An Unexpected Attraction (Love Unexpected Book 3) (18 page)

A knock on the door signaled his bottle had arrived, and Jay dragged to his feet. The hotel employee smiled broadly, but Jay wasn’t in a smiling mood. To make up for his surly attitude, he tipped the young man generously. He couldn’t wait to get stinking drunk off the hotel’s overpriced liquor.

He sank onto the sofa and placed the bottle and glass on the table in front of him. The room was hazy, like a dream. Unfortunately, this was all real. No matter how much he drank to make the pain of betrayal go away, the truth remained. Jenna had suspected all along.
Suspected,
but never took the steps to confirm paternity. And after she had, she didn’t see fit to tell him the truth.

Pain jabbed his chest, as if someone were sticking knives into the cavity.

Jay buried his head in his hands. He’d taught both boys how to swim while on vacation at the family’s villa on Lake Maggiore in Turin. He’d taught them how to ride a bike one year when they’d spent the month of July with him in Atlanta.

Those were his boys—both of them. Marco may not have Jay’s blood running through his veins, but he was
his
son. Years of betrayal and lies didn’t change that.

The yawning ache in his chest widened, and he no longer expected the bottle in front of him could alleviate the pain.

He looked at the phone and wondered….had Brenda known, too? Could she have also been part of the conspiracy to keep the truth from him?

He was about to find out.

****

Brenda snatched up the phone from the bedside table when she heard the special ring tone she’d assigned to Jay’s name. She dropped onto the bed, wrapped in a damp towel from the shower she’d taken a few minutes before.

Her heart tripped with trepidation. She sat against the headboard and drew her feet up on the bed. “How did it go?”

“Did you know about Marco?” Jay asked.

His dead, emotionless voice sounded so completely unlike Jay she was startled and worried at the same time.

“What’s going on?”

“Did you know Marco isn’t my son?”

Brenda’s mouth fell open, the only sound a croak of disbelief before she closed it again. She shook her head in shock. Perhaps she’d misunderstood. “What do you mean he’s not your son?”

“Did you know?” he demanded.

“No. Jay, what’s going on?”

“Jenna told you everything.”

“Not that. I swear to you. My goodness, the boys are…they’re
twins
.”

He laughed bitterly, and the sound was so anguished she wished she was with him right then so she could hold him. “Fraternal twins. Two different eggs. And in this case, two different fathers.”

Brenda couldn’t even wrap her mind around the implication of his words. That would mean Jenna had cheated on Jay.

“I swear to you I had no idea. I never even suspected. I assumed Arturo was like your side of the family and Marco took after hers.”

“So did I,” he said quietly.

“Who’s the father?” This was like a bad episode of the “Maury Show.”

“Her new boyfriend, Dale. He came to our wedding as a friend, but obviously he had been more than a friend,” Jay muttered.

“Jay…” She wanted to reach through the phone and comfort him.

“And she knew you and I had feelings for each other. She didn’t urge her father to get you the interview in Chicago because of your friendship. She did it because she wanted to get you away from me.”

“What?” Brenda said, her breathing halting. That revelation left her floored.

“I’m here for one more night,” Jay said heavily. “I want to spend as much time with my—with my sons as possible.”

Brenda held on to the phone tightly, her heart aching for him. “Is there anything I can do? Tell me what you need.”

“Nothing.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

He huffed out a breath. “I’ll be fine.”

“Jay…”

“I’ll be fine, Brenda. I need time alone to think right now. I’ll be in touch.”

****

Worry ate at Brenda.

Three days had passed since her conversation with Jay, and she’d tried calling him numerous times, but he hadn’t answered his phone. She called Omega Advertising, and his secretary said he’d taken a short leave of absence and wouldn’t be back for a few days. Then last night he’d sent a cryptic text asking her to stop trying to contact him. He needed time alone.

He may say he wanted to be left alone, but she was certain that he shouldn’t be. She needed to see him, hold him, touch him. Anything to ease his pain and alleviate some of what he must be going through.

She couldn’t help him from her apartment, so she packed a bag, hopped in the car, and drove to his house in Alpharetta. It was difficult to drive at a sane pace and not risk injuring herself and other drivers on the road, but she managed.

Upon arrival, she left her bag in the car. She’d been in such a hurry to get to his house, she hadn’t grabbed a jacket, and the sheer white blouse and ankle-length skirt she wore were insufficient to keep her comfortable in the cool fall air.

She pressed close to the door of his house and rang the doorbell, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to generate warmth.

She waited.

And waited.

She rang the bell again, certain he was home, but would he leave her out there?

“Open, Jay, please,” she whispered. Had she been wrong to come? He’d made it clear he didn’t want company, but she’d known him for so long. Knew how much he adored Marco and Arturo. She couldn’t let him suffer alone.

She rang the bell one more time, but he still didn’t come.

Dejected, Brenda was in a half turn when the door opened.

She’d hoped that when he saw her he would change his mind, but he looked exactly the way he’d sounded on the phone. Solemn, grim. He didn’t want her there, but her eyes drank him in. Glorious in a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms, he stared at her with his black hair disheveled, as if she’d disturbed him from sleep.

“I told you I wanted to be alone,” he said.

She swallowed. “I know, but I couldn’t stay away.”

“This is hard for me,” he grated.

“I know,” she whispered. “Do you want me to go?”

“You shouldn’t have come in the first place,” he snarled.

If he could say something so hurtful with her standing there, after the times they’d spent together and the moments they’d shared, then she had made a mistake. His rejection humiliated her. What had she been thinking? A few orgasms did not a relationship make.

“Fine,” she said, using anger to mask her embarrassment.

But her anger was not directed at him. He was being honest. She was angry at herself for being so brash as to show up unannounced. Obviously he didn’t need her.

She swung away but didn’t get far. He caught her around the waist and pulled her back against him. He flattened his nose against her neck, the rough hairs on his jaw and chin chafing her skin. The same way they had grated against her inner thighs, her stomach, the tender flesh of her breasts.

She grabbed onto the doorframe for support, already weak-kneed from his touch. The other hand she used to touch his cheek, trembling as he pressed his erection into her bottom. She lifted her hips against him, seeking his heat.

Muttering an oath, he dragged her inside. The door slammed and he pressed her against the door. With her cheek to the wood, he bunched up her skirt and began the climb to her inner thigh.

His hand made contact with the warmth between her legs and gently squeezed. She gasped, having difficulty catching her breath, the need was so great. It had been less than a week since they last saw each other, but the raw pain of her aching body gave no indication such a short period had passed.

“I need you,” he groaned.

Nodding vigorously, she turned in his arms, willing to do anything to ease his anguish. His hands moved under her skirt, and he cupped her bottom as their mouths joined together. He grinded her into the door, prepping her for what was to come. She was ready, soaked, and shaking.

She shoved the pants past his hips, and he peeled off her clothes, one piece at a time. First the skirt, then the thin, practically transparent fabric of her top came off, revealing the swell of her brown breasts over the top of the black demi-cup bra.

She pulled his head down to hers and their tongues lunged toward each other. Naked, skin to skin, the hairs on his chest tickled her nipples and the irregular beat of her heart clamored against his.

His hands went behind her knees and he lifted her and walked toward the carpeted staircase. Instead of climbing to the bedroom, he lowered onto a step and she followed, easing onto his thick shaft. As he entered her body, she moaned and tightened her arms around him. She strained closer, the experience of being filled by him sending a tremble of erotic pleasure coursing through her veins.

Then his lips were on the skin of her neck, at the pulse of her throat, and lower to her aching breasts. Each flick of his tongue was sublime, each suck a pleasure she never wanted to live without. She held on tighter, arching her body, one hand around his neck, the other gripping a baluster on the wooden rail.

They moved in perfect sync, retreating and then thrusting together in a heated clasp. His hands supported her back as she bounced on top of his pumping hips. Her moans grew louder and her breathing became more sporadic. He pushed his hips with increased fervor, the lean muscles of his stomach contracting with the effort. Their movements became less and less controlled with each passing second, and her hold on him tightened.

They were so in tune with each other that their mutual satisfaction came at the same time. He with a loud shout, and she with a keening cry. Gasping, pumping, they fought through the battering waves of orgasmic bliss. He spilled inside of her, and she shuddered, eyes closed tight, before slumping against him.

They clung to each other on the staircase, their damp bodies loathe to separate. She inhaled deeply, the fragrance of sweat and sex heavy in the air.

Tenderly, gently, she kissed his temple, his cheek, his mouth, and the deep cleft in his chin.

He sighed and buried his face in her neck. “He’s my son,” he muttered into her skin, his voice thick. “
Mio figlio. Mio figlio
.”
My son
.
My son
. The hurt emanating from him was almost tangible. It filled his voice, and she felt it in the air.

“I know, honey,” she said softly. She stroked her fingers through his fine hair, hugging him close, offering comfort the best way she knew. “I know.”

Chapter
Nineteen

“Are you okay?” Brenda whispered in the quiet of the room.

She lay wrapped around Jay’s back in the immense bed, one leg thrown over his waist, the covers over their hips. The European design of the bedroom furniture was evident in the clean lines of the two large dressers and the matching stands on either side of the bed.

She ran a hand up and down his muscular arm which lay lightly on her thigh, keeping her close to him. “Do you want to talk?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away, and she continued to caress his arm in a soothing motion. Over the smooth, corded muscles and down to the strength of his hair sprinkled forearms. Back and forth, back and forth.

“No,” he said finally. “But I feel better having you here. I feel as if I can finally face this thing.”

She kissed his back. “You can, and we’ll figure it out.”

She wondered when he and Jenna planned to tell Marco and Arturo. And would Dale want to take on a more active role in his son’s life now that the secret was out? Would he stop Jay from moving Marco to Atlanta to live?

A loud pounding came from downstairs, jarring her from her thoughts.

Jay groaned. “Who the hell is that at this hour?” he mumbled. He reached for the phone on the nightstand and checked the time.

The mystery person was pounding very loud and hadn’t taken a break. Immediately after that thought, the steady beating stopped and was followed by the chime of the doorbell.

Who in the world…?

“Stay here,” Jay said.

She had no intention of moving from the warm and comfy bed. She burrowed deeper under the blankets, rolling over into the warmth and scent left behind by Jay’s body.

She watched him tug on his pajama bottoms and walk out of the bedroom.

The pounding started again and Brenda frowned. Who could be so rude?

Jay had left the bedroom door ajar, and she strained her ear to hear the uninvited guest. The sound of a loud male voice traveled up to the second floor and into the room. She cocked her head and listened closely.

That sounded like Nick!

Brenda scrambled from the bed and grabbed Jay’s terry cloth robe from the bathroom door. It swallowed her, so large it fell around her ankles and almost wrapped around her twice. She tiptoed into the hall and peered down into the foyer, careful not to be seen.

“I know she’s here,” Nick said. She saw the top of his head. Unleashed anger filled his voice.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Jay told him in a calm voice.

“Tell me she’s not here, and I’ll leave. Tell me that’s not her car outside.”

“She’s not here.”

“You’re a liar!” Nick made a menacing move toward Jay, and Brenda held her breath.

Jay didn’t cower. “Get out of my house. You’re acting like a maniac.”

Nick stuck a finger in Jay’s face. “You’re a backstabber, and you’re no friend of mine.”

Jay continued to stare at him calmly, but the muscles of his back and shoulders were rigid with tension. “You have a couple of options. Leave now, peacefully, or I’ll toss you out.”

Nick didn’t budge. His hand closed into a fist at his side, and his chest heaved up and down as he pulled in lungful after lungful of air. He looked ready to charge, then thought better of it and swung back to the door.

Jay followed, but at the last minute, Nick swung around and landed a fist straight to his temple.

The wild punch knocked Jay backward into the entryway table. He reached out to hold on, but the furniture was no match for his weight. Jay, the table, and a vase crashed to the floor. The vase shattered and pieces of glass launched in a dozen directions.