“You need kissing,” he said.
“And you need taking down a notch.”
“You going to be the one to do it?”
“Maybe.” They’d inched even closer, and now stood belly to belly, chest to breasts. How easy it would be for Allie to forget the past and go with the moment. Remember the way things used to be. The way she’d always dreamt they could be.
She wanted him to kiss her. Desperately.
Understanding why was out of the question when the heat of his exhalations brushed her upper lip, teasing her, taunting her, placing her on a time machine straight back to her sweet little rented house and all the places they’d christened in their own special way.
He smoothed his hands along the curve of her hips.
She flattened her palms against his chest, wondering at the solidity. The strength. His heart wasn’t racing, but was beating slow and steady.
She licked her lips and ducked her head slightly before raising it. Incapable of focusing, thinking, of anything but his mouth. His amazing, sensuous, magical—
“Mom?” Cal asked. “Is dinner almost—eeuuw. What’re you two doin’?”
Caleb groaned.
“That was my friend Clara on the phone,” Cal said. “She was tellin’ me about our science fair project.”
Allie pushed her fingers into her hair. When had the phone rung?
“What’re you making?” Caleb asked their son.
“I’m thinking a volcano. Or seeing how long it takes for bread to grow mold.”
“My sister went to the state science fair two years in a row,” Caleb said, setting the salad bowl on the kitchen table.
“What’d she make?” Cal asked.
Caleb laughed. “Honestly? Don’t have a clue. She’s coming for Halloween, though, so you can ask her yourself.”
“Really?” Cal asked. “How old is she?”
“Thirtysomething. I forget her exact age. She does have a six-year-old daughter, though. Plus, a baby girl.”
“Man…” Cal shook his head. “That’s an awful lot of girls.”
“She has a husband, too. And you’ll get to meet your granddad and another uncle.”
Taking the chicken breasts from the broiler, Allie felt a little faint. Whatever happened to her being in on the decision on whether or not Gillian and her family came for a visit?
“Mom?” Cal asked. “Do you know all these people?”
“Most,” she said, setting the chicken on the table.
“They nice?” he inquired.
“I always thought so,” she said. “Ready to eat?”
“Guess I messed up,” Caleb said out of earshot of their son. “I meant to get your okay about my family descending on your corner of the world, but guess I was so excited by the prospect, I forgot. Sorry.”
She’d been all set to be angry with him, but one look at his handsome face parted by a goofy, boyish grin, and unfortunately, she was right back to wanting to kiss him! Not to mention explore more of that mystery topic he’d teased her about!
“It’s okay,” she said. “Guess we might as well get it over with.”
“That how you really feel?” he asked, helping her gather salad dressings and the salt and pepper on the way to the table. “Like meeting my family is a hardship? Something not to be enjoyed, but dealt with?”
“You guys are boring,” Cal said. “Can I go eat in front of SpongeBob, then do my knitting?”
“No,” Allie said.
“Sure,” Caleb said.
“Thanks, Dad!” Seeing how he held his plate in one hand, Cal gave his father a one-armed hug before dashing off to the TV.
Allie pulled out a chair at the table and all but collapsed, cradling her forehead in her hands.
This was getting out of control.
Her son’s lack of discipline.
Her attraction to Caleb.
For all practical purposes, her entire life!
Caleb joined her at the table. “I’d appreciate you staving off your nervous breakdown long enough to answer my question.”
“That was uncalled for,” she said, nodding toward the blaring TV.
“And your trashing my family was A-OK?”
“I don’t want to do this,” Allie said. “I can’t keep up this fighting. Not when I’m facing Francis every day.”
“So you tell me then, Al. What do you want to do? I mean, here I sit, trying to bring us closer, but the vibe I’m getting from you is that you’d feel better if we’d have just stayed apart.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “I never—”
He leaned in close, violating every last remaining millimeter of her personal space. “You never lied to me? Telling me you’d lost our baby, when in reality, you were healthy as a freakin’ ox and planning on carrying it full term without me. Planning on raising him without me. You gonna even try denying that if I hadn’t ended up in Calumet City by assignment, that you never would’ve searched me out?”
Jaw hardened, fingers clenched, she asked, “What’s it going to take for you to once and for all forgive me?”
“What’s it gonna take?” he shot right back. “You finally marrying me. Promising to never—ever—run out on me again.”
After all this time, after all of her hoping and praying, he’d said the “M” word. But him essentially telling her they’d be married was hardly the dreamy proposal she’d longed for. It didn’t mean anything. Not really. Certainly not that he was willing to abandon his dangerous career.
She looked at him, desperately searching for something indefinable in his expression. Was he madly, deeply in love with her, only too shy to admit it?
Judging by the flinty edge to his normally warm eyes—no. This wasn’t about timidity, but pride. Wounded male pride over her having run off with his son, and now, Caleb didn’t want her so much as he wanted Cal.
Finding it unfathomable to stay in this kitchen—this world—with the man she’d once so deeply loved a second longer, Allie scraped back her chair and bolted up the stairs.
“Aw, hell,” Caleb muttered, escaping his own chair to chase after her.
Chapter Seven
Caleb found Allie lying on her stomach on her bed, crying her eyes out.
He was the reason.
He was a jackass.
“I’m sorry,” he said, climbing in beside her, spooning her as best he could. “I’m so damned sorry.” When she said nothing, but had at least quieted her sobs, he said, “Do you have any idea what it did to me, Al? Going to your house—our house—that Friday night, only to find it empty? It didn’t just hurt me, it destroyed me.”
She broke his hold to roll over to face him. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her makeup a mess. And still, she was beautiful. His. Just as she’d always been. And if he had anything to say abut it, she would be his again.
“I’ve apologized for that,” she said, voice wobbly and thin. “Not just to you, but your family, over and over a thousand times in my head. I was young. Stupid. Scared. Proud. I’m not saying that excuses me…my actions. Just that’s how it was.” She reached out to him, toying with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Back then, I loved you so much. Maybe too much. When I found out I was carrying your child, I should have been upset and overwhelmed, but truthfully? Caleb, I was elated. All I could think of were the brilliant careers we had ahead of us. The wonderful life spent raising our little boy or girl. We could’ve have had so much fun, but you threw it all away.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “I asked you to marry me.”
“No—you told me you’d make it right. There’s a huge difference.”
“Bull.”
“Think what you want,” she said. “I saw the truth in your eyes. You didn’t ask me to marry you, and I knew you didn’t love me enough to give up your damned dangerous job. What if we had gotten married and lived happily ever after, only then you galloped off to work one day and didn’t come home?”
“People d
ie, Allie. Lawyers and bakers and—hell, I don’t know. Brick layers.” A muscle annoyingly ticked in his clenched jaw. “You can’t live your life in fear.”
“Who says?” she shrieked. “Who named you the Fear Police?”
“Fear Police?” He couldn’t help but grin. And then she was grinning, too. And he pulled her hard against him, planning to tell her by the strength of his hold just how much he cared.
Cared, yes.
But did he love her the way she deserved to be loved? At one point in their relationship, unequivocally, he’d loved her to that degree.
Once.
Nine years ago.
Did he still love her? He wished he knew.
He was attracted to her. But was that enough to base a lifelong marriage on? And as much as he owed it to his son to legitimately give him his last name, didn’t he also owe it to him to promise to stand by him, as well as Allie, till death do them part? If Caleb was anything, he was loyal. He knew how to stick with something whether it be an assignment, family member or friend.
This marriage thing was different.
His entire life, spent with a woman who’d already destroyed him. If she pulled up and left town again, this time with their son, Caleb wouldn’t survive it.
Her voice soft, scratchy and vulnerable, she said, “Your family, and anyone else you care to invite for Halloween is welcome in my home.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Even Giselle?”
“STILL GONNA DO Captain Underpants for your book report?” Cal asked his best friend, Sam. He’d have rather asked at school instead of over the phone, but his stupid mom still wouldn’t let him go.
“Nah,” Sam said. “I have to switch to a bigger book ’cause Mom says there’s too many pictures in that one.”
“Sorry. That sucks.”
Sam asked, “You still gonna do that alien book?”
“I want to,” Cal said, spinning in his mom’s big office desk chair. “But Mom says it’s too scary.”
“What’s your dad say?”
“He’s cool with it.”
“Man,” Sam said, “you gotta get them married so your dad’ll be around all the time to make your mom be nice all the time.”
“Really?” Cal asked.
“That’s what Clara says. And Reider says Clara likes you likes you, so I know she wouldn’t lie.”
“Eeuuw!” Making a face that’d be worse than one he’d make while drinking maggot blood, Cal asked, “She likes me likes me?”
“Yep.”
“Man.” Cal thumped his forehead on the desk. “I’ve sure got a lot of problems.”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Allie asked Caleb over lunch in her office. They’d ordered in Chinese from the restaurant at the end of the block. Cal was down the hall with his Uncle Adam and a couple of the other marshals, who weren’t standing guard at either entrance to her chambers.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he said, drizzling sweet and sour sauce over her pork.
“Thanks.” Grinning, she shook her head. “How’d you know I needed more?”
“You always did when every molecule of your rice wasn’t orange. Sorry, I was on autopilot, assuming you still do the same.”
“I do,” she said after taking another bite. “Funny, huh?”
“What?” he asked, watching her bite the corner off a soy sauce packet, then squirt it on his beef broccoli. Mmm…The naughty things she used to do with those pearly whites. “Oh—thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She took a napkin from the pile in the center of her work table to wipe brown liquid from her fingers. Darned shame—her wasting good sauce on a napkin when he could’ve licked it off! “Don’t you think it’s weird how we remember so much about each other? So many goofy things. When we’re not fighting, it’s like we’ve never been apart.”
“What do you think it means?” he asked.
“Not sure,” she said. “But if you’d ask my mom, she’d no doubt tell you it’s a sign I never should’ve left you in the first place.”
“How’s she doing?” he asked, helping himself to a bite of her pork.
“Great. Always busy with some new hobby or her garden. Her latest passion is refinishing antiques.”
He winced. “Sounds more like torture than fun.”
“What? The Flea Market King wouldn’t like fixing up old furniture?”
“Hey, I just buy the stuff. What happens to it from there is woman’s work.” He winked.
She landed a playful slug to his shoulder.
“Seriously, how about inviting your mom for Halloween, too?”
Allie froze. “You think?” It would be tough facing Caleb’s family. Having her mom there beside her would be a comfort. Wouldn’t it? Or would she for once give voice to the disapproval Allie knew she felt?
“Sure,” Caleb said. “Why not? It’ll be good for everyone to get to know each other.”
“Okay, then, thanks,” she said, warmed that he’d thought of including her mom in what would hopefully, after some understandable initial awkwardness, be a fun occasion.
“Wonder what my mom would have thought of our situation?” he asked.
Allie’s pulse was suddenly racing, as she wasn’t all that sure she wanted to know. “Your mom would probably be furious with me for keeping her grandson from her all these years.”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “I think she’d be mad at me for not going after you. Moving heaven and earth to bring you home.” He swirled his food with his fork. “Mom was real big on family.” With a wistful chuckle, he said, “I think she’d planned all of our weddings by the time we were five. Lots of themed stuff. Beau was supposed to have a Valentine’s Day ceremony. I was St Patrick’s Day. Gillian got Christmas and Adam the Fourth of July.”
“Did Gillian follow through with your mom’s plan?”
“Nah. But in reverence to her, she did put a sprig of mistletoe on a special place setting at her head table.”
“Aw, how sweet,” Allie said. “Hearing that makes me like Gillian more—and your mom. I’m sorry you lost her.”
“Me, too,” he said. “She was a great testament to the song, ‘Only the Good Die Young.’”
The sadness in Caleb’s eyes had Allie saying the first thing she could think of to get his mind on a more cheerful subject. “Aren’t these walls the ugliest, most dingy color you’ve ever seen?”
He glanced around the room. “If you say so. Can’t say as I’ve ever noticed.”
She laughed. “That’s a man for you.”
“Hey, watch it. I’m a great decorator.”
“Okay then,” she said, setting down her fork. “What color would you paint this room?”
“I don’t know,” he said around another bite of her lunch. “White?”
Making a buzzer sound, she said. “Try again.”
“Brown? Blue? Red?”
“No, no and no. Jungle-green might be nice. Or a rich, vibrant cobalt.”
Making a face, he said, “What’s tha—”
The office door burst open. “Caleb,” Bear said. “We got trouble.”
He was instantly on his feet. “Cal?”
“Right here.” Bear shuttled the boy into the room.
Caleb kissed Allie’s forehead, then the top of his son’s head, then left the room, locking the door behind him.
“What’s going on?” Cal asked, the sage green eyes that matched his father’s, wide, questioning and worried.
“Don’t know,” Allie said, pulling him into a hug. “Guess we’ll just have to sit tight till Caleb comes back to tell us.”
If he comes back.
Oh god. She blinked back the sudden tears. She didn’t want Caleb out there in the line of danger. He should be in here, safe with them.
Is this what it would be like being married to him? Living in a perpetual state of fear? If she felt this awful, what was Cal going through?
“You okay, baby?” she asked, stroking his fine dark hair.
/> “I’m not a baby,” he said, wriggling away. “You got any more sweet and sour stuff? I’m still hungry.”
“How can you be hungry at a time like this?”
“Like what?” He was already helping himself to the contents of her plate.
“Cal? What’s the matter with you? Your dad is in danger at this very moment. Thank goodness everyone else went out for lunch. Who knows what could be happening out there? People shooting or rioting or who knows what.”
“Mom, you need to chill. Caleb’s a marshal. He’s got a gun and stuff. He knows what to do if anyone shoots at him.”
After a few loaded seconds of staring at her suddenly wise son with her mouth wide open, Allie pulled herself together. Wow. When had her son gotten so mature?
Allie had a long time to ponder her question as it was an hour before she heard a knock. She scrambled up from her uneasy perch on the sofa, running for her office door. “Caleb?”
“Sorry,” Adam said. “Just me.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged.
“Make a guy feel welcome,” Adam said with a crooked grin. Was that a good sign? Surely he couldn’t smile if—
“I’d make you feel welcome,” she said. “If you’d just—”
“My dad okay?” Cal asked.
“Yeah.” Adam patted the boy’s head. “Just caught up in paperwork. He’ll be at the house later.”
“Cool,” Cal said, bounding back to his Legos. “Told you so, Mom.”
“Told you what?” Adam asked.
“Just that I shouldn’t be worried about Caleb.” Allie hugged herself. She was suddenly freezing, and more than a little shaky with relief. “That he knows what he’s doing. He’s good at his job.”
Adam laughed. “You needed a kid to tell you that?”
Allie made a face at him before grilling the brother of the man to whom she was growing dangerously attached for details on exactly why Cal and her had been locked in her office for a big chunk of the afternoon.
“’BOUT TIME YOU GOT HERE,” Allie said to Caleb as he strolled into the living room. It was nine-thirty. The meat loaf dinner she’d prepared for him had long since dried out, and their son had gone to bed.
Marrying the Marshal Page 8