“Caitlin’s fine. The baby seems to be fine, too. Despite being early. But how do I think she’ll do?” She lifted one shoulder. She was tired right down to her bones. “I don’t know. She’s only seventeen. She has no family left, which, of course, is how she came to be at Castillo House. Another year and she could be out on her own, going to school, working. But with a baby?” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You think she should give him up?”
“What I think doesn’t matter. It’s a choice Caitlin will have to make.”
“Yet you just said she’s a kid.”
“I said she was very young to have so much responsibility on her plate. And then, of course, there’s the matter of who the baby’s father is. Alonso said he thinks he was a cop.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. He realized the implication of that as much as she did. Caitlin was underage. A police officer would not be. “But not who?”
“No.” She rubbed her eyes, knowing any semblance of makeup she’d once possessed was long gone.
“We need to get you some dinner.”
The comment came out of left field, halting her automatic gear into debate over what Alonso did and did not say. “Oh.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Her stomach growled. Loudly. Right on cue. And Sam’s lips tilted. Delaney felt her face heat. There was plenty of space between them in the clearing, yet just then Delaney was acutely aware of him. His presence. His height. His warmth.
The fact that he’d made her come alive after more than twenty-one cold months.
She chewed the inside of her lip. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you.” She needed to get the conversation back on her footing. “I mean, to thank you for everything you did today for Caitlin.”
“What I did for Caitlin wasn’t unusual.” He stepped closer. Delaney had the distinct feeling that her control was only a notion in her mind, a notion that was as insubstantial as a grain of sand on a windswept beach. “Anybody would’ve helped her.”
“Anybody didn’t. You did. And I’m certain Caitlin appreciates it.”
“So, if she comes back to Turnabout, maybe she won’t cross the street to the other side when she sees me.” He slid his fingers beneath the lock of hair falling over her eyebrow.
Delaney froze. “Sam—”
“Were you thinking about your brother out there? At Luis’s Point. It probably brought it all back for you. The accident you and Randy had.”
She didn’t know what was worse. Having him probe her thoughts or having him stand so close her senses were filled with memories. Recent. Not-so-recent. It didn’t matter; they were all alive in her mind, flowing in her veins. “Actually, what I was really thinking about was the other accident,” she admitted.
His lids lowered, hiding his expression. “Yeah.”
She gnawed on the inside of her lip. “I don’t think I’m pregnant, Sam. But what are we going to do if I am?”
He didn’t answer for a long while. “Hopefully a better job than we did before.”
She felt like crying all over again. “You know it was a girl,” she whispered. “The nurse told me.”
His expression wasn’t inscrutable now. It was ragged. “Jesus, Laney.”
“I’m sorry.” She dashed her fingers over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep thinking about it. Her.”
“It’s called grieving.” His voice seemed to come from deep inside him. “Maybe it’s about time.”
“Yes.” She looked over at him. The sky behind him was turning from pink to fiery red. “Are you going to charge me for the therapy session?”
His mouth kicked up.
Silence settled between them. Except, for once, it wasn’t tight with tension. It was simply…quiet.
And they stood there. Watching the sky.
When the sun finally hit the ocean in a blaze that ought to have bubbled the water, Delaney spoke. “Do you really like living here, Samson?”
She heard him sigh. “Yeah.” Then he shook his head a little. “Amazingly enough, I do. This place here needs me. ‘Turns’ don’t need much, but they need me a helluva lot more than I was ever needed in your dad’s precinct. Or any other precinct for that matter.” He angled a look her way. “You know what that’s like. Your patients need you.”
Her throat tightened. There was something distinctly different from her patients who required competent medical care and how Sam served the residents of Turnabout. She’d known other people who left practices in the city for small-town life. But she’d never once considered that it might be something she’d face.
Not that Sam wanted her to stay unless she was pregnant. And the chances of that were on a par with slim. If she were a braver woman she’d get a test done to prove it right now. “I’m a mess,” she said abruptly. Literally and emotionally. “I’d like to clean up.”
He nodded. They turned away from the vestige of sunset and headed back to the house where his truck was parked. “And then you’re going to eat.”
She was too tired and hungry to argue the statement.
Annie came out when they got to the house. She’d received word that the helicopter had already landed at the hospital in San Diego. She hugged Sam, then hugged Delaney, too. “Thanks for everything. You two were great today. You ought to talk Delaney into working here, Sam. Then Logan could stop interviewing.”
Delaney chanced a glance at Sam at that. He pulled open the door for Delaney. “Anything to save Logan some work?”
Annie laughed a little. “It’s all the paperwork involved. You know he hates it.” She went back up the steps. “See you later.”
They drove back to Sam’s place in silence. When they went inside, she immediately headed to the shower. Sam, she knew, would go throw out some seeds for the birds and then would probably fix some food that he’d insist she eat even if she no longer felt hungry.
She closed the door to the bedroom and stripped off her soiled clothing, then padded into the attached bathroom and turned on the water. Ten seconds later she was standing beneath the steaming stream, letting it wash away her emotions until she felt numb again.
When she finally came out, she put on the plain white sundress and twisted her wet hair up with a clip. She tried not to look at the wedding band that she’d moved to the dresser after Sam had left it on her bed the night of their anniversary and went out to the kitchen.
The microwave was humming, and Sam was out on the deck. He seemed to prefer it to any other place in his house. She went over to the open door and looked out. The sky was as magnificent as he’d warned. A dome of silver-speckled black meeting a carpet of rippling silver-streaked black. “What’s in the microwave?”
He jerked, looking grim. He’d obviously showered, too, and had changed. “Some chicken thing Janie brought over from Etta.”
“What’s wrong?”
He shoved back his wet hair and nudged her through the door into the kitchen. “Chad called while you were in the shower.”
Chad. Not Do-Wright. “And?”
He frowned, hesitating.
Her nerves tightened warningly. “Sam?”
“Chad’s been trying to reach you all day. Randall had another stroke. Last night.”
Her stomach plunged further. “And?” The microwave softly pinged.
He just looked at her, and she knew, even before he said the words. “I’m sorry, Laney. He died. Chad said Jessica called him this morning looking for you. Apparently, the care center notified her last night when it happened. He said she’s scheduled the funeral for the day after tomorrow.”
“My father didn’t have me listed to be notified,” she said faintly. And Jessica hadn’t paid any heed to the messages she’d left with her whereabouts.
He drew his hand down the back of her head, threading through her hair. “I don’t think I can get you to San Diego in time for any flights tonight.”
She disentangled herself from him, moving around to the microwave that was c
ontinuing to ding. She opened it and pulled out the container. “Morning will be fine.” Her voice was thin. “It’s not like my father’s going to miss me now. Obviously, Mother has already put her attorneys on the situation if she’s already planned the funeral. They may have divorced eons ago, but they still considered each other next of kin. Just watch. She’ll have a harpist and too many lilies and do exactly what my father would have hated.”
Sam exhaled and pulled her back into his arms. “How much more can happen in one day?”
She leaned against him for a moment.
He tilted back her head, studying the misery she knew she couldn’t hide. He lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips trembled. He kissed her temple. Her forehead. She inhaled shakily, his tenderness nearly undoing her.
“I wasn’t there for him, Sam. He didn’t want me, but I should have been there, anyway.”
“For you or for him?” He caught a slow tear that leaked from the corner of her eye. “You never gave your father any reason to doubt your love for him. Don’t blame yourself for living your life. For bringing Alonso down here. Your biggest strength isn’t your brains, Delaney. Though God knows you’ve got plenty. It’s your heart.”
She sniffed. “Don’t be nice, Sam. Not now.”
“I know. It’ll ruin my image.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Guess I’ll take the chance.”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
His brown eyes went black. A muscle suddenly ticked in his jaw. Then he lifted her, and her legs went around his hips as if they were designed much more for that purpose than any other.
“It doesn’t change anything.” Her voice was barely audible. The reminder was more for her than him.
But he’d heard, and his arms tightened around her. “I know that, too, Laney.”
He carried her to his bedroom. With a single swipe, he yanked back the covers and settled her in the center of the bed. His gaze unwavering, he shrugged out of his shirt. Shucked the jeans.
Delaney watched, opening herself willingly to the heat he created, wanting it to coat the pain until she couldn’t feel it anymore. “Hurry up.”
But he wouldn’t hurry. His expression gentled as he sat beside her and slowly slid his fingers beneath the straps of her dress. He drew them down until they fell loosely off her shoulders. Then his palms skimmed back up to her neck, to her face. And his mouth covered hers in an exquisitely slow kiss.
Her chest ached. Her eyes burned. She didn’t want tenderness. She wanted blinding passion. Blessed forgetfulness. She dragged her hands down to his hips, pulling.
He caught her hands. Wove his fingers through them. Continued kissing her. Brushing his lips gently against hers.
A sob caught in her throat.
He didn’t miss a beat. Brushing. Stroking. Never deepening or coaxing. Simply…kissing.
The sob birthed another. She struggled to keep it in.
His arm slid behind her. “Let it go, Laney. It’s okay. Just let it go.”
She looked at him through a glaze of tears.
And she finally let go. It was like opening a flood-gate, and he held her all the while.
She cried for her father and she cried for Randy. She cried for the baby she’d lost, and she cried for the one that was probably only a wish.
Mostly she cried for the man and the marriage that she hadn’t been able to keep.
And finally, when there were no more tears left, when she felt weak and spent and strangely cleansed, Sam still held her until she slept. But in the faint light of dawn, she woke again, only to find him awake, as well.
Still watching over her.
She lifted her hand, slowly outlining his lips. His lashes lowered for a moment, then his gaze met hers again, softened by the pale light slowly filling the room.
She sat up and pulled off her slept-in dress.
Sam lay there, still and watchful. Her dress rustled in the dawn hush as it fell from her outstretched fingers to the floor. For a moment, uncertainty held her in its grip. Then Sam lifted his hand and caught hers. Threaded their fingers together, pressing his warm palm flush against hers. She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to keep her equilibrium when need buffeted through her. His fingers tightened, inexorably drawing her toward him. Her body curved against him and her mouth found his.
He shifted, never releasing her hand, and caught the other, pressing them gently against the pillow beneath her head. And still he kissed her. The sheets rustled. She drew her foot along the heat of his calf, loving the feel of him. She dragged in a needful breath when his lips slid down to her jaw. Along her neck. Her shoulder. Words pushed at her throat, but wouldn’t escape. She managed to whisper his name and he levered up, and looked at her. His heavy hair tumbled over his forehead. His eyes looked black in the golden glow slowly creeping across the room. He was completely masculine. Fierce with want. He was…Sam.
And even if she knew better, just then, he was hers.
She curled her fingers more tightly against his and bowed against him, catching her breath in tandem with his when she took him deep inside.
He held himself still for an eternity, his gaze searching hers. “Laney.” He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment. Then caught her mouth with his.
And she was lost in the unbearable sweetness of loving her husband.
Diego made his run to the mainland early that morning so Delaney could catch the first flight out to New York.
“You want me to go with you?” Sam set her briefcase on the dock. Diego would throw down a ramp when the boat was ready.
“No. Thank you. I’m a big girl. I’ll manage.”
Back to politeness again. As if they hadn’t spent the night together. She’d risen shortly after they’d made love. He’d listened to the water running in the shower. The faint sounds of her moving around in the guest bedroom. Packing up her briefcase. Doing whatever with the clothes she’d gotten since he’d forced her to stay on the island.
She hadn’t come back to his bedroom, and he’d known the reprieve was over. Delaney Vega was back in control of all her faculties. She didn’t need to lean on anyone.
Least of all her husband.
“You don’t have to wait, if you’ve got things to attend to.”
“Always thoughtful, Delaney.” He leaned against the wood rail of the dock. The ocean smelled of salt and fish and wind. It blew over them, tossing her hair around her shoulders, plastering her thin floral skirt against her legs. “But I’ll wait.”
She lifted a shoulder as if to say “suit yourself.” It irritated the hell out of him. He looked over to see what was taking Diego so long. The old man was tinkering with the motor, a greasy rag sticking out of his pocket.
The sight was too typical to worry him. He looked back at Delaney. “How’d Alonso take your leaving?” They’d stopped by Castillo House before coming to the dock.
“He knew I’d be going sooner or later.”
Which was no answer at all. “What kind of strings did you have to pull to get him out of New York?”
She surprised him by even answering. “I threw around my mother’s name and my father’s reputation. How else do you think I could have managed it?”
He waited.
She sighed and shrugged. “I convinced Judge Wybrandt that he’d be better off here, and he wouldn’t have to ever see Alonso’s face in his courtroom again. One less orphaned teenager to deal with.” She rubbed her hands down her arms against the chill in the early morning air. They could both hear Diego’s muttered curses. An occasional clank of metal on metal. “How long is Diego going to take?”
“He has a time schedule all his own like everyone else on Turnabout. Don’t worry. You’ll catch your flight. You’ve got plenty of time yet.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“Right.”
“You should make things up with your father,” she said suddenly. “I know he’s not perfect. But he’s alive and he’s well and he’s here.”
/> “And I make damn sure he follows the terms of his parole,” he said bluntly, “so he can stay here.”
Diego’s banging grew louder. Then the engine turned. Misfired. The boat belched out a cloud of sickening exhaust. She coughed on the fumes. “I thought you were hard on him because of the past.”
“The past. The future.” He looked beyond her for a moment. “So he doesn’t break Etta’s heart.”
She pressed her soft lips together for a moment. “And everyone thinks you’re so hard.”
“That’s a good thing for a sheriff.”
The small ferry chugged alongside the dock, then stopped. The wooden planks shuddered when Diego threw out a thick rope and hopped down. He flipped out the ramp. It thudded into place. “All set, Dr. Vega.”
Delaney picked up her briefcase. She looked at Sam for a long moment. Then she stepped onto the boat.
Diego followed after her, tossing back the ramp. He scurried back to the engine room. The ferry rocked from side to side, water splashing up and over the edge of the dock, then began inching away.
Delaney leaned over the rail. “You asked me what I’d do if I could arrange my life to suit me.” She had to raise her voice above the throb of the ferry.
“Yeah.” It was the fumes from the boat getting to him, strangling his voice. He walked, keeping pace with the ferry.
“I’d arrange it so that everyone I loved would be happy.”
His hands curled into fists. “Does that include me?” He’d dredged up the question from somewhere deep and dark.
She lowered her lashes for a moment. Then she looked at him. Even across the yards separating him, he could see them. Great pools of blue. Bottomless. “You married me before, out of obligation. I’ve known it all along. And I’m not pregnant now. There’s no question anymore. No need to even take a test.” Then she backed away from the rail, and the ferry picked up speed.
Sam’s boots reached the end of the dock.
There was nowhere else to go.
He watched the boat chug away, until there was no sight of Delaney. No sight of the ferry at all.
Secretly Married Page 17
