“I don’t have any clients waiting for anything right now.”
“But if you’re here, you can’t get clients,” he pointed out.
“Dad, the whole point in having my own business is so I can work when I feel like working. I don’t plan to become a millionaire by sewing and hanging curtains.” She had a few benefits from the Army, and she’d invested Steve’s life insurance, so if she lived frugally she didn’t have to worry.
“As much as you like reading, I figured you’d open a bookstore. I could float you a loan for that.”
She smiled, because her father was always offering to float a loan to her for one thing or another. “I’d love to open a bookstore, but I think it would impinge on my freedom. It’s more difficult to get away from a business that has set hours.”
“You could move home, go to one of the schools around here, and get yourself a college education. You were always smart, Rena.”
“I know, Dad, but I feel like I’m too old for school now.”
“Jack went to school. You helped him, and he’s older than you.”
But she thought Jack had had something to prove. And she didn’t have anything to prove, nothing she wanted to do that required a college education. Although she knew she’d benefit from the learning, she wanted to do other things with her time.
“I don’t want to spend my time studying,” she admitted.
“But you liked studying—”
“When I was seventeen. I also liked being a cheerleader and doing cartwheels. But I don’t want to do either of those right now.”
“You changed, Rena.”
“We all change, Dad.”
He released what sounded like a burdened sigh. “Let’s get back to your mother’s things.”
Thank goodness. She knew she was being particularly touchy this afternoon, but she wasn’t in the mood to have her actions and judgments questioned.
She reached for another dress, a lovely blue one with a swirling skirt. She considered simply moving it to the right side of the closet, but held it aloft instead and raised her brows.
“That can go,” her father said gruffly.
She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Really? Well, that’s certainly a first.”
“She wore that thing the day the doctor gave her the damned diagnosis,” he grumbled as though it were cursed, as though if her mother had worn something else she might have received a clean bill of health.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I know everything brings back memories. Honestly, we can do this another time.”
“I’d rather get it done.”
“Okay.” Carefully she folded the dress and placed it in the box that she planned to drop off at the church later.
“Want to tell me now about the fella that gave you that love bite on your neck?”
She jerked upright so quickly that she almost threw out her back. “Not particularly, no.”
Turning away from him, she pulled a frilly blouse out of the closet and held it up for his inspection. He gave a brusque nod. She dropped it into the box.
“He from around here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes.” She gave him that much in hopes that he’d be satisfied and move on—
“Does he have a name that I’d recognize?”
“Probably not.”
“Why don’t you give it to me and then we’ll know for sure.”
With a sigh, she let her shoulders sag. “Dad—”
“I know, I know, you’re a grown woman. But if I don’t worry about you, then I have to worry about me. What am I going to do without your mother?”
“The same thing I’ve done without Steve. Take it one day at a time.”
He gave her a sad smile. “Your mom and me…we had such plans for when I retired. I’m about as close to retirement as a rancher can get. I’ve sold off my cattle, sold off parcels of my land…all too late. I grumbled that entire cruise, worrying about the damn cows. I never took time away. She insisted, though. Our twenty-fifth.” He nodded sagely. “I should have danced with her more.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, leaning against the door jamb, she decided they were probably done for the day. Every time she tried to help her father sort through things, he ended up drifting into memories.
“ ’Bout near killed me to tell her that I was all right with her leaving if she was ready to go. I wasn’t, you know. But I knew I never would be, and she was struggling too hard to stay.”
She crossed the room, sat beside him on the bed, and wrapped her arms around him. “I know, Dad.”
“I should have danced with her more.” He patted her hand with his, gnarled and wrinkled from years of labor, but still so strong. “I think Steve would have told you to let him go.”
Tears flooded her eyes, her chest tightened. Was that where he’d planned for this conversation to go all along? To offer absolution for what he might be guessing had transpired last night?
It had always been her mother she’d confided in while her father spent the time after dinner sitting in front of the television with the newspaper and a glass of comfort beside him. Southern Comfort. She wondered now if he’d paid more attention that she’d ever realized.
“Dad—”
“You need to dance more, Rena. Don’t wait until you’re as old as me to realize that, because by then the arthritis makes it hard.”
A tiny bubble of laughter escaped, and she hugged him tightly. “Oh, Dad, aren’t we a mess?”
“I reckon we are. Take all her clothes to the church. She’d chastise me for waiting until they were out of fashion to do so. You know your mom. Always giving to others more than she ever gave to herself.” Stretching, he rose to his feet. “Time to find my grandson and take him fishing.”
After watching him amble from the room, she turned to the task at hand. She packed away all her mother’s clothes, except for the green evening gown. She decided to leave it hanging in the closet to serve as a reminder to them both that they needed to dance more.
When she was finished packing, she went to her bedroom, sat on the edge of her bed, picked up the phone, and dialed a number she knew from memory. Two rings later—
“Morgan.”
“Hi, Jack.”
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“Is this a bad time to call?”
“No, I’m in the office doing some paperwork. We’ve had a couple of convenience store robberies.”
“In Hopeful?”
“Yeah, I think maybe it’s a punk passing through. But you didn’t call to discuss police work.”
“No, I just wanted to hear a familiar voice. How are you?” In many ways, Hunter reminded her of Jack: tall, broad-shouldered, dark complexion. But Jack’s eyes were a startling blue.
“Happily married.”
She laughed. He’d married Kelley, his high school English teacher. They had a lot of history that Serena didn’t quite understand, but she knew two people who were in love when she saw them. “I’m glad to hear it. How is everyone else?”
“Doing great. How are things there?”
“Dad’s doing pretty good.” She’d always appreciated that Jack had gotten along so well with her parents, that they’d made him and his son feel so welcomed the first time they’d visited. They’d even invited them to spend time at the family beach house on occasion. “He misses Mom.”
“Yeah, I imagine he does. She was a swell lady. If there’s anything I can—”
“You already did it, Jack, by being here for the funeral, handling so many of the arrangements. It meant a lot to the family.”
“Your family means a lot to me, Serena. When are you going to come home? Jason isn’t used to doing things without his buddy. He’s missing him.”
“I’m not sure when we’re coming home. Riker is missing Jason—and you. I think he’s always thought of you as the man in his life.”
There was a brief silence, and then, “So why’d you really call, Serena?”
She closed he
r eyes. Jack knew her too, too well. “I did something…crazy last night. I went out.”
“About damn time.”
She rolled her eyes. Jack had been after her for some time to start going out. Every other weekend he took care of Riker so she could have time to herself. And she’d always curled up with a book. “I thought you’d be glad to hear about that.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled. Didn’t it go well?”
“Well, that depends. I did meet someone.”
“Good for you.”
Because it was Jack, because they’d shared so much, she could reveal the truth.
“I slept with him.”
“Was it good?”
“It was great.” She released a startled laugh. “Oh, God, Jack, I’d forgotten how good it could be.”
“I’ve been telling you for years, Serena, that you’re too young to be spending all your nights at home alone.”
“I know. I’ve just never done this kind of thing before.”
“You gonna see him again?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s stopping you?”
What was stopping her? “I barely know him. I’m having second thoughts about last night.”
“So that’s the real reason you called.”
“Yeah. I certainly can’t talk to Dad about this. I’ve lost touch with all my friends around here. You’re the only one I can share this with.”
“Did you like him?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Then see him again. Have a summer fling.”
“But, Jack, I’m a mother—”
“You’re a woman, Serena. A young, attractive woman. Live a little.”
“It’s different for a woman than it is for a man, Jack.”
“Doesn’t have to be. Not in this day and time. Go have some fun. You deserve it.”
“Maybe I will. Thanks, Jack.”
“For what?”
“For always being there.”
She hung up the phone and returned to the closet in her parents’ bedroom. She skimmed her fingers over the evening gown. It was never an easy process to pack away a life. The hardest part was making sure that one didn’t pack away one’s own life. She was beginning to realize that she’d deluded herself into thinking that she hadn’t done just that six years ago.
She’d always been there for Riker, been there for Jack and Jason. But when was the last time that she’d truly been there for herself?
Last night. Last night, she’d felt like a woman! Attractive, desired.
Then this morning, she’d been like her father worrying about the cows. Good Lord. A handsome man had taken her to bed, and instead of savoring the moments when she’d awoken, she’d started feeling guilty.
Jack and her father were telling her the same thing. Get out, have fun. But she needed more than dancing in her life. She wanted more than dancing. She wanted to wake up next to a man. She wanted love and passion. She wanted once again to experience the joy of living.
Chapter 5
Sitting at the bar, Hunter noticed her the second she walked through the door. The tension eased out of his body the way it did when he spotted his prey under the cover of darkness and knew that his mission was close to being completed. Only this time, he was hoping his mission was only just beginning.
Her gaze locked with his, and even from this distance, he noted a measure of uncertainty, her gait faltering before she headed across the room. Tonight she didn’t look as out of place, probably because she wasn’t trying so hard to look as though she belonged.
She wore a plain white blouse, the top buttons undone to reveal her throat and the slightest hint of her breast. Her snug-fitting jeans enhanced her trim figure and clearly revealed long legs that didn’t stop. The sensual sway of her tight little butt held him mesmerized until she slid into a booth where shadows formed a canopy of intimacy.
She didn’t walk like a woman who realized that men followed her movements with keen interest. She was sexy as hell, and the fact that she seemed totally unaware of her appeal made her even more attractive to him. Unfortunately, she also drew the attention of several other men in the room, and he figured if he didn’t respond to her arrival soon, he’d lose his advantage.
He signaled the bartender. “Another whiskey sour and a frozen strawberry margarita. Make it a schooner.”
He took a deep breath and released it slowly, knowing he was probably a fool for feeling as grateful as he did because she’d shown. He wasn’t a man who left things to chance, but tonight he’d wagered against fate. If she returned, he’d move forward. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t look back.
He was grateful that his resolve not to look back wasn’t going to be put to the test. He’d fought against his instincts to track her down all day. He possessed the skills. Locating objectives was how he made his living. He figured he could have located her by nightfall. She wouldn’t have been trying to hide from him and that would have simplified his task. But he hadn’t wanted to go into the hunter mentality. He wanted her, but only if the attraction was mutual. Her return led him to believe that it was.
Something about her had struck a resounding chord deep within him, and he’d known getting her out of his system would be difficult. Last night had been a fluke. Obviously she seldom frequented bars.
Still, she’d come back. Now he just had to decide what he was going to do about it. When the bartender returned, Hunter paid the tab, left a generous tip—he was suddenly feeling extremely generous tonight—grabbed the drinks, and strode toward the booth.
When he got there, on the off-chance that he’d misread her, he waited for her to acknowledge him, to give him permission to join her, which she did with a winsome smile that made his gut clench and his protective nature kick in. He set the margarita in front of her and slid onto the bench opposite her, when he would have liked nothing more than to sit beside her, slip his arm around her, and welcome her with a kiss.
She wore far less makeup tonight. Her short blond hair looked softer, not as stiff, gentle curls a man could run his fingers through without worrying about moving them out of place, because it was obvious that their place was wherever they happened to be. Her eyes had drawn him in last night, but he preferred tonight’s entire package.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” she said softly, her gaze flickering between his and the frosty schooner he’d set in front of her.
Resting his forearms on the table, he leaned nearer. “I know why I’m here. I was hoping you’d show.”
She lifted her shoulders. “And here I am.”
“And here you are.”
She concentrated on sipping her margarita, just as she had this morning sipping her coffee, as though she needed time to consider what she wanted to say.
“Do you come here often?” she asked.
“Last night was a first.” In more ways than he cared to contemplate. He’d never had trouble getting a lady out of his system. In only one night, she’d managed to burrow so deeply under his skin that he knew any more time in her company would be a big mistake—and here he was tempting himself.
“For me, too,” she said.
Nodding, he drank his whiskey sour.
“You figured that out last night, didn’t you?”
He set his glass down. “Yep.”
“What gave me away?”
He rubbed his jaw. He’d shaved tonight. Gotten a haircut this afternoon. Tonight it seemed their roles were reversed. While she’d been looking to gain someone’s attention last night, tonight he’d spruced up in hopes of gaining hers. “Your eyes, mostly.”
“Because of all the eye shadow and mascara—”
He shook his head. “Because you looked scared.”
“I’m still scared.”
“Me, too.”
Her eyes widened as though she were surprised by his confession. He was having a difficult time believing he’d revealed his true feelings. He’d spent so many years pretending to be what he was
n’t that sometimes he forgot what he was.
“Why are you scared?” she asked softly.
“I don’t have a lot to offer, and you strike me as a woman who needs a man who has a lot to offer.”
“You’re afraid you’ll get hurt?”
“It’s more that I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. Relationships aren’t my thing.”
“Are you unable to commit? Or unwilling?”
“A little of both, I guess.”
“So you’re here simply looking for a repeat of last night?”
He wished that was all he was looking for. It would certainly help to keep his life uncomplicated. He avoided answering her question by posing one of his own. “Are you?”
“I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Downing his drink, he decided the better part of valor would be to get up and walk out before she realized that regardless of what she might be looking for, he wasn’t it. He’d done things he knew she’d never approve of. Hers was a world of apple pie and baseball, a world she enjoyed because men like him did things that no one talked about.
But he had no interest in walking out. She was a curiosity, a woman who interested him outside of bed.
“What if you hadn’t spotted me when you came through the door?” he asked.
She tapped her glass. “I would have left.” She looked embarrassed with the admission. “So I guess I do know what I was looking for. I was looking for you. Which seems a bit odd. I don’t even know if Hunter is your first name or your last.”
“First. And yours would be?”
“Serena.”
Serena. He liked it. “It suits you.”
“My parents would be glad to know you approve.”
He liked the way she teased, the way she carried a note of warmth in her voice when she mentioned her parents. He’d never cared one way or the other whether his approved of anything.
“You drive a minivan. I assume you have kids?”
She gave him a smile so tender that it caused an ache to form in his chest.
“I have a son. Riker. He’s nine.”
He arched a brow. “Riker? That’s an unusual name.”
“His dad was a Star Trek geek.”
She wrapped so much fondness into the word geek that she left no doubt as to how much she’d loved the man, how much she still did. It was a path that he didn’t want to travel, unraveling her history with another man, knowing what she might have shared with her husband, what she would probably never share with Hunter.
Smooth talking stranger Page 4