Raina ducked. It hit him right in the chest.
“What the—” He knocked the obstacle away.
“No—” Raina leaped for it, realizing just then what it was. With both arms she drew it in, cradling it to her, pressing her face against the thick, weathered rope.
She looked around her, trying to uncover the place of her memory in this spot so overgrown that vines crept down the ropes and past, tangling with more vines on the ground.
And she smiled. Holding on for dear life.
He stood two feet away, staring at her. “What? What is it?”
She shook her head. “I can’t explain. It’s only that—” She scanned the area again, seeking a landmark. “This is mine. Gran and I made it.”
Liam’s rage drained away as puzzlement replaced it. The expression on her face…
“You were searching for this?” It was a swing the forest had entwined in a death grip, battered and buried, forgotten for how many years? “You risked catching your death of cold over an old swing?”
The wonder and hope disappeared behind embarrassment, and Liam wanted to cut out his tongue. “I’m sorry. It’s important to you, isn’t it?”
She chanced one glance at him, then down. She didn’t speak, but her whole frame hunched in on itself. She gathered the swing closer as if for protection.
Liam felt shame, enough to mask the sheer misery of wet boots and soaked jeans. He thought about leaving her alone, but honest worry over her wouldn’t let him. She was shivering with the cold now.
But he had to give her something. “There’s this spring that my brother has on his land. It’s special to him, and you can feel it when you’re there, how it sort of soothes you. Calms you.” He swiped at his hair to stem the water pouring down his face. “I always envied him, having that private spot.”
Her eyes cut to his, then aside. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t speak.
Finally she did. “My mother didn’t like to stay in one town long. I lived in so many different apartments I lost track. Gran’s cabin was my only home. Sometimes my mother would take off for months and leave me here. Gran said I needed my own special place, so…” Her voice died away.
Then she looked up. “I climbed that branch and tied the ropes myself because Gran couldn’t.”
Liam followed her gaze. “How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“Pretty terrifying climb for a nine-year-old.”
Her eyes were bleak. Haunted. “This was my safe place. Nothing could scare me here.”
He wanted to ask her what she’d had to fear, but her teeth had started to chatter. “Think we can find our way back?” He kept his tone light.
A faint smile played about her lips. “Maybe.” Then she turned sad again. “I never thought I’d lose my way to this clearing.”
“We could come back when the rain stops.” He saw her stiffen. “You could, I mean.”
Her grateful glance touched something inside him. “You’re soaked. I’m sorry. You didn’t have to come searching for me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I did.” And held out a hand. “Wish I’d left bread crumbs, though.”
Tiny sparks of mischief danced in her eyes. “The birds would have gotten them if the vines hadn’t covered them up.” Slowly, almost stutter-step, she let her hand clasp his.
Liam felt the shock of it. One honest touch.
As he drew her forward, he kept a careful distance and tried to ignore how he could see the rounding of her breasts, the pucker of her nipples, the slim line of waist curving into hip. He’d been with so many women who were tucked and tanned, shaped by artifice where Nature hadn’t granted Her bounty, yet this woman’s nearly boyish body stirred him in a way he hadn’t been in years. If ever.
And it wasn’t simple lust. Something about her was so vulnerable. Exposed. She made him want to cradle her close and promise that nothing would ever hurt her again.
How badly he wanted to do it shook the hell out of him.
But she stood like a doe in the forest, poised to run. Scenting danger.
He understood now that she was fragile, not brittle. Worn, but not hard. He had a sense that he could tip the balance, push her over the edge to which she was barely clinging.
He wanted to encircle those bowed shoulders. Bring a smile to the sad eyes. Make her laugh, help her stand proud.
For now, though, he carefully kept himself apart from her, gesturing before him in a sweeping bow. “After you, madam.”
The tiny quirk of her lips and the relief in her frame were his reward.
With time, they found their way back. Liam’s sense of direction helped, honed by years of hunting and fishing with his father, exploring with his brothers, but it was Raina’s eyes that spotted trees she remembered climbing, gullies she knew to cross.
The longer they walked, the more he saw in her a sense of belonging lacking in his daily life. L.A. was where he worked, but it would never be home, he realized. He knew many people there but had few true friends. It was the way of that world—temporary alliances, brief affairs, constant seeking for advantage. A career was a short-lived thing for most actors—those who endured were a rare lot.
It wore on you, the constant slipping in and out of skins. Someone without the firm grounding Liam’s family had given him would lose any sense of a center, any compass that pointed to true north.
That was why he made a point of going home as often as possible, instead of taking the exotic vacations others did between films. He’d tried to treat his whole family to the luxuries he could now afford; all but a few they’d politely—but firmly—refused. Dane was always wandering somewhere, shooting roll after roll of the film that had established him as a real up-and-coming adventure photographer. Alex was too busy chasing down criminals and making the world safe. Jilly loved baubles and was the easiest to pamper, but the thing Rafael had needed most—his health—had been a struggle only he could fight. All Liam’s wealth could not buy his big brother an unscarred body or a soul at peace.
So he did what he could, though it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. His mother had protested over the Christmas gift of perfectly matched pearls with the sapphire clasp echoing her eyes, but in the end, Liam had prevailed. His dad steadfastly declined to let Liam do more than buy the cigars Celeste pretended she didn’t know he smoked. Everything else, he insisted on Liam keeping for a rainy day.
His family just wanted Liam’s happiness. Plenty of others would be only too glad to relieve Liam of any excess funds, but he was no man’s sucker. He’d discovered a real knack for investing money and getting good returns, so as a result, he donated a lot to charity but still had a nice nest egg that would see him through quite a few years. Perhaps not the luxuries he had now, but plenty for what most people would consider a good life.
He could give the woman ahead of him, swaying on her feet, all she required to bring electricity and running water to this godforsaken place. He had the wherewithal to make sure she survived this winter in grand style.
But his gut told him more strongly than ever that it would be a mistake, not a mercy, that it would weaken her in some essential manner, that she would resent him, not thank him—
If only he understood why.
What made her so desperate? What haunted her eyes?
He had no right to ask her, not when he was lying to her with every breath.
Just then, she stumbled. Liam leaped to stop her fall, grasping her around the waist and hauling her against him in one swift move.
Wet and chilled, her body should have felt clammy and uncomfortable.
Instead, it felt good. Right.
For a second, she relaxed against him, her head bowed. Liam studied the part in her dark hair, the delicate pale skin. Slowly, he slid his hand beneath her chin and urged her face up. Lowered his mouth toward hers.
Blue eyes swirled with confusion, with longing and soft regret. Her lips parted slightly. “No,” she barely whispered.
He
lifted his head but felt her shiver and enfolded her nearer, rubbing her back in a circle to comfort. “It’s okay,” he soothed.
Silent and tender, the moment spun out. Raina stood in his embrace, trembling, her fingers digging into her own arms.
Then cautiously, her fingers loosened. Grazed his chest.
Liam’s body contracted painfully, his heart squeezed in an unfamiliar ache. He barely dared to breathe, waiting to see what she’d do.
She quivered with a wire-tight tension, her head bowed. Liam had never before experienced this sense of standing at a critical juncture, of just how intimate and fearful desire could be.
Her head rose, and the impulse to apologize was on the tip of his tongue. To move her, carefully and slowly as one would handle an injured animal, away from him. Toward safety.
To a man accustomed to the adoration of women, finding himself suddenly a danger was a shock, but he had the unmistakable sense that any wrong move could harm her beyond healing—
But he had no idea why. Or how she had come to such a crossroads, this woman who had never encouraged him, had done everything in her power to force him away.
Liam was still trying to find his footing through the treacherous ground of her vulnerability when suddenly, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his cheek.
Had he touched a live wire, the shock could have been no greater. Something about that mouth, pressed to his skin so chastely, shook him as no woman’s kiss had before. He disciplined himself, by an act of will greater than he’d demonstrated in his life, to remain still, to let her take the lead.
When what he wanted, against all wisdom, was to devour.
God. Liam loved women, yes, but he’d never been much of a romantic; yet somehow this woman’s artless, terrified touch made him want to treat her like delicate crystal, surround her with flowers and silk and soft music. Lifted the idea of lovemaking to a new level.
One that scared him half to death.
Her breath drifted warm across his skin as a second kiss neared the corner of his mouth.
He waited…peered down at lacy dark lashes against cheeks hectic with scarlet. Agonizing seconds passed as he prayed for a glimpse of blue eyes, a clue—any clue—to what she was feeling. What she would do.
Closer she leaned, steadying for balance against his chest, her mouth just over his heart—
With a cry and a look of utter horror, she tore herself out of his arms and ran. Up the steps he’d repaired, across the porch he’d made safe to slam the door behind her with a force that shook the whole house.
And Liam was left standing, needing to cool down a body so overheated he wanted to strip to the skin in the cold rain, doubting even that would work.
He wondered what the hell to do with a woman who stirred his sympathies and admiration, who was nothing like his usual taste in women but somehow could still set him on fire—
And who ran from him every chance she got.
Raina stood inside the cabin, teeth chattering from fear as much as the chill. Never had she thought about responding like that to a man. She liked nothing about the sexual act; for her there had been no joy in it.
Frank Howard had capitalized on a girl’s deep need for affection; as she’d settled in to the humdrum existence of a job at the furniture factory, just like every other young woman her age who couldn’t get away, she’d caught Frank’s attention. Been the object of his single-minded pursuit, so flattering to someone who saw a dead-end road ahead, who knew that her only means of dodging her mother’s fate would be the safety of these mountains, where nothing ever changed. She would grow old before her time, would bear too many children with not enough money to feed them.
Wild and bold, Frank had dizzied her, excited her by his drive to possess her that last crazy summer when she’d realized that she would never escape the blood that ran within her, never scale to heights of glory. Never win.
And in had walked Frank, whispering promises of Atlanta, maybe New York City and big cars and bigger houses—
She’d fallen like the proverbial ton of bricks. For three months, he’d blinded her with promises she understood now he’d never had a prayer of keeping. He’d wanted her body and had been rough in its handling, but she’d have done anything to please him.
It had required a pregnancy scare to wake her up. To set her straight, clear her vision to the cruelty behind the kisses, the obsession behind the smiles. She’d applied for a job in the office to get away from Frank, who’d slashed her tires and threatened worse.
And then she’d caught the boss’s eye. The married boss, Ben Chambers, twenty years her senior, had come to her rescue and scared Frank away, only to decide that he wanted her himself. He’d bought a piece of clay he’d planned to mold into a trophy wife.
She hadn’t understood that at first, of course; she’d seen only the mature man of resources who’d spotted her in his furniture factory and offered to take her away from the life she abhorred.
She’d still had fire then. Still had hope. But Ben hadn’t wanted that fire once he’d claimed her; passion was for a mistress. A wife must be cool and above reproach. He’d moved her first to Charlotte, then an exclusive section of Baltimore, surrounding her with friends of his choosing, most of them much older than Raina and worlds apart in experience. Systematically, he’d shaped and honed her, subtle distaste here, sharper dismay there, until she’d become the woman of her dreams. Refined and cultivated, the perfect hostess, the wife in pearls and silk, as far from the seedy apartments and constant moves to dodge debts as it was possible to achieve.
And in the process, a young girl became an old woman overnight. Was it any wonder that her womb had proven unfit until Elise? Ben had wanted the image, not the messy reality of what Raina could only guess uninhibited sex might be. His version was all about silence and separate beds, about furtive trips in the night and lifted hems, about taking his own pleasure in grim silence on a body that had dried to dust.
With each miscarriage, he only became more intent, until Raina would have done almost anything to escape.
And did. The little pills her doctor prescribed to keep her calm became her best friends. Her only friends.
Until, at last, Elise. Somehow, she knew instantly that this one was different, that this would be the one she would carry to term. She threw away the little pills, did everything right, turned her focus on nurturing the life forming inside her. It was the happiest period of her existence. Colors were brighter, the air crisp, the sun warm with promise. Even Ben had responded to the glow that seemed to surround her.
She should have seen the warning signs when the doctor discovered she would have a girl instead of the son and heir Ben wanted. Day by day he withdrew from her, more caustic than ever, more demanding.
But she floated inside a dream, her only reality this baby she would love forever and who would love her. She performed her wifely role as expected—thanking the fates that her body did not attract him and she was thus spared that part. But through all of it, she was half-there, only concerned with getting done so that she could go back to playing music for her baby, stroking the skin that separated them, talking to her little girl for hours.
At the hospital, the nurses clucked about the father who showed up only once, but Raina was so enchanted by her little girl, so wrapped up in their shared world, that she paid no notice.
For five months, five glorious months, Raina was her strongest self, helplessly in love, thinking it would last forever.
But on that day when she checked on her baby, whose nap was taking so long, and discovered—
Raina dug her nails into her palms. So many days, so many endless, lost hours since that moment when everything good in her life had stopped. So many dark moments she could not bear to remember.
Little pills, more and more of them, to help her forget. To go on with a life that seemed pointless.
Her sterile marriage ended at the moment that Elise ceased to breathe, though the burial end
ured for many months until Ben could no longer disguise her spiral into self-destruction.
And the next time a man touched her, it was to demand payment for the drugs she needed, the surcease without which she could not live anymore.
Raina whirled away from the cabin door, shivery and hot and heartsick. The man on the other side of it was more dangerous than she could have imagined. His kindness was a lure, his body a threat.
For the first time since a young girl had succumbed to the man whom she thought would be her savior, Raina wanted to yield, wanted to seek the safe harbor she somehow knew Hal could be.
That seeking could be the beginning step down the path her mother had worn so deep. There were no safe harbors. There was no peace, not yet. But someday, if she remained strong and endured, if she made her stake in this place, there might be.
Raina would create her own refuge from now on.
She opened the door to tell Hal he had to leave today. Right now.
But when she peered through the pouring rain—
He was nowhere in sight.
Liam stood inside the barn, dodging leaks. Miserable in wet, chafing jeans, shivering against the wind sailing through the myriad cracks in the rotten wood.
His clothes were inside that cabin. At the moment, all he wanted to do was retrieve them, change and get the hell out of Dodge.
But to do that, he’d have to encounter that woman. The one who’d somehow managed to make a man adored by millions of women feel as if he’d suddenly become Attila the Hun.
Damn it, she’d responded to him. He was tired of dealing with a woman more skittish than any mare he’d ever tried to tame. He’d come on this drive to find peace, not to have life turn more complicated. The woman was trouble. Troubled. Big T. Don’t go there. Run like hell in the opposite direction.
His fingers clenched in memory of the feel of her, mostly angles with only the occasional touch of soft, sweet flesh.
He could have nearly any woman he wanted at the crook of a finger. Recognizing how often women threw themselves at him wasn’t ego. He had a whole staff to process fan mail that came complete with silk panties and G-strings.
Texas Heartthrob Page 7
