Zeke's obvious belief in Mark's innocence went a long way toward calming Alexa's stomach. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Braden wasn't there. "Are Braden and I safe here? Should we go to Greg's?"
"I don't think she'll come back. My guess is she thought she'd take one last chance at bullying you into giving her the kid before she and lover boy took off for Mexico."
The thought of Odessa running off with Braden was almost enough to make Alexa sick again.
Zeke put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Your mother's plane doesn't get in until midnight, but she gave me a key, so I'll be across the street if you need me."
Zeke had her mother's key? The fact surprised her, but Alexa decided she was okay with it.
"What about later? After she gets home?”
He hesitated a moment then said, "I'll be there, then, too. Call if you need us."
Us. “Good," she said, and to her surprise, she meant it.
Chapter 14
The sound of the phone ringing woke Alexa from a restless, uneasy sleep filled with images just beyond her reach. She looked at the number on the display. Mark's cell number.
“Hello?”
"Hi. Sorry to wake you."
"No, I'm glad you called," she said, sitting up. The night air was chilly, but her Tweety Bird flannel pajamas kept her from shivering too badly. "Are you still at Metro?"
"Nope. They let me go. My fingerprints didn't match the ones on the gun." He paused then asked, "You heard about that from Zeke, right? He told me you'd talked. I'm really sorry about Odessa. I honestly didn't expect her to show up like that."
"It's okay. We were never in danger." She hoped. "But I did feel badly for Braden. He was pretty shook up."
"Is he asleep?"
"Yeah. Where are you? At home?"
He didn't answer right away. "Actually, I'm out front. They're keeping the Nissan for evidence, and since my truck was here, I had my buddy drop me off. I'm going home, though, and I plan to sleep all day—unless you want me to take Braden with me."
I want you to come in and sleep with me. Terrible idea. Ridiculous. Between her constant low backache and occasional gut-wrenching twinge, she wasn't feeling too alluring. Not to mention the fact that her hormones had turned her into a weepy bundle of nerves.
"No, absolutely not. He's fine here." She got out of bed and walked into the hallway where a tropical-fish nightlight gave her a clear view of Braden's room. His door was partly open and she leaned inside to peek at him.
His covers were a tangled mess, as if he'd been wrestling them—and lost. "He's a restless sleeper, isn't he?"
Mark's low chuckle was sexy even though she knew he didn't intend it to be. "Now, there's an understatement. Usually about this time of night, he starts thrashing and kicking, like he's at war with some horrible demons."
"Night terrors. Fairly common in children his age."
"Do they go away?"
"Yes. Eventually."
Almost as if he'd been waiting for his father's call, Braden started to squirm on the narrow mattress. Eyes squeezed tight, he tossed from one side to the other, moaning. His lips were moving with low, unintelligible cries.
"Uh-oh," Alexa murmured.
"I know how to handle this. Can I come in?"
'Of course. Pull in behind my car in the carport and use the side door. I'll meet you there. Will he be okay if I walk away?"
"Yeah, it's just starting. But hurry."
Moments later, Mark brushed past her with a barely murmured greeting or word of thanks. She understood— and shared—his need for haste. She could hear Braden's cries building.
Mark shucked his leather coat and dropped it on a chair as he rushed to the bed. On his knees, he leaned forward until his head was resting on the pillow beside his son's. "Bray. Bray. It's Daddy. I'm here, son. You're safe. Nobody's gonna hurt you, boy. Nobody. Daddy won't let 'em. Sh.. .sh... Breathe easy, son. Let it go."
He repeated the phrases over and over while gently stroking the child's forehead whenever Braden stilled enough to allow the touch. Twice, the little boy sat up in bed and looked around, his eyes unseeing. The look of terror on his face was enough to make Alexa want to weep, but she didn't. She knelt beside Mark, silently offering her support.
Occasionally, when his shoulders would start to sag, she'd lean over and lightly rub his back. He'd groan softly to let her know the touch was helping, but for the most part Alexa was certain her presence was unnoticed by both father and son. This odd ritual seemed to follow a pattern they were familiar with.
After a few long, tense minutes, Braden let out a sigh and fell back against his pillow, eyes closed, mouth lax; his breathing turned shallow, with an occasional exhausted wheeze.
Mark sank back on his heels, head between his arms. Alexa longed to hold him and comfort him.
His head tilted sideways and he whispered, "I should have warned you that this might happen, but he hasn't had a nightmare for a few days. I guess I'd hoped he was over them."
She smiled and leaned close to say, "I think we can blame this one on his grandmother. And you handled him well."
Mark hadn’t planned on coming in. Exhaustion and too much coffee made him a bundle of displaced energy. But he’d known he didn’t have a choice when he heard the tremor of panic in her voice. She knew kids, but she’d probably never had to nurse one through a night terror episode.
Now, he was glad he’d called before heading home. Braden was easing back into sleep and Alexa’s praise felt good--too good--after the day Mark had had. Watching his son wrestle with his silent demons tore Mark apart. Having someone to share the burden helped beyond anything he could put into words. But he had to try.
Getting to his feet, he found his knees hurt and his ankles were slightly numb. Alexa seemed to be suffering from the same affliction because she stumbled against him before catching her balance. Nodding toward the door, he put his arm around her shoulders, and together they hobbled out of the room.
"Damn, I'm getting old," he muttered once they reached the hallway.
"Me, too. My foot was asleep, but I can sure feel it now," she said, bending over to rub her calf. "How long has he been having night terrors?"
In the yellowish glow of the night-light, she looked like a teenager with a tousled bed-head hairdo, oversize pajamas with cartoon characters he remembered from his childhood and an innocent concern that melted his heart. "Except for the past few days, I can only think of two or three nights that he hasn't woken up crying since he came to live with me."
Straightening, she frowned, her sympathy palpable. "I'm glad you were here. I'm not sure I could have given him the same sort of comfort. You really reached deep into the core, I think."
Mark shook his head. "One of the psychologists we saw said Braden is suffering from something so traumatic and deeply ingrained even Braden doesn't know what it is. What he's going through here is his subconscious effort to work it out."
''That sounds logical. He appeared to be trying to say something, but I couldn't understand him."
“I know. His stutter gets even worse under duress. It's really frustrating. You want to help him so badly and all you can do is comfort him."
She nodded. "I know what you mean."
Her tone held a touch of irony. He was about to ask her to explain, when she took his hand and led him down the hall a few feet and into another room. "I'm tired and you look ready to drop," she said. "How ' bout a cup of cocoa?"
A stiff drink sounded more appropriate given the kind of day he'd had, but he'd sworn off alcohol eight years earlier. He wondered what Alexa would say if he told her the reason why he'd quit. "Something hot and sweet sounds good," he said, realizing a second too late how the words could be misconstrued. "If it's no bother."
Her grin told him she'd gotten the inadvertent double entendre. "Instant packets. No work. Have a seat," she said, pointing toward a small nook that was separated from her bedroom by a freestanding curved bookcase.
"Your private abode," he said looking around. Her fourposter bed looked puffy and inviting. A silk duvet in vibrant jewel tones contrasted dramatically with her white sheets. Perfectly Alexa. "Very you."
She closed the door of the microwave and pushed a button. "Is that good or bad?"
"Beautiful. Lavish. Simple. Modern," he said, pointing to the flat-screen television hanging on the wall opposite the love seat. "And traditional."
From the recliner, he picked up the hand-crocheted throw that her mother had given them both as an engagement present. Without stopping to think, he lifted the quilt of vanilla-colored yarn to his face and inhaled. It carried Alexa's scent and took his emotions for another dip on the roller coaster.
"We're all complex human beings," she said, turning away to take a second mug from a shelf. "Accumulating baggage as we go through life."
Some visible. Some hidden.
The bell sounded and she retrieved the cup. She stirred the contents. "Be careful. It's hot," she said, handing it to him. "I'll be back in a second." She smiled. "Or rather, a minute and forty-five seconds."
Their fingers touched in the process of exchanging control of the mug, and her smile vanished. She practically fled back to the safety of her little kitchen.
"You've got a complete home inside a home, don 't you?" he observed. “I don't remember this room being so big."
"It wasn't. I added on a couple of years ago. By extending the roofline out, I was able to pick up enough space for what my contractor called my princess suite.”
By cocking his just so he could see the corner of a big tub in the master bath. He didn't say anything, though. There was already something very intimate about this arrangement. He didn't plan on taking it any further. Not that Alexa would be interested in hanging out with a guy who'd just spent eight hours being questioned by the police.
When she joined him a few moments later, she settled into the recliner, which was obviously her chair, and pulled the knitted comforter over her bare feet. They sipped their cocoa in a companionable silence that Mark knew he could get used to. "I really can't thank you enough for what you've done for me and Braden."
She looked at him over the rim of her mug. Her mumbled "No problem," made him smile.
"My life is nothing but problems," he said. "And I'm really sorry they've spilled into your lap. You have a business to run and thirty kids to teach tomorrow, and it's after midnight. I should go and let you get to sleep."
He took another drink of cocoa. The chocolate flavor was so rich and sweet it transported him to a blissful world and made him miss what she said to him.
"Wait. Back up. I'm a little punchy. Did you just ask me to stay here tonight?"
She nodded, a blush coloring her cheeks. 'There's a pullout bed in Braden's room. Then you'll be close if he wakes up again."
A nice offer, but not the arrangement he would have chosen—if things had been different between them. "Trust me, he's out for the count. I wish I could say the same in my case, but I'm usually awake for another hour or so after one of these episodes. It would be probably be better if I went home. That way you and Braden can both sleep without me bothering you."
“That sounds like a smart plan. Only one problem. Once I turn off the lights and crawl into bed, I’ll spend the next hour or so mulling over everything that happened today...along with second-guessing all the feelings that have been building between us.” She set her mug on the little table beside her remote control and curled her feet under herself. "Mark, what if you stayed...here...with me."
His heart thudded hard in his chest. "Are you serious?"
A rush of color in her cheeks told him his obvious disbelief had gutted her confidence. She made a motion probably meant to downplay the significance of her offer.
"We don't have to have sex. We don't even have to get under the covers. Well, I do," she qualified. "You know I like to be warm and cozy when I sleep. But today's been really horrible, and I think we both could use some comfort. Don't you?"
"Comfort," he murmured, adjusting his expectations as comprehension sank in. "You want someone to cuddle with. I got it. Sure. No problem."
Only an idiot would think she’d meant to rekindle their relationship. He’d burned that bridge with napalm the minute he chose to sleep with Tracey. He’d broken the heart of the kindest, most-honest and giving person he’d ever met.
And if she needed someone--even him--to help chase away her fears, then so be hit. Penance is mine.
Chapter 15
Mark watched the woman he'd once loved with all his heart rinse out the two mugs then turn to face him. "Besides, it's not like we're strangers. We used to sleep together all the time. Remember how scandalized my dad was when I moved in with you?"
Her impish smile sealed his fate. He remembered. He remembered carrying her over the threshold—even though she'd protested that she weighed too much and that he'd put his back out.
"Where's the bathroom? I'd like to wash up."
"Of course. The guest bath is across the hall from Braden's room. I keep extra toothbrushes in the drawer in case my sisters wind up spending the night."
“Thanks.”
As he unwrapped the new toothbrush, he couldn’t help thinking about what Alex’s life had been like since they broke up. Did she date much? Was there ever anyone special?
Like I have any business asking. He'd dated a few women after his divorce, but none of the relationships had led to anything. He was far too wary of being fooled again. Tracey had pretended to be one person, when in reality she was someone very different. Unlike Alexa. With Alexa, there’s no deceit. She was who she was.
And she was already in bed when he returned. He'd removed his long-sleeved T-shirt, grateful for the white, V-neck undershirt beneath it. He took off his belt and undid the button on his jeans, then kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed. "I could grab that throw and sleep on top of the covers."
She'd turned off the lights in the sitting room and kitchenette, making it too dark for him to read her gaze. But he saw her smile. "We're grown-ups, Mark. We can do what we want. If you want to sleep on top of the covers, you may. But I'd prefer to have you under the sheets with me."
Oh, God. He took off his socks then his jeans. Since the collar of her pajamas was visible above the edge of the covers she'd drawn up to her chin, he kept his underwear on and crawled between the sheets.
Cool enough to make him inhale sharply. The high-quality linens felt soft and inviting. The featherbed mattress topper made him feel as if he'd slipped into a cocoon. A long, satisfied sigh followed. “This probably sounds strange, but this feels like coming home."
Alexa turned on her side to look at him. "I'm glad. Shall I turn the light off?"
"In a minute. Can I ask you something first?"
Her sigh held a curious note that startled him. "What is it about sleepovers that makes people share their deepest, darkest secrets? My sisters are the same way. Whenever we'd sleep together, we'd talk half the night."
He smiled. "You can tell me your deepest, darkest secret if you want, but I was just wondering if I should set the alarm on my watch or will yours go off before seven? I'll need to drive Braden to school since he's not set up to ride the bus from here."
Her chuckle turned into a giggle. 'That's funny. My mother would be appalled by my inability to read your mind." Sitting up, she turned off the bedside lamp and said, "My alarm goes off at five-forty-five. Which is not very far away."
He smiled and waited for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Enough light angled through the slats of the blinds in her window that he could make out her profile. He turned on his side and inched a little closer. "I thought my purpose here was to provide snuggling. I can't do that with you all the way over there."
She made a happy sound and wiggled closer. The sheets shifted out of the way and suddenly they were touching. Their toes and feet were the only bare skin that met, but even that little bit of contact set Mark's imagination on
fire. When he breathed in, her scent filled his senses—indescribable in its subtlety but something uniquely Alexa.
After a momentary awkwardness, he managed to get his arm out so her head could rest on his bicep. "Don't flex," she said. "You could put a kink in my neck."
He laughed outright. "Was that a compliment?"
"Well, you are pretty buff compared to when we were dating."
"Do you know how much a fire hose weighs?" She shook her head.
"A lot. Actually, the physicality of the job is something I miss since I went into arson, although I still take part in trainings whenever I can because I could get called in to work a fire if we were shorthanded."
"You probably never knew this," she said softly. "But I've always had a thing for firemen."
Her hair tickled his neck. When he brushed the errant lock aside, he accidentally touched her forehead. Her skin was velvety soft and once he started touching her, he found he couldn't stop.
His fingertips traveled over her brow, her cheeks and her lips—which turned up. "Are you practicing Braille?"
"Just exploring the terrain. Would you rather I didn't?"
She didn't answer right away. “May I touch, too?"
The question was low and sexy and made his body respond like a teen on his first date. She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she turned all the way on her side and put her hand flat on his chest.
Knowing she could probably feel the thudding of his heart made him nearly as embarrassed as he was horny. "Alexa, you're starting something you might not want to finish."
Alexa stilled, processing his words. Not a question--an out. Even now, with so much baggage between them and a future as shaky as a house built on quicksand, he put her first. And she loved him for it.
“I should probably admit that I invited you here on false pretenses. Yes, I crave the safety your presence provides, but I want more than snuggling, Mark. I want to escape.”
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