His Brand of Passion

‘I need to leave in a few minutes, but I thought we should talk.’

She nodded, eyeing the lines of strain from nose to mouth that never seemed to leave him. ‘You work too hard, you know.’

‘Not hard enough.’ He spoke matter-of-factly, and Zoe stared at him incredulously.

‘How can it not be hard enough? You’re a millionaire, Aaron. Or is it a billionaire?’ She shook her head. ‘What more do you want?’

His mouth thinned as he put the rest of the sliced fruit in the bowl. ‘It’s not important.’

‘Not important? If I’m going to marry you, don’t you think I should know the answers to these questions?’

He glanced up, his gaze hooded, blazing and swift. ‘So are you going to marry me?’

The breath bottled in her lungs and she held his gaze, shaking her head slowly. ‘I don’t know.’

‘But you’re thinking about it.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘How can I not?’

‘You could have dismissed it out of hand.’

Zoe felt a blush heat her cheeks. Yes, she could have—should have, probably. What sane woman even thought about marrying a man she barely knew? Wasn’t always sure she liked? And when she was, unfortunately, quite positive that he didn’t love her?

And yet… They shared something. She’d felt it last night, when she’d told him as much and seen the confusion in his eyes. She’d felt it when she’d lain in his arms and known there was absolutely no other place she would rather be. She felt it now…even as her brain was screaming at her to stop, not to leap into a relationship—a marriage—that would surely hurt her in the end.

Yet still she considered it. Hoped.

Typical Zoe, her sister would say, leaping ahead to a fairy-tale ending after the first date. Except this time Aaron had beaten her to it.

Except she didn’t think he was envisioning fairy tales.

‘I could have dismissed it,’ she answered, willing her blush to fade. ‘Perhaps I should. After all, this is the twenty-first century. Most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at a child with unmarried parents.’

‘No,’ Aaron agreed tonelessly. ‘They probably wouldn’t.’

‘So why do you think it’s a good idea?’ Zoe dared to ask. ‘You have to admit, it’s a pretty big leap.’

‘Marriage is always a pretty big leap.’

He had a pat answer for everything, but he wasn’t really telling her much. Telling her the truth. ‘But most people who get married have dated. Known each other.’ She swallowed, forced herself to continue. ‘Love each other.’

Aaron’s expression didn’t change. The man was like a stone, Zoe thought. ‘Most people,’ he agreed.

‘What are you, Switzerland?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Stop being so damn neutral. This isn’t some negotiation.’

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘It is.’

Zoe leaned forward. ‘Tell me the real reason, Aaron, why you want to marry me.’ She saw Aaron still and his face go even blanker, if that were possible. She knew she shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have made it about her, because it so obviously, painfully, wasn’t. ‘I mean,’ she clarified quietly, ‘Why you think marriage is the right choice in our—situation.’ Now she was talking like him. Situations and solutions. So unemotional, so heartless.

Aaron didn’t answer for a long moment; he seemed to be considering his words carefully. ‘Because anything else is just making the best of things.’

‘Isn’t that what we’re doing? What we should be doing?’

He shook his head. ‘What’s the alternative, really, Zoe? Coming to some awkward custody arrangement, where I’ll get to see our child every other weekend, maybe a Wednesday evening?’

‘That sounds like an ideal situation for you,’ Zoe couldn’t keep from replying. ‘An ideal solution. You get to be a dad, but it doesn’t impinge on your lifestyle. Your work.’

He gazed at her, giving nothing away. ‘You think that’s what I want?’

‘It’s certainly what you have seemed to want,’ Zoe answered evenly. ‘You’ve never acted like you’re thrilled about this, Aaron, or like you’re dying to change nappies.’

He didn’t reply, just turned to pour coffee into a thick ceramic mug. ‘You’re off coffee, aren’t you?’ he asked her, his back to her, and stupidly it touched her that he’d noticed.

‘I’ll have tea.’

He reached for tea bags, still not answering her accusations, for that was what it felt like—like she’d lobbed a few grenades right into the kitchen. And yet she knew it was true; Aaron had never acted like he was happy about this. About her. And she wanted him to be.

‘Just because I didn’t choose something doesn’t mean I won’t do what’s right,’ he finally said, handing her a mug of tea. ‘Trust me on that.’ There was something so grim about his tone that Zoe felt as if he must be speaking from experience, although she had no idea what it could be.

‘I don’t want you to marry me because you think it’s right,’ she said, stung by the implication. ‘I don’t want anyone to marry me for that reason. I want to marry—’

‘For love,’ he finished flatly. ‘I figured.’

She let out a short laugh. ‘Don’t sound so disgusted.’

‘I’m not disgusted. Resigned, perhaps.’

‘To what?’

‘To the fact that you would resist because of this. Because I don’t love you.’

Ouch. She blinked, willing herself not to react. Not to feel the hurt that still rushed through her like water through a burst dam. Of course he didn’t love her. It would have been ridiculous and frankly unbelievable if he had said he had. Wasn’t she glad he could be honest, at least?

She stirred her tea, staring down into its fragrant depths. ‘And it doesn’t bother you? The whole love thing, or lack of it?’ she asked, her gaze still fixed firmly on her tea.

‘No.’

Of course he didn’t offer any more explanations. Getting personal information from this man was like getting blood from a stone. ‘Why not?’

A shrug, a sip of coffee. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever counted on.’

‘Love? But you must have some love in your life, Aaron. I mean, if not a woman, then your family. Your brothers.’ He stared at her without expression and, exasperated, Zoe continued, ‘All right—your mother, then.’

‘My mother lived her life in a state of intense depression and died when I was fifteen.’ He took a sip of coffee and glanced away. ‘Besides, Luke was her favourite.’

It was more personal information than he’d ever offered before, and she had a feeling he regretted revealing it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Why should you?’

‘Is that why—why you’re not interested in a loving relationship now?’

‘This is not a discussion I’m interested in having,’ he answered flatly. ‘Next you’ll be getting out the crayons and asking me to draw a picture of my feelings. Don’t psychoanalyse me, Zoe, and don’t hope that somehow I’ll change. I suggested marriage, but I won’t pretend I love you, or that I’ll ever love you.’

‘Ever?’ she repeated, trying to make light of it rather than burst into tears, which was what at least part of her felt like doing. ‘What, are you incapable?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You don’t even want to give it a chance?’

‘No.’

No hope, then. She swallowed, nausea roiling inside her that had nothing to do with morning sickness. ‘So what kind of marriage are you talking about, then?’

‘A partnership. Maybe even a friendship.’

‘Maybe?’

‘I don’t really do friendship. But I can try.’

‘You don’t do friendship?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t have friends. I never have.’

She blinked, shocked by his admission even though part of her wasn’t really surprised. ‘What a lonely life you’ve led, Aaron.’

‘You’re only lonely if you feel lonely.’

‘And have you felt lonely?’

He stared at her without blinking for a long moment. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally said, and she knew it was a confession, more of one than he’d wanted to make.

‘So what do you envision this marriage looking like? On, you know, a daily basis?’

He shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Something the way it looks now, I suppose.’

With him working sixteen-hour days and her wandering around the apartment when she wasn’t at work. Except, of course, it would be different, because she would have a child. And a life; she wouldn’t be in this awful limbo, waiting for something to happen.

Except, Zoe thought with cringing insight, she would be. She would be in an even worse, endless limbo, waiting for him to love her. Even if he’d just told her he wouldn’t, ever; Zoe knew that herself. Knew she would keep wishing for it, trying to make it happen, and living on the thin vapour of hope until she had nothing left.