The Best Man to Trust - By Kerry Connor Page 0,66
the attention.”
“Why wouldn’t he have given you the time of day?”
“He was way, way out of my league.” She shook her head. “You don’t remember him, what he looked like.”
“I don’t need to. I know what you look like.”
She started to shake her head. “You don’t have to say that—”
“I know I don’t. And I’m not just saying it.” He reached down and caught her chin with his forefinger, tilted her face up to peer into her eyes. “Have I given you any reason to doubt that I think you’re an incredibly sexy woman?” A grin touched his lips, his blue eyes darkening with desire. “Because if I did, I can try harder.”
Her leg was slung over his, and against her thigh she felt the growing proof of his arousal.
“I believe you.” She smiled. “But that’s how I felt. How I always felt around him. And since I never really felt like I was good enough, it was easier to accept that when he got angry it was my fault. And those times when he did look at me and smile, I was always so happy, and I’d forget how awful and terrifying he could be. Everything seemed worth it when he smiled or seemed happy, like I had done something right, like he was happy with me. If he wasn’t, I would just have to try harder, and then everything would be okay.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No,” she admitted quietly.
“What made you finally leave?”
She swallowed hard. “I was in the hospital. Brad...he broke my jaw and a couple of bones in my face. And I had some bruised ribs. I couldn’t talk, couldn’t really move. Mrs. Hagerty, our neighbor, found me. She knew what had been happening, had tried to get me to do something, but...I didn’t. When she didn’t see me leave the house that morning, she came over. She called an ambulance and they took me to the hospital. They kept me overnight for a few days. And even then, I remember lying in that hospital bed wondering what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t make him happy. Why he couldn’t love me enough not to...” The words stuck in her throat.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Tom said fiercely. “It was that bastard’s.”
“I know that. Now,” she added faintly. She cleared her throat. “Adam, my brother, found out. I hadn’t told him about any of it, hadn’t wanted to admit what had been happening. I think subconsciously I knew he would have tried to get me out and I still wanted Brad. But when I was in the hospital, Adam tried to get in touch with me. Brad wouldn’t tell him where I was, but he managed to reach Mrs. Hagerty, who did.”
She pulled in a ragged breath. “I still remember when he came into my room and saw me for the first time. He didn’t even look angry. He was just...devastated. He actually started to cry, and if you ever met Adam he’s the last guy you’d ever expect to cry. I had never seen him do that before. And I remembered I did have somebody who loved me.
“He got me out of there and we stayed in a hotel while I recovered. He wouldn’t let me go home, even to pick up my belongings. I think he was afraid Brad might try to convince me to stay, and if that failed, get violent again. He was probably right. He took care of that for me. Got what I wanted from the house for me. Found me an attorney. He saved me when I couldn’t save myself.”
She swallowed the hard lump that had formed in her throat. “I guess I’m just that weak.”
His arm tightened around her, drawing her closer to him. “Maybe you were, but you’re not now.”
She exhaled softly. “I don’t know about that.”
“Are you kidding? ‘Weak’ is the last thing I would call the woman who’s been in charge here the past several days.”
Doubt flickered through her. “I was just doing what I had to.”
“Isn’t that what strong people do?”
She’d never thought of it that way. Maybe it really was just as simple as that. “I guess so.”
He brushed a kiss against the top of her head. “I’m glad you got away,” he said roughly, his voice thick with emotion.
She turned her face into his chest, deeply breathing in the scent of him. No matter what happened after this terrible weekend, she would never forget this—the smell that was purely, distinctively his, the way his