by Jill Shalvis
Her sister smiled easily, looking not even a little annoyed. Physically she hadn’t changed much in the years since Jenna had last seen her. She was still beautiful. Her hair was still that light blond that Jenna’s had been as a child, and curled down to her shoulders. She was curvy and lush where Jenna was... not, and that age-old green monster reared its head, surprising Jenna.
But for the first time, it was a nice envious feeling, not a stomach-eating one, and it made her feel good. Or it would have if she hadn’t spilled her tea like a clumsy oaf.
“Great tea, isn’t it?” Kristen asked.
“Sorry about the drop here. I—”
“It doesn’t matter, Jenna.” But Kristen looked as if something did matter, and Jenna felt like a stupid clumsy child.
They stared at each other awkwardly.
Kristen inhaled sharply, looked at a point somewhere over Jenna’s head and said, “I just need to come out with it. We can’t go on until I tell you.”
Not sure she wanted to hear, Jenna lifted her chin and prepared to be kicked out.
“I think you should know that I sued Stone for custody of your daughter.”
“What?”
Kristen smiled faintly and rubbed her temples. “It was years ago, right after...Mom died. You’d been gone only a short time and I’d just turned twenty-one. I... God, I missed you, Jenna. And I wanted to make sure Sara was taken care of. At that point she was all I had left.”
“But...” Floored, Jenna just stared at Kristen, trying to imagine how her sister had felt. And, good God, Stone. How had he felt about this final betrayal? “What happened?” she asked hoarsely.
“Stone fought me tooth and nail.” Kristen gave a ghost of a smile, obviously still nervous revealing what she had done. “He won of course. And in a way I did, too.” She smiled at a very stunned Jenna. “I realized through the course of the proceedings how much Stone loved that child, which had been my greatest fear. Sara was, still is, I’m sure, the most important thing in his life. Knowing that, seeing it firsthand, well...I’d changed my mind about wanting to take her away from him long before the verdict came in.”
Jenna had so many emotions swimming through her, she could hardly think. “God, Kristen.”
“There’s more.” Kristen hesitated, and Jenna saw to her amazement that her sure confident sister was fighting tears. “Afterward, Stone offered me visits of Sara whenever I wanted them.” Stricken with the memory, Kristen shoved her hair back and let out a watery sigh. “Can you believe it? I had tried to destroy him more than he’d already been destroyed, and he was that generous.”
“Why didn’t you stay in touch?”
“I couldn’t,” Kristen whispered, shaking her head. “After what I had tried to pull, I was so ashamed. And he had his family...”
“No, he didn’t” Jenna moaned and covered her face. “They disowned him when they found out I was pregnant. He’s been alone with her all this time. I can’t believe how long I stayed away. I regret that so much, it’s all I can think about. Oh, Kristen... the things I’ve done.”
“We’ve done,” Kristen corrected her, then spoke firmly. “And it’s not too late for you. You could go to him—”
Jenna laughed, a high hysterical laugh that she had to cover her mouth to stop. “You’re not the only one with a confession to make.”
She told Kristen of what she’d done, how she’d come back to town and was now... Cindy Beatty.
“You have to tell him the truth,” Kristen insisted.
“How exactly do you suggest I do that?” Jenna asked desperately. “I’ve lied by omission. We’ve become friends. Friends, Kristen, and oh, my God, that means so much to me, I’m tempted to lie forever.”
“You can’t.”
“I know, I know. I can’t because I want Sara to know the truth. I want her in my life. But how do I tell him I’ve deceived him yet again? And now, knowing your past and his, he’ll think it’s just another attempt to get Sara away from him.”
Kristen’s shoulders sagged. Both women slumped, defeated.
Jenna took another sip of tea and spilled another drop on the pretty table. She jerked up her napkin, but it seemed too pretty to use. Uncertain, her hand hovered over the table.
“Jenna,” her sister said, laughing, “it’s a table, for God’s sake. It’s meant for spills. So is that napkin you’re staring at in horror.” She sobered as she regarded a very nervous Jenna. “What’s the matter? I mean, I realize we haven’t seen each other in forever, but you’re so...jumpy. Like you’re just waiting for me to get upset over something.”
“I...” Jenna broke off with a sigh, biting back her apology. She felt as though she was always apologizing for something, and it had to stop.
Didn’t it?
She scrubbed at the spot on the table as if her life depended on it.
Kristen laid a hand on hers, stilling the movement.
“I love the way you look,” Kristen said gently when Jenna didn’t say anything. “Is that it, honey? Are you upset about that? You’re beautiful, now more than ever.”
“I was never beautiful.” But she was now and she knew it. Her mirror told her it was true. But it seemed strange to be so suddenly pretty. “And I have scars.”
“They’re nothing, considering what you’ve been through, and besides, they’re hardly noticeable the way you put your makeup on.”
“It’s not the way I look.” Though Jenna hadn’t gotten quite used to seeing herself. She still gave a start whenever she saw her reflection in the mirror.
“What then?”
“You’re different,” Jenna said in a low voice, avoiding her sister’s gaze. “Friendlier, which is really nice,” she hurried on to say, but it was too late.
Kristen stiffened, then slowly straightened, dropping her hand to her lap. “I see what it is,” she said quietly. “You’re thinking about how it used to be, how we never got along because I was always trying...”
“To make me a better person,” Jenna said urgently, meaning it. “I see it now—”
“No, you don’t. You can’t understand because I never told you.” Kristen sighed heavily. “I used to be so hard on you, hoping Mom would let up if...”
“If I was more like you?”
“Maybe you’re not the only one who has changed,” Kristen said softly. “Maybe I’ve learned to accept people for who they are.”
“You were trying to help.” Wonder filled Jenna as she mulled this over. “You never hated me—you were trying to protect me.” A warm feeling prevailed, and it felt good, so very good, to let go of the past. “I do understand.”
“Do you?” Kristen’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you know how much I loved you, still love you, how I always wished I could make you believe it?” She reached across the table, grasped Jenna’s hands and held tight. “How desperately afraid I was for you, especially when I couldn’t reach through that angry barrier to get to the real Jenna?” She drew a ragged breath and blinked her tears away. “I wanted my sister, Jenna, and I couldn’t get her. I had to stand around and watch you try to destroy yourself, and it killed me.”
“I’m sor—”
“Do you think I don’t know how Mom treated you? How she loved me best? God! I hated that. I still don’t understand it, but I never meant for it to be that way. When I realized I couldn’t change you, I used to do everything I could to make her hate me so she’d like you more, but nothing worked. Nothing. And by the time we were old enough to talk about it, you were gone from me.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Kristen practically shouted, rising from her chair and pulling Jenna from hers. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you back.” She placed a hand to her chest as if she ached. “I want you back in my life, because you never left my heart.”
Jenna swallowed hard, but the tears came, anyway. Before she could let out the muffled sob, Kristen had her in her arms.
“It’ll work out,” Kri
sten promised, rocking them both. “It’ll all work out.”
“How?”
“With faith.”
Jenna wanted to believe that. Oh, how she wanted to. “I don’t have much of that,” she admitted.
“It’s okay. I have enough for both of us.”
Their hug tightened and it felt so good, so right. Jenna closed her eyes and held on for all she was worth.
“I love you, Jenna,” Kristen whispered fiercely. “I love you so much.”
It was the first time in far too many years Jenna had heard those words. She’d never said them out loud before and wasn’t sure she could now, but she continued to hold on, soaking up all the love she could get.
Stone squared his shoulders, gritted his teeth and came shockingly close to putting his fist through the wall of his office. “I realize she doesn’t want to take any calls right now.” He refrained from adding an unflattering oath to the man claiming to be his parent’s butler. “But she might change her mind.”
“I doubt it, sir.”
And just who the hell still had a butler in the 1990s? Stone wondered.
“She’s in mourning, sir.”
Mourning. He’d discovered he was, too, even for a brother who’d written him out of his life with an ease that still disturbed Stone.
It didn’t stop the grief any. “Just tell her it’s her son,” Stone suggested tightly, eyeing the clock and feeling thankful he still had three hours before Sara got home from school.
God help him, he needed a break from the child who’d had nonstop questions flowing from her mouth since the day before, when he’d learned about Richard.
Why is he dead, she’d asked. Why didn’t he ever want to talk to you when you called? Why didn’t he answer your letters?
And why are you crying, Daddy?
Yeah, he needed a break. Sinking onto the stool in front of the counter, he rested his head in one hand. His other hand still gripped the phone.
“Who is this?” that horrible flat voice questioned.
“I told you,” he replied carefully. “Her son.”
“Her son has passed on.”
“Her other son,” Stone grated. “I’m sure she’ll remember.” Was he sure? Seemed she hadn’t remembered his past ten birthdays. The past ten Christmases. Sara’s past nine birthdays.
Dammit, he was furious all over again, at himself and his parents.
For Sara, he reminded himself, repeating it like a mantra. This is for Sara, so swallow the pride and just do it.
“Please.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “Please tell her Stone is on the line. Stone Cameron.”
While silence filled the air, Stone set his hot forehead down on the cool counter.
He was an idiot. An idiot who loved his daughter beyond reason, enough to try to give her the family she’d always wanted.
“I’m sorry, sir,” came that damn voice.
The outer door, the one to his shop, opened. A minute later his office door opened behind him, and before it shut again, he caught that light sexy scent he would forever equate with one woman.
Cindy.
From behind, she lightly touched him, set her hand on his shoulder, and just that simply, some of his burden lifted. He couldn’t explain it any better than that, even to himself, but he wouldn’t hide from it.
“What do you mean, you’re sorry?” Stone said into the phone. He didn’t turn to face Cindy, but reached up and grabbed her hand.
She held on and squeezed. Then stepped closer so that he could feel the heat of her body against his back. It comforted him as little else could have.
“Mrs. Cameron refuses to take the call,” the butler said. “You’re not to call here again.”
Betrayal slashed through him, chilling him. Hurt had a taste, he discovered. Bitter as hell.
“Did you hear me?” asked the butler, his voice a bit louder. “Please do not call here again.”
Behind Stone, Cindy stiffened, her anger and shock flowing through her to him as she clearly heard the words through the receiver.
For some reason, that gave Stone strength. It’d been a long time since he’d felt someone on his side. For years he’d been alone in this, alone against the world in his fight to survive with Sara.
“She’s unbelievable,” Stone muttered beneath his breath. “Unbelievable.”
“Goodbye, sir.”
“The funeral,” Stone said quickly before he was hung up on. “When is the—” At the disconnecting click, he shook his head, then slowly set the phone down.
Cindy held him close, and he was enveloped by her as well as her welcome compassion.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “Just like I promised you I would be. Is...it enough?”
“More than enough,” he whispered back, and turning, he wrapped her slight body in his arms.
Chapter 6
He wasn’t ever going to let go, Stone thought as Cindy pressed close to him. Desperate, a little needy, he held her tighter, closing his eyes in relief when she clung to him, just as needy.
“Let me be here for you, Stone.”
A buzzing in his head nearly drowned out her words.
Richard was gone, truly gone.
His mother refused to acknowledge her only living son.
Sara and her precious childhood threatened because he hadn’t provided properly for her future.
So much—his mind couldn’t take it all in. And then there was this warm, caring woman looking at him as if he were her entire world. As if she could make him forget everything bad. As if she alone could make his life perfect.
How to resist that?
“You’re so strong all the time.” Her dark solemn eyes blinked at him. Cupping his face, she met his gaze. “talking care of everyone but yourself.”
“I’m okay.” But he’d started to shake with the effort to remain in control.
She continued to touch him, softly, tenderly—and it was so damn irresistible. “Let me do it for once,” she whispered. “Let me be the strong one for you. You deserve that, Stone. Just let go.”
His heart beat so hard and fast that it almost hurt. His throat was tight, but he managed a strangled “I’m okay.”
It was a lie, a damn lie, and she saw right through it.
“No,” she murmured. “You’re hurting, and I can’t bear to see it.” She met his gaze, hers strong and sure and confident in a way he’d never seen before. “Let me give you this.” She ran her hands over his chest, a light tentative touch that inflamed him so his hurt turned into something else. “Let me...”
She could have no idea how just the thought of making love to her, here, now, had his blood humming. Yet it wasn’t his usual style, using sex to forget the harsh reality of his world. And he refused to use her that way. “I don’t—”
Her fingers brushed his mouth, holding his words in as she shook her head slightly. “Let me.”
And there, in his daze of grief and hunger, he saw it, the flicker of hesitation, the brief flash of emotion that told him she wasn’t nearly as sure and brave as she’d like to be, but was trying her damnedest to hide it from him.
Slipping his hands beneath her short curtain of hair, he cupped her jaw and drew her mouth to his, needing the contact, desperate for the compassion and sensitivity and hope he knew he would find in her arms.
He felt her slide her hand beneath one of his, so that it was between his skin and hers. He wondered, then realized... she was protecting the webbed line of scar tissue from his touch.
“Does it hurt?” he asked huskily, tenderness flooding him.
She dipped her head. “No.”
He could feel the heat in her skin and knew she felt humiliated “You’re lovely, Cindy. Don’t hide from me.”
“It’s ugly to the touch.”
“No.” Gently he pulled her hand away and kissed the hot skin, inching little love bites along the nearly undetectable web of scars, intending nothing but to ease her discomfort. Just holding her eased so much for
him. Reality faded a bit, all hurt faded, as he held this wonderful, giving woman.
At first she remained rigid in his arms. But he didn’t give up; he simply pulled her onto his lap and rained a shower of kisses over her jaw and neck, gradually coaxing the tension loose from both of them as he continued to taste her skin before shifting back to her mouth.
Her parted lips responded warmly, eagerly seeking his. With a low sound of consent and need, she pressed close, arching her body against him, fueling the urgency.
Her fingers curled in his shirt, digging into the muscles of his chest, as though she needed to touch him as desperately as he needed to touch her. That need suddenly swallowed them both, making them moan with it as it exploded around them. There was no going back. They couldn’t, not when he couldn’t imagine taking his next breath without her.
He rose off the stool, claiming her mouth with a frantic, almost violent hunger. With a soft little moan, she melted to him, chest to chest, hips to hips, her arms locked around his neck.
“I need you,” he whispered, feeling battered and bruised. “So much—”
“I need you, too,” she whispered, yanking at his shirt. He helped her, pulling it impatiently over his head. “I always have—Oh, my goodness!” Abruptly that fog of need and hunger disappeared from her eyes. “Your stomach.”
“You always have?” he repeated, wondering at her words. “What do you mean, you’ve always wanted me?”
Stricken, she stared at him, and whether she purposely avoided the question or was just horrified at his injuries, he didn’t know. “I—Nothing. Stone, look at you!”
He knew what it looked like—a huge, swirling, black and green and yellow and purple bruise that the span of her two hands, which she gently plastered against him, barely covered. “Oh, Stone.” Her fingers were so soft and enticing on his bare skin that he could hardly stand it. “From the saw yesterday?”
“Yeah.” Sucking in his breath did nothing to ease the tension that had gripped him from just having her hands on him. It’d been a long time for him, he decided, but still, he couldn’t remember ever getting so hot so fast. What was it about her that so destroyed his carefully placed defenses? Was she real? Would she be his, stay his?
