Coming Home

by Leslie Kelly

  COMING HOME

  by

  Leslie Kelly

  Copyright 2011 Leslie Kelly

  Table of Contents

  Dear Reader

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader:

  Several years ago, when I first set out to write a romance novel, I experimented with my style and voice. My first four books were quite different from each other. When Harlequin offered to buy the first one—Night Whispers—for Temptation, my new editor agreed to look at the other three, but didn’t think they would work for the line. Night Whispers was sexy and flirtatious. The second book I wrote, Angel Baby, was more traditional, focused on the growing love between two people and the creation of a family. The third, Coming Home, was a classic reunion/secret baby story. Also darker, but the heat level went up. Bringing Down Sam went back to my sexy, sassy Temptation roots, but a super-model heroine wasn’t saleable at the time.

  I was four up and three down with my editor. Talk about second-book-syndrome! Fortunately, my editor was (is) terrific, and steered me toward the kind of story she could buy. That became Suite Seduction, my second conventionally published book…but the 5th one I’d written.

  Those other three books have been “in the drawer” for more than ten years. Not that I didn’t think they were good enough to be published, they just didn’t fit the Leslie Kelly brand I was building. But with the recent explosion in backlist book publication on various e-devices, I decided the time had come to share those stories with my readers.

  I hope you enjoy this book. For those of you looking for steamy eroticism, sorry, you won’t find it here. What you will find is a sweetly sexy, tender romance with a fair amount of heat and boatloads of heart.

  Enjoy!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nicole Ross had always figured it would take an Act of Congress or an armed kidnapper to get her to return to Florida. She was wrong. All it took was one heart attack.

  “Please hang on, Dad, please just hang on,” she whispered.

  The elderly man sitting next to her on the crowded plane probably thought she was crazy. Nicole didn’t care. She garnered stares from the flight attendant as well, but ignored them. Lots of people wore sunglasses indoors these days, and maybe some of them even mumbled to themselves. It was better to have them think she was an eccentric than to question the tears and red-rimmed eyes hidden by the dark lenses.

  She hadn’t stopped crying for four hours, not since she first got the call.

  Nicole clenched her fingers tightly into the palms of her hands, until her nails dug into flesh. She hoped the pain she inflicted on her skin would somehow drive away, or at least lessen, the ache in her heart, and the fear in her gut.

  It didn’t work. Her breath still caught in little sobs at the back of her throat, her shoulders shook. Tears formed in her eyes, and her stomach churned in hard rolling knots.

  He just could not die. Especially not now, not before she had the chance to make amends. She hadn’t had a chance to apologize, to explain, to be forgiven for her neglect and inattention. All the excuses, all the pithy comments she’d made regarding the frantic demands of her life, none could compensate for the fact that she hadn’t flown the measly two hours to Florida to visit her father in more than a decade.

  "He understood," she muttered, trying to convince herself with her own voice. Of course he had. And they’d certainly gotten together many times, meeting up for vacations in the Bahamas or skiing in Colorado. Plus, he’d come to see her, braving Mother’s sarcasm and condescension, at least twice a year. Surely he knew by her pleasure in those visits, by her determination to spend every possible minute of those visits with him...surely he knew her love for him had never wavered.

  It wasn’t him she avoided when she refused to come to his home. He knew full well who she was avoiding.

  "Excuse me, you look like you could use this."

  Nicole glanced up to see the flight attendant leaning toward her, holding a tissue. She gratefully accepted it and slid it under her sunglasses to catch the tears spilling over her cheekbones. "Thank you," she said softly.

  "Do you need anything else?"

  Slowly shaking her head, Nicole glanced out the window and said ever so softly, "Only to go back in time."

  She'd missed the summer visits during the past eleven years. But not enough to risk returning. The very thought had filled her with anger, terror, and a strange, confused longing she could not explain.

  But all those feelings had disappeared with the call from Maria, her father’s assistant, with whom Nicole had spoken before, but had never met. Dad had had a heart attack, was in the hospital, and it looked bad. He was asking for her.

  It never occurred to her to stay away. Fifty minutes after the call, she was in the car, packed and ready to go, with a kiss for Justin, and his promise to try to get along with her mother.

  “Give the old man a hug from me. And take care of yourself, Nick,” he’d said as she started the car.

  That had coaxed a reluctant smile from her lips. She’d rolled her eyes as she scolded, “Don’t call me Nick.”

  He’d just smiled that wonderful smile, blown her a kiss, and waved. He was still waving as she pulled out of the long driveway of her mother’s estate, where she and Justin also lived. The sight had made her own smile last a few moments. Then the tears had started again.

  “We'll be landing in just a few minutes. I hope everything works out all right," the flight attendant said.

  Nicole couldn’t believe the flight was already over. It had seemed so short, when part of her wanted it to last forever. As long as she was in the air, and out of communication with people on the ground, she didn’t have to know what was happening. She didn’t have to deal with the possibility of her father’s death.

  Now, though, the reprieve was over. It was time to face reality.

  Before the aircraft even came to a complete stop, Nicole yanked her carry-on from beneath the seat in front of her, determined to be the first off the plane. Her assertion must have been convincing; no one tried to move in front of her, to delay her by dragging oversized camera bags, or other luggage from the overhead compartments. She stood at the exit even as the door was being opened, with a nod of thanks to the crew. Nicole realized they must be quite used to seeing tear-soaked eyes not quite hidden behind dark sunglasses. Every flight probably had a panicked, or grief-stricken loved one flying home for an unexpected emergency, or worse, an untimely funeral.

  "Good luck," said the woman who'd offered her the tissue.

  Entering the terminal, Nicole glanced around, trying to think who Maria would send to pick her up. The woman had promised someone would at the tiny Gainesville airport to meet her so she wouldn’t have to waste time renting a car.

  Nicole let her eyes drift, searching for a familiar face. Dad had many, many friends in his small hometown. Every rancher and stable-hand knew Doc Ross, the most knowledgeable large-animal vet in the county. And most had known his daughter who had spent every summer tagging along behind her Dad, convincing every person she met that one day she’d join him and they’d run the best veterinary practice in the state.

  But she couldn’t think of that now. Couldn’t remember how utterly thrilled Dad had been when she’d finished college, and gone on to study veterinary medicine as she’d always promised, only to stay in Maryland after graduation. He’d tried so hard not to let his disappointment
show through his pride at her accomplishment.

  “What a selfish fool I am,” she muttered, lowering her head.

  “Truer words were never spoken, Nick.”

  No. No, it could not possibly be.

  Nicole squeezed her eyes shut tight. She willed her brain to deny the input from her ears. But she couldn’t deny all her other senses. Her body tingled. Her breath came faster as the clean, outdoorsy scent of a familiar masculine cologne filled her nostrils. A soft breath brushed the side of her neck, and the hairs there stood with a life of their own. Gradually she opened her eyes again. She turned her head, ever so slowly toward the right to see him standing there, so close his entire body nearly touched hers.

  It was him.

  “Hello, Wyatt,” she said, surprised at the steadiness of her voice. She hadn’t even used a thought to form the words, and had no idea where she’d gained the courage to utter them. He didn’t respond at first, which gave Nicole a moment to regain her composure. Then she let her eyes fill up with him, so all her senses were inundated with Wyatt.

  Unfair! It was so unfair that he could still be perfect, that the years of gravity hadn’t pulled his shoulders down slightly, or caused his flat stomach to sag. In her weakest moments, when she’d allowed Wyatt Clayton to cross her mind, she’d taken secret, malicious pleasure in imagining him aging un-gracefully, with wrinkles, and bald spots, and a paunch.

  But, oh, no. Not Wyatt. The hint of male perfection he’d exhibited at age nineteen was nothing in comparison to the actuality of the thirty-year-old man standing before her. He was still tall and on the slim side, but where in his youth his leanness had given the illusion of whip-cord speed, now his rock solid muscular form resembled nothing less than an artist’s perception of utter maleness. His sable-brown hair was still thick, without one speck of gray, curse his hide. And his tanned face had gained maturity, which had only added to his sculpted good looks.

  One thing had changed, though. His eyes, those laughing green eyes which had so captivated her at seventeen, had lost their luster. No hint of mischief lurked in them, luring a young girl to climb out her bedroom window and shimmy down a palm tree to meet him in the orange groves for a little late-night fruit picking. There was no promise of secret pleasures tempting her to the empty tack room in the back of his grandfather's stables. Wyatt had lost his laughter.

  Well, he certainly wasn’t the only one.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m meeting you here.”

  “Gee,” she muttered, “why ever would you think that?”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “Your father was with me when he had the attack. One of my mares was colicky, and Josh came out to the ranch this afternoon. When he started complaining of chest pains, I put him in the truck and got him to the hospital.”

  The man had erased thoughts of her father clean out of her mind, even though it was only for about seventy seconds. “How is he? Has there been any change?" He didn’t reply right away, and she nearly panicked, ready to clutch at his arm and scream at him for torturing her with the delay.

  “He was conscious, talking when I left the hospital. I don't know how serious it is. The doctors will have to talk to you about it.”

  “He’s alive. That’s enough for now,” she whispered.

  Wyatt Clayton heard Nicole’s breath whoosh out between her teeth, and saw the way her stiff shoulders relaxed a bit beneath the light jacket she was wearing. He didn’t question her obvious relief. One thing had been indisputable, from the moment he met Nicole when she was just a tag-along brat of five, following him and his cousin Brady around the ranch. She loved her father with all her heart.

  Maybe that’s why she didn’t have room to really love anybody else.

  "I have to say, I was surprised that you managed to squeeze time out of your busy schedule to play the dutiful daughter. Whatever will the Baltimore snobs do without you?"

  Her dark brown eyes snapped with animosity but Wyatt held her gaze. His mind tried to open up and flood him with memories of the feel of her skin on each delicate curve of her face, and the fine line of her mouth. He thrust the thoughts out of his head.

  "I'll take a cab."

  "Be my guest," he drawled. "I just thought you were in a hurry. Most taxis aren't lining up outside at this time of night. But, I guess if you don't mind waiting around...."

  Frustration rolled off her in heavy waves, and Wyatt nearly regretted baiting her. Nearly.

  "All right. Just get me there," she ordered.

  Wyatt took Nicole’s bag out of her hand, and walked toward the baggage claim area. He didn’t trust himself to stand and talk to her any longer. The temptation to grab her by the shoulders and shake the hell out of her was too overwhelming. The woman was in turmoil, in the midst of a tragedy. His own righteous fury would just have to wait. After all, he’d waited eleven years, hadn’t he?

  Besides, he knew if he grabbed her to shake her, he just might haul her against his chest, and kiss the snarl off her full lips. Wyatt didn’t really know who to hate more for that realization--Nicole, or himself.

  He didn’t notice if she followed, though he assumed she would. No way could he allow her to lead the way. He couldn’t trust himself to look at her. She was a blow to his senses. Little Nicole, who’d grown from a pest to a pretty teenager, who’d blossomed like a flower opening to the rays of the sun in his arms...had turned into a damned beautiful woman. She hadn’t grown an inch in height since he’d last laid eyes on her. The top of her head would still come to rest just under his chin, and, against his own will, he remembered how she’d press her lips to the base of his throat when they’d stood just that way.

  But her figure had definitely changed. She’d outgrown her skinny, gawky teenage years, and her clothes clung to her curvy body. He wasn’t prepared for that. Wyatt still carried in his mind the image of her when they’d first become lovers. She’d been sweet and innocent, worried he wouldn’t be pleased with her slender young form, trying to cover her nakedness with her long hair as she lay in the moonlight and waited for him. He, nearly as inexperienced and as unsure as she, trying to reassure her, drinking in her beauty as he swept aside the long tresses.

  Her hair was shorter now, falling just past her shoulders in a simple cut. He’d heard she’d made it as a vet, and figured the style suited her work and her lifestyle. She looked sophisticated, intelligent, and competent.

  Too bad, he thought, dashing the painful memories of their first romantic encounter out of his mind. He’d half-hoped she’d turned into a frumpy hag.

  The airport was about a forty minute drive from Windover, the small town where Nicole's father lived, but her Dad was at a large hospital in Gainesville. Silence hung heavily in the cab of the pickup during the drive. The tension between them was thick enough to spread on toast. With each mile, Nicole stared out the window, willing herself to ignore the man in the much-too-close driver's seat. She'd come to Florida for one reason. For Dad. To hell with Wyatt Clayton.

  “So, from what your father says, you went ahead and became a veterinarian, just like you always said you would,” he finally said after about ten minutes of silence.

  Nicole nodded wordlessly, still wondering why Wyatt, of all people, had been the one to come pick her up. She would have thought he wouldn’t have had the nerve to face her. Of course, one thing Wyatt could never be accused of lacking was nerve.

  “Guess that’s appropriate. You always cared a heck of a lot more for animals than people.”

  “Animals don't set out to betray and destroy each other," she replied softly, even as she flinched at his harsh words.

  "Tell that to the zebra taken down by the lion," he shot back.

  "That's called self-preservation."

  "Yeah, you've had a lot of experience with that."

  "Only out of necessity," Nicole said as she glared at him.

  She curled closer to the passenger side door of the truck as if putting physical distance between them could diminish th
e anger hanging in the air. Though offended by his accusations, a part of her was also hurt by his bitterness. The change in him was dramatic. He had been so full of laughter as a young man. Now the frown he’d worn since he picked her up led her to believe he never smiled anymore. And, goodness, his smile had been something to see in those days.

  Wyatt Clayton had been hell on wheels as a teenager, a grandchild of the richest man in Windover. His photograph could have been in Webster's next to the word "heartbreaker". Wyatt could charm his way out of any mess, and into the good graces of any female within a thirty mile radius. Nicole at seventeen had been completely unable to resist that charm. What if she had? What might have happened in her life if she'd never fallen so desperately in love at such a young age?

  Honestly, she didn’t want to think about it. Everything that had happened, every step she’d taken, had led her down the path that had brought her to the good life she had now. So, no, she wouldn’t change, wouldn’t step off that path if she had the chance to go back and do it all again.

  Well…perhaps she’d harden her heart a little before that one fateful step when she’d been seventeen. The end result would be the same, but oh, God, did she wish it hadn’t hurt as much.

  “So, do you take care of rich ladies poodles and parakeets?”

  She heard the disdain in his voice and felt annoyance crawl through her. “No. Large animals. Most of my 'patients' run at Pimlico.” She caught him glance out the corner of his eye in surprise. “What? You think because I’m a woman that I’d only be qualified to treat small animals? Good grief, didn’t seeing me tromping through hay and muck with Dad teach you anything about me when we were younger?”

  Wyatt stared at her intently for one brief moment. “I thought I knew you very well. I had plenty of lessons to teach me all about Nicole Ross.”

  He turned his eyes back to the road and Nicole sat heavily in her seat. Indeed, he had known her very well. Against her own will she found her mind flooded with memories of lazy summer afternoons she and Wyatt spent picking oranges in the groves. And hot summer nights sneaking into his grandfather’s pool for a midnight swim. On one such endless night he’d tried to convince her to skinny dip, sliding the thin straps of her bikini over each shoulder and kissing a path down her neck and over her breast as he bared her skin in the cool water.