by Laura Wright
He nodded, feeling hesitant, but knowing he'd better remember that it was only Lily he wanted to spend time with. "Well, feel free to roam about the ranch or—"
"How about some iced tea, Ava?" Muna called coming toward them.
Ava gave Jared an almost relieved half smile. "Looks like I'm taken care of."
Jared watched her walk across the lawn, her hips swaying with the rhythm of the wind in the trees that lined his long drive. His groin tightened painfully and he turned away. He and Ava were separated again. But this time, it wasn't by evasion. It was by choice.
His choice.
* * *
Ava took a sip of her iced tea, then lifted her gaze and smiled across the kitchen table at Muna. "Mint and lemongrass. My favorite."
"I remember," Muna said, her eyes warm. 'It wasn't so long ago."
A heaviness resided in Ava's chest as she said quietly, "It seems like forever."
"Ah… Being away from Paradise or from Jared?"
Ava grinned, shook her head. She couldn't help herself. That was the Muna she knew and loved and remembered. No beating around the bush, just straight talking—though her tough questions were always wrapped in affection.
"I've missed them both," Ava confessed. "One maybe more than the other."
Muna reached across the rugged oak table and covered Ava's pale hand with her brown, weathered one. "You are here now and that is what matters."
In that moment, as Ava looked into the eyes of the wise old woman before her, it was as if time had never passed and the solid connection between them had never been severed. Muna had always embodied the phrase, "welcoming arms." And for a girl who'd lost her mother early in life, Ava had cleaved to Muna, held tight to the aura of security, home and hearth that emanated from the woman. It had been unbelievably hard to leave Paradise without saying goodbye all those years ago, and Ava couldn't help but feel a new surge of guilt every time she looked at Muna.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and spoke from her heart. "I want to tell you how sorry I am for—"
Muna lifted her hand from Ava's and waved it about. "No, no. None of that now. You took the path that appeared the brightest—or appeared the least painful—I know. And perhaps it was. Perhaps it was not." A breeze wafted lazily through the large picture window to Muna's left, causing the stray hairs on her salt and pepper braids to dance. "Live now, in the moment, with no regrets, Nahtona."
"Nahtona? What does it mean?"
Her mouth curved with fondness. "I will tell you another day, my dear."
It wasn't uncommon for Muna to plant seeds within a person, and Ava never pushed to have them watered. She much preferred to figure out how they grew on her own. So, she nodded her acquiescence and turned to gaze out the window. A smile tugged at her lips. Out on the sprawling lawn, amidst flowering plants and lovely shady trees, her daughter was running in circles astride her stick horse, holding the pole with one hand and the makeshift bridle with the other. Jared was calling out "Yee-ha" with a husky cry as Lily's long, copper hair flew about, her face emanating pure glee.
Suddenly all pleasure left Ava and she turned back to face Muna. "I have to say one thing."
"All right."
"I'm not proud of taking that path."
Muna smiled. "Then take another."
"I think I have." Her gaze flickered toward the window. "I hope I have."
"It's far easier to look back and point out the mistakes you've made than to see them at the time." She poured Ava another glass of the fragrant tea. "Your father knows this well."
"My father?" Ava said, surprised.
"He has also taken another path."
"Yes." She exhaled heavily. "Rita told me that, too. I don't know if I can ever believe it, though."
"Why do we fight against forgiveness?" Muna seemed to be asking no one in particular. Then she looked up and smiled. "Thank you for bringing Lily to meet her father. And her great-grandmother."
"I hadn't exactly planned … well, Rita's wedding was really the—"
Muna's smile broadened. "It was time for all of you to know your truths."
Ava flinched at her words. If Muna only knew that there were still deceptions to be had, she thought. Her fictitious husband and the real reason why she'd left Paradise. Those truths hovered in the air around Ava like a swarm of troublesome mosquitoes.
"Shall I read your cards?" Muna asked her. The warmth of the kitchen turned oppressive. No matter how interested she was in what was to come, Ava didn't think Muna's cards would be able to enlighten her at all. Her future was not predicable at this point. It was up in the air with those tiresome mosquitoes.
"Not today, Muna, but thank you."
The old woman just nodded, a faraway look in her eyes.
* * *
Jared saw Ava glance down at her watch for the second time in a half hour. It was dark outside, close to eight-thirty and cooler than usual. He didn't want Ava and Lily to leave, but he knew they probably should. His first real day with his daughter had been one of the best of his life, and later when Ava had joined them out on the grass, lying back, watching the clouds pass across the sky, it had been damn near perfect.
Muna had prepared a wonderful dinner and afterward Jared had built a fire in the living room where the four of them sat close to the hearth and traded jokes and posed riddles. They'd all forgotten about the past in those few hours, especially when Muna had spun one of her stories about her life on the reservation as a young woman. Riveted, Lily had sat at her great-grandmother's feet, drinking in every word.
Until about ten minutes ago that is, Jared mused, taking in the little girl's closed eyes and peaceful expression, her head resting in her mother's lap.
They should go, Jared told himself silently. This was not a family no matter how much it felt like one. And the sooner he got that through his thick head the better.
He watched Ava gather Lily into her arms. He couldn't help thinking about Lily as a baby, lying on Ava's chest, cuddling, cooing, nursing. He had missed so much.
Ava caught his eye, whispered, "I need to get her home."
"She could stay." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I have a room for her."
Ava lowered her gaze.
"And for you, too," he added, not sure how he was going to react in the hours between bedtime and dawn knowing she was only doors away.
Stay away from her, Redwolf. She's out of your life. Only Lily matters, only Lily is important.
"I don't think so," Ava began. "It's a strange house and—"
"She's asleep." Muna rose from her place beside the fire and walked to Ava, touched her shoulder. "Let her stay."
Ava looked up at Muna, gave her a soft smile. "All right."
Muna nodded. "Very good. I have baskets to finish. Good night Ava. Jared." She bent, kissed Lily's flushed cheek. "Good night, Little Star."
Fast asleep, Lily didn't stir. Jared heard the soft footfall of his grandmother ascending the stairs as he glanced over at Ava. The light from the fire made her beautiful face glow, made her blond hair alive with the colors of a tigress. Warning sirens blasted in his head. He'd assumed that Muna would show Ava to her room, but now he was alone with her, faced with the unnerving task of taking her upstairs and showing her where she was going to sleep.
He mentally shook his head to scatter the unwanted images that dwelled there. "Let me put my little girl to bed, Ava," he said. "Afterward, I'll show you where you're going to sleep."
Her gaze searched his, then she nodded. "Okay."
He knelt beside Ava and slid his arms beneath his daughter. For one brief moment, they were all touching, all connected, and he'd never felt a pull so strong. Ava's soft perfume crept into his nostrils and took up residence. Why did she have to still wear that scent? he wondered dumbly, his pulse thundering in his blood. And why hadn't their physical attraction died—or even subsided—in four years? Even now, when he knew she'd lied to him, kept him from his daughter, he sti
ll wanted her.
Their gazes caught, held them both captive. Only the unrelenting sounds of the ticking wall clock, the snap of the fire and Lily's deep, peaceful breathing could be heard.
Finally Ava looked away and released Lily into his arms. "I think I'll see if the kitchen needs some attention. We didn't let Muna out of our sight after dinner."
"I'm sure it's done. We have a housekeeper."
"Really? I didn't see her today."
He hugged Lily tighter and whispered, "She stays out of Muna's way. I hired the woman to help so Muna wouldn't have to work anymore, but my stubborn grandmother was far more insulted than grateful."
Ava chuckled softly. "Lily's stubborn when she wants to do something herself. She must've gotten it from her great-grandmother."
Ava paled and awkwardness sat between them for a moment. Her eyes held sadness and perhaps a little shame, for she'd kept Lily from her great-grandmother, too. But her shame and his anger couldn't be helped now. What was done was done, and Jared needed to keep the peace for his daughter's sake.
"Why don't you come up with us?" he suggested. "Like you said, it's a strange house, strange bed."
She shook her head. "I'll stay down here for a while. I want you to have this time with her."
Why the hell did he want to say, "Ava, it's our time to be with our daughter?" That wasn't how it was going to work—or how he wanted it. Sure, they were going to share Lily. But in different houses, different holidays and very separate lives.
He nodded, said, "If you change your mind, it's upstairs, second room on the right," then started up the stairs.
"Oh, wait a sec," she whispered behind him.
He turned to see her rifling through her big blue duffel bag. She pulled out several things, then held up a book.
"She always wakes up a little when I put her into bed. She likes to be read, too." She met him on the third stair and handed him the book. The Giving Tree. "It's her favorite."
* * *
Stars, brilliant diamonds against black velvet, dotted the night sky. From the spacious balcony attached to her room, Ava leaned against the railing and looked over Jared's vast property. The cool air felt heavenly against her skin and she closed her eyes and breathed in the scents of hay and roses.
She smiled as she recalled her phone conversation with Rita a moment ago. Ava hadn't expected a lecture from her sister about spending the night at Jared's, but she sure hadn't bargained on the five-minute cheerleading session that concluded with the phrase, "Now I know it's been a long time, so if I can answer any questions…"
"Do you need anything else?"
Ava turned sharply to find Jared stepping out onto the adjoining balcony. Her breath caught. So their rooms were next to each other, were they? Was this a wise idea on his part?
Fifteen minutes earlier he'd seemed completely different—softer—as she'd watched him from the doorway of Lily's room, taking a seat at the edge of her little girl's bed and breaking out The Giving Tree.
Right now, however, he looked imposing standing there in his sweatshirt, jeans and bare feet, practically taking up the entire space. The soft lights behind him cast his tall, well-built form in a hazy glow. He was truly the sexiest man alive and he was sleeping right next door.
Four years ago she would have been standing beside him, touching him freely, kissing that full mouth whenever she wanted. But now…
"Pillows, extra blanket?" he said, running a hand through his thick black hair.
Another thing she could've done any time she'd wanted to, she thought. "No. I'm fine. We'll be out of your hair in the morning." She felt her eyes widen at the slip. "Thanks for the … hospitality."
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back against the railing. "You make me sound like a Holiday Inn."
"In that case, I'd like the key to the mini bar."
"Having a Milky Way craving?"
She cracked a smile. "I'm desperate." She shook her head, laughed softly. "I can't believe you still remember that."
He pushed away from the wall, grinned. "Those cravings were serious. No Milky Way
, no kiss. No kiss, no—"
He came to an abrupt halt, plunged both hands into the pockets of his jeans.
Ava felt her skin warm, though a cool breeze continually blew. She mused on the private memories that had been locked away in her heart until now. Every night a Milky Way had appeared on her nightstand. And on those nights when she could sneak out to meet him, she gave him a long thank you. Afterward, they'd share the candy. Once he'd even sneaked the candy bar into the hospital when she'd broken her wrist.
"Look, I've been thinking," Jared began. "Anger between parents is no good for a child. I'm willing to be civil if you are."
At that moment she'd be anything he wanted her to be. She swallowed hard. "Civility works for me."
His gaze suddenly caught on the left side of her face. He walked to the very edge of the balcony. "Don't move." He reached out for her, his hand brushing past her face and into her hair.
She practically sighed and melted against his palm.
He pulled back, a pretty white moth in between his thumb and forefinger. He lightly tossed it into the air, then his compelling and bone-meltingly seductive gaze found Ava's. "Trapped in Paradise."
She held her breath. No truer words were ever spoken.
His gaze moved downward and his eyes turned black as coal. With great calm and coolness, he turned and walked away, back into his bedroom, calling over his shoulder, "Good night, Ava."
She stared after him, thanking whoever was listening above, beyond those perfect stars, that Jared had said good night, not goodbye.
* * *
Six
« ^ »
Ava lay on top of him, her hair pulled back off of her face, her eyes imploring him as her naked body pressed against him.
"Jared…"
She whispered his name, her lips moving in slow motion, her hands raking his shoulders and up his neck.
"Jared, please."
When she asked like that, he could deny her nothing. Quick as a cat, he rolled over, slipping her beneath him. He was hard as granite and ready to bury himself deep within her.
"Jared! Wake up!"
His eyes flew open, his heart pounding like a jack-hammer. Shafts of sunlight coated the walls of his room like burnished yellow paint and Ava lay under him, her frame molded to his, her hands cupping his face. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming, but that wasn't possible. Ava was fully dressed now and her eyes weren't filled with the desire of a moment ago. They were a deep forest-green and highly agitated.
"What are you doing here?" he said, his voice husky with sleep, husky with lust.
"What am I—" She shot him a withering glance. "You grabbed me and pinned me under you."
"Not under me, dammit! What are you doing in my room?"
"Lily's sick, Jared," she said, attempting to wriggle out from under him. "I think she has a fever."
He was off of her in seconds. "What?"
"It might've been something she ate yesterday," Ava said, coming to her feet. "Her stomach hurts and—"
She stopped talking and her gaze dropped, then widened. Jared glanced down and quickly realized that he was highly aroused and not wearing a stitch of clothing. Cursing, he yanked the sheet off the bed and covered himself.
Ava's cheeks flashed bright red. "I would have gone to Muna, but I didn't know where her room was."
"Why would you go to Muna?" he said tightly. "I'm Lily's father. You come to me."
"I did come to you, and you practically…" She gestured toward the bed.
"I was asleep, Ava. I didn't know what the hell I was doing." He raised a brow at her. "Can you turn around for a minute?"
With a heavy sigh, she did as he asked. "Look, I was going to go to Muna first because I thought she might know where I could find a thermometer. Do you have one?"
"I don't know. Doubt it." Jared pulled on his jeans, a kno
t the size of boulder forming in his gut. His child was sick and he probably didn't even have something as standard as a thermometer. "Well, I'm not going to waste time looking for one."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm calling a doctor."
"I thought of that, but it's too early," she said over her shoulder. "They won't be in."
"This isn't the big city, Ava. Doc Ward's a friend. He'll be here in ten minutes." He tossed on a T-shirt. "You go back to Lily. I'll be there in a minute."
She turned to face him. "Jared?"
"What?"
"Don't sound so worried. Every child gets a little stomach bug from time to time. It's normal."
"Is it?" His jaw tightened. "I wouldn't know."
He watched her expression turn from sympathetic to weary, and felt a twinge of regret. With a short nod, she left the room.
Jared snatched up the phone. Why should he feel guilty for saying the truth—for getting angry? He had a sick kid in his house and no experience under his belt. He felt totally inept at being a father. Totally insecure about his role.
What if Lily needed his help and he had no clue how to help her?
Tightness settled around his chest.
He didn't know a damn thing about being a parent, he thought, punching in Doc Ward's phone number. And the one person that did, the person who could teach him—help him become a good father—made him angry as hell and crazy with lust.
* * *
"She needs plenty of fluids and lots of bed rest. But she should be up and about in a couple of days."
Ava looked across the coffee table at the doctor. The balding man with friendly eyes and a soft smile had given Lily a thorough check-up and had declared her stomach pains and slight fever a mild case of the flu. Just as she'd thought. But Jared had needed the doctor's analysis. The doctor must have been a pretty close friend, too, someone to be trusted, Ava mused, because Jared had told him the truth about she and Lily, then sworn him to secrecy.
Ava glanced over her shoulder at Jared, who had refused to sit down and was standing, arms crossed, behind the couch. With all of the doctor's assurances, Jared still looked worried, and for the first time in a long time, Ava felt thoroughly connected to him. She knew that anxious, out-of-control feeling so well. It was a shame that she couldn't talk with him about it, offer him a little comfort.
