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Shattered

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Год написания книги
2018
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Wyatt was entranced by their exuberance. He glanced up and met Kate’s stark gaze at the opposite end of the plane. He saw the flicker of panic in her eyes and followed her gaze to where Bruce was locking the door to the Gulfstream, barring Kate’s last avenue of escape before they landed at the private airstrip near his compound north of Houston.

“Folks, we’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot drawled over the intercom in a thick East Texas accent. “Please take your seats and buckle your seat belts.”

The twins ignored the announcement.

“You boys need to buckle in so we can take off,” Wyatt said, tapping each boy on the shoulder. “The pilot will let us know when it’s safe to move around again.”

The twins each had a handful of DVDs when they stood.

“I’ll hold those for you.” Wyatt held out both hands.

Lucky looked to his mother, who nodded, before he handed over his loot. Chance followed suit. Wyatt stowed the DVDs they’d selected in an overhead compartment.

“Where should we sit?” Lucky asked Wyatt.

“I want you both where I can see you,” Kate said, pointing to facing seats on the same side of the plane as the couch. Each boy grabbed one of the seats on opposite sides of a table and reached for the seat belt. Kate helped Chance, while Wyatt helped Lucky.

Kate shot him an aggravated look but didn’t say anything.

She took a seat across from the twins. Wyatt took the seat opposite her, with a table separating them.

Bruce headed to the back of the plane, where he sat on one of the four club seats around what would be the dining table near the galley.

Wyatt tried to meet Kate’s gaze, but she turned her face toward the boys and ignored him. She’d barely spoken a word since he’d given his ultimatum at her home, except to explain to the boys that they were going on a little vacation. Which suited him fine. At least she wasn’t saying or doing anything to make Lucky and Chance dislike him.

Once they were at altitude, he got the boys settled watching WALL-E, where they were quickly engrossed. Bruce was in the galley fixing plates of pizza and handed Wyatt a can of soda for each of the boys.

Kate stepped into the aisle and intercepted him close to the galley. “I don’t allow them to have carbonated beverages.”

Wyatt grimaced. “What do they drink?”

“Water. Or lemonade, if you have that.”

“It’ll have to be water. Even with pizza?” he asked.

“Water is the perfect beverage, Mr. Shaw.”

He set the Coke cans down on a nearby table and stuck his hands on his hips. “Mr. Shaw?”

She flushed. Her voice was low and intense and full of resentment. “How about Mr. Kidnapper? That fits.”

“Look who’s talking,” he shot back, keeping his voice equally low, fighting the rage that rose every time he thought of all the years he’d lost with his sons. “You’re the one who kept my children hidden from me.”

She didn’t excuse herself again. Or argue the point. “What am I supposed to call you?”

“Wyatt. It’s my name. Or Shaw, if it suits you.”

“All right, Shaw. There, is that better?”

“Much. And I’d like my sons to call me something besides Mr. Shaw.”

“Please, Shaw, don’t tell them you’re their father,” she pleaded. “Not yet. They’re too young to understand all of this.”

“I don’t want the twins upset or frightened any more than you do. I can wait.”

“Thank you.”

He saw another flash of resentment before she lowered her gaze. Before he could express the resentment he was feeling at her resentment, she raised her eyes to his and said, “Why not have them call you Shaw, too, without the mister?”

He supposed that was a good compromise. “All right,” he said grudgingly. At least until they knew the truth. By then he hoped they would want to call him Dad or Papa or Daddy. Because he was planning to spend the rest of his life being their father.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said to Kate, indicating one of two seats on either side of the table near the galley. He waited until she sat, then traded the Cokes for bottled water, crossed back to the boys, took off the caps and dropped the bottles into the recessed glass holders on each side of the table between them.

“Pizza’s ready, Boss,” Bruce called from the galley.

Kate rose. “Can I help?”

“Bruce and I can handle it,” Wyatt said, returning down the aisle and putting a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to sit again.

She jerked away from his touch, crying out as she hit her hip against the table.

Lucky turned around in his seat. “Mom, are you all right?”

“Just bumped into the table,” she called back in a falsely cheerful voice.

Wyatt was amazed that the boy was so aware of his mother. Not nearly so surprised that Kate had kept her injury from her sons. She was still obviously in pain, holding her lower lip in her teeth to keep from crying out again.

“You’re hurt,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

He glanced at the spot on her hip she was rubbing gently with her fingertips. He could remember what that exact spot of skin near her hipbone looked like. He’d kissed it. And caressed it.

He met her gaze and saw from the troubled look in her eyes that she remembered, too. She shook her head as though to deny what she was feeling. Or perhaps to warn him that she had no intention of letting what had happened between them once happen ever again.

She sank back down, but he could feel her eyes on him as he headed the few extra steps to the galley to get the plates of pizza Bruce had prepared for the boys.

He wondered if Kate would be more amenable to the idea of him being a father to Lucky and Chance if she knew that he intended to spend the rest of his life with her as his wife.

Probably not.

Everything she’d said or done had made it clear that the sooner she was shed of Wyatt Shaw, the better. So how was he supposed to woo her? How was he supposed to win her heart?

Especially when he’d been accused of murder.

He wondered what she would do if he told her who he believed had actually strangled the woman found dead in his bed.

Likely call him a liar.
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