He pushed his seat back as far as it could go, giving her full access to him. Her gaze dropped to the erection swelling his jeans. He watched her pulse flutter in her neck. It matched the hard beat of his heart. There was hunger in her eyes when she looked up at him, but Clint had seen it before and felt the walls she’d thrown up between them. Knowing why she’d done so had him second-guessing every move he wanted to make. The choice had to be hers. The action had to be hers. Oh, he’d lure and dare her, make her want him enough to work past her fear, tempt and gently push her, even, but in the end, the lead role would be hers. Unless she said otherwise. He prayed for patience.
She shifted in her seat, coming to her knees. He slipped his arm around her waist when she leaned over the console, and cupped her hip. Parted lips took his. Her tongue slid deep, torching his soul. There was another shift, and then she was cradled in his lap. He loved the feel of her in his arms—a strong woman with lean muscles.
Sandy clutched his neck, holding tight as she deepened the kiss, rolling into him. Clint’s heart leaped. He brushed his fingers down her thigh, paused, and eased his hand between her knees but no farther. They were, after all, in public.
The moment ended all too soon. Sandy pulled away without a word and returned to the passenger seat.
“The leanest ground beef you can find. No onions. No mayo.” She wrapped her fingers around the door handle.
“Pickles okay? White or wheat buns?”
“Dill and whole grain.”
“You got it.” He leaned her way and took another kiss, simpler this time.
A smile backlit her dark-blue eyes. He’d do whatever he could to see it remained.
Clint tracked her progress to her car after she left his truck. Once she was inside and had started to back out, he left the parking lot and blocked the road as he’d promised. He waited until he was certain she was out of sight—no more than a minute, though it felt like five—then headed in the opposite direction for the store. No one followed.
He shopped quickly, anxious to be with her, to move forward. He was relieved to see no reporters parked outside her house—a small two-bedroom fixer-upper she worked on herself. She had the calloused hands to show for it too. Odd how much he liked that about her. One of many things he liked about her.
Sandy had let him know from the second they’d slipped into a private booth at the bar where they’d met that she was a strong, independent woman. “You got a problem with that, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”
Clint smiled, remembering the conversation. “Not at all, bright eyes. I like a woman who’s a good match for me.”
They’d kissed on it. Right then and there.
Sandy wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, to do hard work, or learn something new. Clint felt pride in her accomplishments and always looked forward to hearing and seeing her latest project, whether that was expanding her vegetable garden in the backyard or tearing out the bathroom tile and putting in new. Sometimes she even let him help with the renovations, had him do the heavy lifting. He loved working side by side. She’d made herself a quiet little nest, her home heavily insulated against neighborhood noise. Her garage was her workshop and filled with tools she’d found at bargain rates. The house needed work, and she was all in. He saw it now as giving her some measure of control and peace of mind when she needed it most, because while she was physically strong, her emotional strength had taken a hard hit. That she’d chosen to suffer in silence hurt.
Sandy had parked her car to one side of the driveway, leaving room for his truck. Clint chose to park at the curb instead. If, by chance, some ass got the notion to block her in, they’d have a way to leave.
The front door opened as he gathered the bag of groceries. She smiled and started his way. “Need some help?”
“I got it. It’s not much.” He clutched the paper bag in one arm and reached for her with the other. Sandy tucked into his embrace.
The sound of her cell phone tensed her shoulders. His too.
“It’s probably my mom again.” She pulled her phone from her shorts pocket. “She found out the hard way too. My family’s going nuts and making me nuts in the process.”
She swiped her thumb over the screen. The devastation on her face blotted out the sunshine.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She stuffed it back into her pocket.
“Bullshit. Tell me.” He hoped the demand came out softer than it sounded.
Tears flooded her eyes. “He’s not dead.” Her chin quivered. “The body in the house wasn’t Keith Randall. He’s still alive. And thanks to all those fucking reporters, the world knows I’m pregnant by my rapist. And now my rapist knows it too! It’s never going to stop! It’s never going to end!”
No, it wasn’t, and that scared him. If Clint got his hands on the bastard, he’d kill him. He’d killed for less before. He didn’t have a problem avenging Sandy. He’d lived in the desert his whole life. Clint knew where to hide a body so it would never be found. As for the child she carried—
That scared him too. He knew what his choice would be. But it wasn’t his choice to make. It was Sandy’s, and he’d support whatever that decision might be, whether he liked it or not.
“Come on.” Keeping her tucked against him, Clint steered her toward the house. “Let’s get you inside.”
Chapter Two
If someone had told Sandy six months ago she’d fall in love with a man she’d never had sex with, she would have laughed herself silly. But she sure as hell loved Clint Clifford. She clung to his side now as if her very life depended on it. God knew her sanity did.
She hadn’t been surprised to learn he was waiting for her outside the fire station. He’d want answers and an explanation. That’s the kind of man he was, and he deserved all that. She expected anger and yelling, him telling her that they were finished, not that he’d rescue her. Her heart reminded her of what she’d known from the minute she’d met him—Clint was a really great guy.
Sandy had wanted him from the second he’d smiled her way two months before—even if that hungry look in his eyes made her miss a shot to the side pocket a newbie could’ve made. She’d caught a fair amount of teasing about it, too, but never let her friends know she’d had her sights on the good-looking guy across the bar and not the game.
He’d met her standard test of this is who I am, buddy. His response and the hot kiss that followed told her Clint was definitely more than one-night-stand material. She’d intended to savor the moment, make him her little secret for a while. And so the dance between them began, slow and hot, getting to know each other a bit, taking their time, learning each other. The wait nearly killed her, but she knew when it happened, when they were finally naked and locked in each other’s arms, it was going to be so damn good.
Then it happened.
Terror filled her as the memories swamped her mind. Sandy buried her face against Clint’s chest and inhaled his scent in the hope that would help chase away the horror. She should have told him from the start. It wasn’t fair to hold back. But they were so new, more than friends but less than lovers. Sandy didn’t want to lose him. She thought she could handle it, get beyond what Keith had done to her. Each time she attempted to do so, the pain, humiliation, and the memory of that knife at her throat took over.
Poor Clint.
In the six weeks that followed what had happened, he’d taken her constant rejection well, never pressing the issue. She knew she’d frustrated him, maybe even made him angry. A lesser man would have hit the road by now. Clint stuck around, proving her assessment that he really was a great guy. He’d never know how much his presence comforted her shattered soul, how being with him gave her a peace and safety she couldn’t find anywhere else, not even in her own home. No matter how much she’d drowned herself in renovation projects.
She wished she’d told him about being raped from the start. Of course, that required words Sandy couldn’t formulate, then or now. Now, circumstan
ces rather than her conscience were forcing her to finally tell him the truth—and all the terror and heartbreak that went with it. She knew he’d walk out afterward. What man could possibly want to deal with damaged goods? And God, was she damaged.
Somehow Clint managed to get them inside the house without letting go of her. He walked as far as the sofa, left her long enough to put the perishables in her refrigerator, then sank down beside her and cradled her in his arms. She hated every second his arms weren’t around her. Clint was safety, security. Without him, what was left of her world would fall apart. So much for her claim to be strong and independent. She slipped onto his lap and curled against him.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He brushed his hand down her back, over her hip, her leg, then to her feet, where he pulled off her sneakers. “Talk to me, Sandy. Tell me why in the world you didn’t let me know. I want to be with you. Don’t you think I had a right to know?”
“I don’t have a good answer.” That was the truth. All her justifications for keeping this to herself sounded stupid now. “I didn’t tell my coworkers, because I knew they’d beat the hell out of him. Then they would be in trouble. I didn’t tell you, because I thought I could get over it. I didn’t want it to ruin things between us.” Though she’d worried time and again that it had, even while she feared the truth would cause her to lose him. But it seemed Clint could stay away from her no better than she could him. They were with each other whenever possible, despite the lack of progress in the physical department.
“You would have gone after him too, especially once you knew the deputy sheriff didn’t take my complaint seriously.”
“What?”
Ah, there was his anger, pure and raw. Sandy fed on it, letting it soothe her fears and shore her up. Chances were he knew most of the deputies, since he’d grown up in this town. They’d be hearing from him soon. God help them all, because Sandy had ceased to care. She wished she’d felt that way from the outset, pressed the issue, told the world, ruined the little bastard.
“I wasn’t roughed up for them. I’d waited until I’d gotten off my three-day shift to report it. I didn’t tell the fire chief, either of the captains, or anybody I worked with. I didn’t scream for help afterward.” Saying the words built her own anger. That felt so much better than the helplessness and fear she’d lived with day in and day out for the last six weeks.
“I blamed myself for not being more aware.” She pushed off his lap long enough to grab a tissue from the box on the end table, then knelt beside him and blew her nose. “But good God, these were my coworkers. I trusted them with my life. Well…not him. No one trusts him. But never in my wildest imagination did I ever suspect he would do such a thing. He caught me in the shower after everyone had gone to sleep. I was daydreaming.” Thinking about Clint, and how she was going to go for it the next time she saw him. That she couldn’t wait another second to be with him. She was hot and horny, slick too. Clint didn’t need to know that, didn’t need guilt laid on his shoulders any more than she did.
“He grabbed me from behind and put a knife to my throat. Said it was time someone took me down a peg. He was pissed because I’d called him out on mistakes he’d made on an earlier run. But damn it, Clint, if I can throw a ladder—even though it kicks my ass—so can he. Then he did it. Told me afterward that if I told anyone, he’d tell them we were having an affair and that I got pissed because he wouldn’t leave his wife for me. I knew if I’d told the guys, all hell would break loose. So I waited until I was off-shift. I called him on his bullshit and went to the sheriff’s office. They didn’t do anything. Now this…” She pressed her hand over her flat stomach.
“How long have you known?” He brushed his thumb over the remnants of her tears, then cupped her neck.
“After two of the longest weeks of my life. I’m fairly regular. I had a physical exam when I filed the report. I had bruising where he grabbed me, and they found physical evidence inside me. I wanted to throw up. I didn’t realize he hadn’t used a condom, or if he had, it didn’t work. I went right to the drugstore for a morning-after pill. They didn’t have any. I hit every drugstore within an hour’s drive and still came up empty. So, I watched and waited and…”
“If there was evidence, why didn’t the DA pursue it?” That furrow between his eyebrows deepened. His words were measured with an intensity that said he was going to tear someone’s head off.
“She did. He was questioned and told them exactly what he said he would.”
“And they believed that?” The tone of his voice relayed his steadily growing anger.
“Keith can be very charming and convincing when it serves his purposes. He could talk a homeless person out of his last penny. It was his word against mine, and since I didn’t immediately report it to anyone and wasn’t roughed up enough, guess who they believed.”
Clint stared at the wall behind her, jaw ticking, he clenched it so hard.
Sandy brushed her hand over his biceps, directing his attention back to her. “I wish—” She pressed her lips together, pulled in a breath, and spit out what she’d been thinking since that bombshell. “I wish we’d been together. At least then I could pretend it was your baby.” Not that they’d have unprotected sex, but still.
“I don’t know what to do.” She’d never felt such turmoil in her life. “I think about…about getting rid of it. I was so ready to take that morning-after pill. Now…” She slowly shook her head. “I worry about its safety when I’m on the job and my exposure to carbon monoxide. I even researched and learned how vulnerable the fetus is, that it could be fatal. I worry about hurting it, then think that, well, that maybe it would be for the best. But then, it’s a little baby. It’s never hurt anyone. It didn’t ask for this any more than I did. But then I think, what if it looks like him? I don’t know if I could bear that. Seeing that face day in and out the rest…”
Clint dragged her into his arms as she broke down. Would there ever be a day she didn’t cry? A night she could crawl into bed and fall asleep instead of listening to her heart race with every sound while she clutched the gardening knife under her pillow? A time when someone could walk up behind her without Sandy jumping out of her skin?
“This is your baby too,” he said.
“Please don’t tell me the world wouldn’t be cruel enough to make it look like Keith.”
“Never. Believe me, I know firsthand how cruel the world can be.”
That’s right. He’d been married once, about five years ago. It hadn’t worked out, and by that statement alone, Sandy knew it was his way of saying he didn’t want to talk about it. That was fine by her. She had a few past relationships she didn’t want to revisit either. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
He lifted her chin on the crook of his finger. “I’m a big boy. I can take it. In fact, I prefer it to silence. To a point.” He added a half-assed smile to his words. “You haven’t been sleeping.” He traced his finger over those dark circles under her eyes.
“I haven’t.” Unless she was with Clint. She’d fallen asleep on him more times than she could count. She could relax, knowing he had her back. How many times over the last six weeks had she almost begged him to stay the night? Yet, she never had. It would have been cruel to ask him when all she could offer was sleep. Damn it to hell, she wanted to be over this, wanted to move on, wanted them naked and in each other’s arms.
“I’m afraid in my own home, even though it didn’t happen here. When I’m on-shift, I shower when I know everyone’s awake. He wouldn’t dare go back there, knowing they’d see him. I don’t have that many shifts with him. Rumor had it he was about to be fired.”
“Have you been to a doctor? Are you sure you’re pregnant?”
She nodded. “I got blood work to test for STDs and was cleared. My doctor is aware I was forced and that I filed a report. I couldn’t go back to her about this, especially since I wasn’t sure of what to do. I tested myself over-the-counter. I was trying to keep th
is all a secret. I didn’t want to be judged or pressured or have people tiptoe around me. The morning sickness hit me five days ago. Each day is worse than the day before.”
“That might have a lot to do with stress. You’re understandably upset, you’re sick and can’t eat, can’t sleep, working, exhausted.”
He brushed his thumb over her lips, then topped the action with a soft kiss that devastated her senses and made her want to cling to him and never let go.
Sandy pushed away from him. “Clint, I’m a mess. I’m pregnant.”
“I know.” He cupped her neck. “Look, I was pissed as hell that I heard about this on the morning news. Hurt more than I expected to be that you would keep something like this from me. I understand your reasoning at the time, but it kills me inside to think you suffered all this alone when you didn’t have to. I’m not walking out the door because of it. I’m not going to let you suffer alone anymore. I’m here to do the heavy lifting, remember?”
It didn’t get any heavier than this. “I considered adoption too, but Keith would never consent. He’s nasty enough to demand the child, and that’s something I can’t allow.”
“Tell him it’s not his,” Clint said.
Sandy’s mouth widened along with her eyes. Was he crazy?
“That kiss we shared in the parking lot told the world we’re much more than friends,” he told her. “There will be speculation. Let them. Not once did you say you were pregnant by him. At least not within camera and mic range.”
She’d take his word for that. She’d been too upset and frustrated to remember. “So we lie?”
“Yep.”
Sandy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was so simple a solution, but then it wasn’t. “Then what?” Because it still left her with the dilemma of raising a child of rape, and she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to deal with that. Now she was dragging Clint into the picture as well, letting the world think it was his child, tethering him to her forever. How was that fair to him?
Flames from Ashes Page 2
