Lindsay glanced over her shoulder at the house. “Um, my mom didn’t sleep very good last night. Did you guys have a fight over me?”
“Not exactly. It started out being about you, but it was really about a lot of other things.”
“Oh.” She shoved her hands into her shorts’ pockets. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I didn’t mean to upset things.”
“You didn’t.” He touched her cheek. “Your mom and I have had some problems from the start. You didn’t have anything to do with them. We just have different ways of looking at things.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t get along. Unless you don’t really, you know, love her.”
His gaze narrowed. “Why are you asking me that?”
She blushed. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought if you cared, you could work it out.”
Sound advice, only he wasn’t the one with the problem. Sandy had thrown him out and said she didn’t want to have him in her life. He’d been willing to marry her. That was the hell of it. He was still willing to marry her.
“Loving someone isn’t always enough. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true.”
Lindsay brightened. “So you do love her?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Great!”
“Why all these questions?”
“Oh, no reason. No reason at all.” But her smile was a little too wide and she couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eye.
“What have you got planned, young lady?”
“Nothing.” She raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “You’re the greatest, Kyle. I know you’re not my dad, and I’ll always miss him, but I’m sure glad you’re around.” She started to walk away, then glanced back at him. “Moms can make mistakes, too, you know. Sometimes they even figure it out, but then they have to apologize and they don’t do that real well.”
He froze in place. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” She took off running toward the house.
Kyle wanted to race after her and demand she tell him what was going on. But by the time his stunned brain got the message to his feet, she’d already disappeared inside.
Moms can make mistakes, too, you know. Did that mean what he thought it meant, or was this just another case of wishful thinking? Had Sandy realized he meant what he said? Did she believe that he loved her?
Before he could figure out the answer, Blake came walking around from the rear of his house. “I was at Robby’s,” the boy said. “I’m going to try out for pitcher next year.”
“Great,” Kyle said, still thinking about what Lindsay had told him.
“We had a family meeting today,” Blake said. “We talked about you, but Lindsay says I’m not supposed to say anything.”
“What?” Kyle stared at the boy. “What aren’t you supposed to say?”
Blake shrugged, then grinned. “But I wouldn’t mind if you married my mom.”
Like his sister, he went running off. Kyle stared after him. Hope blossomed inside, like a dormant seed brought to life. He told himself he was a fool, and that he was heading for another fall. But he didn’t care. If Sandy had called a family meeting and discussed him, then she couldn’t want him completely out of their lives. Unless the meeting had been to tell the children that. But if that were the case, why would the kids seem so happy?
He tossed the chamois down and started toward her house. He was going to get some answers. When he got closer, he realized Nichole was playing with her doll on the porch, in the shade of a crepe myrtle tree.
“Hi, Kyle,” she said as he approached.
“Hi, yourself. Where’s your mom?”
“She’s in the shower.” Nichole giggled. “We painted our fingers. Look!” She held up her hand. The nails had been painted bright pink.
“They’re very pretty,” he said, trying to hide his impatience. If Sandy was in the shower, he couldn’t just go barging in, although the thought of her naked and dripping wet was quite appealing. If nothing else, he wouldn’t mind having the upper hand with her for once.
“Could you tell your mom that I—” That he what?
He thought about waiting until Sandy was finished, then remembered what Lindsay had said. That Sandy wanted to apologize, but that it might be difficult for her. He should give her the time she needed. Better for both of them if she came to him. Not only would he know for sure that she really wanted him, but his ego could use a little TLC after the way she’d run him off.
Nichole waited patiently.
“Don’t tell her anything,” he said. “I’ll tell her myself, when I see her.”
“Okay.” Nichole returned her attention to her doll, then glanced up at him. “Lindsay says you’re going to be our new daddy and I’m glad.”
“She said that?”
“This morning. After our meeting. They’re not going to do stars anymore, but I want to.”
“Huh?”
He heard a sound from inside the house. Now more than ever he wanted to confront Sandy. Yet he knew it would be better if everything happened on her terms. He would have to practice patience.
“I gotta run, Nichole. See you soon.”
“Bye.”
He hurried back to his place and collected the bucket and chamois. After storing everything and coiling the hose neatly, he went inside and started pacing. How much longer?
By two that afternoon, he was ready to go crazy. What if the kids had been wrong? Was he wishing for a dream? Was Sandy only a fantasy, someone he would always want but never be in a relationship with? The waiting was getting to him. If he walked the living room one more time, he was going to wear a path through the rug.
“Enough of this,” he growled, and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from the hall. A drive would clear his mind. He would leave a note on the door, in case Sandy came by.
He wrote it quickly, then crossed the kitchen floor and jerked open the back door. Sandy stood there, with her hand raised, ready to knock.
“Kyle,” she said, surprised. “Hi.”
He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. God, she was beautiful. She’d put on a white gauzy dress with narrow straps and a full skirt. Her legs were bare, as were her arms. She wore makeup, which was unusual. So was the way her hands kept twisting together over and over again. Sandy was nervous.
In his gut, the pain he’d felt since she’d thrown him out last night faded. The band around his chest loosened and his heart rate increased.
“Were you going somewhere?” she asked, pointing at the helmet.
“What? Oh, no.” He placed it on the counter, then stepped outside next to her. “I was thinking about taking a ride, but it can wait. What’s up?”
He didn’t want to hope, but he couldn’t help himself. She was here. She’d obviously planned what to wear, maybe even what to say. The air around them grew still, as if even the plants and animals wanted to listen.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said slowly. “First, I want to apologize for last night. I didn’t want to listen to what you were saying, mostly because I knew you were right. I have been afraid emotionally, and I’ve been using my ideals of the perfect man to keep people from getting too close.”
“People?” he asked.
“Men.” She swallowed, then looked up at him. “You, specifically.” Her eyes were wide and expressive. He could see her concern, her apprehension, and something else. Something wonderfully warm and welcoming. Something that, had he been less cautious, he might have labeled as love.
“You were right about Lindsay,” she said. “About everything, really. All the children, me. I did have these preconceived ideas about your life and what you wanted in a woman. I couldn’t believe you were interested in someone like me. I’m not special.”
The hope inside grew until he couldn’t deny it. He’d never been able to deny her anything. “You’re perfect,” he said, touching her cheek.
She turned her head into his caress and smiled. “Far from perfect, Ky
le. You were right about Thomas—I could have done better in my marriage. I’m bossy and opinionated. I tend to jump to conclusions. My feelings scare me and I hide behind my specific ways of doing things. I make rules because I believe rules make my world safe. But they don’t. They keep me from what is really important. I care about you.”
She paused and drew in a breath. He dropped his hand back to his side. And waited.
“This is harder than I thought,” she admitted. “You were much easier to talk to when I practiced in front of my bedroom mirror.”
“It’s not so bad,” he said. “Just start at the beginning. Tell me that you love me.”
She took a step toward him. Her skirt brushed against his jeans. He could hear the whisper of fabric. She reached for both his hands and held them tight. Their gazes locked.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Tell me you want to be with me always.”
“I want to be with you.” She smiled. “Forever.”
Now it was his turn to get nervous. He brought her right hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. Her breathing increased slightly as she swayed toward him.
“Tell me—” He cleared his throat. “Tell me that you want to marry me.”
“Will you marry me?” she asked.
“Yes.” He swept her up in his arms. “Oh, Sandy, today, tomorrow, whenever you say.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Tomorrow sounds lovely.”
“I love you,” he said.
“I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” she told him. “Can you forgive me for being a fool?”
“Of course. I should have handled the situation with Lindsay better,” he said. “You had every right to be mad at me.”
“No, I didn’t. You were the one who was right. I reacted like a fool. I was scared about how I felt about you. I wanted you to be irresponsible so I wouldn’t have to love you, but you kept doing the right thing.”
“I’m glad,” he murmured, bending his head toward her. “I’ve waited over half my life for this.”
“You don’t have to wait any longer,” she promised. “I’m here. For always.”
“Is he ever gonna kiss her?” Blake asked.
“It doesn’t look like it,” Lindsay answered. “I didn’t know grown-ups talked this much.”
Kyle turned slightly and saw three faces peering up at them from the bushes next to his house.
Sandy giggled. “They must have followed me.”
“Figures,” he said. “We might as well give them what they want.”
“Please,” she said, reaching toward him.
As he brought his mouth to hers, he squeezed her tightly against him. Sandy felt right in his arms. As if she’d always belonged there.
“When can I tell them I want a baby sister?” Nichole asked.
“Not now,” Lindsay said. “Hush. They’re finally kissing. This is the good part.”
* * * * *
Part Three
Chapter One
“You need to get out of town,” Captain Rodriguez said.
Nick Archer leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temple. “You think I don’t know that? Easier said than done.”
He was lying. Leaving wasn’t so hard. He’d done it a million times. He just left. What held him back this time was the fact that he couldn’t think of a single place to go. Hell of a situation for a man to find himself in.
Rodriguez turned toward his computer terminal and touched a few buttons. “They’re getting closer, Nick. If they blow your cover, you’re dead in less than four hours. Southport Beach is too small to keep you safe. Leave the city. Leave Southern California.”
“Yeah, I will.” Just as soon as he figured out where he was going. May was a nice month just about anywhere. Maybe Vegas. He could get real lost there and not surface for days. “I’ll let you know when I get there,” he continued. “And I’ll make sure I’m close to a phone.”
“Good idea,” the captain said. Concern drew his mouth straight. “You’ve risked it all for this assignment, Nick. Just give it a few more days. A couple of weeks at most. By then the Feds will have what they need and we can issue the arrest warrants. By the end of the month, you’ll be back at the Santa Barbara Police Department.”
“Great.”
Nick had been undercover for over a year. It was difficult to imagine returning to Santa Barbara and picking up the threads of his life. After a year, how much of a life would he have to pick up?
He stood and walked to the door. When he pulled it open, the captain frowned and said in a voice loud enough to carry, “If you want Pentleman out of jail, you’re going to have to spring for bail. This time, we’re not cutting a deal.”
Pentleman was a small-time crook picked up for robbery earlier this morning. He was one of Nick’s “employees” and had given him an excuse to come to the station and talk to Rodriguez. Only his captain back in Santa Barbara, Rodriguez here in Southport Beach and the FBI agent coordinating the sting knew Nick’s real identity. The rest of the world considered him a successful criminal.
Nick gave the captain a mock salute and headed for the front desk. He would make Pentleman’s bail, then leave town. The issue of where to go nagged at him until he saw Hannah Pace coming off her shift. She spoke to the young officer taking her place at the communications console. As she turned to step into the corridor, she spotted Nick. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance.
Nick jogged the last couple of steps to catch up with her. She was tall, nearly five-ten, with long legs and an awkward grace that made him think about foals loping through pastures. At six foot four, he could easily match her stride, which he did. She ignored him. It was a ritual between them. One he enjoyed more than he wanted to admit.
“Hey, beautiful, you off work?”
“Obviously.” The single word was clipped.
She didn’t look at him, not even when he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. She simply grabbed his wrist and let it fall behind her. Nick took advantage of the position to pat her curvy rear. That earned him a quick glare.
“I’m armed,” she said, heading for the side door and the officers’ parking lot. “And I’m not afraid to use it on low-life scum like you.”
“Hannah, you’ve got me all wrong. I respect you.”
“Yeah, right. What does that mean? You don’t expect to pay for sex with me?”
He winced audibly and pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m deeply wounded.”
She pulled open the door and stepped outside. Warm air, smelling of sea and sunshine, enveloped them. The sky was clear and California blue. If he’d bothered glancing out at the ocean, he would have been able to see all the way to Catalina. But he doubted any view was lovelier than the woman in front of him.
Hannah paused, inhaled deeply and stared up at him. Her eyes were big and brown, the color of milk chocolate. He’d always had a thing for chocolate. Apparently, he also had a thing for women in uniform, although he hadn’t realized that until he’d seen Hannah in hers. There was something about a sensibly cut garment hugging the female form that got his blood hot and his body bothered. Only it wasn’t just any female form; it was very specifically Hannah’s.
“What do you want, Nick?”
The defensiveness was gone. She sounded tired. He looked closer and saw shadows under her eyes. Thick, shiny, dark hair had been pulled back into a prim bun. Not even one tendril escaped to taunt him. Yet the thought of releasing her heavy hair, of running his fingers through the loose strands, made his fingers itch.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said and gave her his best grin. It usually worked. He’d used it on countless women before and had been successful enough to make his friends grumble. The only person who seemed immune was Hannah. For a year she’d ignored his teasing, his compliments, his lines and his invitations. He suspected she viewed him as a life-form only slightly higher than a cockroach.
She stared at him a long time. “You don’t give u
p, do you?”
His grin turned wicked. “On you? Never.”
“Why? What is so appealing about me?”
Her question caught him off guard. Normally she just rolled her eyes and kept on walking.
“I like how you keep your desk organized. All those piles are always tidy.”
She shook her head. “Just as I thought. You’re nothing more than a schoolboy defying authority.”
Before she could leave, he placed his hand on her forearm. Her uniform had short sleeves, and he could feel the warmth of her skin and the slight tremor that rippled through her.
“It’s more than that, Hannah.” He leaned close and, with his free hand, touched his index finger to the corner of her mouth. “I like how your lips always turn up a little, even when you’re mad. Like now.”
She stepped back and pulled her arm free of his touch. “I’m not mad, I’m impatient.”
“Impatient?” He raised an eyebrow. “I like that. Impatient. Could a little of that impatience be because you’re tempted?”
“Oh, grow up,” she said and headed toward the parking lot.
“I’ve been a man a long time, Hannah Pace. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, because I’ve caught you looking.”
That made her stumble. She spun toward him. “I’ve never looked.”
He moved closer and lowered his voice. “Sure you have.
Lots of times. You think I’m a good-looking charmer.”
“I think you’re a thief and a swindler and Lord knows what else.”
He stared down at her flashing dark eyes. “I knew you’d been thinking about me.”
“Damn,” she muttered, then drew in a long breath. “How do you always win?”
“Because you think I’m teasing, but I’m telling the truth.”
Amazingly enough, he was. He meant every word he said to her. He did think she was beautiful and funny and smart and all the other lines he’d spoken over the past year. Hannah would never believe him, which made them safe to say. Sometimes, though, he wondered what the cool, self-contained lady would think if she knew his attraction was surprisingly genuine.
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