by Pat Warren
In a perfect world, Adam would forget about trying to get Josh or Nick would catch him making a mistake that would force him to stop. Josh would come back and they could live without fear. And maybe there’d be a future for her and Nick.
But then, when had it ever been a perfect world?
She raised a hand to touch his hair ever so gently, just to reassure herself this wasn’t a dream. He was a beautiful man, a wonderful man. But she had no right to lead him on. Had no right to take his love when she wasn’t free of the demons that tormented her.
She’d made love with him and accepted his words of love, but nothing had really changed. Her son was still miles away, needing protection from his own father. Adam was still plotting a way to take Josh from her, increasingly terrorizing them all with bombs and letters and telephone threats through a vicious thug he called an aide. Adam thought that being a member of the U.S. senate made him invincible, immune from the rules and laws that governed ordinary citizens. And maybe he was.
For years now on and off, he’d been stalking her, hounding her, menacing her. As much as she knew Nick’s intentions were based on his belief in himself and his ability to get Adam, yet she couldn’t buy into his blind faith. Because nothing had changed in her life as far as the danger aspect went. She was still on the run, constantly looking over her shoulder, an unwilling target of a madman.
Adam had to be mad to think she’d ever let him have Josh. As before, it was up to her to protect her son. Nick’s scheme, of waiting around to flush Adam out, was viable if you didn’t consider what a toll waiting would have on her nerves. It was more than waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was waiting to see where Adam’s henchman would plant the next bomb or sabotage the next car. This cat-and-mouse game was going to drive her crazy.
Sighing, she eased out from under Nick’s arm, gathered up her clothes lying where they’d been flung all over the living room and went into the bathroom. She badly needed a shower.
The flow wasn’t the greatest, but the water was hot and steaming. Tate stepped under the spray and was just beginning to lather up when the shower curtain slid back. A devilish grin on his face, Nick joined her, ducking his head under the water.
“Let me do that,” he said, taking the soap from her. Lost in her troubled thoughts, she wasn’t much in the mood for fun and games. But all Nick had to do was touch her and she forgot what she’d been thinking. The moment he started soaping her skin with those big hands, Tate knew it was going to be a very long shower for both of them.
The hot water ran out before the two in the small shower stall were finished playing. When it began to run quite cool, Nick shut off the spray and grabbed two towels, handing one to Tate. “This is a first for me. I haven’t ever showered with anyone,” he told her, rubbing dry his wet hair.
“Nor have I. Pretty tight quarters, but we got the job done.”
He bent to kiss her neck. “Mmm, did we ever.”
Tate hated putting on yesterday’s clothes, but she had no choice until she could get to Maggie’s and change. However, she looked with some trepidation at her blouse where two front buttons were missing.
“I seem to recall someone in a hurry to get this off me last night,” she commented, holding up the blouse.
“It was worth a new blouse, which I’ll get you.” He opened the closet to reveal a small dresser. He found a blue T-shirt and handed it to her. “Here, try this. It’s too small for me.”
It was still miles too big for Tate, but she put it on anyhow, then went out to the tiny kitchen and looked around while Nick shaved and dressed. She spotted the coffeepot and searched the cupboards until she found coffee. By the time Nick joined her, the coffee was dripping and Tate was seated at his small kitchen table sipping orange juice.
“I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home,” she said as he bent to kiss the top of her head.
“Mi casa, su casa,” he said, taking the juice she handed him.
A nice thought, my house is your house. But it wasn’t really her house and she’d have to get going very soon. Glancing at him, she noticed that Nick was wearing jeans and a snug black polo shirt. “Kind of casual for work, or aren’t you going in today?”
“I’m not going in and neither are you.” Before she could protest, he took her hand, squeezed her fingers. “After the last twenty-four hours, we deserve some downtime, and today is that day. What time does your store open so you can call in?”
She stared at him a long moment. “Are you always this bossy this early in the morning? Nick, I have a job to protect. They’ve been awfully understanding of all the time I’ve taken off as it is. I can’t take advantage.”
“Then quit the damn job and marry me.” He’d spoken without thinking, but found he meant every word. “I’ll adopt Josh and then let’s see the good senator try to pry him away.”
“Whoa, here.” Tate brushed back her hair, trying to keep up, to stay calm. Rising to give herself a bit of time, she went to pour them both coffee.
Marriage. Good Lord. She hadn’t thought, hadn’t dreamed of marriage since her disastrous affair with Adam all those years ago. And those had been the unrealistic dreams of someone young and infatuated for the first time. She’d been a girl, but she was a woman now. One who had to face facts, even if they weren’t to her liking.
Her hands shook so that she almost spilled both mugs. She sipped the hot brew, staring out the small window. How do you tell a man who’s not only said he loves you, but has asked you to marry him that none of that is possible just now, without hurting him badly? Tate asked herself.
“Did you hear me?” Nick asked.
“Oh, yes, I heard you. I heard you loud and clear.” Frowning, her green eyes settled on his as she came up with a viable argument, one she felt he should accept. “I can just see your mother’s face when you tell her that you’re going to marry that woman you danced with, the dance that appar ently set all her friends to talking. The woman with the son, the one who never bothered to marry his father. Oh, and don’t forget to tell her that Josh’s father is now stalking both mother and son, and you as well, setting off bombs, sending threatening letters, forcing cars off the road. I just know she’ll be thrilled at your news.”
“Are you marrying my mother or me?”
“Neither. Nick, don’t try to tell me that how your family feels isn’t important to you, because I saw how close you all are at your father’s birthday party. You can tell me their feelings don’t matter, but I know that’s not so.”
He drank a long swallow of coffee, trying to come up with the right words. “All right, so my family’s important to me. But I’ve gone against their wishes before, by joining the police force instead of knuckling under in the family business. Besides, what makes you think my mother won’t understand about your past once we explain it to her? She’s a really good person, Tate. You need to give her a chance.”
The question was, Tate thought, would Mrs. Bennett give her a chance, or would Tate have to keep proving herself worthy of her son over and over? But she wasn’t able to say that to Nick nor was she ready to even consider marriage at this point in time. “Look, I’m not about to put myself between you and your mother. You’ve known me, what, three weeks? Four? And her all your life. I don’t want to cause a rift.”
He studied her face, thinking she was skirting the issue. Was there another reason? “Is it because of Josh? You don’t feel he’d accept me?”
“Are you kidding? Did you see how he raised his arms for a hug when he was groggy with sleep last night? He’s been nuts about you ever since you got him Ralph. No, Josh isn’t the problem.”
“There is no problem, except in your mind, Tate.”
She shook her head. “Nick, we’re rushing this. Let’s just go on like we have been, get to know each other better, and then, once this is over, if it ever is, see where we stand.”
But Nick wasn’t satisfied with that. “I want you to answer me just one question. One.”
/> She sighed, met his serious gaze. “All right, one.”
“Do you care about me, honestly care, and would you consider spending the rest of your life with me?”
“That’s two questions disguised as one.”
“Don’t fudge the issue. It requires only one answer. Go ahead. Answer me, Tate.”
She dropped her gaze. “You don’t play fair.”
“I’m not playing here. I’m dead serious. Answer me.”
“It’s not as simple as that. I can’t answer that question just now. My life’s too complicated and…”
“Complications always exist. You have to decide what it is you want.”
She moved away from him, unable to think clearly when he was touching her. “You seem to have forgotten something. Adam is not going away. Maybe he never will.” She swung toward him, deciding to reveal another terrible fear.
“I have this recurring nightmare that maybe Adam will wake up and realize that I won’t ever give Josh to him. So instead, he’ll go to court, establish paternity and petition for custody since he’s a senator with a solid marriage, a stay-at-home wife, a lovely home, an impressive job.”
“The courts tend to favor mothers. It’s not that easy, taking a child from its mother.”
“Oh, no? If you were the judge deciding between a father like the Adam I just described and a mother who manages a local bookstore, rents a couple of rooms in a fifty-year-old falling-down house with a frail old lady and drives a car held together with spit, glue and prayers, which way would you decide? Adam can give Josh everything. What can I offer him?”
“The most important thing of all—love. And a history of being there for him for all his seven years. Also let’s not forget that Rafe Collins, who is on Adam’s payroll, committed several criminal acts. Breaking into Laura’s place, messing with her brakes, forcing her off the road and beating up Maggie.”
“All without proof.”
“Not so. Maggie could identify Rafe, even though he wore a ski mask. That ponytail, his voice on the tape.”
“You don’t know Adam. He’d clean Rafe up, get him a designer haircut, put him in a five-hundred-dollar suit. As to the voice on the tape, it may sound like Rafe, but Adam would parade half a dozen other men in who sound the same.”
“Hey, who’s the cop here? If we wanted to start a lawsuit on Collins, we could, right now, and we’d win. The only reason we haven’t is we’re trying to flush out the head man.” He drained his mug, turned to pour more coffee for both of them.
“Be that as it may, we really don’t know how this is going to end up. Or when. It’s true, I care about you, Nick. But I don’t have the energy to think about a future when the past is closing in on the present. I’m having trouble holding myself together. It’s all I can do to get through each day.”
“This will end and end soon. And everything will be all right, you’ll see. I promise you.” He set his mug down, took hers and did the same before pulling her into his arms. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I need to know if I have a chance here.”
Tate saw the hope in his eyes and hated disappointing him. He could ask her to walk on water and she’d try. But there was more involved here than their feelings. “Did last night give you a clue about your chances, about how I feel? Making love with you was mind-blowing, but I’ve lived without sex for a lot of years and I could again. How I feel about you is much more than sex, much stronger. But those feelings are going to have to be put on hold.”
“Do you trust me?” Without trust, there could be no love.
“I trust you to get proof on Adam and put him away.” What other choice did she have, at this point? He was a good cop; she knew that. She’d sent away her son so Nick would have free rein to do his thing. She prayed he wouldn’t take too long.
Nick frowned. “You trust me to take care of Adam for you. Okay. But what about trusting me? As a man, as someone you care about, trusting me with your feelings, certain I won’t hurt you?”
Tate didn’t want to be in this conversation right now. “I’m doing the best I can here, Nick. Don’t ask for more than I can give right now, please. I need time.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was the one he was stuck with for now, like it or not. He tamped down on his impatience, remembering his thoughts that night he’d watched her dance with his father. She’s the one. Don’t let her go. Just because he knew that Tate was meant for him, didn’t mean that she felt that way, too. Not yet. But she would. “All right. I’ll give you time.” And hope she didn’t take too damn long.
Thinking they both needed a change of scene, he opened the door of his mobile home. “Come on. Let’s take a walk. I want to show you my house.”
Tate really didn’t want to go. She wanted to see his house, but not just now when she was so stirred up. But she knew he was hurt by their conversation, by the way she’d put him off. She also knew he was proud of his house so she walked outside with him.
He’d chosen his spot well, she thought as he pointed to the far boundaries. The lot was wooded with a variety of trees—birch and pine, eucalyptus and palo verde. Two tall saguaro cactus stood like sentinels, both with two arms stretched skyward, one on either side of the house. Toward the back, she spotted the wood fence he’d put up enclosing his property and the stream that flowed lazily along over rocks made smooth by the gurgling water.
They walked up the path to the front door. A purple jacaranda bush was in full bloom and two varieties of bougainvillea graced the side yard, one pale pink and the other flaming red. The scent of honeysuckle perfumed the air as Tate breathed in deeply. A mourning dove sang its sad song from somewhere in the trees. Something brown and furry skittered across the side yard, drawing Tate’s attention.
“What was that?”
“A baby coyote. We probably frightened him. The mother and four or five of her young live over there,” Nick told her, pointing off to the right. “She’s usually with them, very protective. The father’s around here somewhere, too. They’re a nice little family.” He inserted a key into the lock and swung open the solid oak door with its beveled glass window, inviting her to go inside.
The foyer was Italian tile, that much she recognized. Straight ahead was a winding stairway, the wood banister beautifully carved and gleaming. “Don’t tell me you did this?” she asked, moving to run her hand along the smooth surface.
“Yeah, I did. One of my hobbies.” Hand at her back, he guided her into a room off to the left that had two walls of bookcases built in, several with glass doors, and a fireplace at the opposite end. “The den or library, whichever.”
“Do you have enough books to fill all those shelves?”
“Them and lots more. I noticed you have quite a few, too. Something we have in common, the love of books.” He led the way to the dining room with its crystal chandelier and a generous window that looked out onto the sloping backyard. “I plan to clear back there and put in grass, plus a pool one day.”
The kitchen was mostly unfinished, floor bare wood and no appliances yet, though the places where they would be were marked. The cupboards, a warm oak, were in. “You must like to cook. This looks like it’ll be a dream kitchen.”
His arm slid around her waist, drawing her close. “Do you like to cook?”
“When I have the time.”
“I can picture you in here, making dinner while Josh and I take a swim out back. There’ll be a large patio off the family room…” He walked her over, stopping in front of the French doors that opened to the back. “The lot stretches half an acre in both directions so there’s plenty of room for a horse or two. Maybe a tennis court. Josh would like it here, don’t you think?”
She saw what he was doing, mentally moving them in, and she felt the tension build. “What little boy wouldn’t?”
He showed her the laundry area, two baths, one off the kitchen, the other opening to the backyard for the swimmers. Then he carefully led her up the uncarpeted stairs, pointing out three
bedrooms, each with their own bath, then the master suite at the far end.
“This would be our room,” Nick said, pushing open two wood doors, also carved, the detailing beautiful.
The room was huge, Tate noticed, with a raised platform that would easily hold a king-size bed and nightstands, a television niche across from it, and several windows to let in the light. An enormous walk-in closet was off to the right.
“And here’s my pride and joy,” Nick said, moving to a wall switch. Pushing it, he looked up and Tate watched the ceiling panel open over a skylight. “I admit I had to have help installing this. It’s pretty tricky.”
“It’s…breathtaking.” What else could she say? Despite her best effort to stay untouched, unmoved, Tate found herself mentally decorating the room, adding homey touches, picturing the two of them in that big bed, staring up at the stars at night with Josh safely tucked in his own bed next door.
A dream was what it was, Tate reminded herself. And like so many other dreams, out of her reach, at least for now.
Nick walked her through the archway into the master bath with its sunken tub outfitted with jets to make it into a whirlpool and the glassed-in shower. Two walls were windows, looking out on the tops of trees, no neighbors nearby to interfere with privacy. In the distance, she could see a ridge of mountains. “It’s lovely, Nick. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Oh, I’m not finished yet. I’ve got lots of ideas. I’d like to talk them over with you, when we have time, of course. And colors. I haven’t picked out any yet. What are your favorites?”
Tate turned from the view and saw how alive his face was, his silver eyes shining. Dear God, how could he just forge ahead with plans for a future when a dangerous man could very well change her life, or even end it if he became desperate enough?
“I…I think it’s a little premature for me to be picking out colors in your house.” She checked her watch, saw that it was already seven. “I need to go to Maggie’s, Nick. I’ll have just enough time to change and get to work on time.”
