Broken Heart. Laura Browning

chance to grab hold of her again, she rushed from the dance floor and out of the ballroom in search of the sanctuary of the women’s lounge. She longed to simply break down, but she knew her mother, knew her family. Someone would be in here in a moment, and she needed to have a believable story to cover behavior that had drawn unwanted attention. Rushing into one of the stalls, she slammed the door behind her, stared at the toilet and let out a defeated sigh. From years of practice, she leaned over, stuck a finger down her throat and gagged before she brought up the contents of her stomach.

      “Stacey, darling?” It was her mother’s voice. “Are you ill?”

      She leaned one hand against the marble wall then grabbed a wad of tissue. “It’s nothing, Mother.”

      “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

      There was such a wealth of hope in her mother’s voice, but all Stacey felt were manacles tightening another notch around her wrists and throat.

      * * * *

      Mason had endured all he could. Even for Brandon and Lucy’s sake, he couldn’t stay here any longer. He was making himself miserable, and he’d made Stacey quite literally sick. He watched the doorway through which she’d fled, had seen her mother follow her, and waited now to see them return. As much as he wanted to get the hell out of there, he wouldn’t until he was sure she would be fine.

      What the fuck had he been thinking? How could he have said that to her? It would be better all the way around if he made sure to avoid any contact with her. She had made her bed the moment she’d accepted Jason Winchester’s engagement ring. If her marriage now turned out to be something other than what she’d hoped, it was none of his concern. As soon as he saw her return to the ballroom with her mother, he located his date, making the excuse he had plans to sail early the next morning.

      After dropping off the senator’s aide, Mason drove past the house where he and Stacey had met. It was nearly two years ago now. And how pathetic was that? He was still lusting after a woman who’d dumped him so long ago. As the Porsche idled outside the brownstone, Mason remembered seeing her for the first time. Tall and willowy, dressed in a conservative suit with her hair pulled back into a neat bun, she’d turned her Barlow-Barrett haughtiness on him, thinking he was nothing more than a delivery boy. He’d set her straight in pretty short order, right before he’d eased her tight skirt up, shoved her lacy underwear to one side and taken her on the dining room table. Even remembering it now, so long after the fact, his cock swelled and his balls throbbed.

      That was what pissed him off more than anything. He knew, given half a chance, he’d do the same thing again, married or not. But no matter how bitter he was, he wouldn’t be the one to disillusion her about her husband. That was a journey she’d have to make on her own.

      * * * *

      They were going home. Finally. While Jace drove the Jaguar, Stacey leaned her aching head against the rest and stared out the passenger window. She wanted nothing more than to be able to take off the fancy clothes, let down her hair and soak in her tub with a glass of seltzer water in hand. Instead, in the side mirror, she saw the headlights of Justin Worthington’s car. Jace had invited him for a drink. Stacey sighed. Her husband caught her hand.

      “Are you feeling better, darling?”

      “Yes.” Did she have a choice? Without even asking, he had invited his friend to their home, so no matter how she actually felt, she would still need to play hostess for their guest.

      But of course, she was positive none of what was going through her mind showed on her face when she smiled and welcomed Justin inside. It would go against everything she’d been taught to be less than gracious to a guest. When she started to remove the silk shawl from around her shoulders, it was Justin who took it from her. His grin was charming. “Allow me.”

      “Thank you.” Stacey watched as he folded it carefully and laid it across the arm of the chair near the steps. It helped redeem him a bit in her eyes. Jace was never so careful with her things. Stacey hated disorder. Justin was obviously a man who did as well. Perhaps she had only imagined his penis brushing against her thigh while they danced, but even so, she supposed she could excuse him. After all, it wasn’t necessarily something a man could control, was it?

      “Sherry, darling?” Jason asked. At her nod, his glance moved to Justin. “And you, Justin? Still drinking Remy Martin?” At the other man’s nod, Stacey watched her husband splash some of the cognac in two snifters. After handing her the glass of sherry, he delivered one of the snifters to Justin. Stacey settled herself on one end of the couch, a bit unsettled when Justin seated himself in the chair nearby, close enough his knee nearly brushed hers.

      After a sip from her sherry, she steeled herself. “So, do you also know Brandon?” She was trying to figure out how Justin had become one of the guests at the wedding, although she couldn’t remember seeing him at the church.

      He laughed. “The groom? No, I don’t know either your brother or his lovely bride. I happened to show up at the club, thinking I might get a decent, quiet meal there, when I ran into Jace. He invited me in to join the festivities.”

      She smiled and darted a glance at her husband, who seemed to be watching them both with unusual intensity. When she raised a brow at him, he shook himself and smiled. “You know, it’s uncanny, darling. There is an amazing resemblance between the two of you.”

      Justin laughed. “Coincidence, Jace, I can assure you. I don’t believe any of the Worthingtons, other than me, have ever traveled east of the Mississippi. That would certainly preclude any chance of our actually being related.”

      Stacey laughed, but she had to admit, Jace was somewhat accurate. Both she and Justin had blond hair of a similar color, though his was closely cropped while hers was confined in a sleek French twist, the way her husband liked it. They were of a similar height, particularly when she wore heels, and even his build was slender, though she had a feeling from having danced with him he was a lot stronger than he might initially appear. “You are too funny, darling. To even imagine Alexander Barlow-Barrett might have strayed…”

      Her father was far too uptight and upright. She had spent a lifetime trying to live up to his strict ideas of what was right and wrong. And even though she had done everything she’d ever been asked, had gone to the right schools, participated in the right sports and married the right man, she sometimes couldn’t help but feel she was more of a disappointment to him than the children who had thrown everything back in his face.

      Jason laughed. “You’re right. How absurd. So, tell me Justin, how are the renovations going on your condo?”

      The other man grimaced. “None too well, I’m afraid. Everything is torn up. The contractors have mentioned having me relocate for a month or so until they get the heaviest work out of the way.”

      Before she realized it, Stacey impetuously invited, “You must stay here, Justin. We have plenty of room, and I know the staff get bored with only Jace and me rattling around in this big house. We bought it with plans for the future…”

      He touched her hand. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. You two haven’t even been married a year.”

      Jace set his glass aside. “It wouldn’t be any intrusion. We’d love to have you, wouldn’t we, Stacey?”

      She had regretted the impulse as soon as the invitation had left her mouth, but she could hardly take it back now. What had she been thinking, particularly when Jason had made it plain he wanted to get busy starting a family? But the invitation had been made, so she smiled and nodded. “Of course you must move in here while the work on your place is finished. I won’t hear of anything else.”

      His hand stroked her forearm. “That’s very generous of you, Stacey.” His gaze shifted to Jason, though his hand remained on her arm. “Thanks, man. You’re a real friend to share your home with me. I should get home, leave you two to get to bed.”

      * * * *

      Jason prowled his study long after Stacey had gone to bed. After tossing back another brandy, he