of. Luckily, he’d had some condoms in his travel bag. It had been touch and go for a minute the first time. Things had escalated quickly and suddenly he’d been inside her. She had enough sense to choke out that she wasn’t on the Pill any longer. He’d stared at her, a thousand questions in his dark eyes. But somehow he’d had the good sense not to ask any of them. Instead, he’d got suited up and they’d continued on, without missing a beat.
If his sister hadn’t called, they might still be in bed. They would have had to call for nourishment and some more condoms.
The irony did not escape her. She’d been afraid to walk into the hotel looking tipsy yet she’d have been perfectly fine letting the front desk know that she was in need of birth control. Post haste.
Her brain had exploded. Either before, during or after one of those fabulous orgasms. That could be the only explanation.
It wasn’t much of an excuse but it was the best she had.
She wanted to blame it on the alcohol. She’d drunk too much. No debate there. But she hadn’t been too drunk to know what she was doing. She’d sat in the chair, nursed her beer and thought about what-ifs. What if Cruz hadn’t stopped the man? What if she’d been stabbed? What if Cruz had been hurt? What if he’d been killed?
It had suddenly been too much. And the only thing that could make it better was a couple of hours in his arms.
And then morning had come as it inevitably did. When his sister had called, it had been clear that he wanted to help her out, that he wanted to spend
time with his niece. And Meg wasn’t going to stand in his way. She’d made that decision twelve months ago. There was no need to go back and revisit it.
Cruz Montoya was a good man. She wanted him to be happy. To have a houseful of kids. To have a wife who wasn’t damaged by her own past. He deserved to be able to trust the mother of his children. He should never have to worry if his children were safe.
And if he ever found out what she’d done, he’d never stop worrying.
* * *
CRUZ HAD BEEN happy enough to eat breakfast at McDonald’s and hadn’t really even minded when Jana had insisted upon eating lunch there, too. She almost had him talked into a third trip for chocolate chip cookies when he felt the imaginary hot scorch of his sister’s disapproval square between his shoulder blades.
Instead, he steered his rental car into the parking lot of a small grocery store where he bought a bunch of bananas, a package of grapes and a quart of milk—he figured if Jana didn’t drink it all, he could shove the remainder into the minibar. After all, Meg had emptied a couple shelves the night before.
She wasn’t on birth control. What the hell did that mean? She’d always faithfully taken the Pill while they’d been married. Was she leaving it to Slater? Was he sterile? Was she trying to get pregnant?
Was it even possible that she and Slater weren’t having sex? His mind had whirled with unanswered questions all day.
“Now where are we going?” Jana asked, skipping alongside him.
They’d spent the morning at the aquarium and the afternoon at Kiddie Park. “Back to the hotel to watch movies. Uncle Cruz is exhausted.”
“I’m not tired,” she said.
“Of course not,” he said.
They were still a couple miles from the hotel when he saw something that made him do a double take. Charlotte. Walking down the street, hanging all over some guy.
Cruz took another look and almost ran into the car in front of him that had stopped for a red light.
Mason Hawkins. The man was Mason Hawkins. He’d put on some pants, washed his hair and ditched the potato chips.
They were deep in conversation and Charlotte reached up to touch the man’s face. Cruz wanted to jump out of the car and demand to know what the hell was going on. But he had Jana and the light was changing. He pressed on the gas.
Ten minutes later, he and Jana were back in the room. He took off her shoes, washed the grime of the day from her face and hands, and had her crawl up onto the bed. He made her comfortable with some pillows and then they flipped through the in-room movie channel until she picked one about a