Jake knew the instant she made the connection between prison and needing all the fresh air he could get. All the freedom. The gentle understanding in her eyes made him want to strangle something. Pity was the last thing he wanted, from anyone.
"Sure,” she said. “What can I do to help?"
Several ideas surged into his mind, most of them involving getting naked, and half of them illegal in several states. “Nothing. Just make yourself at home. I'll bring the rest of the stuff out once the burgers are cooking.” He refused to invite her into the house with him. Having her that close and looking that good and not being able to touch her would be sheer torture.
He offered lemonade, she accepted. Their fingers brushed when he handed hers over, and Jake felt a damning jolt of sexual heat. He looked up and caught a faint flush in Rebecca's cheeks. Their eyes locked. Apparently she'd felt something, too.
Great, Jake thought. Just great. If he thought for one second she'd go for some hot, no-strings-attached sex, they'd be halfway upstairs already.
But that wasn't Rebecca, and never had been. Rebecca came with all kinds of strings.
"The yard looks nice,” she said.
"Thanks.” He'd spent most of the afternoon working on it. “It'd look better with some grass instead of these ratty clumps of weeds, though. I'll have to look into seeding it."
"I thought you were leaving right away."
"Can't hurt to fix the place up a bit before I unload it."
Strong emotion flashed in Rebecca's eyes, startling him. The unexpected flare-up passed too quickly for him to be sure, but Jake would have put his money on anger—or maybe bitterness.
Bitterness? Over his selling the house?
Maybe she expects you to stay.
She couldn't. If she knew him at all, she couldn't.
"You weren't by any chance around when Mickey died, were you?” he asked, changing the subject.
"I was with him."
"You? With him? When he died?” Jake didn't know what to say. “Why?"
"He didn't have anyone else, Jake. He collapsed in Tim's Tavern. He was in the hospital nearly six weeks before he died. I couldn't let him die there alone."
Jake stared, rocked to the core. Rebecca had liked his dad, sure. Pretty much everyone had like Mickey Donovan—when he was drunk and feeling fine. Which had been most of the time, even before his former socialite wife had taken a fist full of sleeping pills.
But after Eileen's funeral, after Mickey's showdown with old man Dillenger himself right there in the living room of the house where she'd killed herself, the secret showdown nobody but Jake knew about, Mickey had changed.
Still, Jake was pretty sure he was the only one who'd spent any time up close and personal with the dark side of his dad. The side that had kept Jake's inheritance from his mother—and God only knew what else—from Jake for over twenty years. “Then I owe you a lot more than a simple thank you,” he said quietly. I'm sorry. I'd have come back if I could've."
"Would you?"
He caught the edge in her question, but couldn't have taken offense if he'd wanted to. He hadn't been there. Rebecca had.
Forty-five minutes later Jake polished off the last of his second bacon cheeseburger with a satisfied grunt. “So how's Aunt Martha doing?"
In the lawn chair beside him Rebecca started. Apparently he'd caught her woolgathering. “Oh, she's still as active as ever. She and Ka—she and a—a friend are spending the week visiting friends in Erie."
"A friend?” Jake frowned, watching Rebecca's color rise. “As in male friend?” She turned even redder. Jake couldn't help but grin. “Rebecca,” he teased. “Do you have a problem with your, what is she now? Seventy-five year old aunt having a boyfriend?"
"Of course not! And she's seventy-eight."
"Then what's the problem? Then again, this is Warner. Land of the perpetually closed minds.” He switched to a more appealing subject. “Aunt Martha still make the best berry pies in three counties?"
The smile that flooded Rebecca's face was a reward in itself, even if it did hold more than a hint of relief. “Matter of fact. Taught me everything she knows, too. So if you're looking to snag yourself one, you'd be wise to be nice to me."
Jake couldn't help but grin back at her. “I'll consider myself warned. You know, I stopped by her house today, to ask after you. Never occurred to me you'd be living in the old place.” He paused, half waiting for her to jump in with an explanation. No such luck. “Anyway, I'm standing on the doorstep and this little old lady next door comes out to get her mail, squints over the rhododendrons at me and asks, “Can I help you, sonny?” Jake rolled his eyes. “Made me feel like I was in second grade, selling candy bars all over again."
Rebecca hooted. “You? Selling candy bars?"
"Yeah, well, that was before your time.” Before he'd learned that no matter what he did, it wouldn't be good enough.
Rebecca's laughter faded, but a breathtaking smile remained in her eyes. Jake could have stared into them all night long without any problem at all.
But he didn't have that right. Not after what he'd done.
"So you met Mrs. Schneider and she pointed you to the library,” Rebecca was saying. “I wondered who had. I guess she assumed you already knew where I lived."
Jake pulled his thoughts away from his regrets and chuckled dryly. “Truth is, after seeing you today, all decked out in your power suit, I expected you to be living in one of those places up on The Bluff, overlooking the bay."
The smile in Rebecca's eyes vanished. “Your mistake."
Ouch. “Jeez, Becca, last I heard that's what you wanted out of life. How many nights did we spend down at Dillenger's Marina, me skinny-dipping while you sat on one of the loading piers, dangling your feet in the bay and spinning your dreams?” He recalled how across the bay they could see the condos on The Bluff, their floor-to-ceiling windows glittering like big diamonds. How further down the shoreline were the secluded mansions of Glenhill, where his grandparents lived in a house just like the one Rebecca had always dreamed of owning. Big, expensive, and probably filled to the gills with antiques.
Jake wouldn't know. He'd never been inside.
"What happened, Rebecca?” Jake asked softly, unable to hold his curiosity any longer. “Why did you come back to Warner?” Had that rich Pittsburgh dude she'd been planning to marry dumped her? Decided she wasn't good enough for him and his family full of lawyers after all? Just the idea of it made Jake's blood boil. “You had such big plans."
Her expression never wavered. “Plans change."
"Oh?” If she was hinting he was responsible for any of the changes in her life, she couldn't be more wrong. He'd done what he'd done to spare her a wasted life, not push her into one. “Care to explain that?"
Rebecca continued to stare at him for what felt like an hour, then closed her eyes. She leaned her head against the back of the lounge chair and blew out a heavy sigh. “No. I wouldn't."
"Suit yourself.” Jake looked up at the stars and regrouped. After a few minutes of silence, he stole a glance at Rebecca's profile. Moonlight had always done great things for her skin, but tonight she looked awesome.
And totally torn up about something. Probably being with you, Donovan. Wondering if you're going to pull another hit and run on her.
"I don't suppose old man Feeney's still got his Gulf station out on the triangle,” Jake wondered aloud. The triangle, a prominently located patch of land at the east entrance to town, split the road in two, one branch heading downtown, the other around Dillenger's Bay and into Glenhill. Jake had always thought the triangle was the perfect location for a service station. The first one you hit coming into town, the last before you left. Feeney's had been the busiest place in Warner when Jake had been a teenager. A regular gold mine.
"Are you thinking of going back to work there?"
Hell, no, but no point in beating the subject of his leaving to death. Jake's lips tightened at the memory of Sheriff Sutter's visit
that afternoon. Warning him he was being watched.
That's all right, Sheriff. I'm used to being watched.
God, how he hated it. Feeling like he was living in some damn fishbowl. “You know anyone else in town who'd consider hiring me?” he tossed out more roughly than he intended.
Rebecca's hesitation didn't surprise him. But her answer did. “I know you didn't kill that woman, Jake."
He straightened, stunned by the conviction in her voice, in her eyes. For the first time in eight years, Jake felt the weight of another's trust, of another's belief in him. That it was Rebecca believing in him humbled him beyond words.
It also made him feel good inside. So good he felt ashamed of himself. He didn't deserve Rebecca's trust.
"Yeah, well you're wrong on that one, babe."
Rebecca went white as a sheet, then shot to her feet, empty plate in hand. “This is ridiculous. I have work to do."
Nice move, Donovan, now you've scared the shit out of her. Rising to his feet, Jake kept his plate and took hers. “How about I walk you home?"
She gave him a startled look. “It's just on the other side of the hedge, Jake."
He offered up his most non-threatening smile. “Not if we take the long way.” He figured he could stretch it to a twenty-minute walk or more if he handled it right. Suddenly it was important to him to make every minute count. To part on good terms. “You can fill me in on the local gossip."
Rebecca just stared at him, not seeming to know what to say.
"Never mind,” he muttered, turning toward the house in self-disgust. What was he thinking?
"Jake, wait."
He looked down at Rebecca's hand resting on his forearm, and flashed back to their night together in Pittsburgh. Heat pooled in his groin as he remembered the feel of those fingers in his hair, on his skin as he poured himself into her.
"What?” he growled, feeling confused and not liking it.
"I'm not afraid to be seen with you."
Gripping their dirty plates tighter, he met her cornflower blue eyes.
"We have a history, Jake,” she said quietly.
"As kids, Rebecca. Kids.” He refused to bring up their night in Pittsburgh. It shouldn't have happened, and he'd roast in hell before he'd let it happen again. Rebecca deserved better. So much better. “We're adults now. Adults on the opposite ends of the social spectrum—and not just in Warner. You're a pillar of the community and I'm a convict on parole. You think mamas are going to let their little darlings anywhere near your library if they think there's even the slightest chance they might run into me?"
Her fingers tightened on his arm, the pressure almost painful. “Then why did you come back, Jake? Why did you invite me to dinner?"
"Temporary insanity. I thought...” The heat from her hand spiked the heat in his groin. The look in her eyes demanded answers. He swore and pulled away, ignoring her hurt expression. “The truth is I wasn't thinking at all. If I had been, I never would have done it."
"Come home or invited me to dinner?"
"I didn't even know you were in town until I got here,” he shot back defensively.
"So if you'd known, you wouldn't have come back to Warner, is that it?"
Jake took a moment to corral his emotions. He turned away briefly and set their dirty plates on the cold grill in the darkness at the end of the driveway. “Listen, Becca, I don't know what gave you that idea, but..."
"You've been avoiding me for eight years, Jake. I think it's a reasonable assumption."
"Avoiding you? I've been in prison. For murder."
She flinched, but didn't back down. “They don't allow convicted murderers pens or paper in jail? Stamps or envelopes?"
He looked away, ashamed of his attempt to intimidate her, ashamed he'd stopped writing to her after all the letters they'd sent back and forth while he was in the army. “I thought it would be best if I stayed out of your life,” he said quietly.
"You thought wrong. We're family, Jake."
"Family? Is that what your cozy little homecoming set-up was all about? Because if it was, you're way off base, Becca. Way off. There's no way in hell we can go back to being buddies. Not after that night in Pittsburgh."
Rebecca flushed violently. Jake swore in bitter frustration. Now he'd done it. Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut and let her go?
"Was it that bad, Jake?"
The pain in her eyes, in her voice, stabbed into his heart. “Bad? Of course not. It was the most.” Terrifying experience of his life until that point, including his time in the army. And he'd been some scary places in the army. Four years apart, and within hours of seeing her again, Rebecca had turned him inside out. In one short night she'd made a complete sham of everything he'd convinced himself of concerning their buddy-buddy relationship, made his soul ache for everything he was never going to have. Her. A big house on the water she could fill with antiques to her heart's content. Kids. The whole shebang. He shook his head. The less said, the better. “No. It wasn't bad. Believe me."
"Then why did you leave without saying goodbye? Why did you run straight to another woman's bed?"
He stared, knowing he hadn't. Not by a long shot. It had taken him a solid week of hard riding—riding like the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels—to reach that dive in Wyoming. A vision of Christine, the long-legged, red-haired, blue-eyed rodeo widow who'd come on to him that night flashed across his mind. She'd said she was lonely—he'd been game. Several beers and a handful of slow dances later had them walking to her trailer in the court behind the bar, then kissing like there was no tomorrow on the kitchen table.
Until he'd realized what he was trying to do.
Until he'd realized Christine wasn't the red-haired, blue-eyed woman he wanted.
"It wasn't like that, Rebecca,” he said wearily.
"Then tell me how it was."
"No. It's over. The woman is dead. I've paid for it with eight years of my life. I don't want to re-hash the reason why. I had acres of time to cover that ground in prison."
Just then a car eased into the driveway, its headlights off. Suddenly a girl's voice screamed, “Oh, God, it's him!"
Jake swore as two more screams split the evening air and the driver hit the gas. He grabbed Rebecca and pushed her against the side of the house, putting himself between her and the car. The dark sedan lurched forward, hit the hibachi grill and knocked it over before screeching into reverse. Gravel sprayed the back of his jeans as the car peeled backwards out of the driveway. Tires squealed as the vehicle roared down the quiet residential street.
Neither Jake nor Rebecca moved for a good ten seconds. His arms were around her to protect her back, her hands gripped fistfuls of his shirt. Both of them were breathing hard.
Slowly Rebecca relaxed her hands and Jake stepped back, still holding her elbows. “Are you all right?"
"What was that all about?"
Jake willed himself to keep moving backward, away from the tempting warmth of her body, the sweet strawberry smell of her hair and skin. The urge to pull her close again and lose himself inside her unbelievable softness was just shy of painful. “Teenagers. Looking for a cheap thrill, I guess.” His fingers tightened on her elbows. “You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Just spooked.” But she was still breathing hard.
Simmering with residual anger and fresh regret, he forced himself to let her go. “I'm sorry, Rebecca. I never should've invited you over. I forgot how fast news travels in Warner. And how little there is for kids to do on a Friday night."
"It doesn't matter, Jake. And it was just kids.” She started brushing off her dress. Jake caught a flash of cleavage in the moonlight as she bent forward. He damn near cracked his molars gritting his teeth against the surge of need that boiled up inside him.
"It should matter,” he snapped. “Cell phones were probably burning up minutes all over town after my visit to the library this afternoon."
She stopped brushing and looked up at him. “S
o?"
He raked his gaze over her, making sure she couldn't mistake his meaning. “We both know I wasn't there to check out books, Rebecca."
She straightened slowly. “The town doesn't run my life, Jake. I do."
She looked so beautiful standing there. Tall and proud and completely sure of herself. Time had given her a confidence and maturity that looked good on her. Damned good.
"Give it a few days,” he growled, then looked away, disgusted with himself and the whole sorry situation. He never should have come back to Warner. Never should have stayed once he'd realized Rebecca was here. “Then tell me again."
"All right. I will."
Jake looked back at her in surprise.
"I have to work tomorrow, but I'll be over on Sunday around eleven to help you seed the yard,” she said, with what Jake would have sworn was blue fire in her eyes. “And as long as you're planning to fix up the place, the house needs to be painted. I'd suggest white. There's a sale on at Hull's Hardware. They open at ten tomorrow morning."
With that, she left. Jake watched her sail across his barren back yard, her sunny yellow skirt swinging sharply against her spectacular calves, and felt blindsided on too many levels to count. Apparently the quiet little bookworm he'd taken under his wing eighteen years ago had turned into a woman who didn't take anyone's crap.
Especially not his.
Chapter Three
Jake thought he was ready for Rebecca the next time she rounded the hedge that separated their yards. He was wrong. He watched her stride over to where he stood on the back porch, enjoying the warm Sunday morning breeze and considering his options on how to get rid of her when she showed up—and knew he didn't stand a chance.
"Hi,” she said, planting her hands on her hips and looking up at him with what had to be her best head librarian look. “Where do you want to start?"
He hadn't seen her since Friday night, guessed it was because the library was open on Saturdays until three, and she went to church on Sunday mornings. Apparently she knew as well as he did that getting together again on Saturday evening would have been a big mistake.
Jake's Return Page 2