by Lori Foster
The other picture was of her father, sitting in a straight-backed chair, with Lizzy behind him. She had one pale hand on his shoulder; neither of them were smiling. Her father looked tired but kind, and Lizzy had an endearing expression of forbearance, as if she’d hated having the picture taken. She was older in this one, probably around seventeen. She was just starting to grow into her looks, he decided. Her freckles were more pronounced, her eyes too large, her chin too stubborn. Added years had softened her features and made them more feminine.
As Gabe went to replace the framed photograph on the shelf, he caught sight of an album. Curious, thinking to find more pictures of her and her life, Gabe picked it up and settled into the sofa. A folded transcript of her grades fell out. As he’d suspected, Lizzy was an overachiever, with near perfect marks in every subject. She’d already received recognition from the dean for being at the head of her class. He shook his head, wondering how anyone could take life so seriously. Then he opened the album.
What he found shocked him speechless.
There were numerous clipped articles, all of them focusing on her mother’s death. They appeared to be from small hometown papers, and Gabe could relate because of all the fanfare he’d gotten in the local papers when he’d stopped the runaway boat.
Only these articles didn’t appear to be very complimentary. Keeping one ear open for signs of Lizzy’s return, Gabe began to read.
Girl fails to react: Eleanor Parks died in her car Saturday night after being forced off the road by a semi. The overturned car wasn’t visible from the road, and while Elizabeth Parks escaped with nonfatal injuries, shock kept her from seeking help. Medical authorities speculate that, with timely intervention, Mrs. Parks may well have survived.
Appalled, Gabe read headline after headline, and with each word, a horrible ache expanded in his heart, making his chest too tight, his eyes damp. God, he could only imagine her torment.
Daughter Slow to React: Mother Dies
Unnecessary Death—The Trauma of Shock
Daughter Stricken with Grief—Must Be Hospitalized
Father Defends Daughter in Time of Grief
What could it have felt like for a twelve-year-old child to accept the guilt of her mother’s death? Not only had she lost the one person she was likely closest to, but she’d been blamed by insensitive reporters and medical specialists.
Feeling a cross between numbness and unbearable pain, Gabe carefully replaced the album beneath the photos. He thrust his fisted hands into his pockets and paced. So this was what had her in such an all-fire tizzy to interview heroes. He grunted to himself, fair sick of the damn word and its connotations. How could an intelligent, independent woman compare her reactions as a twelve-year-old child to those of a grown man? It was ludicrous, and he wanted to both shake her and cuddle her close, swearing that nothing would ever hurt her again.
He swallowed hard against the tumultuous, conflicting emotions that left him feeling adrift, uncertain of himself and his purpose. When he heard her bedroom door open, he stepped away from the shelves and crossed the carpeted floor to stare at her with volatile feelings that simmered close to erupting. They weren’t exactly joyous feelings, but feelings of acute awareness of her as a woman, him as a man, of the differences in their lives and how shallow he’d been in his assumptions.
Lizzy, wrapped in a very soft, pale blue terry-cloth robe, widened her eyes at him and asked carefully, “Gabe? What’s wrong?”
It felt like his damn heart was lodged in his throat, making it hard to swallow, doubly hard to speak. He hated it, hated himself and his cavalier attitude. Gently he cupped her face in his palms and bent to kiss her soft mouth, which still trembled slightly with the urges he’d deliberately created. He’d thought to say something soothing to her, something reassuring, but as her mouth opened and her hands sought his shoulders, Gabe decided on a different approach.
He’d get Lizzy over her ridiculous notions of guilt. He’d make her see herself as he saw her—a sexy, adorable woman filled with mysteries and depth. And he’d make damn sure she enjoyed herself in the bargain.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELIZABETH FELT like she was floating, her feet never quite touching the ground. She said hello to the people she passed on the main street while heading to the diner to meet Misty and Honey Hudson. She hadn’t had much sleep the night before, having been too tightly strung from wanting Gabe and from the slight lingering discomfort of her sunburn.
Today it was a toss-up as to which bothered her more. Gabe had stayed an additional hour, but he hadn’t resumed the heated seduction. Instead, he’d been so painstakingly gentle, so filled with concern and comfort, it had been all she could do not to curl up on his lap and cuddle. He’d have let her. Heck, he’d tried several times to instigate just such a thing.
By the time he’d left and she’d prepared for bed, she’d been tingling all over, ultrasensitized by the brush of his mouth, the stroke of his fingertips, his low husky voice and constant string of compliments.
He thought her freckles were sexy. He thought her red hair was sexy. Oh, the things he’d said about her hair. She blushed again, remembering the way he’d looked at her while speculating on the contrast of her almost-brown brows and the vivid red of her hair, wondering about the curls on the rest of her body.
He was big and muscular and outrageous and all male. She’d already decided that if he was willing to begin an involvement, she’d be an utter fool to rebuff him. The things he made her feel were too wonderful to ignore.
When she entered the small diner, several male heads turned her way. They didn’t look at her as Gabe did, but rather with idle curiosity because she was a new face. She located the women, talking to a waitress at the back of the diner in a semiprivate booth. They all had their backs to her as she approached.
She was only a few feet away when she heard Misty say, “I think he’s dumbstruck by his own interest. She’s not at all the type of woman he usually goes after and he doesn’t know what to make of that.”
Honey laughed. “That’s an understatement. Sawyer told me Gabe started chasing the ladies when he was just a kid, and he usually caught them. By the time he was fifteen, they were chasing him.”
The waitress shook her head. Elizabeth recognized her as one of the women who’d been at the docks the day she’d first tracked down Gabe.
“That’s nothing but the truth,” the woman said. “Gabe can sit on the dock and the boats will pull in or idle by just to look at him. He always accepts it as his due, because it’s what he’s used to. I remember how he reacted when Elizabeth first showed up there. He didn’t like her at all, but then she didn’t seem to like him much, either, and I sorta think that’s the draw. He’s not used to women not gushing all over him.”
“I just hope he doesn’t hurt her. Gabe is a long way from being ready to settle down for more than a little recreation. But every woman he gets together with falls in love with him.”
Misty agreed with her sister. “He’s a hedonistic reprobate, but an adorable one.”
Elizabeth was frozen to the spot. She wasn’t an eavesdropper by nature, but she hadn’t quite been able to announce herself. In love with Gabe? Yes, she supposed she was halfway there. How stupid of her, how naive to think he’d be truly interested in her for more than a quick tumble. As the women had implied, he evidently found her odd and was challenged by her.
The differences between her and Gabe had never felt more pronounced than at that precise moment. Because she was so inexperienced, not just sexually but when it came to relationships of any kind, she knew she’d be vulnerable to a man’s attention. And Gabe wasn’t just a
ny man. His interest in her, no matter how short-term, was like the quintessential Cinderella story. Gabe was more than used to taking what he wanted from women, not in a selfish demand, but in shared pleasure. He’d assumed Elizabeth understood that, and that the enjoyment of playtime would be mutual. And it would be. She’d see to it.
A short, humorless laugh nearly choked her…and drew the three women’s attention. Elizabeth mentally shook her head as she stepped forward with a feigned smile. None of it mattered; she still wanted him, wanted to experience everything he could show her, teach her. She wanted to really truly feel once again. Since her mother’s death and the appearance of the harsh, dragging guilt, it seemed as if she hadn’t really been living, that anything heartfelt or lasting had been blunted by the need to make amends, to understand her weakness.
Her heart hurt, but pride would keep her from showing it. She’d accept Gabriel Kasper on any terms, and he’d never know that she dreamed of more. She’d enjoy herself, without regrets, without demands.
Despite her past, she deserved that much.
The waitress, looking cautious, indicated a chair. “Hey, there, Elizabeth. Remember me?”
Again, Elizabeth smiled. “Ceily, from the boat docks, right? Yes, I remember. I hadn’t realized you worked here.” She carefully lowered herself into her seat and nodded at both sisters. Honey and Misty looked guilty, and Elizabeth tried to reassure them by pretending she hadn’t heard a thing. “I hope I’m not too late?”
“Not at all,” Misty said quickly. Her baby was sitting beside her in the booth on a pumpkin seat. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought Amber along.”
Elizabeth leaned over slightly to peer at the baby. “How could anyone ever object to that darling little angel?”
When she’d been a young girl, still fanciful and filled with daydreams, Elizabeth used to imagine someday having a baby, coddling it as her mother had coddled her, but she’d set those fantasies aside when she’d accepted her shortcomings.
Misty beamed at the compliment. “Strangely enough, she looks just like Morgan.”
Ceily snorted at that outrageous comment. “Come on, Misty. I’ve never seen that little doll manage anything near the nasty scowl Morgan can dredge up without even trying.”
Honey laughed. “That’s true enough. But if Misty is even two minutes late to feed her, she has to contend with scowls and grumblings from both father and daughter. And I have to admit, they do resemble each other then. It sometimes seems to be a competition to see who can complain the loudest.”
Misty slid a gentle finger over her sleeping daughter’s cheek. “Morgan can’t stand it if she even whimpers, much less gives a good howl. I swear, he shakes like a skinny Chihuahua if Amber gets the least upset.”
Ceily made a sound of amused disgust. “I never thought I’d see the day when the brothers started settling down into blissful wedlock.”
Honey nudged Elizabeth, then quipped in a stage whisper, “Not that Ceily’s complaining. I think she’s the only female in Buckhorn County who isn’t pining for our men.”
Being included in that “our men” category made Elizabeth blush, but no one noticed as Ceily broke loose with a raucous laugh. “I know the brothers far too well. We’ve been friends forever and that’s not something I’d ever want to screw up by getting…romantic.”
“A wise woman,” Honey said, between sips of iced tea. “I think they all consider you something of a little sister.”
Ceily bit her lip and mumbled under her breath, “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” But Elizabeth appeared to be the only one who’d heard her.
Ceily took their orders and sauntered off. Elizabeth watched her surreptitiously, wondering just how involved the woman had been with the brothers. She was beautiful, in a very natural way, not bothering much with makeup or a fancy hairdo. She looked…earthy, with her light tan and sandy-brown hair. And Elizabeth remembered from seeing her in her bathing suit at the boat dock that Ceily was built very well, with the type of lush curves that would definitely attract the males.
She was frowning when Honey asked, “How’s the sunburn?”
“Oh.” Elizabeth drew herself together and shrugged. “Much better today. Your husband’s cream worked wonders. Would you thank him again for me?”
Honey waved away her gratitude. “No problem. Sawyer is glad to do it, I’m sure.”
Misty looked at her closely. “You don’t look nearly as pink today. I guess it’s fading fast.”
Forcing a laugh, Elizabeth admitted, “I can even wear my bra today without cringing.”
“Ouch.” Misty looked appalled by that idea. “Are you sure you should? This blasted heat is oppressive.”
It was only then that Elizabeth realized she was trussed up far more than Misty and Honey were. While they both wore comfortably loose T-shirts and cotton shorts with flip-flop sandals, Elizabeth had put a blouse under her long pullover dress and ankle socks with her shoes.
Deciding to be daring, she asked, “Does everyone dress so casually here? I mean, do you think anyone would notice if I wore something like that?” She indicated their clothes with a nod.
Honey laughed out loud. “Heck, yes. Gabe would notice! But then I get the feeling he’d notice you no matter what you wore. Watching him blunder around yesterday like a fish out of water was about the best entertainment we’ve had for awhile.”
Misty bit her bottom lip, trying to stifle a laugh. “Gabe teased both Sawyer and Morgan something terrible when they got involved with us. Now he’s just getting his due.”
“But we’re not involved.” Even as she said it, Elizabeth felt her face heating. She hoped the sisters would attribute it to her sunburn and not embarrassment.
“Maybe not yet, but Gabe’s working on it. I’ve gotten to know him pretty good since Sawyer and I married. He dates all the time, but he never mentions any particular woman. You he’s mentioned several times.”
Elizabeth didn’t dare ask what he’d said. She could just imagine. “I think I’ll buy myself some shorts today.”
“Good idea. This is a vacation lake. Very few people bother to put on anything except casual clothes.”
Ceily sidled up with Elizabeth’s drink and everyone’s food. Misty was having a huge hamburger with fries, but Honey and Elizabeth had settled on salads.
Misty made a face at them. “It’s the breast-feeding, I swear. I never ate like a hog before, but now I stay hungry all the time. Sawyer says I’m burning off calories.”
Honey pursed her lips, as if trying to keep something unsaid, then she appeared to burst. “I wonder if it’ll affect me that way.”
Misty froze with her mouth clamped around the fat burger. Like a sleepwalker she lowered the food and swallowed hard. “Are you…?”
Honey, practically shivering with excitement, nodded. Elizabeth almost jumped out of her seat when the two women squealed loudly and jumped up to hug across the table.
“When?” Misty demanded.
“In about six months. Late February.” Honey leaned forward. “But keep it down. I don’t want anyone else to know until I tell Sawyer.”
“You haven’t told him yet?”
“I just found out for sure this morning.” She turned to Elizabeth. “We hadn’t exactly been trying not to get pregnant, if you know what I mean, so it won’t be a shock. But I still think he’s going to make a big deal of it.”
Wide-eyed, Elizabeth had no idea what to say to that. She was…stunned that the sisters had included her in such a personal, familial announcement. She’d never in her life had close female friends. She’d always been too odd, too alone, to mix in any of the small groups in school.
But as it turned out, Elizabeth didn’t need to reply. Honey and Misty went back to chattering while they ate, and Elizabeth was loath to interrupt.
Finally, they wore down and simply settled back in their seats, smiling. The silence wasn’t an uncomfortable one, and Elizabeth found herself wondering about several things.
Honey touched her stomach with a mother’s love. “It doesn’t really matter to me. Amber is so precious—a girl would be nice. But then, Casey is such an outstanding young man that I think a son would be perfect, too.”
Using that statement to lead into another question, Elizabeth pulled out her paper and pencil. “Do the brothers have any sisters?”
“Not a one. They only have male sperm, to hear them tell it.” Misty had a soft, almost secret smile on her face. “Morgan calls Amber his little miracle.”
Honey sighed. “Sawyer even warned me before we were married that I should resign myself to baby boys. The way they dote on Amber, as if none of them had ever seen a baby girl before, is hysterical. I keep telling them she’s no different from Casey when he was an infant, but they just look at me like I’m nuts.”
Elizabeth grinned at that image. “In a nice sort of way,” she ventured cautiously, so she wouldn’t offend, “they seem a bit sexist.”
“Oh, they’re sexist all right! And very old-fashioned, but as you said, in a nice way. They insist on helping a woman whenever they can, but they’d refuse to admit it if they needed help.”
“Not that they ever do,” Honey added. “They’re the most self-reliant men I’ve ever seen. Their mother made sure they could cook and clean and fend for themselves.”
Misty leaned forward to speak in a whisper. “Morgan says all he needs me for is to keep him happy.” Her eyebrows bobbed. “You know what I mean.” Then she settled back with a blissful sigh. “But then he’ll show me it’s so much more than that. We talk about everything and share everything. He unloads his worries at night over dinner and he says he misses me all day when he’s working.”
“Do you still work here in the diner?”
“Part-time, just for the fun of it. It keeps Morgan on his toes. He has this absurd notion that every guy in town comes here to eat just to ogle his wife.” She laughed. “In truth, there’s not a guy around who would look for more than two seconds for fear of incurring Morgan’s wrath.”