by Regina Kyle
She lifted her head to look at him and his chest squeezed even tighter. A wet finger snaked its way into his clenched hand, resting on his thigh. “That sucked.”
“Just an average day for me and my father.” He lifted his other hand from her back and brushed a tear from her cheek, one corner of his mouth involuntarily twisting into a smile. “I’ve had to deal with my parents’ bullshit my whole life. I’m just sorry you had to see it.”
“You know what?” Unfastening her seat belt, Holly leaned back, stretched her legs and gave a long, shuddering sigh. “I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think it’s exactly what I needed to see.”
“How so?”
“A part of me has always wondered if I made the right decision leaving when I did. If it would have turned out...differently if I had stayed and tried to work things out with Clark.” She bit her lip and stared out the window. “Now I know.”
“Trust me. There’s no working things out with some guys. My father’s one of them. From what you’ve told me, I’m pretty sure your ex is another.”
“Yeah. I guess you and I have more in common than I thought, with men like that in our pasts.” Holly closed her eyes and stretched again, arching her back and raising her hands over her head. The movement made her breasts strain against the thin fabric of her dress, and suddenly the atmosphere in the car seemed stifling, claustrophobic.
Nick dropped his hand and surreptitiously adjusted his cargo shorts so she wouldn’t see the havoc she was wreaking on his libido. What was the matter with him? If he didn’t get the hell out of that car—and fast—he was going to take her right there in the driveway, which, he reminded himself, would be a colossal mistake. Hello—not two minutes ago she was a hot sniffling mess, thanks to his father and the memories of her piece-of-shit ex-husband he’d dredged up. Definitely not the time to go all alpha on her.
“Come on.” He flung open the driver’s door. “Let’s finish this discussion outside. I need some air.” He climbed out and headed through the tall grass toward the lake.
“Where are we going?” The sound of crunching gravel morphed into the swish of the grass against her ankles as she got out of the car and trailed after him.
“Back to where it all began.”
15
HOLLY WAS HALFWAY to the lake, letting the cool breeze off the water calm her jangling nerves, when she saw the dock and stopped short.
Even faded and warping, it was still the showpiece of Leffert’s Pond. A long series of boards led to a large square platform covered by what looked like the roof of a Chinese pagoda. A wooden dinghy bobbed alongside, tied to one of the pilings.
Give her a thousand covered docks and Holly would still recognize this one. Nick’s words echoed in her head.
Back to where it all began.
He stood under the Paganos’ ostentatious pagoda, in almost the same spot where he’d found her the night of the cast party. Facing the water, hands thrust into the pockets of his shorts, he looked like a modern-day pirate. The wind ruffled his dark curls, dangerous and sexy, as he stood surveying his plot of the briny deep.
She made her way across the yard and down the dock. It creaked and swayed with every step, signaling her approach, but he didn’t turn, not even when she reached his side. “Are you sure we should be here?”
He angled his head and his chocolate eyes mirrored hers, half-lost in memory. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, sending ripples down her spine. “I can’t think of anyplace better. Can you?”
“You know what I mean. It’s private property.”
“You must have missed the sign out front. It’s on the market. And from the looks of things, it’s been vacant for a while. No one around to bother us.”
She’d been too puffy-eyed to spot the sign when they pulled in, but the traces of neglect were evident in the cracked wood pilings and peeling paint. It was eerie how, despite the changes, the place still felt so familiar. And a little bit “theirs.”
The pier was New England rustic, and the lapping water relaxed her. Nick was right. This was just what she needed.
“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s beautiful. And thanks for not freaking out back in the car. I’m sorry I lost it like that....”
“Hey, it’s okay. My fucked-up family has that effect on people.” Nick lowered his long, lean frame to sit on the dock, and held a hand up to her.
Relaxed or not, her emotions were still running high. Any physical contact and she might spontaneously combust. She wiped a damp hand on her backside and sat beside him, not touching. “I hope you don’t expect any words of wisdom this time. I’m fresh out.”
“You sure?” He reached down and dragged his hand through the water. The simple movement made his biceps ripple, and she bit back a sigh. The man was beautiful, even in the middle of a personal crisis. “You did so well last time.”
“Right. So well your father doesn’t speak to you and you barely see your mother.”
“My father was never going to be satisfied with me, no matter what I did. And my mother was never going to stand up to him. I was trapped, and you gave me a way out. At least this way I’m following my own dream, not his.”
“I wouldn’t give up on your mom. Not just yet.”
“How’d you work up the courage to leave?”
Holly shook her head and stared out across the surface of the lake, clear and calm and dappled by the late-afternoon sunlight. “It had nothing to do with courage and everything to do with necessity.”
“Bullshit.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know you. Even at sixteen, you had the courage to be your own person, not who your parents, or your teachers, or your friends expected you to be. I envied that.”
She stared down at the cool, clear water swirling around the pilings. Even now, as a grown woman, it was hard for her to hear a compliment. She let her legs dangle off the dock next to his, taking care not to brush against him. Something restless was building inside her and she needed to keep it locked away. Touching Nick seemed to burst her wide open, and it was hard to concentrate with the heat from his body surrounding her, making the hairs on her arm stand at attention. “I’m still in shock that you remember our conversation at the cast party. Now I’m supposed to believe you were jealous of me, too?”
“I told you, I remember everything.” Nick reached for her hand but she slid it out of range and under her thigh. “And not just about that night. About you. You always brought lunch from home, either peanut butter and jelly or tuna salad. And you ate with the band geek—uh, the music department kids, at a table in the corner by the vending machines. Your favorite subject was history, especially ancient civilizations. You even dressed as Cleopatra one Halloween.”
“Helen of Troy,” Holly muttered, amazed he’d gotten that close. Was it really possible he’d paid that much attention to her? As much as she had to him?
“You liked snow,” he continued, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “I watched you out the window once in Marketing and Management class. Everyone else ducked for cover and ran inside, but you lifted your head up and stayed out there after the bell, spinning around and catching flakes on your tongue. You looked like a snow fairy.” He put a warm hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. “How am I doing?”
Her heart practically lurched out of her chest, but she covered it with a wobbly laugh. “Were you having me followed or something? Bugging my locker?”
“Nah.” He nudged her with his shoulder, sending pinpricks of awareness racing down to her fingertips. “Just observant.”
“Why me? Pretty much every girl in school had a crush on you. And a few of the guys, too.”
“None of them were you. Especially the guys.” He waggled his eyebrows but then turned serious, hesitating before he spoke next, almost as if he was weighing his words. “You’re an amazing person, Holly. Then and now. When
are you going to believe that?”
“Probably about the same time I believe in unicorns, the Easter Bunny and world peace.”
“I’d sure like to try to convince you.” He leaned into her, stroking a work-roughened finger down her arm. “That you’re pretty damn incredible, I mean. I’m on the fence about unicorns, myself.”
“Don’t. Please.” She scooted away from him. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Why didn’t she? Because she was afraid of what his verdict would be, that was why. He’d never look at her the same way once he found out what she’d done. Or, more accurately, didn’t do. Although she hated to admit it, she kind of liked the way he’d been looking at her. The way he was looking at her now.
“Have you ever had a secret so big you felt as if it could swallow you whole?” Holly’s voice sounded breathy and faint, even to her ears. “One you kept from almost everyone?”
“Yeah, I have.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I’ll share mine if you share yours.”
“Okay.” She paused and took a deep, fortifying breath. “You asked what made me leave Clark. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you won’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you.” His voice was earnest, his eyes sincere.
She hoped he was right.
“You might when you hear this.” He started to interrupt, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. She gazed back out at the lake, afraid if she looked at him the words wouldn’t come. “I didn’t leave because I was brave. Or smart. Or even just plain fed up, although I was. I left because I had to. I left because I was pregnant.”
* * *
“I WAS PREGNANT,” she repeated, as if trying to convince herself it was true. She hugged her knees to her chest. “That’s why I got out. Or tried to. I didn’t want my child to suffer what I’d gone through. The constant put-downs. Living on pins and needles, never knowing what was going to set Clark off. He’d rant and rave and throw things. Shoes, plates, my grandmother’s antique porcelain doll. Once he even punched a hole in the living room wall. He was never physical with me,” she added quickly. “Not until...that day. He came home early and found me packing....”
Her voice trailed off and she didn’t have to say any more for Nick to understand. The scars. The way her eyes had clouded over when he’d asked her if she had any children. It all made sense now. Horrible, awful, stomach-churning sense.
And she didn’t think she was brave? “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” Holly turned and her bottle-green eyes met his, causing his chest to constrict in a way that was becoming all too familiar. “Just listening helps.”
“I could always take him out for you,” he offered, only half joking.
“Thanks, but no, thanks. Clark’s where he belongs. At the Charles E. Walker Correctional Center. And he’s not up for parole for another seven years.”
“Parole?” Nick practically choked on the word. “He’s a goddamn murderer. He should be locked up for the rest of his natural life.”
She shook her head. “I was still in my first trimester, not far enough along for them to charge him with murder. He got ten years for first-degree assault.”
Nowhere near long enough, if you asked Nick. But he let the matter drop, knowing if he kept this line of questioning up he’d lose the shaky grip he had on his temper and probably scare her.
“I wish I could have been there for you,” he said, surprised to find he really meant it. For the first time in his life, he wanted to do more for a woman than give her brief sexual pleasure. He wasn’t sure why—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to figure it out—but something about Holly brought his protective instincts to the surface.
“You’re here now.” She brushed a stray hair off her cheek and his temper faded, replaced by the growing urge to wrap her in his arms and keep her there, safe from scumbags like Clark.
“I sure am.”
With a puff of breath that ruffled her bangs across her forehead, she released her knees and let her legs swing off the end of the dock.
“I feel— I don’t know. Lighter, somehow.”
“You’ve never told anyone about this?”
“Only the police. The doctors and nurses who treated me. And my therapist. Clark pleaded guilty, so I didn’t have to testify. The prosecutor said I wouldn’t have been allowed to tell the jury about the baby, anyway. Said it wasn’t ‘relevant.’” She stared up at the sky, its brilliant blue now streaked with reds and yellows as the sun started to dip toward the horizon.
Not relevant, my ass. Nick mentally added another person to his list of people who deserved a good old-fashioned beat-down. “What about your family?”
“They had no idea how bad things were until I wound up in the hospital. And they still don’t know about the baby. I could never bring myself to tell them.”
“Why now?” His voice was halting as he lowered himself down to lie on the dock beside her. “Why me?”
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “You asked. And I guess I figured if anyone would understand, it’d be you.”
She had a point there. “Thanks.” He held his hand out again and this time she took it, entwining her fingers with his.
“For what?”
“For trusting me.”
They lay like that, on their backs, hands joined, eyes on the reddening sky, the only sounds the lapping of the water against the dock, the chirping of crickets and an occasional birdcall. After a few minutes, she broke their silence.
“He wasn’t always a jerk, you know. Things were great for the first few years. But then he lost his tenure-track position at Wesleyan and had to take a job at a small college in upstate Vermont. He was never really the same after that.”
“You don’t have to make excuses for him.”
“I’m not. I’m making excuses for me.”
“You don’t have to do that, either.”
“I killed my baby, Nick.”
Her words were less than a whisper. He turned his head to look at her and found her gazing back at him, her eyes dark and wet and sad. “No. Clark did that.”
“If I had left sooner, convinced him to take anger management classes, gone to my parents for help...”
“We can play what-if all day, but there’s no guarantee any of that would have changed anything. You tried to protect your child. It’s more than a lot of people do.” More than his mother had done. He’d accepted her limitations a long time ago, understood that she loved him the best she could. But she loved her husband more. She didn’t see how the man terrorized his son, convinced herself it was just discipline.
Who was making excuses now?
He sat up, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. Definitely time for a change of subject. For both their sakes.
“My turn.” Still holding her hand, he pulled her up beside him. “Although, to be honest, my secret seems sort of insignificant now.”
“It was important enough for you to keep. That makes it significant.”
Damn. How did she do that? Cut right through all his crap and leave him wide-open.
“I can’t read.”
She stared at him, a half smile on her face as if she thought he was joking. “But you’re an actor. You read scripts all the time. I’ve watched you do it for hours at rehearsal.”
“Garrett records stuff for me so I can listen to it on my iPod. You know how you hassled me for always keeping one earbud in? That’s how I follow along.”
“I don’t understand. You graduated from high school. Didn’t you go to Juilliard? What did you do then?”
“My mom helped me with homework in high school. I had a tutor in college, and use a lot of audiobooks. Julliard lets dyslexic students take tests in the study center. Reading will always be a struggle for me, but I’ve learned how to deal with it.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Yet you cho
se a career that forces you to read. A lot.”
“It’s worth it if you love it. And I do.” He squeezed her hand. “You helped me see that.”
“What you’ve accomplished is pretty incredible. Why don’t you talk about it more?”
“I will. Someday. But I want to be known as a serious actor first, not the actor with a learning disability.”
“Who else knows?”
“Garrett, obviously. My assistant. And now you.”
The quiet between them descended again and they lay back down on the dock. He absently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and was rewarded with a slight shiver.
“Nick?” She ran her tongue across her lips, which got things stirring south of the border.
“Yeah?”
She surprised him by rolling to her side, propping herself up on her elbow and throwing one leg over his hip, dangerously close to the south-of-the-border action. “Kiss me.”
He tried his hardest to look apprehensive. If she wanted to play the seducer, he was on board 100 percent. “Out here?”
She arched a brow and deepened her voice, imitating him earlier. “I can’t think of anyplace better. Can you?”
“No.” He raised himself up to meet her gaze, reaching over with his free hand to cup her cheek. His lips were mere inches from hers, so close he could almost taste that raspberry lip gloss she liked so much. “I sure as hell can’t.”
16
HOLLY CLOSED HER eyes, sighing, as Nick’s mouth met hers. He took his time, kissing her softly before teasing her lips with his tongue. She opened and breathed him in, letting his tongue caress hers. His hand drifted down to her hip, pulling her tight against him.
Sliding his hand to her shoulder, he inched down the strap of her sundress, and she tensed. He raised his head and drew back.
“Where we go from here’s up to you, sweetheart.” The challenge was apparent in his eyes. “But my vote’s for whatever gets us naked fastest.”
“That’s the part that worries me.”
