To Have And To Hold. Dawn Temple

kindness and stoop to rudeness with Travis?

      She knew the answer to that one. Because no one else had ever hurt her like he had.

      “I’ll be sure to pass your suggestion along. Coming from such a career-driven person, I’m sure the chamber will give it all the attention it deserves.”

      “I see your tongue’s as razor sharp as ever.” Still standing in the doorway, he lifted his coffee and took a slow sip. Over the mug, his eyes captivated hers. “Although, I remember times when your only response was a purr. Or a moan.”

      Heaven help her, she also remembered those times. Remembered them too well. Too often. But that was her own dark secret. Travis didn’t need to know how often he played the starring role in her memories, both during daylight hours and dark.

      “I hate to disappoint you, Travis, seeing as how you’ve come all this way to stroll down memory lane, but my schedule’s pretty tight today. And we both know what a busy man you are. Why don’t I give your secretary a call later? Perhaps Marge can squeeze me in between your more important commitments.”

      He stepped toward her, all desire gone from his eyes. “You think I want to be here?” The muscle in his clenched jaw jumped.

      “Then why are you? I didn’t ask you to come.”

      “No, you sure didn’t,” he said bitterly. “You’ve made it clear where your loyalties lie.”

      A rusty sound erupted from her throat. “My loyalties!” Her hands began to shake, making her wish for pockets to hide them in. Why hadn’t she waited to take off Pops’s huge shirt? She felt as vulnerable on the outside as she did on the inside.

      “You’re one to talk about loyalties.” How many times had Travis rushed off to rescue his “real” family, often not bothering to tell her where he’d gone or when he’d return?

      “You’re the one who ran off.” Travis’s voice was colder and tighter than the jeans she’d left crumpled on the mudroom floor. “Until I read that damned note you left, I never pegged you for a coward. You always bragged about being ‘strong Lewis stock.’”

      Strong Lewis stock. That had been Pops’s motto, his answer to all life’s problems.

      “How dare you throw my grandfather’s words in my face!” She kneaded her fist against the ache in the pit of her stomach. “You must be spending too much time with your brother. That’s the kind of cruel remark I’d expect from Grant.”

      Hurt flickered across his features. Lindy hardened her heart. She wouldn’t let her softer emotions distract her. “You obviously came here to upset me. You’ve succeeded. Now you can leave.”

      “Leave?” Travis spit the word out. “Is that your only answer? When things get sticky, pack up and crawl home.”

      “What choice did I have? Did you ever give me a reason to stay?” Lindy’s voice rose, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t keep her feelings bottled up any longer. “You worked twenty hours a day, seven days a week. On the rare occasions you came home, it was just for a quick nap—in the guest room for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how demoralizing that was for me? Being tied to a man who’d rather fold himself onto a bed too short and too narrow to be the slightest bit comfortable than share a king-size bed with me?”

      She paused, sucking air deep into her burning lungs. Even a year later, the idea of being no more than an obligation to Travis caused her heart to spasm.

      He straightened from the door frame. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know what you wanted. What you needed.”

      “You could’ve asked.” She’d desperately needed words of comfort from him. All she’d gotten was his silence. His absence.

      “I figured I had time. I wanted to wait until you’d fully recovered before—” His shoulder shrugged. “Before I broached such a sensitive subject. Our relationship was rocky enough.”

      “What little relationship we had died that night.” Her voice hitched, as it always did when she remembered the car crash that had wrecked their lives. Her hands again covered her stomach. If their son hadn’t died, would their marriage have survived?

      This time, Travis’s hurt was more than a flicker. It was a beacon. She’d never doubted the sincerity of Travis’s grief. Unfortunately it was their only common emotion.

      “I’d give anything to change what happened,” Travis whispered, the warm timbre of his voice washing over her raw nerves, once more weakening her resolve.

      In self-defense, she resorted to rudeness. “Well, not even you can fix the past. And I have a funeral to attend today.”

      She turned to leave, desperate to escape before the tears burning her eyelids broke free.

      Travis’s warm touch halted her getaway, his thumb gently stroking the tender flesh just south of her underarm. “I was sorry to hear about Lionel. I know how much he meant to you.”

      She knew the tingles coursing through her were wrong. For goodness’ sake, in a few hours she would bury the only real family she’d ever had. So why did Travis’s touch feel so right?

      She looked pointedly to where his tanned flesh intersected with her pale skin. Knowing he couldn’t miss the skip in her pulse, she played her reaction as anger, lifting her gaze to his and arching her brow.

      The left side of his mouth twitched slightly. He wasn’t fooled. Whatever problems she and Travis may have had, chemistry was never one of them. Every time they came within five feet of each other, they spontaneously combusted.

      Lindy sighed sadly and tugged her arm free. More than anything, that explosive attraction explained how they had ended up in this mess.

      “Do us both a favor, Travis. Go back to Atlanta where you belong.”

      Travis stood under the shade of the oak tree centered in the rural cemetery and studied Lindy from behind the protection of his sunglasses. She stood as rigid as a soldier, looking strong and composed. But her hands, wrapped in a death grip around a handkerchief, trembled.

      If she doesn’t bend soon, she’s gonna break.

      Even with an iron rod down her back and that damned chin of hers aimed to the heavens, she looked stunning. She’d tamed her blond curls into a sophisticated little knot resting on her nape. A classy black suit hugged her body, showcasing the fullness of her breasts, the curve of her hips.

      She wore no sunglasses, facing the sun’s glare and the crowd’s speculation directly. Purple smudges tinted the skin under her blue eyes and lines formed around her tightly clenched lips. Even her nostrils flared at regulated intervals.

      Against his chest, Travis’s cell phone vibrated for the third time in half an hour. He slipped his hand into his suit jacket and turned it off. Monroe Enterprises, more specifically, his brother and father, would have to get along without him for a couple of days.

      He wasn’t going anywhere until he figured out what was going on here, why he’d been summoned to Lionel Lewis’s funeral. Not that he wasn’t sad to hear about Lionel’s passing. They may not have seen eye to eye where Lindy was concerned, but Travis had respected the old man. In fact, he admired the way Pops had always put his family’s happiness—Lindy’s happiness—first.

      “Let us not focus solely on our loss,” the minister said. “Rather, let us remember the joy Lionel brought into our lives.”

      The words buzzed into Travis’s consciousness, but his gaze remained focused across the crowd of mourners, where Lindy stood beside her grandfather’s flower-draped casket.

      His eyes flicked to the hulking Jethro reject hovering at her elbow. He recognized the bastard. He’d never forget the image of his wife’s arms wrapped around this overgrown hick.

      After reading Lindy’s Dear John note last year, he’d raced to Tennessee to lay it all on