“What kind of predicament?”
Krista took his hand and traced the lines on his palm. The simple touch sent volts of desire all through his body.
“Well, I don’t know how to say this delicately. I’m not the type to jump into things. Truth be told I’ve only ‘jumped’ twice in my life and once it wasn’t really jumping, more just dipping my toe. So this is kind of new territory for me.”
She paused and stared at him long and hard, her head still resting on the sofa. Then her lips drew back in a smile. “I’m talking us right out of this moment, aren’t I?”
“Honey, I won’t talk you into or out of anything. If we’re being honest, I’ve only jumped twice, too. So I guess that puts us on a level playing field.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was breathy and sexy, though he knew she wasn’t trying to be either. Somewhere beneath all the hardness and cynicism lay an innocent young woman just beginning to surface.
“So this is still strange to me. Maybe because it feels right,” Matt whispered. God he wanted her. He never, in a million years, would have thought he and Krista would be in this situation, sitting so close to each other on the sofa that their shared body heat rivaled the flames burning steadily in the fireplace before them.
On the verge of—what? Making love?
He lifted his hand to touch her face. Her skin was velvet soft. His finger traced over one of her scars, a long, thin white line that started at her parted lips and traveled toward her temple. She drew in her breath, and Matt thought she’d pull away. But she didn’t.
He could see trust, warm in her blue eyes.
A flash of remembrance dashed through his mind, of how she looked when he found her. The image was fleeting because the woman in front of him was more powerful than any memory.
“I’m scared of this,” Krista finally whispered. She eased his hand from her face and brought it to her lap, where she held it tightly.
“There’s nothing to be scared of, Krista. I won’t hurt you.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle this, and I’ll end up hurting you.”
Matt squeezed her hand and leaned in, brushing his lips over hers.
“I’m willing to take that chance,” he replied against her mouth.
He snaked his arms around her waist and shoulders and drew her closer until she relaxed across his lap. He reclaimed her mouth in a long, exploratory kiss, digging his hands deep into her hair. A flow of lava-like heat swept through him when her tongue slipped between his lips to intertwine and dance with his. He fed off her sweetness and fire.
Krista pushed her hand under his sweatshirt and tugged him closer as her body arched to him.
The swell of her breasts, firm beneath the heavy material of her top, pressed into his chest. He swept his hand smoothly under her shirt so he could feel her skin, the soft, curving flesh warm to his touch.
Krista gasped against their kiss when his hand cupped one lush breast. But the contact drove him on, added fuel to the way his mouth possessed hers. Boldly, he moved his thumb over the hardened peak, longing to taste her there. Yet her lips felt so good against his that he didn’t want to give them up.
She eased away. Cold air snuck in where her body had curved against him and he wanted her heat once more. She stood and turned to the fireplace. He didn’t ask, just stared at her, haloed against the orange glow, her hair tumbling in a disheveled mass down her back.
She placed two more logs on the fire, sending a spray of sparks drifting up the chimney, then crossed to the lamp next to the sofa and turned it off.
A hot thrill of expectation raced through Matt’s body.
Of course she could lean over, kiss him on the cheek and say goodnight. Instead she stood before him, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty, as if she were about step off a cliff into the unknown. She didn’t speak as her hands went to the first button of her top and slowly released it.
One by one, the others came undone until the shirt fell away, leaving an enticing view of her torso, creamy skin against the dark fabric. With the same deliberate movement, she pushed the shirt off her shoulders so it slid onto the floor behind her. Shadowy light revealed her full breasts, peaked with dusky, taut buds. Her shoulders were straight, her waist trim, sweeping into full hips that were still hidden beneath the pants she wore.
The scars made him frown. There were so many. He’d had no idea. An angry slash on her shoulder and arm, and one crossing over her belly. Another peeked above her waistband. What lay beneath, he couldn’t imagine.
No wonder she looked so scared. She believed her body to be flawed, yet she stood in front of him anyway, tall and brave. Waiting for him to either accept her or turn away.
He stood and crossed to her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. His beautiful, wounded bird, ready to fly. He wouldn’t let go. He was ready to jump in and embrace the desire that overwhelmed him for this woman.
Light and smell intruded on Krista’s wonderful dream. She snuggled deeper under the blankets, wanting the dream to come back, but it broke apart like a cloud of smoke in a breeze, becoming fainter until she could hardly remember what she’d been dreaming. She cursed the invasion of the real world until she realized the scent, a subtle mixture of cologne and skin and lovemaking, came from the source of the heat next to her.
Her body was cocooned by Matt’s, his arms around her, his hand loosely holding hers. His legs were tangled with hers. The memories of their night together came on stronger than the dream that had dissipated so quickly.
It had been beyond what she’d expected, making love to him. By the fire and again on the soft mattress of his bed under the blankets, he made her feel safe and special and more of a woman than she’d ever felt before. Drifting off to sleep in his arms had been one of the most incredible feelings, wrapped in his warmth, his breath on her skin.
She opened her eyes and glanced at his hands, still holding her. A ray of light glowed on his skin and fell away to the white sheet like a blaze.
Sunlight. Which meant morning.
“Oh my God.” She turned over to face Matt. He was still lost in sleep.
“Matt, wake up.” She shook his shoulder. “Come on, Matt, we’ve got to get up.”
She couldn’t find a clock in the room, but she could tell the sun was high. They had to get back to Quail Ridge for the open house.
Matt’s eyes opened into slits, and he smiled. “Good morning,” he whispered.
“We’re late. We’ve got to get going.” She pulled away before he got her meaning and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Realization changed his expression from sleepy contentment to full understanding as she tossed him a panicked glance and dashed out the door and to the room that was supposed to have been hers last night.
She grabbed the bag of clothes Matt had bought for her and yanked the garments out quickly. Not even enough time to take a shower. Maybe when she got back to the center, she could grab a quick one.
She’d worry about hair in the car. Right now she shoved her discarded undergarments into the bag and ran downstairs to collect her pajamas and purse.
Matt had joined in with her urgent preparations. He closed off the flume in the chimney, returned the dishes to the kitchen and tossed his sweatpants and sweatshirt in a bag. With his tux over his arm, he was ready to go in fifteen minutes. Krista paused to take him in. His hair stood in spikes and sleep hooded his dark eyes. She smiled, wishing she could spare the time to enjoy being with him.
“What?” he asked, a smirk turning up his lips. “I’m a mess until I get my first cup of coffee. We’ll grab breakfast at a McDonald’s drive-thru if you don’t mind.”
“It’s fine with me. I have to call Cameron and tell him we’re on the way. He’s going to kill me.”
Krista laughed. “That’s a long trip for a few dirty coffee mugs,” she noted. Maybe it was just an excuse for them to be alone again, this time without the stress that followed them last night.
He glanced at her, quirking a small smile as he raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Yes, I think another trip would be wonderful.”
Matt returned his attention to the road, but the grin on his face told her the previous night wasn’t a fluke.
As soon as they were on the main road, Krista called Cameron’s cell phone, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset. Their biggest day, one they planned to perfection, and she would be late for it.
Cameron picked up on the first ring with an abrupt greeting.
“Cameron, we’re on our way. I’m so sorry, but I promise we’ll be there in less than two hours. I owe you big time,” she blurted out, before he could say anything.
“Krista, oh my God, where the hell are you? I’ve been worried sick!”
The anger and urgency in his tone shocked her into a momentary pause. “I know and I’m sorry, time got away from us—”
“Just get back here,” he said, his voice steel.
“You can hold things down, right? The opening isn’t for another hour or so, so you won’t have too much of a wait.”
“There’s not going to be an opening. Oh hell, get your ass back here. This is such a mess.”
Chapter 10
The call ended before Krista could ask any more questions. What the hell was going on down there? No opening? What was he talking about?
“What is it?” Matt asked, glancing at her.
“I have absolutely no idea. Whatever it is, it’s not good. He’s really pissed and he wouldn’t say why. Cameron doesn’t get angry too often so it’s got to be bad.”
After a quick stop at the McDonald’s off Route 89, they drove straight through, making Quail Ridge in under an hour and a half. They went to the mill first, but were only allowed to get two streets away. The area was closed off and emergency vehicles were everywhere. Even in the broad daylight the red strobe lights from the fire engines glowed against the brick walls of the mill.
“Oh good God,” Matt swore and got out of the car. Krista ran after him, up the street behind the mill. Her flesh went cold and her stomach churned at the chaos surrounding the building and the acrid smoke that rose in a smutty gray cloud into the perfect pale blue sky.
The entire front of the building was a scarred black shell. The back appeared untouched, but the damage in the front seemed complete.
Matt stopped when he reached his father and Fred Seiberling, a member of the town’s fire department. A look of relief washed over Ed’s face, replaced quickly by anger.
“Where the hell have you two been? We’ve been worried sick about you!”
“We went to the cabin,” Matt replied. He had a hangdog expression on his face, like a little kid who knew he’d done something really wrong.
“And you didn’t think that maybe you should’ve let someone know? Damn it, Matt, that was irresponsible. Your mom and I have been going crazy with worry.”
“What happened?” Krista teetered somewhere between numbness and dizziness. The need to sit overwhelmed her. She battled it down and turned her attention away from Ed’s flushed face back to the smoking remains of what had been her office and the nursery.
Chaos.
Across the street in the common onlookers milled around, gripping cups of coffee, gathered in clumps. Then she noticed the TV crews. Most likely they’d swooped down on the scene long before dawn to give updates every fifteen minutes on the news. She wanted to scream, tell them to go away. She swallowed back on it, holding onto her strength with a tight fist. What good would it do to lose control? It wouldn’t make the mill stop burning. It certainly wouldn’t stop the reporter—who evidently had just noticed her arrival—from hustling her way.
She struggled to focus on Ed’s words but kept her eye on the reporter and cameraman, keenly aware of Cameron and Matt closing ranks around her. Maybe they’d keep her safe for a moment. She’d become much too familiar with the tenacity of reporters. They’d find a way to her, no matter what.
“What happened?” she repeated.
“They’re trying to figure that out now,” Ed told her. “In light of everything else going on here the past several weeks, they’re thinking arson. There’s more, Krista.”
Before Ed could continue, Krista heard her name being called. She turned to see a female reporter jogging toward her from behind, cameraman in tow.
“Ms. Faye!” the reporter waved her hand as she closed in on her. “Ms. Faye, do you think the fire has anything to do with the car accident fifteen years ago that took three lives?”
“Shit,” Krista growled, searching for an escape. Instead another reporter dodged past the policeman who’d been holding him back. She glanced at Matt. “Why would they link the two?”
Matt didn’t answer. Instead, he moved her aside gently and strode over to the woman. She must’ve been prepared for him, because she dodged around him and continued her beeline toward Krista.
“Ms. Faye, in light of the vandalism at the mill several weeks ago, and now the fire here and at your house, do you think you’re being targeted for revenge?”
Krista turned on the woman, her heart seizing in her chest. Cameron grabbed her arm to hold her back.
“Krista, wait,” he urged but she pulled away.
“What the hell is she talking about, Cam?”
Voices began to blend together. Matt had been able to keep the reporter in her spot, yet the questions barreled on, echoing in Krista’s head. Cameron and Gretchen held on to her.
“Get her out of here,” she heard Ed Burgess saying. “She doesn’t need to be around this.”
“Come on, honey,” Gretchen murmured soothingly. “Let Matt and his dad take care of everyone here.”
Krista’s frantic sweep of the crowd found Matt. It appeared the reporter had turned her attention on him. After all, he’d been involved in the tragedy fifteen years ago. He might not have been the prime target, but she sure didn’t seem to mind.
Before Gretchen could draw her away, she and Matt locked gazes.
“Go,” he mouthed, waving his hand before returning his attention to the crew.
She and Gretchen slipped away. They made it as far as the parking lot when someone else yelled to her. Krista turned toward the voice.
Emily ran from the mill’s parking lot, her tawny-colored leather coat flapping around her legs. Her presence here stunned Krista. She hadn’t even spoken to Emily since she first settled back in Quail Ridge. Their last phone conversation had been an argument about what to do with their mother’s home, with Emily wanting to sell it but Krista determined to stay in it while she put the center together.
Now Emily, her younger, sophisticated, highly polished sister, was racing toward her, not a speck of make-up on, her hair in a careless ponytail.
“Emily, what are you doing here?” Krista managed, just before her sister grabbed her in a hug that nearly knocked her off her feet.
“I could kill you,” Emily said against her shoulder. “Thank God you’re okay.”
Krista eased her away, needing to get her breath back. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on? Who called you? And what’s this about the house?”
“The house, Krista, it’s gone. Burnt down. We thought you and Matt . . .” Emily began brokenly.
“What?” Now she was truly stunned, like a hard blow to her belly. No wonder Cameron had been so angry. They thought she’d been in the house and pro
bably died. Matt too, when they discovered he wasn’t at his own house.
“Ricky—”
“No.” Gretchen stopped her. “At least not directly that we know of. His father took him out of town. They were on their way to the family’s house on the Cape when this happened. Still, there’ll be an investigation into his involvement.”
Krista turned back to her sister. “The house?”
“It’s completely gone, Krista. Everything. Your Jeep, too. Tires were slashed.”
Floundering for a steady breath, Krista instead choked on lingering smoke in the air. Matt’s arm came around her to lend support. Apparently he’d dealt with the reporter. She leaned against him gratefully. All she could think about was the loss. The mill before her, a piece of the town’s history, a building that had played such a big role in the Burgess’s family, was burning. Her center, a dream dear to her, lay in ruins. And her home, where she and her sister had grown up, destroyed as well.
“Gus? Did he get out?” She feared the answer would be no.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Gretchen replied, brushing away the tear that slipped down Krista’s cheek.
Matt tightened his hold on her. “We’re not done here, Krista. I think we’ve taken care of the reporters for now, but there are things we need to deal with here before we can go. I’m sorry.”
She turned into his arms. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” All she wanted to do was crawl into her own bed and pretend none of this happened. But the acrid smell of charred remains riding on the early November wind wouldn’t let her.
Where One Road Leads Page 14