Debra Webb - In His Touch Box Set (Here To Stay, Up Close, Tempting Trace, Basic Instincts)

by Debra Webb

Fifteen minutes later when Abby entered her apartment, she was met with the same sense of loneliness and emptiness that had overwhelmed her at the office. The suitcases she’d dropped off prior to going to the office still sat next to the door where she’d left them.

  There was no one there to carry them to her room... no one to laugh with... no one to make love with. Abby stripped off her clothes and climbed into the shower. She braced herself against the cool tile walls and tried to quiet the voices inside her head. She forced herself to go through the ritual of cleansing her body. She had to wash away the last remaining essence of Matthew.

  She could still smell him. The lingering scent of soot, the medicinal smell of the hospital gown, and beneath it all the scent of the man. The only man Abby would ever love.

  She wrapped a towel around her wet hair and wearily dried her skin. Afterwards she slipped on her comfortable old tattered robe and made herself a cup of hot tea.

  Curled in her favorite chair, she began the slow process of sorting out the mess her life had become.

  ~*~

  Jenny glowered at her brother as he awkwardly tried to install the spinster Watley’s new front doorknob and lock set. “You are the most pig-headed man I know—and that’s saying a lot,” Jenny complained.

  “Go home, Jenny,” Matthew said patiently as the lock set fell apart again. How would he ever do this? Between the annoying cast and his meddling sister, he’d never be able to maintain his concentration. “Can’t you see I have work to do?”

  “I can’t believe you’re letting her go like this!”

  Matthew finally gave up. He stood, towering Jenny, and gave her his fiercest glare. “That’s it, Jenny Lynn. I won’t listen to another word about Abby.” He flinched. Saying her name was like a knife in his chest. “It’s been two weeks. She hasn’t called. She hasn’t written. She’s not coming back!” He shouted the last words, determined to make them penetrate his sister’s thick skull.

  Jenny huffed indignantly. “Have you called her? Why would you expect her to contact you first?” she demanded, oblivious to his wishes to change the subject.

  Anger roared through him then, testing the limits of his temper. “She doesn’t want to hear from me,” he said as close to calm as he could manage.

  “And how can you be so sure of that? I told you she’s in love with you, you jackass! It was written all over her face. How could you not know it?”

  He lost it then. “Because I told her that I loved her. I asked her to stay.” He blinked back the powerful emotions he’d sworn he wouldn’t feel again. “And she left anyway.” His final words were quiet. “Without so much as a good-bye.”

  Jenny stared blankly at him for a second or two and Matthew had to look away. He didn’t want to see the pity fill her eyes. He just wanted to forget.

  “I’m sorry, Matthew. I didn’t know.”

  “How could you?” He knelt next to the door and began gathering up the scattered parts of the lock.

  “She had to be confused. You asked her to change her whole life!” Jenny crouched in front of him, automatically helping—the way she always did. “That has to be the answer. I know what I saw, Matthew. She loves—”

  “Don’t,” Matthew cut her off. “I don’t want to discuss it anymore.”

  Jenny dropped her gaze. “I should go. The twins are probably driving Dad up the wall.” She stood reluctantly. Matthew could read the hesitation in her face. She wanted to make it all better for him, but that wasn’t possible.

  Matthew stood and accepted the parts she’d picked up. “Thanks anyway,” he managed to say. He knew Jenny meant well.

  When Jenny had gone, Matthew dropped his head and closed his eyes. He’d thought the same thing Jenny did at first. He’d believed with all his heart that Abby loved him too. He’d felt it when they made love. The memory of their lovemaking ached through him with a fierceness that took his breath.

  “Can I get you a glass of iced tea, Matthew?”

  He jerked from his painful contemplation and manufactured a smile for Miss Watley. “Sorry about the racket. Jenny and I don’t always agree.”

  She snorted. “Have you ever?”

  Matthew chuckled; the sound felt foreign to him. He hadn’t laughed in over two weeks. “I guess not.”

  Spinster Watley, as she’d always been known to Matthew, adopted a serious expression. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but when people discuss their personal lives in my house, I figure I got a right to say my piece.”

  Just what he needed. “You do have a point there, Miss Watley.”

  “You know, I was in love once,” she told him. Her eyes taking on a faraway look. “It was a very long time ago.” She smiled, magnifying the lines in her aged face. “He was a city boy from California and my daddy didn’t think it was a proper match. So...” Her voice trailed off. “After he left, it took me a long time to get over him.” She shrugged half-heartedly. “I suppose I never really did. Anyway, I considered running away to find him, but we were raised to obey our parents back then. And I did.”

  Miss Watley didn’t speak again for a long time, but Matthew waited patiently. The memories glittered in her watery eyes and he couldn’t bring himself to break the spell.

  “Fifty years later, when he’d passed away his eldest son—he’d married and had himself two fine sons—mailed me a package. Inside that package was a letter addressed to me. It was a long time before I worked up the courage to open it, but one day I did. The envelope was yellowed by time and I knew he’d written it many years prior, so I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know what it said.” She sighed. “But my curiosity got the better of me and I read it. In the very beginning of the letter, he said that he knew he’d never mail it but that he just had to put his feelings down.”

  Miss Watley settled her gaze on Matthew then. “It seems he was in love with me all along too. But neither of us had the good sense to do anything about it.” She paused. “If that city gal is the one for you, Matthew, you’d better move heaven and earth to be with her. Because the one thing I’ve learned in my eighty years on this earth is that real love—true love—usually happens once. You’ve been lucky enough to find it twice. No matter how unfortunate your first love’s untimely death, or how uncertain this new love looks, grab it with both hands. Don’t let stubborn pride stand in your way, boy.” She lifted one thin eyebrow. “Or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  Matthew smiled. And he knew that Miss Watley was right. He loved Abby and if there was any chance she loved him too, he wanted a life with her.

  No matter where that life was.

  ~*~

  “Abby, I don’t understand.” Jim shook his head, staring at the letter of resignation in his hand. “You were just promoted to senior writer. For Pete’s sake, why are you leaving?”

  Abby gave Jim a hug. She would truly miss him. He was a good boss and a good friend. When she pulled back, she gave him a bright smile. “There’s nothing I can do about it, it’s biological,” she explained cryptically.

  Leaving Jim to figure it out for himself, Abby made the long walk back to her office. She’d said good-bye to everyone—a special one to Gloria. All she needed to do now was pack up the personal items from her desk.

  As she loaded the paper box she’d gotten from the copy room, she reviewed her plans once more. Between her savings and a hefty withdrawal from her IRA—she cringed inwardly—she would have sufficient financial backing to bring the Salem Sentinel into the current decade.

  If Jenny still wanted a partner, Abby wanted the job. She remembered seeing a small house for sale not too far from the paper and wondered if she could afford to buy it. Though she wasn’t sure she’d have enough left over for a down payment.

  It still amazed her how clearly the revelation had come to her. How could she have ever believed that anything was more important than the man she loved or the future they could share together? Marriage was about commitment and compromise. And she would have to do her share of comp
romising. Just because a woman was somebody’s wife or mother didn’t mean she couldn’t be a whole person, couldn’t have a fulfilling career. Jenny and Gloria were prime examples that you could have it all.

  And Abby knew now for certain, that she, too, wanted it all.

  Her errant thoughts strayed to Matthew. She’d hurt him by leaving the way she did. She knew that. It would take time to rebuild what they’d shared, but she was willing to take the time and chance his rejection. She could wait for him to forgive her. She loved him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

  Abby closed her eyes and confessed, if only to herself, she wanted to have his children.

  A soft tap on the wall of her soon-to-be ex-office pulled her back down to earth. She turned, expecting to see another well-wisher who secretly wanted to get dibs on her space.

  Matthew.

  Her heart flip-flopped as her eyes feasted on the man before her. He still wore the cast, but the bandage on his forehead was gone. In its place was a small thin scar.

  He was here...

  “Matthew,” she finally had the presence of mind to say. Not throwing her arms immediately around him proved torture.

  His lips spread into a mind-blowing smile. “Abby. I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?” He gestured to the box on her desk.

  She shook her head. “No.” Now, faced with the man himself, Abby doubted her decision. Had she done the right thing? Would he still want her?

  Of course not, you idiot, you walked out on him.

  She frowned then. What was he doing here then?

  “Why are you here, Matthew?” She shook her head. “Forget I asked that. First, I owe you an apology. I left you in that hospital without even saying good-bye and that was unforgivable.” She twiddled with the items she’d tossed into the box. “I couldn’t face you knowing that... that things could never work out.” She sighed. “At least I didn’t think they could.”

  Abby lifted her gaze once more. She might as well get this part over with. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I hope that someday you’ll be able to forgive me. I was confused and frightened. When you said you loved me—” She shrugged helplessly. “Anyway, what I did was wrong.” She managed a weak smile. “So, what brings you to the Big Apple?” Fear would not allow her to hope his visit had anything to do with her. The story maybe, but not her.

  His face gave nothing of his thoughts away. He shoved his free hand into his jeans and leaned against the door frame as if he felt right at home standing in her office. In New York City, for heaven’s sake. But he said nothing. Unable to bear the tension a moment longer, she started to apologize again but then he stopped her with a look.

  “I have to say this now or I might never work up the nerve again.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Abby. And if there’s any chance that you love me too, then we have to work something out.” He glanced around her cubicle before meeting her eyes. “That’s all I have to say.”

  The surge of relief, of love, of need that flooded Abby rendered her speechless for a second that lengthened into five. Finally, she found her tongue. “So what’s your plan?” Her heart was in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her whole future depended on the next few seconds and this man.

  Matthew Stone.

  He sucked in a breath that drew her attention to that awesome chest. She wanted so much to touch him. But she couldn’t; she had to hear him out first. And when he spoke, his voice heated her insides and made her think of long winter nights spent cuddled up in front of a roaring fire. Desire coursed through her and Abby had to force herself to pay attention to his words.

  “Well.” He straightened, and began a speech that sounded like he’d rehearsed it. “The way I see it, people in New York surely need home repairs the same as anywhere else.”

  Did that mean he was willing to give up everything for her? His home, his family, his lifestyle? Everything! Then Abby smiled. She had just done that very thing for him.

  “Well, I’m afraid you’re too late.”

  Matthew’s smile faded.

  “I don’t work here anymore and I’m planning to lease my apartment.” Abby shrugged, tossing another item into her box. “So technically, I don’t even live here anymore.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked softly. The uncertainty in his eyes tugged at Abby’s heart.

  She had to tell him.

  “Actually, I planned to move to Salem and see if Jenny still needed a partner at the Sentinel.” She dropped another item from her desk into her box.

  “When did you decide that?” he asked, obviously more than a little shocked.

  Abby chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “Sometime between midnight and four this morning.”

  “And us, what did you decide about us?”

  “That depends on you.” Abby shoved a handful of hair behind her ear and skirted her desk to stand directly in front of him. “If you want a church wedding, that’ll take some time. But if a justice of the peace will do, then I suppose we can tie the knot right away.”

  Another of those breath-stealing smiles spread across his handsome face. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Absolutely.” Abby slid her arms around his neck, loving the sweet way he looked at her. “You made me fall in love with you, Matthew. As determined as I was not to, I fell in love with you and that Podunk little town of yours. The least you can do is marry me.”

  The hesitancy was back in his eyes. “I know your career is important to you and I respect that. But you have to understand that I want kids.”

  Abby grinned mischievously. “I think I’m finally ready.”

  “Well, in that case,”—he lowered his head, his lips almost touching hers—“the answer is yes.”

  Matthew kissed her, the fingers of his right hand threading into her hair, the cast on his left arm pressing her body more firmly into his.

  Abby drew back a fraction of an inch. “Take me home,” she whispered against his lips.

  “There’s a flight in five hours,” he said between kisses. “I’m new in town, do you have any suggestions on how we can pass the time?”

  “Oh, yes,” Abby breathed. “I know exactly what to do. How about we get started on baby number one?”

  Matthew nuzzled her neck. “How long does it take to get to your place?” His hand caressed her breast and dropped to her waist. “I wouldn’t want our first child conceived in a cab.”

  Abby pulled out of his intimate embrace, grabbed her purse and then took his hands in hers and gently tugged him toward the bank of elevators. “Fifteen minutes.”

  One of those killer smiles tilted his lips. “Good. We can warm up on the way.”

  TEMPTING TRACE

  Debra Webb

  Chapter One

  Fallen stars...

  Claire Carson wondered what it would be like to be one, and gave silent thanks that her own career in television seemed so secure. She stopped pacing long enough to look out at the panoramic view from her office window, noting downtown Nashville’s rush hour traffic moving along at its usual snail’s pace ten stories below.

  She had dreamed all her adult life of hosting her own talk show, and she’d finally made it to WCMB. Claire still felt a flush of personal pride every time she thought of how far she’d come—and how fast. But she’d never anticipated having a guilty conscience at this stage in her career.

  Reminding herself that success had its price didn’t seem to assuage the growing doubts that nagged at her.

  Rubbing her throbbing temples with her fingertips, Claire paced across the room once more. Why should she be faulted or feel guilty that Trace Walker found her presentation of his scandalous past less than flattering?

  “It just isn’t fair,” she muttered. She didn’t have to feel badly for doing her job to the best of her ability. Was it her fault that fate had dealt Trace Walker, former country music superstar, such a lousy hand?

  No, it certainly was not.

  Claire merely presente
d the facts of his story—as she had a number of others—in a whatever-happened-to series on fallen stars. The tremendous response to the segments had propelled her weekly talk show, Nashville’s Heart Beat, to number one in the ratings for the last four weeks in a row. Claire hadn’t intended harm to anyone, much less Trace Walker. However, in his case, the old saying that the truth hurts was unfortunately true.

  She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. It was Friday night and she had a party to go to. She had no intention of being late for her own show’s celebration just because today’s episode didn’t sit well with some washed-up county music star.

  Her determined exit came to an abrupt halt as a tall man stopped at the door to her office. Not just any man either, Claire realized with an abrupt sense of dread.

  There, in the doorway—blocking her exit—stood Trace Walker. The man’s timing couldn’t have been worse, as could be said for her luck at the moment.

  During the strained hesitation before either of them spoke, Claire noted several things about her unwanted guest. More than a decade had gone by yet the passage of time had only served to turn boyish good looks into heart-stopping handsomeness. Trace wore his raven black hair shorter than he had way back when, but there was no mistaking those startling blue eyes for which he had been so famous.

  Claire didn’t like what she saw in his scathing gaze at the moment, but like it or not, there was no way of escaping the imminent confrontation. His intimidating frame stood between her and the only avenue of flight. Trace Walker would have his say and she could do absolutely nothing about it except listen.

  “Claire Carson.”

  It wasn’t a question. She squared her shoulders, swallowed back the anxiety tightening her throat and looked him straight in the eye, much the way she did the television camera when she received her on-air cue.

  “Yes, I’m Claire Carson. What can I do for you?” She stuck out her hand and smiled automatically, a firmly entrenched surface convention of the business.

  “You can start by apologizing for the segment you did this morning,” he said stiffly, determinedly. He neither smiled, nor shook her outstretched hand.