“You feel protective.”
“I can’t help it.” She went quiet for a minute, aware of his gaze lingering on her face. “I was thinking today,” she surprised herself by saying.
“About?”
“What I want to do after I graduate. It would be logical to get a master’s degree and go into social work, like Eve did, but I think I’d like to become a clinical psychologist. It’ll mean getting a PhD, but...” She shrugged.
The respect in his eyes was a big ego booster. “I thought you might go that route. You obviously had a good role model along the way.”
“I did. Her name was Selena Rodriguez. She really helped me pull it together. We still exchange Christmas cards, and she calls once in a while. She claims to be proud of me.”
Seth smiled. “With good reason.”
“You keep saying things like that,” she said in perplexity, “but I haven’t been all that mature about connecting with the Lawsons.”
“You were scared. When you’re scared, you become flippant. You pretend you don’t care. I could see you trying to do that, but realizing that would hurt their feelings. You lowered your guard more than you were comfortable doing, Bailey. That took courage.”
She looked at him helplessly. “I don’t feel brave. I feel like putting a pillow over my head and making it all go away.”
“Even me?”
Instinct urged her to deflect him. Maybe say a sultry You can share my pillow anytime. Be flip. But he thought she had courage. Being courageous meant being honest.
She took a deep breath. “Sometimes.”
And saw hurt before he shuttered his expression.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “This has been...intense.” She gestured toward him and then herself. “You deny it, but it’s not like I’m a nice woman a friend introduced you to. I’m Hope. I’m your miracle. And I’m Eve’s sister.”
His jaw tight, he listened but didn’t respond.
“And me, my whole life has been turned sideways and upside down. You’re the man who did this amazing thing when you dedicated yourself to finding me. You’ve been my rock through it all. You’ve taught me to enjoy sex.” Her cheeks had heated. In this context, enjoy was so bland. So inadequate to describe the storm of passion, the sweetness, the sense of closeness, all new to her. “So sue me. I live all day for you to come home and look at me the way you do, and talk to me, and take me to bed.” She gripped the fork as if it were a weapon and glared at him, however totally unfair that was. “And that scares me. Can you blame me if I sometimes wish I was back in my little cocoon?”
“What do you want me to say, Bailey?” For possibly the first time, he showed her what might be his cop face, completely closed off. He reached for a serving bowl and took a second helping.
“Nothing,” she snapped. “I’m being honest. That’s all.”
For a moment, he went utterly still. His eyes were intense in a still-expressionless face. “Bailey. You know I don’t want you to go, don’t you?”
She wanted to cry. How was she supposed to know that? He’d never said anything. But now that he had— “And you know that I have to, don’t you?” Her voice wavered, but she stared right at him, chin held defiantly high.
“I do. But there are other possibilities, you know. We could keep seeing each other. Talk on the phone.” He hesitated, expression wary. “I could look for a job down there.”
Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. He was offering to change his entire life for her? What if he did, and then realized he’d made a mistake? Maybe worse, what if he made that kind of sacrifice and all she did was end up hurting him? She’d never believed she’d so much as enjoy kissing a man, having sex with him. The jump from that to imagining herself trusting someone enough to go home to him every day, doing something like getting married...? And, oh God, would he want children?
Completely panicked, she shook her head and kept shaking it. The rest of her was shaking, too. “I’m not... I can’t...”
“Okay.” Expressionless, he set down the bowl and picked up his fork. “Good dinner. Thank you.”
Subject closed.
* * *
HE’D BLOWN IT, big-time. Seth winced, listening to Bailey rattling around in the kitchen. In theory, she was brewing coffee and loading the dishwasher. He wondered if she’d come back. And whether, if she did, he shouldn’t make his excuses and retreat to his office, or turn on the television. If he wasn’t mistaken, a Mariners game was on.
He sighed. Should he raise the subject again? Push a little, try to find out whether she’d reacted only out of fear, or whether she just didn’t feel that much for him?
Instinct told him that, unless she said something, he had to back off for now. She’d started by issuing a warning: I’m going and you can’t stop me, so don’t even try. Then he tried anyway, and that sent her into full retreat. Giving up—that wasn’t in him, but patience was going to be hard to come by this time.
Despite his determination, he was left wounded enough he almost hoped she’d head for the guest room tonight rather than assume they’d cavort in bed like always. He gritted his teeth hard enough to crack a molar. I’m being an idiot. If he was serious about her, what he needed to do was use every minute left to them to tempt her. Make sure she understood that he would never hurt her. Lower his pride enough to make sure she knew how he felt—assuming what he’d already said wasn’t enough.
If he was serious. What a crock. Of course he was. Had been since he’d galloped straight past the lust at first sight and got to know the complex, fearful, brave, smart woman she was. Hadn’t he just offered to quit his job and move to LA—concrete and smog?
He sensed her presence before he turned his head and saw her approaching the table, a cup of coffee in each hand. Her eyes held trepidation, which shook him. Was she afraid of him?
Pretending not to notice, he said, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She set down his cup and carried her own to the other side of the table. To the place that had, in a matter of days, become hers. “I didn’t even ask how your day was.”
He’d take as encouragement the fact that she actually looked as if she cared.
“I talked to Drew Stuart.”
She nodded. It wasn’t as if she’d have forgotten FBI Special Agent Andrew Stuart. Hamby was on the FBI radar big-time now, given his predatory nature and frequent crisscrossing of state lines. Seth had never had occasion to work with the FBI before, although he’d heard enough stories to be wary. There hadn’t been any need. Stuart had been gentle with Bailey and seemingly open with Seth during their continuing phone calls. He wanted Hamby, too, and had more resources than Seth did.
“Under the name Anna gave us, he was picked up for drunk driving in eastern Washington.” He paused, still feeling the intensity of the hunt. “Only eight months ago. No child with him. He spent the night in the Grant County jail, set up a payment schedule for the fine and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
“He went back to pick her up wherever he’d stashed her,” Bailey said flatly.
“Probably.” He gusted a sigh. “He might be between.”
Her troubled blue eyes met his. “Do you think he made another name change after that?”
“I think he probably just hightailed it out of the state,” he said in a hard voice.
“But...he must have seen articles about me. Even though he’s changed his name once, what if he does again?”
“Why would he? And, remember, it’s not that easy to do. He can’t afford good quality fakes.”
She nodded. Those eyes dominated a face that had become pale. “He may not come back to Washington for a long time.”
“I think you’re right. Doesn’t matter, though. We have a BOLO out. Stuart has been talking to agencies in a six-state region. Hamby’s name—both names—are flagged. He’s in deep shit if the state patrol anywhere pulls him over.”
“You really think you’ll catch him.” Her hands wrapped her cup
of coffee more as if she was warming them than as if she had any intention of taking a sip.
“Probably not me personally,” he conceded, wishing like hell he’d have the chance, “but I have every intention of keeping the pressure on. Next time he gets behind the wheel drunk, plants a fist in someone’s face or has a taillight out, his name should light up in neon colors when an officer runs his license.”
Bailey gazed down into her coffee. “If only I’d—”
“I thought we’d laid your guilt to rest.”
“It’s...hard.”
“I know, honey,” he said huskily. “I know it is.”
She lifted one shoulder before looking up. He knew even before she opened her mouth that she didn’t want to talk about Hamby anymore. And surely not about them.
“You’re really okay with me having Karen and Kirk here for dinner tomorrow?”
His eyebrows quirked. “Is it so hard to say ‘Mom and Dad’?”
The expression in her eyes damn near broke his heart. He’d just had to open his big mouth.
“I’m trying.”
Seth nodded. “Yes, I’m glad to have them here for dinner. They’re good people, and they’re your parents.” He laid some emphasis on the last, not surprised by the hint of nerves he saw on her face before she pulled up a smile.
“Mom’s such a good cook, I feel challenged. Gotta produce my best.” Rambling on, she suggested and discarded half a dozen menus.
When he said he thought everything she’d cooked had been as good as her mother’s meals, Bailey made a face at him. “You’re like a perpetually hungry teenage boy who inhales whatever somebody puts in front of him.” She frowned. “What do you do with all those calories?”
He patted his stomach. “Metabolize ’em.” With a grimace, he added, “Usually I run, lift weights at the gym, get up in the mountains with a pack. Belt felt a little tight this morning.”
“Oh, God, it’s going to be grim when I get back to the gym. It’s been weeks. Plus, usually I’m on my feet and hefting trays of food at the restaurant. An eight-hour shift is a workout, believe me.”
He didn’t like the reminder of how soon she’d be gone, but did his best to hide his reaction. “I do. I’ve always wondered how waitresses keep smiling.”
“Tips,” she informed him. “The sunnier the smile, the higher the tips.”
“Bet yours are sky-high,” he said, voice a note lower than usual.
“If that’s a compliment, I thank you, sir.” The bright smile she offered just before she jumped to her feet was the kind she’d offer diners at Canosa, he guessed. Did any of them ever suspect it was as fake as a counterfeit hundred-dollar bill? The spots of color on her cheeks, though, that was something different. “I need to finish cleaning the kitchen,” she said over her shoulder.
Right before she fled, leaving him to brood about his next move. Less inept than the last, he hoped.
* * *
THEY HADN’T EXACTLY had a fight, but Bailey knew she’d hurt Seth. Of course he’d shut down. She was lucky he’d been willing to talk to her after, that he could still say, I know, honey, in that tender voice.
Just thinking again about his offer to move, for her, made her start to hyperventilate. He said he admired her courage, but she didn’t feel brave. In fact, she’d never felt more like a coward. Couldn’t he see that? And if he did, why would he want her?
Sex—he could do that with other women.
Yes, but what she and Seth did wasn’t just sex, meaningless and lacking real emotion. It was making love. And that knowledge explained the panic that had her heart beating at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.
Because now she had a new fear. Had Seth accepted her no as final? What kind of fool was she to hope that, well, he hadn’t? That he’d give her time to figure out how much of what she felt now was real? And even if it was—did she really think she had even a glimmer of an idea how to love a man and accept his love? How to have a normal life?
Would he still want her in his bed tonight?
He was in the living room watching a baseball game. She stood just out of sight for a long time, hugging herself and feeling lonely in a way she didn’t when she was really alone. As she was used to being.
Finally she nerved herself to peek around the corner. Seth didn’t look as if he was enjoying himself. His expression was withdrawn, preoccupied. Some kind of action erupted in the game that had a player leaping into the air in an attempt to catch a ball that cleared his glove by inches. He smashed into a barrier and crashed to the artificial turf. Although Seth’s gaze was trained on the TV, he showed no reaction to the action. He didn’t care—or he didn’t see it at all.
Bailey closed her eyes for a minute, took a deep breath and strolled into the living room, nonchalant. “Hi,” she said.
His head turned and his gaze snapped to hers. He didn’t say anything.
She nodded at the TV. “Who’s winning?”
“Ah...” He glanced back at the game, telling her she’d been right. He’d been oblivious to the action.
“I’m bored,” she said softly. She sauntered closer, giving her hips a little extra swing.
His eyes darkened.
Bailey took a chance and plopped herself down on his lap. To her relief, his arm came around her. His mouth tilted. “Want to go out dancing?”
“I haven’t actually been dancing in years,” she confessed. “Since my wild phase.”
He gave a crooked smile. “I’ve been a couple of times in the last few years.” He paused a beat. “Reluctantly.”
“I’ve always thought I’d like to learn to ballroom dance, though.” She snuggled in, lifting a hand to his hard jaw. “I might take a class.”
“Don’t you need a partner?” He could have been strangling.
“Um.” Bailey loved the rasp of his evening stubble against her palm, which had never felt more sensitive. “A partner is good.” She sounded sultry.
“If this is an attempted seduction, it’s working.” Seth tilted his head enough to kiss her palm, then flick his tongue out. At her shiver, a dark gleam showed in his eye.
“Well, there’s the boredom factor,” she said lightly.
His hand slid up to cup her breast, gently shaping and reshaping it. “We ought to be able to take care of that.”
“Please,” she whispered, and kissed his throat.
A groan rumbled out of him and he groped to one side to lower the leg support on the recliner. “Bed.”
“I don’t know. I was kind of thinking this chair had possibilities.”
Seth froze.
“Do you have a condom in your wallet? Or do I need to go fetch?”
Jaw tight, he ground out, “I have one.”
Bailey batted her eyes. “So you can be spontaneous?”
“Something like that. Damn.” With no warning, he yanked her shirt over her head and sent first it, then her bra flying. A fraction of a second later, his mouth closed over her breast, hot, wet and urgent.
Bailey arched her back, moaned and tangled her fingers in his dark hair, holding herself up, and him close.
Every tug of his mouth sent a spasm through her. He switched to her other breast and she wriggled on his lap, wanting—
Eyes heated, he lifted his head and gripped her around the waist. “Straddle me.”
That was what she wanted. Once her knees were locked to each side of his hips, he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was all-out. The recliner rocked as their bodies rocked, intensifying the sensation. She rode the hard ridge beneath her, wanting him naked but also discovering the zipper and denim fly felt really good.
It was Seth who wrenched his mouth away and looked at her with eyes so heated, they singed her skin. “Enough!” he growled before tearing his shirt off, then zeroing in on the button at her waist and her zipper. “Bailey,” he said desperately. “Up.”
Mind fogged, she tried rising on her knees before realizing that, no, her jeans weren’t coming off unless she st
ood up. She slid off his lap, him grimacing, and they both peeled the denim and panties down. She ached. Every touch of his hands laid a trail of fire in its path. She looked down to see that she still wore fuzzy socks, but didn’t care. She scrambled back onto him even as he said, “Wait. Let me—”
She helped. He lifted his hips enough to grab his wallet, take out the condom and pull the jeans down enough to free his erection. The wallet thumped to the floor and he tore open the wrapper.
“Let me,” Bailey whispered.
“I don’t know if I can. God.” It sounded like a prayer, but he handed her the condom and watched as she slowly, delicately, covered him. And then with a strangled sound, he lifted her into place and lowered her until he was pushing inside her, going deep, so deep.
Each hard thrust rocked the chair. They looked into each other’s eyes as they moved. Bailey couldn’t even blink. She was so turned on it didn’t take a minute before she began to spasm, a keening sound escaping. Seth grabbed her hips, lifted and pressed her down, once, twice, his back arching so he could go deeper than seemed humanly possible. And just as she felt the throbbing inside, he flung back his head, his eyes closing at last, his grimace in the throes of pleasure fiercely male.
It was a very long time before they moved at all. And when they did, he cut off the TV with a stab on the remote, still ignorant of the score. Clothes were left where they were.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“SO.” BAILEY DIPPED a tortilla chip in salsa, studying her “sister,” who faced her across the table in the restaurant booth. “Do you still hate me so much you kick your puppy every time I cross your mind?”
Eve’s dark, sculpted eyebrows rose. “I don’t have a puppy.”
“Someone else’s puppy, then.” Bailey popped the chip in her mouth. The salsa had enough bite to be surprisingly good.
Suddenly Eve laughed. Really cracked up. “No. Not that much, anyway.”
Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1) Page 23