By Candlelight

by Janelle Taylor

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking your shoe off.”

  “I’ll never get it back on! It’ll swell. Maybe I should take it off later, when I’m back at my—my room.”

  “Where’re you staying?”

  “Umm…” Her mind went blank. “That place—one of them—by the turnaround.”

  Jake threw her a knowing look. “You don’t have a place to stay yet, do you?”

  His mind-reading abilities might have impressed her if she hadn’t realized how completely obvious she was. Good Lord, she might as well display a neon sign! She was no good at deception, at all.

  Were her feelings as obvious? She prayed they weren’t.

  And what are those feelings, my girl? she asked herself.

  Jake lifted her foot, and Kate opened her mouth to protest. He looked up, silently asking permission. She clamped her mouth shut. Why did she feel his touch as if it were burning right through her sneaker? It wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t care! He had hurt her so badly, and after all these years it shouldn’t matter anymore!

  Carefully, he eased her sneaker from her ankle. Even so, Kate had to suck in a sharp breath at the pain.

  “You okay?” Jake asked, giving her a quick look.

  She nodded. Her foot throbbed. Biting into her lower lip, Kate ignored both her ankle’s hard ache and Jake’s surprisingly gentle touch. Grabbing a moss green throw pillow, Kate clenched her fists into its soft velveteen folds, fighting every feeling coursing through her.

  When he slipped off her sock, Kate dared a glance at her foot. Swelling had already submerged her ankle bone. Discoloration would not be far behind.

  “You really did it in,” Jake said with a hint of admiration. “I haven’t seen that nasty of a sprain since that last time, in high school.”

  “High school,” Kate breathed out.

  “Mmmmm…”

  Clearly he didn’t want to talk about that time any more than she did. Gently Kate moved her toes, sending needles of pain up the side of her foot.

  At her unconscious moan, Jake said, “You should see a doctor.”

  “No, it’s fine. All a doctor will do is wrap it up, tell me to keep off it and suggest I be more careful next time.”

  Her leg was stretched out straight; Jake still holding her heel. Kate longed to yank her foot out of his contact but wasn’t quite sure how to do it without looking like a total ingrate.

  It felt like an eternity passed before he pulled the pillow from Kate’s clutching fingers and settled her foot against its soft velveteen fabric, balancing both pillow and heel on the coffee table. Then he stood back, staring down at her foot. Kate did the same.

  Time ticked by…

  It seemed predestined, she thought ironically. She had torn out of town to escape thoughts of him, then had chosen the beach—Seaside—the site of some of their most tender moments. It was as if she had planned it, at some level. Running toward him instead of running away.

  “Want a cup of tea?” he suggested as he moved to the kitchen.

  “Maybe the phone book?” Kate countered. “So I can call a motel?”

  “You could stay here,” he pointed out the obvious.

  She had expected it. Had wanted it, at some level. But it was impossible. “Oh, sure,” Kate snorted, but her heart began a steady, heavy beat way out of proportion to his casual invitation.

  “I promise I won’t attack you,” he said dryly.

  Kate’s head whipped around in surprise, but he was out of sight. She wasn’t quite sure how to take that comment. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay here with you,” she muttered.

  “What?” he called from the kitchen.

  “Nothing.”

  “You can have one of the bedrooms downstairs,” he yelled to her, opening and closing cupboards somewhere out of her line of vision.

  “I’d rather go somewhere else,” Kate responded loudly, wondering if he could hear her. Everything felt like such an effort. The truth was, she would love to curl up in bed and have someone bring her a cup of tea.

  Someone other than Jake.

  She was still sitting with her foot propped up when Jake returned with the hot mug. Kate gratefully accepted it and willed herself to relax when he chose the chair adjacent to the couch to sit on. He was as tense as she was, however; he was perched on the edge of his chair, his hands gripped onto his knees.

  “I guess I will need some help getting to the motel,” she admitted. “And my car’s parked downtown.”

  “Give me the keys and I’ll bring it here.”

  “Ohhhh…,” She couldn’t make these decisions.

  “You can’t just leave it in town.”

  “Jake, I don’t know,” she moaned, too emotionally weak to think clearly.

  “Just stay here,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing on earth.

  For an answer Kate reluctantly dug into her coat pocket and produced her set of keys. Jake’s warm fingers took them from her. He asked for directions to the Mustang, then headed for the door, looking unfairly sexy and masculine as he added with his trademark smile, “I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as he was gone Kate collapsed against the cushions, wishing she were less sensitive to him. Deliciously, she recalled his every touch, then buried her head in the couch and groaned out her frustration, furious with herself.

  Why couldn’t her date with Tom have turned out better? She should have demanded Jillian set up an evening with her friend Michael rather than waiting until next Friday. She needed diversion. She needed a different man in her life. She did not need Jake Talbot!

  Whatever possessed you to stop in front of his house, then?

  With painful self-realization, Kate confirmed what she already knew: she still cared.

  “Damn,” she muttered, her voice muffled in the cushions of the sofa.

  Okay, so what? she reminded herself. So what? A few residual feelings—big deal. It was natural. She hadn’t seen him in over eighteen years, yet there had been a lot of stuff unresolved between them. Just willing it away didn’t work, she reasoned. Maybe confrontation would put things in perspective. Maybe they needed—no, she needed to address the issues that had plagued her since that awful time when she had learned he was engaged to someone else.

  And when do you tell him about April?

  Kate drew an unsteady breath, lifting her head from the couch and feeling like an old, old woman. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

  To the empty room, she muttered, “You are going to hate yourself tomorrow…”

  Jake walked steadily up the promenade to Broadway. A breeze fanned his hot face, and he felt curiously disjointed and out of sync.

  What was it about Katie Tindel that stirred his senses? Whatever it was, it had always been there. Like something beneath his skin. Something that couldn’t be dug out without major surgery.

  She was the last woman on earth for him. The absolute last. She had run away and married a man over twice her age for security. That was a fact. If he, Jake, had stuck around, she would have married him, undoubtedly for the inheritance sure to come his way someday.

  But she had cared about him; he knew that, too. There was only so much faking a person could do. It was just that other motivations were deeper and more important to her, obviously. In the end she had shown her true colors.

  “Eighteen years ago,” he breathed in disgust. Why did he keep rehashing it all as if it were yesterday?

  Her car was parked a couple of blocks off Broadway. Jake found it without really trying. Unlocking the door, he slid behind the wheel, pushing back the seat to accommodate his longer legs.

  Closing the door, he felt enveloped by her scent. His mind cast back to that juvenile time they had first made love after their “marriage.” He had believed in her so much!

  The convertible purred to life, and Jake maneuvered through the late evening throngs down the road that ran parallel to the prom until he found
his driveway. He parked the midnight blue Mustang behind his Bronco, suffering a strange kind of déjà vu, though they had never driven their own cars to the beach before.

  Maybe it wasn’t déjà vu, he decided, shrugging as if to physically throw off the feeling. Maybe it was a glimpse into “what might have been.” Either way, he didn’t like it.

  With purposeful strides he walked through the back door into the kitchen, stopping short at the archway to the living room. Kate lay on the couch, her eyes closed, her breathing deep and even as if she had collapsed into a deep sleep.

  For long moments Jake waited in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the jamb. She was beautiful, he thought dispassionately, not wanting to feel a thing. Time had been more than kind to her. She had blossomed. Grown into a woman twice as attractive as her naive younger self.

  Maybe it came from leading an uncomplicated life, he thought wryly. His own had certainly taken a few twists and turns he hadn’t expected or wanted.

  He poured himself a cup of tepid tea from the pot and zapped it in the microwave. Quietly he walked into the living room and stretched out in the adjacent chair, resting his cup on the overstuffed arms.

  Kate lay with her head on another of the moss green pillows, a change from his mother’s fussy decor. Her lashes caressed her cheek. One hand was tucked beneath her chin, and when she sighed her breasts moved beneath the dark blue turtleneck sweater. She had tossed her jacket over the back of the couch, and he realized how small she was.

  One more thing he had forgotten.

  Frowning, he glanced at the empty fireplace. It was too warm for a fire, so instead he struck a match to the wicks of two long, tapered white candles resting on the mantel. He half expected a musk and vanilla scent, then shook himself out of his reverie.

  That, too, was the past.

  When he glanced back, Kate’s eyes were open. She looked startled.

  “You fell asleep,” he said unnecessarily.

  “Did you—already get my car?”

  “It’s out back, parked behind mine.”

  “Oh, brother.” She sat up, swiping at blond-streaked strands that had tangled over her eyes.

  Unwillingly, Jake felt a strong, male attraction to the sight of her. Clamping his jaw, he glanced away, toward the flickering candles.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said, “or I really will spend the night.”

  “I thought you’d already decided to!”

  “I know, but, well, I can’t.” She cleared her throat, inhaled a deep breath, expelled it and added, “You know why.”

  Her candor surprised him. “I do?”

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  “I’m not,” Jake admitted honestly. “I’m just, not quite sure what you mean.”

  “Take a wild guess.”

  She was dead serious. Her amber eyes stared at him with challenge. Jake wasn’t used to being put on the spot so thoroughly, and he didn’t like it one bit. “You mean because we were once lovers?” he asked carefully.

  Kate looked away, as if he had hurt her horrifically. “It was a whole lot more than that to me. Then,” she added meaningfully. “Once upon a time.”

  “We were kids.”

  “We were infants,” she corrected angrily. Was her anger directed at him or herself? He couldn’t tell.

  “We were old enough to know better,” he replied softly. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have this conversation. He wasn’t sure he would ever be.

  “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “But that’s why I can’t stay.”

  “It shouldn’t matter after this long,” Jake said, thinking aloud.

  Her cheeks pinkened. “You’re so right,” she muttered.

  “Then, why don’t you make it easy on both of us and spend the night. I promise I won’t do anything to make you—uncomfortable.”

  “Are you kidding?” Kate’s lips quivered. Jake was mesmerized by how they looked. An insistent little thrum started somewhere inside him, the harbinger of sexual desire. Irritated, he tightened his own lips to dampen the sensation, unconsciously hardening his expression.

  Kate didn’t miss the change. One moment he was almost approachable, scarily close to the Jake Talbot she remembered, endearingly boyish. The next he looked like an angry stranger, and that, she decided, was what he was.

  “I’m already uncomfortable,” she admitted with a little catch in her voice.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s just that there’s too much history, y’know?” she struggled. “I feel like I’m in a dream.”

  “A nightmare?”

  “I wasn’t going to say that,” Kate said, her voice thready.

  “Why does it matter so much?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered.

  She could scarcely keep her eyes on him. His profile was so familiar. It made her throat ache. She was torn between the desire to scream out all the hurt and anger that had been her companion all these years, and to reach out her arms to him and drag him close. Some crazy part of herself wanted to draw her fingertip down the lines of discontentment that bracketed his mouth, to erase the unhappiness she witnessed. Here was Jake Talbot, a man of privilege if she had ever met one, yet he seemed miserable and a bit lost.

  Kate shook herself awake. Lost? Was she out of her mind? She couldn’t think of another person on the planet more goal-oriented than Jake these days.

  She was letting nostalgia rule her, and it was downrigh dangerous.

  “I don’t want to make a federal case out of it,” Jake said. “If you want to stay, you’re welcome. We can figure out what to do about your ankle tomorrow. For tonight, I’m dead tired and you look done in.” His gray-blue eyes regarded her seriously.

  She nodded. She felt done in.

  He waited an extra beat, then asked in a voice that said this was the final time, “So, what do you want to do?”

  Chapter Ten

  Kate lay beneath the fluffy cream comforter on the guest bed and stared through lacy window curtains to an ink black night. Her ankle was a dull ache that kept her fitful and awake. The fact that she had buckled under and stayed at Jake’s house was another factor to her sleeplessness. She should have said no. She should have insisted on a motel room.

  But, as they say, it was no use crying over spilt milk, even though it felt as if there were a lake of the stuff on the ground!

  Jake had brought her bag in from the car, and she had changed in darkness to her sensible cotton pajamas. Still, she felt naked and exposed, and she held the comforter up to her chin, looking for all the world like a frightened virgin in the reflection of the oval mirror above the vanity at the far side of the room.

  Okay, that image was a blur, sharper in her mind’s eye than the one actually reflected in the mirror in this semidarkness. But Kate knew how she felt, and her uncertain emotions had turned her into an anxious insomniac all evening. Now, flinging back the covers, she limped barefooted to the window, wincing every time her right ankle briefly took her weight. Beyond the window she caught a glimpse of a quarter moon riding low in the sky, intermittently obscured by swiftly scudding clouds. It was a beautiful August night; she was just too unnerved to really appreciate it.

  She had called April before she had retired, itchily aware that Jake stood on the far side of the kitchen, acting as if he were completely deaf to her conversation. Like, oh, sure, he couldn’t hear her stiltedly try to explain to her daughter where she was staying and why!

  “Where are you?” April had demanded to Kate’s vague report of spending the night at a friend’s beach house.

  For an answer Kate had repeated the Talbots’ telephone number, adding hastily, “It’s just down the prom,” while she glanced over her shoulder to Jake.

  “But whose house is it?” April wanted to know. She was not a child easily put off, and Kate ground her teeth, completely aware that she had fostered this take charge, responsible side of her daughter, even prided herself on it!


  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  With a feeling of facing the firing squad, Kate revealed on a sigh, “It’s Mr. Talbot’s house. I twisted my ankle, and he saved me.”

  “Mr. Talbot?” April questioned. Kate could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Yes,” she said repressively.

  “Which Mr. Talbot?”

  “Are you even going to ask me if I’m okay?”

  “Are you okay, Mom?” April inquired dutifully, her voice full of mirth.

  “No, I’m not. My ankle hurts and I may never recover.”

  “I’m sorry.” April was instantly contrite, and Kate wanted to bang her own head against the wall. She was taking out her feelings on her daughter, and it wasn’t fair. “Have you seen a doctor?” April worried.

  “Not yet. It was kind of late, and oh, I don’t know, things just happened. But it’s fine, really. Just kind of painful. I twisted it enough when I was younger to know I’ll live.” She shot another look toward Jake. His back faced her, and he was pretending to sift through some mail which had apparently accumulated since he had last been to the beach house.

  “Which Mr. Talbot?” she asked again.

  “You might have to guess on that,” Kate sidestepped.

  “Oh, he’s right there? The younger one. The one you like.”

  “I don’t—!” Kate bit off her denial.

  “It’s a good thing Ryan’s dad and you didn’t hit it off,” April drawled, “otherwise I’d worry his heart might be broken!”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

  April’s laughter set Kate’s nerves on edge, but she had to concede that she was right. She had asked herself if her feelings for Jake were so obvious; April’s reaction was answer enough.

  “I’ll see you Sunday,” Kate rang off; then she stood for a moment uncomfortably waiting for something else to happen.

  “You’re staying the weekend in Seaside?” Jake questioned, still thumbing through his stack of envelopes. Kate realized he had sorted through the small grouping several times, never looking at one item too long or with much interest. So, he definitely had been eavesdropping. She hazarded a guess on what that meant and decided it was better not to think about it. Too much supposition could make a person go crazy!