“But—”
“Why don’t we just take this one step at a time?”
“It’s just that I—”
“You’re not brushing me off, Kat, until you hear me out.”
He braced his arms on the countertop, pinning her between them. Her heart started pounding when her body instinctively responded to his nearness.
“Okay. So, talk,” she whispered, tempted to kiss him. Afraid once she started she wouldn’t be able to stop.
“So, let’s just stay calm and see where this goes, all right? Let’s give it a chance.”
He was scaring the hell out of her now. He didn’t know he was asking for a lot more than a chance. He was asking her to open up to feelings she’d denied for so long that they had probably atrophied by now. He was asking her to tear down the walls around her heart, leave it open and vulnerable, and see what happened.
Damn it, Jake. You got me into this.
But she couldn’t blame Jake for last night. He’d wanted her to date, to get out and test the waters. She’s the one who wanted Ty Chandler in her bed last night. This was all her doing.
“Kat?”
“What?”
“I like being with you. How about we just take this one day at a time?”
One day at a time wouldn’t sound very dangerous if there weren’t hearts at stake. And hers had already taken a beating.
She thought of last night and marveled that they’d come this far already. Maybe it was time. Maybe it was worth investing a few days, a few weeks even. She wasn’t going to be in Twilight Cove forever.
“One day at a time sounds do-able,” she confessed. “Okay.” She hoped she hadn’t lost her mind. What really scared her was that she might lose control of her heart.
Chapter 11
ONE-DAY-AT-A-TIME ended as soon as they got back to Twilight and the new owner of Kamp Kodiak called needing Ty to hold his hand. Ty dropped her off at Jake’s and was on a plane headed for Alaska by evening.
She settled into the damn peace and quiet of the big house on Lover’s Lane again, and her nightmares had settled in, too.
If she fell asleep, she awoke screaming, listening to the echo of her own voice until it faded into the walls. Drenched in sweat, she’d jump out of bed, and turn to Jackie Chan.
When Jackie, Bruce Lee, and Chuck Norris failed, there was always channel surfing.
Mind-numbing infomercials were her new best friends. It was noon on her fifth day back when she realized she was dialing a 1-800 number to order a rotisserie. She never cooked.
Get your ass up, Vargas, and move it. You’re going completely nuts.
Refusing to live in a vegetative state any longer, she dug out her running shorts and shoes. Her hand might still be bandaged, but there was nothing wrong with her feet. She drove down the hill to town, pulled into the public lot near Plaza Park, slipped her cell phone into the pocket of her nylon running shorts, closed the Velcro pocket, and took off.
She circled the park, then ran down the long flight of stairs to the cove below.
The sun was so bright she was squinting behind her sunglasses as she stretched and watched the surfers shred short rides on knee-high waves before she took off again.
Beyond the breakers, sailboats bobbed at anchor, but there were no signs of any fishing boats out to sea.
When her thoughts drifted to Ty again, she became irritated with herself. Maybe time in Alaska had brought him to his senses and he realized he’d spoken in the heat of the moment. Maybe she wouldn’t hear from him again at all. The case was closed. She’d found Sunny. He didn’t need her anymore. She’d go back to the way things were before they met. She didn’t need him.
Things would end just the way she always ended them—nice and neat. No strings attached. No getting in too deep. No making another terrible mistake.
You wouldn’t be feeling this way if you were working.
As she made her way through the soft sand at the edge of the water, she was convinced that it was the peace and quiet, the homey small-town atmosphere that made her feel so isolated, so alone. It was much easier to lose herself in L.A., lose herself in the crowds and fast-paced city life.
Avoiding a piece of driftwood, she headed toward the north end of the cove where tourists explored the rocky point and tide pools exposed by the low tide. Careful not to misstep, she climbed up onto the rocks and rounded the point. Finding herself on another small stretch of cove, she started running again.
Sunlight glittered on the wet sand, a bright spot that drew her attention. She made a U-turn and doubled back, bent over to retrieve a piece of green beach glass. The outgoing tide had churned up the sand. Between the foam that slid in and out on the tide, she collected more glass, frosted bits of milky white, murky green, amber, even a couple of pieces of rare cobalt blue.
She watched them glitter in the palm of her hand, then she shoved them into her pocket and started running again.
She reached the end of the second beach and stopped to take her pulse. She raised her arms high overhead, then stretched her calves. Her cell phone rang.
“Vargas Investigations.”
“Hey, you look great. How was the run?” Ty’s voice sent her heart into overdrive. She kicked the toe of her shoe into the sand and twisted it back and forth.
“How do you know I’m running? Where are you?” She glanced around, half expecting to see him down the beach.
“Look up,” he said.
It wasn’t until then that she realized she was directly below the point where his house was located. She saw him standing on the edge of the bluff, waving his arm over his head.
“I just got back. I’m sorry I didn’t call. Things were hectic.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I got tied up. You know how it is. Time got away from me.”
Justin’s words. Justin’s excuses over and over. She’d fallen for that already?
“Kat?”
“What?”
“Are you all right?”
Walk away. Hang up and run.
That’s the easy way. The safe way. Get out before it’s too late.
She made the mistake of looking at the point again. He was standing on the edge of the bluff, waving his arm over his head. She bit her lips together to keep from smiling.
“Kat, can you hear me?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m not Parker, Kat. I’m not the one who broke your heart.”
“I know.” He already knew her so well he’d known what she was thinking.
“Give me a chance to prove it. Are you hungry?”
A portly man wearing a straw hat and Bermuda shorts with the whitest legs she’d ever seen strolled by and said hello. She was too far away to make out Ty’s features, but she heard the smile in his voice.
She was hungry. “Fish?”
“R.J. just dropped some by.”
“Maybe I’ll reconsider, because of the fish. What time?” A bead of sweat slid down her temple. She swiped at it, calculated how long it would take her to drive back to Jake’s, shower, and change. Way more than the promise of a fish dinner had her anxious to see him again.
“Now.”
She laughed. “I’m sweating like a pua’a.”
“A what-a?”
“A pig. I need to shower and change.”
“I’ve got plenty of hot water. There ought to be something around here you can wear. If worse comes to worse, I’ll yank down a curtain and you can tie it around yourself like that Hawaiian thing you look so damn hot in.”
An image flashed through her mind, the heat in his eyes. It set off an instantaneous ache she couldn’t deny. Besides, she’d never worn a curtain. Scarlett O’Hara had always been one of her idols.
“I’ll run back to
town and get my car. Then I’ll be right there.”
THE MAN HAS AN outdoor shower.
Just when she thought things couldn’t get any better, he led her around the corner of the patio, and there, hidden behind an overgrown schefflera plant and a fuchsia bougainvillea, was a cabana-style shower. Completely private, with hot-and-cold running water, it was open to the sky. She hadn’t showered outdoors since she’d moved to California.
“Take your time,” he told her. “There’s plenty of hot water.” He started to walk away.
“Ty, wait.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out the beach glass, and held out her hand. “For your collection.”
She dropped the pieces into his palm. There were six of them of every color—white, blue, soft green, amber. Ty stared at them a for a second, then met her eyes.
“This means you thought of me at least six times, you know.”
“I guess it does.” The notion that she’d thought of him almost all the time he’d been gone scared the hell out of her.
“I missed you, Kat.”
But you were too busy to call. It was the first thought that popped into her mind. She shut it down, refusing to compare him to Justin. He’d given her no reason not to trust him.
“I missed you, too.” The words came easier than she thought they would, and she realized she meant them. She had missed him.
Ty left her alone while he went to put marinade on the fish.
As she stepped into the shower and stripped off her jogging clothes, she asked herself what there wasn’t to like about him. He was easygoing, loved the outdoors. He appreciated life and had chosen to do what he loved up in Alaska, working at something that gave him satisfaction, not a job he hated just so he could buy bigger toys.
And he could cook.
In many ways, Ty reminded her of her dad—constantly on the move, but at the same time taking things easy. He made enjoying life look simple.
She was rinsing shampoo out of her hair when there came a quick knock from outside. She wiped her eyes, opened them in time to watch the wooden door swing open and Ty step in. When he stripped off his shorts, she got a pretty good idea of what he was there for.
“Do you mind?” He reached around her for the soap.
She answered with a slow smile.
His hands were slick with soap when he touched her. He circled her nipples, pressed his palms against them. Warm water sluiced down her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His soapy hands slid around her, down her spine, over her hips. He cupped her behind, started to lift her to him. Slippery with soap, she laughed when she slid out of his grip. He moved beneath the shower spray, lifted her again, held on tight.
She gasped when he slipped inside her, filled her. They moved beneath the water, connected, complete. Terrifying that it felt so right, so natural, so soon.
Kat urged him on without words, moved against him, took him farther inside her until she could take no more, and finally, she was ready for release, ready to let go.
He came with her, and when it was over they were both breathless.
She slid down his legs until they were separate entities again. Her toes hit the wet brick, her feet were finally on the ground, but she was still halfway between the earth and the sky, floating amid the stardust of release.
She wasn’t sure where she was or what she was doing anymore, and for this one moment, she tried not to care.
He grabbed her chin, tilted her face to his, gave her such a loud, smacking kiss that she giggled.
“I put some clothes on the bed that might work for you. Upstairs, first door on the left. Help yourself to whatever you need in the bathroom. I’ll finish up here and meet you inside.”
Reaching out of the stream of water, he handed her a huge, fresh bath towel and then reached for the soap. Tempted to offer to help, she stopped herself. She could get way too used to this. All of it.
She wrapped herself in the towel, scooped up her running clothes, and hurried across the patio to the back door.
TY WAS STILL dripping, wearing a towel slung low around his hips, when he walked through the back door and into the kitchen.
He stopped at the sink, filled a glass with water, swallowed it in four long gulps. He set down the glass and braced his hands against the edge of the tile countertop.
The ceiling above him creaked beneath Kat’s steps, and then he heard the hair dryer go on. He liked knowing she was up there, in his house. He’d missed her like crazy in Alaska, so much so that he begrudged every minute of his time away from her and had worked like a dog to get things accomplished so that he could get back.
He was falling fast, but she made it so damn easy. He wanted her physically, and more than that, he wanted to be with her. But it was impossible to tell what she was feeling or thinking. He had no idea how to go about getting her to trust him.
Before he could think things through, the doorbell rang.
He made sure the knot in the towel was tight, then called Kat’s name, hoping she was dressed. He walked to the archway between the living and dining rooms and stared at the front door. Upstairs, the hair dryer was still running.
The bell rang again. He crossed the room, looked through the porthole to see who was there, and nearly had a heart attack when he realized Sunny was on the other side, looking back at him.
She’s here. She’s home.
And I’m wrapped in a damn bath towel, dripping on the hardwood floor.
He opened the door. Both of their mouths fell open at once when she realized he was half-naked and he realized she was holding the toddler he’d seen at the Hollywood apartment.
“Hi.” Sunny recovered first. “You said I could come visit. Here we are.”
“So I see.” He couldn’t help staring at the toddler as the little girl coyly laid her head on Sunny’s shoulder and tried to shove all the fingers of one hand in her mouth. With her other hand, she clutched a small, plush skunk to her chest. Her hair was strawberry blond, her eyes huge, and curious. She was wearing new denim overalls and a bright-red knit shirt beneath an open pink sweatshirt.
Sunny, on the other hand, was wearing a black spandex skirt that barely covered what ought to be covered, and a thin, dark purple top that showed off her midriff and pierced belly button. Her eyes were outlined with black liner, her vibrant hair looked as if she didn’t own a brush. A huge plastic purse with disposable diapers sticking up over the top dangled from her left shoulder.
“This is French Fry,” Sunny said, jiggling the little girl up and down.
Ty thought maybe he had gotten water in his ears. “Did you say Francine or Frenchie?”
Sunny rolled her eyes. “French Fry. Her real name’s Alice. And by the way, you’re her grandpa.” With that she stepped past him and walked into the house.
“Watch the water.” Afraid she’d slip, he saw his caution fell on deaf ears. She was already in the middle of the room looking around at the flotsam and jetsam displayed on the walls.
“Is this an antiques shop or something?”
“No. Just a family collection of odds and ends.”
Family that she is a part of now.
His gaze shot to the toddler, who hadn’t taken her eyes off him yet. Sunny was family, and so, it seemed, was . . . French Fry?
Sunny’s gaze drifted to the stairs. Ty’s followed, and there was Kat, standing in the middle of the staircase wearing his faded “My Girlfriend Said She’d Leave Me If I Go Fishing Again” T-shirt, and what appeared to be nothing else.
Though the T-shirt came to her knees and Sunny’s spandex skirt was far more revealing, Kat looked undeniably tousled and sexy. She was eyeing the toddler in Sunny’s arms.
“Kat, you remember Sunny,” he fumbled.
“Of course.” Kat half smiled and stayed right where she wa
s.
Ty felt like an idiot clutching the towel, grinning from ear to ear, but he couldn’t stop.
Kat didn’t move. He noticed her hand had tightened around the handrail. She looked as shocked as he felt.
“Looks like you can call me Grampa,” he joked as he ran his hand through his hair. He’d remember this moment for as long as he lived.
“I . . . I’ll be right back.” Kat hesitated a second longer, looked at him, then Sunny, then Alice before she turned and hurried back up the stairs.
Sunny was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He glanced out the open front door. “Did you bring a bag?”
She indicated the huge striped vinyl purse over her arm with a shrug. “This is it.”
He closed the door. When he walked up beside Sunny, the child in her arms smiled at him and then tentatively offered him her stuffed skunk. His heart melted into a puddle of mush.
“That’s Stinko,” Sunny said.
“Hi, Stinko.” He had no idea what else to say. It had been enough of a shock to find out about Sunny, let alone have her show up without warning with a child of her own.
He looked at the baby again and murmured, “Alice.”
“For Alice in Wonderland.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventeen months.”
He thought of that day in the apartment and how he’d assumed the child belonged to the other girl.
“I had no idea she was yours.”
Sunny shrugged. “Why would you? I didn’t say anything because I figured it was none of your business.”
“You’re right.” He wondered if the other shoe was about to drop. “What about her father?”
“What about him?”
“Where is he? Did he come with you?”
“He’s . . . out of the picture.”
Her eyes had grown bright, her expression closed. He could tell by her tone she didn’t want to talk about Alice’s father, and he decided on the spot that this wasn’t the time to question her. She was barely through the door and still sizing up the situation herself. He figured the best thing to do would be to back off, to take it slow.
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