The Gazebo

by Kimberly Cates

  “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Stone warned.

  Trula stretched up on tip toe so she could look into her grandson’s eyes. “I love you, too, Sugar Bear,” she said.

  Deirdre slipped out the door, not wanting Stone to see that Trula had managed to choke her up, made her want something she couldn’t have—a mother or grandmother to hug her that way. Someone to pour out her pain to, all the anguish she’d felt since she’d opened that cursed hope chest. Or maybe long before that, when she’d found herself pregnant with a baby of her own.

  CHAPTER 8

  DEIRDRE CLIMBED INTO STONE’S truck, and concentrated on banishing the vulnerability from her face. Sugar Bear. She forced herself not to think of the sweetness and love behind the endearment, grabbed on to the tease factor of having the name applied to six foot four inches worth of muscle-bound man.

  Stone strode around the side of the house and opened the car door, settling the soup and a box of Twinkies on the floor of the back seat, before he slid behind the wheel.

  “Sugar Bear?” Deirdre echoed.

  Her emotional fake-out worked. He glared at her, looking like Cade just itching for a fight. “Yeah. She’s my grandma and she calls me Sugar Bear. Want to make something of it?”

  “No, I…I love it, Stone. Really.”

  “Fine,” Stone said, pulling out of the drive. “Just laugh and get it over with.”

  “Maybe I’ll cut you a break. Restrain my impulse to buy space on a billboard and tell the whole world who you really are. Sugar Bear Stone, Private Eye.”

  “You really should audition for a spot on Letterman,” Stone said, hitting the gas. “You’re hysterical.”

  “Only when someone is sweet enough to give me such great material. Speaking of hysterical, you must have been laughing plenty yourself in your office that first day, letting me believe Trula was some kind of floozy. You did that on purpose.”

  “Yeah, well, I hoped I’d disgust you so much you’d find some other P.I. stupid enough to take the case.”

  “You could have said no. In fact, you did say no. So why change your mind and show up at March Winds the next morning? And don’t give me some hard-assed line this time. How about the truth? Or I could ask your grandma.” Deirdre chuckled. “Who would’ve guessed a guy like you would have a grandma?”

  “What? You think I crawled out from under a rock?”

  “Yeah.” Deirdre grinned. “I just didn’t know you were dressed in tights.”

  Stone glared. “Ha, ha, ha.”

  “I’ve got to admit, you’re full of surprises. First you turn into Karate Man and kick those convicts’ butts, then I find out you’re a triple threat.”

  “One talent led to the other. If you want to teach a boy how to fight, put him in tap shoes.”

  Damn, if Stone’s honesty didn’t make her like him at least a little. “You might as well can the whole tough-guy act with me now, Stone. Even the Terminator wouldn’t look threatening if you’d seen him in tap shoes.”

  Deirdre wanted to hang on to humor. But suddenly she remembered Trula’s hug. She didn’t feel like laughing. “She’s amazing. Trula, I mean. You’re lucky to have her.”

  “Tell me about it,” Stone said, so tenderly Deirdre’s throat ached.

  “Did you really grow up backstage in Vegas?” She couldn’t resist asking. She didn’t expect Stone to elaborate. He wasn’t any better at giving away pieces of himself than she was. But something between them had changed in Trula’s pink living room. Deirdre knew she’d never see Stone quite the same way again. The P.I. rolled his shoulders, settling deeper into the driver’s seat.

  “My parents died in a fire when I was two. Trula took me in.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t remember them much. Don’t remember anything until I landed in Vegas. I loved all the excitement, watching Trula transform into this—this magical creature. God, she was so beautiful, and when she danced she was so happy she just glowed. Every man in the joint was crazy about her.”

  Deirdre could picture it so clearly—Trula, the queen of the stage with dozens of bedazzled men buzzing around her.

  “It was like a family when I was there. The showgirls were like—well, it was like having thirty big sisters.”

  “At three, maybe. But once you were older…”

  Stone laughed. “I was the envy of every twelve-year-old boy in the world, surrounded by gorgeous women. But a lot more things than my voice changed that year. That’s when Tony Manoletti started arresting Trula every chance he got.”

  “Arresting her? But she said she wasn’t a…well, a prostitute.” Deirdre’s cheeks burned. And people thought she was blunt. She could take lessons in it from Trula.

  “She wasn’t, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have gentlemen friends. There was this Mafia boss who made her his mistress. Showered both of us with stuff—if I’d had a license he probably would have bought me a car.”

  “An orange muscle car like the one up on blocks?”

  “Nah. That’s Trula’s baby. Tony gave it to her for her fiftieth birthday. She can’t drive it anymore because her eyesight’s not so great, but, man, oh, man, did she love to go fast!”

  “So what happened to the Mafia version of Santa Claus? I mean, you were a cop. His influence doesn’t seem to have stuck.”

  “It turned out he wasn’t a Santa Claus. More like the bloody-horse-head-at-the-end-of-the-bed kind of guy if anybody dared to cross him.” Stone’s mouth set, grim. “That last year in Vegas was a hell of a show, and I don’t mean on stage. Giancomo stalking Trula, coercing her into staying with him by threatening to hurt me if she didn’t. Tony arresting her and me…feeling so goddamned helpless. The first time I saw Giancomo actually take a swing at Trula I went after him with my baseball bat.”

  “God, Stone! You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

  “He laughed his ass off and gave me a little souvenir.” Stone touched the corner of his right eye and Deirdre could see a two-inch scar there, a thin white line where a man’s fist had connected. “Told Trula if she didn’t do what he wanted, he’d start taking things out on me. Then he left. Trula had a show to do, then afterward, a party for the high rollers. Said as soon as they were over…she’d make sure Giancomo could never hurt anybody again.”

  “Didn’t Giancomo ever hear that mother grizzly analogy? He should’ve been shaking in his shoes.”

  “Trula was a hell of a woman, but she was no match for a mob boss. I knew that even as a kid. I was the man of the family,” Stone said. “I was supposed to protect her.”

  “At twelve?”

  “I headed out to the street swearing next time I faced off with Giancomo things would be different. I hadn’t exactly had a Dr. Seuss kind of childhood, you know? I’d heard enough from the men around the casino that I had some idea what to do. I sold all the stuff Giancomo had given me—the television and stereo and God knows what else. When I had enough money, I bought a gun off some other street punk.”

  Was that when Stone had realized he had the strength to pull the trigger? When he was just twelve years old? Deirdre wondered. Had it made it easier to shoot the man who’d cost him his badge?

  “Tony nabbed me about two minutes after I bought the thing. He’d watched the whole deal go down. The guy grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and yelled me half-deaf, telling me I shouldn’t be worrying my grandmother. Then he saw my eye—turned into a hell of a shiner. I started to cry.”

  Stone’s voice dropped low. “He was this giant of an Italian, barrel-chested with hands big as hams. He should’ve dragged me straight to juvie hall. Instead he took me to this little diner—a lot like the one you and Emma took me to—and he bought me a chocolate milk shake. He told me he wouldn’t take me to the station if I told him what happened to my eye. The truth. So I told him.”

  Stone fell quiet, just driving, his mind God knew how many years and miles away.

  But Deirdre couldn’t let
him brood, had to know the rest. “What happened then?” she asked.

  “I’d never seen Tony so quiet. He was always blustery and swearing and laughing. Took me back to the place Giancomo had rented for us. This high-class apartment. The doorman didn’t even want to let him in. But Tony pulled out his badge. Trula had the place torn apart, packing things for the two of us, ready to run. Tony sat across the table from Trula—God, she looked so ashamed. She’d let a monster like Giancomo get close enough to threaten her grandson.”

  Stone kneaded the back of his neck with one hand, the other deftly handling the steering wheel.

  “I think Trula was afraid Tony would call child welfare, that they’d take me away from her.” Stone chuckled softly. “Who could have guessed that Sergeant Manoletti would tell Trula that he’d spent the last year scared to death for her. He knew how dangerous Giancomo was, but what could a plain man like Tony offer her in the bastard’s place? He’d done the only thing he could think of to keep her safe. Figured if she was in court she’d be so high-profile Giancomo would have to know Tony was watching him, would have to think twice about hurting her. Or me. I remember Trula asking why Tony should care. There was no way out of a relationship like this for an over-the-hill showgirl who had a boy to support.

  “Tony…he turned bright red. Stared down at the table and said there was a way out. He said…he loved both of us. Wanted to marry us. Us. Not just Trula.” Stone still sounded surprised.

  “But a guy like Giancomo wouldn’t just let the three of you disappear into the sunset, would he?” Deirdre asked, fascinated by the story in spite of herself.

  “Tony had been working for months to get the goods on Giancomo’s son. Said he’d keep it under wraps if Giancomo left us alone. It’s the only time he ever crossed the line in fifty years he wore the badge. Tony said he was never sorry. They got married in an Elvis chapel, then he packed Trula and me up in his car and moved us to Illinois. And that was the end of my career as a juvenile delinquent.”

  “He must have been proud of you, trying to defend your grandmother that way.”

  Something haunting stole into Stone’s eyes. “He lived just long enough to see me graduate at the head of my class from the police academy. I’m glad the old man can’t see me now.”

  A muscle in Stone’s jaw twitched. Deirdre had fought for distance from old pain often enough herself to know what Stone was doing. Silence stretched, filled with things Stone couldn’t say. It was hell just thinking sometimes, being alone in your own head. Empathy filled her, and she wanted to give him a hand. Drive back the shadows in his face in the way both she and Stone seemed to know best.

  Laugh…try to make him laugh….

  “So that’s how you ended up in Illinois, huh? Bet you had plenty of stories to tell the kids about feather fans that slipped. Still, it was a big change from Vegas. Especially for a twelve-year-old boy.”

  Stone took the gift she offered. His mouth crooked in a smile. “It was a real bummer. Getting kicked out of the dressing room about the time I figured out what all those beautiful breasts were for.”

  “What a letdown.”

  Stone surprised her by the seriousness in his reply. “It was a letdown, but not the way you think. I missed it. Really. Missed them. Being in the middle of all that woman stuff. The smells, the ‘soft’ of them, the way they’d all stop to kiss me good-night. When I was little, Trula would set up a cot in the dressing room, and I’d sleep until the show was over.”

  Deirdre winced at a bittersweet memory, a much-smaller Emma sound asleep, curled in a nest of blankets in the back room of a nightclub, a book clutched like a teddy bear in her arms.

  Shame warmed Deirdre’s face. She fiddled with one of the softly feathered strands, wishing it was long so she could hide behind a silky curtain of curls like Emma and Finn sometimes did. But all her fidgeting accomplished was drawing attention to her burning cheeks. She surprised herself by confessing. “When I was on the road singing with the band, I did that to Emma sometimes. A little girl, sleeping in places she never should have set foot in. I wonder if she’ll ever forgive me for that. Or if I’ll forgive myself.”

  Stone’s eyes suddenly gentled. “Are you sure you need her to? Maybe all that mattered to her was that you were there to tuck her in.”

  “I wasn’t exactly a Super Mom. She…she deserved better. I hope I’ve managed to give it to her the past six years. But it’s still hard. I…I abandoned her for almost a year, left her with Cade.”

  What was she trying to do? Make sure Stone saw her for what she was? Damaged. A failure…a woman who’d run away. Not once, but twice in her life. She couldn’t look at Stone, didn’t want to see the disgust in his eyes.

  Stone surprised her, reaching across the console to gently squeeze her hand. “You’d just come back for Emma when I came to see your sister-in-law that day.”

  “You…knew?” Deirdre didn’t pull away, needed the warmth, the strength of someone’s touch. Who would have guessed she’d find that in Stone? “I can just imagine what went through your mind when I came to your office that day. What a hypocrite. She wants to dump on her family now and run off looking for some stranger? She’s lucky they took her back the first time after what she did. No wonder you didn’t want to take my case.”

  “Is that what you think?” They were passing a deserted park, Stone pulled in, ground to a stop in the shelter of a copse of trees. He killed the engine and turned to look square in her eyes. His face was so rugged, so handsome, so unexpectedly kind, Deirdre had to look away.

  He curved his fingers under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “What happened with Emma didn’t have a damned thing to do with why I tried to send you away. Truth to tell, I admired you for coming back. It’s not easy to admit you’ve made a mistake.”

  Deirdre didn’t want to cry, felt her eyes burn, his touch so warm, so gentle. Who would have believed Jake Stone could be gentle?

  Stone shrugged, grimaced. “I figured you hated me, Deirdre. You made it pretty plain.”

  Deirdre knew she should pull away. “I…I hated what you did to Finn and Cade.”

  Stone’s thumb swept her cheek. “I hated what I did to them, too. Hell, if I’d known what good people they were maybe I’d have walked away without ever telling them.” He gave her a shadow of his killer smile. “Some tough guy, huh? Six years later and I still think about them.”

  Stone’s eyes darkened, dipped to her mouth. The brush of his gaze set her lips tingling. His voice dropped low. “I still think about you.”

  Deirdre swallowed hard. “Me?”

  “About you and me together. About how you’d taste with all that fire in your eyes…about…aw, hell. I didn’t trust myself in a room with you because I figured you’d laugh in my face if I was ever stupid enough to…” His eyes were burning her up.

  “But you didn’t stay away.”

  “No. I told myself I could fix things for your family. Some kind of…of penance, maybe. I could make sure nothing more hurt you and then walk away. I swore I wouldn’t kiss you, wouldn’t touch you. Hell, I’m a professional asshole, aren’t I? You told me that yourself.”

  “Ruthless. I said something about ruthless.”

  “I am, damn it. I want sex, Deirdre. With you. Hot, sweaty, pounding-myself-into-you-until-neither-one-of-us-can-walk kind of sex. That’s all. I don’t want any of this.”

  “Don’t want what?” Deirdre’s pulse thudded hard in her throat.

  “What your brother has. What Tank Rizzo has. What Trula and Tony had. No offense to you, it’s just that I’m not cut out for anything permanent. Hell, just ask my ex-wife. What I did…when I pulled that trigger…it’ll follow me the rest of my life.”

  “Some things do,” Deirdre said bleakly. All the years she’d loved Emma, cared for her, couldn’t change the nine months that Deirdre had left her little girl alone.

  “A good man would’ve stayed away from you. But you were right about me. I’m not a good man. I’m
just a selfish bastard who wants you.”

  Alarm bells jangled in Deirdre’s head. No, this was crazy. Her tongue swept out, moistened her lips.

  Stone closed the space between them. His mouth capturing hers in a kiss so fierce her head spun, her body flamed. She didn’t want to kiss him back. Didn’t want her fingers to curl into the shoulder-length waves of hair, but they did, instinctively savoring the contrast between that dark silkiness and hot skin.

  A hungry sound rumbled in Stone’s throat, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue insistent and male and masterful as it parted her lips. He was inside her, tasting of sex and surrender and risks Deirdre didn’t have the courage to take.

  He dragged her against him, not giving a damn about the console between them, his big hands rough with need, showing her how much he wanted her. For sex. Just sex.

  No! Panic iced through Deirdre, and she struggled in his arms. Stone resisted, long moments that seemed an eternity. She bit whatever part of his mouth her teeth could reach.

  Stone cursed, yanked away, pressing the back of his hand against his bottom lip. Deirdre groped for defiance, gathered the shreds of her pride around her, prayed he couldn’t smell the fear on her or the confusion.

  He stared at her, breath rasping in his throat, that tiger-like hunger in his face.

  “Deirdre, what the hell?” he said, bewildered.

  “You wouldn’t let me go. I’m not—not interested in sex.”

  “Could have fooled me, lady. The way you were looking at me with those eyes of yours. Your tongue on your lips, making them wet for me. Oh, you want it, all right. But a simple no would have been enough. You didn’t have to draw blood!”

  Hadn’t she cried no? She thought she had. But he looked so bewildered. Of course, a man who looked like Stone wouldn’t hear no very often. In fact, there were moments when he was right, she had wanted it.

  Stone naked, slick with sweat. Stone hungry, his hands all over her, inside her. Stone shattering the icy walls she’d never been able to break through…