by Gina Wilkins
“It wasn’t for the money. It was for the meanness,” Wade said grimly. “Kevin O’Brien is a prime example of a kid who’s had too much given to him and too few limits set. He set up a burglary ring because he thought it was fun.”
“Fun,” Emily repeated, and he could see the memories of pain and fear reflected in her eyes. “He thought it was fun to terrorize his hometown? His neighbors?”
“He turned eighteen last month. He’s being charged as an adult. We’ll see how much ‘fun’ he finds in the justice system.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll ever find my mother’s bracelet.”
The wistfulness in her voice made him want to promise her anything. But he was more realistic than that. “We’ll try. But I’m afraid I can’t guarantee anything.”
“No, of course not. But thank you for trying.”
Wade motioned toward the door she still held in a white-knuckled grip. “Are you going to invite me in?” he asked, abandoning both patience and etiquette.
He watched her throat move as she swallowed. Why was she suddenly so nervous of him? And should he take that to be a good sign or a bad one? “Yes, of course,” she said after a moment, stepping aside. “Come in. I have some fresh coffee in the pot. Would you like a cup?”
He closed the door behind him, started to accept her offer, then fell silent when he noticed the condition of her living room.
The floor was covered with large cardboard boxes. They were all open, and he could see that many of them were at least partially filled with things that had once decorated her bookshelves and tables. “What have you been doing?”
She smoothed her hands down the sides of her long skirt. “I thought I’d better get started on my packing and sorting.”
His first impulse was to dump the contents of every damn box in the middle of the floor and then personally return every item to the place it belonged. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to speak casually. “What’s the big hurry? The lease on my house isn’t up until the end of the year, another six weeks.”
“Six weeks passes quickly,” she answered with a slight shrug, not quite meeting his eyes. “Especially when I have a whole lifetime worth of stuff to go through. I’m going to have a big yard sale here at the beginning of December, I think. Whatever I decide to keep will be put in storage.”
Wade’s hands fisted in his pockets. “You’re going to sell your things?”
She moistened her lips before she replied. “Well, obviously I won’t need all these things when I have no place to store them. I’ll probably settle into an apartment somewhere eventually, and I won’t have room for a houseful of furniture and knickknacks.”
“So you’re still planning to run away.” He spoke in a flat voice that showed little of the emotion he was trying to hold inside. “You’re just going to take off and ‘find yourself’ somewhere. No commitments to anyone. No ties.”
Her chin lifted in response to the implied criticism. “Yes, that’s right,” she said with a touch of defiance. “For once in my life, I’m going to be responsible for no one but myself. And if that sounds selfish...well, so be it. That’s something else I’ve never had the freedom to be.”
“Bull.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You have had every freedom to be selfish. Everything you’ve done since you were old enough to be out on your own has been by your own choice. You didn’t have to stay and take care of your father. Your mother and brother didn’t. You chose to accept that responsibility. You weren’t forced at gunpoint to join every community-service organization in town, and to be active in them. That was something you did because you wanted to, because you liked the feeling you got from making a difference in your community. You haven’t been a prisoner in this house, Emily, nor in this town.”
“I never said I was a prisoner,” she answered defensively.
“You’ve chosen to be involved because you’re happier being involved. You enjoy doing things for people you care about. And your community means a lot to you. You’re not going to be happy drifting around the country, alone and unattached.”
“And just what makes you such an expert on what I’m like?” she demanded. “On what makes me happy?”
“I know you,” he answered simply—and then risked everything. “I love you.”
He heard her breath catch, saw her eyes widen. And he wondered why his words would cause her to react in sheer panic.
She shook her head and literally took a step back from him. “No, you don’t.”
He followed her, taking two steps forward. “Don’t tell me what I feel.”
Another step backward. “You hardly even know me.”
Two more steps forward. “I know enough. I’m no inexperienced kid, Emily. I know the difference between love and lust or infatuation. I wasn’t in love with my wife. I knew that when I married her. I tried to be, but it didn’t happen. It happened with you.”
She was backed up against a wall. She stood there with her hands in front of her, warding him off. “I don’t want this,” she whispered. “I never wanted it to go this far.”
“If you really meant that, you never would have made love with me.” He lifted a hand to her face, just brushing her flushed cheek with his fingertips. “Do you really think I couldn’t tell what a serious decision that was for you?”
Her flush deepened. “It isn’t something I take casually,” she admitted.
“Neither do I.”
“But,” she added firmly, “I warned you even then that nothing had changed.”
“And I didn’t believe you even then,” he replied gently. “Everything changed for me that night. And I think it did for you, too...if you’ll just admit it.”
She shook her head, her face moving against his hand. “No. I’m still leaving. I...I have to, Wade.”
“Why? Because you’ve said you’re going to? Because you’ve sold your house?”
“Because if I don’t, I’ll never know,” she corrected him quietly.
She’d effectively silenced him with that one, he thought with a touch of resignation. He’d been involved in a relationship—in a marriage—with a woman who’d wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. It had been miserable for both of them.
He didn’t want to risk getting into a situation like that with Emily.
Though it wasn’t immediately apparent at the moment, he’d like to think he’d learned something from the disaster of his marriage. But what kind of masochist was he, to keep getting involved with women who didn’t want to stay with him?
He sighed and slipped his hands on either side of her face. Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, “I won’t try to hold you here. I couldn’t if I wanted to, obviously. But if you change your mind, I’ll be here. And if you leave, then find that you aren’t as happy as you thought you would be, I’ll still be here.”
“I’m not asking you to wait for me. That’s...hardly fair to you.” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“I love you, Emily. That feeling won’t just go away when you do.”
He heard her breath catch again, in what might have been a swallowed sob. “Please, don’t keep saying that.”
“Not saying it won’t make it any less true.”
“Wade, I...”
He kissed her into silence, smothering her apologies and excuses beneath his lips. And her response gave him reason to hope that he wasn’t wrong about her feelings for him, though he had no idea why it scared her so much to admit them.
He crowded her back against the wall, his body pressed into hers so that she would have no doubt that he wanted her. He felt her shudder of response, and knew that the passion that had flared between them only two nights ago had not cooled.
He was unable to resist sliding his right hand between them, cupping her left breast through the impossibly soft blue sweater. He rubbed his thumb over the nipple that hardened beneath his touch, just as it had hardened in his mouth the night they’d made love. And the way
she shivered let him know that she remembered every moment of the magic they’d shared.
“Damn, but I want you again,” he muttered into her mouth.
“I want you, too,” she whispered, seemingly helpless to deny it. Her fingers were tangled in his shirt, clinging, holding him against her. “Oh, Wade.”
He crushed her lips beneath his and thrust his tongue deeply into her mouth, needing one last taste of her before he left. She opened to him, welcoming him with a touching eagerness that was almost his undoing.
She was limp in his arms by the time he drew away. Very carefully, he set her away from him, making sure she had one hand on the wall behind her for support before he released her.
“I’d better go,” he said gruffly. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”
Like beg you to love me.
She blinked, startled, looking as though she had abruptly crashed to earth. “You’re...leaving?”
“I can’t love you again and then just watch you walk away. I have a heart, Emily...and it will only take so much.”
She bit her lip, her gaze sliding away from his. Wade hesitated a moment, aching with need for her, calling himself a fool, wishing she would say something to change his mind. And then calling himself a fool again.
He turned on his heel and headed for the door before he could change his own mind.
Emily followed him silently to the door. He couldn’t resist kissing her one more time before he stepped outside. “Good night. Call if you need me, okay?”
She nodded, and started to close the door behind him. And then something made her pause. “Wade?”
He turned on the porch to face her, hope flaring. “Yes?”
“Some...” She stopped, cleared her throat and began again. “Some people are saying you’re interested in me because of Clay. Because you think I’d be a good stepmother to him.”
Hope turned to a hot surge of anger. Emily must have seen the flare in his eyes, because she immediately looked twice as nervous as she had before. “I...er...just thought you’d want to know what people were saying,” she said hastily.
“Not particularly,” he answered a bit too evenly, trying to control his temper—which wasn’t usually so difficult for him. “I think I’ve told you before that idle gossip doesn’t concern me. Had you been the one to make that accusation, I might have gotten mad...or hurt. But since you and I both know that I’m quite capable of taking care of my son without anyone’s help—yours included—then there’s no reason for you to question my motives, is there?”
“I, um, just thought you’d want to know,” she repeated. “Good night, Wade.”
She closed the door abruptly in his face.
Wade stood there a moment, staring at that door with angry eyes, half-seriously considering kicking it in and carrying her to the bedroom, where he would make love to her until she had no choice but to tell him she loved him, too. Or better yet, maybe he’d track down everyone who’d ever hurt her, from her long-missing mother to her runaway brother to all the gossips in Honoria, and punch every damned one of them for leaving her so wary and suspicious.
But, instead, he punched his fist into his own hand, then turned, walked to his Jeep and drove away without looking back. Emily had to make her own decisions, he thought. He only hoped the choices she made would finally make her happy.
12
DURING THE NEXT TEN days, Emily didn’t hear from Wade at all. Apparently, he had decided to give her what she’d asked for. Her freedom.
She could leave Honoria any time she wanted to now. Whatever details remained to be settled concerning the sale of the house could easily be handled by long distance or mail. She’d sorted and sifted through all her possessions, deciding what to sell, what to store, and what to have hauled away. She could have everything finished in less than a month, be on her way by Christmas.
Christmas. She couldn’t even imagine spending the holiday without trimming a big tree in her living-room window. Or without arranging her cherished antique Santa Claus figures on the mantel above the fireplace.
But she couldn‘t—wouldn’t—think that way, she told herself firmly. She would think, instead, of all the exotic places she could spend Christmas if she wanted to. The islands, maybe. Christmas in the tropics.
She picked up a creased and tattered travel brochure and studied the photograph on the cover. A couple walking hand in hand on a sandy beach, the sun setting colorfully behind them as waves lapped at their bare toes. She pictured herself walking on that same beach...alone. And suddenly, unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears.
Bad idea. She set the brochure down hastily, blaming her sudden emotionalism on exhaustion.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep during the past week and a half. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d hear Wade’s voice saying, “I love you.” And then the panic would set in, making her heart race, her stomach clench, her skin go clammy.
She had tried to analyze her fears, beginning with her feelings for Wade. Was it really love she felt for him? Or merely physical attraction? Or nothing more than affection, perhaps.
Memories flashed swiftly through her mind. Vivid pictures of Wade with his son. Wade smiling at her. Kissing her. Kneeling frantically beside her as she’d lain on the floor. Making love to her until she’d wept with joy.
Okay, she was in love with him. She couldn’t deny it to herself, even if she never found the courage to admit it to Wade.
She told herself that part of the problem was his son. She wasn’t ready to become responsible for someone else’s child. The stress, the worries, the inevitable conflicts... why would she deliberately take those on?
But she loved that little boy. So much that her heart swelled painfully every time she pictured him running across the bank lobby, his eyes alight with the pleasure of seeing her, his arms open for a hug, his little voice crying out, “Miss Emily! Miss Emily!”
The thought of never seeing that child again hurt almost as badly as the thought of leaving Wade forever.
She remembered her co-workers’ hints that Wade was courting her only because he needed a mother for his son, and she wondered if that was what bothered her so badly. But she couldn’t believe that, either. She’d seen the flare of fury in Wade’s eyes when she’d mentioned what the others had said. The cool pride on his face when he’d reminded her that he could take care of his son very well on his own.
Of course he could. He’d been doing so for years. He didn’t need Emily to become a mother for Clay. But for some reason, he’d convinced himself that he was in love with her.
And, as always when she thought of that declaration of love, she panicked. Spurred into frantic action, she continued the packing she’d been doing for the past two weeks, going room to room, closet to closet, drawer to drawer, refusing to dwell on memories or give in to sentiment.
She spent more hours poring over her travel brochures, trying to imagine herself in those exotic places. Trying not to imagine Wade there with her. She’d told herself she wanted to spend time alone...so why did the future suddenly seem so lonely? And what took more courage on her part—going off alone, or staying in the hometown where she’d spent so many years?
WHEN HER DOORBELL RANG on the Saturday afternoon before Thanksgiving, she answered with some trepidation, wondering if Wade had returned to try to change her mind again. And whether this time he would succeed, despite her undefinable fears.
It was with more disappointment than relief that she found Martha Godwin standing on the other side of her front door.
“Oh, hello, Martha. What can I do for you?” she asked, moving aside to invite the older woman in. And please don’t ask me to keep your dog again. Not now.
Martha looked curiously around at the half-filled boxes on the living-room floor. “Hello, Emily. My, you’ve been busy.”
“Yes. I’m getting ready to move out at the end of next month. There’s a lot of work involved in packing up forty-odd years of household goods.”
> “I understand you’re having a yard sale in a couple of weeks.”
Emily nodded. “Obviously, I can’t keep everything. I thought other people might like to have some of the things I no longer need.”
“I see.”
Still uncertain why Martha had called, Emily motioned toward the sofa. “Please sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you, dear. I just wanted to see how you’ve been,” Martha replied, making herself comfortable.
Emily didn’t believe it for a moment. Martha always had some ulterior motive. Gossip to spread or gather. A favor to ask. A complaint to make. Something. And Emily suspected she wasn’t going to like this one.
“I’ve been well, Martha. Just busy.”
“No lingering effects from that horrible attack? How is your poor head?”
“Fine. No lingering effects.”
“I knew all along that Kevin O’Brien had something to do with those break-ins,” Martha announced smugly. “If everyone had listened to me, the case would have been solved weeks earlier. Joe O’Brien is paying now for spoiling that boy rotten, and that’s exactly what I told him when I saw him at the pharmacy last week.”
“Oh, Martha, you didn’t.”
“I most certainly did. I told Joe years ago that he’d better take that boy in hand before he turned into a hardened criminal. But would he listen to me? No. I simply reminded him last week that he wouldn’t have spoiled the child if he hadn’t spared the rod.”
Emily bit her tongue. She’d felt rather sorry for the O’Brien family, who’d been genuinely shocked by their son’s behavior. Yes, they had spoiled Kevin, and they should have stepped in long ago to curb his growing wildness, but blaming them now served no purpose. It had been cruel of Martha to throw her uninvited advice in Joe’s face at this point.
“And it’s obvious that Kevin hasn’t learned anything from the trouble he’s in,” Martha went on, oblivious of Emily’s disapproval. “He’s still being very defiant, and he still refuses to admit that he had anything to do with the vicious attack on you.”
