Daniel's Desire - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,20
that’s what I am, a helping hand. I could be that for Kendra, if you’d stop standing in the way.”
He said it as if there wasn’t a doubt about Kendra being there, so apparently Molly wasn’t half the liar she’d tried to be. Given the number of opportunities she’d had lately to practice, she was bound to be better before this mess was cleared up.
“I have a legal right and the experience to look out for her,” Daniel added. “You have nothing. In fact, quite the opposite. You’re interfering in a police matter.”
Molly felt her temper kick in at his reasonable tone and at the suggestion that he could be relied on to be anyone’s help in a crisis. “I know all about your kind of help,” she snapped. “Believe me, wherever she is and whoever she’s with, she’s better off on her own.”
Daniel actually winced at the cutting words. Molly hadn’t thought he could ever be wounded by anything she said, but it was apparent that he was. Not that she was going to take back her words or apologize for speaking the truth.
“I’m sorry you believe that,” he said quietly. “I won’t hurt her, Molly, and I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect you.”
“Is that what you call turning your back on your own baby and on the woman you claimed to love? Protection?” She could hear her voice climbing, so she turned aside before he could see the tears she was trying desperately to blink away.
She heard him move and thanked heaven that he had the sensitivity for once to go and leave her in peace. But before she could even finish the thought, she felt his hand on her shoulder, gentle, comforting.
“Molly, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
When she finally risked looking at him, there was so much torment, so much emotion, in his eyes that it nearly stole her breath.
“I really am sorry,” Daniel said, brushing awkwardly at the tear that slid down her cheek. He’d never been able to bear making her cry. “What I did was stupid and careless, but I honestly believed I was doing the right thing. I had no idea how it would turn out.”
She sniffed. “It could hardly have had a happy ending now, could it?”
“No, but I never thought you’d lose the baby. I never wanted that.” His hand cupped her chin. “Believe me. A part of me would have given anything for you to have my child, even if it meant watching him or her grow up from a distance. You would have been a wonderful mother.”
Because she so desperately wanted to believe him, because a part of her wanted to block out the past and live in the moment, Molly brushed away his hand. “I can’t talk about this anymore. Go away, Daniel. If you ever cared anything at all for me, stay away.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice.
“Because of Kendra,” she concluded, resigned.
He shook his head. “Not entirely. Because of you, too. I don’t want things between us to end like this.”
She almost smiled at that. “Like this? Daniel, they ended years ago. This? This is a piece of cake compared to the way they ended then.”
“Maybe they should never have ended at all.”
She stared at him as if he’d started spouting French or some other incomprehensible language. “You can’t mean that.”
He looked uncomfortable, as if he regretted saying it, but he wasn’t taking it back. She waited and waited, but he let the words hang in the air.
Maybe they should never have ended at all.
What was he thinking? Was he crazy? He was the one who’d ended it. He was the one who’d been so insistent that she and their baby would be better off without him. And now, when it was too late to matter, he was saying he’d gotten it all wrong?
She gazed into his dark-blue eyes and looked for the man she’d once loved, but she couldn’t find him. Didn’t want to find him. Not at this late date. It would make what had happened such a waste, even more tragic than it had been.
“Leave, please,” she all but begged. “Just for tonight, go.”
He lifted his hand, almost reached for her, then dropped it back to his side. “Good night, Molly.”
“Goodbye, Daniel.”
His lips curved slightly as he noted the hopeful distinction she’d made. “Not goodbye,” he said.
After he’d gone, she sank onto a stool at the bar