Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,63

read the fear in his eyes, perceiving in an instant the confession was costing him dearly.

"I never knew her," he repeated. "I was literally left at my father's doorstep with a note saying the baby inside the basket was his. He had as hard a time being faithful to a woman as he did to a job, so he never figured out who my mother was. There had been several different women in his life nine months earlier and the fact that he was a heavy drinker left him with a less-than-perfect memory of who she might be. I lived with him and my grandmother until they were both killed in a car accident. None of my relatives wanted to take me, the son of a ne'er-do-well alcoholic, so I was placed in St. Bernadette's."

Chris's face was an impenetrable mask, cold and distant. He then told her about the Darnell's and how he learned the construction business from the man who later adopted him.

"You never married?" Libby asked.

"I was engaged once," he replied flatly. "But Cynthia's just another piece of history I'd like to forget."

His eyes sought the distant darkness again and he clutched the counter so tightly Libby feared it would crack.

"Actually, once I divulged the truth about my strange family history, she very quickly decided to dump me. She came just this short of calling me a bastard, which is true in the opposite meaning of the word, I suppose." Chris paused.

"Cynthia was from a wealthy Main Line family that lived in a big old mansion out in the suburbs. I was madly in love with her. Cynthia said she loved me, too, until she found out I was only the adopted son of Bob Darnell. My true parentage was so repulsive to her, she broke off our engagement the minute I confessed everything."

Libby's heart constricted at the rejection he must have felt.

"Better you found out before you got married," she said, struggling to find words to ease his pain. "My marriage crumbled because Rick couldn't accept who I was, either. He felt threatened by my successful career and didn't share my desire to have children. He'd always been honest about not wanting a family and for a long time I didn't think I did, either. So I was the one who changed in that regard. But I never anticipated his jealousy over my work. He'd always been so supportive! When he demanded I take on fewer clients and cut my hours back, I was shocked."

Chris nodded in understanding.

She continued. "Ending a relationship is always traumatic, no matter who decides to call it quits, Chris. If Cynthia couldn't accept you for who you are, then at least you were spared the pain of a divorce later." Libby's voice stumbled over the name of the woman who so had obviously captured and broken Chris's heart.

Libby longed to pull him close and comfort the little boy inside who raged against the incredible loss and dismissal handed down several times so many years earlier. Instead, she moved closer and placed her hand gently on top of his clenched one.

At her touch, Chris turned and faced her. The lines of sorrow from minutes earlier had been replaced by a look of calm acceptance. Libby had no idea what he was thinking, but his eyes locked with hers, as though daring her to condemn him as Cynthia had.

She couldn't. His mother's sins were not his. Libby cursed the charade that prevented her from consoling him further.

"You think I'm a bastard, too, don't you?" Chris finally asked.

Chapter Twenty-One

With the bluntly delivered question, Chris pulled his clenched fist away from Libby's hand and clasped her arm, not roughly, but with unexpected tenderness.

"No," she replied simply, all senses reeling from the softness of his touch against her bare skin.

"No? Not even when I plan to demolish the very building you've begged me several times to save?" His voice was low, his dark eyes demanding.

Libby met his gaze without flinching. "If you truly believe--in your heart--that Harte's Desire must come down or your plans will fail, then I can't fault you for following your beliefs, Chris. Just as I can't judge you on the basis of your mother's and father’s shortcomings. You've risen above them to succeed on your own merit, not theirs."

Chris's fingertips traveled the length of her arm, leaving a mutiny of glorious sensation in their wake.

"Am I a success, Libby?" He circled the tender, sensitive skin underneath her wrist.

"Only you can answer that," she