Caught in the Act (The Davenports)

by Law, Kim

  “You didn’t date, then? Before?”

  “Before our summer?” She shook her head. “No. I expected we would eventually date, but it wasn’t pressing, you know? I had things to do, he had things to do. His family was very much like mine. We attended dinners and events together. Although his parents were considerably more laid-back than mine. But the summer I came home—” She broke off, having almost said the summer she came home from having Annabelle. She tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “The summer after us,” she said instead, “I’d been away. At boarding school.” She told the lie easily. It was one she’d repeated to her friends back then. Even to her brothers. “When I came home that summer, it seemed like time.”

  “You didn’t want to come back up here?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t have come up here. “I thought we were over,” she whispered.

  He nodded as if he understood. “I came up just to make sure.”

  “You were here the next summer?” She hadn’t expected that. He’d been the one to quit calling her. Why would he have come back?

  “Only for a few days,” he admitted. “I had my license by then.” He shrugged. “There were a few other things I needed to do, but I had to make sure you hadn’t come back first.”

  She didn’t understand. If he’d changed his mind about them months before, why would he have bothered looking for her again?

  “What happened next?” he asked before she could form the question. “I saw a picture of you two that summer. I knew you were dating.”

  “How did you see us?”

  “In a DC paper.”

  “You got a DC paper? When you were sixteen?”

  He looked away from her then, his profile solid and firm, and she wanted to reach over and caress it. “I’ve always been into history,” he explained. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I’ve read newspapers from all over the world my whole life.”

  She’d forgotten that he’d always been that way, but yeah, even at fifteen, he’d routinely mentioned some story or another that he’d read in a paper.

  “I also saw your wedding photo a few years later,” he admitted.

  Surprise kept her from speaking.

  “I was engaged at the time,” he added casually.

  She sat up straighter, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. “Was? What happened?”

  “The marriage itself didn’t happen,” he explained. “I had a teaching position at Georgetown back then. I came home one day and we had a fight. She chose to . . . go a different path than marriage. I chose to come here.”

  Cat stared at him. The story sounded simple, but he still wasn’t making eye contact. There was more to it.

  “How did you meet?”

  “In school. She was from Bar Harbor. She went to St. Mary’s like me.”

  “And then you moved to DC?”

  “She had an interest in politics.” He grew quiet before nodding. “And I had a bit of an interest at the time, myself.”

  “Yet you didn’t go into politics?”

  “My interests changed.”

  Again, she could tell there were things left unsaid. She studied him, trying to figure out how to get him to open up, but the set of his jaw indicated that wouldn’t be happening.

  So she switched gears. “Any other serious relationships?”

  He shook his head.

  “Kids?” She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about that before. He could have kids tucked away somewhere.

  Again with the head shake. This time there seemed to be sadness with the movement, and she couldn’t help but picture him with a small, pink bundle in his arms. Then she pictured him with fifteen kids hanging on his every word at the museum.

  “You would make a great dad,” she said softly.

  His mouth twitched as he peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. “My mom says the same thing. It wasn’t meant to be, I suppose.”

  Guilt turned her gaze back to the ocean.

  After a couple more minutes of silence, she pulled herself away from her memories and swallowed past the burn now lining her throat. “So you lived in DC for a while. When did you move up here?”

  “The semester after the engagement ended. The college had a position open, and I’d made a good impression while attending. Plus, I like the ocean. I had nice memories of being here.” He flicked his gaze at her. “Of one particular summer here. So I bought a house. I had some money saved up. I chose the beach so I could sit out on my deck and watch the sun rise with a beautiful woman if I wanted to.”

  His words made her tuck herself in closer to him. It was a good way to start the day.

  “What was your degree in?” she asked.

  He picked up her hand. “A double major in history and psychology.”

  She watched as he traced her fingers with his thumb. “I went to an all-girls school,” she told him.

  “I know.”

  His movements on her hand were hypnotic, but somehow she dragged her gaze up to his. “You seem to know a lot about me.”

  He nodded. “I also know that you spent a couple years in the peace corps. I don’t remember where.”

  She eyed him thoughtfully. Had he been keeping tabs on her?

  “I like to read the news,” he explained defensively. “I told you. And the Davenports have always had a penchant for making the news.”

  That was true. Even when she didn’t want to. But her parents had played up her joining the corps to help showcase what a caring, nurturing family they were. She had no doubt the story would have run in several of the papers Brody read.

  At the feel of his lips brushing over her hair, she swallowed around the lump in her throat. Them being together was so easy.

  “Guyana,” she said. “I spent twenty-seven months there.” She hadn’t wanted to head directly off to college the minute she’d graduated high school. She’d needed to get away. Needed time to mentally recover from giving her baby away.

  Her mother had protested, of course. Cat should be with the family, with her dad’s campaign. Blah, blah, blah. But Cat had used the family against her mother that time. How great would it look for a Davenport to give back by joining the peace corps? Of course, then her mother had gotten the story run worldwide.

  Joe had been at West Point by then, so they’d dated long-distance. By the time she’d come home, she’d been almost ready to deal with her life again.

  Or at least she’d been better equipped to fake it. Some things never completely went away.

  “Tell me about being over there,” Brody urged.

  As if he could sense what those twenty-seven months had meant to her, he encouraged her to talk about them. She told him about working with the kids, learning their language, and even about bathing in a creek.

  “A Davenport bathed in a creek?” he asked. He still had his arm around her, and his palm now stroked up and down her bare arm. Steady winds washed over them as the soothing waters lapped closer to his deck. The aroma of salt clung heavily in the air and the sun became a bright ball of light making them squint into the day.

  “There were no cameras around during those times,” she pointed out. “And yeah, it was either bathe in the creek or go dirty.”

  “I would’ve liked to have seen that.”

  “Me dirty?” she glanced up at him.

  He dropped a kiss on her nose. “You in the middle of all those kids. In the middle of a third world country. You being dirty and disheveled. Just being . . . real.”

  She nodded. She knew what he meant. And she had been.

  There had been no headlines to make, no butts to be covered.

  It had been all about the people of Guyana. The time spent with them had helped to heal her broken spirit.

  It was one of the best times of her life.

  “Si
nce we’re unburdening ourselves of secrets,” he began after a couple of minutes of silence, but didn’t continue until she looked up at him. “I have one for you.”

  Her entire body tensed as it went on alert.

  “What?” she asked cautiously. She tried to pull out of his grasp but he didn’t allow it. He kept her tucked close, his arm tight around her.

  “I found out something interesting last week,” he said. There was a grimace on his face.

  It couldn’t be that bad if he’d just found it out. “What is it?”

  He swallowed, and her nervousness remained high.

  “Your mother once called my mother.”

  Cat’s jaw loosened. She could think of no reason her mother would have to call Annabelle Hollister. Ever. “I don’t understand.”

  “She called the house after she’d already told me that you’d moved on.”

  She was missing something. “What do you mean moved on?”

  “Found someone else. As in, another guy.”

  “Back then? But I hadn’t,” she muttered. “Not until the next . . .” A dark cloud suddenly seemed to loom overheard as answers began to form. Her heart raced. “When did she tell you that?”

  “About three weeks after we left Maine.”

  “But—” She clamped her mouth shut. The missing puzzle piece had finally clicked into place, and anger spread quickly throughout her body. Her mother had been the reason Brody had stopped calling. Why had that never occurred to her?

  From the day Cat had come home and announced she’d met the boy she wanted to someday marry, her mother had been against the idea of Brody. She’d gone so far a week later as to forbid Cat from talking to him again. Cat hadn’t stopped.

  Of course her mother would have figured out another way to end it. Didn’t her mother always do “whatever it took”?

  “And you believed her?” she asked. That hurt as well.

  “I’d called several times and you were out.” His fingers tightened on her arm. “She can be convincing.”

  A cracked laugh escaped Cat. Couldn’t they all? It was a talent her family had.

  Not only had she and her mother kept the pregnancy from her brothers, but from her own father as well. The one person Cat had felt safest with in the world.

  She’d never once gotten to cry on her father’s shoulder because she’d given up her baby.

  Because her baby had died and she hadn’t been there for her.

  “Why did my mother call yours?” She pulled out of his arms now, and crossed hers over her chest. “And does it have anything to do with you not returning my calls?”

  When he’d quit calling her, she’d finally given up and tried him. Twice. The first time, his mother had said she’d pass along the message, but Cat had known Brody wouldn’t be calling. She’d heard it in the tone of Annabelle Hollister’s voice.

  The second time had been months later. Annabelle had told her not to call again.

  “She wanted to make sure my mom understood that I was not to talk to you again,” Brody confirmed. “Ever.”

  Yep.

  Cat should have known.

  “Sometimes I could hate my mother,” she whispered quietly. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. In fact, she hadn’t realized she’d been thinking it at all. Or ever thought it.

  But she did, and she had.

  Her mother ran her household with an iron fist, and it had always been that way. She still ran her family that way. But Cat had resented it more than once in her lifetime. She just hadn’t allowed herself to admit it.

  Emma Davenport had acted like their family was damned near perfect, and she expected them all to behave that way. But the last few weeks, Cat had seen the Davenports were a long way from perfection.

  Cat wasn’t the only one who had potentially brought shame to their good name.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  He eyed her. The wind whipped across them as if as angry as she. And she could tell that there was something else. She saw it in his eyes.

  But he shook his head no.

  “What is it?” she demanded. Fear burned inside her. Did she even want to know?

  Did she even know who her mother was?

  Again, he shook his head in a negative motion. “I could hate her, too,” he told her. Meaning her mother. Because she’d ended them before they’d been able to figure it out on their own.

  “Why did you call me months later?” Brody suddenly prodded.

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. She’d been seven months pregnant and terrified she was making a mistake. She’d wanted him to come rescue her from her life.

  “I was just thinking about you that day,” she finally said. “It’d been a while.”

  “Yeah.” He held his hand out to her and she put hers in it. “I missed you, too,” he said.

  Not allowing the anger to completely overwhelm her, Cat sat there, her hand in Brody’s, and watched the rhythm of the rolling water. Her mother had made sure Brody wouldn’t find out about the pregnancy. She’d had a hand in things from the moment Cat had peed on a stick. And no one was going to get in Emma Davenport’s way.

  The sun climbed higher. It was going to be a beautiful day.

  Cat didn’t feel so beautiful. She should have guessed what had been going on.

  She should have known better.

  “You okay?” Brody asked.

  She nodded. “I take it your mother just told you about this?”

  “Last Wednesday. She saw that you were back in town and came clean. Apparently the guilt of not passing along your messages had eaten at her over time.”

  “Must be nice to have a mother with a conscience.” Cat smirked. She couldn’t blame Annabelle Hollister for her part in things. The woman hadn’t known about the baby.

  Brody chuckled lightly and tugged on Cat’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You have to be freezing out here.” His voice dropped lower. “But you do look really good in my T-shirt.”

  She smiled then. It was forced, but the small act made her feel better. She liked wearing Brody’s shirt. And she liked having mornings like this with him—though she could do without discovering past lies. “If we go in, will you warm me up?” she taunted.

  “Absolutely.” His arm slid around her once again, and he lifted her face to his. The concern and understanding on his features eased her anger. But just a fraction. Her mother had wronged both of them. Yeah, Cat should have pushed harder. It was her life; had been her baby. But she’d been only a kid. A kid who should have been able to trust her mother to do the right thing.

  “Thanks for telling me.” She didn’t have to like the facts. However, she was glad to know them.

  Brody smoothed his fingers over her face then, as if committing her to memory. “I should have told you Tuesday morning. After . . .”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.” He probably should have told her after they’d first gotten together. But then, they were supposed to be just sex. “But we all have reasons why we do things.”

  Once again, a shadow passed through his eyes and she wondered what else he hadn’t told her. But then, maybe some secrets were best left undiscovered.

  The last thing she wanted to worry about right then was what her mother had or had not done in the past. Or what she had done. This was now. This was them. And she only had nine more days to live in this particular moment.

  She touched her mouth to his, and this time, she kissed him. She wanted to show him that she knew him, too. Only, she didn’t pull back when she reached the tipping point. She pushed harder.

  His hands came up to hold the back of her head, and he took over. He lapped at her mouth as if he’d never tasted anything quite so savory, then he angled his head and plunged deep inside.

  She moaned.

  The next moment, she wa
s in his lap. Straddling him, with the blanket no longer around her. It had also become apparent that she hadn’t pulled on underwear along with his T-shirt.

  “Cat,” he breathed her name against her neck as his hands smoothed over her body. He touched her as if he’d never explored such treasures. “You do something to me, lady. Something crazy.”

  She nodded. He did something to her, too.

  Then he kissed her again, and she put everything else in her life out of her mind.

  It was a shock when he abruptly pulled away a few minutes later, but it took her only a couple of seconds to realize why. Her phone was ringing.

  “It’s probably my kids.” She thunked her forehead against his, their ragged breaths mingling.

  “That’s what I was thinking. But they’re early this morning.”

  He was right. The sun had just come up. Her kids should still be asleep.

  Worry settled in as she slid from Brody’s lap and moved to get the phone from where he’d slid it across the deck. But when she picked it up, she saw that it wasn’t Becca calling, but JP. “It’s not the kids,” she said. She didn’t answer it. She didn’t want her morning to be interrupted just yet.

  When it quit ringing, she muted the sound, but a text came in before she could put the phone away and return to Brody.

  Call as soon as you can. It’s important.

  It was from JP.

  Then she saw that another call had come in that neither of them had heard. That one had been from Bennett.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. The phone signaled that yet another text had arrived.

  Catherine, call home. Your brother and I need to speak with you immediately.

  She felt sick to her stomach as she read her mother’s words.

  Had the Harrisons somehow figured it out? That Bennett wasn’t biologically a Davenport? But how would they know that? How would anyone but her mother and the man who’d gotten her pregnant possibly know that?

  “Everything okay?” Brody came up behind her.

  She shook her head. “I think something has happened.”