Divorced, Desperate and Daring
Page 15
Danny took a deep breath. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. “Well, uh, I was . . . and it didn’t work out.”
“What happened?” Mrs. Lamb asked.
“Wanted different things,” he said and didn’t look back.
For some reason, he realized that the old feeling tied to his parents sort of resembled the ones he’d acquired from Tanya. Not liking the path his thoughts were headed, he turned around and put a smile on his face.
Mrs. Lamb smiled. “Well, lucky for Sheri now that you two found each other.”
He looked at Sheri and saw she wanted to correct the woman, but before she spoke up, he did. “Who’s ready for cake?”
• • •
Sheri reached for her napkin and twisted it in her hands. It was happening again. The feeling that she wanted to look harder at Danny Henderson—as if there was some wounded soul behind his good looks and charm.
Oh, that was dangerous, because the last time she’d felt it, she’d ended up spending the night with him at the hotel.
And waking up alone.
She pushed the feeling back, but it wasn’t easy.
Being a preacher’s daughter, she’d naturally inherited a need to save the wounded. Her time spent volunteering at the shelter and running their PR campaign for free was her way of doing her part. Not that it stopped her from wanting to take home every animal they brought in. As difficult as it was, there was only one time she just hadn’t been able to walk away. The day Taco came in, in such terrible shape, and she heard the vet say, “Do this poor beast a favor and put him out of his misery.”
Taco’s big ol’ brown eyes had met hers, and it was almost as if he was begging to be saved.
“Who wants milk?” Mrs. Lamb asked.
“Milk and cake,” Danny said. “I just died and went to heaven.”
His gaze met Sheri’s, and she saw it again, that flash of vulnerability. As if deep down, he needed to be saved, too.
Danny stood back up. “Where’re your glasses?”
“Second cabinet.” Mrs. Lamb stood up and reached for some colorful paper plates on the counter. She picked up a party hat and then looked at them. “Would you two mind posing for some pictures? I’d love to post them on Facebook. I told my sister who lives in Alaska I’d post some. She was worried I would be alone on my birthday.”
“I’ve got a million-dollar smile ready.” Danny pulled the milk from the fridge.
Mrs. Lamb handed both Danny and Sheri a party hat. “I’ll get my selfie stick. I love my selfie stick.”
“A . . . selfie stick?” Danny’s eyes widened, and he leaned in and whispered the question. “What’s a selfie stick? I mean, it sounds . . .”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Sheri bit her lip to stop from laughing and kicked him under the table.
His eyes went wider. “It wasn’t in the gutter,” he said, grinning. “But it is now.” He laughed, and she kicked him again.
He looked down at the hat. Sheri couldn’t help but smile when she saw his eyes show serious concern. Naturally, a big, bad detective would have an issue putting on a party hat with the Little Mermaid on it and posing for a picture.
“She doesn’t mean for us to . . .” He couldn’t even say it.
Sheri put her hat on. “Get out that million-dollar smile,” she teased.
“Oh, hell.” He looked back as Mrs. Lamb came in, wearing a party hat, with her phone already attached to a long contraption. “Selfie stick,” he said under his breath.
“Let me light the candles,” Mrs. Lamb said in a light voice that matched the happiness in her eyes. “Then we’ll see if we can get all three of us in the shot.”
“Why don’t I just take it of the two of you,” Danny offered. “That way we’ll be sure to get the cake and candles in, too.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Lamb said. “I want my sister to see I celebrated my birthday with a sexy young man.”
“Okay.” He paused. “Well . . . thank you.” He looked at the hat in his hand as if it was alive. “You don’t think the hat kind of downplays the sexiness?”
“Don’t be silly. It just shows that you know how to have a good time.”
No, Sheri thought. It showed his ego wasn’t as big as his heart. If he put that hat on and allowed Mrs. Lamb to photograph him, it was because he knew how much it meant to the elderly lady.
“You really want me to wear it?” Danny asked.
“It’s a party,” Mrs. Lamb said.
Danny put on the hat. And damn if he didn’t look dorky . . . and downright adorable.
It took Mrs. Lamb a good five minutes to get the candles lit and figure out the angle she wanted. The candles had almost burnt out.
“Move closer to Sheri,” Mrs. Lamb told him, looking up at the camera. “She doesn’t bite.”
“You sure?” he teased, and moved so close she felt his entire body up against her side. His hand came around her waist. His touch, soft and tender, sent bolts of emotion right to her chest.
“Okay, there,” Mrs. Lamb said. “I’m going to take a lot of them so we’ll get a few good ones. Smile.” The flash on her phone’s camera popped off. And off. And off.
Sheri felt Danny’s breath on her cheek. “You smell like sunshine and coconut,” he whispered.
Yeah, she’d gone with coconut-scented oil for her massage, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she kept her smile in place and her gaze on the lens and tried to keep her heart from committing emotional suicide.
When the photo shoot was over, Sheri moved away from him so fast she nearly tripped over a chair. Mrs. Lamb asked Danny for his Facebook info.
Sheri saw a touch of panic in his eyes but then he gave it to her. Well, he might have lied. She didn’t know his Facebook link—not since she unfriended him six months ago.
They ate carrot cake and drank milk.
She and Danny were about to walk out when Mrs. Lamb spoke up. “Oh, wait, I forgot your gift.”
Sheri’s mouth dropped open when the old woman handed her a present. “Mrs. Lamb, you didn’t need to do that. I haven’t been out to pick up yours.”
“Don’t be silly. You are always giving me gifts. Those books for my great-granddaughter.”
“But you’re always bringing me dinner.”
“That’s nothing,” the woman said and handed it to Sheri. “Open it up.”
Sheri did, and at first she didn’t have a clue what it was. It looked like a Barbie doll.
“Pull it out of the box,” the woman said.
Sherri pulled it out and couldn’t help but smile. It was a doll with a crocheted poufy dress, and under her skirt was a roll of toilet paper.
“It’s the toilet paper princess. I learned how to do them at my senior citizen class last month. You set it on the back of your toilet.”
“It’s lovely,” Sheri said and hugged her. “Thank you.”
The woman got tears in her eyes. “Thank you both for the wonderful party. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”
“It was my pleasure,” Danny said.
The woman hugged him, too. He didn’t freeze up like most men would do.
“Wait one second,” she said and ran back into her bedroom. She came out with another toilet paper princess and handed it to Danny. “This is for you. Consider it a party favor.”
“Well, that’s one fine party favor,” Danny said, and he even sounded genuine. “Thank you.”
They walked out, and he moved with Sheri to her porch. They looked at each other holding their gifts, and they both chuckled. Behind her front door, she heard Taco whimpering, wanting her to hurry inside.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For being so . . . agreeable in there.”
“I was with you, wasn’t I?” Tucking his toilet paper princess under his arm, he reached out and ran two fingers over her cheek. “I’d walk through fire just to see you smile.”
She looked down. “Don’t do this.”
“No. I . . . I’m so confused right now.” She looked up. He was so close she could see the stubble on his chin. “My head’s not on straight. I need to think . . . I need . . .” To work on my daddy issues.
He ran another finger over her lips. “Okay, while you get your head on straight, think about this.” He hesitated enough for her to pull back if she wanted to.
She obviously didn’t want to. She let him kiss her. Not an I-want-your-body kind of kiss, but a soft, sweet, let-me-in-your-life kind of kiss.
And for some reason, right now, that felt even more dangerous.
Chapter Fourteen
When Danny’s tongue slipped between Sheri’s lips, his taste was so wonderfully familiar she almost moaned. Part of her wanted to tell him it didn’t matter what he did. That she’d forgive him, because that’s what she was. A forgiver. Like she’d forgiven Kevin for calling off the wedding, twice, even when she suspected he was seeing someone else. Like she was going to forgive her dad . . . eventually.
And she would. She knew that.
She was just like her mom, who’d forgiven her dad for a lifetime of mistakes.
Pulling back, she put her fingers between their mouths. The thought running through her mind slipped out of her shaking lips. “The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, does it?” But God, she didn’t want to end up like her mom, accepting less than she deserved.
“What does that mean?”
“You need to go.”
He inched back a few steps but didn’t leave. Instead, they stood there on the porch, the only light leaking out of her living room window, both of them holding onto their toilet paper princesses.
“Damn it, Sheri! I didn’t do what you think I did.”
“You didn’t leave me at the hotel?” she asked, and a touch of sarcasm leaked into her voice.
He frowned. “Yes, I . . . I did that, but—”
This time she touched him. She put her fingers on his lips. And that was a mistake because the feel of his warm mouth, still damp from their kiss, sent tons of emotion right to her heart. She pulled her hand back. “Please, I just need . . . for you to go.”
He inhaled, and the sound of air filling his lungs seemed painful. “Just be careful. Don’t open the door to anyone.”
She blinked, and it took a second for his words to sink in. “But you caught the guy.”
“He hasn’t confessed yet.”
“Do they always confess?” she asked.
“No, but . . . just be careful.”
She shook her head. “No, I . . . Nobody hates me enough to kill me.”
He sighed. “If you get nervous, call me. I’ll rush right over.”
She nodded. He turned to leave but then swung back around. “Oh, I put a pizza in your fridge. And there’s chocolate croissants in a bag on your table.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I saw the lamp on the floor and I thought . . . That’s why I panicked.”
“Taco knocked it over when Mrs. Lamb knocked.” Sheri recalled sharing croissants with him this morning and then the memory of the middle-of-the-night pizza they’d shared months ago came raining down on her.
She swallowed. “You should take the pizza with you.”
“No. You keep it. It’s Canadian bacon and pineapple. It’s always better the next day anyway.”
Another thing they’d agreed on that night.
Their gazes met again, and she knew he was remembering it, too.
He turned to leave and then Sheri remembered. “Danny?”
“Yes?” Hope flashed in his eyes as if he thought she’d change her mind and ask him to stay.
But that wasn’t it at all.
“Can I have my key back?”
You’d think she’d slapped him. “Yeah.” He reached in his pocket, rubbed it between his fingers for several seconds and then put it in her hand.
“I’ll leave now if you promise me that tomorrow we can sit down and talk.”
She swallowed the hurt down her throat. “Danny, talking isn’t going to—”
“It will,” he said. “Give me an hour. That’s all I’m asking.”
She nodded, turned away from him and walked inside. Taco was waiting in the entryway. His big brown eyes stared up at her, and he rubbed his face against her hip as if he sensed her pain.
Locking the door, she leaned against it. Danny’s footsteps faded in the night. She slid to the floor and hugged her knees, and tears filled her eyes. Taco dropped down next to her, nuzzling her with his snout.
She glanced at the cabinet where the letter from her dad waited. “Not now.”
Pulling herself together and up off the floor, she fed Taco, texted Chloe and waited for the bath water to fill for a good after-massage soak.
Slipping her clothes off, she caught the scent of massage oil and remembered Danny telling her she smelled like coconut. How could the wrong person feel so right? Easy. Like her mom, she was simply attracted to men who . . . slipped up. And would continue to slip up as time went on.
Closing her eyes and sinking into the water, she tried to get her Zen back.
Thirty minutes later, she found herself chin deep in fading bubbles and lukewarm water. When she almost felt relaxed again, her phone rang. Popping up from the water, she snatched her pink robe—the same one Danny had used. Before she put it on, she brought the fuzzy material to her nose. Was it her imagination that his scent still lingered there?
The next ring brought her back, and she made a run for her phone on the bed. As she reached for the cell, she remembered the text from Mark. Oh crap. She probably should have told Danny. If it was Danny calling, she’d tell him.
But it wasn’t him. Was that disappointment whispering through her?
“Hi, Chloe.” Pushing her own concerns aside, she focused on her friend. “How is Nanny?”
“She’s better now, thank God. The doctors are shocked. She’s insisting they let her go home so she can take us to her pinochle competition tomorrow.”
Sheri chuckled. “I know you’re relieved.”
“I am. Mom’s on her way. So now I’m back to worrying about you.”
“Please, that’s yesterday’s news. My bad karma episode is over. I’ve asked forgiveness from the opossum saint.”
Chloe chuckled but sobered quickly. “Danny seems worried that they haven’t caught the right guy and you’re still in danger.”
And that was the reason Sheri wasn’t going to tell Chloe about Mark. Her friend had enough to worry about right now. She looked at the clock. It was after ten now, and Danny was probably in bed. And because she really didn’t think this had anything to do with her, she’d tell him about Mark’s text tomorrow.
“Sheri?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m in a daze. I just took a long bubble bath,” Sheri offered.
“When we get to Nanny’s, I’m gonna take a hot shower. I still smell like passion fruit. Cary’s been sniffing me all night. I think he’s hungry.”
“Probably not for food,” Sheri teased.
Chloe giggled. “Please. We’ll be at Nanny’s senior citizen condo.”
“So? She won’t be there.”
Chloe laughed. “I’d better go. Look, be careful. And listen to Danny. He really is trying to protect you.”
“I thought you wanted me to pepper spray him again.”
“Would you kill me if I said I’m having second thoughts?”
No, she wouldn’t. How could she blame Chloe, when she was having her own doubts? But giving in to those doubts was another thing all together.
• • •
Danny had come home, showered, and now lay in bed—buck naked. He’d laid there letting time pass, his phone on his bare chest, trying to decide his next move with Sheri. He wanted to call her, just to check
in, to make sure she was okay, to try to make her laugh so he could hear that musical sound.
But she’d told him to go home.
Damn, he had it bad. Closing his eyes, he heard her ask him: “You didn’t leave me at that hotel?”
He sat up and ran a hand over his face. His toilet paper princess sat on his dresser right now, reminding him of the evening with her. Of the kiss they’d shared. Of how soft she’d felt against him.
He’d almost given in to sleep when his phone rang. He reached for his cell, only to realize it was buried in the covers somewhere. It took four rings for him to find the damn thing. Afraid it would go to voicemail, he answered without checking the number and silently prayed it would be Sheri.
“Dan Henderson,” he said his official greeting and sat up, leaning against the headboard. Then his gaze shot to the clock. It was almost one.
“Danny.” A familiar voice, a male voice, sounded on the line.
“Yeah,” he answered, trying to identify the caller. He knew the voice, but his sleepy brain couldn’t place it.
“It’s Chase.”
“Yeah. What’s up?” he asked.
“You still have that Pain guy in jail?”
Danny ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, why?”
“Well, remember that bomb that went off in a UPS truck?”
“Yeah.”
“Our friendly FBI buddies finally pieced some of the package together, and it was addressed to a Sheri Thompson. They couldn’t get the whole address, but it looked like a Forest . . . something with a zip of 77029. Think Pain coulda sent it?”
Danny shot up off the bed. Forest? As in Forest Hill Condos where his Sheri lived? Fear went straight to his heart.
He grabbed his jeans and juggled getting dressed while holding the phone. “No, that’s not the Sheri Thompson he’s linked to!” His heart started pumping, and with each thump, an image of her smile flashed in his head. “I gotta go!”
He hung up, debated calling 911 but he knew he could be there faster. He yanked on a T-shirt, snagged the keys from his dresser and ran out.