Take Me Back (Paradise, Idaho Book 4)

by Rosalind James

  Damn. What was he, a glutton for punishment, sitting here watching that?

  “Not so much.” He guessed they were supposed to be having conversation here, so he went on. “That’s how it works for single dads.”

  “Why?” Her hand had stopped moving.

  He shrugged. “When there isn’t a mom at home, you find out that you’re not considered safe anymore. They don’t let their daughters spend the night.”

  If he’d wanted to stop fantasizing about Hallie, this had been a good way, because the thought was making his hand tighten around his mug. Why had he brought that up?

  Hallie’s eyes were snapping green again, which wasn’t at all what he’d been going for. “That’s terrible,” she said. “How could they think that about you?”

  “Protecting their girls? How can you blame them? It doesn’t feel good, but hey, I’m a cop. It’s not like I can be too surprised anymore about the things people can do.”

  “But not you. Especially not the man you are now, although I’ll admit that I’m still surprised by how much you’ve changed. That you got married at all, I suppose, and then all the rest of it.”

  “Call it shock treatment. The changes happened pretty fast, and then they kept happening.” He drank some more wine. It tasted better the more of it you drank, he discovered. Went down sweet and easy. Kind of like Hallie.

  “I never heard that much about how you got married,” she said. “Anthea never told me. Or maybe I never let her.” Hallie must be getting a kick from those drinks. She was looking a little buzzed. “Maybe I was still hurting over you.”

  All Jim wanted to do was scoot closer and take her hand, the one that was on the table now, just asking him to hold it. But he couldn’t. Instead, he said, “I’m way out of practice, but I’m pretty sure that if you’re looking to get somewhere, you’re not supposed to talk about your marriage.”

  “Mm.” She looked at him from under her lashes. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “You know that’s what I’m doing.”

  There was some pink in her cheeks. She took another sip of her drink, and he watched her swallow and tried to keep his eyes up high, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Well . . .” She seemed to be considering. “If you’re bitter, that’s true. But if you were happy? I think you can tell a woman about that. I think she might want to know that you know how to . . . love somebody. So tell me, Jim. How did that bad boy I knew end up married and with a baby at twenty-two? She must have been some woman.”

  This wasn’t Danielle Delgado. This was nothing but a headfirst plunge into complication.

  “She was,” he finally said. “She was tough, like you.”

  “I’m not tough.”

  “Sure you are. Tough doesn’t have to mean badass, hard-edged. Tough means you know what you’re worth, and you won’t settle for less. Tough means you stick to your guns and you know what’s right. And that’s you.”

  She moved her hand like she wanted to hold his, the same way he wanted to hold hers. “So what happened?” she asked.

  He drained his mug, looked around for the waitress, held up two fingers, and she nodded. Then he looked back at Hallie and said, “It was almost over before it really got started, is what happened. I was that same guy I’m sure you remember. Twenty-one, just out of Ranger School, cocky as hell. I thought I was all that, and Maya didn’t. I had to work hard to take her out and harder to get anywhere. And then I messed up a couple times, showed up when I’d been drinking, showed up late. She told me to go find somebody else, because she didn’t need that. But I didn’t want somebody else, so I talked her into giving it another shot. And I screwed up some more. One time too many, and she dumped my butt. Then I was about to deploy for the first time, and I went over to her place to try again, because I realized I didn’t want to leave it like that. Knowing you’re shipping out . . . that tends to put a different spin on things. I finally wised up that I wouldn’t be there, some other guy might be, and my chance would be gone.”

  He’d said it all too fast. He wasn’t used to being in this situation, but he’d been right. It was the absolute wrong topic. The waitress came over with the drinks, and Jim thanked her absently, turned the mug in his hands, then looked at Hallie again.

  She hadn’t said anything. She was just listening, so he went on in spite of his intentions. “That’s when she told me she was pregnant, and I said, ‘Let’s get married before I go, then.’ Who knows why I said it? Maybe because I’d never known my dad, and I’d watched my mom struggle all my life, and I didn’t want that to happen all over again. I didn’t want to be that guy.”

  “So you got married,” she prompted when he stopped. “Or engaged, I guess.”

  “No. I didn’t. She said no.”

  “Oh. Whoa.”

  “Yep. She said she didn’t want a partier, and she sure didn’t want a man she couldn’t count on. And that was it. I shipped out on a six-month deployment, knowing she was pregnant with my baby, that I wouldn’t even be back before that baby was born, and that I was no part of their lives. And then I got to Iraq and found out that being a Ranger was a whole lot different than training to be one. I saw things I’d never wanted to see, and did things that woke me up sweating afterwards. The first time you kill somebody . . . you’re not spending any time at all thinking about it in the moment, but you sure do think about it afterwards. All in all, I guess you could say that I did some growing up.”

  It was too much to say, it was no part of what he’d come here for tonight, and it was out there anyway.

  “And then what?” She wasn’t drinking anymore. She was just hanging on to that mug and looking at him.

  “And then I came home. Maya was living over at her folks’, and Mac was six weeks old. I went over there to see her—to see both of them—and Maya said hi and was so . . . careful with me. All I wanted to do was hold her, and I couldn’t. I got to hold Mac, though. Turned out that was enough.”

  She paused a minute, then said, “I guess you knew how. How to hold a baby, I mean. Because of Cole being so much younger than you.”

  “I did. But this was completely different. I thought I knew what to expect, and I didn’t have a clue. I held Mac, and she was . . . she was mine. She smiled at me.” He had to stop and take a breath, and his voice was shaky, to his dismay, when he went on. “I still thought I was a badass. I held my baby girl, she looked at me that way she still does, like she knew I was her dad, and that was it. I was done. Turned out I was no badass at all.”

  She put a hand out and set it on his. Public or no, she did it. “Oh,” she said. “Jim.”

  “Yeah. And, of course, Maya still wouldn’t take me back. I had to work for it again. I had to realize how much I wanted it, and prove it to her, too. So you could say,” he said, looking at Hallie, her eyes and mouth so soft, but her hand gripping his with plenty of strength, “that I’ve had practice.”

  “I’d say you’ve been through the fire and back again,” she said.

  “One way and another,” he said, “you could be right. So that’s it. That’s my story. What’s yours?”

  Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was Jim. So serious and so strong. So sexy, even when he was talking about loving another woman. After he’d come here to find her, had sat down with her like it was the only place he wanted to be, and had looked at her like she was the only woman in the room.

  She was confused. She was all upside-down. And she didn’t think it was the wine.

  “You know my story.” She took her hand back. What was she doing, holding his hand in public? It was the last thing she should be doing, and so was this. “It’s not that interesting. I was teaching, not killing people. And as you know, I’ve never been married. Never had kids. Nothing like you.”

  “Hard to believe you haven’t at least come close,” he said. “Looking at you tonight. That outfit . . . man, that’s pretty. Or maybe I should say that you are, because that’s true, too. Anyway, it’s what I told you. My
deal—that was nothing but an accident that worked out better than I had any right to hope. You made as many real choices as I did, seems like. A lot of tough choices. But no special guy, in all these years? Nobody you ever said yes to?”

  “Nope.” She took another sip of warm, spicy wine for courage. It was probably a mistake. It was her third. Just like that night on Paradise Mountain. Another thought she didn’t need to be having right now. “I’ve always backed off, or chosen guys where it’d fizzle out on its own, maybe. Because I didn’t have much of a model of a good man, or maybe . . .” The sneaky tendrils of desire were sliding their slow, insidious way down her body again, touching her everywhere, curling into all her secret spots exactly the same way Jim had done in that shower. Like he knew exactly where she wanted to be touched, and exactly how she needed it. And like touching her was all he wanted to do. The same way he was looking at her now. “Maybe,” she heard herself saying, “the kind of guy I wanted, the tough kind, the fierce kind—maybe I didn’t trust that guy. And the guys I trusted didn’t turn me on. Maybe I’ve got a thing for the wild side, even though it scares me to death. Maybe I want a man I can trust to take me there, and to keep me safe along the way. Maybe I want that, and I’ve never found it.”

  Was it warm in here? She was burning up. It could be the way he was looking at her. Or it could be what he said next. “You’re saying you want a guy who’s out there on the edge. One who’s going to pull you up there with him.”

  “No.” She couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t stop looking into his eyes. “I want a guy who’s going to push me over the edge. I want a guy I can fall with, because he’ll be holding me all the way down. I want a guy who’s going to pull me screaming down the other side.”

  She was drowning in his hard gaze, his hard body. He was leaning across the table like he wanted to take her there right now. But he was on the other side of the table, where he needed to stay. And the restaurant was full of people.

  She realized she was fingering the little turquoise pendant at her throat, running soft fingers over her collarbone, just because she needed the touch of a hand. She’d never burned for it more. And her own hand wouldn’t do.

  She recognized the thought, rejected it, and dropped her hand. That was more than enough. And still, the next words out of her mouth were, “I’m a little drunk, officer. I’m not sure I’m good to drive home. What do you think? Would you arrest me?”

  All right, it seemed she wasn’t quite done. And it was cheesy. So what? It was just flirting. It was as close as she was getting to sex, and if fantasy fuel were all she was getting tonight, she was going to take it.

  If they were done, Jim hadn’t gotten the memo, because his voice was the slowest, darkest caress. “Yeah,” he said. “I would. I’d arrest you in a heartbeat. We could go out to my truck and test your levels right now. Or you could do something else. The Hilltop Inn is right down the road. You could leave your car here, walk on down there, get a room, and sleep it off. All night long.”

  She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. And she was saying it anyway. “Maybe I will. I could get something by the back door where it’s quiet. What do you think?”

  She thought his eyes were glazing over some, but maybe it was the wine. Hers or his. He said, “I think that’s a real good idea.”

  “I’ll go, then,” she said. “By myself. I’m supposed to be by myself.”

  “You got your phone? Just in case?”

  She reached under the table for her purse, and when she came up again, he was looking down her shirt, and not even pretending he wasn’t.

  She hadn’t been sure, when she’d put this outfit on tonight, whether it was too much. Whether the top was too clingy or the skirt too short. Now, she was sure. It was too much, and it was perfect.

  She said, “Got it right here. Looks like I’m all set to be safe. All night long.” Then she slid out of the booth, pulled two twenties out of her wallet and set them on the table, picked up her jacket, slid it on, zipped it slowly up and pretended she was undressing instead, and watched him watch her do it.

  “Pay my check, will you?” she asked him. “I’m out of here.”

  THE WILD SIDE

  The room was eighty-nine dollars. Plus tax. The price had given Hallie a momentary qualm, coming on top of that dinner and those expensive drinks. More than a hundred thirty dollars for one night out?

  Then she’d remembered, even through the fuzziness from two and a half strong mulled wines, that she had tens of thousands of dollars in the bank. Even though she didn’t want to go down that road, didn’t want to feel like the money was hers to spend. Especially if she were risking the rest of the inheritance right this minute.

  She wasn’t a wealthy person, and she wasn’t a reckless one. She wasn’t impulsive. Well, she was, but she didn’t want to be, because impulsivity led to heartache and regret, and she knew it. But here she was, sitting on a king-sized bed after spending full price on a motel room she didn’t need, hoping that she wasn’t risking millions of dollars just so a man would join her for one night of sex with no strings attached. A man she was afraid she cared about a whole lot more than that.

  Teeth. She headed into the bathroom to brush them with the toiletry packet she’d requested from the bored young woman at the front desk. She contemplated a shower, too, then decided it was overkill. She’d miss Jim’s call, and besides, she’d just taken a bath. She was clean. She was pretty. She was perfumed and soft skinned and fresh and . . .

  And stupid, and reckless, and alone. She’d texted Jim when she’d gotten into the room. Good suggestion. I got a place in back. Nice and quiet. Which had seemed ambiguous enough. Texts could be traced, but that one wasn’t proof of anything. She’d never said motel, or join me, or anything, and neither of them would be parked in the motel lot. At least she figured he wouldn’t.

  But she hadn’t heard anything back.

  She came into the room again, set the phone on the bedside table, pulled the comforter back, sat on the edge of the bed, then stood up.

  She should take off her boots, maybe. But that would look like she was waiting for him.

  He knows you’re waiting for him.

  Then why didn’t he come? Maybe she’d gotten it wrong. Maybe he really had been suggesting she sleep it off instead of driving home. He’d just spent fifteen minutes telling her how much he loved his wife.

  Because you asked him to.

  What was that he’d said? I’m way out of practice, but I’m pretty sure that if you’re looking to get somewhere, you’re not supposed to talk about your first marriage.

  He had been looking to get somewhere, because he’d shaved tonight, too. He’d taken a shower, he’d shaved, and she’d bet he’d changed. And he’d looked at her like all he’d been thinking about was delivering the rest of everything he’d promised in that shower. He still loved his wife, but he wanted Hallie. That was enough.

  Well, no, it wasn’t. But she could make it be.

  She went across to the lone window and pulled back the drape. Nothing but blackness out there. If it had been daylight, she’d have seen a field, and some houses behind it. She dropped the drape, went back to the silent phone, and picked it up.

  Nine forty-eight. More than fifteen minutes since she’d left the restaurant.

  The phone dinged, and she almost dropped it. The green balloon said, Cold out here. and that was all.

  Key card, she thought. She picked up the white rectangle, opened the door into the empty hallway, and walked fast to the back door. Nobody visible through the glass. Nobody there.

  She shoved at the handle, and the door opened into the cold air, freezing her instantly, since she was wearing nothing but the thin top and skirt. And Jim stepped out from the shadows beside the door. He was through so quickly she had to take three fast steps back, and then he was on her. The door whispered shut, and he was pressing her against the wall next to it, one of his hands behind her head, clutching tight, holding her for him. And h
e was kissing her. Devouring her, the same way he had every single time. And this time, she wasn’t telling him no.

  His lips were warm and firm and so demanding, and he tasted like cinnamon and cloves and brandy. His big hand was inside her top already, too, going straight to a peak that had sprung to attention as if he’d ordered it to. His hand was freezing, but his touch was a live wire, a jolt straight down her body. Hot and cold. He kept on touching, squeezing now, and the electricity was buzzing through her in earnest. Going straight there and sparking hard.

  She heard a noise and wondered what it was, then realized she was whimpering. No, she was mewing. She was on her toes, her arms around Jim’s broad shoulders, the wall hard against her back, and Jim hard against the rest of her, his mouth forcing hers open, his hand inside her shirt, teasing, stroking, pinching, lighting her up.

  The voices took a moment to register. A woman talking and then a man’s laugh.

  “Whoa,” she heard, and realized that Jim wasn’t kissing her anymore. She opened her eyes and turned her head, the same way he was. He’d taken his hand from her breast, but the other was still thrust through her hair, holding her tight.

  A middle-aged man and woman were coming down the hallway, each trundling a suitcase behind them. The man cleared his throat and said, “Evening, folks,” and then they looked away, swiped their key card, and went into a room across the hall. She heard the woman’s soft laugh, a murmur from the man, and then the door shut behind them, and they were gone.

  Hallie did her best to smile at Jim, but he wasn’t smiling back. He hadn’t let go of her, either. “Take me to your room,” he said, his voice low. Dark. As sure as she wasn’t. “I need to take off your clothes. I need to touch you everywhere.”

  She took her shaking hands from his shoulders, and finally, he stepped back.

  A bad moment, then. Where was her key card? On the floor, where she’d dropped it when he’d grabbed her. Jim was already there, though, picking it up.