And Then Came You

by Maureen Child

  “It was right for Emma,” Jeff said.

  She laughed shortly and risked a glance at him. “Sure, you can say that. You’re the one who raised her.”

  “Are you really sorry that she came to me?”

  Sam thought about it for a long minute, then shook her head again. As hard as it was to know that he’d had all the years with their daughter that she had missed, Sam knew that the truth was a simple one.

  “No. If she’d gone to someone else, I never would have met her like this. Never would have gotten to know her. Or had the chance to love her face-to-face.” She turned to face him and read understanding in his deep blue eyes. Her heart eased a little with that and she was surprised to find that it actually mattered to her, what Jeff thought of her decision.

  “I wish I’d known. Wish I could have helped you back then.” He lifted one hand and smoothed her hair back from her face.

  Sam shivered at the touch of his skin on hers. Warmth trickled through her, easing back the chill that clung to the edges of her soul. His fingertips trailed down the side of her face, sculpting the curve of her cheek and the line of her jaw. She inhaled sharply and held it, telling herself that he was simply trying to comfort her. To ease an old pain.

  But even she didn’t really believe that. There was more here. How much more she didn’t know. Didn’t think she should explore. But her body wasn’t listening to her head and she found herself leaning toward him. She inhaled the scent of his cologne, a dark, rich fragrance that seemed to lift in the wind and reach for her.

  His fingers dipped beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. His gaze moved over her features with an intensity that turned the simmering fires within into raging infernos.

  “I wish,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of sound that barely carried over the crashing thunder of the ocean, “we could go back.”

  “But we can’t,” she whispered. No matter how many times she’d wished that herself over the last couple of weeks, she knew there was no changing the past. All they could do was live with it, try to make peace with it and the choices they’d made. “There’s no going back, Jeff.”

  He nodded slowly, still staring into her eyes as though trapped there. “No. You’re right. No past, then. No future. Only now.”

  And then he kissed her.

  The man had a head like solid concrete.

  Why did she find that so attractive?

  Grace smoothed her hair, smiled to herself and walked a bit farther from the crowd of people. She didn’t look back. She knew very well that Hank Marconi would be right behind her.

  He didn’t disappoint.

  “Grace, I’m too old for this nonsense,” he muttered, once they were out of earshot.

  She stopped beneath the shade of a maple tree that had been standing on the property for more than a hundred years. Above her head, the leaves rustled gently in a puff of wind and sunlight peeked through the thick greenery to lie in lacy patterns of shade across the grass. Summer was just getting started and she was already having so much fun.

  “Oh Henry, you’ll never be old.”

  He flushed, his darkly tanned skin going a bit red in the cheeks and she wasn’t sure if the heat was to blame or if it was her compliment. His gray hair and beard were neatly trimmed and his pale blue eyes sparkled even as he shook his head and his index finger to boot. “You’re skipping around the point, Grace.”

  “Not at all. Everything is going along nicely, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And we’re enjoying each other’s company?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “Then there’s no reason for anything to change, is there?”

  He blew out a frustrated breath and looked around behind him, checking to make sure they were still as alone as they could be in a compound filled with people. When he turned back to her, he said, “You’re a hardheaded woman, Grace.”

  She smiled, glad he was willing to let their argument end. She’d come to care for him quite a bit, but she wasn’t ready yet to test the strength of their relationship by letting his children—and the rest of the town—in on it. Besides, there was something very . . . sexy about a secret love affair.

  Still smiling, she stepped past him, out of the shade, back toward the lively crowd. And as she passed, she said, “That’s why you love me, Henry.”

  Jeff had been hungry for the taste of her for days. She was in every dream, every waking thought. The essence of what she was, who she was, was with him at all times. Taunting him with thoughts of what might have been. Reminding him at every turn just how much he’d given up. How much he’d turned his back on.

  As his mouth came down on hers, he poured everything he was into the kiss. Her mouth gave to him as she fell into the moment, the emotion. Then she sighed into his mouth and it was like a benediction.

  She was everything.

  And he was a damn fool.

  Sam knew she should stop him.

  Wasn’t her brain shrieking at her to do just that?

  Unfortunately, her body just didn’t give a flying damn.

  Wind raced, waves crashed, heart raced, and hormones stood straight up and danced.

  She leaned into him, surrendering to the instantaneous burst of heat lighting up her insides like a neon sign in a Vegas night. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held on, pressing herself into him, wanting suddenly to feel every inch of him melting against her.

  Over the thundering beat of her own heart, she heard someone moan and was pretty sure it had been her. Oh God. She was lost. This wasn’t a memory. This wasn’t even the same kind of kiss she remembered. This was more.

  Because they were more.

  Older, but no wiser.

  Her lips parted for him and the first hungry swipe of his tongue took her breath away. She sighed into him and he gave her his breath in exchange. His arms folded around her middle like iron bands, holding her tightly to him, as if he were afraid she’d suddenly bolt and make a dash for it.

  But she couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to.

  And she didn’t want to.

  Oh God, this was what she wanted.

  What she’d wanted from the first moment she’d opened her front door and found him standing on the porch. Even when she’d wanted to brain him with a hammer. Even when she’d shouted at him and cursed him. Even then, everything in her had been racing toward this moment, whether she could admit it aloud or not.

  He groaned and pressed her more firmly against him, taking her mouth, plundering her as if his life depended on his being able to taste as much of her as possible. And still it wasn’t enough.

  His hands slid up and down her spine, exploring, defining every curve, and she wriggled against him, wanting the exploration to go farther, deeper.

  Sensations, feelings, coursed through her body and Sam let them run riot. It was better than thinking. Better than stopping to consider what the hell she was doing. Because if she did that, then she’d have to break away from him.

  And she knew she didn’t have the strength for that.

  His mouth tore from hers and slipped down her throat, kissing, tasting, nibbling. Her nerves jangled crazily and every inch of her skin felt alive with possibilities.

  Sunlight streamed down on them, adding even more heat to the tangled fury of the fire already engulfing them.

  “Sam.” He muttered her name thickly, in a voice choked with desire, with a hunger she recognized and shared.

  Two skateboarders barreled past them on the sidewalk, the steel wheels on their boards growling almost as loudly as their appreciative catcalls.

  “Oh baby!”

  “Go for it, dude!”

  “Oh God.” Sam pulled free of Jeff’s arms, and took a few shaky steps backward.

  Jeff, breath heaving, shot a murderous look at the two kids who were already far in the distance, their laughter drifting in the air like a helium balloon cast adrift.

  “I can’t believe . . .” Y
es she could. Of course she could believe it. Hadn’t she just been thinking that this was perfect? What she’d wanted from the get-go? Oh God, Mike had been right. She was going to get all sappy and hormonal over him again. And then what would happen to the grand plan of keeping Emma in her life?

  Lifting both hands, Jeff scrubbed his face with his palms, as if trying to wake himself out of a coma.

  Some coma, Sam thought.

  “I’m not sorry,” he snapped.

  “Who asked you?” she countered.

  “I figure I know you well enough to know that already you’re doing the ‘We shouldn’t have done that’ dance.”

  Sam bristled, since that’s exactly what she’d been doing, but she had no intention of letting him know that. “I told you. You don’t know me. I’m not the same person I was nine years ago. Any more than you are.”

  “You taste the same.”

  “Oh jeeezzz . . .” Shivers. Shouldn’t get shivers. Not a good sign. Dammit, Sam. Everybody makes mistakes. But you could at least have the sense to make different mistakes.

  “I want you.”

  She flicked him a glance when she was fairly certain she wouldn’t self-combust by meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I got the picture.”

  “You want me, too.”

  Hard to deny that one.

  “Okay, yeah. I do.” He took a step closer and she held up one hand. “But I also want chocolate to be labeled a diet food. So I guess I’m just doomed to disappointment.”

  “You don’t have to be,” he said tightly, and she could hear what this was costing him in the thickness of his voice. She felt the tension simmering off him in vicious waves that reached for her, tempting her back into the circle of his arms.

  Oh boy.

  Nope. Stop. Think.

  “Did you forget a little something?” she demanded, walking a wide path around him as she headed for town. For Main Street. For crowds.

  Man, did she need the safety-in-numbers thing right about now.

  “Huh?”

  “Your fiancée?” Sam reminded him, turning around to face him while continuing to walk backward. “You remember. Cynthia? Blond? Big boobs?”

  His mouth, his fabulous mouth, flattened into a grim line. And his dark blue eyes shuttered. “Right.”

  “How quickly they forget,” she muttered, disgusted, but still unwilling to look away from him.

  “I didn’t forget, I just—”

  “What?” she demanded, throwing both hands high and wide. “Decided to go for the gusto? After all, it’s not every man who can bed his fiancée one night, then zoom to another city and boink his wife the next night!”

  “Who said anything about boinking?”

  “Nobody,” Sam said. “It was implied.”

  “It was a kiss.”

  That stung, even though she recognized it for the lie it was. She could see the truth in his eyes, feel it practically vibrating in the air around him.

  Typical that he should deny it.

  Even to himself.

  “It was way more than a kiss, babe,” she said, lifting one hand and pointing her index finger at him. “And you know it.”

  “So you admit it.”

  Her mouth snapped shut. Then she opened it again and snapped it closed one more time. Somehow or other, while she’d been doing all the talking, he’d laid a trap and she’d stumbled right into it.

  He took two quick, long strides and caught up to her at the edge of the cliff park. Behind her, Chandler was going about its everyday life. Tourists wandered the sidewalk, stores did bumper business, and car horns honked in frustration. But here, on this small slice of grass, she was staring up into the eyes of a man who knew her past, shaped her present, and was still holding her future in doubt.

  “I’m not admitting anything.”

  “Too late.” He grabbed her hand. A small, tight twist of a smile curved his lips, then flattened again before she could get used to it.

  “Let go.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “I mean it, Jeff.” She kept her voice down, because hey, when a Marconi started shouting, there’d be no stopping and who needed the whole town as a witness?

  “I’m feeling something for you.”

  “Duh.”

  He ignored that. “Something I don’t want to feel.”

  “Well, isn’t that the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  “Shut up, Sam.”

  She sighed. “Jeff, let’s just call this whole thing a mistake. A stumble on memory lane.”

  “That’d be the easy way.”

  A short, sharp laugh shot from her throat, but there was no humor in it. Hell, there was nothing funny about any of this. “Then we sure as heck won’t do it. We never did anything the easy way, did we?”

  He nodded grimly. “Not so’s you’d notice.”

  Carefully, gingerly, she wormed her way out of his grasp and took a step back, just for good measure. She considered it a small victory when he didn’t grab her again.

  This was all getting way more tangled up than she wanted it to be. She hadn’t expected that kiss. Had wanted it, sure. But hadn’t expected it. And now that it had happened, she didn’t know quite what to do about it.

  Sure, they were married.

  Technically.

  But technically he was engaged.

  So the only way to back up, emotionally and physically, was to slap a barrier down between them, and she knew just the way to do it.

  “I went to see a lawyer today.”

  Jeff’s gaze flickered, then shuttered, and she imagined this was just the steely-eyed look he used to keep the peasants in line at his family bank. Wow. Hadn’t taken long at all to change from lust bunny to danger man.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” she countered. “Why should you be the only one with a lawyer?”

  “I thought we were going to work this out between us.”

  “Yeah, well,” she said, “I figured I needed someone on my side.”

  “This isn’t a war, Sam.”

  “Yeah it is,” she said. “Just a bloodless one. So far.”

  “Doesn’t have to be this way.”

  The distance between them was lengthening. And she told herself it was for the best. Although a part of her already missed being held and kissed and wanted . . . there was no future there for her.

  “What way?” she asked. “The way where I get a say in what happens? Yes, it does.”

  “You could have trusted me.”

  Regret shone in his eyes and for just a minute or two, Sam wished it were different. That they were different. That there was no Polly Perfection waiting for him in San Francisco.

  She wanted, desperately, to be able to wipe out the last nine years. But that was impossible. Too much had happened. To both of them.

  “I guess that’s the bottom line, Jeff,” she said, and her voice held the sorrow she felt weeping within. “I don’t trust you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Her words hit him like a bunched fist.

  Breath still wheezing, body still on full alert, Jeff felt something inside him crack and he wanted to damn her for it.

  But how could he?

  Why the hell should she trust him?

  When she’d needed him most, he hadn’t been there.

  Okay, sure, his mother’s fine hand had seen to that. But he could have gone to Sam anyway. Could have forced a confrontation and gotten the truth out of her. Instead, he’d let his pride get in the way and so lost nine long years.

  And had anything really changed?

  Hell, he was engaged to another woman and he’d just groped Sam in public like a randy teenager hoping to score at a drive-in. Jeff shoved one hand through his hair, scraping his fingernails along his scalp. The added pain didn’t help any, but he figured he deserved it.

  Sam’s taste still lingered on his tongue.

  Just as her words still echoed in his mind.

  The pictures she’d d
rawn were so vivid, he could actually see her as she’d been, scared and alone. He felt as though he’d now been witness to Mama Marconi slowly dying. And he wished to hell he could step back in time and beat the crap out of his younger self.

  But that was as impossible as what was happening between them now.

  On the drive to Chandler from the city, he’d gone over and over everything Cynthia had suggested. That Sam wasn’t really interested in Emma, but only pretending, in order to keep up a good front for her family. He’d told himself she was wrong.

  Small consolation to know he’d been right. Yes, Sam really wanted Emma. And she’d hired a lawyer to help her in the fight.

  Which left them exactly . . . where?

  “Why is this so damn hard?” he wondered aloud.

  “It was always hard with us.”

  He stared down into those pale blue eyes and knew she was right. They’d never been easy together. But hadn’t that been part of the fun?

  Fun.

  Had he ever once had spontaneous, unplanned, just-for-the-hell-of-it fun with Cynthia?

  Frowning to himself, Jeff considered it for a long minute and realized that the answer was no. Strange now that he thought about it, but usually the times he and his fiancée spent together were carefully choreographed ahead of time. Cynthia had said more than once that she enjoyed the planning of an event as much or more than she did the actual event itself. Theater dates, dinners at fine restaurants, mapped-out-down-to-the-minute day trips or vacations, like the one they’d taken to Italy. Cynthia didn’t do spontaneous.

  And he’d never noticed enough to miss it.

  What did that say about him?

  About them?

  Hell of a time to think about this, he told himself as Sam continued to stare at him as if wondering where his mind had drifted off to. But dammit, could he help where he was when an epiphany struck?

  Jesus. Think, he ordered himself. Just think about this. Cynthia. Him. Relaxed, fun.

  Nope. No such animal existed.

  Maybe he might have realized it sooner if they’d been living together. But with Emma in the house, Jeff had decided to wait until they were married before Cynthia moved in. With the result being, they didn’t see nearly enough of each other.