Long-Lost Mom Read online

  He complied, his face a mask as he took in her bright blue eyes.

  She fluffed her fingers through her short hair. “Imagine me with that long blond hair,” she said quietly. “In that thin, malnourished body I was always depriving.”

  “No.”

  “Minus nearly ten years,” she added. “Without all this makeup I use to cover up the—Never mind that now. Just look, Stone. Really look, past all the exterior.” She stood there, heart and soul bared. Terrified. “Who do you see?”

  “My God.” He gripped the counter behind him, and his chest expanded as he drew in a breath with obvious difficulty. “Oh, my God. But how?”

  “A car accident.”

  “You were in a car accident and got a new face?”

  “Not exactly. It was the surgery required to put me back together after I went through a windshield and down a two-hundred-foot cliff.”

  Before she could draw a breath, he was there, standing in front of her, yanking her against him and slamming his mouth down on hers.

  His hands held her face as his tongue dipped into her mouth. Helpless, she wrapped her arms tightly around his midsection and opened to him.

  The hard counter he pressed her against dug into her back while the hard bulge between his thighs dug into her front. But it was wrong. Something was missing.

  The warmth, she realized. He held her, he kissed her, yet utterly without care and affection. She pushed away, needing to see his face.

  His hand dipped into her collar and pulled out the pearls she wore, which he stared at with barely repressed violence. “I knew I’d recognized these. They were your grandmother’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe that’s a lie, too.” His hands clasped her waist and with one swift motion, he had her blouse out of her pants.

  “What—”

  But he cut off her question ruthlessly, with that knowing, exacting, mind-blowing mouth of his. When she shoved at him, he nuzzled her neck beneath her ear. “You’re good, Cindy. Jenna. Whoever the hell you are. Very good. But I suppose you’ve had lots of practice.”

  Jenna squeezed her eyes shut at the insulting words. The accusation was ugly, and it hurt unbearably, especially coming from him. Stone. The man whose touch could send her soaring, whose voice had been a part of her dreams for so long she couldn’t remember what it’d been like before him. He’d been gentle and passionate, tender and fierce, and she wanted all those things now, along with his understanding. “Please, Stone—”

  “Don’t ask me for mercy.” He tore the button of her pants open, then jerked down the zipper, while shock held her immobile. Slipping his hand inside, he tugged at her panties.

  “Stone! No...”

  Before she could voice the protest, he’d dropped to his knees before her, staring bleakly at her exposed hip—and the small tattoo of a rose.

  Swearing, he got up and jerked away from her, leaving her to clumsily right her clothes. Unwittingly she lifted a hand to the right side of her face, covering the faint scars. “Do you see me now?” she asked bitterly. “The real me?”

  “Yes.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. The fingers on the hand gripping the counter were turning white with strain. His voice had gone cold. “Now get out.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve had your fun, Jenna. Or should I say Cindy? Damn you!” He turned away in disgust to stare unseeingly out the window into the darkness. “You must have gotten a good laugh.”

  “No. No,” she said hoarsely, moving closer to the man whose shoulders had always carried far too much responsibility. She set a hand on his taut back and ran it over muscles that quivered beneath her touch. “No—”

  “Don’t,” he said harshly, and she dropped her hand.

  Rounding on her, he grabbed her arms and gave her a shake. “Don’t touch me. Not like that. Like you mean it. Not ever again, damn you.”

  “I...I do mean it,” she gasped, letting the burning tears fall. She let go of all pride. “Stone, please, listen. Let me tell you—”

  “No!” As if he couldn’t help himself, he shook her again, then let go abruptly when she winced. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly horrified. “That was unforgivable of me.”

  “Stone.”

  He lifted his hands away from her as if he’d been burned. “I want you to leave.”

  “Don’t be sorry!” she cried. “I deserve—”

  He swore again, more creatively this time, then covered his eyes as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her. “Go,” he demanded wearily. “Just go.”

  “But you have to listen!”

  “Listen?” he asked incredulously, dropping his hands. “Listen to what? To why you’ve come back now after all this time? Or how about why you didn’t tell me who you really were? You let me think—God!”

  “Stone—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Unless, of course, you’re ready to stop lying and tell me the truth.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “The hell you didn’t.” His voice lowered, dripping with rage and sarcasm. “You lied every time you looked at me and let me think you were another woman. Every time you spoke or smiled, it was a lie.” His face darkened. “Every time you touched me, let me touch you... a damn lie.”

  “No,” she said. “It was wrong not to tell you right away, I know that. But the rest, oh, Stone, the rest. It was the only truth in my life. Please believe me.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said politely, with a chill that frightened her, “if I don’t ever believe another word you say.”

  “When we...at your office...” Her breath escaped her when his expression changed, going from fury to anguish in less than a heartbeat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wanted to tell you before we did, but...”

  “But it was such wild animal sex you couldn’t catch your breath enough to enlighten me?”

  “Don’t.” His anger sparked her own. “Don’t belittle it like that. We made—”

  “Wrong. Love is when two people are being honest. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Oh, he knew how to cut deep. “You can call it whatever you want,” she told him shakily. “But what we did in your office wasn’t some cheap one-night stand. It wasn’t just animal sex. It was...”

  When she fell silent, he arched his brow, daring her to continue.

  Damn him for being so stubborn. “It was...”

  “You haven’t changed much, Jenna. Still can’t use the L-word.” He let out a short harsh laugh. “It’s called love, and you know what? I don’t expect you to understand it.” He shook his head in disgust. “Well, now I get the secrecy about your past—you couldn’t have been more vague. And why you kept forgetting to answer to your own name—that threw me. But refusing to take off your clothes until the lights were off. Hell, that makes perfect sense now. Of course you wanted the dark.” He wrenched himself around, away from her. “This is pretty unbelievable, even for you.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I hauled you out of anonymity, forcing you away from that basketball game to have pizza. Then I twisted your arm, making you continue to have contact with me. Which you just hated, right?”

  At his hard unrelenting glare, she swallowed. “Of course not. But—”

  “Just go.”

  “I won’t,” she said firmly, though her voice trembled. “Not until you listen. I intended to tell you who I was, but—”

  “But what? It was so much more fun to torture me?”

  There was far more than his rage here, which was what gave her the courage to continue to face him down. Shimmering behind his anger was a deeper, more frightening emotion—unbearable pain. “I was afraid,” she adnutted.

  That stopped him, for it wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. All of a sudden just looking at her nearly brought him to his knees. He had no idea how he could feel so much anger, so much pain, so much need for her all at the same time.

  But he did.