by Ella Brooke
Startled, I yelped. The hood made it impossible to see to the sides, but I hadn’t been too worried about my peripheral vision considering how little crime there was here. But the something—no, someone—had me firmly by the arm and was trying to drag me into an alley almost before I knew what was happening.
I shouted for help and kicked out as hard as I could. My toe made satisfying contact with bone, presumably his kneecap, and I heard a masculine voice muttering curse words. The hand let go of my arm, and I turned, trying to catch a glimpse of my assailant so I could kick him again. Preferably in the balls this time. But before I could locate him, I heard the sound of a body hitting the ground.
I yanked down my hood and saw Hunter Kensington standing in front of me, a murderous expression on his face. On the dirty asphalt of the alley lay a man in dark clothing. It was hard to make out details, but I was pretty sure he was wearing a ski mask as well.
Hunter had been glaring down at the guy he’d apparently knocked out, but now he looked back at me, his eyes flaring gold with an intensity I’d rarely seen from him. Even in the darkness those eyes seemed to glitter. “Are you all right?” he demanded.
“I—I’m fine.” The truth was that I was a little shaky, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. “I—I kicked him.”
“I saw.” His mouth unexpectedly curved into a grin, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “You kicked the hell out of him. Good going.”
“Did you—did you hit him?”
“No, just gave him a good shove. I—“
A sudden movement caught my eye, and I glanced down in time to see the dark shadow of my assailant scurrying off into the darkness. Apparently he hadn’t been completely unconscious after all. Hunter spun around to give chase, but I caught him by the arm of his jacket.
“Don’t,” I told him. “He might have a weapon.”
“In Pinecone?” His voice was wryly amused, but there was something in his eyes as he looked down at my hand on his arm, something strangely intent.
“It’s possible. And I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
He looked back up at me, and something changed in his eyes, the gold going molten in an instant. “Wouldn’t you?”
“No,” I said softly. I couldn’t look away from his golden gaze. It held me, like the eyes of the jungle cat people used to compare him to, like he was a lion and I was a gazelle pinned there helplessly, just waiting for him to pounce…
Abruptly, he looked away. “Come on,” he said, and his voice was oddly hoarse. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He looked at me again. “You don’t trust me, huh?”
I hesitated, reluctant to hurt his feelings. Considering his past, there was no good reason for me to trust him. He was a felon, after all, and besides, now that I had time to think about it, it seemed more than a little weird that he’d conveniently been there to save me precisely when I’d needed saving. From an assailant in Pinecone, a town with almost no crime to speak of. It was oddly coincidental, and the strangeness of it made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Something, I thought, was not quite right here.
At any rate, even if I hadn’t had questions about him bouncing around in my brain, I couldn’t possibly take the chance of him escorting me home. What if Mom was still awake and she invited him in? He could hardly miss the photos of Diana that adorned every surface in the house.
“Of course I trust you,” I said at last, less than truthfully. “But I’ll be okay, so don’t worry. Home is just a few blocks away.”
He seemed to know I was lying. His head lowered slightly, and his mouth drooped at the corners, as if he sensed my rejection and it hurt him. “All right,” he said softly.
The change in his stance made me feel guilty. He’d saved me, after all. Who knew what that guy might have done to me if Hunter hadn’t come along?
“But…” I stood on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for saving me, Hunter.”
He turned his head and stared at me for a moment, and all at once our mouths met. I don’t know who made the first move, but suddenly we were kissing, hot and wet and open-mouthed, frantic, and his arms were around my waist, crushing me against him.
Images of that night we’d made love in the alley so long ago flashed through my mind. He must have been thinking of it too, because before I knew it he had me up against a rough brick wall, much like the one behind Zippo’s, and his hard masculine body was pressing into me.
And by hard, I mean hard.
Even through our layers of clothing, I could feel his erection shoving urgently against my belly, and it made something hot flame to life inside me. It had been so long since I’d been with any man. Well, to be accurate, I’d been with one man exactly once. But after that I’d found myself to be pregnant, which was not Hunter’s fault, as I had wanted him so badly I’d lied about being on the pill. And between the ravages of pregnancy and my subsequent donning of a very ugly waitress uniform for eight to ten hours a day, no one seemed to have looked at me as a sexy, hot woman since my twenty-first birthday.
But Hunter wanted me. There was no doubt of it. The way he was kissing me—deeply, hungrily, like he’d longed for me for years—made it very clear how much he wanted me.
And I wanted him, too. I’d spent three long years remembering that night in the alley, aching with longing for him. Craving the feel of him inside me. Once he’d been convicted, I’d tried to push the thoughts away, knowing that it was wrong to be lusting after a criminal this way—and one who’d betrayed his own family besides.
Even so, I couldn’t help longing for him. I’d been in love with him since I was twelve, after all. And yes, that had been the sweet and innocent love of a child, but in the alley that night, all that innocent adoration had been transmuted into so intense an emotion I couldn’t seem to forget it no matter how much I tried.
I let my fingers tangle in the depths of his midnight-dark hair and wrapped one of my calves around his legs, and he lifted me by the ass and pressed me against the wall, just as he had all those years ago. Gasping, he tore his mouth away from mine and buried his face in my hair.
“I’ve been dreaming about this for so long,” he muttered. His voice was hoarse with lust and longing, and all at once it set off alarm bells in my head.
I’d been dreaming about this for three years now, but Hunter? The fabulously rich, out-of-reach billionaire who lived on the hill? It wasn’t possible that he’d been fantasizing over me all that time. It just wasn’t. He’d probably spent those lonely years dreaming about all the models and actresses and singers he’d bedded. So what could he possibly mean by those words?
The answer was obvious…and depressing. He’d been in prison for years, and naturally he wanted to get laid. It wasn’t that he wanted me, per se. Any woman would do. He’d just happened to catch me in a vulnerable position, and so he’d quickly taken advantage of me.
Again I wondered if he’d somehow set up the whole situation. I’d never heard of anyone in Pinecone getting mugged. The strangeness of it kept the alarm bells ringing in my brain, and coming to a decision, I shoved at his leather-clad shoulders as forcefully as I could.
“Hey. That’s enough.”
He drew back his head and looked at me. His eyes were foggy with lust, but as he blinked at me, they slowly cleared. I could see sanity returning to his face.
“I thought… I thought you wanted this,” he ventured.
“I thought I did too. But I was wrong. Let go of me.”
He hesitated only an instant, then released me and took two steps back. I tried to set myself to rights—my hair was still in its confining braid at least, and the fact that I was in a parka meant I was still decent. Although I was pretty sure that wouldn’t have been the case for much longer if I hadn’t come to my senses.
Hunter stood there, looking at me in silence, and I tried to ignore the look of hurt I thought I saw on his face.
“The offer to walk you home still stands,” he said.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” I lifted my chin and marched past him out of the alley.
I knew it was the right thing to do. Hunter was far too big a question mark for me to allow myself to give in to him. I didn’t know why he’d been here tonight, or why he kept turning up in my life, but I did know he was a criminal.
Besides, look at what had happened to me the last time I’d let myself give in to him. No, sex with Hunter could only lead to trouble and heartbreak. Steadfastly, I marched through the whirling snow, heading for home.
But I couldn’t help feeling like I’d left something terribly important behind me in that alley.
***
Hunter
I wasn’t a stalker, but I couldn’t let Char walk home all by herself this late at night. Especially considering that the guy who’d attacked her had gotten away. Probably he’d just been a random mugger—but the truth was that there weren’t a hell of a lot of muggers in this godforsaken town. Which made me wonder if maybe the guy had some personal grudge against Char.
But whether it was personal or the guy was just out hunting for women on their own, it wasn’t safe for her to be alone out here on these deserted streets. I trailed her at a distance, walking as silently as I could and keeping to shadows. In my dark leather jacket and jeans, I figured I probably looked like a shadow too. Nothing menacing leaped from the alleys we passed, though I did see her startle once at a cat that meowed from beneath a shrub. Clearly the experience had left her a little jumpier than she’d wanted to let on.
Before long we entered the residential part of town lined with flickering street lights, and I thought about turning back. But I still hadn’t gotten over seeing that guy grab her and drag her off the street, and I felt compelled to be certain she made it home safely. Moments later she headed up the familiar, tree-lined lane into her old neighborhood. I realized she must still be living with her mother, and wondered again if she was living in this one-horse town because her mother was sick and needed her. She’d been so ambitious, so driven when she was younger that looking after her mother was the only explanation I could imagine that made sense.
As a teenager, I’d spent almost as much time at Jacob’s house as I had at my own home. Jacob had been a good guy, loyal and kind, and unlike everyone else in the world, he’d seen through my bad boy façade at a glance. And so had his mom.
And yet, I remembered with a crushing sense of shame, I’d scornfully referred to my visits to his house as “heading over to the wrong side of the tracks.”
Despite my youthful contempt, it was actually a decent neighborhood, though the houses were older—mostly squat, deep-porched bungalows from the 1920s, with a few graceful Victorians scattered here and there like brightly colored gems. But as Char turned onto her own front walk, I looked at the old bungalow with a sense of shock. Even in the dim yellow light from the streetlights, I could see that it was in desperate need of maintenance. The paint was peeling from the trim, and the old wooden steps that led to the porch looked like they were badly warped.
I remembered it as a well-maintained home, and again I wondered if Mrs. Evans was okay. But my fears were assuaged when I heard a familiar voice call out, “Welcome home, dear!”
For a brief, breath-stealing moment, I thought Mrs. Evans was calling to me. But then I realized that of course she was speaking to her own daughter. She looked healthy, if much grayer than the last time I’d seen her, and my fears receded.
Next to her on the porch sat Jacob.
They were seated on tattered old wicker chairs in a pool of golden light from the porch lights, and between them on a little table sat what looked like a small radio. Seeing Jacob hurt worse than I’d thought it would, and once again I was hit with that crushing sense of shame. If only I hadn’t been such an arrogant, elitist jerk in high school… If only the two of us were still friends…
But I didn’t have any friends. Not anymore.
The whirling flurries almost hid my view of the old house as Char sank gratefully down on the old porch swing. She was clearly exhausted, but she nevertheless began chatting happily with her family about her day. I was too far away to hear their conversation clearly, but it was very obviously domestic and happy. I’d seen her home safely, and I knew I should crawl away into the darkness, alone and unwanted. But I couldn’t seem to stop looking at the happy family tableau in front of me.
And then, to my shock, a little voice rang out clearly from the little radio on the table.
“Mama?”
“Oh!” Char bounded to her feet as if she’d forgotten her exhaustion entirely, and a bright smile bloomed on her face. “She’s awake!” She all but sprinted into the house, and a moment later her family followed, closing the door behind them.
I stood there in the shadows, feeling like I’d been slammed in the head with an anvil. Snow spun around me, falling harder and harder, but I scarcely noticed.
Char had a daughter. A daughter old enough to talk.
Chapter Six
Charlotte
When Hunter came storming into the diner the next morning, I knew he wasn’t there to order bacon and eggs.
There was a feral look in his eyes, a dangerous gleam that made me think once again of a jungle cat sizing me up for dinner. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept all night, and he didn’t bother with a seat, just walked up to me, catching me between tables. His scent, wintry and cool, drifted to me, but I tried to ignore it.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low, ominous.
My heart pounded in my chest so loudly I was afraid he might hear it, but I refused to show any fear. I lifted my chin and looked him straight in the eye.
“I’m working right now,” I said. “I don’t get a break till noon.”
“I don’t care,” he said between his teeth. “I want to talk to you outside, right now, or I’ll create a scene that will keep the good people of Pinecone talking about you for the next year. Understood?”
Oh, I understood all right. I didn’t see any way out of this confrontation, so I heaved a sigh and nodded.
“All right,” I said, nodding apologetically to the customers who hadn’t been served yet, and trailed after him as he strode out of the diner. It was still very cold, and a couple of inches of snow blanketed the ground, stubbornly resisting the weak efforts of the morning sun to melt it.
Outside, around the corner where the scent of the dumpster hung heavy in the air despite the cold, Hunter spun around and glared at me. If his eyes had been gleaming before, now they were practically throwing off golden sparks.
“You have a daughter,” he snapped.
Panic exploded in my chest, but I fought to keep my expression from giving anything away. I lifted an eyebrow. “I do. Who told you that?”
“I followed you last night to make sure you got home safely. I heard her on the baby monitor.”
A strange and complicated mixture of emotions eddied in my chest. I wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased that he’d been that concerned for my safety, or furious because he’d ignored my wishes and followed me—no, stalked me home. I decided on fury.
“I told you not to follow me, damn it!”
He was unimpressed by my rage. “For all we knew, that guy might have come after you again the minute I left you alone. I couldn’t let you deal with another assault on your own, could I? So I followed you. But I didn’t know you were keeping secrets, Char.”
I bristled at his accusatory tone because who the hell was he to be accusing me? He’d said he’d heard Diana calling for me on the baby monitor—and that had happened a good five minutes after I’d arrived on my own front porch safe and sound. He’d been spying on me, damn it.
“My daughter,” I said as icily as I could manage, “is absolutely none of your business.”
I tried to walk past him as regally as I could considering I was wearing an ugly uniform and clunky shoes—the furthest thing from
queenly regalia—but he caught my arm and spun me around. His eyes were filled with a seething emotion so intense it was a little scary.
“Hang on,” he spat. “I think she is my business, damn it. Is she mine, Char?”
“Yours?” I tried to suck in a steadying breath, but my lungs didn’t seem to be working. “Of course not. I told you that night, I was on the pill.”
“Don’t give me that crap!” His hand tightened on my wrist like a steel manacle. “I’ve been asking around town this morning. She’s a few months over two, and unless you’ve been with a lot more men than I think you have, that means she’s probably mine. Is she?”
I hesitated for a moment, and his hand tightened even further. “Is she?”
“Stop it. You’re hurting me.”
He glanced down at his hand, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing with it, and instantly loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding terribly remorseful. “Answer the question.”
I let out a long, unsteady sigh. “She’s yours.”
Something in his face went hard. “I want to see her.”
“I can’t—“
“Today, damn it.”
I wrenched my arm free and backed away from him slowly. All at once I was afraid of him, because the cold look on his face reminded me that he was a felon, a criminal. Hardened, ruthless, angry. He must have seen the fear in my expression, because he drew in a deep breath, and some of the ice melted from his eyes, leaving them soft and golden.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was no longer steel-edged. In fact, he sounded almost…humble. “I know I don’t have the right to come back into your life and make demands like this. I know we didn’t have a real relationship, just a one-night stand, and I also know that I’m not the sort of man you’d choose for your child’s father. I just—I’d like to see her. If you’d allow it.”
I hesitated. Despite the long years of my adolescence in which I’d dreamed innocently about Hunter, despite the past three years in which I’d fantasized about him much less innocently…I wasn’t at all sure I wanted Hunter to be part of Diana’s life.
