“Yes.”
He stood and looked across the room at Jane. At the dark curls he loved to touch. Her smooth white skin and pink mouth he loved to kiss. This woman looked like Jane, but if she was really Honey Pie, she was not the woman he thought he knew.
“Now you don’t have to hire someone,” she said as if that were some damn consolation. “And you don’t have to suspect one of the guys.”
He stared into her eyes as if he could see the unbelievable truth written there. What he saw was guilt. His chest felt suddenly hollow. He’d trusted her enough to let her into his home and his life. His sister’s life too. He felt like such an ass.
“I wrote it the night after you kissed me the first time. You could say I was inspired by you.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “I wrote it a long time before we became involved.”
“Not that long.” Even to himself, his voice sounded strange. Like his chest, hollow, waiting for his anger to rise up and fill it. It would, but not yet. “You’ve always known how I feel about that made-up bullshit being written about me. I told you.”
“I know, but please don’t be angry. Or rather, be angry, because you have every right. It’s just that…” Her tears filled her eyes again and she wiped at them with her fingers. “It’s just that I was so attracted to you, and you kissed me and I wrote it.”
“And sent it in to be published in a porno magazine.”
“I was hoping you’d be flattered.”
“You knew I wouldn’t be.” The anger he’d been holding swelled in his chest. He had to get out of there. He had to get away from Jane. The woman he’d thought he was falling in love with. “You must have had a real good laugh when I thought you were a prude. When I thought my fantasies would shock you.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Not only had she betrayed his trust in her, she’d made a raging fool of him. “What else am I going to read about myself?”
“Nothing.”
“Right.” He walked to the door and reached for the handle.
“Luc, wait! Don’t go.” He paused. Her voice came to him, filled with tears and the same stabbing pain that twisted in his gut. “Please,” she cried. “We can work this out. I can make this up to you.”
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to see her. “I don’t think so, Jane.”
“I love you.”
Her words were one more knife to his back, and the anger he’d been holding back finally broke free. He thought he would come apart with it. “Then I would hate to see what you do to people you don’t love.” He opened the door. “Stay the hell away from me, and stay away from my sister.”
He moved down the hall. The busy pattern of the carpet was a blur. Jane was Honey Pie. His Jane. Even though he knew it was true, he was having a real hard time swallowing it all at once.
He walked into his room and leaned back against the closed door. The whole time he’d thought she was a prude, she wrote porn. The whole time he’d thought she was uptight, she knew more about sex than he did. The whole time they’d been together, he’d trusted her and she was taking notes.
She’d said she loved him. He didn’t believe her for a second. He’d trusted her and she’d stabbed him in the back. She’d used him to write her porn article. She’d known how he’d feel about it, and she’d done it anyway.
The whole time he’d been careful not to make her feel like a groupie, she was actually… What was Honey Pie? A nymphomaniac?
Was Jane a nymphomaniac? No. Was she? He didn’t know. He didn’t know a thing about her.
The only thing he knew for certain was that he was a damn fool.
Chapter 17
On the Limp: Injured
She’d been a fool. Several times over. First for falling in love with Luc, even as she’d known he’d break her heart. Then for looking him in the face and telling him that she was Honey Pie. He hadn’t known. Chances were that he never would have known.
She knew, and it had burned like a charcoal briquet right beneath her sternum. In the end she’d told him to relieve his mind. He’d been so freaked out thinking that someone was lurking in the shadows… and she supposed someone was. Her. And she’d told him to relieve her own conscience. So why didn’t she feel better?
Jane tossed her suitcase on the floor and burst into tears. She’d spent roughly seven hours in taxis or airports or on planes trying to get home. Trying to keep it together. She couldn’t anymore. The pain of losing Luc racked her body and huge sobs tore at her lungs. She’d known losing him would hurt, but she’d never imagined so much pain was even possible.
Moonlight poured through the window of the small bedroom in her apartment, and she shut the curtain. Shutting herself up in darkness. She’d taken the first available flight out of Phoenix that afternoon. She’d had a two-hour layover in San Francisco before continuing on to Seattle. She was a physical and emotional wreck. She’d had to leave. She hadn’t had a choice. She could not have walked into the locker room the next night and seen Luc’s face. She would have fallen apart. Right there in front of everyone.