Putting distance between them was best for her. That was what he firmly believed. His feelings were irrelevant. Yet, he couldn’t deny the magnetic pull he felt, or the way his eyes constantly searched for her in every room he entered.
Obsession wasn’t a word he used lightly. But it fit.
Motion near the main house drew his attention. A woman in black, her ponytail swishing fast as she walked away.
He locked onto it, but before everything else faded away, he mentally shook himself. Distraction was unacceptable. There were club members present, scenes in progress. His responsibility didn’t shift because his attention did.
Duty came first. Always.
“Cover for me,” he called to Mateo, who was heading toward the bar.
“I just finished a shift in the playroom, man,” he said, obviously ready for a break, but one look at him, and Mateo’s expression changed. He nodded. “I’ve got it.”
Leland didn’t wait. He was on the move before the words left Mateo’s mouth.
He checked inside the house first and the catering kitchen. Julia was nowhere to be found. He spotted Emily on the patio and headed straight for her.
“Where is she?”
Emily didn’t pretend not to understand. “Gone.”
His jaw tightened. “How long?”
“Long enough.” More directly, “She couldn’t get out of here fast enough. It used to be her haven.”
Until youhung unspoken between them.
He flinched, and Emily saw it.
“What do you expect, Leland? You broke her heart.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have one.
He took the shadowed walkway beside the labyrinth, the fastest route to the front drive.
He reached it short of a run, and in time to see red taillights fading through the closed wrought-iron gate.
Leland stopped, slightly winded. Frustration surged, sharp and uncontrollable, and he slammed his fist against the nearest solid surface—a charcoal-gray Lexus. An alarm pierced the humid night air.
He barely registered it. The empty road beyond the gate was all he saw. Nothing left to follow.
Someone called his name from the steps near the security office. He didn’t answer.
He stood there, knuckles throbbing. The pain didn’t detract from the wanting. It didn’t listen to reason, discipline, or distance. It stayed—an ever-present ache for something he couldn’t have.
Shaking his hand, he turned and stalked toward the house.
Someone ran past him. The alarm cut off.
“What the fuck, Hale? You dented my car!”
“Send me the bill,” he growled, not slowing.
After ten years, he thought he’d learned to live with loneliness and self-denial. After Julia, he understood how wrong he’d been.
Chapter 3
Julia unlocked her door and stepped inside, greeted by the same stillness that always met her. She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door and went straight to the fridge, pulling it open with a glimmer of hope.
