“Let me be perfectly frank, honey. Right now you’re dancing around each other, having little forays that verge on real intimacy. Why not find out if you two are suited for each other? Apparently you like being with him, right?”
“He’s wonderful. Plus, he’s really great with Christopher. I enjoy being with him, even though most of the time I feel nervous and awkward. I don’t want him to get the feeling I’m desperate, because I’m not.”
“Anybody can see that a woman like you would never have to be desperate. You’re just out of practice.”
“You have no idea.”
“Then I’d say take it to the next level. Pump up the volume. Get intimate. Give yourself a chance to find out how you are together.”
“What am I supposed to do? Just call him up and tell him I’m ready to . . . well, you know.” Blushes were impossible to control.
“I’d say you’re long overdue if you can’t even say it.” Geoff uncurled his legs, stood up and held out a hand for her empty mug. “Want a warm up?”
“No thanks, I’ve already stayed longer than I planned. I have the whole day off today, and Chris is going to his first sleepover at Matt’s tonight.”
Geoff had started across the room with the mugs but stopped in his tracks and swiveled around. “Let me see if I have this right. It’s Friday. You have the night off, and for the first time in forever, you’re going to be alone all night long?”
He gave a dramatic little shiver of delight. “This is perfect! Now listen up, Carly, and let Uncle Geoff tell you exactly what to do.”
Jake shifted the cell phone, leaned against one of the front porch pillars, and watched the whitecaps far offshore.
“Hey, Kat. Did you come up with anything on Carly Nolan yet?” He could hear her shuffling through paperwork on her desk.
“You bet. When I called the high school in Albuquerque, I found out that when Caroline Graham was registered as a senior, a Carly Nolan was enrolled as a sophomore. Caroline never graduated. It turns out Nolan wasn’t listed as a junior or a senior the following years, which means she and Caroline both left the same year. There’s no record of Carly Nolan in any high school in New Mexico or Arizona or California after that.”
Jake walked over to the steps, sat on the porch. He had on paint-spattered, faded Levi’s with rips across one knee and beneath the back pocket. His worn, black high-top athletic shoes were smeared with the same white semi-gloss paint he’d been rolling on the walls.
“Did you ask them to fax us a copy of the photo of Carly Nolan?”
“Duh. And guess what? Same exact face you’ve been carrying around in your wallet.” Kat began ticking off the facts as she knew them. “It seems Miss Nolan never took out a driver’s license in New Mexico. There was nothing at the DMV listed for her at all until six years ago when she applied for a license in California. No car has ever been registered in her name. Phone number is unlisted. She has a Social Security number, though. Filed for it the same year she got the California license.”
Jake leaned against the porch column. “So, Carly and Caroline Graham attended the same high school for a year, but Carly seems to have disappeared until six years later. Supposedly Caroline Graham was working at a restaurant in Borrego, according to the Social Security records.”
“There’s more.” Kat was always proud of her sleuthing abilities and delighted when they paid off. “While I had the school on the line, I asked for the counselor. He gave me the name of the woman who had been there when both girls attended, but she retired a few years ago. I found her in the Albuquerque phone directory.”
“Let me guess, she’s elderly, retired, loves to talk.”
“You got it. Luckily, she still has a mind for detail. Remembered both girls. Caroline was always in and out of trouble, always in the principal’s office or on suspension. Carly was, too, even though she tested out high on the IQ charts. She didn’t apply herself and as far as I can tell she never received a high school diploma from anywhere.”
“Did she and Caroline know each other?” Jake watched a small dust devil whip across the drive.
“It’s way better than that. They were both living in the same foster home. Caroline, Carly, and two younger boys. The two girls ran away. They took off in March of Caroline’s senior year and never turned up in the foster care system again.”
Jake was silent for so long that Kat finally asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That Carly assumed Caroline’s identity.”
“Right. We know she was living in Borrego passing herself off as Caroline Graham when she moved in with that Walton character. Your buddy, Rick Saunders, knew her as Caroline, too, but the pictures he had were of Carly Nolan, the woman you met in Twilight Cove.”
Jake got up and started to pace the front drive. “So, Carly most likely ran away with Caroline Graham. Sometime after that, assuming Caroline’s identity, she shows up in California and uses Caroline’s Social Security number to get a job.”
Kat filled in the rest. “Then right after Carly left Borrego Springs with the kid, she started using her own name again. She applied for a driver’s license as Carly Nolan, established her own Social Security number, and no one was the wiser. While you and the Saunders’ P.I.s were searching for Caroline Graham, digging up her history, Carly Nolan was the one you really should have been after the whole time. It was a seamless plan. Carly had simply assumed her own identity again.”
“We had no idea who she really was and would have never found her—”
“If I hadn’t seen that travel magazine article about the gallery and noticed the painting.”
“But that leaves another, even bigger question hanging.”
“Yeah, I know,” Kat said. “What happened to the real Caroline Graham?”
25
THAT EVENING JAKE SHOWERED IN RUBBER THONGS.
He wasn’t the greatest housekeeper in the world by any stretch of the imagination, but he did have some standards. The old bathroom upstairs wasn’t even up to those.
His shoes squished when he stepped out onto the old tile floor. He dried off, then towel dried his hair, shoved it in place with his fingers and walked into the bedroom to grab clean clothes. He’d gone through all his Hungry Man dinners already and wasn’t looking forward to canned soup, so he had decided to drive down to town and have dinner at the diner.
He was so hungry that he clearly imagined the aroma of baked chicken, sure that paint fumes had finally gotten to him, convinced he was hallucinating, until he walked downstairs and discovered Carly seated on a blanket spread out on the living room floor.
She’d centered a tablecloth on the plaid blanket and laid out a romantic dinner for two complete with white ceramic dishes that he recognized from her place, long-stemmed wineglasses, and candles in crystal candleholders. White linen napkins were folded into bird of paradise blossoms.
His heart stumbled when she smiled up at him, her eyes filled with all the things he wished he couldn’t recognize— expectation, a touch of fear, an underlying trust that he didn’t deserve.
When he had told her the next move was hers, he hadn’t expected any more than a phone call.
Now without trying, she had succeeded in making him feel like a bigger heel than he already thought he was. Silently cursing himself, it didn’t help knowing that she had plenty of secrets of her own. He smiled back at her as he walked into the room.
The candlelight reflected in her deep green eyes made her appear younger, more vulnerable than ever. She’d worn her hair loose and free, draping her shoulders. A blush pink, sleeveless sweater complemented the high color on her cheeks.
If what he and Kat suspected was true, Carly was only twenty-six, not twenty-nine.
“This is a nice surprise.” He sat down on the floor at the place she’d set for him.
“You said you wanted to talk,” she told him softly.
“I said the next move was yours.” He motioned to the candles, the wineglasse
s. “Wow.”
There was no way in hell he could explain his motives now, not without making her feel like a fool.
She stared up into his eyes for a second, then looked away as she reached into the basket again. “I brought some bottled water. And some wine. I didn’t know if you like wine. I would have opened it, but I can’t seem to make this corkscrew work.”
Her hands shook as she passed him a bottle of water, then the corkscrew, a very nice bottle of Pinot Grigio, and started fidgeting with the food boxes. He set everything down.
“Carly?”
Startled, she froze with her hands on a half-opened container of chicken. “Have you eaten?”
“No. Your timing couldn’t be better. I’m starving.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “God, that smells great.”
“It’s Joe’s special herb chicken. The recipe is a secret.”
“Where’s Chris?”
“Sleeping over at Matt’s.”
“Give me your hands.”
“My hands?”
“Those things at the ends of your arms. Connected to your wrists.” He held his own hands out across the place settings.
She extended her hands toward his. He took hold and held them gently but firmly. She was still trembling.
“Everything looks beautiful. I really appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to tonight.” He held onto her, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Are you all right?”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, and shook her head.
“Not really. This wasn’t my idea,” she confessed. “It was Geoff’s. Now that I’m here, I’m afraid I’ve made a fool of myself.”
“Never. Now, I haven’t had a decent meal in two days, and I’m starved. What do you say I open the wine, and let’s eat? We can pretend we’re eating box macaroni and cheese in your kitchen if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
Her fingers had tightened on his hands while he spoke, but he could see she was relieved.
“Okay. That sounds great.”
He let go, picked up his plate and handed it to her. “You pile on the chicken, and I’ll open the wine.”
“It’s a deal.”
Carly had changed four times before she decided on the pink, sleeveless mock turtleneck and Levi’s. She had groaned when she slipped into her underwear, knowing after all the trouble Geoff had gone to that if he had seen her cotton briefs and sports bra, he’d have called the Victoria’s Secret hotline and placed an emergency order.
When Jake had first walked into the room and found her sitting there, she was afraid she was going to throw up right in front of him, but he’d known the exact words to say to help calm her racing heart.
She watched him eat everything that she heaped on his plate while she only managed a few bites of salad and two glasses of wine. The wine was probably the best and worst idea of the whole plan. Buttery and mellow, it helped take the edge off, but it also stirred her blood, made the night soft and fuzzy.
She found herself half listening to Jake, concentrating not on the words but on the way his lips formed them, the sound of his voice. Warm and deep, it moved over her like a comforting caress.
“Carly?”
“Hmm?” She started when she realized he was expecting her to say something. She set down her empty wine glass. He held her gaze with the intensity of his own.
“I said that was delicious. The best meal I’ve had in a long time.” He picked up the wine bottle, filled her glass halfway, topped off his own. “Let’s go out to the porch.”
“Okay.” She watched him stand, let him help her to her feet. He reached for the wineglasses, handed her one, and together they walked carefully across the maze of drop cloths to the front door.
Outside, darkness tinted the hillside in black and gray. She walked to the end of the porch, sat on the low wall, looking into the darkness, out toward the sound of the breakers crashing on the point.
A slight breeze was blowing. There wasn’t a cloud in the star-spattered sky. She set her wineglass down, afraid to take another sip, afraid of losing control. She didn’t want to forget a single detail of this night.
When Jake moved up behind her, she was certain she’d have known he was there, even if she hadn’t heard the soft slap of his rubber thongs against the porch. She felt his arm on her shoulder and then a gentle nudge as he pulled her against him. Resting against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart and every breath he took, she closed her eyes.
The rhythm of his heartbeat was slow and sure. Hers was racing triple time. Staring out at the infinite patterns of stars, listening to the sound of the sea as it echoed against the black hills, she wished time could stand still.
She wished for tomorrows, not yesterdays. Wished for no more regrets, no bad memories, no disappointments. She wanted only to remember this night and hoped for new memories to come.
He stroked her arm, moved his hand upward until his thumb was at the nape of her neck, his fingers gently wrapped around her throat. He made slow, lazy little circles against the nape of her neck.
“What are you thinking about?” His voice, so close to her ear, came to her out of the silence, stirred her down to her toes.
“The night. All those stars. How I sometimes wish that there were only tomorrows.”
“Why?”
“Because then everything would always be fresh and new. There’d be no past, no regrets.”
“What do you have to regret, Carly?”
She shrugged. “So many things I would have done differently. Decisions I would change if I could. Everyone has regrets. Don’t you?”
“You bet. But what about the past, Carly? You’ve never told me anything about your past.”
“I didn’t come here to talk about that. Not tonight.”
“Why did you come tonight?”
“Have you ever . . . taken a chance, Jake? Have you ever gambled on something you really wanted, even though it might turn out to be the wrong thing?”
She felt him tense, then relax. “I took a chance starting my own firm. Not everyone in my family was happy about it. I had . . . a friend who helped me.” He shifted, drew her even closer. “Renting this house for the summer in a place so far from work and home might not be the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
He fell silent, thoughtful, then asked, “Do you think tomorrow, when the stars fade and the sun comes out again that you’re going to regret tonight?”
“I hope not.”
Although neither of them had mentioned it, she suspected he was aware of her wants and needs. He knew exactly why she’d come to him alone tonight.
Carly turned in his arms, aching to touch him, needing to look into his eyes, to have him touch her. Flickering candlelight bled through the window, moving in patterns of light and shadow over his face, highlighting his handsomeness, masking his expression.
He took her in his arms and kissed her, long and deep. White fire heat pulsed through her, made her come alive.
His hand slid unerringly beneath the hem of her sweater, moved over her midriff, until he cupped her breast. Through the soft knit material of her sports bra, she felt his thumb explore her taut nipple and an instant surge of need rocked her. She pressed against him, against his arousal.
“Oh, God.” She gasped as his hand closed around her breast. “Oh, God, yes, Jake.”
A sob escaped her, quickly lost as his mouth covered hers. He pressed her against the cement coping atop one of the pillars that framed the porch. Kissed her long and deep. Then suddenly he was no longer there.
He stepped back. With his hands fisted at his sides, he stared at her while he took in air like a long-distance runner.
Her heart stuttered. Carly closed her eyes.
“Don’t humiliate me, Jake.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “If you don’t want me, just say so, and I’ll leave.”
Want her?
He needed her more than he needed his next breath. She was trembling, leaning against the column for support,
her eyes searching his face.
He was all too aware of what it cost her to come here tonight. She’d already taken a huge risk by letting him into her life. An honest man would admit that he never in a million years thought it would go this far this fast, but so far he hadn’t been completely honest with her or himself.
Seeing her backlit by starlight with everything in her heart right there in her eyes, he knew that if he told her the truth now, it would crush her.
Tonight would be for her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell her the truth.
He may have come here for Rick, for Christopher’s sake, but he had grown to care for Carly and her son. He caught himself thinking of her every hour of every day. For the first time in years, he found himself wanting more than a temporary arrangement.
For the first time in years, he was willing to put his heart on the line, and the irony was that he was handing it over to a woman with more secrets than he could count. Yet he still wanted her, needed only her.
He held out his arms.
On a sigh, she stepped into them, let him enfold her in his embrace. He kissed her again, cupped her face in his hands, savored her sweetness.
Then he picked her up and carried her back into the house, through the newly painted rooms, across a patchwork of drop cloths, around the ladder in the middle of the hallway.
The only room in decent shape was upstairs. He’d torn out the filthy carpet, swept the distressed hardwood floors beneath.
He carried her up the stairs to the room where his comforter was spread open across a queen-sized air mattress covered with a sheet. His T-shirts and pants were piled at the edge of the room.
He carried her directly to the bed, set her on her feet beside it, held her in his arms.
“Not exactly a suite at the Hilton.” He apologized against her lips.
“I don’t want a suite at the Hilton.”
“What do you want, Carly?”
She slid her fingers into the pocket of her jeans, pulled out a foil-wrapped condom and slipped it into his palm. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You, Jake. Right now, I want you,” she whispered.
Lover's Lane Page 17
