ShatteredTrust_w5401

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  He pushed off the bed, snatched the pillow and strode to the door. In the hall, he came face to face with Marley in a navy blue terry-cloth robe and bare feet.

  He stared at her freshly scrubbed, glowing face, her wet, sexy-as-hell hair tumbling wildly over her shoulders, and wondered what she was—or wasn’t—wearing underneath that robe.

  “What?” she asked when he continued to stand there without saying a word.

  “Nothing.”

  She pulled her bedroom door closed behind her and headed down the hall.

  “Shouldn’t you go to bed?” he asked.

  Without pausing, she tossed over her shoulder, “What are you, my father?”

  Thank God, no. He watched the sway of her hips in front of him. “It’s after midnight,” he pointed out, making an effort to focus his gaze elsewhere as desire began to stir things best left alone. “You should get some rest. There’s a lot to do in the morning.”

  “I’m too keyed up to sleep.”

  In the kitchen, she reached to flip on the light over the stove, then took a mug from the cupboard and filled it at the sink from what he assumed was a hot water dispenser. After she selected a tea bag, she cast him a glance from under her lashes while leaning a hip against the counter.

  “Don’t let me keep you up.”

  After a look like that, sultry and innocent all rolled up in one, he was up no matter what. He shifted his weight, and the pillow, and shrugged. Her attention lowered to the pillow with a frown.

  “What’s that for—protection?”

  He grinned even though she’d infused the question with derision. First, because currently, that’s exactly what he used it for, and second, he imagined himself beating an intruder with the feather-filled rectangle.

  “I know,” he said. “Not the Wade Family weapon of choice.”

  Her lips thinned and her jaw tightened before she turned away to reach for a plastic bear with a pointy head.

  “I was kidding.”

  Honey streamed into her mug as she stirred the tea without a word. Then she plunked the little bear down, picked up her mug, and swept past him toward the living room. After a few steps, she swung around.

  “Quit following me! You’re making me nervous.”

  “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

  Her gaze dropped to the pillow again. “What’s wrong with Nate’s bed?”

  “Nothing. But it makes more sense for me to be on the couch if anything happens.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.” She resumed her trek to the living room as if everything in her life was perfectly calm and normal.

  “Nate was worried,” he reminded her.

  “I have protection.”

  He tossed the pillow onto the couch as she faced him from the other side of the coffee table. “Right, and I’m more effective out here, without doors separating us.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I meant my gun.”

  Ignoring the jab to his ego, he said, “A lot of good it’ll do you, way out here in the closet.”

  Mug in one hand, she placed the other on her hip. “I moved it.”

  “About time.”

  She shook her head and started for the patio doors. “Seriously, take the bed. You’ll be much more comfortable.”

  Justin eyed the short couch and already felt the crick that was sure to be in his neck in the morning. She might be right, but damned if he’d move back now and admit it. Besides, then it’d be like she was protecting him with that damn gun of hers. The pillow stayed on the couch.

  Outside on the patio, she’d arranged wood into a teepee in the small, built-in fire pit.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Campfires relax me.”

  Un-friggin-believable. “Marley, it’s prime intruder hours and here you are, offering yourself up on a silver platter. Did you not hear your brother in the hospital room?”

  “I heard him.”

  “What if he wasn’t alone at the job? What if it wasn’t an accident? I saw the look on his face—he was really worried.”

  “You said that already,” she snapped as she straightened. “I know. I saw his face, too. But I can’t just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark thinking about all this, imagining every little noise I hear is someone coming to get me. That would scare me.”

  Abruptly, she turned away and started wadding newspaper into tight, tiny balls. So that was the problem…she wasn’t as cool as she appeared. He realized he wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her himself. That’s why he’d come in the first place, and why he didn’t just leave her with her gun.

  Instead of arguing further, he settled onto one of the reclining patio chairs arranged close to the fire pit. Once the flames caught hold of the wood, she picked up her mug and turned around. Seeing him relaxed in the chair, she pulled up short.

  “What are you, a self-appointed bodyguard?”

  “Something like that.”

  She regarded him for a long moment, then sat on the other recliner and swung her bare feet up onto the footrest. “I quit the second time, remember? Guilt doesn’t stretch that far.”

  “What do you know about guilt?” he retorted before he thought it out enough to control the bitterness in his voice. From the corner of his eye, he saw her head swivel in his direction and felt her gaze.

  “Enough to know you don’t belong here because of it.”

  He met her gaze and called her raise. “I like you. That a good enough reason for you?”

  The rosy shower-glow on her cheeks brightened considerably, but she didn’t say anything as she looked away from him toward the fire. He studied her profile before turning his attention back to the flames as well. Damn. What should’ve been a simple line of deflection had spiked his pulse, making it feel more like an admission.

  “I suppose I should offer you some tea…or something,” she said, her tone less confrontational than before.

  “I don’t drink tea,” he said with an appropriate amount of disgust.

  “Ever try it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Here.”

  She held out her mug to him. He deliberately placed his hand over hers as he took the ceramic cup from her. Her skin was soft and warm and he didn’t want to break the contact. She pulled away first, but not overly fast.

  Raising the mug, he turned it so he could put his mouth where he’d seen her drink. Desire shot though him with the absurd notion that the warmth that met his lips was from her mouth, not the hot liquid inside the cup.

  He took a drink and choked. Handing it back with a hoarse cough, he said, “Have a little tea with your honey, do you?”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  He loudly cleared his throat to get rid of the lingering tickle and she smiled.

  “I take it you don’t want any?”

  “Yeah, no thanks,” he assured her.

  “Do you want anything else?”

  Oh, sure, he wanted plenty. What would she say to that? He declined the offer of a drink and tried to keep his attention on the fire as his imagination started on a little road trip. It began at the tips of her bare toes, slid up the delicate arch of her foot and along the curve of her calf to…the terry cloth robe.

  What did she have on under there? She hadn’t even spent a minute in her room before he’d run into her in the hall. Not enough time to dress and put the robe back on. His pulse kicked up. He closed his eyes so his imagination could wander further, over her knee, across the soft silkiness of her thi—

  “Did you hear that?”

  He snapped his eyes open to see her peering into the darkness beyond the fire. He stared hard, straining to catch a sound, however faint. Unfortunately, he didn’t hear anything beyond his overactive libido slamming the gearshift into second.

  He looked back and saw the gun in her hand, partially hidden along the folds of her robe. “Shit, Marley,” he exclaimed in a hushed tone. “I didn’t know you had that thing on you.”


  She lifted her mug for a sip of tea. “Where’d you think it was?”

  “I don’t know—in a drawer somewhere.”

  “And how would that be any more effective than in the closet?” she inquired with raised eyebrows.

  “You plan on sleeping with it, too?”

  “Under my pillow.”

  Her matter of fact statement did something to him—it just happened to be the exact opposite of what he expected. Damn if he didn’t find her sleeping with a gun under her pillow seductive. Whether the aura of danger, or her level of confidence with the gun turned him on, he shifted into third pretty darn fast.

  “Do guns make you nervous?” she asked.

  His heart pounded as if the weapon were pointed straight at him. “Considering recent events, would that be so surprising?”

  “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

  The fire snapped. A spray of glowing sparks skittered across the cement near Marley’s chair. She jerked her feet away.

  Justin sat up fast. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, nothing hit me.”

  Her robe had fallen partially open, revealing a lengthy expanse of one bare leg. Justin tore his gaze away to look at her face. “You really shouldn’t be out here in bare feet.”

  She shrugged.

  “What is it with you and shoes anyway?” he asked.

  Her gaze swung to his. “What do you mean?”

  “You used to run into work at the job site without them—not exactly smart and completely against code, I might add—and you kicked them off every chance you got at the office.” He lifted his brows and waited.

  “So I don’t like to wear shoes. Big deal.”

  “No big deal.” He glanced down at her feet. “In fact, they’re quite nice.” His gaze slid back up along the length of her body as he added in a low tone, “Like the rest of you.”

  She blushed again, and he waited with anticipation for her response to that.

  “What’s the deal you and guilt?”

  He stiffened at her abrupt, obvious change of subject. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake off the flood of images that hit him at the mere mention of the word and fought to keep his expression impassive. Her face softened in the firelight. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Obviously he hadn’t been successful. He forced a smile and grabbed the first subject he could think of. “I would, however, I’m having a hard time thinking of anything but what you might not be wearing under that robe.” It was half true, anyway.

  Her jaw tightened even though he’d swear he saw a flicker of awareness in her eyes. “Get serious.”

  “You don’t think I’m serious?”

  She set her mug aside and stood between the chairs. The gun disappeared back in the pocket of her robe. Her slow, seductive smile threw him off balance. When she reached for the sash and began to pull the knot loose, Justin swallowed hard. He’d been trying to divert her attention good and far from the previous subject, but he hadn’t expected this.

  “Come on now, what are you doing?” He gave a half smile of his own and rose to his feet.

  “You wanted to know.”

  “Well, yeah, but not right here.” He glanced around, only to look back and discover she’d opened the robe already. “Mar—”

  He caught sight of a plain white tank top and grey cotton boy shorts. Not quite what he’d imagined, but considering she wasn’t wearing a bra and the material clung to her curves, he was far from disappointed.

  Hands on her hips, she regarded him with raised eyebrows. “You didn’t really think I’d come outside without anything on under here, did you?”

  He grinned. “A guy can hope, can’t he?” He reached forward, slid his palm around her hip to the small of her back, and drew her against him. The tremor that ran through her body triggered an answering surge of desire in his. “Let’s go inside.”

  “You’re good, I’ll give you that.”

  He didn’t like the serious look in her eyes. “I’ve barely even started,” he drawled, closing the distance between their lips.

  She drew back slightly. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

  He kept his body from stiffening in protest by focusing on the feel of her hips against his. “Talking is over-rated.”

  “Most of the time, I’d agree with you. But some things need to be—”

  With a gentle jerk, he pulled her tight against him to cover her mouth with his. Her lips parted in surprise, giving him instant access to the soft, hot recess beyond. He got another taste of honey as she slid her tongue against his, only this time he savored it and went back for more.

  In the middle of the kiss, images began to surface in his mind. With each one, his guilt rose until it completely took over desire. He gripped the firm flesh of her upper arms and set her away from him.

  “Damn it, Marley. Couldn’t just let me change the subject, could you?”

  He paced away from the fire and stared out into the dark, fists clenched at his sides. “Couldn’t just let the damn thing alone.”

  Not a single night sound made it through the roaring in his head. He wished she’d say something, anything, so he could lash out and release the emotions seething inside him. It was as if she’d poked a caged beast with a sharp stick and now the damn animal refused to lie back down.

  She didn’t say a word. She just stood there by the fire, waiting for him to spill his guts. He glanced over and, amazingly, felt the tightness around his chest ease.

  “It was an accident.”

  Marley had to strain to hear his low voice.

  Then he gave a sharp, humorless snort. “God, I hate that word.”

  Afraid he’d clam up, she kept completely still as he paced back to the chairs. He motioned for her to sit before lowering himself to the end of his lounger, elbows braced on his knees. She watched his fire-lit profile as he clasped his hands firmly together, released, and clasped them again.

  “I was working at Hunter during the summer while going to college, getting practical experience for after graduation.”

  She nodded even though he didn’t look in her direction.

  “I’d trained on most of the machines already, but the last was the bulldozer. I wanted to learn everything I could, as fast as I could, and I was cocky because I was good at all of it.”

  He stared into the fire and she noticed his knuckles whiten.

  “I wasn’t supposed to operate the dozer that day…the foreman had me assigned to the dump truck, but then the regular dozer guy didn’t show up. Greg Johnson. I figured I knew what had to be done as well as anyone, so I jumped on up. I didn’t get more than a couple haphazard swaths cleared before the foreman came over, yelling and cursing that just because I was the owner’s grandson didn’t mean I could do whatever I wanted and to get my ass off the machine. I saw Greg parking his truck, so I left the machine running, put on the parking brake, and climbed down.”

  He fell silent. Deep frown lines carved into his brow.

  “I’ve been over it in my head a million times, and I just keep thinking that if only I’d waited…if only I hadn’t been such a cocky, know-it-all, bastard…”

  She heard him swallow hard before he spoke again.

  “Greg’s boot caught on a root as he walked in front of the dozer, but before he could move, the machine suddenly jerked into gear and started forward. None of us could get there in time, and Greg—”

  Justin’s eyes squeezed shut as his emotion-roughened voice broke. “He lasted a day in intensive care before he died.”

  Head hung low, he drew a deep, shuddering breath. Marley shifted over to his chair and sat just behind him. She slid her arms around his waist, pressing against his back as she laid her cheek on his shoulder. Tears clogged her throat. “It was a freak accident.”

  “An accident.” He reached a hand to wipe his eyes. His gaze remained focused on the fire. “They found the brake cable was faulty, but—”

  “How can you blame yourself then
?”

  “If I’d done the job I was supposed to do and left the dozer alone, it wouldn’t have been running when he walked in front of it.”

  She hugged him tighter, shaking her head against his back. “Justin, it wasn’t your fault. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

  “I know that in my mind, but my heart won’t accept it. I still feel responsible.”

  She didn’t know what to say other than to repeat that it wasn’t his fault. After a few minutes, he shifted free of her arms. Before she could return to her own chair, he slid back and pulled her with him. She hesitated, then gave in and relaxed against his chest, leaning her head on his shoulder. His arms held her close, crossed over her ribs, just below her breasts.

  “I’m sorry I pushed,” she said softly. “If I’d had any clue—”

  “I’ve never told anyone. Not even Jordan.”

  Her heart swelled, the emotion inside her chest almost painful. A log shifted on the fire, dropping into the pile of coals that glowed reddish-orange. A spray of embers shot toward the night sky.

  The silence between them stretched, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable as night crickets, rustling leaves, and the occasional snap and crackle of the fire filled the void. Marley stroked the back of his hand, lightly playing with the golden hairs sprinkled across his skin. His fingers splayed over her ribs, the width of his hand large enough that his thumb brushed the underside of her breast through her tank top, while his pinkie finger almost reached her waist.

  She closed her eyes as a wave of contentment washed over her. She could happily stay like this with him forever. Thoughts of Nate and Karl and Dale tried to intrude, but she pushed them away to concentrate on the feel of Justin’s body enveloping her in its warmth.

  She drew in a deep breath, and as his subtle scent filled her senses, she decided just this once she could be selfish. She would enjoy the moment and worry about life’s sobering complications later.

  When her eyelids drooped a few minutes later, she didn’t fight sleep. Instead she snuggled deeper into his embrace and gave in to the exhaustion.

  “Marley?” His voice rumbled through her body.