“Unfortunately, I’m not.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and resumed walking.
“Is that the reason you’re so adamant about not becoming involved with anyone who’s otherwise committed?”
“One of the reasons,” he agreed. “Unfortunate personal experience and a general belief that extramarital affairs are in poor taste. If a relationship is that bad, get out of it.”
“Would you…” She hesitated, knowing she had no right to ask the question, but curious anyway.
“Would I what?”
“Would you ever get married again?”
He was silent for a long minute. “I didn’t used to think so,” he admitted, then shrugged. “But maybe.”
Riane wasn’t sure what she expected him to say, and she couldn’t have said why she was disappointed by his response. But she was, and that unnerved her enough that she decided not to pursue the topic any further.
“Here’s your hotel,” Joel said.
“Oh.” Riane just stood there, staring up at the building and feeling awkward. She could feel Joel shift on his feet beside her, knew he was probably anxious to get back to his own place, but she didn’t want to be alone. Not yet.
“Do you want to come in for a drink? Or a cup of coffee?”
Joel shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nodded.
He started to step away, hesitated. “Are you going to be okay?”
She forced a smile. Strong and independent, she reminded herself. “Sure.”
Joel sighed, wondering why he wasn’t able to walk away from her when he knew it was the smart thing to do. “Did you want me to come up for a while?”
Riane turned back to him, her deep brown eyes pleading. God, he was such a sucker for her eyes. “Would you?”
No. Absolutely not. The last thing he needed was further stimulation of his fantasies by accompanying Riane to her hotel room. As if the night they’d spent in that shabby motel wasn’t torture enough on his libido. But when he opened his mouth, the response that came out was “Sure.”
She fell silent again on the ride up to the seventh floor in the elevator. She was probably having second thoughts about inviting him up to her room. And she should be. He’d told her he had regrets about not making love with her before; she had to know how much he still wanted her.
“I know this is going to sound ridiculous,” Riane admitted, stepping through the door of her hotel room. “But I don’t like being alone. Since I found out about my childhood, I…”
Her words trailed off, her cheeks flushed.
Joel closed the door behind him and moved toward her. He cupped her cheek in his hand, tilted her head so that she had to meet his eyes. “Tell me,” he said softly.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” she confessed. “I wake up in a panic, not knowing where I am, who I am.”
“I’m sure that’s a natural reaction, considering everything you’ve been through.”
“Maybe. And as soon as I open my eyes and recognize my surroundings, I’m okay. But…”
“But nothing’s familiar here,” he guessed.
She nodded.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” If he’d thought about it, he never would have made such an offer. But the words were out of his mouth before his brain had clicked into gear, and when Riane turned those big brown eyes on him and nodded in gratitude, he was lost.
“Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand.
“Where?”
“To bed.”
Her eyes widened.
Joel chuckled, even while his hormones were raging at his insanity. “I’m going to lie down with you, not attack you,” he told her.
“Oh.”
He led her over to the king-size bed that dominated the room. The bed that had been the focus of his attention since he’d walked through the door behind Riane and laid eyes on it. Now, as she willingly followed him, his treacherous mind conjured erotic images of Riane and him rolling over on that mattress, naked, sweaty, panting. He nearly groaned aloud as he desperately tried to banish the images. But his body was on full alert and he didn’t know how he was going to get through this night.
“Can I put my pajamas on?” Riane asked as he pulled back the covers.
Joel hesitated, remembering the skimpy camisole top and high-cut panties she’d worn at the budget motel. But that was because she didn’t have anything else, and the word pajamas brought to mind images of warm, bulky flannel.
“Sure,” he agreed, feeling magnanimous. Pajamas had to cover more skin than the dress she was wearing. And he intended to tuck her safely away under the covers, anyway. For his own sanity and self-preservation, he’d sleep on top.
She tugged something out of her suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.
Joel stretched out on top of the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for her to return, envisioning a more enjoyable end to the evening than Riane sleeping peacefully beside him. The images came back with a vengeance: naked, sweaty, panting.
Unfortunately, Riane had made it clear that her interest in him was in the past tense. I wanted you, she’d said. Not want, but wanted. And she’d assured him she had no regrets about that night, about not making love.
He’d never regretted anything more. To hell with his own moral code—she hadn’t really been engaged to Stuart. To hell with the rules of consent—she may have been drunk, but she wasn’t too drunk to throw herself at him.
Joel sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, razor stubble rasping against his palm. Yes, he had regrets. He also knew that if he could go back to that night, he’d walk away again. Because he cared about her too much to take advantage of the situation. And that, he knew, would be his downfall. Caring was a weakness; caring for someone like Riane was complete folly. He’d learned that lesson from his ex-wife.
He’d been attracted to Jocelyn, flattered that she’d reciprocated his interest. But when the passion had waned, there had been nothing left. Nothing but bitterness and regrets.
He pushed the memories aside. It was easier to do now. Jocelyn was part of a past he didn’t care to remember, and time and distance had healed the wounds—or most of them, anyway. The pain of those that remained had dulled enough to be tolerable.
He heard the click of the door as Riane stepped out of the bathroom, and all thoughts of his ex-wife were vanquished from his mind.
Maybe, technically, what she was wearing were pajamas, but they were neither bulky nor flannel. The top was less than a camisole, the neckline plunging, the thin straps crossing over her bare back. The bottoms were long, but they sat low on her hips, exposing a tantalizing few inches of creamy skin and the darker hollow of her navel. He wasn’t sure what the outfit was made of, except that the material was flimsy and silky and clung enticingly to her curves.
He forced his jaw shut, swallowed. “All set?”
Riane nodded.
“Okay, then.” He patted the empty space on the bed beside him. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Thankfully, it didn’t seem to take her long to drift off. But when she rolled over and pillowed her head on his chest, Joel’s hopes of getting any shut-eye diminished. It was torture to have her in his arms and not be able to touch her, to watch the rise and fall of her breasts beneath that skimpy top and remember the weight of them in his palms, to listen to her soft, even breathing and recall her throaty moans and whimpers.
He tried to move away, hoping that a little physical distance might cool the heat raging through his body, but the hand she’d tucked under her cheek fisted in his shirt, as if to hold on to him. And Joel resigned himself to staying awake—and aroused—for the duration of the night.
He considered reneging on his promise and just getting the hell out of her hotel room, but he couldn’t forget the way she’d looked at him. The embarrassment when she’d admitted to the nightmares. The undisguised gratitude when he’d offered to stay. No one had ever
looked at him like that—like he was some kind of hero.
He’d never wanted anyone to look at him like that; he’d never wanted anyone to need him. But he wanted to be there for Riane. He wanted her to know that she could depend on him. He wanted a lot of things where Riane was concerned, and they were all out of his reach.
The circumstances of her adoption had brought them together, but there was nothing to hold them there. She was the cherished daughter in a family of wealth and privilege; he’d grown up in a loveless and impoverished home. She thrived in the spotlight; he abhorred it. There was no way their pasts could be reconciled, no hope for a future together.
He should get out of here—out of her hotel room, out of her life. So what if he’d promised to go to her sister’s with her tomorrow? So what if she was depending on him for moral support? He needed to start thinking about self-preservation, because he knew if he spent any more time with Riane, he could fall in love with her. Hell, he was already halfway there.
No, there was no way he could allow that to happen. He had to step back, step away, and never look back. And he would.
Tomorrow.
Riane was relieved when they arrived at Shaun and Arden’s house the following afternoon and found there were others in attendance for the barbecue. Arden’s cousin, Nikki, and Nikki’s husband, Colin—who also happened to be Shaun’s brother. And Nikki and Colin’s children: Carly, a darling six-and-a-half year old girl, and Justin, a chubby-cheeked little boy who wasn’t yet six weeks old.
The boisterous interaction awed Riane just a little. It had been just herself and her parents for so long that she didn’t know what to say or do. She felt confident that she could hold her own in any discussion about global politics, but she didn’t know the first thing about family dynamics.
Still, everyone made an effort to draw her into the conversation, and Joel was careful not to venture too far from her side. She hated that she needed the reassurance of his presence, and yet she found such immense comfort in his nearness. She’d been working crowds at political functions for years, accustomed to mixing with acquaintances or strangers. But these were people she should know; this was her family.
Carly was a blessing. The child took to Riane immediately, and Riane enjoyed listening to her animated chatter. It was easy to relate to her because she wasn’t worried about the little girl’s preconceptions and expectations.
Arden, on the other hand, baffled her completely. The elegant professional woman she’d witnessed in court the previous day had dissolved into tears when she’d seen Riane and Joel on the doorstep. Riane had backed away instinctively, having no idea how to respond.
Arden had excused herself tearfully.
“She wasn’t sure you’d really come,” Shaun said by way of explanation.
And then he’d taken Riane’s hands in both of his and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.”
And that simply, Riane had felt herself drawn—willingly or not—into the chaos that was the McIver family.
A family barbecue, Riane quickly realized, was nothing like a formal evening at the country club. There was plenty of laughter, an abundance of food and a ton of chaos. Conversation flowed as freely as the wine and left Riane equally dizzy. She was glad she’d agreed to come, and relieved that Joel was with her. His was the only familiar face within this group of strangers, and she was comforted by his presence. At least until his thigh brushed against hers under the table, and comfort shifted to awareness to desire.
When Carly piped up from the other end of the table asking for a Popsicle, Riane was quick to offer to get it for her. She’d just sent the child back outside with her coveted cherry treat when Arden came in. It was a decidedly awkward moment as the two sisters faced each other without interference.
Riane cleared her throat, searching for something to say. Something that might, perhaps, break through the polite facade that had governed their interaction.
“Dinner was great,” she ventured at last, unable to come up with anything more substantial.
“Good. I mean, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Shaun picked up the steaks, but I know a lot of health-conscious people avoid red meat these days, although try to explain that to a meat-and-potatoes kind of man.”
It was while listening to Arden babble about the meal they’d already consumed that Riane considered something she hadn’t before: Arden was just as nervous about this meeting as she was. While the realization didn’t alleviate any of her own apprehension, it did, at least, level the playing field a little. And it gave her the courage to cut through the polite distance they’d respected throughout the afternoon.
“This is awkward, isn’t it?” she asked.
Arden nodded. “I expected it would be, and yet I hoped it wouldn’t.”
“I’m not sure I understand why you were looking for me, what you expected,” Riane admitted.
“I don’t know what I expected, either,” Arden told her.
“I mean, twenty-two years is a long time, and you were little more than a baby the last time I saw you.”
“I don’t remember you,” Riane confessed.
Arden’s smile was obviously strained. “The logical part of my brain knows you couldn’t. The emotional part wishes you did.”
“Why were you looking for me? Why now?”
“That was Shaun’s doing,” Arden admitted. “Not that I didn’t want to find you. But I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Arden folded her hands in front of her, toyed with the large square-cut-solitaire diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”
This revelation stunned Riane. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that Arden would be haunted by any of the same doubts and insecurities that plagued her. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because I left you.”
“I don’t understand,” Riane said. “I thought I was the one who was adopted.”
Arden nodded. “I guess you don’t know as much about everything as I thought you did.”
“My parents—my adoptive parents,” she amended, “have answered all my questions. But maybe I haven’t been asking all of the right ones.”
“We share the same mother,” Arden told her. “My father died when I was four, and our mother married your father about a year later.
“Our family life wasn’t very pleasant. Gavin—your father—was abusive. Verbally at first, but it soon escalated to physical violence. It got worse when our mother got pregnant with you. There’s no need to go into all the details,” Arden said, “but my aunt—Nikki’s mother, my father’s sister—came to visit for my ninth birthday. She recognized that it wasn’t a healthy environment, and she convinced our mother to let me go live with her.
“She wanted to take you, too,” Arden said. “Although I didn’t know that at the time. I only remember her telling me that I was going to live with her from now on, and I cried and cried. I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want him to do to you what he’d done—” She shook her head, as if to dislodge the memory, and Riane’s stomach churned as her mind thought of countless ways to finish the incomplete thought—none of them pleasant.
“Anyway,” Arden continued, her lips curving slightly in response to a happier memory, “I had this doll. It was the last gift my father ever gave me. A beautiful doll with long dark curls and big blue eyes. She was my most prized possession, and you used to look at her and say ‘pwetty.’”
Riane shifted, a little embarrassed to hear stories of her childhood from a woman she didn’t remember. Memories she couldn’t share.
“When I left, I gave that doll to you. I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”
“Ohmygod.” Riane clapped her hand over her mouth, stunned. “Eden.”
Arden looked at her strangely. “Eden?”
“That’s what I called her—I must have been trying to say ‘Arden,’ but everyone thought it was ‘Eden.’ I called the doll Eden.”
Ard
en smiled. “You remember it?”
“I still have it.”
Riane watched her sister’s eyes fill with tears and felt her own throat tighten. She’d been so sure there was nothing left between them, no connection. But she was no longer so certain. The doll she was referring to was old and worn, but she’d still held on to it. After all these years she still had that doll—the doll her sister had given to her.
“I’m glad you kept it,” Arden told her.
“I never understood why I was so attached to it,” she admitted. “I remember packing up my room as I was getting ready to go away to law school and thinking that maybe it was time to give her up. But I just couldn’t do it.”
“You went to law school, too?”
Riane shrugged. “It seems to be a family tradition.”
“Your parents must be really proud of you.”
“Yeah, I think they are.” She hesitated, then finally asked the question she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask of anyone else. “Do you have any contact with my biological parents?”
Arden shook her head. “No. Not since—no.”
Riane nodded.
“Ask.”
“Ask what?”
“Whatever’s on your mind but you think you shouldn’t.”
Riane smiled. “You’re very perceptive.”
“Being able to read people is an important part of my job.”
“You’re very good at your job,” Riane said.
Arden looked startled.
“I saw you in court yesterday,” she explained.
“It’s easy when you’re always on the side of truth and justice.” She grinned. “It’s something Shaun and I often disagree about.”
Riane laughed, starting to feel a little less awkward.
“You haven’t asked yet,” Arden reminded her.
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“About our family,” Arden guessed.
Riane nodded. “I feel disloyal to my parents—my adoptive parents—”
Arden waved off the proviso. “They are your parents in every way that counts.”
“I’m curious,” Riane admitted. “About the people who contributed to my DNA. On the other hand, I know I wouldn’t have been taken out of their home if they’d been good parents.”
Some Kind of Hero Page 17
