Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  She’d barely picked up her fork when Karen said, “You haven’t had any more trouble with reporters, have you?” She knew about the incident at Walgreens. “I’m glad you’re not still at the Quality Inn. I’m sure anyone could find you there. But, goodness, that cabin sounds so primitive.”

  Bailey hesitated. This was supposed to be her family. They wouldn’t tell anyone where she was actually staying, would they?

  “Unfortunately, they tracked me down to the cabin, too. It was kind of scary. I mean, it was late at night and they were shining flashlights in the windows.” She shuddered. “Seth—Detective Chandler—thinks these were freelancers because they were so ruthless. You know, no story, no payday.”

  Eve arched her eyebrows. “I suppose he came and scared them away for you.”

  Bailey met her eyes. “Yes, actually he did.”

  “So now what?” Eve asked, her voice holding just enough of an edge to have Karen looking surprised before she transferred her gaze to Bailey.

  “You do know we’d love to have you here, don’t you?”

  Bailey forced a smile, aware Eve was watching. “I assumed. I just...don’t feel ready. I’m used to having my own space.”

  Wow, how could she tell them that she was staying at Seth’s house? Something like panic bubbled in her chest. She shouldn’t stay with him. She could just imagine what people would think. Starting with Eve.

  “We understand, of course,” Karen assured her. “It’s such a miracle having you here, I can hardly take my eyes off you, and that must make you uncomfortable. I’m afraid I can’t help it. It’s going to take time.”

  “I feel...really shaken up,” Bailey confessed. In lieu of that other confession: I am sleeping across the hall from Seth Chandler, the police detective who found me. The one who’d dated Eve until...when? Maybe a question she should have asked.

  “Of course you do.” Karen patted her arm. “I pray you can accept that we love you and that we are your family.”

  “I do believe you are.” Somehow she managed another smile, even as she battled the claustrophobic need to make hasty excuses and leave.

  Eve’s stare remained cool and direct. “So, where are you staying?”

  Being caught out in a lie would be worse than telling the truth. “For the moment, at Seth’s.” She made it utterly casual. “He has a guest room. He thinks he knows of someone else who is away and might let me use their place, though.” That was what might happen, she told herself, and therefore not exactly a lie.

  Eve pushed back from the table and carried her plate with half-finished pie into the kitchen.

  Seemingly not noticing, Karen looked at Bailey with distress. “Oh, but when you have family—” She made a moue. “No, I won’t say any more, I promise.”

  Eve reappeared. As she picked up her phone, Bailey said hastily, “I won’t be able to stay in town much longer anyway. I don’t want to lose my job, and I’ll need to get ready to start classes.”

  Ignoring her, Eve announced, “I need to be off.”

  Karen blinked at her. “Oh, but...”

  “Thanks for lunch, Mom.” She breezed out, leaving silence in her wake.

  “I didn’t realize she had to be back so early,” Karen said.

  That would be because she didn’t, but Karen must be wearing blindfolds these days. Bailey felt a cramp of empathy. Once again, she was struck by the realization that she understood Eve a whole lot better than she did Karen or Kirk—or even Seth. Seesaw, she reminded herself. Right now, Eve probably felt as if she’d slammed down hard enough to bruise her tailbone. And her, she felt light-headed and queasy from the height.

  Never happy, she mocked herself.

  Since she had no place she needed to be and she could make one other person happy, she asked to see the quilt photos.

  Karen lit up. After she’d hustled away to fetch the albums, Bailey picked up her gift from where she’d carefully set it by her feet and unzipped just far enough to let her see a few inches of the tight stitches spiraling inward over a finger of sea-green batik fabric. Her chest felt tight, and she hurriedly zipped it up again before Karen could come back and see her sneaking a peek. Even though that would have made her happy, too.

  * * *

  SETH DIDN’T LET himself in the house until almost seven. The first thing that hit him was a great smell that made his stomach rumble. Oh, damn—she’d promised to make dinner, hadn’t she? And he’d been a no-show.

  This was a big reason even his slightly more serious relationships never took off.

  “Hey.” Bailey appeared from the kitchen, wearing jeans that showed an amazing length of leg despite the really sacky Seahawks sweatshirt that disguised her breasts and hips and fell to midthigh. Mine, he realized.

  She glanced down at herself. “I hope you don’t mind. I was cold.”

  Seth shook his head. “Of course not.”

  “When I left, it was hot there and hot here. I didn’t expect the temperature to plummet.”

  “That’s the great Northwest for you.” After a roasting hot couple of weeks, the sky had clouded over and even showed signs of threatening rain. Happened quick in these parts. “I should have called. It smells like you made dinner. I’m sorry.”

  “No, that’s okay. I didn’t know when you’d get home, so I made pizzas. I already ate. I loaded them both with veggies, but if you want me to take some off...”

  “Whatever I smell will be perfect.”

  “You haven’t eaten?”

  His stomach grumbled again. “Fast food for lunch. An aeon ago.”

  Bailey smiled. “I’ll go put it in the oven.”

  “That’ll give me time to take a quick shower.”

  He hadn’t last night, intending his usual morning shower. Now he felt foul, more in a figurative sense than literal. Unpleasant people rubbed off on you.

  The hot water felt great. He didn’t stay under it as long as he would have if he’d been alone in the house, though. The anticipation he’d felt since the minute he decided to head home was new.

  Bailey was perched on one of the bar stools with that morning’s newspaper open in front of her when he returned to the kitchen. She looked up. “Can I get you a beer?”

  “No, I’d take two swallows and topple over.” Unless the buzz he felt because she was here kept him awake. He passed her and reached up into a cupboard for a glass. She watched as he poured himself milk.

  “Milk and pizza.” She laughed. “Not your usual combo.”

  Seth tipped the glass back and guzzled before replying. “I’ve had so much coffee the last twenty-four hours, I think it burned a layer off my stomach lining. I’m trying to restore it.”

  Her smile faded. “Was it awful?”

  “Awful?” The murder. “I’ve seen worse. It was unusual for this town, though. We mostly have bar fights that get out of hand, domestics.” He shrugged. “This one is a genuine mystery.”

  “Really?” She looked fascinated, those big blue eyes fastened on him.

  He told her a little. Some would be in the morning paper for anyone to read. Some was still speculative. Apparently Geoff Moore had trouble keeping his pants zipped. His wife and he had fought about it often, but so far the benefits of being married to a successful attorney had outweighed her hurt and fury. His latest affair had been more serious, though, and it sounded as if the current girlfriend had been pressuring him to divorce his wife and marry her. Wife might have been running scared—as a widow, she’d end up a hell of a lot better off financially than she would have with a divorce settlement. Seth had got the idea Geoff had been backpedaling with the girlfriend, though, and had no intention of divorcing his wife. Girlfriend’s grief looked as false as the wife’s. She had a low-rent brother with a sheet as long as Seth’s arm, too. In fact, Geoff had met the girlfriend when he was defending her brother.

  Gratitude wasn’t what it used to be, he thought sardonically.

  He evaded some of Bailey’s questions, but she didn’t seem t
o mind. Talking lowered his stress level, until he thought tonight he could sleep. Sex first would have been good, but even if it were a possibility, he wanted to be more on his game before he tried anything with Bailey.

  The oven timer went off and she hopped down despite his protests to take the pizza out of the oven and slice it for him, even pouring him a second glass of milk.

  “Karen sent a couple of pieces of key lime pie, too, if you have room.”

  “I’ll make room. Hey.” He decided to use a knife and fork, given that Bailey would be watching him eat. “How’d lunch go?”

  “Mostly good.” A cloud seemed to pass over her mood. “Things are really tense with Eve.”

  No comment. He kept eating.

  “You know about Karen’s quilting business?” She shook her head before he could answer. “You’re the one who told me about it. I didn’t know she creates her own quilts, too. They’re amazing. Eve said they’re art, which they are. The thing is, she gave one to me.” All her defenses crashed; she looked at him with bewilderment, pleasure and something like shame mixed on her face. “Can I show you?”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  He didn’t know enough about quilts to have any expectations. They were bedcoverings. He didn’t get the female fascination with them.

  Bailey returned, a fat plastic bag with a zip top in her arms, the kind new bedding came in. Keeping well away from his pizza, she unzipped it and drew out something that had him blinking in surprise. The pieces of fabric didn’t exactly form a picture, but the colors flowed together and he had the impression of a pond with some water lilies and stitching that formed eddies. Maybe a few flat stones on the edges, possibly a couple of large leaves overhanging the water.

  “It’s like an impressionist painting,” he said, after staring thunderstruck for a minute. “I had no idea she did anything like this.”

  “No. I’ve been thinking of her as so...” Bailey seemed to struggle for the right description. “Small-town nice woman. Middle America. You know?”

  He nodded.

  “And then I find out she has this remarkable creative ability, and I’m thinking, did I know this? I mean, when I was little?”

  “Would a six-year-old know something like that about her mother?” he asked. “Except that she might have been fun to do art projects with.”

  “Probably not.” She stroked the quilt as if she found the surface a sensual pleasure. Seth imagined her touching him the same way. But then she looked at him and that bewilderment was still visible. “Do you know what she probably charges for a quilt like this?”

  He shook his head.

  “Oh, it would have to be, I don’t know, a couple of thousand dollars or more. Maybe a lot more. And she gave it to me.”

  “Because you’re her daughter,” he said gently.

  “Eve said—” Bailey swallowed. “She said it’s my first heirloom.”

  He smiled. “She’s right.”

  “This is so new to me. I didn’t even know how to thank her. What I said was probably totally inadequate.”

  “I doubt that. Karen seems to be pretty good at reading people.” She’d known how to get to him, he thought ruefully, that was for sure.

  “It’s funny. I’ve always loved fabric. I had a foster mother who taught me to sew. I mean, just the rudiments, and then I got moved. But, not that long ago, I was thinking I might get a sewing machine. Maybe it’s in the genes or something.” She made a face. “Scary thought. Except... I might like to try to learn to make quilts.”

  He pushed his plate away. “I don’t think it’s genes, Bailey. You must remember your mom sewing. Maybe making clothes for you. It’s there in your head. Her turning a piece of cloth into a pretty dress you loved. You hear a sewing machine whirring or see a fabric store, good connotation.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, unmoving, unblinking. Then she drew a breath. “Yes. I do think... I can feel myself twirling, and the skirt of my dress forming a bell. It was purple.” She plucked, apparently unconsciously, at the quilt she held in her arms. “Velour, I think, or velvet.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “It was real, wasn’t it?”

  He wished he knew what she needed. “Yeah.” His voice came out gruff. “I think it was.”

  “Seth?” This was barely a whisper, but her tone was...different.

  Somehow, he’d come to be standing. Because he’d wanted to go to her, hold her, he realized. He managed to say, “Yeah?”

  “If you don’t want to, you can just say no. But, um, would you kiss me?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SEEING THE EXPRESSION on his face, Bailey would have given anything not to have said that. Was he appalled? Embarrassed?

  “Forget it,” she said quickly. “Dumb impulse.”

  “No.” He came around the breakfast bar, stopping when he was no more than a foot from her. He looked kind. Just what a woman wanted to see when she’d come on to him.

  She retreated a step. “Really. I can tell that’s the last thing you want to do.”

  “Bailey, I want to kiss you more than I want to sleep or eat or maybe even breathe.” His voice was deep, huskier than usual, and maybe kind wasn’t the right word to describe the way he was looking at her after all.

  This time her “Really?” came out as a squeak.

  “Yeah.” He lifted a hand and grazed his knuckles over her cheek. “I’m a little conflicted, that’s all. You’re pretty vulnerable right now. And the idea of scaring you or repelling you... Not so good.”

  “You don’t want me to experiment on you,” she guessed. Which he was smart enough to know was exactly what she’d been asking.

  “No, I’m okay with that.” His eyes were darker than usual, a brown-black. “I don’t want to fail, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” She squeezed the quilt, then realized it was in the way. Really smooth. There’d been a time she knew how to seduce a guy. Because it had been all surface. She hadn’t felt anything. This was deeper. She wanted not to fail, too. She hoped he couldn’t guess how much she wanted that. “Um...” She cast a glance sideways. Kitchen counter. With a couple of steps, she was able to set down the quilt. When she turned, it was to see that he waited where he’d been. A really confident guy she suspected could even be domineering; he was letting her do this her way. He was hesitant because he wanted this, too.

  That gave her the assurance to go to him and to flatten her hands on his chest, atop the sweatshirt he’d donned after his shower. She liked him in his detective uniform of slacks or chinos and a white shirt with badge and weapon, but she liked him in jeans even better. He was more approachable.

  She loved the hard muscles she felt beneath her hands, the beat of his heart, and wished—well, that she knew what he looked like without the sweatshirt.

  Her own pulse had speeded enough to make her feel light-headed. Heights. For a long moment, he did nothing but look down at her, although his eyes had heated. Finally he lifted his hands slowly, as if he was making a conscious effort not to alarm her, and he framed her face with them. They were big, and strong, and warm. She tilted her head to deepen and savor the contact. His expression changed, hardened in a way, but she didn’t feel so much as a flicker of fear.

  Finally he bent his head, and at the same moment she rose on tiptoe. Somehow he still kept the contact soft. He rubbed his lips over hers, then nibbled at them. Bailey’s eyes closed. In a state of suspended wonder, she quit breathing. The damp tip of his tongue testing the seam of her lips was like an electrical conductor, sending a bolt of heat to her core. She opened her mouth and let him in.

  Suddenly the kiss was deep and serious. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. His other hand had come to grip one of her hips. He was trying to lift her even as he explored her mouth. He was still holding back, but not by much. When she sucked on his tongue, his body jolted. He lifted his head to stare down at her with molten eyes, before he kissed her jaw, nipped her earlobe, sucked on the sensitive skin o
n her neck. When he came back to her mouth, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck and plastered her body to his. She was hot, melting, hungry for the very thing she would have sworn she absolutely did not want.

  Starting with his hand on her breast. Her hands on bare skin.

  But that was the moment when a groan vibrated in his chest, and he let go of her hip to rest his hand at her waist, almost as if he was restraining her. “Bailey.”

  Lost in shocked pleasure at her own response, she took a minute to understand that he was trying to say something. His touch had become gentle instead of urgent. He was backing off.

  She whimpered in protest. His muscles tightened, but he said her name again. “Bailey. Honey.”

  She let her head fall back and really looked at him. His face still had the predatory cast of a man who wanted sex, but determination was there, too. Determination, she realized, not to take her to bed.

  “Wow,” she mumbled.

  Seth gave a strained laugh. “Yeah, I’d have said something stronger.”

  “Like?”

  “Holy shit.”

  That made her laugh a little, which enabled her to ease back and go for light. “The experiment was a success.”

  “Was it?” His very dark eyes searched hers. “No panic?”

  “I...didn’t really expect that.”

  “Then what were you testing for?”

  “More like indifference. I’ve never actually been swept away.” She sounded as amazed as she felt.

  For an instant, his fingers bit into her arms before he backed away and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “You know I don’t want to call a halt.”

  Bailey bobbed her head.

  “But you need to be sure. This can’t be about thinking you owe me.”

  Outrage cut into the sensual haze. “Owe you?”

  “And I don’t mind kissing as an experiment. Making love, I guess I’d like to know it’s a little more.”

  “Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “You can’t tell me you don’t take it where you can get it.”