Lost But Not Forgotten

by Roz Denny Fox

  Mitch drummed his fingers in time to the background beat. “I can’t judge you, Gilly. Not after seeing you with the babies. You love kids. It shows.”

  “So, you don’t think I acted selfishly?”

  He glanced at her quickly, then away again. “Are you looking for someone to say unequivocally that you were wrong? Is this self-flagellation?”

  She inspected her fingernails in the light that flashed inside the cab from passing cars. “Maybe. It was the beginning of the end of my marriage. Yes, I feel guilty. Daryl might still be alive and we wouldn’t be skulking through the night if I hadn’t expressly gone against a wish he’d made quite clear.”

  “The bad thing about playing if only, Gilly, is that you can play the blame game until hell freezes over and the outcome doesn’t change. I know. I spent weeks after my surgery trying to figure out what would’ve happened if Tony DeSalvo hadn’t heard me climbing in Ethan’s front window. Maybe he wouldn’t have shot up Ethan’s house and knocked Regan around. Then again, if I hadn’t drawn his fire, he might have killed us all. Things happen for a reason.”

  “I guess.”

  They sank again into silence until they’d traveled beyond the outskirts of Phoenix. Mitch stopped to gas the truck at a well-lit truck stop. Gillian went inside to find a ladies’ room and buy him the peanut-butter crackers and bottled water he requested.

  “Find everything okay?” he asked when she crawled back into the cab.

  “I never realized how many kinds of crackers there are on the market. I ended up buying three varieties,” she said, dumping the sack between them. “It’s a good thing water is water,” she added, unscrewing the lid on a bottle she handed Mitch.

  “Well, no,” he said, grinning. “There’s mineral water and soda water and spring water—ouch!”

  She’d swatted his arm.

  Their mood continued to lighten as they left the city lights behind. Traffic thinned once they entered open country and entered the first switchback of a winding highway.

  “Is it my imagination, or have you lost even more weight while I was off chasing your car?” Mitch asked her.

  She looked surprised. “I haven’t weighed myself, but I’ve been eating. In fact, this week I’ve been ravenous.”

  “Huh. Good. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Mitch, will you tell me something honestly?” Gillian asked when she’d crumpled his snack wrappers and stowed them in the empty sack.

  “If I can. I’ve found that whenever people start a question by asking that, they usually want an answer to the impossible.”

  She swallowed a big dose of guilty conscience along with her gulp of water.

  “So, shoot. What were you going to ask?”

  “The impossible,” she admitted, her lips twitching.

  They both laughed. “I’ll bet I can guess what you were going to ask,” Mitch teased. “You’re wondering if Ethan will arrest Capputo and Turbin, and if they’ll sing their rotten heads off so someone can nail the bastard at the top and you’ll be free.”

  “How did you know?”

  He reached across the empty space and stroked her trembling hand. “It’s natural. I felt the same way until a jury handed down its verdict, putting DeSalvo behind bars for life.”

  Gillian drew comfort from his warm hand. “You and Pat Malone said it’s almost impossible to pin anything substantial on men in the upper echelons of crime syndicates. How can I help being concerned?”

  Mitch linked their fingers. “I wish you’d let me and Ethan do the worrying. Ethan, mostly. If he builds a strong enough case to forward to New Orleans, that ought to ensure Lenny and Foss get hard time. When underlings are faced with taking the full rap, they start to squeal on the folks who hired them. More and more mobs are breaking up. Of course, it’d help if we found that key. Malone believes that whatever Daryl has hidden will be the final touch.”

  “If is the biggest little word,” Gillian lamented.

  Bringing their joined hands to his lips, Mitch eased her fingers loose so he could press a kiss onto her palm.

  Gillian shivered. Not in fear this time. She recognized the heat of desire spreading slowly through her body. She’d tried not to miss him—but she had.

  Without stopping to think, she unfastened her seatbelt, slid closer to Mitch, and buckled herself into the center lap belt.

  His eyes, caught in a sliver of moonlight, glittered with approval and something more. A sound of male satisfaction hummed in his throat as he placed his arm around her, urging her against the hollow of his shoulder.

  “Are we climbing?” She sat forward.

  “Yep.” Mitch tugged her back where he thought she belonged.

  She sprang up again. “I feel curves.”

  “Hey, isn’t that my line?” he murmured in a sexy voice. Indeed his right hand was making a thorough exploration of Gillian’s curves.

  Taken by surprise, she felt her body flow against him, even as she batted at his arm. “Watch the road.”

  “Okay, but don’t worry. There aren’t any drop-offs,” he murmured.

  “I climbed a big mountain getting to Flagstaff. You know, I’d never imagined mountains in the desert.” Sighing, she sank back against him. “I wish it was daylight. What I can see by the light of the moon seems beautiful. Almost unearthly.”

  “I told you it’s a slice of heaven. I don’t know exactly where Noreen’s condo is, but from her map I think her terrace overlooks the red rocks. If so, we’ll have coffee on the terrace. I promise you’re in for a real treat.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  After yawning repeatedly, Gilly dropped off to sleep about an hour from their destination. Exhausted himself, every chance he got, Mitch turned his head to watch her sleeping. Her new look took some getting used to. Yet long before he passed through the village of Oak Creek and turned at the bridge that led into Sedona, he’d fallen for her all over again.

  He hated to wake her up, especially as it was nearly midnight. Even then, a few die-hard visitors still roamed the streets, window-shopping. Noreen had said her complex had off-street parking. That appealed to Mitch. He’d kept an eye on his rearview mirror throughout the drive—without Gilly’s noticing. Mitch didn’t believe they’d been followed, but with the curving road he couldn’t be totally sure.

  It was a good thing he’d waited until she fell asleep to phone Ethan, though. Mitch was mildly disturbed by what his former partner had to say. Her car was clean as a whistle. Even more bothersome, a reliable snitch of Ethan’s attested to the fact that Capputo and Turpin had, just yesterday, flashed big bills around a local tavern. Then, as though someone had flipped a switch, today the men had vanished into thin air.

  Apparently the engine’s silence caused Gillian to stir. She sat up, blinked and gazed, eyes slightly unfocused at Mitch. “Are we there?”

  “Yes. Are you awake enough to walk inside?”

  She nodded, but fumbled with her seat belt.

  He released it for her and helped her out. “I’ll grab the bag Regan packed for you, and your little case with the, uh…Katie’s things. We’ll follow that cinder path around to those wooden stairs. Thank goodness the grounds are well-lit.”

  “You don’t think we’re in danger here, do you?” She was so close on his heels she almost tripped.

  “Relax. We’re fine.” He unlocked the door to the condo, reached inside and switched on an interior light.

  “Oh, isn’t it beautiful?” Gillian turned around slowly, soaking in the simplicity of the furnishings. All light wood and Southwestern colors—perfect for this room with its huge windows and sand-colored walls.

  “Small.”

  “But comfortable. Noreen obviously likes love seats,” she remarked. “Remember, she had one in her living room at the house in Phoenix, as well.”

  Mitch said something indiscernible from an adjacent room.

  “What?” Gilly called, slipping off her jacket. The minute she entered the bedro
om she saw what had him concerned. This was a one-bedroom condo. With a large, comfortable-looking bed, but all the same, just one. And neither one of them would fit on those small love seats.

  “Look, I didn’t know,” he said.

  “The bed’s as big as a football field. Can’t we share?”

  Their eyes met across the Southwest-print comforter. “I still haven’t bought any protection, Gillian.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t an invitation to have sex.”

  “I consider what we did a few weeks ago making love,” he said. “That night at your place… Well, I don’t know if I can ignore you like that again. And if we share, I don’t want there to be any confusion. When I’m in bed with a woman, the only pattern analysis on my mind is how well two bodies merge into one.”

  Gillian dropped her jacket on the floor and sank to the bed on one knee, trying not to think about long-term consequences of what she had in mind. Eyes steadily on his, she raised her arms. “I’m not planning to read gardening magazines tonight, Mitch.”

  She might have wanted him to say something—a few endearments, maybe. The snick of the light switch plunging the room into darkness was all she got from Mitch Valetti.

  His silence would have bothered her if he hadn’t undressed her with such reverence and touched her so tenderly that a lack of words didn’t matter. Tonight, it was enough to know they were safe. To know that Mitch was one of the good guys. To know she was powerless to change how she felt about him and equally powerless to change their circumstances.

  Mitch represented the very best of the good guys in Gillian’s estimation. If this short week was all the time she would be granted to love him, then so be it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE PLAY of light across his face woke Mitch the next morning. He stretched before fully opening his eyes. When he did pry them open, wearing little more than a satisfied grin, he expected to find Gillian curled beside him in a similar state.

  Her side of the bed was empty, giving him a sense of déjà vu.

  Throwing aside the covers, Mitch bounded out into the cool air, his heart thumping wildly because of her absence. He started toward the living room, then doubled back for his jeans. Hopping on one foot, he finally got them up over his hips.

  His heart fell into a more normal rhythm when the scent of coffee swirled around him. Gillian had obviously found Noreen’s supplies. Too bad she hadn’t turned up the thermostat. Mitch shivered. He’d forgotten how chilly Arizona mountain air could be.

  Cold though he was, he made his way barefoot and shirtless to the kitchen. His concern didn’t fully abate until he saw a flash of red on the patio, and realized he was looking through the sliding glass door at Gilly. Wrapped in a quilt whose edges flapped in the breeze, she sat transfixed by the first rays of sun highlighting the reddish layers of Coffee Pot Rock.

  She looked so adorable, he didn’t take time to pour himself coffee. Instead, he slid back the glass door and hauled her into his arms for a good-morning kiss.

  Gillian returned his effusive welcome. When they finally broke apart, Mitch entertained visions of heading right back to bed…with her.

  “Oh, my God. You were so right, Mitch!” Gilly threw her arms outward as if to embrace the view. “This is heavenly. Truly the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Watching the sun come up by inches and spill out all that glorious color was an incredible experience.”

  “Mmm,” he said, swooping down to kiss her again. “Last night was a pretty incredible experience.”

  “It was,” she said, tracing two fingertips around the laugh lines bracketing his lips. “Magnificent. Just not as spiritual as seeing the sun rise. Unless it’s a combination of the two that’s left me feeling so good.”

  “I’d like to take full credit. But more than likely you can attribute your mood to the Harmonic Convergence of Sedona.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The area boasts six vortexes. They’re literally fields of concentrated energy. Magnetic, some say. Metaphysical, according to New Agers. If you’re interested, we can go for a walk later today and pick up some literature.”

  “Then we aren’t confined to the condo?”

  He thought for a minute. In light of Gillian’s enthusiasm, he deliberately turned a deaf ear to Ethan’s last dispatch regarding Turpin and Capputo’s disappearance. “We can go out within reason. Sedona is an experience I’d hate you to miss.”

  She threw her arms around him and pelted kisses over his eyes, nose and lips. “I want to go now and look around town. Do some shopping. Get your shoes on, Mitch.”

  “Hey, hey,” he said weakly, bowled over by her barrage of kisses. She didn’t object too strenuously, however, when he carried her back to bed for another hour of unhurried lovemaking.

  “Heading our list,” Mitch murmured lazily, after they’d untangled their limbs. “A supply of condoms.”

  “Is your philosophy better late than never?” Gillian tossed aside the covers and presented him with her naked back. She couldn’t say exactly why, but a knot of disappointment tightened in her stomach. Last night and this morning had been utterly fantastic. So wonderful that she’d dropped her guard and begun to hope for a shared experience that might lead to…to something permanent.

  Curled contentedly in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his pulse, Gillian had dared to dream again. She’d lost hope for the future when Katie died. Now, with Mitch, her heart had begun to thaw and make room for foolish possibilities.

  “Gilly?”

  “Hm?” She heard the rustle of sheets and assumed he’d seen her tense up. Gathering her clothing, which he’d ripped off in haste, she dashed into the bathroom before Mitch could question her further. She’d made one bad marriage. If Mitch had other ideas about this relationship, if he shied away from commitment because he’d once been burned, she wouldn’t pressure him into anything. The sex was fabulous. Surely she was modern enough to enjoy a no-strings affair. And if it turned out to be too late to avoid the pregnancy he feared, then he need never know. Quite simple, really.

  Only a tiny shred of concern connected with pregnancy itself remained on the fringes of her mind. After all, the OB who delivered Katie told her nothing had been genetically wrong. He said the odds of having a second stillborn were one in two million.

  Gillian stepped under a hot shower, fully prepared to accept any outcome that might be the result of their lovemaking.

  FLOPPING BACK on the pillow, Mitch considered joining Gillian in the shower. It was tempting—but he hadn’t misread her body language when he’d brought up the subject of buying condoms. Was she worried that she might already be pregnant? Last time that came up, she’d been quick to point out how highly unlikely such a result might be. She’d said nothing of the kind today.

  He drummed his fingers on his bare chest while mulling over possible ways of getting her to see a doctor. Relaxed by the sound of the shower, he soon drifted off.

  He surged up like a shot approximately an hour later, awakened by the slam of the outside door. He charged out of bed, naked again, only this time he didn’t bother donning pants before tearing into the living room.

  Midway across the floor, he collided with Gillian, who was marching toward the kitchen. The plastic sack she held flew up and out of her arms. Groceries rained around them, including a dozen eggs, one of which broke atop Mitch’s bare foot.

  “Where in hell have you been?” he demanded at the same time she shouted, “What do you mean racing out here like some demented fool?” Kneeling, she snatched at grocery items. Suddenly she went still and started to cry.

  Mitch made a bad job of trying to scoop up the slimy egg intact, all the while trying to console her. “I’m sorry I yelled, Gilly. But dammit all, you scared me, slamming the door like that. Anyway, why would you go out alone?”

  “To buy your stupid condoms,” she returned, throwing the box at his head seconds before stomping into the kitchen, her chin raised to an angle that
dared Mitch to say one more word.

  He successfully ducked the flying box, waddling off the hardwood to the kitchen tile, trying to keep the runny egg white on his foot from dripping.

  Gillian started to brush past him, going for a second load. Her gaze lit on the dark-red indentations where bullets had pierced his flesh. A network of scars fanned out where surgeons had repaired his shattered hip. “Lord, Mitch.” She reached out to touch him, then withdrew, struggling to find words to articulate her feelings of sorrow. “I hadn’t noticed how…how bad your scars are until now. Please, forgive me for carrying on like that.”

  “Gilly, Gilly. It’s all right.” Mitch dumped the sloppy egg yolk down the sink, ripped off a paper towel and mopped his foot. “Luckily, you have lousy aim,” he said, in an attempt to divert her. When Mitch first moved into the Knights’ house, Ethan and Regan had also tended to smother him with care and concern. Mitch wasn’t used to it.

  “I know I shouldn’t have gone out by myself,” she babbled. “But you can look out the window and see the convenience store across the street. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.”

  He bundled her into his arms, loving the feel of her still-cool jacket and jeans against his naked skin. “One of us is overdressed,” he said in a husky whisper, raising his head after kissing her quiet.

  “Me,” she sighed against his mouth.

  Turning together, they stepped over the scattered items still on the floor, including the condoms, and tumbled back into bed.

  The normal hours for both breakfast and lunch had passed when they eventually surfaced again. This time they did shower together. Gillian gently soaped Mitch’s angry-looking scars, and knew he was telling only half the truth when he said they didn’t bother him much. The area was tender to her softest touch. She left the shower loathing the cruelty one human being could inflict on another.

  Late though it was, Gillian used the eggs she’d managed to salvage to make an omelette. They didn’t rush their meal and smiled often, entwining their fingers across the table in the way of new lovers.