Page 12 of The Comeback Heir

“Of course, I am,” he said. “I’ve been given a chance to be a father, to keep my dead sister’s memory alive. Any small sacrifices I might make in the process are inconsequential.”

There it was again. His reference to being a father. As if somehow, Felicity had stood in his way.

That was ridiculous. He could have been a father a dozen times over by now. It wasn’t her fault he was childless. Maybe that was one of the costs of being a genius workaholic.

“If you don’t need my help with the baby,” she said, “I think I’ll go to my room now.” She rose to her feet, proud of her unemotional tone.

But Wynn wasn’t done toying with her. “Running away, Fliss?” He got up and faced her.

Her eyes widened as temper rolled through her chest. “From what? From you? Hardly.”

Slowly, as if he was giving her a chance to back away, he took her wrist and drew her to his chest. In unison, the two of them glanced at Ayla. She was happy...chewing on a plastic toy.

“From this,” he muttered. And then he kissed her.

Felicity felt as if the ground had been ripped from beneath her feet. She should have put her hands on his chest and pushed. Told him no. Refused to let their complicated past intrude on their even more complicated present.

She thought about it. Even in the shock of the moment, she thought about it. For long seconds she held herself stiff in his arms. But the temptation was too great, the river of yearning too deep.

After a hitched breath, she kissed him back. His lips were the same, firm and sweet and hot as sin. He held her as if he had no intention of letting her go, his arms wrapped tightly around her, one at her back and another at her waist.

Afterward, Felicity couldn’t pinpoint which of them returned to reality first. But it was likely the baby’s fussy cry that broke them apart.

Wynn knelt and picked up his niece. When he stood again, his jaw was tight. But he didn’t say anything.

It was up to Felicity. “This won’t work,” she said. “You know it won’t. If Ayla is your priority, then you and I can’t...” She waved a hand, unable to come up with a word to describe what had just happened.

“Can’t what?” His tight smile was mocking.

“I think you’re taunting me, but I don’t know why.”

“You don’t want to enjoy each other while you’re here?”

“We had our chance,” she said curtly. “We didn’t make it work. And I’ve never been one for fooling around just to have a few orgasms.”

He blinked. “Why do you think it would be only a few?” He pivoted. “The old Fliss never said things like that.”

“The old Felicity was an eighteen-year-old kid.”

“You always seemed mature for your age. I think that’s what attracted me to you. Most of the girls were giggly and silly. You had a vision for what your future could be. You made it happen, Fliss. I’m proud of you.”

She gaped at him. Why would he say something so sweet when she was trying to hate him?

“Thank you.” The words barely came out. Her throat was tight.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. Let’s pretend it never happened. A fresh start, Fliss. Please?”

He seemed genuinely contrite. It was her own fault if his very sincere apology sent a wash of disappointment swirling in her stomach. “Of course. It’s been a stressful week. We’re both here to honor Shandy and to care for her daughter. I don’t think we should do anything to mess that up.”

“Agreed.”

“Good night, Wynn.”

As she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, she felt his green-eyed gaze on her back every step of the way.

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