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“Her boss!”
“The billionaire!”
And, doubtfully, “Heslept withher?”
His worn black motorcycle boots echoed in the sudden breathless silence. He stopped a few feet away, beneath the steps to the altar.
Suddenly, he was in front of her, close enough to touch.
“I didn’t...lie,” she choked out.
Theo’s black eyes flickered to her baby bump as his low voice cut her to pieces. “You lied.”
Shame went through her because she knew he was right, followed by anger because she’d had good reasons.
“So?” she cried, tossing her head in a wave of tulle. “We both know you’re not up for it. You don’t do commitment or love. What could you possibly offer our child but money?” She lifted her chin. “No, thanks. We’re fine without you.”
His lips parted with an intake of breath. Almost as if she’d wounded him. No, impossible. He had no heart to wound, though he’d hurt her so badly.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“So you cut me out.” His voice was as cold, smooth and dark as the surface of an arctic sea. “You took your judgment of me as license to steal my baby away.”
Emmie caught her breath.Steal?Was that what she’d done?
“You’rethe father of Emmie’s baby?” Harold blurted out beside her. She’d forgotten he was there. Her erstwhile bridegroom seemed to shrink into his tux, goggling at Theo’s imposing frame.
And no wonder. Emmie looked up at her former boss.
It seemed a great injustice of the universe that after seven months apart Theo was more handsome than ever. His muscular chest and shoulders were wrapped in a form-fitting black T-shirt, and black denim caressed his powerful thighs down to short black leather boots. His square jaw was unshaven, leaving a dark shadow from hard cheekbones to his sensual lips. Black eyebrows slashed over his harsh, dark gaze.
She felt a sense of despair, of rage and grief that he could still dazzle her and make her want him. She gripped her bouquet, wishing she could smash him over the head with it. She felt a small burst of pain in her thumb as a single thorn pricked her. Putting her thumb to her lips, she sucked the aching spot.
Theo’s gaze fell to her mouth. His jaw tightened. He turned to her elderly bridegroom.
“You are no longer required here.”
“I can see that,” Harold replied with dignity. “You should take over.” Patting Emmie’s hand, he said quietly, “I wish you all the luck in the world, my dear, in your marriage.”
She stared at him, flummoxed. “You’ve got it all wrong. He’s not going to marry me—”
But Harold turned away from the altar to sit in the front pew. His elderly neighbor, Luly Olsen, wearing a flowery dress and pink hat decorated with cloisonné pins of dogs, caressed his shoulder consolingly.
Emmie couldn’t blame him for not wanting to face down Theo. Harold was an old-fashioned man and of course assumed Theo would wish to marry the mother of his unborn child.
But her father and brothers were not so trusting.
“Like hell he won’t!” From the other side of the pews, her father rose to his feet, his weathered face dumbfounded. “Katrakis. You’re the lover in Rio?”
“Her boss!” Beside him, the four big Swenson brothers, well-fed as linebackers, rose of one accord, fists clenched and lower lips stuck out.
Scowling, five Swenson men came forward with the hostility of an opposing football team or army battalion.
“You seduced my daughter. Abandoned her,” Karl Swenson accused.
She heard the low mutter across the church. There’d been sympathy for the Swenson family since Margie Swenson died, Margie of the kind word and butteryfikapastries. Margie who’d often snuck treats to children and dogs, offering free meals and gentle encouragement to anyone who needed a helping hand.
“There are more important things than money, Emmie,” her mother tried to tell her.
