Flamingo Diner

by Sherryl Woods

  She decided, for the sake of her own peace of mind, that it was skill. After all, it had been years since they’d spent much time together. She certainly didn’t know Matt, not his heart and soul, the way two adults should know each other if there was anything truly meaningful between them. And if she didn’t know him, how could he possibly know her? So it was definitely skill, she concluded, satisfied with the logic of it.

  Then she rolled over and saw him studying her with an intense look that surely could see straight into her heart. “You scare the daylights out of me,” she admitted, even as she curled back into all that reassuring strength.

  Surprise lit his eyes. “Why would you be scared of me?”

  “You make me feel things I’d never expected to feel. It’s almost as if we’ve been together forever, when the truth is that we hardly know each other.”

  “How can you say that? We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

  “That’s different from knowing each other as adults,” she said. “You went away when I was just a teenager. By your own admission, you were still a little wild and reckless then. Now you’re a thoroughly respectable member of community, the police chief, no less.”

  He grinned. “Disappointed in me?”

  “Not a chance,” she said, realizing it was true. All the changes in Matt had been for the better. But this wasn’t all about him. “I’ve changed, too. I’m hardly the same innocent teenager I was when you last saw me. I realized when my father died that I was still naive about a lot of things. If I didn’t know my own dad, if I couldn’t see through the facade he was obviously putting on for me when we talked on the phone, how could I possibly claim to know anyone?”

  “You answered your own question,” Matt told her, his touch gentle as he brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “Your father was putting on a show for your benefit. It was meant to fool you. It fooled a lot of people.”

  “Or maybe I just heard what I wanted to hear, because if I’d realized how much pain he was in, I would have had to deal with it,” she said with a hint of the self-loathing she’d been feeling. “Maybe I was blind, because I wanted to be.”

  “Don’t talk crazy. All these years haven’t changed who you are,” he insisted. “You were a kind, generous girl and you’ve grown into a kind, generous woman. You love your family. If you’d had any inkling about what was going on with your dad, you would have come home to help.”

  “Andy tried to tell me. I dismissed it. He’s still angry with me about that.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Matt reassured her. “He knows what happened isn’t your fault.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?”

  “Because I do know you.”

  “What do you think you know about me?” She honestly wanted to know.

  “That you’re funny and sweet, stubborn and sexy.” He grinned. “That last one I suspected years ago, but confirmed only last night.”

  “Good thing you waited,” she said, thinking of how her father would have reacted years ago if Matt had made a move on her. He’d been tough enough on the boys she had dated, all of whom had come from respectable families.

  “Yeah, your father would have strung me up if I’d laid a finger on you,” Matt said. “I got that message loud and clear.” A shadow crossed his face. “I’d like to think he’d be happy about seeing us together now. In a way this time we have to rediscover each other is a gift from him.”

  Unexpected tears welled up in Emma’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I can’t regret what’s happened between us, but I wish something else had brought us together.”

  Matt wiped the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Me, too, darlin’. Me, too.”

  Emma sighed and settled against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. In an odd way, this truly had been her father’s gift, and not entirely in the way Matt thought. True, her father’s death had brought her back to Winter Cove so that she could discover this sublime feeling of being cherished, but it had also brought a man into her life who was strong and steady, qualities she’d always counted on in her father.

  With Matt’s arms around her, she didn’t feel nearly as alone and frantic as she’d felt when she’d arrived weeks ago. Maybe if she hadn’t just learned the bitter lesson that nothing lasted forever, she’d be a little more willing to see where these new feelings took them.

  As it was, Emma was grateful for right here and right now. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself.

  Matt didn’t want to make too much of what had happened between him and Emma. He knew she didn’t trust him or herself when it came to love or commitment. How could she when a man she’d idolized had ripped his entire family apart in one instant of insanity? Don’s selfish, desperate act would have repercussions for years to come with the people he’d left behind. They might be functioning far better now than they had been right after his death, but Emma, her mother and her brothers would bear the scars forever. They would question everything, every relationship. Finding the faith to trust in love wouldn’t come easily to any of them.

  If Matt could keep Emma right here, in his bed, he might be able to block out reality for a time, but sooner or later it was bound to intrude and then what? Would he lose her? Would he have to watch her go back to her old life in Washington? In the time she’d been back he’d gotten used to building the rhythm of his days around glimpses of Emma. Would he have to say goodbye with a smile because that’s what love required, letting go? He didn’t even want to contemplate it.

  Instead, he rolled her onto her back and buried himself inside her yet again, taking his time, trying to imprint himself on her memory, the way she was burned into his. When she erupted into a spasm that rocked them both, he captured her cries with his mouth and tried not to let her see his fear.

  When the last shudder had died away, she sprawled beneath him, limp as a rag doll, an expression of pure contentment on her face.

  “Oh, my God,” she murmured with little energy. “I think you’ve stolen all my muscles and melted my bones. I doubt I’ll ever move again.”

  Matt grinned. “That could be good. At least I’d know where to find you at the end of the day.”

  “Unless you’re a lousy cop, you’ll always know where to find me.”

  “Not necessarily. I don’t know my way around D.C.,” he said, putting his greatest fear on the table.

  Her expression turned shuttered. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

  “Because?”

  “Because you want answers that I can’t give you.” She touched a finger to his lips. “You deserve them. I know that. I just don’t have them for you.”

  “How about I paint a scenario for you?” he asked.

  “A self-serving scenario?”

  He shook his head. “A mutually beneficial scenario.”

  “Is there such a thing?”

  “I think so. I do have your best interests at heart, Emma. I know you loved Washington. I know you think you belong there, but I’m not so sure that’s true. Not anymore.”

  “Because we’ve been having sex for most of the last twenty-four hours?” she scoffed.

  “No, because your life has changed dramatically. You’re not the girl who was desperate to run off to a big city to prove herself. You’ve done that. You’re an accomplished woman who needs more than a career to fulfill her. If you’re honest, you’ll admit that. Jobs are a dime a dozen. Even careers can change half a dozen times in a person’s lifetime and each one can be rewarding in its own way. But the one constant that really matters is having people in your life to share that with—family, friends, and, most important of all, someone who loves you, who aches for you, who understands you even when you don’t understand yourself.”

  Her expression hardened. “And you think you’re that person for me?”

  “I know I am,” he said with confidence. “Because when push comes to shove, I will let you go.”

  “How damn
ed noble of you,” she said, a real bite in her voice.

  “Not really,” he said, ignoring the note of bitterness and risking more disdain by adding, “Because I know you’ll come back. I’m counting on it.”

  She wrapped a sheet around her and climbed from the bed, her posture as regal as a queen’s. “Don’t,” she said, dragging the sheet behind her as she strode into the bathroom.

  “I’m right,” Matt murmured, mostly to himself after she’d slammed the door. “I have to be.”

  “Of all the unmitigated gall,” Emma grumbled as the hot water sluiced over her body, stirring every nerve ending as if it were more of Matt’s deft touches. “One night of incredible passion doesn’t mean I’m his forever. What kind of man leaps to that conclusion in this day and age? Independent women can have sex every night of the week, if they want to. With a different man each night, for that matter.”

  Not that she’d ever been one to do that, but Matt didn’t know that. For all he knew, she could be up in Washington sleeping with any male who caught her fancy and never giving any one of them a second thought. She sighed heavily. As if she’d ever do a thing like that. Who was she kidding? Not Matt, and certainly not herself.

  Last night had been the start of something amazing, or it could be, if she’d allow it. Apparently she was at least willing to consider the possibility, because after she’d showered she didn’t dress or take off as she’d originally intended. She borrowed one of Matt’s shirts and wandered downstairs, lost in thought.

  She was making coffee when the doorbell rang. She tried to ignore it. This wasn’t her home and Matt might prefer that whoever it was not discover her wandering around downstairs half-dressed while he was still upstairs taking a shower. The scene left little to the imagination.

  Still, it might be important, and it would serve him right if people started gossiping about the police chief. He was the one who’d have to live with it, not her. She would be gone from Winter Cove the very second she felt her family was back on its feet.

  “Let ’em talk,” she muttered en route to the door.

  Even though she figured the fallout was going to land on Matt, she took care to make sure that his shirt covered her adequately, before opening the door.

  “Surprise!” Kim said, a grin spreading across her face as she surveyed Emma’s scanty attire. “I guess you decided to take my advice, huh?”

  Emma stared at her friend in shock. “What are you doing here?”

  Kim ignored her testy tone and stepped right past her, curiosity written all over her face. “You invited me, remember? I played on my boss’s sympathy, got an extra day off, if you can believe that, and here I am. So where is he? I can’t wait to meet the guy who’s finally managed to get you looking all tousled and sexy.”

  Emma ignored the comment. “I thought your boss was a tyrant. I thought you were going to call and let me know when you could get away,” she protested. “You weren’t supposed to just show up, especially not here. You’ve caught me completely off guard.”

  Kim laughed, obviously unrepentant. “Yes, I can see that. Otherwise you’d never be answering a man’s front door dressed only in his shirt. Who were you expecting? Your mother, perhaps?”

  “Heaven forbid,” Emma said fervently, wondering why that particular thought hadn’t even crossed her mind before she’d flung open the door.

  “You say that as if you don’t think she knows where you are or what you’re up to. Who do you think sent me over here?” Kim inquired, barely containing her smile.

  Emma sank down on the sofa and groaned. “I never called home last night.”

  “Apparently Matt is considerably more considerate. He called.”

  Emma groaned again. Things were going from bad to worse. Her mother would make way too much of this.

  “Oh, stop worrying,” Kim admonished. “Your mother is pleased as punch. She thinks this means you’ll stick around Winter Cove a little longer.” Kim’s gaze searched hers. “Is that what it means?”

  “If I have any say over it, it does,” Matt said, standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, his hair still damp from his shower.

  He looked so impossibly sexy he took Emma’s breath away. Any woman who walked away from a man like that deserved to live out the rest of her life in lonely isolation.

  “It doesn’t,” Emma said very firmly. She had to make him see that he was wrong about them, about the future, pretty much about everything except how good they were in bed together.

  He gave her a peck on the lips, then said mildly, “We’ll see,” before walking over to grasp Kim’s hand and introduce himself.

  “You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Kim demanded protectively.

  “Not the way you mean,” he assured her, then turned his gaze on Emma. “But if she persists in ignoring all reason, I could be tempted to shake her.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get dressed,” she said, then thought better of leaving the two of them alone together. Kim was not above plotting with the enemy, if she considered it to be in Emma’s best interests. If only Emma had left after her shower, rather than deciding to stick around and have this out with Matt, she wouldn’t even be in this predicament right now. She would be safely back at home and Kim would be nowhere near the man who was trying to turn Emma’s world upside down. She scowled at them. “Then, again, maybe I’ll finish making coffee,” she said. “You two coming?”

  Matt grinned at her, clearly perfectly aware of what she was up to. “Maybe Kim and I should stay in here and get to know each other. It seems to me we might have a lot in common.”

  “You have nothing in common,” Emma declared fiercely. “Nothing!”

  “We have you,” Kim noted, watching the byplay with obvious amusement.

  “Like I said, a lot,” Matt said.

  Emma gave up, crossed the room and sank onto the sofa. She realized her mistake at once. Matt’s shirt might cover her decently while she was standing, but seated, she was way too exposed. Matt couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her very bare thighs. She frowned at him.

  “Then compare notes to your heart’s content,” she said airily. “I’ll be right here. I’ll be sure to correct you when you get it all wrong.”

  “Spoilsport,” Kim accused. She winked at Matt. “We might as well go into the kitchen, if she’s going to listen to every word we say.”

  Matt nodded. “I’ll make breakfast.”

  “You can cook?” Kim asked, taking his arm and leaving the room without so much as a backward glance toward Emma, her supposed best friend.

  “Not as well as Emma, but she has the day off,” he said. “Second day in a row. I think she’s getting the hang of it.”

  “It’s about time,” Kim said, then added something in an undertone that Emma couldn’t hear as they disappeared from view.

  Emma sat for a minute and seethed, then reluctantly followed them to protect her own interests.

  Ever since her father’s death she’d been feeling as if her life were teetering on the edge of a precipice. A few days ago, she’d almost started to believe she was finally pulling back from the brink. Now, in just the past ten minutes, she was pretty sure Kim and Matt had reached some sort of pact to see to it that she leaped straight on over the edge.

  17

  Rosa would have given anything to have Sylvia’s comforting presence beside her as she attended her second group session at St. Luke’s. It wasn’t as easy this time. She was trying to respond to Anne’s gently probing questions as honestly as she could, but she felt exposed, her emotions raw.

  “What kept you shut up in your room for weeks after Don died?” Anne asked.

  “Grief,” Rosa said at once, then faltered under the psychologist’s steady gaze. “Okay, anger.”

  “Dig deeper,” Anne coached. “Why were you so angry?”

  “Because he left me,” Rosa said. “He vowed to be with me forever, through good times and bad, and then he abandoned
all of us. He chose to leave us.”

  Anna nodded. “That would make most people angry,” she agreed. “Everyone here understands that, right?”

  The others nodded.

  “Was there anything else that made you angry?” Anne asked.

  Rosa faltered. Wasn’t her outrage at the abandonment enough? Wasn’t it justified? “I’m not sure what you mean.” she said, not quite meeting the psychologist’s steady gaze.

  “If he committed suicide, what does that say about the relationship the two of you had?” Anne pressed.

  The question ripped away the tender scab over her still raw wounds. “That I wasn’t enough for him,” she whispered. “That his children and I didn’t matter.”

  “And?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” she said furiously. “I spent my whole marriage being there for him. I was always the one he turned to, the one everyone around me turned to when there was a problem.” Her words were spilling out faster and faster, along with scalding tears. “But this time, when it mattered most, my own husband couldn’t turn to me. What does that tell you? It says all those years I spent with him were wasted, that I was useless.” As the words tumbled out, she felt her sense of self-worth disintegrating with them.

  “No,” Anne said gently, but firmly, regarding Rosa with compassion. “It tells me he wasn’t himself, that he was lost and didn’t know how to find his way back. It was about him, Rosa. His feelings, not you.”

  “No,” Rosa said, not ready to let herself off the hook. “It says I wasn’t capable of helping him.”

  “Absolutely not,” Nancy said fiercely, interrupting the exchange. When Rosa whirled on her, she said more quietly, “Don’t you see? Anne’s exactly right. His suicide wasn’t about you at all. It was about him and whatever misguided idea he had that drove him to it. Until you can accept that, you won’t be able to move on. I know because for a long time I tried to take responsibility for my mom’s death. I thought if I’d been stronger, she wouldn’t have felt the need to save me from her suffering.”