by Nancy Bush
They remained kissing. Jesse kept his hands to himself. He might skip school as much as he could get away with, but he wasn’t stupid. He let her set the pace and it was excruciatingly slow. By the time they were half-lying on the couch, it felt like a millennium had crept by.
“I don’t know if I should be here—like this,” she whispered.
Jesse leaned on an elbow, watching the play of moonlight across her worried face. “I think this is great.”
“You’re supposed to think it’s great.”
“Well, how do you feel?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to quit?” Please, God, let her say no!
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to quit,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. He would have liked to run his tongue across the hill of her cheekbone—he’d seen that in the movies and it seemed like a damn good idea—but he sensed that would send her running.
Tawny seemed content to let him kiss her. Her lashes fluttered closed, and with difficult detachment, Jesse kept his kisses light and gentle. Every once in a while, he tried for a deeper kiss, but he could feel her tense up.
“I have to go home soon,” she said. “My mom thinks I’m with Liz.”
“Can you tell her you’re with me?”
“She’d ask me if your dad was here.”
“Can you lie?” Jesse suggested.
Tawny drew in a breath and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“How much time have we got?”
“Just a few more minutes, then I’ve got to start walking.”
“Jeezus, I wish I could drive.”
“You’d have to become a model son and student for that,” she said, her voice threaded with humor.
He gazed into her laughing eyes. Sometimes she took his breath away. He swooped in for a kiss, this one deeper, and for once she went with it, winding her arms around his neck and holding his face close to hers.
Jesse heard the thumping outside but was too entranced to connect what it was.
A second later, the door flew open, the light switched on, and his father hurled his crutches onto the floor and collapsed against the wall. Tawny and Jesse froze. A moment passed, then Hawk growled, “So, what’s going on here?”
Tawny whimpered and Jesse, inwardly groaning, sat up to face the music.
* * *
Liz had spent a so-so evening. Not as bad as she’d feared, not as good as she’d hoped. Avery’s company was fine, but now all she wanted was for him to drop her off at her door and disappear.
But it wasn’t going to happen.
“You have the most unusual color eyes,” he said as they stood together on her tiny porch.
“Mmm.” She’d never been any good at handling compliments.
“Kind of like a Caribbean sea,” he said.
“Aquamarine,” Liz said. “That was my mom’s description. She had the same color.”
“So, it runs in the family. If you had a daughter, she’d have the same beautiful eyes.”
And if I had a son he’d have the same beautiful eyes as his father.
Fidgeting, Liz searched her mind for a polite rejection. Avery either wasn’t picking up the signals or chose to completely ignore them. He inched a half step closer and Liz could feel the heat of his skin.
“Avery . . .” she murmured in protest.
“What?” He had the audacity to tip up her chin with his index finger and gaze deeply into her eyes. She wondered if he practiced this move in front of a mirror.
“I think—” she began, only to have him steal a kiss, his movements so quick that his mouth actually stifled her gasp of surprise.
She handled the kiss stiffly, half-annoyed that she still was as unreceptive to other males besides Hawthorne Hart as she’d been at seventeen. She advised others to get over their relationships that didn’t work, yet she couldn’t seem to swallow the same medicine she dispensed so freely.
Since she didn’t immediately push him away, Avery’s arms tightened. His kisses continued, and finally, Liz gently turned her mouth away from his avid lips. “I’m not ready for this,” she said.
Reluctantly, he pulled back. He didn’t leave, however, and Liz had the disturbing feeling that he was debating how serious she was. Very serious, her eyes told him when their gazes clashed. Mustering a smile, he said good-bye and strode back to his car, so tense he could have had the proverbial broom up his butt.
“Brother,” Liz muttered to herself as she stepped inside her cabinlike home. Moonlight striped the floor, arresting Liz’s arm in midmotion as she reached to snap on the switch. It was beautiful, and her senses were starved for beauty. With a growing feeling of melancholy she didn’t quite understand—but sensed was somehow related to Hawthorne—she slipped into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator, the only illumination the light bulb inside the door.
She was pouring herself a glass in the dark when stumbling footsteps up her porch stairs sounded. Blam, blam, blam! A fist pounded her door and Liz jumped, spilling the wine. Choked gurgles. Crying. Hard breathing.
“Who is it?” Liz asked, moving through the dark.
“Tawny!”
Recognizing her voice, Liz flung open the door and Tawny fell into her arms, sobbing. “What happened?” Liz cried, imagining terrible scenes.
“Jesse’s dad is horrible! He yelled at Jesse. And then he started drinking and he screamed at both of us. I could just die! He scared me! He’s so mean!”
“He scared you? What happened?” Liz led Tawny to the couch. Her body trembled like a newborn lamb. Reaching around her, Liz flicked on a lamp. Upon seeing Tawny’s white, frightened face, she pulled her into her arms. “Oh, babe. Are you okay?”
“No.” Her lower lip quivered and she buried her face into Liz’s neck. Liz stroked her hair and Tawny silently cried, finally heaving a great sigh and pulling back, scrubbing her tearstained cheeks. “Can you tell me now?” Liz asked.
“I was with Jesse at—at his house. We weren’t doing anything,” she added hurriedly. “Well, we were kissing, but it wasn’t—” She broke off.
“I understand. It’s okay.”
“Then he came in the house, and he was so cold. Started demanding what Jesse was doing. I felt terrible. It was awful.” She began to shake anew at the memory.
“He was mad because . . . ?”
“We were on the couch.” Tawny swallowed. “Kinda lying down.”
“Ahhh . . .” The scene unfolded in Liz’s mind and she didn’t know how to feel. She was a bit touched at their youthful romance, an even tinier bit concerned based on her own mistakes, and a lot more amused. But she couldn’t show that to Tawny.
“He just went nuts! Told Jesse to take me home. Jesse can’t drive, but he did something kind of stupid, and that’s what really started things.”
“What did he do?” Tawny hesitated, and Liz said again, “Tawny, what did he do?”
“He took his dad’s keys and said he’d drive me home. And his dad just started yelling!”
“Jesse’s father just got out of the hospital and it hasn’t been a great day for him,” Liz said. “I saw him earlier. You know adults have problems, too.”
“He’s a crazy maniac.” Tawny was having no excuses.
Liz debated on explaining a bit of Jesse’s history; she knew enough about her son from Brad’s confessions to understand Hawk’s position. After all, Jesse and Brad hadn’t been above hot-wiring vehicles in the past. But gazing into Tawny’s tear-drenched eyes, she thought better of it. Her information was given in private; Jesse would have to tell Tawny all the details of his colorful past himself.
“He told Jesse to get rid of me. They had a terrible fight and then Jesse and I left and we ran here.”
“Tawny, that’s miles away!”
“I know! And now my mom’s probably crazy with worry, but I’m afraid to call her. And Jesse just took off!”
Liz picked up the phone and
put a call in to Kristy, allaying her fears with a terse explanation that Tawny and “her boyfriend” had had a fight and that Tawny was finding solace with Liz. Kristy was too relieved to be jealous that Tawny had turned to Liz instead of her, and Liz thanked the fates for small favors when Kristy herself suggested that Tawny spend the night with her.
“Want a cup of cocoa?” Liz asked, enjoying the thought of an evening by the fire with her favorite “niece.” She poured the wine back in the bottle and set a kettle on the stove.
“Jesse was worried about his dad drinking,” Tawny said when Liz brought them both a steaming cup.
As well he might, Liz thought, wrinkling her nose. Her memories of Hawk’s drinking days weren’t that far away. He’d been less than useless then—although undeniably attractive—and the only good thing from that period was the conception of Jesse Hart.
As Tawny recovered her composure, she told more. “They had a rip-roaring fight and said terrible things to each other.”
“People do that when they’re mad,”
“Jesse wasn’t going to take it,” she said with a touch of pride. “He told his father—a thing or two.”
“And how did that go over?” Liz asked. She could well imagine.
“Not very well.” Tawny half-laughed. “His dad threw him out of the house.”
“What?” Liz asked in a deceptively calm voice. From neutral third party, she was fast becoming emotionally involved.
“He and Jesse were yelling and then they were in each other’s faces.” At the memory, Tawny huddled inside herself. “They were swearing something awful!”
Liz’s own blood began to boil. To hell with his injury; Hawk really should have more common sense. What kind of parent was he anyway?
Working up righteous indignation was just the tonic Liz needed for her nebulous woes. She wanted to be mad. Hawk had no right to treat Jesse like some sex-crazed maniac just because he had a girlfriend—Tawny Fielding, no less!—over for a couple of hours.
“Dads can really go nuts sometimes,” Liz muttered, thinking of Guy Fielding’s no-compromise stance.
“No kidding,” Tawny breathed. “Jesse’s dad’s a policeman and he doesn’t know when to quit!”
“Boy, is that ever the truth,” Liz agreed. Yep, this being mad thing was lots better than worrying about whether he cared about her even a smidgeon and whether he thought about their time on the couch—the same couch, by the sound of it.
“He called Jesse a bastard,” Tawny revealed in a small voice.
Simmering anger boiled over. Liz jumped to her feet, infuriated.
“Where are you going?” Tawny asked, surprised.
“I think it’s time someone pointed out to Mr. Hawthorne Hart just who the bastard is.”
“Aunt Liz!”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
* * *
Hawk ran his hands over his face and wished he were anywhere but Woodside, Washington. He’d been deluded to think he could come back here and make a home for himself and his son. There was too much baggage. And damn it all to hell, Liz was here.
Okay, she’d followed him; she’d confessed that much. So, it hardly mattered where he was because she was bound and determined to fit herself into Jesse’s life. He just hadn’t expected to want her to fit into his as well.
The alcohol sloshed in his brain. He was coherent enough to know that. That was what always happened. Slosh, slosh, slosh. He might not be a flaming alcoholic, but he definitely had a drinking problem and he was never—after the debacle of this evening—ever going to drink again. But the evening wasn’t over yet . . .
Attempting to raise two fingers for the Boy Scout code of honor required way too much effort for the task. With a sigh, Hawk sank onto the couch and wished he’d been calmer with Jesse.
But spying him lying atop the Fielding girl had been a hard slap to the face. He’d made those mistakes in his youth—and beyond—and he’d be damned if he’d see sex and fatherhood added to Jesse’s list of youthful transgressions.
Please, please, let him have a whit of common sense!
It was fruitless to pray for it now. It had been fruitless when he was young to tell him anything. But he wanted more for Jesse. Better. And the fact that Jesse was fighting him tooth and nail on all these issues just made Hawk more determined.
With a head already throbbing, Hawk reached for the tall-necked beer he’d uncapped in the kitchen. He’d uncapped a few this evening; cleanup tomorrow would be a bitch.
They’d taken off together, Jesse and the Fielding girl. For the life of him, Hawk couldn’t remember her first name. He’d half-expected Jesse to take the Jeep—he’d certainly threatened to—but they’d hoofed it to their destination, wherever that was.
Wincing, Hawk asked himself if he’d caused the very situation he’d hoped to avoid: maybe they were making love right this very moment. He shouldn’t have overreacted.
A roaring engine filled the silence of the room. Headlights scanned the walls. The motor switched off, then sharp footsteps sounded up the porch steps.
Hawk lifted his head. It was nearly eleven. Who would be coming to see him at this hour?
In a whirl of fury and a hot autumn wind, Liz Havers suddenly burst through the front door.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded.
Chapter Thirteen
Hawk struggled to his feet. He detested the cast and his infirmity, and it was a hell of a problem to have any dignity at all when you teetered on one leg. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, bracing a hand against the wall.
She was beautiful. Anger tinted her cheeks a warm pink and her eyes glimmered a hot blue. He’d always known about her beauty, but it had been something he’d denied. He’d needed to lessen her affect, belittle her power, keep himself distanced because it wasn’t fair to Laura.
His first reaction was pleasure, but the look on her face brought him up short.
“You’re the bastard,” she told him in a tight voice, raking her hair away from her face in a gesture Hawk could only describe as sexy.
“I’m the bastard?” he repeated.
“Not Jesse.”
At sea, Hawk blinked several times, trying to make sense of this. Dimly, he realized Liz had somehow gotten involved in his and Jesse’s fight. Had Jesse confided in her?
“It doesn’t take a professional to know how dangerous negative labeling is,” she spat out through clenched teeth. “You’ve been a parent for years. Haven’t you learned anything?”
“What label did I use?”
“You can’t even remember!”
Hawk shrugged.
“You called him a bastard,” she said, her eyes sparking with maternal fury.
“I did not call him a bastard.”
“Oh?” She didn’t believe him.
“He called me a bastard,” Hawk corrected her, “and a few other choice names when I told him he couldn’t have sex in my house, or something to that effect.” The fight was a little fuzzy, but Jesse’s reaction to the stricken look on his girlfriend’s face was memorable. He’d practically grabbed Hawk by the throat and hadn’t only because of his broken leg. Remorse had settled over Hawk until Jesse’s language deteriorated, and then he’d grabbed his son’s forearms and they’d been locked in a battle of wills that far outstripped the frozen clamp they had on each other.
That Hawk had been balancing himself was something they’d both understood even in the heat of anger. Jesse had released him and Hawk had collapsed against the wall again.
“They took off together,” he said shortly. “But I guess you’ve seen them.”
“I saw Tawny.” Liz’s voice was steel. “She was destroyed.”
Tawny. That was it. For a moment, Liz seemed at a further loss for words, but then she took a deep breath and, to Hawk’s chagrin, started in again.
“What is it about parents of teenagers? I swear, I’ve seen hundreds of them and it’s as if the child hits a cert
ain age and the parents lose all their brains. They just spill right out of their heads. What are you trying to do? Force them into bed together?”
“I was exercising a little parental control,” Hawk growled, hiding his feelings. It was a direct hit. He’d just been asking himself the same questions. But he didn’t need Liz Havers, psychologist, throwing judgments on him. “Stay out of it.”
“And let you deal with it? You’re doing a crackerjack job already.”
“Like you know a damn thing about it.”
Liz flushed. “I never had a chance to be a mother.”
“You tried to throw that chance away. Permanently!”
“Not my choice. It was against everything I believed in and wanted, and luckily, it didn’t come off!”
“Only because I intervened.”
“Well, I see you’ve turned to your favorite anesthetic,” she said scornfully, adroitly dodging the issue.
Hawk, however, was sober enough to catch her. “Is that what you learned in psychologist school? If you don’t like what you’re hearing, change the subject?”
Liz glared at him. She wore her jeans and a cream shirt, but the swell of her breasts seemed highlighted within the buttery soft cotton fabric. He wanted to touch her. He didn’t want to fight her. He wanted those lips soft for kissing, instead of tight with accusations.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
“Not enough,” Hawk corrected. He’d like to be stinking drunk, then maybe he’d get over his fascination with her.
“Where’s Jesse?”
“Still out. The last I saw he was with Tawny.” Hawk swallowed a long swallow of beer and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He could feel her gaze drilling into him.
“You really scared her,” Liz told him. “And she’s already scared enough of men.” At Hawk’s questioning look, she explained, “Her father’s demanding custody. He’s planning to take her to Seattle this weekend, something he’s never done before. I just talked to her mother.”
“What’s your relationship to her?”
“Kristy and I are friends. Tawny’s like a daughter to me.”
“You’re just chock full of maternal feelings, aren’t you?”