Shattered Blue: A Romantic Thriller

by Jane Taylor Starwood

Shane pushed her plate back and wiped a smear of chile from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. Matt was watching her so keenly that she imagined him licking it off. She felt her face growing warm. Nope. Dangerous territory. She cleared her throat and pulled her thoughts back to the subject at hand.

  “After the trial, I had to get out of the city. Every time I left my apartment—” she stopped, looked away. “I don’t want to go there right now.”

  “So don’t. You left New York. Did you come here right away?”

  She shook her head. “I’d never even heard of Silver City or the Mimbres Valley. I only knew New Mexico as one of the states we passed through on the way from San Diego to Texas to visit family. He always wanted to drive, not fly. He wanted me to see the country. It was fun. He had this way of making everything fun.”

  Shane went quiet. Matt saw the old sorrow in her eyes and his heart ached for her. He recognized that sorrow, the kind that never truly went away, only softened a little around the edges.

  “Anyway,” Shane went on, “when I left New York, I went back to San Diego. I was born there and raised there until my mom married Ray when I was eight. I even went to college there. I thought I could go back, make a fresh start in familiar surroundings.” She grimaced.

  “My mistake,” Shane said. “The whole story was still too fresh, angry investors still coming out of the woodwork, hyped reports still on the nightly news. My stepdad and stepbrother in that awful perp walk, being mobbed by people on the street. I thought they were going to kill them before they even got to trial.”

  She paused, sipped her beer. Then her mouth twisted in a hybrid of anger and disgust. “By the time I got to San Diego, that ridiculous rumor had taken hold, that insane fairy tale that Ray had passed the missing millions to me and I had it stashed away somewhere. Lucky for me, the grand jury saw through it as nonsense. Eventually.”

  She laughed briefly and the bitter edge in it aroused a protective anger Matt fought to hide.

  “Does it look like I’ve got millions?” Shane asked, gesturing to encompass everything around her. “Before my new weavings started selling, I cleaned other people’s houses. I had some money from savings and my mother’s life insurance when I got here, but most of that went into this place.”

  “Jenna said the feds even took your jewelry.”

  “Yes, everything I left in the Sutton Place apartment, including a couple of heirloom pieces from my father’s family. They weren’t that valuable, but they meant the world to me.”

  “Couldn’t you fight them?”

  “I guess I could have, but by that time, I didn’t have much fight left in me. I’m sure they’re sold and long gone by now.”

  Her eyes took on a faraway look and Matt thought about her mother, dying of cancer while the courts swooped down and took nearly everything they owned. He was about to go to her, hold her, when she straightened her spine and continued.

  “I was on my own by then, but Ray had insisted on buying me an apartment, so they took that, too. There was nothing left for me in the city, nothing but reporters and cameras and bad memories around every corner. I can’t count how many times my picture was in the Post or the Daily News, always holding up a hand to shield my face. I guess that only made me look guilty, but damn it, I hated those cameras in my face. They made me into some kind of twisted celebrity: up-and-coming young artist gone bad.”

  If there’d been a paparazzo in the vicinity, Matt would have decked him.

  “So you went to San Diego,” he prompted, “but the media chased you out again. Is that when you came to New Mexico?”

  “No. Next I tried Seattle, a place I’d never been. I liked it there, in spite of the gloomy weather. Or maybe because of it. It suited my mood. Anyway, it didn’t take my past long to catch up with me. Within a couple of months, no matter that I refused all interviews, I was Seattle’s poster girl for the wayward rich.”

  “Shit. Why couldn’t they just leave you alone?” But he knew the answer to that as well as she did: She was fair game in the media’s feeding frenzy.

  “The day after I saw myself on the local news, walking out of my neighborhood coffee shop under a voiceover about the ‘Ripley scandal mystery woman,’ I broke the lease on my apartment, packed my car and drove away. I drove for days, staying overnight at motels, living out of a suitcase. I went where the road took me, sometimes on an interstate, sometimes on back roads.”

  She drained her beer, set the bottle on the table and stared into empty space, her eyes troubled. Matt watched her, hurting for her, hardly able to stand it. He needed to do something, needed to move. He stood, went to the fridge, got two more Dos Equis, popped the caps and handed her one.

  Look at that, Shane thought. He knew just what she needed. She tilted the bottle at him by way of thanks, took a long, cold swallow and continued her story.

  “Eventually, by the grace of God, or fate, or whatever you choose to call it, I ended up in Silver City. I found it charming in a Wild West kind of way. It was spring, and the sky was so blue, the air so clear, the Black Range so close you could almost reach out and touch it. The people were friendly, too, and there were lots of art galleries, which was a plus for me.

  “The day I arrived, I walked into Silver Linings and met Beth, and we clicked right away. I’d toyed with the idea of changing my name, and when I introduced myself to Beth, ‘Shane MacKinnon’ just popped out of my mouth. I guess I didn’t want to be Shannon Malone anymore.”

  She took another sip of beer, pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I rented an apartment over a store,” Shane said, “bracing for the moment I was recognized on the street, but it never came. I paid cash for everything so I wouldn’t have to explain why Shane MacKinnon had just popped into existence. After a while, I started to breathe easier. I tried waitressing, but I was terrible at it, and besides, there was too much contact with tourists who might recognize me. Then I got a job working for a local housecleaning service. After a while I built a frame loom and started to weave again, and I found a new style, completely different from what I was doing in New York. Beth took me on and the new pieces started selling. Then, three years ago, this property came up for sale. I fell in love with the valley, the views, the solitude, and this crazy-quilt place.”

  She looked up to find Matt studying her face, that intense look in his eyes. This time she held on, looked back.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” Matt said in that deep, sleepy voice that went straight to the pit of her stomach.

  “So am I,” Shane answered. Still looking into his eyes, chancing it, she added, “And, in spite of my earlier asshole-ness, I’m really glad you’re here, too.”

  “Here, on the next hill, or here, in your kitchen?”

  “Both.”

  He made a move to get up and Shane reached across the table to grab his empty plate. “Sit,” she said. “Finish your beer. I’ll serve dessert.”

  “What if I want you for dessert?” That voice again.

  Her back was to him; a shiver coursed through her as she heard his chair scrape against the tiles. Then he was right behind her. She barely had time to put the plates in the sink before he surrounded her, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her against him, brushed her hair aside and laid his warm mouth on the bare skin of her neck. Her knees went weak.

  She felt the whole, masculine length of him lean into her, felt the strength of him, his thighs tight against hers, desire radiating from him like burning coals. Desire for her.

  Against her will, her body stiffened, the old fear betraying her.

  No! I want this!

  But it was already too late. He backed off, his hands moving lightly to her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry, Shane,” he whispered. “I just— I’m sorry.”

  She turned, buried her face in his shoulder, threw her arms around his neck.

  “No, you have nothing to be sorry for, Matt,” she said. “It’s—complicated. There’s so
much you don’t know about me.”

  “Then tell me. I want to know everything.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet. Maybe— I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  He stroked her hair, soothing her. “It’s all right. When you’re ready to tell me your secrets, I’ll be right here. I won’t push you, I promise. As badly as I want to get you naked and do amazing things to your body—and believe me, it’s bad—I won’t push.”

  She laughed a little then, and he eased her back, smiled ruefully down at her. “For you, I’ll suffer. As long as it takes.”

  She tilted her head. “Why would you do that? I know for a fact you’ve got women lining up to jump into bed with you.”

  His head whipped up and he looked around the kitchen. “What women? Where?”

  She saw the laughter in his eyes, punched him on the arm.

  He pushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes, traced a finger along her cheekbone. “Why am I willing to wait? I have a sneaking suspicion you’re worth it.”

  Oh, boy. “What if you’re wrong?” Shane said. She couldn’t compete with his ex in bed, that was for sure. The thought of being in bed with him sent a shiver that was half excitement, half fear, up her spine.

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he said. “Now, what about that dessert? Since I can’t have my first choice, I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

  Shane laughed. Her heart felt light again as she took a pie from the refrigerator and ice cream from the freezer and set them on the table with dessert plates, forks and spoons.

  Matt scraped his chair back and sat down. “Holy cow, is that homemade apple pie?”

  “It is. But I have to admit I bought the ice cream.”

  “No points off for that. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “Not from my mom, that’s for sure. Cooking wasn’t her thing in the best of times, and after my father died she found it challenging to open a can of soup. My Texas grandmother—Gram, my father’s mother—taught me everything I know. I used to sit in the farmhouse kitchen and watch and learn.”

  “God bless Gram’s little Southern heart,” Matt said.

  Shane dished up the pie, warmed it in the microwave and topped each wedge with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

  Matt shoveled in a huge bite, chewed and swallowed, smiling the whole time. “Oh, man, this is pure heaven. Do you see your grandmother much?”

  There it was again, that sad look. Matt swore silently. Courting this woman was like navigating a mine field. But worth it. Totally worth it. He waited. And ate.

  “Gram lives in Phoenix now,” Shane said, staring at a morsel of pie on her fork. “She sold the farm and moved there after Gramps died four years ago.” She put the fork back on her plate. “I haven’t seen her in over three years.”

  “Three years? Why not?” Then he figured it out, and kicked himself again. “Damn reporters?”

  Shane nodded. “The first and only time I visited Gram there, the neighborhood busybody recognized me and called the local TV station. I hadn’t been there for more than an hour when there was a knock on the door and some jerk-off reporter shoved a microphone in Gram’s face. The street was full of news vans and a mob of people, pushing and shoving to get near the door. It was awful.”

  “This was two years after you left New York?”

  “You’d think the frenzy would have died down by then, wouldn’t you? I found out later that one of the cable networks had put together a documentary for the second anniversary of the arrests, airing all the old footage, giving credence to that stupid rumor, even comparing me to that guy who jumped out of a plane back in the seventies with bags of stolen cash. What was his name?”

  “D.B. Cooper.”

  “Yeah. That’s me, D.B. Cooper for the twenty-first century.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that hell.”

  “I was almost used to it by then. I hated it, but I could handle it, as long as it wasn’t constant. But I was furious that they invaded my grandmother’s privacy. Poor Gram. She has high blood pressure and that little episode almost put her in the hospital.”

  She toyed with her fork, let it clatter onto the plate. “I really miss her, but I haven’t dared to try to visit again. I can’t take the chance. We both got new, unlisted phone numbers after that and we talk on the phone once in a while, but I’m afraid they might be monitoring her calls, especially after that sleazy British tabloid got caught hacking people’s cell phones. Which is another reason I don’t want one of the bloody things. She’s seen people snooping around her mailbox, so I’ve been afraid even to write to her.”

  “I wish I could say you’re being paranoid, but these days? Anything’s possible.”

  “Especially when you’re prime tabloid bait.”

  “Especially then. Damn it, Shane, it sucks pond scum that you can’t even go visit your grandmother.”

  That made her laugh a little, and he was glad.

  “It sucks pond scum big time,” she agreed. “But I can’t put her at risk again. They probably have her apartment staked out, or a reward offered for the first nosy neighbor to spot me. And who knows when they’ll run that damn documentary again? They probably still dredge it up every year. Which is the biggest reason I don’t have a TV, either. I got so tired of having my face rubbed in that mess. I feel sorry for the people who lost all that money, but I had nothing to do with it.”

  “The media doesn’t give a damn about your guilt or innocence. As long as your story sells ads, they’ll hound you. That’s the name of the game.”

  “I know. It’s an ugly game.”

  “It’s a butt-ugly game. But I’ll promise you one thing right now, Shane.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to figure out a way for you to go see your grandmother.”

  Surprised by his words and the quiet fury in his voice, Shane studied Matt’s face. She saw the hard slant of his jaw, the determined light in his eyes, and something beyond it, something way down deep where she wasn’t ready to go. This was enough, what was happening between them here, in this moment. It would have to be enough. For now.

  Her heart felt so full that she didn’t know how to contain it, but she remained calm, at least on the outside. “I’m going to hold you to that promise, Matt,” she whispered.

  “Good.” He reached across the table and took her hand, held it a moment, held her eyes with a warm, steady look.

  Then he sat back and grinned. “Just to be clear, is there a reward involved? Because I’ll take pie or sex, either one. Preferably both.”

  As he watched Shane throw her head back and laugh, that marvelous, lilting sound—pure joy—he felt like the king of the world. Oh, yeah, he was definitely signing on as her love slave.

  FIFTEEN

  They talked of other things then, of Silver City and the old West, of the Black Range and strawbale houses, of the Mimbres Valley and its ancient culture, of the drought and the chance of summer rain. They talked until the moon was high and the hour was late and the ice cream Shane had forgotten to put away had melted into vanilla soup on the counter.

  It was well past midnight when Shane’s eyelids drooped and she covered a yawn. Matt’s jaws stretched in a matching yawn, and they both laughed.

  “Looks like it’s time for bed,” Matt said.

  Suddenly wide awake, Shane glanced at him, excitement and wariness squaring off to do battle in her head and heart.

  He flashed his irresistible grin. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m off to my lonely cot, way up on my lonely hill, far, far away.”

  “Matt,” she started, but she didn’t know what to say.

  He came around the table, pulled her up into his arms, smiled down at her. “No pressure,” he said. “Just a little something to think about.”

  His mouth came softly down on hers, tasting, teasing, testing. And she kissed him back, her head spinning, her heart pounding, little tongues of fire flickering under h
er skin where their bodies pressed together. She willed her body to melt into his, willed the fire to flare up, sear her soul clean, burn her past away.

  But when he deepened the kiss, when her lips parted and his hungry tongue darted in, when his hands ran down her back, pulling her hips tighter against him, her blood turned to ice, her body to stone.

  Shane gave a dismayed cry and pushed him away. She looked up into his dark eyes, glazed at first by passion and then by dawning confusion, and she was overwhelmed with shame.

  Matt’s face grew flushed, whether with frustration or anger, or both, she couldn’t tell. She watched him back off, run a hand through his hair, swear under his breath, pace the width of the kitchen and back again. It was like watching a gathering storm with no shelter at hand. Whatever he was about to throw at her, she’d heard it all before, all the nasty names men hurled at women who started out warm and turned cold in their arms.

  When he finally spoke, it was nothing she’d expected.

  “Shane, what can I say? I’m sorry.”

  His voice was hoarse and full of emotion. She stood there watching him, spellbound.

  “I didn’t mean— I got carried away. And after I promised you— Damn. It’s just— You do that to me. Not that it’s your fault. Of course it’s not your fault. It’s my fault, all mine.”

  He paused, looking at her expectantly, but she still couldn’t find her tongue. She shook her head slowly, trying to make her brain work again.

  “Say something, Shane. I’m dying here. Shit!” He rapped his skull with his knuckles. “There I go, thinking about myself again. What a jerk. I’m a jerk. I’m a dickwad.”

  Shane’s voice finally burst out of her in surprised laughter. He was so adorable, babbling like that, twisting himself into knots. She couldn’t believe it. He was worried about her, about how she felt, after she’d led him on like that. She hadn’t done it on purpose, and he got that.

  She’d never met a man remotely like him. He was kind, gentle and strong, and he made her laugh. When she needed it most, he made her laugh.