by Cara Colter
She scanned his face, and could feel the heat in her own intensify. There was no doubt at all in her mind that he meant it.
Or that her forehead felt like it was swelling like a balloon filling with helium.
“Humph.” She stuck her chin out, but it was a token protest. As annoying as it was, he was absolutely right.
By the time his hand went to her elbow and he used his easy strength to leverage her up, Kayla had no resistance in her at all.
Annoyed with herself, she shook off his hand, marched to his car, opened the passenger-side door and slid in. The deep leather seat had been warmed by the sun, and the rich scent of the luxurious car enveloped her.
It was possibly the nicest car Kayla had ever been in. Her car, now, was a presentable, fairly new economy model that Kevin’s insurance had allowed.
She didn’t even want to think about the cars before that—a string of dilapidated jalopies that always seemed to need repairs she and Kevin could never afford.
That made her even more determined not to give David the satisfaction of thinking his beautiful car made any kind of impression on her.
Apparently not any more interested in small talk than she was, David got in the driver’s side. He checked over his shoulder, pulled out into the empty street, did a tight U-turn and headed back toward downtown, though he had a local’s savvy for navigating a path around the congested main street toward the beach.
Kayla settled her head against the back of her seat and felt a subtle, contented lethargy. The aftermath of the sting, or the drug hitting her system, or surrendering control or some lethal combination of all of those things.
She had always had a secret desire to ride in a convertible, and even though the circumstances were not quite as she had envisioned, she did not know if the opportunity would ever arise again.
She tugged at the elastic that most of her hair had fallen out of anyway, and freed her hair to the wind. If the circumstances had been different, she had a feeling this experience would be intoxicatingly pleasurable.
David glanced at her, and his eyes seemed to hold on her hair before he looked at her face and a reluctant smile tugged at the beautiful corner of his mouth.
Kayla flipped down the sun visor on her side, and it explained the smile. Despite the adrenaline shot, her brow bone had disappeared into puffiness that was forming a shelf over her eyes. She could have hidden under her hat if it wasn’t lying back there on the road waiting to get run over with the rest of her things!
Including her dog. Surely, he could have taken a moment to find the dog.
But no, she came first.
A long time since she had come first. Not that it was personal. It was an emergency responder prioritizing.
She cast David a glance. Thankfully, he had turned his attention back to the road. He was an excellent driver, alert and relaxed at the same time, fast but controlled. His face had a stubborn set to it. He had, in that infernally aggravating way of his, put his priorities in order, and a dog was not among them!
“Can I borrow your cell phone?” Her voice came out faintly slurred over a thick tongue, and much as the admission hurt, Kayla knew he had made the right decision.
He fished the phone out of his pocket and tossed it to her casually.
Who to call about the dog? She barely knew anyone here anymore. The neighbors across the street had their name on their mailbox. And children home for the summer.
She navigated his phone to a local directory, looked up her neighbor’s number and asked whether her kids could look for the dog. She offered a reward, and then as an afterthought, payment if they would go collect her bike and belongings.
“I said I’d look after it,” he said when she clicked off.
She gave him a frosty look that she hoped, despite the swollen brow, let him know she would look after her own life, thank you very much.
Despite her discomfort, Kayla could not help but notice the details of the gorgeous vehicle. Sleek and posh, the subtle statement of a man who had parlayed his substantial talent for being able to discern the right thing into a sizable fortune and an amazing success story.
Not like Kevin.
Again, the thought came from nowhere, as if somehow David’s close proximity was coaxing to the surface feelings she did not want to acknowledge about her late husband.
Guilt washed over her. And then she just felt angry. She had tried so, so hard to put Kevin back together again, and not a word from David.
The ride with him was mercifully short given that his scent—masculine and clean—was mingling with the scent of sun on leather, and tickling at her nostrils. In minutes, his driving fast, controlled and superb, they arrived at the small village emergency clinic.
For practical purposes it was located adjacent to the public beach where the huge influx of summer visitors didn’t always recognize the dangers hidden beneath the benign scene of a perfect summer.
But David knew them. He knew those dangers intimately. Kayla was aware of David’s shoulders tightening as he pulled into the parking lot.
He got out of the car and she followed, watching as he went still and gazed out over the nearby beach.
Fried onion and cooking French fries smells wafted out of the concession and the sand was dotted with the yellow-striped sun umbrellas rented from a stand. Out on the water, people who didn’t have a clue what they were doing paddled rented kayaks and canoes.
Teenagers had laid claim to the floats that swayed on sparkling waters, and bikini-clad girls shrieked as boys splashed them or tried to toss them in the water.
Toddlers played with sand buckets, mothers handed out sandy potato chips and farther back, among the cottonwoods, grandmothers sat in the deep shade engrossed in books or crossword puzzles.
The lifeguards, alone, were not in fun mode. They sat in high chairs, watching, watching, watching.
She hadn’t been there that day it had happened. The day that had changed all of them forever. David was looking at one of the lifeguards, frowning.
What did David see? She saw a young man who was slouched in his chair, looking faintly bored behind sunglasses, as he endlessly scanned the waters between the sand and the buoys that ended the designated swimming area.
For a moment the expression on David’s face was unguarded, and she could see sorrow swim in the depths of those amazing eyes. Her animosity toward him flagged. Was it possible that like Kevin, he could not put it behind him?
“David?” She touched his arm.
He broke his gaze and looked at her, momentarily puzzled, as if he didn’t know who she was or where he was.
“It was a long time ago,” she said softly.
He flinched, and then shook off her arm. “I don’t need your pity,” he said quietly, his voice cold and hard-edged.
“It wasn’t pity,” she said, stung.
“What was it, then?” His voice sounded harsh.
She hesitated. “A wish, I guess.”
“A wish?”
“That it could somehow be undone. That we could have been the same people we were before it happened.”
For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, and that he bit it back with great effort.
“Wishes are for children,” he said grimly.
“And that’s the day childhood ended for you,” she noted softly.
“No, it isn’t. I wasn’t a child anymore.” He didn’t say neither was Kevin, but she heard it as clearly as if he had spoken it. “It was the day childhood ended for her. Not us. That little girl who drowned.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“No,” he said firmly, “It wasn’t.”
Which left the cold, hard truth about whose fault it had been. It had been an accident. A terrible tragedy.
But
somehow he had always blamed Kevin, never forgiven him. David’s hard attitude had been part of what destroyed him.
That’s what Kayla needed to remember when she was leaning toward him, thinking illicit thoughts about his lips and admiring how posh his car was.
“It was an accident,” she said, “There was a full investigation. Ultimately, it was an accident. Her parents should have been watching more closely.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “How long did he tell you that before you started believing it?”
“Excuse me?”
His tone was furious. “Her parents weren’t trained lifeguards. How would they know that drowning isn’t the way it is in the movies? Would they know sometimes there is not a single sound? Not a scream? Not a splash? Not a hand waving frantically in the air?
“He knew that. He knew that, but you know what? He wasn’t watching.”
Kayla could feel the color draining from her face. “You’ve always blamed him,” she whispered. “Everything changed between the two of you after that. How could you do that? You were his best friend. He needed you.”
“He needed to do his job!”
“He was young. He was distracted. Anybody could be distracted for a second.”
“The end of our friendship doesn’t just fall on my shoulders,” David said quietly. “Kevin wouldn’t talk to me after the investigation. He was mad because I told the truth.”
“What truth?”
He drew in his breath sharply, seemed to consider.
“Tell me,” she said, even though she had the childish desire to put her hands over her ears to block what he was going to say next.
“He was flirting with a girl. Instead of doing his job.”
She knew David rarely swore, but he inserted an expletive between his and job that could have made a soldier blush.
“He was over there by the concession not even looking at the water.”
“He was already going out with me!” she said, her voice a squeak of outrage and desperation. “That’s a lie.”
“Is it?” he asked quietly. “I was coming on shift. I wasn’t even on duty. I looked out at the water and I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. There was an eeriness in the air. And then I saw that little girl. She had blond hair and she was facedown and her hair floating around her head in the water. I yelled at him as I went by and we both went out.”
“You’re lying,” she whispered again.
He looked at her sadly. “It was too late. By the time we got to her.”
“Why would you tell me something so hurtful?” she demanded, but her voice sounded weak in her own ears. “Why would you lie to me like that?”
His eyes were steady on her own.
“Have I ever lied to you, Kayla?” he asked quietly.
“Yes!” she said. “Yes, you have.”
And then she turned and practically ran from him before he could see the tears streaming down her face.
CHAPTER FOUR
DAVID’S HAND LANDED on her shoulder, and he spun her around.
“When?” he demanded. “When did I ever lie to you?”
“We kissed that one night on the beach,” Kayla said, carefully stripping her voice of any emotion.
His hand fell away from her shoulder, and he stuffed it in the pocket of his shorts and looked away from her.
“And then,” she said, her voice a hiss, “you would barely look at me after that. That, David Blaze, is the worst kind of lie of all!”
He drew in his breath, sharply, and looked like he had something to say. Instead, his expression closed.
That same cool, shutting-her-out expression that she remembered all too well from after their ill-fated kiss!
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about any of this.”
His tone was dismissive, his eyes that had been so expressive just a moment ago, were guarded. His features were closed and cold, his mouth a firm line that warned her away from the place he did not want to go. Which was their shared history.
And that was not a problem. Because Kayla didn’t want to go there, either.
“You brought it up,” she reminded him tightly.
He scraped a hand though his hair and sighed, a sound heavy with weariness. “I did. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
* * *
“Thank you for your help,” Kayla said with stiff formality. “I can take it from here. I’ve taken enough of your time. You should go.”
David was aware Kayla was taking her cues from him. Slamming the door shut on their shared past.
David was aware he had managed to hurt her feelings, and make her very angry and he was genuinely sorry for both.
Her husband was dead. What momentary and completely uncharacteristic lack of control had made him tell her, after all these years, about what had happened that day?
He supposed it was because she had taken Kevin’s word and way, absolved him of responsibility by blaming those poor parents, as innocent in the whole thing as their child had been.
The drowning had been ruled an accident. But the tension between him and Kevin had never been repaired.
It was only the fact that he had just saved Kayla’s life that was making her struggle for even a modicum of courtesy. In other circumstances, David was aware that he probably would have found that struggle, so transparent in her face and eyes, somewhat amusing.
You should go. That was a good idea if David had ever heard one.
He still could not believe the anger he felt when she said that about it being the parents’ responsibility, his anger at how completely she had bought into Kevin absolving himself.
Still, it was all a long time ago. Her voice saying that, soft with compassion, was something worth escaping from.
It was a long time ago.
Sometimes months could go by without him thinking of it.
But that was not while looking at the beach, with Kayla at his side. He didn’t like it that she had seen, instantly, that it still bothered him.
And he liked it even less that her hand had rested on his wrist, her touch gentle and offering understanding.
Kayla. Some things never changed. She was always looking for something or someone to save, Kevin being a case in point.
Kevin had died in a car accident on a slippery night, going too fast, as always. Had he not cared that he had responsibilities? The accident had happened very late at night. Why hadn’t he been home with his beautiful, young wife?
David shook it off. It was none of his business, but he wished she had not brought up that kiss. He remembered every single thing about it: the sand of the day clinging to them both, the bonfire, the sky star-studded and inky, the night air warm and sultry, the velvety softness of her cheek nestled into his hand as she gazed at him with those huge, liquid-green eyes. His lips had been pulled to her lips like steel to a magnet. And when he had tasted them, they had tasted sweetly of the nectar that gave life.
Until that precise moment, that electrifying meeting of lips, they had just been friends in a circle of friends. But they had been at that age when awareness is sharpening...where the potential for everything to change is always shimmering in the air.
It was true. What he had done after was the worst kind of lie.
Because the next day, Kevin, who had not been at the bonfire the night before, had told David he had fallen for Kayla. That he’d known forever that she was the girl for him, that he had asked her to the prom and she had said yes.
Obviously, Kevin had asked her to the prom before David had kissed her.
He’d felt the dilemma of it; his best friend was staking a claim, had a prior claim. Since his own father had died, David had practically lived at the house next door. He and Kevin were more t
han friends. They were brothers. Plus, what had Kayla been doing kissing David when she’d agreed to go with Kevin to the prom?
David had done the only possible thing. He’d backed off. In truth, he had probably thought he might have another chance to explore the electricity that had leaped so spontaneously between him and Kayla.
He had thought the thing between her and Kevin would play itself out. Kevin never stuck with anything for long.
But then the little girl had drowned. On Kevin’s watch. And the days of that summer had become a swiftly churning kaleidoscope that they all had been sucked into. A kaleidoscope of loss and of pain and guilt and remorse and sadness. And of anger.
And somehow, when the kaleidoscope had stopped spinning and had spit them all out, Kayla and Kevin were engaged.
It occurred to David that he had been angry at Kevin long before that child had drowned.
“You need to go.”
Kayla said it again, more firmly.
David wanted to get away from her, and from the anger in her eyes, and the recrimination, and the pain that shaded the green to something deeper than green.
She dismissed him, turning her back on him, marching through the doors of the clinic.
The easiest thing would have been to let her go.
But when had David ever done what was easy?
He had promised to see to her dog and her things, and the fact that his word was solid gold was part of what had allowed him to go so far in the world. Blaze Enterprises had been built on a concept of integrity that was rare in the business world.
He followed her through the doors of the clinic.
The ancient nurse, Mary McIntyre, insisted that Kayla take one of the beds in the empty clinic, and so, even though Kayla had dismissed him, he followed them as Mary fussed around her, asking questions, taking her pulse and her blood pressure and listening to her heart.
“We’ll just keep an eye on you, dear. There’s a doctor three minutes away if we need him.”
“Okay,” Kayla said, settled on the cot, her arms folded across her chest. She glared at David. “Why are you still here?”