Page 45 of His Best Mistake

“How did you know where I was?”

“I took a gamble.”

“I didn’t think you gambled.”

“It was very much worth the risk.”

Her brows lifted a fraction. “A long journey to make on an off-chance.”

“It was a damn sight easier than the last time I made it.” Logistically, at least. Time-wise, with the minutes dragging like hours and his patience stretching so thin it felt it could snap at any moment, it had been frustrating as hell.

“The weather’s better at this time of year.”

“Sod the weather,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Stella lifted her chin, clearly intending to make this difficult for him, which was nothing less than he deserved, and perversely he felt a stab of admiration shoot through him. She was incredible and he loved her all the more for it. “I’m all talked out,” she said archly. “My woolly friends here.”

“Helpful, were they?”

“They’re more the strong, silent types. Good listeners, though.”

“Then how about I do the talking and you do the listening?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, hopping off the wall and brushing her hands. “You made yourself perfectly clear in the hospital, Jack, and it’s fine. I’m fine. The baby’s fine. I’ve moved on, so you’ve had a wasted journey.”

She spun round and stalked off towards the gate and Jack thought, well, hell, that wasn’t happening. He wasn’t leaving until he’d cleared up the godawful mess he’d made and told her everything. Then? Who knew? He hadn’t a clue how she’d felt about him before he’d acted like an idiot and lost her, but he was not letting her walk away without her knowing how he felt about her.

“Someone once reminded me that every defendant has the right to speak,” he called after her. “Give me a chance to say what I’ve come here to say, Stella, and if you still want me to go, I’ll go.”

*

It was the hint of desperation in Jack’s voice that made Stella stop, her pathetically weak resistance finally collapsing and turning to dust. She’d thought she’d been doing rather well, creating and then maintaining a façade of indifference that she really didn’t feel, especially when it had been so damn hard not to just leap up and over the wall and throw herself at him when she’d swivelled round and actually seen him standing there all dark and serious and utterly, utterly gorgeous.

When she’d first heard his voice, she’d gone quite still and her heart had skipped a beat. She’d thought she’d been hallucinating, the emotional stress of recent events somehow conjuring him up, because after everything he’d said why on earth would he be here?

But then her body had responded the way it always did to his presence, the heat and longing surging inside her, and helplessly she’d turned to face him. At the sight of him looking so tired and pale her heart ached. Her hands had instantly started itching with the need to reach out and pull him to her, to wrap him in her arms and kiss him until the shadows went away and desire filled his eyes instead.

But she’d realised she had to be so very careful. She was in love with him but he wasn’t in love with her and that imbalance made her vulnerable to the kind of hurt she didn’t know whether she’d be able to bear, so she’d crossed her arms and clamped her hands to her sides and tried to channel her inner ice queen.

However, what with the way her temperature was rocketing, her inner ice queen wasn’t up to much and, anyway, it was so heavenly to see him. She’d missed him like mad, and weak though it might make her she wanted to know why he’d come.

“OK, fine,” she said, telling herself that despite the curiosity burning her up inside it would nevertheless be wise to proceed with caution. “You’re right. You have one chance.”

In one quick smooth move Jack vaulted over the wall to her side, and before she knew it he’d lifted her up and deposited her on the top of it. “There,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Slightly reeling from the shock of being manhandled like that but unable to rustle up much of a protest, Stella concentrated on trying to remain aloof. “What do you want?”

“You, Stella,” said Jack, his gaze dark and intense. “I want you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. But first things first. I’m sorry for what I said and did in the hospital.”

“Which bit of it?”

“All of it.” He shoved his hands through his hair and scowled down at the ground. “I was cruel and thoughtless and, well, basically, a bastard. I should never have said any of it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“So why did you?”

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