by Trish Wylie
‘Not if I can help it,’ she admitted.
‘How’s that working out for you?’
‘Was going pretty well …’
‘Until me …’
Her expression softened. ‘Until you …’
Reaching out, his fingers sought the knots of tension at the base of her neck again. ‘Start with something simple. Tell me how you met Stu.’
Louder laughter pulled her gaze across the room while she considered what to tell him. Judging by the brief frown on her face, it wasn’t that simple.
‘I was fourteen,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Figured if I couldn’t stop him drinking, I’d make it more difficult. I went to all the bars within an eight-block radius to see where he’d run up tabs. Deal was, they’d stop giving him credit and I’d pay them off a few dollars a week. The ones who gave me most trouble, I paid first. The patient ones—guys like Stu—would take less on weeks I found it tough.’ She took a breath. ‘Took two part-time jobs and a few years, but I got there. Even made a few friends along the way …’
Earning their respect as she did it, Daniel surmised. He would have liked to have met her back then. But while fourteen-year-old Jo had been surviving the Urban Jungle, a twenty-year-old Daniel was in theatre with the Marines. He could imagine what she would have thought of him if she’d met him before he’d signed up at eighteen. He was a loose gun then; the kind of guy who was more trouble than he was worth. Looking back, he knew he would have had more respect for her than he had for himself.
‘Did it slow him down?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It forced him outside the eight-block radius. That’s when he started disappearing.’
Daniel’s fingers stilled again. ‘He’s the reason you were homeless when Liv met you.’
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. ‘I couldn’t make the rent. He disappeared when we were already on shaky ground with the landlord. When I knew I couldn’t hold out I scouted around for some place dry close to school, packed what I could carry and left. The rest you know.’
Anger flared inside him. ‘Why didn’t you ask for help? There are people out there who—’
‘I was eighteen,’ she said with a glare of warning. ‘I could take care of myself. All I needed was a few weeks to finish high school and get my diploma.’
Fingers moving, his gaze slid across the bar to acquire a new target. What kind of man did that to his kid? Why was she still taking care of him?
‘Where was your mother?’ he asked.
Her neck stiffened. ‘She died.’
‘When?’
‘Accident when I was eight.’ ‘What happened?’
‘Hit and run on her way back from the local store.’
He remembered her saying something about Jack being worse one month out of twelve. ‘The anniversary of her death is this month, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Leaning forward to reach for her cup, Jo dislodged his hand with a subtle shrug of her shoulders. ‘And we’re done talking about this now.’
Daniel’s gaze slid back to his target. He knew exactly who he was talking to next. Five minutes should do it. But before he went looking for a window of opportunity he had to ask the question he didn’t want to ask.
‘Was he ever violent with you?’
‘Don’t—’
‘I need to know.’
The rough tone of his voice turned her head, her gaze searching his eyes before her expression softened. ‘He’s not that kind of drunk. Jack gets happy. That’s half the problem. People buy him drinks ‘cos he’s such a fun guy to be around.’ When laughter sounded she smiled ruefully. ‘See what I mean?’
‘You were lucky,’ Daniel replied, when what he really meant was Jack was lucky.
‘Yes,’ Jo said dryly. ‘I spent every waking moment of my adolescence being eternally grateful for the fact my father is an alcoholic.’
Despite thinking it was the most honest thing she’d said on the subject, Daniel shook his head. ‘Not what I meant.’
The unexpected touch of a fine-boned hand on his thigh drew a sharp hiss of breath through his lips. His thoughts stuttered to a standstill. As always every muscle in his body jerked in response, searing heat seeping into his veins and thickening his blood.
‘I know what you meant,’ she said in an intimate voice. ‘But you don’t have to worry about me.’
Daniel disagreed. Way he saw it, while they were together she was his to take care of and his to protect.
‘He would never hurt me,’ she reassured him.
‘Would he know if he knocked you over or if you injured yourself carrying him upstairs?’ He clamped her hand to his thigh when she tried to remove it. ‘How about when you have to clean up after him or when you’re losing sleep worrying where he is? Not every bruise is visible.’
‘If you don’t stop that I’m going to make you leave.’
She could try.
‘I’m not going to pretend I don’t care.’
‘Did I ask you to?’ She frowned. ‘But what you have to remember is this isn’t because it’s me, Danny. You’re that guy: the one who feels he has to make a difference.’
‘Don’t make me out to be a hero.’ If she knew him better she would know how woefully short he fell of the definition.
‘Then stop trying to be one.’ When a second attempt at freeing her hand didn’t get her anywhere, she shook her head. ‘I don’t need you to rescue me. I need you to trust I know what I’m doing and believe I have my reasons for doing it.’
‘Tell me what they are.’
As she tore her gaze from his a pained expression crossed her face. ‘I don’t want to have a fight with you. But if you keep doing this I won’t be able to stop it happening.’
‘You give me one good reason why you keep doing this and I’ll back off.’
‘Why do you need to know?’ She jerked her brows. ‘And don’t say it’s part of the whole communicating-better thing because this has nothing to do with us.’
‘This is a prime example of you not making it easy for people to get to know you,’ Daniel replied flatly.
‘Getting to know me better isn’t high on your list of priorities when you’re trying to get me into bed.’
‘If it wasn’t we’d already have shared a bed.’
‘You say that like I don’t have a choice.’
‘Tell me you don’t want me.’ When something close to a growl sounded in the back of her throat, he leaned closer. ‘I can tell you how much I want you. You’re never out of my head. I’ve spent dozens of hours thinking about the places I want to kiss you and the things I want to do to you. I want to explore every inch of your body, discover all the hidden places you never even knew you had. I want to drive you so crazy that if I don’t take you, we’ll both go insane. I want—’
‘Stop,’ she breathed.
‘Tell me you don’t want me.’
Her eyes darkened. ‘You know I do.’
‘If I get to know you better, the experience will be better for both of us. You have my word on that.’
She blinked. ‘You’re very good at this.’
The statement lifted the corners of his mouth.
‘Only when I think it’s worth the effort.’
‘I won’t fall for you,’ she said firmly.
Daniel shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to.’
With another blink, she lifted her chin. ‘No falling for me either.’
His smile grew. ‘Okay.’
‘One reason I keep doing this …’
‘Just one.’ He nodded, silently adding another for now.
‘Coney Island.’
Daniel wondered if there would ever be a time she didn’t surprise him. ‘Am I supposed to know what that means?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘But I can explain it.’ She stared into the air beside his head and took a short breath. ‘I was ten or eleven. Jack quit drinking for long enough to remember he had a kid and we went to Coney Island for a day.’
Her mouth curled into a wistful smile. ‘We went on every ride, ate cotton candy and corn dogs until I felt sick and it was one of the best days of my life.’
When her gaze met his, he caught a glimpse of sweet and vulnerable woman at odds with her usual sass and confidence. Something he didn’t recognize expanded in his chest, filling the cavity and making it difficult to breathe.
‘That’s one of the reasons I keep doing this,’ she said with a shrug of a shoulder. ‘Because I still remember Coney Island and the day I got my dad back.’
As she avoided his gaze Daniel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She nestled her head in the curve between his neck and shoulder. When he felt the warmth of her breath against his skin a wave of protectiveness washed over him, tightening his hold. In response she relaxed with a sigh, which gave him the impression what he had done held more value than anything he could have said. But when she looked up at him and smiled tremulously, the something he hadn’t recognized shifted inside his chest again and Daniel sensed trouble. He brushed her hair back from her cheek, focusing on the movement as he bought time to seek out the source of the danger.
Trouble was, she might think she liked living on the edge, but she didn’t know how sharp it could be if a person stood on it for long enough. The question had never been when he would fall, it was always where: one side heaven, the other hell. He had visited the latter too often over the years. It shouldn’t have been a surprise he wanted to reach out and grab a taste of the alternative, even if it was just for a while. But hold on to it for too long and there was a chance he might haul her into the abyss with him, clinging desperately to whatever light he could find in the darkness. It was why he could never ask for something from her that he couldn’t return. Risking his life was easier than emotional involvement. When the stakes were at their highest he felt more alive, stronger; free of the things that weighed him down. It was how he felt when he kissed her.
Oh, yeah, he was in trouble all right.
To make matters worse, she angled her chin, her expression suggesting she knew something was wrong.
Daniel took a short breath, ‘How much longer do you think we’ll be here?’
She glanced across the bar. ‘An hour, maybe two …’ She looked at him again. ‘If you want to go—’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I was just thinking we skipped lunch and you should eat. If Stu can’t rustle up a sandwich, I’ll go get us something.’
Releasing her, he slid around the booth and walked away. While there were certain things he couldn’t give her, he liked to think he could make up for it in other ways. He wanted to take care of her. Not out of a sense of duty attached to his job or the responsibility that stemmed from her connection to his family. Strangely enough it wasn’t entirely because she meant something to him, though there was no denying she did. When he thought it over, it kept coming back to one thing. The same thing that had made him retreat when he thought he might hurt her and try to make amends when it felt as if he had.
She was Jo.
It was as simple and as complicated as that.
CHAPTER NINE
‘There’s a lot of truth in the sayings on a fridge magnet. For example: How many roads must a man walk down before he’ll admit he’s lost?’
HE WAS driving her just the tiniest bit crazy.
‘Could you quit doing that?’ She slapped his hand.
‘Isn’t clearing up after dinner usually one of the things a guy gets brownie points for doing?’
‘I could be a closet neat freak for all you know.’
Glancing around her apartment, he had the gall to look amused. ‘Can’t be easy in Aladdin’s cave …’
Considering every eclectic knick-knack, photo frame and somewhat haphazard arrangement of soft furnishings was a much-loved memento of the life he had turned upside down, Jo took offence. ‘People who live in an apartment for longer than a handful of months have been known to make it look like home.’
Daniel leaned back against the counter. ‘Apparently they also make friends with everyone inside two blocks. You should be more careful when you live alone. Think about varying your routine. The guy in the Chinese place knew your name and where you lived from your order.’
‘Traditionally that’s how food gets delivered,’ Jo said dryly as she folded down the edges of the cartons.
‘Not when an order is being collected.’
‘Do you see potential serial killers everywhere you look?’ She frowned at how snippy she sounded. ‘I trust in my initial impression of people. There tends to be truth in it until our heads get in the way. You should try it some time.’
‘You know I’m going to ask the obvious now, right?’
‘Not going there.’
‘I can take it.’
‘Not my main concern.’
‘It’s because it opens us up to my initial impression of you, isn’t it?’ He opened the refrigerator door. ‘You telling me you’re not curious?’
Placing the cartons on a shelf, she turned to take their glasses to the sink. ‘It’s got nothing to do with curiosity. I doubt you even remember when it was.’
‘I have a long memory.’
She sighed. ‘Revisiting the things that started us arguing in the first place probably isn’t wise at this point.’
‘Can’t be any worse than the mood you’ve been in since I got here. When you’re ready to tell me what the problem is let me know.’ Closing the door, he pushed his large hands into the pockets of his jeans and continued the conversation as if he hadn’t made her feel like a petulant three-year-old. ‘We met the fourth of July weekend Liv brought you home.’
No, they didn’t. If she was in a better mood than the one she’d been in since before he got there, she could have told him exactly when they met. It was—
Lifting her chin, she blinked as the memory made its way up from the deepest recesses of the well where she stored the things she’d chosen to forget. Suddenly she could remember the first time he sucker-punched her with his infamous smile. She could see what he was wearing, how gorgeous he looked, most of all she remembered how she’d felt. It didn’t take a genius to work out the events between their first and second meeting had an effect too. But it certainly shed a different light on her reaction to him when he foolishly opened his mouth that fourth of July weekend.
‘You were quieter then,’ he said.
‘Bit difficult to get a word in edgeways when your family is gathered en masse.’ Setting the glass on the drainer with a shaking hand, she took several calming breaths.
‘Roomful of cops is normally enough for most people.’
She nodded. ‘There was that too.’
‘Shouldn’t be a problem unless you feel guilty …’
Grimacing, Jo reminded herself he couldn’t possibly know what she currently felt guilty about. Instead she thought back to her feelings that day. ‘Bit hard to avoid guilt when you’re somewhere you know you don’t belong.’
‘That’s how you felt?’
‘I didn’t belong anywhere back then.’
‘What about now?’
‘I like to think I’ve claimed my own little corner of the world. You should try that some time too.’
‘You think I haven’t?’ he asked as she turned to face him.
Jo avoided his too-blue gaze when it felt as if he could see right through her mask of calm. ‘The big pile of unpacked boxes in your apartment would suggest otherwise.’
‘Short lease, remember?’
That big ticking clock she could hear? The one telling her how little time she had to repair the damage inflicted by the war she’d started? Oh, yes, she remembered. Since it sped up the countdown, it added to the regret she felt for taking the assignment she was offered that afternoon.
Daniel had started texting her when she was in the office preparing for an editorial meeting. Initially a continuation of the word game they’d played—one she didn’t intend to play while they were working—she ended
up grinning like an idiot by the time they were swapping comments chock-a-block with sexual innuendo. He really was bad. An hour later the girls sitting at the desks next to her demanded to know who ‘he’ was because it had to be a man to put a smile like that on her face. They asked for details and it was tempting to share them, if for no other reason than she hadn’t been able to with anyone else.
She was dangerously close to blushing—and she had never blushed—when her editor appeared, sent everyone scurrying back to work and asked if she could have a moment. To make matters worse the epitome of unabashedly single, career-driven woman felt the need to enquire about her ‘availability’ for a big assignment before offering it to her. As a result the words ‘yes’ and ‘absolutely’ left Jo’s lips before she had time to consider exactly what it meant.
When looking around her apartment led to thoughts of how much she would miss it when she was gone, she frowned. ‘Don’t you want a place you can call home?’
‘New York is home, doesn’t matter where I live in it.’
Jo disagreed. She had lived in the city her entire life, but since four weeks of that time had involved sleeping beneath an underpass she knew the difference between living somewhere and having a place to call home. She looked into his eyes again. ‘What is it about here you like best?’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘You work in New York, you see people face to face. It’s not like California where you spend half your life in a car or overseas when you fight an enemy without ever looking into their eyes.’
It was the kind of insight that would have made her like him a lot earlier if she’d given him half a chance. ‘When were you in California?’
‘I was stationed in San Diego with the Marines.’
Another thing she hadn’t known. ‘You said work in New York. What is it you like about living here?’
‘Same answer.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘You could try telling me what you’re looking for,’ he replied with a hint of a smile.
A lump appeared in her throat, forcing her to take a moment and swallow it so she could control her voice. She didn’t deserve a smile. Not when she’d been the way she was with him since he landed at her door. It wasn’t his fault her head was a mess. Not entirely. ‘I don’t get how you can see here as home without looking for a few hundred square feet to call your own. Aren’t you sick of living out of boxes?’
