Suddenly One Summer

by Barbara Freethy

  “And they all lived happily ever after,” Reid said, shutting the book.

  “Night, Reid,” Lexie whispered, then she rolled onto her side and tucked her hand under her chin. She was asleep in a second.

  Jenna covered Lexie up, turned on a nightlight and a monitor, and then ushered Reid out of the room. She closed the door behind them and followed Reid down the hall and into the living room. “You were great with Lexie.”

  He shrugged. “She’s a good kid. It was the least I could do. I wish I could do more.”

  “You said you were raised in foster care. What happened to your parents, Reid? Did they die?”

  “No, they disappeared.” Reid dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, rocking back on his heels. “My father took off before I was born. I never met him.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She bailed on me a few years later. She took me to a church one day.” He gave a bitter smile. “And I thought it was a good sign. We knelt down at a pew in the back. She bowed her head, said some prayers I guess. Then she told me to stay there and she’d be right back. Five hours later I was still waiting when the priest came to lock up the church.”

  She caught her breath at the look of bitter betrayal in his eyes and her heart tore for the little boy who’d been abandoned without a word. “I’m so sorry, Reid.” No wonder he’d wanted to be a dragon. He’d had a lot of anger and nowhere to put it. “Did you ever see her again?”

  “About a year later. She came to find me because she wanted to get her child welfare money back. Unfortunately, the judge didn’t think she was a fit mother and left me where I was. I was furious at the time. I wanted to be with her. I believed in her even after everything she’d done. I was a fool.”

  “You were a child.”

  “After that, I saw her a few times over the years. She’d try to get clean, but she always fell back into the drugs.”

  “So who raised you?”

  “No one, really. I lived in a half dozen homes. I wasn’t a very popular kid; I kept trying to run away to find my mother.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Ten, twelve years ago…she could be dead for all I know.”

  “Don’t you want to know? You’re a journalist. I’m sure you could find out.”

  “I’m done looking for her. Sometimes you have to cut your losses.”

  She nodded, understanding him a little more. “Do you want to sit down for a few minutes?”

  He hesitated. “Why?”

  She smiled. “Because there’s more to say.” She walked over to the couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside her.

  He came over, but sat in the armchair across from her. “Okay, here’s the deal—you get two more questions; that’s it.”

  “That deal really didn’t stop you,” she reminded him. “You’ve asked about a hundred questions since then.”

  He smiled back at her. “All I have to say is, choose your words carefully.”

  “Fine. How did you get from foster homes and poverty to reporting for major newspapers? That’s an amazing feat.”

  “I knew that I would have to get whatever I was going to have in life myself. I wanted to be in the newspaper business for a long time. I wanted to be someone that people had to listen to, that they couldn’t ignore. I wanted the power of the press. And I got it.”

  “Why did you give it up?”

  “A lot of reasons.”

  “Be specific.”

  He stared down at the floor, then raised his gaze to hers. “I was doing a story on counterfeit drugs. It’s a booming business, and a dangerous one. People are dying because they’re getting placebos or watered-down medication. One of my best friends, Allison, was a nurse at a hospital suspected of using fake drugs. I asked her to help me get the inside story. She dug up some information for me over a period of weeks. Then one day when she was leaving work, she was run down by a car. No one saw the driver. She died a few hours later. It was made to look like an accident, but it was murder.”

  She was shocked. What had happened was horrifying.

  “Allison was killed because I involved her in my story—my all-important story that I had to break before anyone else,” Reid continued. “She was a nurse, not an undercover spy, and I shouldn’t have used her that way.”

  Jenna wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but she knew he wouldn’t hear her. Instead she got up and knelt in front of him, putting her hands over his. She could feel the tension in his body, and was sorry she’d made him talk about something so painful.

  His fingers closed around hers. “When I asked Allison for help, she jumped at the chance. She told me that I always kept her at a distance, that I never let her into my life. And now she’s dead.” His gaze bored into hers. “Maybe you should be pushing me away, Jenna. I might be as dangerous to you as Brad.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “I told you to trust me. The last person who did that is dead.”

  “So Allison’s death is the reason why you’re punishing yourself—working for a tabloid, pretending not to care anymore what you write.”

  “I’m not pretending,” he said flatly. “I don’t care.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said, holding his gaze. “Maybe you didn’t before. Maybe you managed to get through most of the year believing that you were done with your old life. But then you came here—and I made you care.” She saw the truth in his eyes. “You met me, and you sensed a story. I made you want to do real news again. I made you want to help someone.”

  “You give yourself a lot of credit.”

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  He stared back at her, the air between them thick with tension. “You had to jump off that damn pier. I couldn’t believe anyone would do that to save a stranger. But you did. Even with everything you were trying to protect, you still couldn’t walk away. Just like you couldn’t walk away when your sister asked for help, when Lexie was hiding in the park, when you threw away your entire life to protect your niece. You amaze me, Jenna.”

  “You amaze me, too. You’ve had a difficult life, but you’ve accomplished a lot. And you did it all on your own.”

  “I just survived, that’s all. Don’t make it more than it is.”

  She shook her head. “You really don’t see how great you are.”

  “Jenna—”

  “No. Don’t try to talk me out of my opinion. I can be stubborn when I have to be.”

  He smiled. “I’ve noticed.”

  “I do trust you, Reid. Nothing you’ve said has changed that. I’m sorry about what happened to your friend. But from what you’ve told me about her, I suspect she wanted to help not just because you asked her, but because of the people she wanted to protect. She was a nurse. She knew how dangerous counterfeit drugs could be. I’m sure you saved a lot of lives with that article, with her investigation. It wasn’t all for nothing.”

  “I only snagged the small fish, and stopped one outlet. It wasn’t nearly enough. I thought when I became a reporter that I could change the world, but the only world I changed was that of my best friends. And I destroyed it. I quit the day after she died.”

  It saddened Jenna to see the pain in his eyes, the guilt weighing him down. He’d loved only a handful of people in his life, and Allison had obviously been one of them. “I understand why you quit, even though I might not agree. You had to regroup. And now you’re ready again. You’re going to help me. We’re going to be partners.”

  At her words, a mix of emotions ran through his eyes. He was fighting her and himself as hard as he could. He’d been alone a long time and had built an impenetrable wall around his heart. He didn’t know how to believe in people. He didn’t know how to believe in himself. But she saw what he couldn’t see—a strong, intelligent, articulate, determined man who could make a difference in a lot of people’s lives, including hers.

  As the silence lengthened, the tension between them built. The anger and g
rief were replaced by something else, something that was far more dangerous.

  “I don’t want to just be your partner,” Reid said.

  His words stole the breath from her chest. There it was—on the table, front and center. Her stomach clenched at the new spark in his eyes, at the silent question in his gaze. He was giving her a choice, asking her if she really wanted to cross that line. She told herself that she didn’t. She told herself that the best thing to do was tell him to go—but the words wouldn’t come. She was tired of lying, tired of pretending. Maybe she needed to be honest for this one moment.

  But Reid wasn’t giving her the moment. He was on his feet, heading for the door.

  Damn him! He could never wait two seconds for an answer. Just like the night before, he was running out on her. Was he quitting on her? Was this the end of their alliance, or just the end of this night? He always had to have the last word, and she was sick of it.

  She raced over to the open door. Reid was halfway down the walk. “That’s the second time you’ve left in the middle of a conversation,” she called after him. “I don’t like it.”

  He paused and glanced back at her.

  “You don’t want me to finish the conversation,” he returned.

  “Don’t tell me what I want. I know what I want.”

  He hesitated for a long second, and then walked slowly back to the house, stopping a few inches away from her. “What’s that?”

  She drew in a deep breath, feeling as if she were about to leap off a cliff. “You.”

  His eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Jenna…”

  “Have I scared you?” she asked, feeling more reckless with each passing second.

  “Hell, yes,” he murmured huskily. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Stay.” She held out her hand and for a very long moment, she worried that he wouldn’t take it, but then his fingers curled around hers. She led him back into the house. He shut the door, threw the deadbolt, and then hauled her into his arms.

  There was no slow buildup to his kiss, no tentative touch or hesitant caress. Reid took her mouth as if he owned it. His kiss was hot, demanding, intense. She felt his fire burning into her as his tongue tangled with hers. His hands were in her hair, holding her head where he wanted it. His lips moved from her mouth, roaming across her face, her cheek, her jaw. He nipped at the curve of her neck, a delicious sting of passion.

  Then his hands dropped to her waist, his fingers bringing heat to her bare midriff. He helped her out of her sweater, their hands colliding as they both reached for the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it over her head.

  He smiled as he saw her hot red bra. “So this is what you’ve been hiding. Sexy underwear. I like it.” His eyes darkened as he gazed into hers. “I like you.”

  “I like you, too,” she said.

  He ran his lips along her collarbone, then his mouth slid lower. He opened her bra, flicking aside the cup, and feasted on her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth. A rush of desire shot straight through her body. She ran her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. He moved from one breast to the other, teasing, tantalizing her with the promise of more.

  Her legs weakening, she slid her hands under his T-shirt, running her fingers across the strong, supple muscles of his back. He lifted his head to remove his T-shirt. She pulled off her bra and moved into his embrace, loving the feel of the fine hairs of his chest brushing across her breasts.

  He kissed her again, his finger reaching for the snap on her jeans. She returned the favor, wanting him completely naked, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, no barriers between them.

  Stumbling out of their jeans, they made it to the living room couch. Jenna fell back against the soft cushions as Reid came down on top of her, his hand palming her breast, his lips running across her jawline, his leg separating her thighs. She ran her hand along his bicep, cupping the back of his head as she pulled his mouth back to hers.

  “We’ve got to slow down,” Reid muttered.

  “Not this time,” she said.

  Desire flared in his eyes, and he ripped open the condom he snagged from his jeans. She helped him slide it on, and then he was moving on top of her, inside of her—everywhere she wanted him to be.

  NINETEEN

  Reid stared at the shadows that danced off the living room wall, the moonlight coming through a slit in the curtains. His heart had yet to go back to an even beat, but that might have something to do with Jenna’s sweet, naked body in his arms. He pulled the afghan off the back of the couch, covering them both. Jenna’s cheek rested against his chest. She could probably hear the pounding of his heart. She had one leg thrown over his and one arm around his waist, as if she didn’t intend to let him up any time soon.

  He’d imagined making love to Jenna since he’d first met her, but the real thing had been better than any dream. Her understated appearance hid a passionate nature, a generous lover, a caring heart. He never should have let her get this close. She made him want things he couldn’t have. She made him want to believe in possibilities, in a future, but there was no future for the two of them. Was there?

  She stirred and he tightened his arm around her. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet, either.

  Jenna lifted her head and gave him a thoughtful smile. “I can hear you thinking. And the answer is no, it wasn’t a mistake.”

  “That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

  “Yes, it was.” She pressed a kiss to his chest.

  He smiled. “Okay, maybe.”

  “I’m not expecting anything.”

  “That’s good, because I don’t have anything to offer.”

  “You sell yourself short,” she murmured, her eyes filling with tender concern.

  Her words echoed what Allison had said to him so many times. But Allison had been wrong, and so was Jenna. He’d once believed that things could work out. Every time he’d gone to a new foster home, he’d thought that it would be the one, that he’d have a family again. But it had never happened. He wasn’t destined to belong to anyone.

  “It was just sex.” He wanted to make it abundantly clear where they stood. He knew the statement would annoy her; with any luck she’d get pissed enough to throw him out.

  His words only seemed to amuse her. “Nice try. I’ve had ‘just sex.’ That wasn’t it.”

  He shrugged. “So I’m good. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  She made a little face at him. “Okay, so you don’t sell yourself short in every area—just where affection is concerned.”

  “I don’t believe you ever had ‘just sex.’ You’re not the type.”

  “He was another musician, a violinist. Let’s just say he was better with an actual instrument.”

  Reid grinned and ran a hand through her hair. He didn’t want to like her so much, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Her unpretentiousness was very likable. “What about other guys?”

  “There have been a few, but I don’t have a long scorecard. I never had time for relationships. What about you? Any serious romances in your life?”

  “You know, this is my least favorite part of the after-sex moments,” he said.

  She laughed. “You gotta take the bad with the good.”

  “You already reached your limit on questions.”

  “Fine—I know the answer anyway. You don’t do serious. And for the most part I don’t do casual sex, but this doesn’t feel casual. Don’t get all freaked out on me,” she hastily warned. “I went into this with my eyes open. I have no regrets.”

  He frowned. No matter what she said, he suspected she would still want more than he could give her. But he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss.

  A shrill scream rent the air. Jenna jumped, taking the blanket with her as she stumbled to her feet. Lexie screamed again, a sound of pure terror.

  “Wait!” Reid said as Jenna ran, but she didn’t pay him any attention. He grabbed his jeans, hopping into them
as he ran, wishing Jenna had waited two seconds. There could be someone in Lexie’s room.

  When he got to the door he saw Lexie thrashing in bed, fighting with the covers as if she were battling an impossibly strong assailant. She alternated between screaming and sobbing, her face dark red, sweat matting her hair against her head.

  Jenna grabbed Lexie in her arms and held on tight. Pressing Lexie’s head against her breast, Jenna said, “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe. I’m here. No one can hurt you.”

  Lexie’s fear was so at odds with her usual personality that Reid had almost forgotten what she’d been through. Now he could see the trauma written all over her terrified face. During the day she could distract herself with friends and fun, but in the dark her nightmares caught up to her. Lexie’s father had damaged her for life, and he needed to pay for what he’d done, how he’d destroyed his family.

  Jenna held on to Lexie, murmuring soothing words over and over as the two of them rocked in the middle of the bed. There was love on Jenna’s face, and a determination that made his gut clench. Jenna was something else—warrior mom, loyal sister, incredible friend—maybe she was the one who sold herself short.

  She deserved better than him.

  The thought rocketed through his head.

  Turning, he went back down the hall and finished dressing. He gathered Jenna’s clothes together and took them into her bedroom. She appeared in the doorway a moment later, the afghan still wrapped around her.

  “You’re leaving,” she said, disappointment in her dark blue eyes.

  “I’m sure you don’t want me here when Lexie wakes up in the morning.” He had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out for her.

  “Lexie won’t be up before eight, maybe later,” Jenna said softly. “You really don’t have to leave now.”

  “Does that happen a lot—the nightmares?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Jenna nodded, drawing the blanket more tightly around her. “They’re better now, usually no more than once a night. In the beginning she slept with me constantly, but eventually I got her into her own room, thinking that we needed to live a more normal life so she wouldn’t feel so afraid. Maybe it was a mistake.”