by Toni Blake
True, yet it didn’t make Mike feel any better.
After some computer work at his desk—including sending out the alerts Walter mentioned—Mike powered down and got ready to head home. And his eyes fell on Anna.
It was a somber end to a shitty day, and the sight of that little white dress reminded him once more: I can’t really save anybody.
And if he did as Walter suggested, if he slid her picture into his desk drawer, it would only make him feel worse. Because to let go was…to give up. To stop hoping anything about her disappearance would ever be discovered.
And he knew that with every damn year that passed, with every damn day, it became less and less likely any new information ever would turn up—so a smart man would finally start finding a way to let it go.
But the problem was—Mike never stopped needing to know. Never. He never stopped yearning for answers. He never stopped thinking and wondering and lamenting it all. And he knew he never would—not until his dying day.
Like the last time they’d gone to the park, Tessa and Amy picked Rachel up at Edna’s. And again, they had insisted it was a gym shoe sort of day. Except for working out, Rachel didn’t really have gym shoe days in Chicago, so it was a hard reality to grasp. “But would it hurt anybody if I wore some attractive boots?” she’d asked Tessa.
“No, but you might hurt yourself. We’ll be climbing up metal bleachers and walking around in dirt. Wear the gym shoes, for God’s sake.”
So she finally had, along with jeans and a fitted bright yellow tee with flowers embroidered on the front. “How’s this?” she’d asked the girls. “Casual enough for ya?”
“Perfect,” Tessa droned, clearly exasperated, as Amy said, “Who cares—let’s go!”
“All right, all right,” she replied, adding one of Edna’s favorites: “Simmer down.”
When they reached the park a few minutes later, the atmosphere was a lot different than their previous visit—the parking lot was filled, and cars lined the road. They got lucky, taking the spot of someone just leaving, near the ball fields.
“So, Sue Ann’s husband plays on one of these teams?” Rachel asked as they got out. Sue Ann had mentioned at the café that she and Sophie would be here.
“Yep,” Amy said as they started toward the crowd. “Jeff plays with Logan and Adam and Mike.”
“Mike,” Rachel repeated dryly, then halted in place. “No one could have mentioned to me before now that Mike is involved in this?”
“What difference does it make?” Tessa asked, shrugging. “I mean, since it’s just sex between you and him, as you keep claiming.”
Rachel ignored Tessa’s dubious look and glanced back and forth between her friends, feeling uncharacteristically sheepish. “Well, I don’t want him to think I’m here…because of him.”
“You’re not,” Amy said, looping her arm through Rachel’s. “You’re here with us. Just three fun chicks hanging out in the sun.” Then she motioned around them to the busy park. “And besides, you’re not exactly the only person here—he might not even notice you.”
But why didn’t that prospect make her feel any better, darn it?
“And what if he did think that? Would that be so bad?” Tessa asked. “I mean, you guys have had sex—that kind of proves you don’t mind being around him.”
True enough. But she still felt weird about him knowing that. Especially after the big” See ya,” which she promptly reminded her friends of as they wove through the people standing around the softball diamonds.
“So this is where he ‘sees ya,’” Amy said. “No big deal. That’s what you keep telling us about you and him, right?”
“Right,” Rachel agreed at the reminder, and it was a good point. So why was her stomach churning?
On the opposite side of the fence, guys were cheering each other on, and yelling warnings to be ready on third and stuff like that—when the girls spotted Sue Ann excitedly waving them over to a spot low on the bleachers. “Thank God you guys are here,” she said when they reached her. “Sophie and I spread out all our stuff to save you seats, but I think people wanted to kill me.”
The three of them sat down and Rachel met Sophie, a pretty little blonde who looked remarkably like Sue Ann had back in the first grade.
And that’s when it hit Rachel—she’d known these women that long, since the first grade! Who could she say that about in Chicago? Something about it seemed…well, it just made her feel like…like maybe she belonged here a little more than she’d once thought. And it wasn’t a horrible feeling.
Sue Ann instantly began to regale them about the tournament, explaining it was down to four teams and “our guys just need to beat the Crestview Fire Department to play for the championship” of what was—according to the banners across the back of the dugouts—the 7th Annual Destiny Fall Softball Tournament.
“Our guys are in the outfield right now,” Sue Ann went on—and that’s when Rachel spotted Officer Romeo at shortstop. Not surprisingly, he was yelling at the first baseman, who apparently hadn’t done something as well as Mike wanted. He wore long khaki cargo shorts that looked like they’d seen better days, and a red T-shirt with the sleeves cut out and the McMillan’s Hardware logo stretching across his chest in white. His thick hair was messy, he hadn’t shaved, and the muscles on his arms glistened tan with sweat. And despite all that, damn it, he still looked good.
As a player from the other team got up to bat, Mike crouched into position, legs apart, knees bent, and Rachel could almost feel his intensity from her place on the bleachers. She could tell he took this seriously.
Then, with his eyes still on the batter, he yelled, “Becker, guy on second’s lookin’ to steal—watch your back.”
“Becker” was Adam, on the pitcher’s mound, also looking shockingly good in old clothes and sweat. For her entire adult life, Rachel had been attracted to men in finely tailored suits, but this was starting to change things. Next, she located Logan on third, and Sue Ann pointed out her handsome husband, Jeff, in right field.
As the game progressed, Mike continued yelling at people—but he seemed skilled at the game, making several impressive stops, throwing a few guys out at first, and even hitting a home run. Rachel discovered, unexpectedly, that she enjoyed watching, and she supposed it shouldn’t surprise her to find out Mike Romo was Mr. Competitive.
It was in the sixth of seven innings that he finally caught sight of her in the stands. She knew the second it happened—back in shortstop position, he lifted his gaze from the batter to her, and then his eyes took on that sexy, bedroomy look again. Or at least that’s what she thought, since he was pretty far away—but something about it tightened her chest and sent a surge of awareness to her panties, just like every time he looked at her.
That’s when the batter hit a line drive—right past Mike.
She saw more than heard him mutter, “Shit,” suddenly drawn back into the game as the center fielder was forced to chase down the ball, the batter running to second while a guy on third scored.
And as everyone around her appeared downcast to see the other team bring in a run that tied the game, Rachel could only smile inside. She’d driven Mike Romo to distraction—and despite herself, she liked it.
The skies were clouding over, a cool breeze blowing in, by the time the team sponsored by McMillan’s Hardware beat the Bleachers Sports Bar team in the championship game just after five o’clock. The victory felt particularly sweet to Mike since he knew some of the guys on the other team and they were big trash-talkers. Thank God he’d gotten his game face back on after Rachel had caused him to fuck up—damn, what was it about that woman?
“Glad we won, dude,” Logan said, dropping his mitt in the dirt near the bleachers, “so you can quit acting like an asshole.”
“He’s not acting,” Rachel called over from where she still sat with her friends—the rest of the crowd was already gone and only the small group of women remained.
Meeting her gaze across the space
that separated them, he almost smiled at her silly, smart-ass comment. Jeff had made a beeline for Sue Ann and Sophie, and Adam had joined the group, too—so it only made sense for Mike and Logan to meander that way as well. Especially since Adam kept saying how attractive Rachel was, and something about that got under Mike’s skin.
“What’s up, Farris?” he asked, approaching.
She shrugged, smiled. “Not much. Amy and Tessa dragged me out here to watch you act like a Neanderthal. But it was refreshing to see that you treat everybody that way and don’t reserve it just for me.”
“Nope, he’s an equal opportunity jerk,” Logan said, but Mike let it roll off his back. He knew he was a hard-ass on the softball field and that he pissed off his teammates sometimes—but he got into the game and liked to win.
“A jerk with a big trophy,” Mike pointed out. Then he looked back to Rachel and gave her a small grin. “And you know I’m not always a jerk. In fact, I’m nicer to you than most people.”
“Then I feel bad for most people,” she informed him—but she still looked flirtatious. The now absent sun had pinkened her cheeks and he thought her unusually pretty with her hair mussed from a breezy fall day outdoors. “Now I see why you need Edna’s floppy hat,” he teased, pointing at her face.
“I have very sensitive skin,” she replied. Which he already knew. From touching her. A different kind of sensitive than she was talking about, but he couldn’t help remembering the way she reacted to just the simplest little touch or kiss.
“Hey,” Jeff announced to the small crowd, “we’re going to the Whippy Dip if anybody else wants to come. It’s their last weekend of the season.” The ice cream stand on the edge of town had been a summer hangout in their youth.
“And they have way more than just ice cream now,” Sue Ann said to Rachel, assuming—correctly—that she wouldn’t know. “They make good burgers and sandwiches, and Sophie loves their chicken fingers.”
Tessa shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
“I say we all go,” Logan suggested. “We champions can celebrate our victory with our adoring fans.” He motioned to the girls for the last part with his usual grin.
“All right, Whippy Dip it is,” Adam said.
And that’s when a loud clap of thunder sounded, the skies opened, and it began to pour.
“Son of a bitch,” Mike muttered as he and the guys rushed to grab up the mitts and bats they’d each brought.
Getting drenched in a matter of seconds, the group began to scatter, all headed to their cars. Mike heard Sue Ann yell, “See you all there!” Then he saw Rachel running behind Amy and Tessa toward the parking lot.
And that’s when he realized—he couldn’t let her go with them.
Because he wanted her with him.
Even if it was just for a ride to the Whippy Dip. It had been too long since he’d seen her.
Chasing after her, he soon closed a fist around her wrist, holding her back from following her friends. “Come with me,” he murmured, then pulled her toward his pickup, both of them still running to escape the rain.
He opened the driver’s side door and helped her hurry in, then threw his bat and glove in the extended cab behind the seat.
Shutting them in a few seconds later—the rain buffeting the truck on all sides—made him feel suddenly secluded with her. And it gave him the fierce urge not to wait a second longer to do what he wanted to do.
His heart still beating fast from the run, he turned, lifted his hand to her wet face, and kissed her with all the passion he’d apparently been holding in all week. It roared through him suddenly now, like some kind of avalanche, needing to get out. He pressed his tongue between her lips, heard her pretty sigh, and went instantly hard.
When the kiss finally ended, their faces remained close, and all was still but for the rain still washing down the windows around them—until she whispered, breathlessly, maybe even a little nervously, “We should, um, probably catch up with the others.” A glimpse of the sweet, vulnerable Rachel when he’d least expected it.
“Uh, yeah,” he murmured, nodding, brought back to the moment at hand—then he started the truck and turned on the wipers. The rain continued falling in a deluge outside.
And inside…damn, he was just beginning to realize her top was entirely soaked and that he could see the lace of her bra, as well as the shadows of pretty, dark pink nipples jutting through. And his chest tightened in a way he was quickly coming to recognize. It was the she-makes-me-crazy way.
By the time they reached the edge of the parking lot, he was throbbing behind his zipper. And he wanted to kiss her some more. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her. So when he pulled out onto the road, he turned the wrong way.
“Uh, what about the ice cream?” she asked, looking surprised.
Letting his gaze rake down over her, he drew it back up to her deep blue eyes and said, “I’m in the mood for something else.”
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring.
William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet
Twelve
Mike’s words trickled down Rachel’s spine. She was in the mood for something besides ice cream, too. Darn it, she was always in the mood whenever she even thought about Mike, and watching him all afternoon had only made it worse. And his kiss just now had turned her completely inside out.
But she still couldn’t help feeling a little indignant over the whole “See ya” thing. And despite herself, even if she’d told herself all she wanted from him was sex…well, they’d shared enough now that she didn’t want him to think she would just be at his beck and call. She hadn’t come to the park today expecting to get drawn back into his sexy web. So she heard herself begin to argue with him. “Well, what about the others?”
“They’ll figure out we’re not coming,” he said, eyes on the road. It continued pouring outside.
“Well…what if I’m in the mood for ice cream?”
“I’ll change your mind real fast,” he promised.
Hmm. “How?” She crossed her arms, the move shoving her breasts upward.
And even while driving through the torrent, he glanced over at her—and her whole body tingled as his gaze rose from her boobs to her face. His eyes were half shut, and when he spoke, his voice came out raspy. “I still haven’t shown you what I can do with my tongue. And I’ve got far better uses for it than ice cream, honey.”
Oh. My. Her inner thighs fluttered, and she bit her lip as he peered back through the windshield to concentrate on driving.
Still, fluttering thighs didn’t obliterate the “See ya” incident. “That’s…intriguing, but you can’t just have your way with me any time you please, you know.”
Next to her, he only let out an exasperated breath. “Since when? You didn’t seem to mind the last two times I had my way with you.”
Rachel let out an annoyed breath at his shocking-even-if-typical bluntness. But at the same time, her cheeks warmed—because he made sense. Since when did she play hard to get? Oh hell. Maybe, when all was said and done, the “See ya” thing had just plain hurt her feelings. And maybe she just wanted to feel a little bit…valued by him. Whether she liked it or not. “Well, I took your advice and quit overworrying our…situation,” she lied. “But just because this is a totally casual fling, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy being…wined and dined a little. Or something. You know?”
In response, Mike simply shook his head, looking completely bewildered. “Hell, you confound me, woman.”
“Confound?” Rachel blinked. “Color me surprised—I didn’t see a guy like you using the word confound.”
He kept his eyes on the road, trying to navigate through the heavy rain, as he grumbled, “Well, it’s probably a first. And you’re damn worthy of it. Because one minute you tell me you can’t have sex with me because you hate Destiny—or something idiotic like that—and the next you decide it’s a-okay. Then you say you don’t want romance, and now you’re telling me you do. Just tell me wh
at the hell it is you want, Farris, and I’ll give it to you.”
Hmm. What a request. And there were so many ways she could answer—so many different things she desired. She wanted Edna and the orchard. She wanted more of what she’d gotten from Mike after the picnic—that surprising sweetness. She wanted to keep being the tough chick who had it all under control and didn’t get attached to men or cats or grandmas or anything else that felt impractical in her life. But right now, her breasts ached, and the juncture of her thighs pulsed madly, and the heat flowing through her body seemed a lot more powerful than any of those vague, useless thoughts. So she drew in her breath, pressed her palm to the wet khaki covering his thigh, then slid her touch upward until it covered his erection. And he was definitely—delightfully—erect.
Mike let out a low groan that only fueled her longing. “Giving you that, honey,” he murmured as he drove on, “will be my pure pleasure.”
“Just…remember what I said,” she told him, her voice coming out breathy as she turned toward him in the truck, getting caught up in her own want, pressing her breasts to his muscular biceps.
“About, uh, wining and dining?” She liked that his words came out strained, too, because she was lightly massaging the column between his legs now. “Not a lot of that going on in Destiny, Farris, but if it’s what you want, it’s what you’ll get.”
That’s more like it. Not that she was really thinking about wining and dining anymore—she was thinking about the rock-hard length of flesh beneath her hand. She squeezed him more fervently through the shorts, and he muttered, “Jesus, woman, you’re gonna cause an accident.”
She bit her lip. “Should I stop?”
“Hell no.”
Rachel hadn’t had a chance to ponder where they were going, but it still surprised her when they pulled up a sloping gravel drive to a large white farmhouse with a black barn and several outbuildings in back. The house possessed simple lines—a full covered porch stretching across the front, one gable in the center with a small diamond-shaped window in the eave, the other gridded windows situated symmetrically. But the thing that surprised her was that it seemed like far too big of a house for only him.
