The Billionaire's Touch (The Sinclairs #3)

He let go of the stone and jerked his hand from his pocket as he slid into the car.

Not able to completely forget Tessa’s beautiful, delicate face, Micah tried to focus his attention away from her and on Evan so they could figure out a way to get him his woman back.

Nevertheless, when Micah boarded his own jet the next morning, he did wonder how long it would be before he’d see her face again in the future.

He hoped it wouldn’t be long.





CHAPTER 21




The next morning, Evan sat in front of his computer in his downstairs office, wondering how in the hell he was going to write to Randi. It had always been so easy before, so natural, that he never thought about what to say. It was so much different now, and there was so much at stake.

His stomach rolled as he took another slug of his coffee. He’d already swallowed some pills to make his head stop banging. While the headache was slowly improving, the coffee he was swilling wasn’t helping his gut.

He popped a few antacids into his mouth and threw the roll back into the drawer.

No wonder I never drink. I feel like crap.

Ignoring his discomfort, he stared at the blank email in front of him with a scowl. Granted, he had known Randi wouldn’t be happy that he hadn’t shared who he really was with her, but he didn’t know she’d feel betrayed. All he’d wanted was a little more time. It nearly killed him that his actions had made her sad and distrustful. He’d rather die than to see her in pain, emotionally or physically.

What am I going to do if she doesn’t forgive me?

“Not an option,” Evan growled to himself as he placed his fingers on the keys. He’d gone from elation to the depths of despair last night. She’d told him she loved him, and then she’d left him. “She still loves me,” he muttered. “I need to make her understand that I didn’t intend to hurt her.”

No. I was just being a selfish prick. I didn’t think about how my secret would affect her, how she would feel because I didn’t share the discovery with her immediately.

Putting himself in her place, he would have probably been annoyed, too, but he would have gotten over it. He would have eventually ended up being pretty damn happy that the two women who fascinated him were one and the same.

Problem was, he hadn’t been certain she’d feel the same way.

I can never love a man like him . . .

Dammit . . . why had she written those words? There was nothing that would have stopped him from claiming her for a lifetime if he’d known that she loved him. He didn’t care what background she came from or what obstacles they had to overcome to be together.

I love you.

Had those words been real, or just a momentary thought when she was in the throes of a good climax? If she had meant it, did she still love him?

Evan was starting to hate himself because he was wracked with insecurities. He wasn’t a man who dealt well with failure, anxiety, indecision, or self-doubt.

“To hell with this,” he said aloud, talking to himself. He wished Lily were here. At least the canine would cock her head and pretend to be listening to him. She pretty much agreed with everything he said—that was the way he chose to interpret her actions, anyway. “I’ll keep writing to Randi until she listens.”

He’d had a brief conversation with Hope that morning to explain why he, Micah, and Julian had gone missing before the festivities had ended. He’d confessed that he hadn’t taken her advice. After a long lecture, she agreed that writing to Randi and giving her some space was the best option.

I’m writing, but I know it won’t be long before I show up on her doorstep. I can’t stay away.

Evan was wrestling with himself to not go directly to her house and demand that she belong to him forever.

“She’s mine. She was always meant to be mine. There’s never been anyone else for me,” he grumbled angrily, knowing he’d blown his one chance at real happiness. He knew what happy was now; it was Randi.

Maybe he’d known since the day he couldn’t resist replying to her smartass email over a year ago, but he just hadn’t been able to admit it. He hadn’t been lying when he told her that, maybe subconsciously, he’d always hoped she was his mystery woman. He’d blown off the idea months ago because of the way she signed her emails and the fact that he didn’t know Randi had a foster mother. They had never spoken to each other enough for him to know much about her life in person. But somewhere deep inside, Evan didn’t think the possibility had ever left his heart—even if it didn’t make sense to his conscious mind.

Evan was discovering that not everything was based in reality; some feelings just happened . . .



Dear M.,

Have you ever wanted something so badly that you did something stupid to get it?



“Please be home. Please read my email. Please understand me,” Evan whispered desperately before shooting the email into cyberspace, hoping she’d do all three of those things before he lost his mind.




I’m not checking my email. I’m not checking my email.

Randi patted Lily on the head, consuming a large sandwich as she chanted the mantra in her mind. She’d already done her run for the day, gone through her yoga routine, and then meditated.

It hadn’t helped.

She was still fighting the urge to check her email and see if Evan had written. It was late morning, so she had no doubt he was already gone. She’d nearly broken down in tears as she’d watched the two private jets climb in the sky early this morning during her run. It had been cold and clear when she’d woken up, so she’d decided to forgo the treadmill and do a cold-weather run instead. It had felt good to be outdoors, and she’d been exhilarated until she heard the roar of jet engines flying low overhead, meaning a private jet had taken off from the small airport outside of town. Actually, two planes had taken off within minutes, and Randi knew it was Evan and Micah because Julian didn’t have a jet, and none of the other Sinclairs had plans to go anywhere.

I knew he was leaving. It shouldn’t have hurt that badly. I wonder if he thought about me.

Most of her anger was gone, had disappeared as she thought about all of her conversations with both S. and Evan. The initial shock had worn off once she’d determined his actions had been more careless than intentional.

I’m not checking my email. I’m not checking my email.

Of course, she could get on the computer. She just didn’t have any reason to log in to her email for the Center.