Now You See Me

by Kris Fletcher

  For the first time since he walked in, she felt a twinge of doubt. Not as to what she wanted to do, but what would happen when the time was up. She had the distinct impression that J. T. Delaney could be highly habit-forming. Could she really end it, just like that? Her stomach clenched.

  But she would have no choice. The kids would be home, Ruth would be back and he would be leaving.

  “You’re being way too understanding,” she said. “If anyone finds out, this will be hell on your reputation.”

  “It’s a risk, but I’ll manage.”

  She lowered her head again and let herself enjoy, without pressure, the feel of a strong shoulder beneath her cheek. He rubbed her back. She took a deep breath, reacquainting herself with his fresh-air scent, feeling the equilibrium return. He kissed her hair. She smiled.

  “You need to get going?” he asked after a moment’s silence.

  “Probably.”

  “You want to take a rain check on tomorrow night?”

  Did she? Lyddie thought back to the confusion, the desire, the gentle understanding he’d shown.

  Some things took time. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. But while she would always miss Glenn, it wasn’t the breath-stealing grief it had been. She was past that. Not just because of the passage of time, but because she’d made a conscious choice to move beyond it. She’d done it mostly for the kids, at least at first. They didn’t need to lose their mother as well as their father.

  But if she’d managed to move on once, she could do it again.

  Slowly, she shook her head. “No rain check. On any of it.”

  “Lyddie—”

  “No. Really. I’m not going to force anything, but this is one of those times when it won’t hurt to keep all the options open. Know what I mean?”

  He laughed against her, the sound low and rumbling. “Are you always this practical?”

  “I wish.” She waited the space of one breath, debated for a second then decided if she were going to be determined, there was no time like the present.

  “J.T.?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could we give that kissing thing one more shot?”

  He stilled. “You sure?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Good move.

  This time, he wasn’t entirely foreign. This time she was ready for the differences. This time she was prepared for the greater-than-expected heat of his lips.

  This time, as he slowly melded himself to her, she managed to focus on him. Just J.T.

  Sensation was all that mattered now: the gentle play of mouth against mouth. The warm strength of his hands cradling her head, sliding lower to rest on her shoulders, tugging her closer to him. The soft hum of pleasure when she tilted her head to increase the contact.

  She could do this. She wanted to do this.

  Lydia Brewster was on her way back.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TWO DAYS AFTER Lyddie offered him the best proposition of his life, J.T. walked through downtown with his briefcase in his hand and an all-too-familiar feeling in his heart: guilt.

  Dinner hadn’t happened after all. Lyddie had called with an apology to tell him she’d forgotten Ben’s pre-camp doctor appointment. But he had made the drive across the bridge anyway, armed with her explicit instructions as to the type and quantity of tests. Now the crisp pharmacy bag was nestled in his briefcase. The fact that it was hidden securely from the view of any passerby did nothing to alleviate his certainty that anyone who looked at him would know exactly what was in the case, what he planned to do with it, and—most damning of all—who he planned to do it with.

  For himself, he didn’t really care. He had nothing to lose and a whole lot of happy to gain. But Lyddie had to live here. She’d already gone out on a limb, planning to buy the building and standing up for him in public. The town would forgive her, eventually, for defending him. Hanging out with him was pushing it. And if they knew how she planned to spend her two weeks of freedom, well...

  Though maybe it would be better if they did. If they thought she’d fallen for him, maybe it would be easier for them to forgive the sale. People always seemed to expect nonsense from a woman who was besotted. They were never quite as understanding when the woman was completely sane.

  Interesting theory. He’d have to mention it to Lyddie when—

  Ah, damn.

  Half a block to go until he reached River Joe’s, and who was heading straight for him but Ruth Brewster. The thunderclouds building in the sky had nothing on the ones in her eyes.

  He almost shoved the briefcase behind his back. Instead, he switched it to his left hand and raised the right in what he hoped was a casual greeting.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Brewster.”

  Ruth slowed her steps and glanced up and down the sidewalk. For a moment he thought she was checking to see if he could possibly be speaking to someone else. Then he realized she was making sure no one she knew was in sight. Something was afoot.

  “I need to talk to you, J.T.”

  What was it with the Brewster women accosting him on public sidewalks?

  “Sure,” he said, all smiles and agreement. “Should we go get a cup of coffee?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve no time to waste on false politeness. There’s just two things I need to say to you.”

  “Yes?”

  “First, I’m worried about your mother.”

  He hadn’t seen that one coming. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve been thinking about her since the night you came to our house. I’ve been a mite busy and haven’t paid her enough attention, but now I see there’s something not right with her.” Ruth fidgeted with the clasp on her blindingly white purse.

  He thought back to those moments in the kitchen before a bit of stray jam had led him deep into temptation. “You said that everything sounded normal.”

  “It does. But there’s something else. Iris was never any bigger around than a cattail, but there’s nothing to her these days. And she always seems so tired. That flu she had last winter pretty well wiped her right out. I want you to get her to a doctor.”

  “She’s being treated, but I’ll double-check on her appointments,” he said cautiously. “Uh...is there anything in particular you think I should be worried about?”

  “At our age, it could be anything. The blood gets thicker, the bones get thinner, the heart doesn’t know what it’s supposed to do anymore. Add in losing your husband, and, well...that kind of shock takes a toll on a body.” Her voice wavered, just the briefest of seconds, before she cleared her throat. “Well. Have her checked out top to toe.”

  He breathed a silent sigh of relief. No mention of emotional problems other than grief. “I will,” he promised again.

  “I hear you might be keeping one of the cabins for her to spend the summers.”

  “It seems like a good compromise.”

  “It is. And I’ll give you credit for that. Everything I heard when you first came home said that you were hell-bent on getting her out of here and never looking back, but I think this would be better for her. Nobody can blame her for wanting to get away for winters, but she needs to be here. At least some of the time. I’m glad you’re not so shortsighted that you would rip her away from everyone she knows and loves just to make things easier on you.”

  It was probably the most backhanded compliment he could recall receiving, but he knew what it must have cost Ruth to offer it. He nodded in acceptance.

  “Of course, some folks think you’re just saying that to get her to go peacefully.”

  “Really.”

  She nodded.

  He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was. No—he shouldn’t have been as hurt as he was.

  “Mrs. Brewster, I am well aware that I put my mother through all kinds of hell when I was a kid. I can never begin to make that up to her. But even at my stupidest, I never deliberately set out to hurt her. My only concern is what’s best for her health and happiness. That’s
a message I would thank you to deliver to anyone who might be questioning my motives.”

  She peered at him. “Swear on your father’s grave.”

  He resisted the impulse to raise his hand in a Scout salute. “I swear.”

  “Good. Now while you’re at it, swear that you’ll leave my daughter-in-law alone while I’m away.”

  Now there was the Ruth Brewster he’d been expecting.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I really think that what Lyddie does is none—”

  “Of my business.” She waved her hand, all signs of nervousness gone now. “Of course it is. She’s my family and she’s been through enough. She doesn’t need the kind of heartache you would bring.”

  He could point out, legitimately, that it wouldn’t be up to Ruth, but he knew what she was really saying. He had no reason to make a lonely widow think she was about to lose her last connection to her son.

  “I’m not going to whisk her and the children away. I’m not here to upset anyone’s life. And believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of breaking hearts.”

  Ruth sighed. “Please. Your poor mother might be down now, but she’s a ray of sunshine compared to what she was like after you ran off.”

  “That was a long time ago,” he said stiffly.

  “Feels like yesterday to some of us.”

  “To me, too.” And that was growing more unpleasant by the minute. “But that has nothing to do with Lyddie.”

  “It has everything to do with her. She has to live here, she has to be able to hold her head up without shame. She can’t do that if you...if you...”

  “If I what? Look at her? Laugh with her?” He leaned closer, hoping he could shock her into silence by stating the unthinkable. “Make love to her?”

  Ruth closed her eyes, undoubtedly praying for strength.

  “Whatever you would be doing with her, love would play no part in it.”

  Well, of course not. Love had no place in what he and Lyddie had planned. Respect and affection and good old-fashioned lust, yeah, but that was it.

  Though when he remembered the way her voice had softened that night in the kitchen, when she talked about the everyday things that reminded her of her husband, he realized it was a lucky man indeed who would be loved by Lydia Brewster.

  “Look.” He spoke briskly to shake off his sudden longing. “I appreciate your concern about my mother. I promise I’ll take care of her. And I can also promise that whatever business Lyddie and I might have, I’ll do nothing to hurt her.”

  He could easily swear to do no harm. That was the truth. But he wasn’t going to stand in the middle of Main Street with an HIV test in his briefcase and flat-out lie about his plans. That was an invitation to get struck by lightning if ever he’d heard one.

  But from the way Ruth’s narrow lips thinned a little more, he knew she wasn’t the least bit mollified. He braced himself.

  But Ruth only shook her head. “When you were five years old,” she said, “you could already outtalk anyone. My husband sat down with you in the church basement one Sunday and tried to come up with a question you couldn’t answer or a piece of logic you couldn’t argue. But you stumped him. No matter what he said, you had an answer for it. Every single time.” A sad smile flitted across her face. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, J.T.?”

  Lucky for him, a flock of giggling teens swarmed around them then, filling the air with their chatter so he didn’t have to try to reply. Ruth gave him one last warning look before marching along in their wake. He moved more slowly as he continued to the water.

  Thank God for noisy teenagers.

  The blue shingled roof of River Joe’s came into sight and he picked up speed. He couldn’t wait to be inside, to close the door on the rest of the world for a little while in the one place in town he felt almost like himself.

  With Lyddie.

  * * *

  IF J.T. DIDN’T MATERIALIZE in the next two minutes, Lyddie was going to throw up.

  All morning she’d had the shakes. All afternoon she’d wondered wildly what she would do if Nadine decided to linger for another medical conversation. And for the whole long twenty minutes since Nadine had finally headed out, Lyddie paced the kitchen and worried. He was late. Was he having second thoughts? Maybe he’d realized what an idiotic idea this was. Or maybe the town had found out and they were organizing a lynch mob at that very moment.

  She pulled out a block of cheese, grabbed a knife and started slicing. Anything was better than playing “what if.” And if he walked in and said he’d changed his mind, she had a murder weapon close at hand.

  Then the familiar tap, tap, tap sounded at the back door and the knife clattered to the butcher block. She gave a nervous little yip, wiped slick palms on her apron and glanced at the door.

  It was him. And he looked almost as desperate as she felt.

  She hurried to let him in, noting that it had started to rain, glancing quickly up and down the shoreline. No one but a few tourists in sight.

  “Hey, there.” She refused to look at the briefcase. Not yet.

  “Hi.”

  Silence.

  She had no idea what to say next. What was the protocol? Was she supposed to be businesslike, or seductive, or offer him a cup of coffee before they started discussing bodily fluids, or—

  He drew in a deep breath. “So, you ready to play vampire?”

  She could have kissed him then and there, just for making her laugh. But it seemed too forward, too abrupt. Besides, with a couple of drops of rain still clinging to his upper lip, he looked so damned hot that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop. Restraint. That was what she needed. So she nodded toward the butcher-block table and the cheese.

  “Let me put this away first.”

  He followed close behind as she returned to the work area. Even without looking, she was aware of the way they walked in perfect unison, and for one wild moment she wondered if they would find other rhythms so easily.

  “Uh, Lyddie?” He reached around her to tap her fist, which was closed tightly around the knife, his breath warm against her cheek, his forearm brushing hers. “The kit comes with lancets, okay? We won’t need that to draw the blood.”

  The hell with restraint.

  The knife clattered to the table as she turned in the circle of his arms and dive-bombed him.

  Jitters fled at the first touch of her lips against his. Nervousness evaporated as his mouth parted and his arms tightened around her. He pressed her against the edge of the table, kissing her with a desperate heat that told her he’d needed this reassurance as much as she had. He moved in closer and she tilted her hips against his and wished she was the kind of woman who could throw caution to the wind, because her imagination was throwing out some very insistent suggestions as to what could be done with him, her and that great big table right behind her.

  When reason reasserted itself and she reluctantly broke the kiss, she rested her head against his chest and breathed in his musky dampness. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  His lips grazed the top of her head. “Me, too.”

  “Lousy day?” She swallowed hard. “Second thoughts?”

  “The only second thoughts I’ve had are to wonder whether or not this is right for you.”

  “It sure feels that way. At least at the moment.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” He ran one finger lightly down her back, barely touching, yet it was enough contact to push her closer to him again.

  “How about you?” he asked against her ear. “Any doubts? You know it’s allowed.”

  She shook her head slowly, reveling in the brush of her cheek against the firmness of his chest. “I’m nervous. Anxious. But like I said, I think I’d regret not doing this a whole lot more than I’ll ever regret going through with it.”

  “Positive?”

  “Well, maybe not totally.” She tilted her head back to grin up at him. “Kiss me again and I’ll let you know for sure.”

  “Forget it
.” He stepped away from her, hands behind his back. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Lyddie, but you have an amazing mouth. I’m not going near it again until we have a whole lot more time and freedom, and you have the reassurance you want.” He bent, scooped up the briefcase she’d knocked to the floor when she attacked him and withdrew a green-and-white pharmacy bag. “Shall we?”

  The knowledge that he thought her mouth was amazing gave her the courage to nod. “Okay. Let’s do the blood one first and get it over with. Where are the directions?”

  “I’ve done this before.” He opened the box and handed her the instruction sheet. “It’s not as intimidating as it looks, trust me.”

  Trust him? She could do that. Resisting him was the hard part. It was a damned good thing they only had two weeks together. The way J.T. slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side as they scanned the directions told her this man could definitely become her addiction.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “I’m ready if you are.”

  He extended his palm. “Go for it, doc.”

  Holding his finger steady with one hand, she shook out the antiseptic swab and used it to slowly, methodically wipe his finger.

  “You, uh, you do that well.”

  She had the feeling he wasn’t talking about her cleaning ability.

  “Now we have to let it dry.” She set the wipe back on the napkin she’d spread out as her work area, but didn’t let go of his finger. He was her anchor. As long as she had hold of him, she’d be fine.

  “I ran into your mother-in-law on my way here.”

  She clenched his finger hard enough to make him wince. At least now she understood the desperation in his face when he first appeared at the door.

  “Sorry. I take it she talked to you?”

  “Talked at me is more like it.”

  She forced out a long and slow breath. “How bad was it?”

  “Not all bad. She had some valid points.” He touched her cheek. “She’s worried about you.”

  “She’s mostly worried that I’ll run off and take the kids away from her. Or do something to disgrace Glenn’s memory.”

  “I think she really does care what happens.”