The Summer House

by Susan Mallery

  They had just finished lunch at a little café in Paseo Nuevo with outside tables scattered over the red-tiled patio. The weather was perfect, the sun shining in a clear blue sky, just enough breeze to keep it from being hot. The mountains looked close enough to reach out and touch. Cassie was close enough, a thought that made him wish they were somewhere less public. So it was probably for the best they had left the duplex and embarked on this excursion to find a donation location for the old furniture from the Brightwell side.

  Megan had left that morning. She’d spent one night with Cassie and decided to go home because her daughter began to run a temperature.

  “It’s too bad your sister had to leave earlier than she’d planned,” he said, trying to sound sincere. He wasn’t sorry to be alone with Cassie, but he sincerely felt bad that Megan’s little girl was listless and not her usual chatterbox self. “I hope Bayleigh’s fever turns out to be nothing.”

  “Yeah. She’s one of those kids you’re always going to worry about. Because of her medical history, every sneeze is a concern.” Cassie looked up at him as they continued to stroll. “But since Megan and I are health-care professionals, I told her we could take care of Bayleigh here just as well as she could at home. This is Santa Barbara, not the wilds of Kaz-something-stan, but my sister insisted on being closer to her own doctor.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “You can?”

  “Sure. If she was my kid, I’d want to play it safe.”

  “Yeah. If she was my kid, I would probably do the same thing,” she agreed. She glanced up at him again and smiled. “She likes you.”

  “Megan? I like her, too.”

  “I meant Bayleigh, and you know it. You’re pretty good with her.”

  Kyle recalled Megan saying he was the kind of man she wanted for Bayleigh’s father. He wanted to believe she was right, but he was a long shot. Then he met Cassie’s gaze and shook his head. “This is where I change the subject. It’s too bad your sister didn’t get a chance to lend a hand with the painting.”

  “There’s not that much left, although I know she felt bad about not being able to help.” She shrugged. “I’ll get it done by the time the new furniture arrives. I work best under pressure of a deadline.”

  “Speaking of pressure,” he said, looking up and down the street, trying to ignore the tension he still felt from wanting her. “I thought that thrift shop your sister mentioned was around here somewhere.”

  “Explicit directions are not my sister’s strength. An address or a name would have been way too helpful.” Cassie stopped walking and shielded her eyes from the sun. She pointed to a store across the street. “I don’t know if that’s the place Megan was talking about, but it looks interesting.”

  “Okay.”

  He tugged her along to the signal light and waited for it to turn green, then crossed the palm-tree-lined street. Backtracking, they found the store called Everything Old…Is New Again. The display window was littered with lamps, vases, pictures, a small writing desk and cedar chest, along with all kinds of odds and ends. A notice on the door read, “The management gratefully accepts items for the Santa Barbara Women’s Shelter. Everything must be in good condition. Pickup service available upon request. All donations are tax deductible.”

  “This could work,” he said, pointing at the sign.

  “Let’s check it out,” she agreed.

  As he opened the door and let Cassie precede him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the store’s name had hit a nerve with him. Everything old is new again. He and Cassie were old friends, but he’d discovered feelings for her that were different and new and unsettling, but boy were they exciting.

  The interior of the store was dark after the bright sunlight. He removed his sunglasses and hung them from the neck of his T-shirt. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust. The wooden floor didn’t help lighten the inside. Neither did the clutter; there was stuff everywhere. Glassware, tableware, knickknacks, quilts, occasional tables, kitchen appliances, pots and pans. The jumble was stacked so high, no way could light get into this place.

  Behind the counter, a woman looked to be totaling sales receipts. She was attractive, somewhere in her mid to late thirties with brown hair and green eyes.

  “Hi,” she said, looking up to meet his gaze. “If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

  “Do you mind if we browse?” Cassie asked.

  “Help yourselves.”

  When she smiled, Kyle noticed a scar on her upper lip and figured she had a story. He wasn’t especially intuitive, but he’d read the notice in the window. It didn’t take a mental giant to figure she had a personal interest in the women’s shelter. He’d handled a couple cases for wives leaving abusive relationships. If the husband had approached him, he’d have refused the case. After all, he had his standards. There was no reason, ever, for a man to hit a woman.

  Cassie picked up an oval plate. “This looks old. My mom collects green Depression glass. I wonder if it’s from that era. Do you think she’d like it?”

  He moved behind her, taking advantage of the close quarters to get near enough to brush against her and feel her shiver. He leaned over her to look. “It’s nice.”

  “Nice?” She glanced up at him over her shoulder. “Look at the detail in the pattern, the flowers and leaves. At the very least it rates a heartfelt really before that generic nice.”

  “Okay.”

  She picked up the price tag and looked at the handwritten figure. “Not too bad. I’m going to buy this.”

  “What if it’s not authentic?”

  “Someone once told me if you like something and it brings you pleasure, it doesn’t matter whether it’s the real McCoy or not.”

  “It’s for a good cause.”

  “Yeah. I think this is the place Megan was talking about.”

  “While you poke around in here, I’ll negotiate with the woman up front about taking the furniture,” he offered.

  “Negotiate? Can’t you just talk to her?”

  He grinned. “Okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kyle retraced his steps and stopped at the glass counter where the woman was still going through receipts.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “My…friend has a duplex south of here in Carpinteria,” he started.

  “I know it. Nice little town,” she said.

  “Her mother is having new furniture delivered in a few days. The old pieces are in good shape, but—”

  “It’s time for a change?”

  “Yeah. Do you take stuff like that?”

  She nodded. “It’s exactly what we need, whatever makes a home. Anything you need to be comfortable, we need at the shelter. We’d be happy to take it off your hands.”

  “Great. How do we do this?”

  “Can you give me a detailed list? I have a truck and volunteers to pick it up, but they usually make more than one stop and we need to be sure there’s enough room for everything on the truck.”

  “She can tell you. Cassie?”

  She appeared beside him. “I heard.” She smiled at the woman. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “That’s what we try to do.” She handed over a clipboard with a paper and pencil attached.

  He knew the implication of her words went so much deeper. Beside him, Cassie concentrated on the form she was filling out.

  “How long have you worked here—” he noticed the name on the tag she wore “—Paula?”

  “About five years. But technically I’m not working. I have an office job that pays the bills. I’m a volunteer here. It’s a way to give back.”

  “You must find it rewarding.”

  She nodded. “I do. So does everyone else. It’s more than support. We’re like a family.”

  What she didn’t say spoke volumes. He could fill in the blanks. “Do all the women from the shelter volunteer?”

  She shook her head. “Sometimes just working to put a roof over your h
ead and food on the table for the kids is all you can handle. To keep from going back. The ones who can give their time do it. But not everyone volunteers because they’ve needed the shelter. It’s a good cause and we get people from all circumstances and walks of life who offer their skills.”

  “He’s an attorney,” Cassie interjected. “Divorce,” she added pointedly.

  “We’re always looking for volunteers,” Paula said, keen interest sparkling in her eyes.

  Cassie touched his arm, and something that looked an awful lot like respect lurked in her gaze. “Can you think of anyone who needs the skills of a good divorce attorney more than a woman searching for a way out of an abusive relationship?”

  “You’ve got a point,” he said.

  Cassie tapped her lips with the eraser part of the pencil. “I just thought of something. It might be a good way to balance the tally sheet.”

  “To fill up the well.”

  “The something more you’ve been looking for,” she added.

  Helping women who needed legal aid and couldn’t afford to pay for competent counsel. It was a good idea. Hell, it was a great idea. The thought of giving that kind of service brought instant satisfaction.

  “I could offer my services pro bono,” he said, thinking aloud.

  Excitement dancing in her eyes, Cassie looked at Paula. “See? He’s brighter than the average bear and not just another pretty face.” She rested her hip against the glass counter and folded her arms over her chest as she studied him. “What do you think?”

  He pulled out his wallet and found several business cards. He handed them to Paula. “I should have thought of it myself. Everything Old just found its newest volunteer.”

  Cassie threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a good, kind man, Kyle Stratton.”

  “Don’t spread it around,” he said against her hair as he folded her closer. “I’m going to need my go-for-the-jugular reputation more than ever.”

  “It will be our little secret. And when that emotional well of yours runneth over—” She sucked in a breath and squeezed him tight.

  “What?” He held her away from him and saw something in her eyes.

  “Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re one of the good guys. This is merely the place where I get emotional.”

  Because she had a heart as big as the ocean and soft as marshmallow. Things were suddenly crystal clear. He’d always thought your life flashed before your eyes when you were dying. But he’d never felt more alive as his shell of an existence zipped past his mind’s eye. Suddenly he knew what had been missing from his life. What he needed to fill his emotional well. The something more he’d thought there should be in life. He’d known it on some level years ago, when they’d gone on that unforgettable double date with her brother. Now that he’d found her again, he wasn’t letting her go.

  He only needed to find a way to make Dan understand.

  After a picnic supper on the beach, Cassie and Kyle returned to the duplex. She was filled with a sense of contentment that she’d never experienced before. It had been a wonderful day. Kyle had “negotiated” for volunteers from the women’s shelter to come by in the morning to pick up the old furniture. Paula was not only grateful for the donation, but the offer of his legal expertise. Kyle had said he thought he was the one who should feel indebted.

  The day after the old stuff left, the new stuff would be delivered. That was her cue to leave the beach and start her new job and new life. The thought had made her so unbearably sad she hadn’t been able to bear it. Her time with Kyle was almost over.

  She had suggested a picnic supper on the beach, fully expecting him to turn her down. Surprisingly, he hadn’t. No good deed goes unpunished because all good things come to an end. But why did her punishment have to be so terribly harsh and hurtful?

  Cassie unlocked the door to her place and opened it, then glanced back at Kyle. The hanging light fixture in the foyer was lit, casting shadows. In the dimness, she memorized his face, the slight indentation in his chin, his square jaw, the lines fanning out from his puppy-dog eyes, which proved he occasionally laughed. And she knew. She’d fallen in love with him. Again. Soon she would have to say goodbye. Again. And she really didn’t want to.

  She leaned against the wall beside the door. “Thanks for the pizza and wine.”

  “Thanks for the beach blanket, the company and the sunset.”

  “I can’t take credit for company and the blanket.”

  He grinned. “You’re too much, Cass.”

  “It’s one of my best qualities.”

  His smile disappeared as he rested his palm against the wall just above her head and leaned in closer. The amused expression was replaced by a look of such intensity it made her shiver.

  “You’re cold,” he said. “We shouldn’t have stayed out so long.”

  She felt as if she’d been in the cold for years, until this time with Kyle when she’d walked in the warm sun. The discomfort of being chilly was a small price to pay for spending every last second with him.

  “Weren’t you cold, too?” she asked, trying to shift focus so he wouldn’t know he was the source of her shiver.

  He shrugged. “It’s not macho to admit stuff like that.”

  “You could have come in sooner. I’d have been fine on my own.” From her mouth to God’s ear, because she was going to be on her own real soon.

  He shook his head. “A gentleman always sees a lady home.”

  “You’re definitely a gentleman,” she said.

  He frowned. “From your tone, I get the feeling you don’t mean that in a good way.”

  “A gentleman also doesn’t kiss a lady on a first date. You certainly lived up to that.”

  “You mean when we doubled with Dan to the high school play-off game.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t kiss you that night, did I?”

  “No. You were a perfect gentleman.”

  “I really screwed up that night, didn’t I?”

  “Yes. You were a perfect gentleman.”

  “I wanted to kiss you. And this is sort of like a first date.”

  And last, she thought. But it was probably for the best. Kyle only did no-strings-attached. The one time she’d done strings-attached it had resulted in romantic meltdown. She would be stupid to even think about it again, especially with this man. Unfortunately, he was the only man she would ever want.

  “I could kiss you now,” he suggested. “To make up for the last time.”

  “Isn’t that sort of like closing the barn door after the cows got loose and partied all night in the pasture? Because we already—you know.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I definitely know.”

  The words, combined with the smoldering look in his eyes and the gravel-and-whiskey sexy tone of his voice, made her throb in places she didn’t know she had.

  His gaze skimmed over her face. “But if you’d rather I didn’t—”

  Yes, she wanted him to kiss her. All day she’d brushed up against him, playfully touched his arm, but never felt she had the right to take his hand and hold it, have him put his arm around her and nestle her against his side. All the things a couple did. And no, she didn’t want him to kiss her. Kissing would lead them to places it would be a mistake to go.

  In the end, she couldn’t deny herself one last time. “Kiss me,” she said.

  Slowly he leaned down and captured her mouth with his own. The first wonderful, soft, tender touch drove everything from her mind—right, wrong. Beginning, end. Past, future. There was only now, this moment. She forgot about everything but feeling and remembering.

  His lips moved over hers for what could have been hours or minutes. She wasn’t sure and she didn’t care. Because she was perfectly content with his mouth loving hers, the warmth of his body invading her own. Every moment spent with Kyle made her happy. Kissing him was the icing on the cake. Making love would be even better icing.

  Then he traced her bottom lip w
ith his tongue and she opened to him. He dipped inside, taking what she offered without hesitation. With a thoroughness that thrilled her, he stroked and explored the recesses of her mouth. She’d begun to breathe faster and she heard his quick intake of air.

  Suddenly he had one arm around her waist, pulling her next to his hard body. His hand tunneled into her hair at the nape of her neck, his palm curving against the back of her head to make the contact of their mouths more secure. She slid her hands up and over his chest, and looped her arms around his neck. Her breasts were pressed to his chest, soft to hard, female to male, and she reveled in the glorious differences between a man and a woman.

  The words welled up inside her, clamoring to be heard, but she wouldn’t spoil this last time. She would do everything but say she loved him to show him the truth of what she felt.

  She pulled her mouth from his and let her eyelids drift open so she could see his face. “My place or yours?”

  He glanced at the open doorway beside them. “Yours,” he said quickly.

  He took her hand and led her through the opening then shut them inside. Looking down at her, he grinned suddenly. And wickedly. “We could play Goldilocks and the three bears.”

  “As in who’s been doing the wild thing in my bed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m not sure I could ever look my parents in the eye again. And before anything, we need to wash the sand off. I’m afraid I’ve got sand in places sand was never meant to be.”

  “That gives me an idea.”

  He took her upstairs and into the bathroom between the two bedrooms. There was a tub, separate shower and vanity with two sinks and a mirror above that took up one wall. The tile floor sported several throw rugs. Kyle reached into the shower and turned on the water.

  “This will warm you right up,” he promised.

  “I forgot all about being cold.”

  “Good.” His lips curved upward in a pleased smile. “But just in case—”

  He reached over and pulled her T-shirt from the waistband of her shorts, then slid it up and over her head. Next he unhooked the closure on her pants, tugged the zipper down and she wiggled them off her hips until she stepped out of them. She stood there in bra and panties, wishing she’d splurged on a matching set at the mall lingerie store.