by Jo Davis
Some women became more desirable with age and maturity. Studying Zoe Vines fifteen years after he’d last glimpsed her, he found this was definitely the case. The woman had to be pushing sixty, yet due to great genes and possibly an even better plastic surgeon, she didn’t look a day over forty-five.
Her lips turned up and she addressed him, a tad cool as she returned his scrutiny. “Mr. Salvatore, I’m afraid you have me and my husband at a disadvantage since we couldn’t place your name. We left few friends behind in San Antonio and none who would travel all this way to visit.”
Was she lying about not remembering him? If so, she hid it well. Julian’s gaze shot to Warren, who stood stony and mute, one hand braced on his desk. A flicker of something that might’ve been recognition—or malice—flared in those watchful eyes, there and gone.
He knows. Julian’s hands tightened into fists.
Having to face both of them at once shifted the odds for him, and he fought to regain his mental footing. Addressing both of them, he kept his tone even, carefully devoid of anger. “Mr. and Mrs. Vines, I mowed your lawn one summer fifteen years ago, when you lived in San Antonio.”
Her smile deepened and she shut the office door, gesturing to a seat across from her husband. “Sit down, please.”
He did, though it made him uncomfortable to have them standing over him.
Zoe went on, perching on the corner of her husband’s desk and crossing her arms. “We’ve employed a lot of temporary help over the years. They come and go, so you’ll forgive us for not recalling you when you couldn’t have been more than a boy.”
“I was almost sixteen,” he said quietly, blanching at the sudden flood of disjointed, horrible memories.
“Well, you’re certainly not a boy now and I don’t have all day to play guessing games,” Warren said gruffly, gaze narrowing. Slowly, he lowered himself to his chair. “Why don’t you tell us who you are and why you’re here?”
“I’m a firefighter with the Sugarland Fire Department, and my reason for being here dates back to that summer I was employed by your wife. First, I want answers. Specifically, I want to know why you allowed your son to get away with molesting me.”
Zoe paled. Warren’s rugged face flushed a deep crimson and he gaped like a landed trout. Evidently, the man wasn’t expecting such a direct challenge.
“Wh-what’s the goddamned meaning of this?” the older man sputtered. “Where do you get off barging in here making ridiculous accusations like those?”
“It’s not an accusation. It’s history.” Julian returned the man’s hard stare. “Do us both a favor and drop the pretense. A grown son getting into trouble for fondling a teenaged boy isn’t something a parent is likely to forget.”
For several long moments, Julian thought the man might lunge across the desk and strangle him. Zoe studied the floor, rubbing the arms of her silk blouse, her face a mask of regret. While her husband appeared on the verge of a stroke, it was Zoe who spoke gently.
“You’re right, and I apologize for not recognizing you before. Why don’t you share with us what you remember?” She raised her head and looked at him expectantly.
Grateful for a rational ear, he took a deep breath and began. “Derek was always kind to me that summer, stopping to chat, bringing me something cold to drink when I was parched from working.” Breathing and talking at the same time became a little difficult, his nerves trying to get the best of him.
“He was in his early twenties, rich, and on his way to success. Of course, you know that. But I think I idolized him somewhat, my being a poor, impressionable teenaged boy from the wrong side of the tracks, reveling in the attention he gave me, like an older brother I’d always wanted. You see, I had all older sisters, and my little brother was just a bratty kid to me at the time. Derek talked to me when no one else in my family could be bothered.”
Zoe’s full mouth curved into a small smile. “My son is, and has always been, very outgoing. He has a kind heart and a way with young people.”
Julian gave a bitter laugh. “I thought so, too. Until the day he slipped me a Mickey and I woke up naked in his bed.”
Zoe and Warren stared at him. For several seconds, he anticipated more angry denial, the venom to spew from both of them. Instead, Zoe surprised him by relaxing and heaving a sigh. “My God, I can’t believe no one ever told you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After all of this time, to realize you thought . . . this is incredible. Julian—if I may call you by your name—I think I can put your mind at ease. You actually passed out from heat exhaustion.”
“What?” He glanced between Zoe and Warren.
Warren cleared his throat, his defensive attitude calming somewhat. “It’s true.”
“Derek brought you to his room,” Zoe said. “He only removed your clothing because you were overheated, and he was trying to get you cool. I know all about it because Derek came to get me.”
“No,” he said hoarsely. “I remember being touched. All over.”
Hands, sliding over every inch of skin, but he couldn’t focus. Couldn’t fight. He felt sick, wanted to go home, but couldn’t speak.
Zoe’s husky voice brought him back to the present. “Derek was very worried, even bathed you with a damp cloth before fetching me. I was concerned and we set about trying to figure out how to get your mother’s phone number because we’d been stupid and had never considered needing it for an emergency.”
He blinked at her. “You? You were there?” he asked, what she said finally registering. He scoured his memory and . . . nothing. He couldn’t place her there, but then again, he didn’t remember much. Except the touches and feeling trapped in his own body. Could it be he’d been wrong? Was the new hope he felt because he wantedto be wrong?
He could confront Derek, but his entire being rejected the idea. Just as he didn’t want Grace anywhere near the man, the same held true for himself. Besides, he didn’t want Derek to realize Grace’s friend was the boy from all those years ago.
“Of course I was. I assure you, Derek did nothing inappropriate. You were very ill and we tried to help you. By the time we located your mother’s number and went back to check on you, you’d awakened and left. I called your mother, who wouldn’t say anything except you’d no longer be working for us. I was confused, as I’m sure you can imagine, but decided to let it go.” Reaching over, she squeezed his knee in a gesture of comfort, gazing at him in sympathy. “I’m so sorry you’ve carried the wrong idea with you all these years.”
“I told Mama what happened and she never said anything about you phoning or me getting heatstroke.” His head pounded with this new, startling information. Could it be true? Had his feverish brain taken a completely innocent kindness and made it into something frightening?
You were only a kid, and she sounds sincere.
“I told your mother what happened, but I see she refused to hear my explanation. Why would she, with you being so upset and not thinking straight? Your mother obviously wanted to support you, whether she believed your story or not. Would knowing I was worried have made things any better or changed your mind about what you thought happened at the time?”
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t think it would have. I just can’t understand how I could’ve been so wrong.”
A seed Zoe planted took root and began to grow, despite his effort to dislodge it. Dios, had Mama not believed him? Is that really why she swept the entire incident away, told him to forget?
“The human mind plays all sorts of nasty tricks on us, especially when we aren’t well,” she concluded.
Yes, it could. As a paramedic he knew the symptoms of heat exhaustion. Summer in San Antonio was like beachfront property in hell, and he’d been doing hard manual work all afternoon that day. He had been dizzy, a bit of a headache coming on, and the drink Derek provided could have been too little, too late. He’d passed out, become disoriented.
The rest could’ve happened exactly as Zoe s
aid. All very reasonable.
But then—No. Impossible.
He fixed Warren with a cold stare. “If that were true, then why did you threaten my mother into making sure I kept quiet about Derek?”
Warren’s amused bark of laughter rang hollow. “You can’t be serious.”
“She didn’t say it in so many words, but I know she was afraid of repercussions from you. She was terrified of what you might do to our family if I told the police.”
“Bullshit! Yes, she phoned me and I raised my voice, but I only defended my son from her wild accusations the same as any father would do! Any verbal threat she perceived was in the way of legal action on my part should your story prove just that, nothing more.”
“Then you don’t deny attempting to intimidate a single mother of six, a woman on a fixed income.” For that alone, he could kill Warren Vines.
“I merely protected my family,” Vines hissed. “Even now, you can’t recall what happened, and you might have destroyed our lives. What would you have done in my place?”
Julian’s anger didn’t dissipate, nor did the sick dread in his gut. They’d rendered him as helpless as he’d been fifteen years ago. Watching the man wipe a bead of sweat off his brow, Julian knew he had no proof they weren’t telling the absolute truth.
He wasn’t sure what he’d accomplished, coming here this way—aside from serving notice to the patriarch.
“Aren’t you glad to have such a horrible misconception put to rest? I, for one, am glad you stopped by,” Zoe said, sliding from her seat on the desk. Again, Warren subsided. Obviously, she was used to acting as a buffer for her husband’s temper.
Julian took his cue to leave, and rose. “Misconception. What a tame word for the crime that ruined my youth. That’s right, crime,” he emphasized, cutting off their protests. “Because it will take a lot more evidence to make me buy what you’re selling.”
Warren started out of his seat. “Now, wait just a damned minute—”
“No, you wait. Sit there and wonder whether I’ll discover you’re lying out your ass,” he said, low and dangerous. “And if I do? I’ll make you both wish you were dead.”
Turning on his heel, he strode out, half expecting a curse—or a sharp knife—to be hurled at his back.
Neither came.
In his car, he fumbled for his keys and started the ignition, hands shaking. Not from fear, but from the rush. He’d done it. Faced Warren and called him on his actions regarding Mama. Let him know the scared kid was gone, a man in his place.
As he drove away, however, an oily feeling slithered over his body.
Like maybe he should have let the past rest in peace.
Grace jumped at the knock on her door at five minutes before seven. She’d been jittery as a schoolgirl awaiting his arrival all afternoon, her talk with Kat doing a number on her head. The closer she got to a certain tall, dark, and handsome man, the more out of control she felt.
Ruthlessly squashing her nerves, she opened the door— and the sight of him dressed in dark pants and a sport coat, starched white shirt underneath, sucked out her brains.
His smile lit up like a beacon and those dark eyes danced, leaving no doubt how pleased he was at seeing her. He breathed something in a reverent tone in Spanish, too quickly for her to catch.
“What did you just say?”
He dipped his head in an almost shy gesture, then raised his gaze to hers again. “I said you’ll outshine the stars tonight.”
Touched, she reached for his hand, twined her fingers in his. “Thank you. I must say you look pretty darned handsome yourself.”
One cheek revealed a fetching dimple as he plucked at his jacket. “I clean up okay, I suppose. Beats smoke and grime, anyway. Ready?”
“You bet. Let me grab my purse and lock up.”
Taking care of it quickly, she joined him and they started down the sidewalk together, hand in hand. Funny how something as simple as holding hands could ground a person, make her feel as though all were right in the world. She enjoyed how everything about him was bigger, stronger, and being able to let down her guard was a nice feeling. His physical presence was intoxicating, and she wanted more. Wanted him closer, to crawl inside him and—
Her thoughts ground to a halt as he hit the button on his key-ring device to unlock his car. “You drive a Porsche?”
He grinned, obviously pleased that he’d surprised her. “You expected me to be some poor city grunt driving a ratted-out El Camino?”
“I—of course not, but . . .” She waved a hand, practically drooling over the sleek, metallic dark gray Porsche Cayman. “This is gorgeous.”
Opening the passenger’s door for her, he cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re dying to know how I can afford it.”
“No! I’d never ask such a rude question.” But he was right, dammit. She was too darned nosy for her own good.
Closing her door, he walked around and slid in the driver’s side, stuck the key in the ignition, and fired it up. The engine idled with a throaty, sexy purr—not unlike its owner’s.
“I’ve been a firefighter for almost ten years,” he said, pulling out of the parking space. “I’ve never been married. I’ve lived well without going overboard, worked extra shifts, saved my money. I mean, until now, I’ve never had anyone to splurge on.”
As he pulled onto the street, he shot her a look that could’ve melted iron at a hundred yards, leaving no doubt about his meaning. He intended to splurge now, on her.
She grinned, warming inside, deciding to tease him. “Well, in that case, I’m happy to help you out. I’m so hungry you may have to buy me dinner anddessert.”
Glancing at her, he laughed, a rich, throaty sound that made every nerve ending tingle in delight. As she studied his beautiful profile with his straight nose and high cheekbones, longish locks of raven hair falling over his forehead and brushing against his neck, her belly fluttered. She could easily become addicted to this man.
“You could’ve been a model,” she blurted, and immediately felt foolish. Good grief, she was getting as bad as her sister, spouting whatever silly observation was on her tongue.
“I don’t think so,” he said easily enough. But a hint of darkness crept into his tone. Pulling onto the highway, he merged with traffic. “Actually, that was suggested to me more than once when I was younger. The idea of using my body to make money left me cold.”
“I can understand that. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t, bella.”
The smooth accent made her shiver. God, she was hopeless. “I’m glad, because I meant it as a compliment.”
“I know, and thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused, wondering at the sudden reserve she sensed in him. “You’ve told me some about your job, but not why you chose the profession. Did you always know you wanted to be a firefighter?” she asked, steering them toward safer ground.
He smiled, a bit wistful. “Not originally. I wanted to be a cop, but Mama begged me not to. After several arguments, I finally gave in and decided becoming a firefighter would fulfill my desire to help people. Mama still wasn’t happy, though, since my job can be every bit as dangerous as a cop’s.”
“Which is why I’ll bet you didn’t call and let her know you got hurt, did you?”
“Are you kidding? She doesn’t know about me getting knocked out during the explosion a few months ago, either. The last thing I needed was Mama taking root at my place indefinitely, fussing and worrying herself half to death. She’s got enough on her plate being afraid for my brother on a daily basis.”
“I remember you mentioning him. What does he do that she’d worry so much?”
“Mama lost the argument with my hardheaded sibling. Tonio’s a narcotics officer for the San Antonio PD,” he said, love and pride evident in his voice. “He works undercover with the most dangerous criminals in the city. Mama’s not the only one who worries, but he’s a grown man, so what can you do?”
&nbs
p; “You could always encourage him to transfer to Sugarland. I’m guessing they don’t have nearly the crime rate San Antonio does,” she said. “Just a thought.”
“You know, I posed that very suggestion to him a couple of months ago, when he took a knife in the side from a dealer.”
“Oh, no! Was he badly hurt?”
“The wound wasn’t too deep, thank God. The ER patched him up and after a week of rest, he was back on the job, the idiot. Anyway, he said he’d think about moving here. Kind of depends on how Mama will react to the idea of her only other son moving hundreds of miles away.”
“After what happened, I’m sure she’d rather have him working in a safer environment. Besides, she survived your move, right?”
Julian sighed. “Yeah, I suppose she did.”
Okay, what was with the hint of sadness? “Why didyou move here?” The tension in his face, around his mouth, told her she’d struck a nerve. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. It’s just that . . . you obviously love your family very much, and from what I’ve gathered, you’re the only one who left home and moved so far away.”
He was silent for so long, she didn’t think he’d answer. When he did, his voice was quiet. Reflective. “Have you ever made a series of decisions based on a misconception, only to find out too late you may have been completely wrong? That this ghost who owned your soul possibly never existed at all, except in your head?”
She considered this, and nodded. “Yes, but only on a small scale, day-to-day stuff like a family squabble or a misunderstanding at work. Sounds like you’re referring to a major, life-altering event—and whatever it was drove you far from the only home you’d ever known.”
“Oh, Grace, you have no idea.” He shook his head and put on a casual front. “But hey, let’s not talk about this now. I promised you a nice evening, and that’s what you’re going to get.”
“But—”
“Later, querida.”
Grace snapped her mouth shut. The lawyer in her knew when to hold her tongue and wait, and she sensed Julian was about ready to crack. He wouldn’t be pushed on this, and when he needed her, she’d be there for him.