Finding You

by Maureen Child

  “Bad night?” he asked.

  “Interesting night,” she amended. “But at least I know my heart’s strong.” And as that organ slipped back into a more normal beat again, she whistled for Abbey and turned to walk up the incline toward Jackson.

  Though he stood in deep shadow, Carla had no trouble seeing the remnants of anger still etched into his features. His mouth looked tight and his eyes … well, face it, his eyes looked good. Angry but good.

  “So,” she asked, keeping her gaze fixed on those eyes, “how’d it go with the wicked witch?”

  “Ugly.”

  “Want to talk?” she asked, and wasn’t sure if he’d take her up on it or not. And while he thought about it, she filled the lingering silence. “Hard to believe, since I talk so much myself, but people tell me I’m a good listener. And sometimes it helps to talk to a stranger and—”

  “You’re not a stranger, Carla.”

  A ripple of something warm and luscious rolled up her spine at just the way he said her name. Silly. Schoolgirl silly, yet there it was. Man, she was in some potentially deep trouble here.

  “So,” she said, clearing her throat, “a friend, then?”

  He laughed shortly, but she didn’t hear the slightest hint of laughter in his tone. “I don’t usually think about kissing my friends.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Well, that settled that. “Then I don’t want to be your friend.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHE WAS A GIFT, Jackson thought.

  One he didn’t deserve.

  But one he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything or anyone.

  Just looking at her, standing there in the shadows, with ghostly fingers of fog drifting around her, was enough to bring him to his knees. Her long-sleeved black T-shirt clung to her figure, outlining every curve. Her worn blue jeans skimmed along her rounded hips and long legs like a lover’s touch. The cold ocean wind lifted those black curls of hers and twisted them about her face in a wild dance. Her skin seemed luminescent in the weird lighting, and her eyes shone with the same desire pulsing through him.

  He’d been standing here, thinking about her, trying not to think about her, for what felt like hours. Jackson couldn’t afford to get involved right now. If nothing else, his in-laws’ visit had reminded him of that. They’d made it clear countless times that unless he pulled off a miracle this summer, he would lose Reese forever. And that’s all he should be concentrating on. Finding a miracle. Making it happen.

  Instead, there was Carla, infiltrating his life, his dreams. Images of her laughing, shouting, taking care of those puppies, playing with Reese, they all tumbled over and over again through his mind, chasing away the shadows, the dark corners that had become such a part of him during the last year.

  But if the shadows left his soul, wouldn’t he just be … empty?

  Abbey raced back from wherever she’d gone to and plopped herself down in front of him, apparently waiting for a little attention herself. He kept his gaze focused on the woman watching him while he stroked the golden’s head.

  “So?” Carla asked when the silence stretched on toward eternity. “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

  He grinned and realized that he hadn’t laughed or smiled so much in years as he had since meeting Carla. His gaze shifted briefly to her mouth and everything inside him tightened. But it wasn’t just the physical urge to kiss her that had him wanting to grab her and hold her and bury his face in the sweet curve of her neck. It was Carla herself.

  Brash and honest and outspoken, she was different from every other woman he’d ever known. Her family was as much a part of her as her brown eyes, and yet she was a strong, fiercely independent woman. She sparked things in him he hadn’t even been aware of. She made him laugh, despite the ax hanging over his head. With gentleness and kindness she’d begun to reach Reese when no one else had been able to come close.

  And she set his blood on fire just by breathing.

  “Hello?” Carla asked, taking a step closer. “You taking a nap?”

  “Nope.”

  “Great. So are you?”

  “Going to kiss you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, drawing that one word out into two or three syllables.

  “I’m thinking about it.” He eased away from the wall, moving toward her.

  “Well then, I’ll think about letting you.” She pushed a windblown strand of hair out of her eyes.

  “You’ll let me.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  She was just an arm’s reach away. He swore he could smell her scent on the ocean-flavored air and it swirled down inside him, spreading like a fever.

  “Because you liked our first one.”

  Carla gave him a slow smile. “I do love a cocky man.”

  “Not so cocky,” he said, finally reaching for her, pulling her close, wrapping one arm around her middle. His right hand swept up her body to cup her cheek, tipping her face up until he could look down into her eyes. Desire shone there, along with something else. Something deeper, stronger, and he had to look away before he saw too much, felt too much. His gaze moved over her features, even as his fingers stroked her smooth, soft skin. He traced his thumb across her cheekbone and felt the warmth of her rush into his bloodstream. She touched him. Her hands splayed open against his chest, and heat swam from his brain straight to his groin.

  Better. Much better. Want, hunger—those he could deal with. Anything else wasn’t an option.

  As he slid his hand from her face to the back of her head, his fingers slid through her hair, loving the silky feel of it against his skin. “Not cocky,” he whispered, lowering his head to hers, “just hungry for you.”

  His words sent a ripple of excitement dancing along her spine. His voice, a whispered hush of need, seared her blood and she knew that despite everything else that had been going on tonight, this moment had been in the back of her mind. Since that first too-brief kiss hours ago, she’d been wanting another shot at it. Another taste of the sweet, hot rush of desire that she hadn’t felt in far too long.

  It didn’t seem to matter that this was nuts. She didn’t care that there was no future here. After all, if no promises were made, then no promises could be broken. They couldn’t let each other down if neither of them expected anything more than a kiss. And with that thought firmly in mind, Carla leaned in toward him, going up on her toes, tilting her head, and holding her breath as his mouth claimed hers.

  The first flush of heat swept through her with the force of storm-tossed waves. Her knees weakened, as if she were trying to hold her balance in an undertow, but that didn’t seem to matter, since he was holding her tightly enough to cut off her air. Which she didn’t mind in the slightest.

  Who needed air when you could have lips?

  His mouth moved over hers in a fury of dazzling need and she responded, parting her lips for his invasion, welcoming the wild ride of sensations. His tongue swept into her warmth, and with his first caress he stole her breath and sent fiery explosions splintering through her brain.

  Cold air and warm hands touched her, held her, teased her, and Carla wasn’t sure if the shivers wracking her body were from the damp or from his touch. And she was way too involved to try to figure it out. Her fingers speared through his hair, holding his head to her, silently demanding more of his mouth, his taste.

  Her blood danced, her body throbbed, and she had an incredible urge to yank his shirt off just to feel his skin beneath her hands. And while he kissed her, plundering her mouth with fevered deliberation, she realized with a shock that her reaction to Jackson had nothing to do with how long it had been since she was kissed last. This was all him. No one else had ever done this to her before. No man had ever been able to light up her insides like a bonfire on the beach with a single kiss.

  Later, she told herself, think about it later. Right now, just enjoy. Her hands fe
ll to his shoulders and her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, digging right down for his skin. His hold on her tightened, his arms flexing around her middle, squeezing her, holding her tightly to him, molding her body to his. The world fell away. The roar of the ocean faded away. They were alone. Just the two of them. Just—

  Ninety-five pounds of golden retriever hit them both hard enough to end the kiss and send them staggering.

  Abbey, reared up on her hind legs, planted one forepaw on each of them and stuck her head between theirs, licking and sniffing in delight at this new game.

  Jackson grunted.

  Carla laughed, loud and long, then released Jackson so she could catch Abbey. “Feeling left out, were you?” she asked. The dog gave her a slurping kiss, then aimed one at Jackson.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, wiping one hand across his jaw.

  Abbey wobbled a little on her hind legs, then dropped to sit at their feet, turning her head to watch one, then the other of them. Jackson could have sworn the dog was smiling.

  And hell, he should be grateful to the canine chaperone. Another minute or two of that kiss and he’d have had Carla stretched out in the damp grass. He could almost see her there now, naked and willing, and everything in him yearned to feel that. To lose himself in her touch as he’d lost himself in her kiss.

  But now that the spell was broken, that wouldn’t be happening tonight. And it was probably just as well. Carla wasn’t the kind of woman a man walked away from easily. And he would have to walk away. Better to just leave that kiss a stand-alone incident. Better for both of them.

  “Well, that was way better than the first one,” she said, and he lifted his gaze to her smiling eyes. “We must get better with practice.”

  “Yeah,” he said, wanting to taste her again and knowing he couldn’t. He shoved both hands into his jeans pockets, stared at a point just over her head, so he wouldn’t have to look into those dark brown eyes, and said, “Carla, look, I—”

  “Right.” She held up one hand and he looked at her in time to see her shake her head, a wry twist of a half-smile on her face. “No, no. Wait. Let me guess. You’re about to say, ‘We have to talk.’”

  “What?” His body still humming with the near electrical charge of excitement she’d stirred inside him, he only stared at her.

  She laughed shortly, harshly, and it sounded as though it had scraped across her throat. She pushed her windblown hair back from her face. “Oh, hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve heard this speech before.”

  “What speech?” he demanded as she backed up a step, her features going as cold and unforgiving as the wind whipping in off the ocean. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You just kissed me like you were a man dying of thirst and I was the only drinking fountain in hundreds of miles,” she said. “And now you’re about to tell me that it won’t happen again.”

  Guilt jabbed at him, along with a little irritation. Okay, sure, he had been about to say pretty much just that. But he didn’t care for the way she was lumping him in with whoever had given her the speech last.

  “I knew this was gonna happen, you know,” she was saying as she paced in short angry steps back and forth in front of him. “I even told myself to steer clear. To never mind those eyes of yours. To forget about the broad shoulders and the nice butt.”

  He straightened up a little, grinning. “Nice butt?”

  She glared at him, and with her eyes narrowed, she looked damn dangerous.

  “See,” Carla went on, warming to the subject as she talked, “I’ve been down this road before. I even recognized the road signs.” She kept pacing, her steps quickening, and Abbey jumped up to pace with her, four feet matching steps with two. “Remember the fiancé I told you about?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “That was a rhetorical question,” she snapped. “Anyway, he’s the one who was still so hung up on the former fiancée, he wound up going back to her?”

  He stepped in front of her to slow her down, but she just swung wide around him, her tennis shoes squeaking slightly on the damp grass. Abbey pranced and jumped alongside her as if enjoying this new game.

  “Yeah, I remember you telling me about him, but what’s he got to do with this?” he demanded.

  “It’s the same damn thing all over again,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Carla wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or scream. No, she didn’t want to cry. She’d done enough crying over the last couple of years to last her a lifetime. What she really wanted was to punch him in the nose, but she’d probably break her hand.

  She should have known. Damn it. He’d even told her flat-out that his wife had died only a year ago. Of course he would still be in love with her. And wouldn’t be interested in anybody else. Although why that should bother her so much she didn’t know, since she didn’t want a relationship, either, right? Right. But still, she’d been dumped for a former fiancée. She didn’t especially enjoy being dumped for a dead wife, too.

  “You know, when you moved in, I told myself … summer renters. Temporary. Butt out, Carla. But did I listen?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Hell, no, I didn’t listen. I’m a Candellano. We don’t listen to anybody!”

  He grabbed her as she passed him again, dropping both hands on her shoulders and holding on. “You’re going to listen to me.”

  “Why should I?” She pulled free. “I’ve heard it all before.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he muttered, fixing his gaze on hers. “But I’m going to say what I started to say.”

  “Fine. Go ahead.” She crossed her arms over her chest, cocked her head, stared at him, and tapped the toe of her shoe against the earth.

  He let her go, took a step back, and said, “When you showed up tonight, walking out of the fog like that, it was—” He looked at her. “Like I’d willed you to come to me. And I wanted you more than my next breath.”

  “Hmm. Past tense. That’s nice.”

  “Damn it, Carla. This isn’t just about me. Or you. I’m only here in Chandler because of Reese. And she’s the one I have to think about now. Not myself. Not what I want or need, but what she needs.”

  “And it should be,” she snapped. “Your daughter should come first, I get that. I approve, even. Heck, I’m not looking for a husband, remember?” She reached down and laid one hand on Abbey’s silky head as if needing to be grounded. “I don’t even know why I’m so pissed. I mean, Stevie told me I should use you, then discard you—”

  “Discard me?” he asked. “Who the hell is Stevie?”

  She ignored him. “But that’s not me, so that wasn’t going to happen. And I know damn well that summer renters are temporary, so this wasn’t going to go anywhere anyway…”

  Jackson tried to keep up with the stream of words pouring from her.

  “… but then there was Reese and she was so cute and so lost and before I knew it, I was being sucked in and there was no way out again.” She threw her hands high and let them slap against her thighs. “So it’s my own fault and I really shouldn’t be mad at you at all, so don’t worry about it, by tomorrow I’ll probably be fine and we can forget all about this whole miserable little scene.”

  “Forget it?” he asked as she walked past him, obviously in a hurry to get away from him. “Carla, that kiss is going to haunt me.”

  She stopped dead, looked back over her shoulder, and gave him a small smile. “That’s kind of a booby prize,” she said, “but I’ll take it.”

  She walked away from him, her and her dog, and in a few steps they were swallowed by the mist and Jackson was alone in the cold, damp fog.

  * * *

  The rain wouldn’t stop.

  It slammed into him, dragging him down, pushing at him, and every step was a labor. The scream came again and his blood went like ice. A child’s voice. Horrified. The scream tore at the air like fingernails on a blackboard and Jackson followed it, heart pounding.

  Firemen hovered
around the back of the car, prying at the passenger door with the Jaws of Life. Machinery hummed, metal screeched, and still that scream went on, ripping at his heart, chipping away at his soul.

  Reese.

  Alive.

  Thank you, God.

  He pushed past the uniforms standing between him and the car. He had to reach his little girl. He had to get to her. Stop her screams. Help her. Save her. Please, Reese.

  Daddy’s coming.

  Daddy’s here.

  And a movement caught the corner of his eye.

  He turned his head, looked at the tarp-draped bundle in the ruined front seat.

  It moved.

  The tarp shifted, sliding back. Rain pounded through that broken windshield, chasing the yellow plastic as it fell away.

  Breath caught in his lungs.

  He stared at Diane’s face, torn by the glass, her long blond hair matted with blood.

  Her eyes opened. She stared at him. And smiled.

  “You did this,” she whispered.

  And Jackson woke in a cold sweat, heart hammering in his chest.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  IT WAS LATE BY the time Tony got home.

  He pulled into the driveway, turned the engine off, and simply sat there in the dark. Everything Carla had said to him still echoed in his mind, taunting him with the knowledge that he’d really made a mess of things. He stared at his house and thought about the people inside. Tina, his baby. From the moment of her birth, Tony had been a goner where she was concerned. She’d opened her eyes for her first look at the world, fixed those dark brown eyes on her daddy, and stolen his heart in the space of a breath.

  And Beth.

  He’d loved her since freshman year of high school. Her smile had drawn him in and her soul had captured him forever. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. And that’s what scared him.

  Things were changing.