by Mindy Neff
Before she could get a better look at the watch, he put his hand in his lap, and the table blocked her view.
“What would you buy if you had unlimited funds?”
“I don’t know that I’d want unlimited funds. I would, however, buy a house big enough to take in all the kids who are forced on the streets without a choice.”
“That’d take a pretty big house.”
“Maybe.” She corralled a strand of hair that blew in her face and clung to her Up gloss. Adam’s gaze tracked the movement, lingering, making her skin heat.
“So, is that your dream, Molly? To run a halfway house for kids?”
“Yes, I suppose it is. It’s just that there are so many out there in need.”
“True.” He pointed to her paper cup. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”
“It’s iced caffè latte. Want a taste?” She pushed the cup toward him. When his sculpted lips touched the rim, memory, sharp and swift, zinged her. Memories of a scene just like this, of Jason and her discussing their dreams, of sharing the same cup of iced caffè latte.
It hurt so much that tears stung her eyes.
She saw Adam’s fingers tighten around the paper holder, watched him carefully place the cup back on the table. Their eyes met, and Molly had trouble looking away. There was something there, something she felt she should recognize. Cars cruised the boule-vard behind them and horns blared, but none of this registered.
The moment spun out, enclosing them in a private cocoon, a fantasy bubble where questions might have been asked, answers might have been given. An instant, powerful connection that mesmerized.
A kid on in-line skates whizzed by, skates scraping against the sidewalk. Molly blinked, dragging herself back to reality.
“Sorry. I don’t know what it is about you, but you keep poking at my memories.” The look that came over him was so familiar. It was a look she’d seen on her own face in the mirror countless times over the past year.
Were she and Adam Walsh kindred spirits? Had he, too, known the pain of loss? A love so deep there could never be another to compare or replace it?
“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly.
“No. I mean, unless you want to. It can’t be comfortable for a man when a woman is thinking about somebody else…” She rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks flush. “Not that there’s anything between us, or that you’d even care that I was thinking about…” She buried her face in her hands. “Good grief. Don’t pay any attention to me. Just forget I said anything.”
His strong shoulders lifted. She saw the utter desolation that flashed in his light brown eyes.
Something terrible was eating at this man.
Change the subject, she told herself. She didn’t have any room in her heart or her life for the sadness of another man. Teenagers, yes. A man who could possibly have relationship on his mind, no.
She had enough sadness of her own to deal with, thank you very much. And although she sometimes thought she could fix the whole world, she couldn’t.
“I’m glad you realize that,” Adam said.
Her insides lurched. “I swear I’m going to wear tin foil over my head or something.”
She knew the exact instant he realized what he’d done. His lips twisted in self-disgust. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”
She reached across the table, started to touch him and changed her mind. “I can’t begin to understand what it’s like for you, but I think you should treat it as a gift.”
His gaze focused on the traffic behind her. “It’s a gift I’d rather not have.”
“Have you always been this sensitive?”
“No. It’s a recent development.”
She wanted to know how recent, but she could see he was about to draw into himself, so she changed the subject. “You said you live in that expensive area south of me. Tell me it’s not one of those great old mansions I drool over.”
His gaze settled back on her, speculative, probing, making her feel as if there was some elusive detail she’d missed, something she should remember.
“Okay, it’s not.”
Molly blinked. “It’s not?”
“Actually it is. But you told me to tell you—”
She tossed her napkin at him. With his quick reflexes, he snagged it before it hit him in the face.
“I don’t suppose you conduct guided tours?”
“I haven’t so far. The place is pretty sparse. I haven’t been in town long, and I haven’t had a chance to do much furniture shopping.”
“Your house is empty?”
“Not totally. The previous owners left a few antiques and some pictures of some old guys on the wall.”
For some reason, that tickled Molly. “You have pictures of somebody else’s family on your walls?”
“Sure, why not?”
Didn’t he have family of his own? she wondered. Jason hadn’t. Really, though, it was none of her business.
“Speaking of mansions and money,” she said before she could stop herself, “there’s a dinner dance tomorrow night at the Pasadena Ritz. It’s a charity function put on by the Chamber of Commerce. The proceeds will go toward getting our kids off the streets.”
“A cause that’s close to your heart.”
“It’s a project I’m very active in, yes. Is there any chance I can twist your arm and get you to buy a ticket?”
“You’re a shameless hustler, Miss Kincade.”
“For my kids, absolutely.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes.” Everything within her stilled at the speculation in his watchful gaze. “You could make a donation, or, uh, you could go with me if you wanted.” Now, why had she said that? She usually went to these things alone. “It wouldn’t be like a date or anything,” she stressed.
“It could be,” he said, his voice low and intimate.
Goose bumps broke out on Molly’s arms, and her heart pounded. She shook her head.
“Do you want my money or not?”
“How much money?”
“More than the price of a ticket.” When her eyes widened, he tacked on dryly. “I meant an additional donation, princess.”
“Oh.”
The corners of his lips tilted slightly. “What time should I pick you up?”
“I could just meet you—” She stopped at the probing look in his eyes. Why was she fighting? If she were honest, she’d admit that she wanted to go with him. “Seven o’clock,” she said.
“Do I need to go out and rent a monkey suit?”
“You mean to tell me you don’t own one?” A rich man without a tux? Unheard-of.
“Used to. Don’t anymore.”
“Then it’d be a good idea to rent one.”
ADAM WAS BEGINNING to learn the students’ names—at least the ones whose surnames began with L through P. Funny how he never realized how much fulfillment he could get out of helping kids.
It should have occurred to him. He’d been one of these kids in the system himself, a potential misfit until Frank Branigan had taken him in and made him toe the line, using a combination of Marine techniques tempered with a streak of genuine, no-nonsense caring.
Watching the crowded hallways, he couldn’t help but wonder how many of these kids shared a similar background to his. He’d never known his father, and after his mom had left him on the steps of a county home like yesterday’s trash, his life had become a seed that just never had the opportunity to germinate and grow roots.
As a boy, he’d clung to the fragile hope of rescue, of his beautiful mother suddenly waltzing back into his life and telling him it was all one big mistake.
But that hadn’t happened, and as the years had stacked up, so had his anger. He’d ended up in several foster homes and by that time, he’d been headed on a fast track downhill.
Cocky enough to think he was above average in intelligence, he’d seen little reason to go to school and ended up skipping most of the time. It was while he’d been roaming the streets
of Hollywood that he’d accidentally stumbled into the middle of a drug bust.
Being in the wrong place at the wrong time had turned out to be an ironic twist of fate. Frank Branigan, an undercover vice cop at the time, had seen something in the angry kid he’d been and gotten him out of the system, taking him in and teaching him about friendship and choices and consequences.
It was too bad Frank couldn’t have foreseen the choices and consequences Adam would one day be forced to confront.
Consequences not of his own making.
Choices painful enough to break even a strong man.
Even a superhuman one.
So, Adam thought, if he’d made the choice to let Molly go, to let her believe he was dead—a fate that could still occur any day now—why was he easing back into her life? Why had he agreed to go with her to the charity function tonight? Hell, he could have just written a check.
He was still grappling for the answer to that question when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Got a minute, Mr. Walsh?”
“Sure, Eddie. What’s up?”
Eddie’s nervous gaze darted along the crowded hall. “Not here, man. Step into my office.”
He followed Eddie into the boys’ bathroom, remembering the last time he’d been in here, how Molly had brazenly burst through this very door, a half-pint spitfire on a mission, her temperament a perfect match for that rich auburn hair.
“Okay,” Adam said. “Looks like your office is empty. What’s with the secrecy?”
Eddie glared, trying for belligerence. He failed. “I don’t rat on friends, but I mighta heard somethin’, ya know?”
“What did you hear?”
“Miss Kincade said I could trust you,” he hedged.
“She’s right, so cut the routine, Eddie. Spill it.”
“My sources—who’ve gotta remain confidential, you understand—tell me Castillo’s got a gun in his locker.”
“Lamar?”
“Yeah, man. He’s been talkin’ kinda crazy…and I don’t want to see nothin’ happen to him. Know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean.”
“Good, then. We’re straight. You’ll handle it…like, discreetly?“
“I’ll handle it, Eddie. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Hey, Eddie,” Adam called before the kid made it out the door. “What’s with the camera?” The 35 mm camera hung from a double loop of chain attached to Eddie’s belt loop.
He gave a cocky grin and a wave. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you, Mr. Walsh. But, hey, maybe you want to shake my hand or somethin’. Never know, I might be famous some day.”
Laughing, Eddie unhooked the camera. The length of chain allowed him to bring it right up to eye level. The flash went off like a strobe light.
“Gotcha. Thanks, man.” He saluted and strutted out the door, his hips and shoulders dipping in a typical teenage rhythm that shouted way too cool.
Adam shook his head and went in search of Lamar’s records. Castillo—with a C Molly had said—wasn’t assigned to him. But it’d be easy enough to look up the kid’s locker number.
Armed with the information, he didn’t bother to wait for passing period to end. He’d be less conspicuous in a crowd, rather than snooping around the lockers when the halls were totally empty.
He found the top locker and twirled the combination of the lock. Nothing happened.
Damn it, the kid hadn’t used the school-issued lock. A dead giveaway that there was something in here he didn’t want found.
As Adam reached for the lock again, the five-minute bell shrilled. Great. Now he wouldn’t have the cover of a crowd.
“Adam? What are you doing?”
Molly.
He had to give himself points for not jumping. Hell, he was getting rusty. “A little search and seizure—without the warrant. Be a pal and stand as lookout, would you?”
“Lookout…Good grief, what if you get caught?”
He grinned when she actually held up her leather satchel as a shield. So much for being inconspicuous. Her long, silky hair swung in a wild arc as her furtive glance darted right and left.
“You mean what if we get caught?”
Molly groaned. “I can’t believe you’re doing this—we’re doing this,” she corrected. “And why are we doing it? No. Never mind. I don’t want to know—”
“Could you put a lid on it, princess? You’re liable to draw a crowd.”
Molly opened her mouth, intending to take issue with his less than charming request, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “Just hurry up, would you?”
The sturdy lock busted with a soft click.
She groaned again, refusing to voice the questions that her nerves were screaming.
She really shouldn’t have been a party to this, Molly told herself. And she shouldn’t have chosen that moment to look.
Sunlight glanced off the barrel of a revolver for a split instant before Adam tucked it under his sweatshirt.
“My God! Whose locker is this?”
With a hand at her back, he urged her away from the bank of lockers. To anyone who cared to look, it appeared that they were innocently heading for their respective classrooms.
“Sorry,” Adam said. “That information is confidential.”
Molly stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. Her mouth opened and closed and opened again, but for the life of her she couldn’t form a coherent word.
Confidential?
Adam’s finger tipped her chin up. Her teeth snapped shut.
“Yeah,” he said softly, his sexy lips kicking up at one corner, “confidential.”
THE DRESS WAS a simple black sheath with rhinestone straps and low-cut bodice that showed more cleavage than Molly was actually comfortable with. It skimmed her curves, clung in all the right places and ended several inches above the knee. Being short sometimes had its disadvantages. The popular style of midcalf made her look dumpy. Down to the floor, forget it.
But there was nothing she could do about the dress that screamed blatant sex appeal. She didn’t have anything else suitable for a fancy dinner. Besides, Adam would be here any minute to pick her up.
She slipped on a pair of four-inch heels, pleased with the added height. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of tiny gold hoop earrings—and the necklace she hadn’t taken off in over a year.
Out of nowhere, a wave of loneliness swooped down on her, catching her unaware, piercing her heart like a red-hot dagger. She reached up and gripped the heart charm, running her fingertip over the uneven edge.
Sometimes she felt as though her own heart were just like this bit of jewelry. Broken. Always searching, longing for the perfect match, the missing piece that fit.
But the other half of the charm was forever lost to her. As was Jason. All she had left were a gold heart severed in two, his picture on her nightstand and her memories.
And a date with a man who would be here any minute now, she realized, catching a glimpse of the bedside alarm clock.
She spritzed a hint of vanilla on her wrists and neck, then picked up her purse and shut off the light.
By the time she made it to the back door, he was there, waiting for her. She could see him through the open blinds of the slider.
He simply took her breath away. Tall, dark and so achingly familiar in a black tuxedo. She didn’t understand the swift, melting attraction that drew her so to this man. It was as if past and present were superimposed in her mind, as if Adam Walsh were somehow playing both parts. His…and Jason’s.
God help her, she was losing it.
He tapped on the glass again, his brows raised in question.
Molly coached herself to breathe and slid open the door. “Sorry about that. I was…admiring you.”
“That’s what I like. A woman who’s direct.”
“Now, don’t go reading anything into it,” she cautioned, both for his and her own benefit. “I believe in honesty. And you, Adam Walsh, do wo
nderful things for a tux.”
“You’re looking pretty good yourself, Molly Kincade.” His gaze touched on her hair, then slowly lowered to her breasts, her hips, her legs—exposed from midthigh down. By the time he finished his leisurely inspection, every nerve ending on Molly’s body hummed.
“That’s some dress.” His low, rough voice touched her like the erotic whisper of a lover, intimate, exciting…a whisper that threatened to turn her world upside down.
“Thank you.” She felt the walls around her heart chipping away. She didn’t know how it happened or when; perhaps she’d shivered and he’d slipped past her defenses.
She did know that some damage control would be in order if she didn’t rein in her emotions.
She was drawn to Adam Walsh, falling…and she was damned scared.
“Don’t do it, princess.”
“Do what?”
“Break your own creed. I’m not long-term material.”
Embarrassment nearly brought her to her knees. It also fired her temper and set her feet firmly back on the ground. She kept forgetting about this man’s gift.
“I wish you’d stop lurking around in my head. And if you’re going to do it, at least get it right. And… and…” She waved her hand, at a loss for a moment. “And don’t take everything you hear so literally. I have a tendency to think stuff, then dismiss it.”
“Ah, you try on your thoughts like trying on clothes.”
“Exactly. Sometimes they fit and sometimes they don’t. One day they might feel right, and the next… Well, you get the picture. So, cut it out, okay?”
“Sure. Ready to go?”
No! Damn it!
He waited while she locked the door, then ushered her to the car with a light hand at her back.
“Molly?”
“What?”
“Could you think a little quieter?”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. He just stood there, holding the car door open, a slight grin on his face. Finally she slid into the leather bucket seat.
