“Not with her work. She’s been great with helping me set up the office, and she’s very efficient and eager to please. The perfect employee, really.”
“That’s great.”
“She’s got natural instincts too. The other day she pointed out a couple of problems with a building I’m working on that I hadn’t even considered.”
Every mother liked to hear good things about her children—but why did she have the feeling a big “but” was coming? “What did you want to talk to me about, then?”
He was silent as they stepped down off the curb and crossed the street, and she felt as if they were picking their way around the conversation as carefully as she was trying to navigate through the ice in the road.
“I don’t know how to ask this without just blurting it out, bald and unadorned,” he finally said. “Is there any chance Sage has a drinking problem?”
Sage? A drinking problem? For a brief moment, she thought she must have misheard him. This was their daughter he was talking about. Sage—funny, bright, giving Sage. On the heels of Maura’s shock came the low thrum of anger.
She jerked to a stop. “What kind of question is that? You’re asking me if my daughter is…is some kind of drunk? Why the hell would you even think such a thing?”
He stopped alongside her and held up his hands. “Calm down. I’m just asking. I was a college student. I know kids her age can sometimes take things to excess. Maybe party a little harder than they planned.”
“Not Sage,” she bit out.
“Well, I don’t know what else to attribute it to. A couple of mornings since we opened the office, she seems almost hungover, out of it and pale when she shows up. This morning I heard her throwing up in the bathroom. She was better in the afternoon, but she still didn’t seem like herself.”
How did he know what Sage’s real self was like? He barely knew their daughter! She wanted to snap the words at him, but she remembered her own concern for Sage since she’d moved her things home from her dorm. She had to agree her daughter had seemed very under the weather, but Maura would never believe she was abusing alcohol. Sage didn’t even like the taste of beer. She had admitted as much after her first year of college, when Maura had probed about the notorious Boulder party scene.
“I think she might have a bug,” she told Jack now. “I can promise you, she’s not out partying. For one thing, she’s still underage. For another, since she came back from school, she’s been in bed before I am every night. Even over the weekend.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s not drinking by herself.”
Just the idea of that shook her to the core. Sage had been struggling since Layla’s death. Was it possible she was drowning her grief in alcohol? No. She wouldn’t believe it.
“I know my daughter, Jack. That’s not her. If nothing else, she would never want to ruin her chances to work with you by coming in with a hangover. I think she has a bug,” she said again. “I had planned to take her to the doctor in the next week or so if she doesn’t start feeling better, but if it’s affecting her work, I’ll try to get her in earlier. She needs to be working on her online courses.”
“She’s doing her job. I have no concerns in that area. I was only worried about her health.” He studied Maura in the streetlight’s glow. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Now I’ve upset you.”
“No. I’m glad you did. It’s my job as her mother to worry for her.”
“And mine now as well,” he said, as if she needed that reminder of the strange turn her life had taken the past month, with Jack now a major part of their lives after all these years.
“I’ll push her to go to the doctor,” she promised. “If you see anything else unusual, please let me know.”
“I’m not sure how Sage would feel about me snitching on her to her mother.”
“Why not? Fair is fair. She tells me everything you do,” she lied.
To her surprise, he laughed. “In that case, I’ll be sure to drop a dime if I see her doing anything crazy. Which one is your car?”
They had reached the parking lot, she realized, without her having much recollection of the actual journey. “That SUV there on the back row.”
The wet snow of earlier had frozen to the windshield, leaving the worst kind of mess. She sighed. Apparently she wouldn’t quite be able to end this long day yet.
“Go in and turn on the defroster and heater. I’ll scrape for you.”
“I can take care of it.”
“So can I. Where’s your scraper?”
Arguing with him would only make her sound ridiculous. She reached inside the door on the driver’s side and pulled out her ice scraper.
“Thanks,” he said, taking it from her and immediately starting work on the windshield. “Go inside and get warm.”
She didn’t answer, just grabbed the second scraper that—like any good mountain dweller—she kept in her vehicle as a backup.
“You’re as stubborn as ever, aren’t you?” Jack said when she joined him at the windshield.
She gave him a cheeky smile. “Parenthood has only made me better at digging in my heels.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The words weren’t sexual at all, but for some crazy reason, she felt a ridiculous heat spread from her stomach to her thigh muscles. Grrr. She ignored it and put her back into making sure she scraped more ice off the window than Jack did. He’d grown soft living in California, where he only had to worry about a little fog, while she had spent twenty winters honing her ice-removal skills.
They didn’t say much as they worked, only the occasional comment about how he had forgotten how cold it could get once the cloud cover moved off, and how this winter had been mild compared to some. When they’d finally cleared off the last window, he shook the remaining snow off the scraper before handing it back to her.
“There you go. You should be able to see now.”
“Thank you. I generally find that useful when I’m trying to drive. Shall we do yours?”
“I think I’m good.” He gestured across the parking lot to one of the few other vehicles there, an SUV that looked brand-new, judging by the temporary plates hanging inside the disgustingly frost-free back window.
“How did you manage that?”
“I had errands this afternoon after it snowed and I brushed it off then. Thanks for the offer, though.”
She shrugged. “You’re new in town. Well, if you don’t count your first eighteen years, anyway. I wouldn’t want you to think we’re not neighborly to our architects, brilliant or not.”
He chuckled and reached in front of her to open her driver’s-side door, in an astonishingly sweet gesture. She gazed at him. This whole thing would be much easier if he would act more like a jerk instead of doing these kind things that left her flustered and off guard.
She brushed past him to climb inside her SUV again, too aware of him to pay as much attention as she should to her footing. Her boot slipped on a patch of ice just outside the vehicle, and to her mortification, she felt herself falling. In an instant, Jack released the door and grabbed for her instead, clamping his hand around her upper arm and catching her.
She managed to find her balance, but her good sense seemed to have completely deserted her. She couldn’t seem to look away from the sudden flare of heat in those blue eyes, the pulse beating along his jawline, the warm air that emerged in a cloud with his exhale.
She should move. Right now. The warning whispered through her like a cold wind, but she instinctively blocked it out. He was warm and sweet and gorgeous. Why would she possibly want to move?
CHAPTER NINE
<
br /> SHE HELD HER BREATH as he lowered his head to kiss her, his mouth warm against the winter night and tasting sweetly of cinnamon.
She shouldn’t respond. If she stood here like an ice sculpture, he would probably take one quick taste and then move on. Some part of her brain knew that was the wisest course, but the rest of her apparently didn’t want to listen. He was warm and delicious and she hadn’t known the sweet seduction of a man’s kiss in forever.
His arms wrapped around her, pressing her against the door, and she thought he murmured her name, low in his throat. That sexy sound apparently was all her foolish body needed to ignite. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, lost in the heat and the wonder of it, all tangled with memories of so many other kisses.
He had always been a fantastic kisser. Even as a young man, he had known just how to taste and tease and explore. Now, age and experience gave him a laser-sharp focus on her mouth that left her weak and achy and wanting much, much more.
Why had they bothered scraping all the snow when the heat they generated would have done the job?
She had a sudden memory of their first kiss. After weeks of hanging out together, talking and laughing and helping each other through their respective family crap, she had been dying inside, waiting and waiting for him to finally take the next step and wondering if she was going to have to paint a big red X-marks-the-spot on her mouth to clue him in that she wanted him to kiss her.
Finally, one evening they had gone hiking up in Silver Strike Canyon. They had been sitting on a boulder enjoying the twilight and the picnic she had packed and, suddenly, out of the blue, he had grabbed her sandwich out of her hand, tossed it into the grass and devoured her mouth until neither one of them could think straight.
The memories were all tangled up with the present. She was no longer that seventeen-year-old girl. She was a mature woman with needs she had ignored far too long, but right now, in Jack’s arms, she wanted to be that reckless, wild girl, throwing caution to the wind in the arms of the boy she loved.
His kiss deepened, heightening the aching hunger, and she kissed him back, pressing against his hard strength.
For all she knew, they might have stood there all night, kissing until their toes went numb with frostbite. She wanted to, but suddenly the sound of a car’s engine out on the street pierced the haze of desire. Before she could pull away, she heard a loud honk, then a bunch of whooping and catcalling, then teenaged voices grew more distant as the car passed them.
Oh, good grief. What was she doing, standing out here on a frigid January night, tangled in Jack Lange’s arms? She felt as if she had been in hibernation for twenty years, just waiting for him to return and wake her....
She jerked out of his arms and sank down sideways on the driver’s seat, wishing she could shove him out of the way, slam the car door and squeal out of the parking lot. But she was thirty-seven years old, not some foolish teenage girl. She was certainly adult enough to face up to her mistakes.
Jack looked down at her, his ragged breathing sending out little puffs of condensation. “We always could generate enough flames to burn down the whole Silver Strike forest.”
“Winter nights at this high altitude can do crazy things to people’s judgment,” she said, her voice as prim as her maiden aunt Gertrude’s underwear.
He looked amused. “So you’re saying the cold and the altitude are to blame for my overwhelming urge to slip into that backseat with you right now and see just how crazy our judgment can get?”
Her whole body felt flushed, tingly, and she couldn’t quite catch a full breath. “Have a little originality, Jack. You mean you haven’t changed your technique at all in twenty years?”
His smoldering look had a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know flavor to it. “Oh, I’ve definitely branched out. But I have to say, once in a while there’s something to be said for the tried and true.”
She almost had to close her eyes at the jittery hunger his words evoked. Thirty-seven, she reminded herself sternly. Much too mature and centered to be tempted into necking with a guy in the backseat of a car—especially when the man in question was the only one with whom she had ever enjoyed the activity.
“You’ll have to try that particular walk down memory lane with someone else. I’m tired and I’m going home. Good night, Jack. Thank you for helping me scrape my windows and for keeping me from cracking my tailbone on the ice. I’ll be sure to watch my step more carefully from now on when I’m around you.”
He laughed again. “Good night, Maura. Sweet dreams.”
At last—about ten minutes too late for her peace of mind—he closed the vehicle door behind her. Maura drew in a deep, cleansing breath, aware of the tremble of her hands and each pounding heartbeat. She shifted into gear and drove out of the parking lot, wondering how the heck a January night in the high Rockies could turn so steamy.
* * *
“WOW. THIS IS A SURPRISE. You brought me lunch. Thanks, Mom!”
Maura forced a smile for her daughter, who sat behind a tasteful oak desk in the reception area of the Hope’s Crossing branch of Jack’s firm. The reception area wasn’t large, perhaps twelve feet by fifteen feet, but it was decorated with comfortably sturdy mission-style furniture, and a couple of Arts and Crafts–era lamps with shades of bronze glass that looked as if they belonged in a museum somewhere.
Sage wore one of the blazers she had purchased at her favorite thrift shop. She seemed as polished and cool as the office, until Maura looked closer and saw the circles under her eyes, the pale cast to her features.
“We need to talk, and I couldn’t figure out another way to pin you down. Eat your turkey wrap. Dermot Caine fixed it especially for you. I think he always adds extra yellow peppers because he knows you love them. Go ahead. Eat.”
Sage studied her for a moment, then obediently untwisted the paper around her sandwich and took a small bite. Maura took a bite of her own, though she wasn’t very hungry. Parents needed to lead by example, right? Anyway, it was no big sacrifice. Dermot’s sandwich wraps were always delicious, even when she wasn’t in the mood to eat.
Her gaze kept drifting to the closed door behind her daughter, and she finally had to ask. “You said your, er, Jack is out of town?”
“He had meetings in San Francisco for the rest of the week. He’s supposed to be back on Saturday night, though.”
Maura told herself she’d only asked because she didn’t want to be interrupted for this long-overdue discussion with her daughter. She certainly wasn’t interested in his whereabouts for her own sake.
She wasn’t avoiding him. Or at least she didn’t want to admit she was avoiding him. Ever since that stunning kiss the week before, she had gone out of her way to park in the opposite direction from his office and to make sure their paths didn’t have any reason to cross.
She couldn’t help it if the memory of his mouth, hard and determined, and his hands slipping inside her coat left her breathless. Okay, maybe she had spent far too much time this past week reliving that kiss. She was quite sure that was just a case of the winter crazies and would pass soon enough.
“This is nice,” she said, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with one of the napkins Dermot had included. “I’ve hardly seen you since you moved back. It seems like you’re always studying or over at one of your friends or here at the office. I think I saw you more when you were living in Boulder.”
“I guess things have been a little hectic,” Sage said.
“Right.” She took a deep breath and set down her lunch. “That’s probably why you haven’t
gone to the see the doctor like you promised me last week.”
Sage shifted and looked away. “I didn’t promise anything. I said if I needed a doctor, I would go.”
“But you haven’t. And you’re still not feeling well, are you? I didn’t tell you this last week, but even Jack has noticed. He even asked me if you have an alcohol abuse problem. I told him you had a bug you couldn’t shake.”
“I don’t have a drinking problem and I don’t need a doctor, Mom. Back off, okay? I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, honey. Since you came home, you’re always pale and you don’t have any energy. I’m worried about mononucleosis. It runs rampant on college campuses, from what I understand.”
“I don’t have mono.”
“You might! How do you know? It takes a blood test before you know for sure.”
“Jeez, Mom. Did you seriously do a Google search for ‘mono’?”
“I was just looking up your symptoms,” she said, trying not to feel defensive. She was a mother worried for her child. Nothing wrong with that. “Admit it, you haven’t felt well since you came home. Even during the holidays you weren’t yourself.”
“Give me a break. I had just discovered the identify of the ultrasecret father you always claimed didn’t exist.”
“I never said Jack didn’t exist. I only told you he wasn’t a part of our lives and tried to stress you still had Chris, who was—and still is—an excellent stepfather. The point is, you’re not yourself. We need to make sure you don’t have something contagious.”
“It’s not contagious,” Sage muttered.
“How do you know? I made an appointment with Dr. Harris. She has one last opening today at five. I’m sure Jack would understand if you closed up the office a little early in order to make it.”
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