And tried like hell not to be mad now because he hadn't known the half of it that day.

In spite of all their talk of being friends, she hadn't told him the outcome of those tests.

She'd carried around the knowledge that her child had Down syndrome for months and never once told him.

Whatever he'd done to make her hold back, he would fix it. He had to, for the little bruiser in the back seat. For his kids inside. And yeah, maybe even for himself so he could sleep again without dreaming about her and her orange thong. "I want us to be friends again."

"Really?"

"Yeah." God yes, he did. And he didn't.

"Me too."

"So we'll just do it. Backtrack a few months and pick up from there."

"I'm not so sure I can do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you're looking damned fine to me too."

Blown out of the sky and he never even saw the missile coming.

Zach exhaled, long and slow. It was one thing suspecting she felt the attraction too. But hearing it. Well, that was a-whole-nother pack of trouble altogether. "No chance of anyone accusing you of holding things back."

She turned her head and smiled, soft and womanly and close. Only a few inches separated them, a hand span maybe. Even less space separated their mouths. It would be so easy to reach, so easy to grasp her arm and tug her to him. Her body language shouted a very firm go-ahead.

But her smile faded, her eyes blaring an unmistakable wary message, Please, don't hurt me.

Damn Lance Sinclair.

Damn himself too for wanting something so obviously wrong for both of them.

Zach shoved away from the car. "Go home, Julia. We're both tired and too lonely to be having this conversation now."

He opened the driver's door and stood aside. He never knew what to expect next with Julia. Anything from impromptu whittling lessons for Ivy to defiantly baring her pregnant body to a pool full of onlookers.

Zach prepped himself for anything.

Except her touch. There was no way in hell to steel himself against that.

Julia cupped his face in her hand, the numb side, frustrating him all the more with the diluted sensation. His brain knew her soft palm was there, and he felt the slightest pressure. But he wanted it all—the full-out feeling of her hands on him, and he had to settle for a phantom caress.

Her hand fell away. "Good night, Zach."

He held the door wide for her, tucking her inside and out of arm's reach before making tracks for the house. He forced himself not to look back. Eight hours of sleep and a solid morning of work and he'd be back on track. He gripped the doorknob.

Why hadn't she turned on the car?

He glanced over his shoulder and found Julia Sinclair doing the very last thing he expected.

Crying.

Not wracking, dramatic sobs like Pam had poured all over their arguments, but slow, leaking tears. Her whole body trembled as if from the mammoth effort of holding back.

Those few tears hammered him more than open floodgates.

The past year had been beyond hell for her, but never once had he seen anything more than those restrained tears. Even at her husband's funeral, she'd been pale but composed when Zach, Bronco, Cutter and Tag had walked past carrying the casket out of the church. Zach could still feel the weight of her dead husband in his hands, the weight of her constrained grief on his shoulders.

Tags: Catherine Mann Wingmen Warriors Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net