Tears blurred her vision and love filled her heart. Sighing, Mike reached for him and cupped his face between her palms. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Rocket Man.”
“I know,” he said, grinning now.
“But I still want my ice cream.”
“I know that, too.”
Cash walked through the pile of rubble that had once been a perfect little guest cottage.
He spotted the lacy white curtains, now soggy wet and filthy, draped over a charred timber. Most of the fireplace and chimney were still standing, spearing up from the destruction like a monument to better days. His boots crunched and squished as he kicked crap out of his way and looked for something—anything—that could be salvaged.
But the sad truth was, there just wasn’t a damn thing that had come through that fire. And despite it all, he’d been lucky. The fire department had managed to contain the blaze, so that the woods were pretty much unaffected and neither his house nor Grace’s had been in danger. Strange how bad “lucky” felt.
He lifted his head and squinted into the late afternoon sunlight spearing through the copse of trees in golden shafts. A soft wind kicked up and rustled the leaves as it carried off the stench of charred wood and soggy fabric.
“Well,” a quiet voice said from inside the tree line, “this is a mess, isn’t it?”
Grace Van Horn, Cash’s aunt, stepped out of the shadows and gingerly picked her way through the ruin.
He forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Heard you were home. Good trip?”
“Oh,” Grace said, skimming the tips of her fingers through her impeccably styled snow-white hair. “It was wonderful. Henry and I had a lovely time.” She frowned as she came up beside him. “In fact, he just left. Told me he’d been to see you.”
“Yeah.” Cash shook his head and kept his gaze focused on the glistening, blackened heap in front of him. “He wanted to pay me for the damage.”
Cash still couldn’t believe it. He’d expected that Jack’s father would have wanted to wring his neck for endangering his son. Instead, he’d been the one apologizing and trying to make good on what Jack had done. None of the Marconis blamed him—but they didn’t have to. Cash knew damn well why this had happened. Because he’d allowed Jack into his life. Because he’d gotten sloppy. Careless.
He’d forgotten that the most important rule was to not care. That the only way to keep yourself safe was to let no one in.
“That’s very like him,” Grace said, nodding in silent approval. “But I’m guessing that you didn’t allow that?”
“Of course not,” Cash said, “I’ve got insurance. I don’t need him to pay for something that almost got his son killed.”
“Most people in your position would be angry at Jack. Thinking about suing his parents.”
“Yeah, well I’m not most people, am I?” he asked, swinging his gaze to the aunt he’d loved since his childhood. It was only through Grace Van Horn that Cash had ever known anything about a normal life. Had experienced even slightly the kind of family ties he’d always hungered for. “It was my fault, Grace,” he muttered thickly, wondering why nobody understood that but him.
“I’m sure you see it that way, but—”
He cut her off. “It’s the truth. I left that propane torch out. I taught Jack how to use it. I let him come over here all the damn time. I spent time with him. Got too close to him. Never should have,” he muttered, his voice dropping as his mind once again painted pictures of what might have been.
“Cash . . .”
“No.” One word. Harsh. Painful. “The kid could have been killed.”
“He wasn’t.” Her voice came soft, patient.
“Just lucky,” he said, and winced when somewhere beneath the rubble something broke with a groan.
“Accidents happen, Cash.” She laid one hand gently on his forearm.
That touch calmed him, but did nothing to change the resolution pounding through his head. All night, all day, he’d been seeing Jack lying on the deck, bleeding, burned, in pain. He saw again the fire sweeping closer to him, inch by hungry inch.
The sting of dozens of tiny burns on his own back reminded him just how close to disaster they’d all come. And he wouldn’t let it happen again.
“Cash,” Grace said, her voice firming, as she willed him to look at her. “I know you feel bad about Jack, but when you care about someone, you take the risk of pain.”
“Funny you should say that,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve just been telling myself the same damn thing.”
“Take a hike, Lucas,” Jo said as she marched into Mike’s house.
“Excuse me?” Her brother-in-law was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He looked completely comfortable and completely baffled at the sudden invasion of Marconis.
“Forgive her,” Sam said from right behind Jo. “She’s got a bug up her butt about something and won’t even tell me why she dragged me out of the house and brought me over here.”
“I’m going to tell you,” Jo snapped, shooting a glance into the empty living room. “As soon as we’re alone, the three of us.” She gave Lucas another long, meaningful look. “Where’s Mike?”
“In the kitchen,” he said. “More ice cream.”
“Perfect,” Jo declared, and stomped across the entryway to the closet. Yanking it open, she reached inside for Lucas’s jacket. Then scooping his car keys off the hall table, she tossed them at him.
This could have waited until the morning, but Jo didn’t want to wait another damn minute. She’d told Papa the truth and that had been the hardest part. Now, she needed to tell her sisters. She needed to finally, and at last, stop hiding.
But she wasn’t about to do it in front of Lucas.
“Can’t I just go upstairs?” he asked, a little wistfully.
“No, you can’t. Go away,” Jo insisted, shoving his jacket into his hands.
Sam patted him absently. “Go to my house. Jeff’s watching The Terminator.”
“The first one?”
“Does it matter?” Jo asked.
“Yes, the first one,” Sam answered, ignoring her and focusing on Lucas. “Jeff says the third one doesn’t count, and in the second one, Linda Hamilton is just way too intimidating.”
“Yeah,” Jo snapped, “and I just hate the way she did her hair in that one. Can he go now?”
“Good God, Jo, can you please take a pill of some kind?”
“I want five minutes of my sisters’ time,” Jo argued, throwing both hands high. “Is that really so much to ask?”
“You don’t ask. You demand,” Sam pointed out.
“If you guys are gonna argue,” Mike shouted from a distance, “at least do it back here where I can join in!”
“Okay, ladies,” Lucas said, juggling his keys as he put on his jacket. “I’m gone.” Then he shot a look over his shoulder. “You two promise to keep Mike off her feet?”
“Hell, I’ll tie her to a chair if you’ll just go away!”
Lucas laughed at her and Jo had a minute to realize the man was getting way too used to the Marconi way of life. They didn’t scare him at all anymore.
Once the door closed behind him, Jo took Sam’s arm and half dragged her to the kitchen. Mike was seated at the table, a half-eaten carton of ice cream open and waiting and a bowl of whipped cream right in front of her.
“What’s going on?” she asked, licking her spoon before dipping it back for more.
“That’s what I want to know,” Sam said, grabbing a spoon out of a drawer before sitting down beside Mike. She dipped into the ice cream, pulled out a tablespoonful and stared at Jo. “So. You gonna talk, or what?”
“Yeah,” she said, lifting her chin and swallowing, despite the suddenly dust-dry condition of her throat. “I am.”
“You wanna sit down?” Mike asked.
“No.”
“You want some ice cream?” Sam offered.
“No.�
�
“Must be serious,” Mike muttered.
“God, will you two shut up and let me talk?”
Now that the moment was here, Jo’s tongue felt thick and her mouth was dry. But she’d done enough hiding. Enough lying. She grabbed another spoon and went to join her sisters. After a big bite of chocolate chip ice cream, she blew out a breath and hit the highlights.
“Two things. First, I went back to school to get my degree. I’ve been going nights for almost two years. I graduate in two weeks and I want you guys there.”
Both of her sisters erupted into applause and Jo felt a swell of pride and pleasure that almost helped her say the rest of what she’d come here to say.
“And the reason I left school ten years ago, is . . .” God. Why am I still so damn ashamed? Papa was right. Cash was right. She’d done nothing wrong. It was all on him. All of it. And she’d let him get away with it for too damn long. “Because Steve Smith raped me.”
Stunned silence.
The kitchen clock, a parrot, naturally, swung its long tail feathers, making a tick, tick, tick sound that felt as though it were reverberating up through the floor.
Jo pulled in another shaky breath and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.
“The no-good, scum-sucking, lying, miserable son of a bitch bastard,” Sam said finally.
“Where is he now and how much can we kill him?” Mike wanted to know.
Releasing her breath on a sigh, Jo looked from one of her sisters to the other and knew that she was finally on the road to getting her life back.
Fifteen
“Next stop on the road to freedom.”
Jo said the words out loud just to remind herself why she was sitting in her truck, parked in Cash’s driveway. Since talking to her sisters the night before, she’d done a lot of thinking. True, they’d said almost the same thing her father and even Cash had said.
That as long as she hid away from life, Steve Smith was still winning.
So it was past time for her to take charge. To admit that she’d been wrong ten years ago and every day since. To acknowledge that on that long-ago night, Steve had stolen something precious from her.
Her ability to have a normal life.
Which was why she was here.
“So why aren’t you getting out of the truck?”
Fine. She could do this. Not saying it would be easy, but she could do it. She opened the door, stepped down carefully, and when her left foot slipped on some loose gravel, she cursed herself for going all out with high heels. But damn it, the man had never even seen her in a dress.
Smoothing her hands down the hips of her short, black dress, she felt the wind’s icy fingers dip down the low-cut back before slipping under her hem to tease her bare thighs. Jo blew out a breath and glanced down at her less than impressive cleavage. The low-cut scooped neckline displayed her charms as best it could, but just for a minute, she wished she’d gotten some of the boobs in the family.
Mike, selfish bitch, had pretty much claimed them all.
“What’s going on?”
Her head whipped up as Cash stepped out of his workshop, dusting his palms together. In his worn jeans, battered cowboy boots, and dark blue T-shirt, the man looked almost too good. Almost.
“I need to talk to you,” Jo said, then cleared her throat, since she sounded as nervous as she felt. Which was just stupid since she’d already slept with him, for God’s sake.
He shook his head. “If this is another Marconi attempt to pay for the damn cottage, forget it. I already told your father I wasn’t interested.”
“No, I—”
“And if you’re here to tell me to stay the hell away from Jack, don’t bother,” he added, half turning to go back to the workshop. “I already figured that out for myself.”
“I didn’t say—” For Pete’s sake, would the man not shut up long enough for her to proposition him?
“And,” he said, cutting her off again and making her grit her teeth, “don’t worry, I’ll be at the Phillipses’ house tomorrow to help you with the roof.”
“Do I look like I’m here to talk about work?” she shouted, suddenly and completely out of patience. “Or Jack? Or the cottage? Or any of the other damn things you’re going to say next?”
His gaze swept her up and down and she watched something flash in his eyes. Something hot enough to singe her even from ten feet away. “Then why are you here, Josefina?”
Here it is, she thought. The big moment. Make it count. “I’m here to go to bed with you again.”
“Who asked you?”
Another woman might have been insulted. But Jo was a Marconi, born and bred, and they fought fire with fire. Insult to insult. Eye for an eye.
“You want me bad and you know it,” she said, feeling a hell of a lot more at ease, now that she was headed into battle.
His mouth quirked. “I’ve had you bad, remember?”
“Okay, yeah. I do.” She took another step toward him and cursed her heels again when she wobbled. “The thing is, I want to have you ‘good.’ ” She frowned. “That’s not grammatically correct, but you know what I mean.”
He folded his arms over his chest and watched her, giving nothing away with his closed expression. “I don’t think I do. Why don’t you explain it to me?”
“I told my family,” she said, lifting her chin, just in case another salvo had to be fired. “About Steve. About what happened.”
“Good.” His features softened. “I’m glad.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. And the thing is, you were right about something.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “Oh, this I’ve got to hear. Josefina Marconi admitting Cash Hunter is right about something.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I’m waiting.”
“You were right when you said that I was cheating myself. That as long as I didn’t enjoy sex, then I was letting him win.”
He straightened up and watched her through dark eyes that were suddenly unreadable.
So she kept talking. “The thing is, Cash . . . I want to know what it feels like. I don’t want to be cheated anymore.”
“Josefina . . .”
“And I—trust you.”
He blew out a breath, reached up and shoved both hands through his too long hair before letting his arms fall back to his sides. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Cash, I’m not asking you to marry me,” she sputtered. “It’s one night, for God’s sake.”
He thought about it. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure,” she said, then added her last bit of temptation. “I brought you a pan of Nana’s lasagna. I thought we could have dinner together—after.”
He gave her a slow smile. “What if you’re too exhausted to chew?”
She swallowed hard. “Maybe we should eat first.”
Cash looked her up and down, letting himself feast on her. Josefina in her ironed jeans and freshly pressed T-shirts drove him to distraction. In that little black dress, she damn near killed him. One look at her, and all he’d wanted to do was grab her and pull her close.
But he’d made his decision after the fire, after Jack was injured—nearly died: no more getting involved. No more idle fantasies about Josefina, because somehow or other she’d become too important to him already.
Now, he realized that whether she knew it or not, she’d given him exactly what he needed. If he could heal her, help her to actually enjoy sex, to have the orgasm she’d avoided for years—then she’d leave.
Like everyone else had.
And his problems would be over. Not that he wanted her gone. But he knew she’d leave eventually and better that he decide exactly when.
“Are you gonna say something or what?” she demanded.
Cash smiled. The woman had a temper like a cornered rattler and the patience of a three-year-old. Damned if he didn’t like her.
“No more talking, Josefina,” h
e said, and reached out for her. Cupping his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her to him and took her mouth in a slow, deep kiss that promised a glimpse of heaven.
“You okay now?” Papa asked, tucking the blanket and sheet around Jack until he was outlined on the bed like a perfect little mummy. “You need anything?”
Jack shook his head and looked up at his father. It was good to be back at home. And even better that nobody was mad at him or anything, because they felt sorry for him because of his broken arm, which was totally cool even though it hurt a little. Nana had even made him chocolate milk and lasagna and it was really good, except Papa’s lasagna got burned by accident or something. She’d promised Jack some cake, too.
But he was still worried about something. “Is Cash mad, Papa?”
“No,” his father said, easing down onto the side of the bed. “He’s happy you’re all right. Like all of us are.”
“Good,” Jack said, and pulled at the edge of the sheet. He didn’t want Cash to be mad ’cause he had a plan and he didn’t want to get it all screwed up before it could come true. “Papa?”
“Yes?”
“If Jo and Cash get married, can I go and live with them?”
“What?”
“Don’t be mad,” Jack said hurriedly, when he saw the shock on his father’s face. “It’s just that Cash knows how to play baseball and you’re all busy and stuff and I think it would be good if I lived with them because Jo might get lonely without me now.” He didn’t want to hurt his father’s feelings, but he really liked being around Cash. “You’d still be my papa and everything,” he told him, reaching out to pat the man’s hand reassuringly.
Papa shook his head, opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it to ask, “Jo and Cash are getting married?”
“Maybe.” He hoped.
“And you want to live with them.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was only gone three weeks,” he muttered.
The lasagna was in the kitchen, there was an open bottle of wine on the bedside table, and Jo was thinking about getting naked.
Stupid. Stupid to be scared. She’d had sex lots of times. Hell, she’d had sex with Cash already. What’s the big deal? But even she wasn’t buying that.
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