by Linda Turner
He set the table for her, and within minutes, it was time to eat. Sitting across from her, Austin served himself from the steaming bowl in the middle of the table, sure he wouldn’t eat much. Then he took a bite, and the flavors exploded on his tongue. Surprised, he said, “My God, this is fantastic! Where’d you learn to cook like this?” But even as he asked, he knew. “Inez!”
She grinned. “When I was a kid, my mother’s idea of home cooking was to open a can of Spaghetti-Os. I didn’t realize you could even make it from scratch until I went to live at the ranch.”
“So what else did Inez teach you to cook? She didn’t give you the recipe to her chocolate cake, did she?”
“She doesn’t give that to anyone,” she laughed. “I know. I’ve tried to get it out of her more times than I can remember.”
Lost in her memories, she happily reminisced about all the successes and disasters she’d had in the kitchen with Inez. She’d burnt cookies and set off the smoke alarm, made cakes that never rose, and to this day, had yet to live down the dried-out chicken breasts she’d baked too long in a too-hot oven. And she’d had a wonderful time doing it.
“The first time I made gravy that wasn’t lumpy, Inez baked a chocolate cake just for me. I ate the whole thing.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did, too. It was just a little cake, hardly bigger than a saucer, but the whole family teased me about it for weeks.”
Austin could see her now, stuffing her face with cake like a three-year-old. And just that easily, his thoughts slipped to the baby he’d lost, a daughter who would be eight now. What would she be like if she’d lived? Would she have Jenny’s smile? Her laughing blue eyes? Her joy of living? Sadly, he would never know.
“Austin? What is it? Suddenly you seem very far away. Is something wrong?”
It was several long seconds before he heard her, and when he did, he jerked himself back to the present with a smile that was dredged in sadness. “It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “My mind just drifted for a moment. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize. You just looked so unhappy.”
That didn’t begin to describe what he was feeling, but he hated to burden her with the weight of his past. “It’s been one of those days,” he said simply. “Tomorrow will be better.” Deliberately, he changed the subject, steering it back to her. “So is there any news on who the new principal’s going to be? How long do you think it’ll take the school board to make an appointment?”
Rebecca knew what he was doing, but she graciously allowed him to guide the conversation away from himself. He would talk when he was ready. “No one knows yet. Most of the teachers hope they’ll promote Christina Lopez, the assistant principal. She gets along with everyone, and she’s very fair. The students like her, too.”
Happy to distract him from whatever was bothering him, she talked about school and her students and even the house she one day hoped to buy, but the shadow of pain continued to linger in his eyes. To his credit, though, he tried not to let it show. As they lingered over the meal, he asked questions in all the right places, kept the mood light, and even went out of his way to make her laugh. But he never smiled himself, and when she suggested that he stay for a while after the meal and watch a movie with her, he seemed to accept almost in relief.
They settled at opposite ends of her small couch in front of the TV, and up until the first commercial break, Rebecca would have sworn that Austin was as caught up in the story as she was. His eyes directed on the screen, he seemed totally focused. The only problem was…the movie was a comedy and quite funny, and he never laughed. In fact, Rebecca doubted he heard a single word of it. He just sat there, staring unseeingly at the TV.
Worried, she shifted to face him and said quietly, “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” When he just looked at her blankly, she said, “Something’s obviously bothering you. It might help if you talked about it.”
For a moment she thought he was going to offer another excuse and change the subject, just as he had during dinner. He glanced back at the TV, and for a long time he didn’t say a word. Then he said huskily, “Today’s the anniversary of Jenny and the baby’s death.”
Stricken, she gasped, “Oh, Austin, I’m so sorry! I should have remembered.”
“It was a long time ago. People forget.”
“No,” she said, impulsively reaching across the short distance between the two of them to give his hand a squeeze. “Please don’t think that. I may have forgotten the date, but I could never forget Jenny and the baby, and neither could the rest of the family. Everyone knows losing them was horrible for you. If no one talks about it, it’s only because they don’t want to hurt you by bringing it up.”
“I know,” he said thickly, “but it hurts, anyway.”
His hand holding hers as if he would never let her go, he told her then about Jenny and how happy they’d been when they’d discovered they were going to have a baby. “She wasn’t even born yet, and we’d already made all these plans for her. She was going to be smart and pretty, of course, and sweet, like Jenny. She’d take ballet lessons and love Winnie-the-Pooh and books. We were already planning a trip to Disneyland—”
His voice cracked, and Rebecca’s heart broke at the sight of the silent tears trailing down his face. “Oh, Austin, I’m so sorry.”
She moved then because she couldn’t stop herself. He was hurting, and her heart ached for him. With a murmur, she wrapped her arms around him and just held him. “It’s okay,” she choked, tears welling in her own eyes. “I know it hurts. Go ahead and cry.”
It had been nine years, and he’d never cried. At the time he’d felt nothing but anger when the shock wore off. He’d stood dry-eyed at the funeral as he watched his wife and baby daughter lowered into the ground in the same casket, so furious with God he could barely speak. Then when the anger finally faded, he’d ruthlessly refused to let himself cry. Because he’d been afraid if he ever started, he’d never be able to stop.
But with Rebecca holding him, he didn’t worry about any of that. Emotions that had been building up for years washed over him like a tidal wave, dragging him down until all he could feel was pain. Endless, agonizing pain. And he couldn’t fight it anymore. He just didn’t have the strength. Burying his face against her neck, he cried and cried and cried.
Spent, Rebecca couldn’t have said how long they held each other after his tears ended. With the TV a soft murmur in the background, she lay with her head against Austin’s chest and listened to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. Her eyes closed on a sigh. A heartbeat later, she was asleep.
It was the sound of an ambulance racing by on the street outside her apartment that finally brought her awake. Groggy, she blinked sleepily, only to gasp softly when she realized she was lying in Austin’s arms on the couch. How…?
Confused, she should have distracted herself immediately, before he woke up and the situation became awkward. But even as she recognized the wisdom of that, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Not yet. She’d never wakened up in a man’s arms before and had no idea how fascinating it could be. He was so close, so…touchable.
He was an incredibly attractive man—she’d always thought so, but never more so than now. He didn’t often let his guard down, but with his chestnut hair falling over his brow, his thick lashes dark against his chiseled cheeks, and his lips slightly parted in sleep, just looking at him stole her breath. Her fingers trembling slightly, she lifted her hand to his hair.
Later, she couldn’t have said when she realized he was awake. One second, she was stroking his hair and the next, she was looking him right in the eye. “Oh!” Her fingers stopped in midstroke at his temple. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he rasped. Lifting his own hand to her hair, he arched a brow at her. “May I?”
Enchanted, she could only nod, unable to deny either of them this innocent intimacy she’d never shared with another man. Slowly, with infinite
care, he stroked her hair, then the curve of her cheek, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. And just that easily, he made her float.
Tears of joy misted her eyes, but she didn’t have to worry that he would misunderstand. He smiled softly and trailed a finger slowly down to her mouth. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you?” he asked in a hushed voice that set her nerve endings humming. “Since the first day I arrived in town and you sat across from me during dinner at Joe’s.”
Surprised, she stared up at him in wonder. “That long? But that was over a month ago! We barely knew each other.”
“I knew all I needed to know when I looked into your eyes,” he murmured. “I want to kiss you, sweetheart. You know that, don’t you?”
His honesty nearly destroyed her. “Oh, Austin, I want that, too! I never thought I could lie here like this with you. It’s wonderful! But I’m not sure how I would react to a kiss.”
“I won’t rush you,” he said roughly. “This is your call. If you get nervous or scared, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll stop. Okay? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Touched, she wanted to tell him that she already knew that. Over the last few weeks, she’d come to trust him so much. He was a good man, a caring man, and she only had to look into his eyes to know that he meant every word. Needing to show him how much that meant to her, she leaned over and pressed her mouth to his in a kiss that was whisper soft. And he kissed her back.
Magic. There was no other way to describe the wonder of the moment. One tender kiss gave way to another, then another, and although he didn’t try to hold her, he never stopped touching her. From her hair, his hand moved to her cheek, cupping it, then his fingers skimmed down the side of her neck, warming her blood until her body was sparkling like a new star in the night sky.
And she loved it. Delighted, she melted against him and touched him as he touched her, slowly trailing her hands over him, stroking the rugged lines of his face, the breadth of his shoulders, the hard wall of his chest. And with every touch, every kiss, the need coiling deep inside her tightened.
She should have drawn back then, before her fears unexpectedly rose up to ruin the wonder of the moment. But then his hands moved to the buttons of her blouse just as hers moved to his shirt, and her thoughts clouded. The pounding of her heart drowned out the quiet words of caution whispered by her common sense, and all she wanted to do was curl into his arms and give in to the ache he stirred in her so effortlessly. Murmuring his name, she kissed him hungrily, wanting, needing, something she couldn’t put a name to.
“Oh, honey,” he groaned. “Does this feel as good to you as it does to me?”
“I never knew it could be like this,” she murmured, and pulled him to her for another desperate kiss.
Lost in the taste and feel and fire of her, he would have liked nothing better than to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to bed, where he would spend the rest of the night making love to her. It was what he wanted, what he ached for, what he’d dreamed of for weeks. But even as his arms tightened around her and he took the kiss deeper, he knew the exact moment her fear started to creep back between them. She stiffened ever so slightly, but he still felt it.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly, immediately loosening his arms around her. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. There’s no reason to be alarmed.”
He kept his voice low and soothing as he stroked her with gentle hands, calming her before her fear could get out of hand, but for a moment, he was afraid she didn’t even hear him. Stiff as a board in his loose hold, she lay with her eyes squeezed shut, hardly daring to breathe.
Hurting for her, hating the men who had tried to push themselves on her over the years, he brushed a butterfly kiss to her cheek and acted as if nothing was wrong. “You are so sweet,” he told her huskily. “So pretty. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re going to be just fine.”
Never taking his eyes from hers, he buttoned her blouse with steady fingers, talking all the while, until he finally felt the tension slowly drain out of her. He started to smile reassuringly at her, then he saw the tears. “Oh, honey, don’t cry. It’s okay. The time will come when everything’s right for us.”
Too late, he realized the last thing he should have done was show her sympathy. The tears filling her eyes spilled over her lashes, and with a whimper of hurt, she threw herself into his arms. “No, it won’t! How can it? Look at me. I can’t even let you touch me.”
“What are you talking about?” he said with a confused frown. “You were wonderful!”
“But I panicked again.”
“Not at first,” he pointed out. “You were doing great until things really heated up between us. Don’t you see how encouraging that is? You’re making real progress.”
Her eyes searching his, Rebecca wanted desperately to believe him. Could he be right? Was she finally getting past the hangups that had destroyed every other friendship she’d ever had with a man? It hadn’t felt like it when she’d stiffened in his arms just moments before, but now that the fear had faded and she could remember every touch, every kiss clearly, hope bloomed in her heart like a rose in the desert.
“I wanted to make love to you,” she said, amazed. “I still do. I just can’t—”
“You don’t have to make excuses,” he cut in quietly. “I understand. Building trust takes time, and this is a huge step for you. We’re going to take it one day at a time.”
Tears stung her eyes again, but this time, they were tears of joy rather than disappointment. She’d touched him and kissed him, and his hair was dishevelled because she, Rebecca Powell, like a virgin mistress, had done that! And she was damn proud of herself. She’d loved the feel of his hands on her—and hers on him. When his arms had closed around her right before the panic had set in and he’d kissed her like there was no tomorrow, she’d known what it was like to be truly desired by a man.
And for no other reason than that, she could have loved him. He had no idea how much courage he’d inspired in her just with his patience and understanding.
“I’m going to find a way to get past this,” she promised him and herself. “I don’t know how or when, but I’m going to work at it. And one day soon, I’m going to make love with you the way I long to.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he replied huskily as he rose and held out his hands to help her to her feet. “Because I want that as much as you do. In the meantime, though, I think you’d better walk me to the door. It’s getting late and I need to get out of here before I forget my good intentions.”
He wouldn’t do that—she knew that now—but it was getting late and she did have to work tomorrow. So she walked him to the door, and this time when he kissed her good night, it wasn’t on the cheek. And when her heart started to flutter, it wasn’t with anything close to fear. And long after he left and the front door closed behind him, she stood there smiling, feeling like she’d just won the lottery.
“I’ve decided I need a vacation.”
Seated at the breakfast table across from his wife, Joe glanced up from his morning paper at her announcement and frowned. “Do you think that’s wise? The police—”
That was as far as he got. In the process of taking a sip of her coffee, she set her cup down with a snap and screeched, “I’m sick and tired of worrying about the police and the damn shooting! That’s all anyone’s been talking about for weeks. ‘We need to talk to you down at the station, Mrs. Colton. Where were you when the shot was fired? Why don’t you know who the shooter was? Weren’t you involved?’” she mimicked.
“No one said that,” he said, shocked.
“They didn’t have to. Do you think I don’t know what they’re thinking? I’m not an idiot. I’m tired of the questions, tired of the suspicious looks, tired of everything.”
When her shoulders slumped and tears glistened in her eyes, Joe found himself almost feeling sorry for her. There’d been a time in their marriage when he would have stepp
ed around the table and taken her into his arms at the first sign of tears from her, but not anymore. He’d been stung too many times by her sharp tongue over the last nine years to risk that again.
Instead, he stayed where he was and lifted a dark brow at her. “So where are you going?”
With a flip of an invisible switch, her mood brightened. “Palm Springs,” she said promptly. “Carly Templeton told me about a wonderful new spa that just opened two weeks ago, and I thought I would try it out.”
Carly Templeton was the wife of a California congressman and the most shallow woman Joe had ever met. And she and Meredith were thick as thieves. Normally, he had little good to say about her, but if she was the one who’d given Meredith the idea for this sudden trip, he’d have to be nice to her the next time he saw her. He needed some time to himself.
Immediately feeling guilty at the thought, he said quietly, “When are you leaving?”
“In a few moments,” she retorted. “I’ve already told the boys goodbye and had Marco put my bags in the car.”
Not surprised that he was the last to know, Joe would have laughed if the situation hadn’t have been so pitiful. And he was feeling guilty? Like hell! “Have a good time,” he growled, gathering his paper and rising to his feet. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
Oh, she was going to have a good time, all right, Patsy thought with a wicked gleam in her eyes as he walked out. She was going to be sinfully pampered at the spa for an ungodly amount of his money. But first she had to stop in L.A. for a meeting. She’d arranged with the hitman who would take care of dear, precious Emily once and for all. By the time she came home, she, at least, would no longer be a problem.
Grinning, she grabbed her purse and keys, and within moments, she was behind the wheel of her newest present to herself, a sporty little BMW, and on her way to Palm Springs. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time.
An hour later, wearing a curly black wig and a pair of dark sunglasses, Patsy drove into one of the seediest neighborhoods in L.A. The place looked like a war zone. Windows were broken out of vacant, run-down buildings, trash littered the streets, and hopelessness and bitterness permeated the area.
