The Tie That Binds. Laura Gale

pulled away, wondering at some level if this was part of Alana’s official job description. She reached for him again, believing she knew exactly how to seduce him, how to change his reluctant mind and resistant body. She did, of course. That was Alana.

      He extricated himself from her grasp again. “I said stop, Alana. I’m not interested.”

      “Of course you are, darling,” she purred. “You’ve always been interested. You already know there is nothing I won’t do to soothe you. Let me help take your mind off all that unpleasantness.” She removed her blazer, tossing it carelessly onto the chair behind her. Her ivory silk blouse did nothing to conceal the black lacy bra she wore underneath—a fact of which she was perfectly aware. She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back, ruffling her cloud of ash-blond hair, knowing that the silk of her blouse would outline the hardened state of her nipples. Licking her lips again, she said, “Well, Luke? What’s it going to be?”

      “Stop it, Alana, and get the hell out of my office.” He turned away, disgust rocketing through him.

      His body apparently had other ideas—physically, a response was possible. She left nothing to the imagination, and he was feeling ragged after Rachel’s visit.

      “You know, Lucas, you’ve been mad at the world for what seems like years now. Why is that, do you suppose?” From behind him, her arms curled around his waist, stroking slowly downward. She pressed her breasts into his back, the purr returning to her voice. “I bet I could make a guess, Lucas. You’ve been without a woman for too long, haven’t you? Quite a while, if the gossip is true. I could help you.” She whipped around him then, to stand in front of him, her arms still locked around his waist, her body pressed tight against his. “You’d like it, Lucas. What do you say?”

      Hadn’t he just decided that he needed to be with a woman? What was there to stop him accepting Alana’s offer? The release might help.

      Sex with Alana would be hot, and…a little dirty. That was part of the appeal, he knew.

      And suddenly this moment lost all of its attraction for him. It was cheap and meaningless, and he didn’t need that. That was the reason he’d not been with a woman in so long. Sex, as an animal act or as a means of release, had no appeal for him. A mere physical coupling wasn’t the answer to his perpetual bad mood. While he wouldn’t contemplate what the answer might be, he knew it wasn’t tawdry sex.

      Pushing Alana away from him, he straightened his clothes. “Dammit, Alana. Get away from me.” He glared at her, hoping he looked as repulsed as he felt. More calmly he continued, “Rachel had an appointment, Alana. She didn’t barge in. She left. Dad didn’t throw her out.”

      He picked up the envelope Rachel had brought him, scooping the contents back inside.

      “Do you want me to wait for you, Luke? Or go with you someplace else?”

      “No, Alana, I do not. I don’t want you at all, in any way.”

      “You could if you tried.” She stood with her breasts thrust forward, her hands on her hips, sure she could change his mind.

      Lucas looked at her, taking in her undeniably sexy presentation, her blatant invitation. “No, I don’t want you, Alana. It has been a long time since I’ve had sex, but I certainly don’t want to be reinitiated by you.”

      She laughed. “Right, Luke. Like I said, I’ll be ready when you are.” She was purring again. “Just keep thinking about it, Lucas. You’re a virile man. You can’t deny your physical needs forever. I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

      “You’ll have a long wait.” His decision made, Lucas knew he spoke the truth. “I’ve had enough of you, Alana.”

      So saying, he slipped into his jacket and left his office.

      “Jennifer,” he said, stopping at the reception desk, “I’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day. I don’t have any other appointments for today, but I’ll be out tomorrow as well, so please reschedule whatever is listed then.”

      He left the building, getting in his Lexus with no particular idea where he was going. Eventually, he found himself near Indian Bend Park, a man-made flood control area that cut through the city of Scottsdale. He parked the car, left his jacket behind and began strolling along the winding sidewalk. Suddenly he realized he was facing a playground. He listened to the squeals and shrieks of the children, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or bouts of crying. It was May, and the weather had been mild so far; the brutal sun of summer had not yet rendered the playground equipment too hot to touch. Lucas watched the children interact among themselves and with their parents. On this weekday, mothers were the primary parents in attendance.

      Finding a bench, he sat down. He opened Rachel’s envelope, pulling the photo from it. He stared and stared, trying to come to terms with the face he saw reflected there. His eyes, his unruly hair. The hair he hated on himself, he found endearing on his daughter.

      Rachel’s apricot skin, her delicate nose and mouth, the curve of her eyebrows—all were reflected in Michaela. But her dark eyes and hair, they came from her daddy.

      Our daughter, he acknowledged silently. There was no other possibility and he knew it. He pulled out the birth certificate, seeking the date of birth. He did the quick calculations, counting back nine months, already knowing what he would discover, but needing to confirm it anyway.

      Quickly he realized that Michaela would have been conceived in March or maybe even February—long before his ill-advised trip to Las Vegas. Long before May 18, the day the agreement to separate had gone into effect. The separation might have come anyway, of course, but he knew it had been a direct response to his time in Las Vegas the week before.

      His mind whirled back to that murky time, five years ago, to what he had privately labeled “the end of the marriage”—the end even if they weren’t actually divorced, a time he rarely reflected upon. In fact, he rarely reflected on anything; introspection seemed a waste of time to him. He avoided reflection the same way he avoided scenes.

      Still, today he’d had the past thrown in his face, in the shape of his wife and daughter. He couldn’t avoid thinking at the moment.

      He took a deep breath, his eyebrows descending into a frown as he contemplated the end of his marriage to Rachel. He had been traveling a lot. It had been business, but it had been a lot of fun, too. If he was honest with himself, he had traveled more than necessary, every chance he got. He’d been eager to take advantage of what he called “opportunities.” He’d enjoyed spending time with his colleagues, establishing himself, not worrying about the limitations imposed by everyday life. Feeling like a professional in the business world.

      Until that trip to Las Vegas. Las Vegas had been a colossal blunder on his part.

      Yes, he knew why Rachel had not told him about her pregnancy when he returned from Las Vegas. As she said, they’d had a different sort of conversation to pursue. Back then, he would have made the same accusations he’d made today, even though he was perfectly aware that he had been the one pursuing external activities, not Rachel. Just as she had said.

      Had Rachel somehow succeeded in telling him back then, would he have accepted the news? Very likely not. Very likely the scene, the breakup, would have simply been uglier. Regardless, he had lost the first four years of his daughter’s life.

      Michaela, who’d spent her entire life without him. He’d never seen her, never even suspected her existence.

      Well, that’s about to change, he told himself. I’m a father, and I’m going to be good at it. He felt a genuine smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

      Lucas returned the photo to the safety of the envelope. He leaned back against the bench, raking his fingers through his hair in the way that had always suggested inner turmoil. He admitted to the tension he felt now, the sensation of ice-cold butterflies in the pit of his stomach.

      Tense, yes, he was certainly tense. Poised for…something he couldn’t name.

      How