Luc laughed bitterly. “No. I’m the last thing she needs.” He spotted Kimber’s brother returning with a tray filled with coffees. “Ask him. He’ll tell you.”

Clapping his cousin on the back, Luc turned and spotted a triage nurse leaving her post to help a woman in labor. He sneaked in the door just before it closed, then wandered down the hall. Temporary rooms were set up in a circle all around the nurses’ station. A whiteboard in the middle of the room listed all the patients and their room numbers. Finding Alyssa’s room in the corner was easy enough. So was ducking in.

Inside, the thin drape had been drawn. He could see her outline, but nothing more. She didn’t want to see him, and he respected that, so he didn’t tear it away, as he yearned to. Damn hard. Luc wanted to see for himself that she was okay, unharmed. But she’d made her wishes clear. Now would be his only chance to say good-bye.

Behind the drape, he heard the beep of monitors, the pump of oxygen into her system. An IV stand abutted the wall, only partially concealed. He swallowed, wanting to see her, take her hand . . . something.

She wanted nothing to do with him, and it hurt so fucking bad.

Wishing she wasn’t asleep and would hear him, he sighed, his breath ruffling the ugly blue drape. “I’m so damn sorry about so many things. I—Around you, I turned into someone I didn’t know how to control, and you were right to dismiss me.” He grabbed the curtain, forcing himself to keep it in place, not to rush past it to her bedside and wake her, take her in his arms. “I’m sorry that my behavior drove you away, into Peter’s clutches. So sorry. You don’t know how close I am to falling completely in love with you. Clearly, it’s better for us all if I leave.”

The moment was upon him. One word; that was all he had to say. Good-bye. Then he could leave, let her rest easier and eventually get on with her life.

Luc couldn’t force the word out. Instead, he clenched his fists to hold in what felt suspiciously like tears, then left the hospital room for good.

Chapter Eleven

“LUC?”

He turned toward the familiar voice, swallowing back his annoyance. Emily. She approached him on sensible pumps, looking like something out of a Lands’ End catalog with crisp khaki pants, a smart white blouse, and a little red cardigan. The colors suited her pale complexion and dark hair. She was stylishly accessorized, the look modest, understated. When she smiled, the expression reached all the way to her hazel eyes. She really was perfect in so many ways.

The smile he sent in return felt more like a grimace as he waved her over.

Glancing at his watch, he was relieved to see the book signing and cooking demonstration would end in another ten minutes.

Doing his best to meet and greet, pose for pictures, and answer fans’ questions, he was conscious of Emily’s presence just beyond his left shoulder. He glanced back at her. Damn, she was wearing her purposeful look.

When he’d run out of books and time was more than up, he stood and walked to the portable kitchen area and grabbed the microphone. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I appreciate the support. Have a great evening.”

After a hearty round of applause, people began to file out. A reporter or two milled around, but store personnel escorted them out. Luc braced himself and turned toward Emily.

Everything inside him recoiled. She was lovely, cultured, educated, kind. She loved children, had broadly hinted that she’d welcome a marriage proposal, and wanted to start a family right away. Luc even had the ring in his pocket, a simple two-carat teardrop-shaped diamond—her favorite, according to her—on a thin gold band, just waiting for the right moment.

She was everything he should want. But he’d been waiting for that right moment for three weeks, and the ring was still tucked away in its box in his suit coat.

He sighed, then closed the distance between them to kiss her cheek.

“You look nice.” It wasn’t her fault that he was dying to see another woman in a sexy short skirt, garters, and a saucy attitude.

Damn! He’d never see her again, and Luc knew he needed to get on with his life. Today he’d turned thirty-six. Tonight was as good as any to start embracing his future. If he wanted to have children, he needed to try starting his family soon. It could be a years-long process, but Emily, twenty-eight and ready, would be supportive.

Luc felt guiltily relieved that having children with her wouldn’t require sex. She was lovely. And a wonderful person. He’d feel desire for her . . . someday. Maybe.

Emily’s smile widened. “You look nice, too. And now I must take you to dinner for your very happy birthday. Where should we go?”

Luc tried to muster enthusiasm for the evening. “What sounds good to you?”

Slowly, her smile fell. “Another headache? Have you been to the doctor yet?”

Since returning from Lafayette six weeks ago, he’d fabricated headaches to explain his lack of interest in their dates and his need to cut evenings short. He hated lying to her. Emily deserved better. Either he needed to actually commit to trying to build a future with her or walk away.

His heart voted for the latter. Logic asked him what the hell he’d do about tomorrow if he left Emily. Alyssa was gone, behind him. No matter how much he wished otherwise, this separation was her wish—and the wise choice he hadn’t had the fortitude to make on his own.

He pasted on a smile. “I’m fine.”

Emily frowned. “You’re not feeling depressed about your birthday, are you?”

Not in the way she meant, but it was a good excuse. “Perhaps a little.”

“Then it’s my job to cheer you up!” She smiled, flashing dimples, and reached for his hand.

This and chaste kisses. In the last month, he’d managed no more contact with her than that. How could he get through a wedding night when he couldn’t imagine ever having sex with her? Worse, what would he do when the need he still felt for Alyssa clawed through his skin, demanding something only she could give? Would his resolve to leave her in peace waver then? Would he disregard his marriage vows? Or would he endure in silence until he grew to resent Emily?

“You don’t have to.” He gathered his utensils, notebook, and pens, then took a long time arranging them in his backpack—giving himself more time to school his features and erase his hunger for Alyssa.

“Luc.” She touched his shoulder. “I wanted to wait until we were alone, but . . . You haven’t been the same since you returned from Louisiana. I didn’t want to push, but—”

“Then don’t,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

The perpetual smile finally slipped from her face. “I’m a good listener.”

“I know you are, Emily. I have to work this out alone.”

“If you’re no longer interested in me and the sort of future we discussed, just tell me.”

He closed his eyes. Cling to the past or force out the lie?

“Luc.”

He heard another female call his name, this one farther away. But her familiar voice zipped across his senses like an electric charge through his body, spreading chills across his skin. Had he missed her so much he’d dreamed her?

He whirled around, hope spiking inside him. And across the room she stood.

“Alyssa?” Shock sucker-punched him. Luc nearly couldn’t breathe.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d thrown him out of her club. Out of her life. Why was she here now? Was she okay? Had she missed him, even a bit?

He drank in the sight of her. Despite six weeks passing, Alyssa still took his breath away as she cautiously drew closer. She’d fastened half of her long platinum hair at her nape and let the remaining strands trail down, stopping low on her back. Worn jeans clung to her small figure, looser than he remembered. Somehow the black stilettos made her look more fragile. She wore a tight Sexy Sirens T-shirt with red lettering that invited Come Live Your Fantasy right across her breasts. She wore almost no makeup. Even so, her eyes were hauntingly blue. And she looked exhausted.

When she stood a few feet away, Alyssa glanced at Emily, then looked back at him. “Your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Emily answered quickly.

With a raised brow, Alyssa sent him a cold stare. “I’ll contact you at a better time.”

She turned and walked out the archway, into the main space of the department store. Luc didn’t think twice. He dodged around the demonstration table and charged after her.

Just before his approach, she whirled to him, frustration all over her face. Luc stopped in his tracks. He wanted to touch her so badly . . . but she’d told him never to touch her again. Even now, her expression warned him away.

“Don’t leave.” He heard the pleading in his voice.

God, he’d missed her so much. He’d say anything—do anything—just to spend five more minutes with her. In that moment, Luc feared he knew why.

He’d fallen in love.

She cut a glance over to Emily across the room. Luc didn’t have to look at the other woman to feel her confusion and hurt. Some foolish side of him rejoiced. Emily must be seeing where his heart was. So much easier than sitting her down over a civilized dinner to crush her picket fence.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t want me here,” Alyssa pointed out

“I want you here. Don’t go.” He fastened a desperate gaze on her and willed her to understand.

“Is there someplace we can talk? I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“Take all you want.”

Alyssa bit that lush lower lip, then looked up at him through the veil of her dark lashes. It was a nervous gesture—sexy as hell. But he worried . . . She looked thinner, paler, more vulnerable.

“Are you all right?” He barely stopped himself from wrapping a light hand around her shoulder.

She bit her lip harder. “Not here.”

Someplace private. Right. “Wait just a moment.”

Luc jogged back to the demonstration room, trying to think of something to say to Emily. He came up blank. “I have to go.”

“What about your birthday dinner?” she screeched.

What about it? He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, he shook his head.

Emily examined his face with intelligent hazel eyes. “She’s what happened to you in Louisiana.”

Perceptive. He sucked in a breath and took the plunge. “Yes.”

The woman glanced over at Alyssa. “She’s incredibly beautiful.”

“Inside and out.”

“I never stood a chance.” Emily tried to cover her shock and disappointment with a tight smile, but she choked on her words.

Damn, lately it seemed that he hurt people wherever he went, but he had to start being honest with Emily. It was unkind of him to continue this charade with her. He would not make her a good husband. And though Luc didn’t know why Alyssa was here, it didn’t matter. If she was entering his life again, even for a moment, as long as he had the possibility of being with her, he would grab it with both hands. Maybe the hot flame of their passion would burn out, but he didn’t think so. Either way, they weren’t done. If she let him in her life again and came to trust him, he’d tell her about his sterility—and let the chips fall.

“You love her,” Emily said softly.

It wasn’t a question, and Luc refused to insult her with a lie. “Yes.”

Her face crumpled. “You’re not going to call me again, are you?”

Luc took her hands in his. “Would you really want me to?”

Sighing as a fat tear rolled down her face, she shook her head and pulled her hands free. “I know it’s best if you don’t. For what it’s worth . . . I liked you very much.”

Damn, he felt like such a prick. “You’re a wonderful woman, and someday, someone will make you very happy because he loves you, not the idea of you.”

He bent and kissed her cheek. Then with a tight nod, she raced out of the little room, spearing Alyssa with a glance as she exited the department store and out to the crisp autumn afternoon.

The moment she was gone, Luc returned to Alyssa’s side. She stepped back as he approached, looking distressed.

“I didn’t hear anything she said except . . . it’s your birthday?”

Luc smiled encouragingly. “Having you here is a gift I didn’t expect.”

“I ruined your evening.”

No, she’d saved it. “Not at all. Let’s grab a bite, and we can talk.”

Luc expected her to refuse. Alyssa hesitated, then sent him a nervous nod.

Pleasantly surprised at her agreement, he led her to his waiting car, a new Jaguar he’d purchased after signing the cable TV agreement two weeks ago.

As they approached the vehicle, a photographer race-walked across the sidewalk to reach him, camera flashing. Luc tried to shield Alyssa with his body, thankful that she’d donned sunglasses that hid half her face.

“Emily Adams left alone in tears. Is this your new girlfriend?” the photographer shouted, snapping pictures all the while.