‘When did you find out where she is?’
‘I’ve always known where she is,’ Seb said, his voice harsh.
‘How?’
Seb lifted his eyebrows at her. ‘What do I do for a living, Ro?’
‘Oh,’ Rowan whispered, connecting the dots.
Seb rubbed the material between his fingers again. ‘I found her when I was about sixteen. She was in Prague. I managed to get hold of an e-mail address and I sent her a couple of letters...angry, vicious letters...demanding to know why she’d left and then, in the next breath, begging that she come home.’
‘Did she ever reply?’
Seb shook his head. ‘She changed her e-mail address and I lost track of her for a while. I’d tell myself that I didn’t give a damn and wouldn’t look for her. Then something would happen and I’d start again. But I never sent her another e-mail. I just need to know...you know...that she’s alive. And okay. Not in trouble...’
‘But you send her money.’
Seb’s eyes flew up to meet hers and Rowan shook her head at him.
‘You do send her money. Oh, Seb, you...’
‘Sucker? Chump? Idiot?’
Rowan placed her fingers over his lips. ‘You’re putting words into my mouth. I was going to say you shouldn’t.’
He felt his cheeks flush. ‘She’s often broke. What can I do? It’s just money. I don’t know why everyone gets all heated up about it. Money is easy...’
Rowan nodded her head. It was. Of course it was. To him. Money was black and white, no shades of grey, clearly defined. It held no emotion, no grudge, didn’t waver or prevaricate. He understood money. People, with all their flaws and craziness and ups and downs, flummoxed him.
‘What am I supposed to do, Ro? Not send her cash? Let her suffer because we suffered?’ he demanded.
Rowan saw the decades of pain buried deep and bit back her protective response—the one that made her want to snap, Yeah! You should let her climb out of the hole she’s dug herself into! Instead she bit her tongue and knew that he needed to talk to her, to someone, about his mum. Even tough guys, seemingly unemotional guys, needed to unload occasionally.
Rowan suspected that Seb was long overdue.
‘How many times have you sent money?’ she asked in her most neutral voice.
‘A couple of times a year for the past few years,’ Seb admitted reluctantly. ‘Before that she seemed to be okay for funds.’
‘And, if I know you, you probably sent a lump sum every time?’
‘It was always an anonymous deposit. There is no way she can trace who it came from.’
Rowan sucked in her cheeks and gazed at the floor, literally swallowing the angry words at the back of her throat. His mother was many things, but she wasn’t stupid, and she had to at the very least suspect that it was Seb. How many people would she have met and had a big enough impact on for them to make anonymous, generous ongoing deposits into her bank account? Who else would it be other than her computer genius son? And she’d never sent him an e-mail to say thank you, to acknowledge him...
Oooh, that was rough.
Rowan looked down at her hands, vibrating with tension. Good grief, families were complicated. Parent-child relationships could be crazy. The ways to mess up your children were infinite, she decided.
Seb still held the hem of her dress—his mum’s dress—between his fingers and Rowan looked at his bent head, at the masculine planes of his face, the tiny tick of tension in that single dimple in his cheek. Her tough guy, smart guy, good guy. So strong, so alpha, so damn attractive in his complexity. She’d known him for ever but she felt that she could spend another lifetime discovering all the nuances of his personality; he was that layered, that interesting.
That intriguing.
Ugh, pull up those reins, cowgirl. Your horse is bolting away from you... You’re not going to get sappy and sentimental. You can’t afford to, and you know this!
Rowan stood up, grabbed the edges of the hem of the dress and pulled it up and over her head. Seb gaped as she stood in front of him in just a brief pair of white panties and silver heels. No bra.
His eyes clouded over and Rowan smiled a tiny smile of feminine satisfaction. So sue her. She could make this hot guy salivate, and as a bonus banish the sadness from his eyes.
She looked at the dress in her hand. ‘I love this dress...but I understand if you don’t want me to wear it.’
Seb bit the inside of his lip. ‘I want to say yes but... Maybe some day. Just...’
‘Not today.’ Rowan nodded her understanding. She looked at the pile of discarded dresses on the floor. ‘Okay, black it is, then. Which one?’