She took a breath. “Dammit, Jonathan, I’m in love with you.”
His eyes filled with pain. “Christy—”
“I can live with what you do,” she interrupted, rushing to say everything she had to before he could walk away. “I want to.”
“How do you know that?” he asked sadly. “You’ve only known me a couple of weeks. You told me you and Keith were together two years before you decided to marry him.”
“And obviously two years didn’t tell me a thing,” she answered wryly. She shut her eyes, not sure she could bear looking at him while she said her last piece. “I know more about you after two weeks than I did about Keith in all the time we were together. You have integrity—”
He laughed mirthlessly. “If I do, then I have to do the right thing.”
“And you think the ‘right thing’ is leaving?”
“Yes.”
As angry now as she was hurt, she said, “Okay, then. Leave.” She left the room and headed for the stairs.
“Christy—”
“Excuse me if I don’t show you out,” she said. “You’ll have to find your own way.”
She continued up the steps, and a minute later she heard the door shut. She went into her room, lay down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Although tears welled up behind her eyes, she refused to cry.
After a while she got up and went to the dresser to brush her hair. Her gaze lit on the sand dollar she’d brought back from San Sebastian. She picked it up and turned it over gently in her hand. Like the sea creature, she was a survivor and would remain one. She’d made it through the last two weeks and she’d make it through the next…and the next.
And she’d develop her own case of amnesia: forget Jonathan Talbot and everything about him.
Jonathan hadn’t slept well in a week. Doing the right thing wasn’t easy.
He rubbed his eyes as he opened his car door in the police garage. He missed Christy. Not just her warm body curled against his, but her smile, her voice, her companionship and conversation. He saw her face in the supermarket, on the street, and most of all, in his dreams. The reason, pure and simple, was that he’d fallen in love with her. But a future together was impossible.
He made his way from the garage to the meeting room where the Night Stalker task force was convening this afternoon for the last time. Everyone was already there, with one notable exception. Dell’s chair was empty.
Armand began. “We’re winding up today. I want to begin by thanking you all for your hard work. This was a tough one, and I know we’re all saddened by the fact that the killer was…” He cleared his throat. “…one of us.” He glanced around the table. “Anyone have anything to say about that?” No one responded. “Talbot, you have a report for us.”
“Right here.” Jonathan reached in his briefcase and passed out copies for everyone. There was silence as the others read the five-page summary.
When he’d finished reading, Armand pushed the papers to the side and said, “You all know that the grand jury made the case a priority. Dell was indicted earlier this week, and the court has appointed defense counsel. They’ll probably plead insanity.”
“And get him off,” Shannon grumbled.
“But he’ll be confined to a mental institution,” Marilee said. “Not much better than prison.”
“Our psychologist examined him yesterday,” Armand said, handing out a stack of papers, “and she concluded that he can stand trial. In fact, she said he would probably have gone on leading a normal life if his aunt hadn’t shown up and revived all those childhood traumas. He’d been pretty successful at repressing them, performing above-average as a cop, but Auntie appeared, and boom! He was off on a murder spree.” He shook his head. “God, what a mess. Okay, anyone have any questions before we write ‘finish’ on this one?”
No one did. As everyone filed out, Marilee fell into step with Jonathan. “How’s Christy getting along?”
“I’m…not sure. I haven’t talked to her.”
“Really? I thought you two were—” Jonathan’s grim face must have warned her to go no further. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.” She headed for the stairs. “It’s been great working with you. Hope we don’t have to do it again soon.”
“Me, too,” he said. He hoped they’d never have to do this again, but that wasn’t likely.
He continued down the hall, intending to clean out the desk he’d been using when Luis, who’d been walking ahead of him, slowed. “Yo, compadre, something go wrong between you and your lady?” He grinned. “I don’t mind sticking my nose in.”
“She’s not my lady,” Jonathan said stonily.
“Sure looked like it when I saw you together. Man, the way she looked at you was rich.”
“And also temporary.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Luis said. He put out his hand. “It’s been great working with you, Doc, as always.”
“Thanks, same here.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Luis said, “and if you ever feel like spilling your guts, I’m a good listener.”
“Thank you,” Jonathan said. He cleaned the last batch of papers out of the office he’d been using and left police headquarters, relieved to put the Night Stalker case behind him. Now maybe he could get on with his life, such as it was.
At home later, he checked his answering machine. “Hi, there.” A woman’s voice.
For a second, he thought it was Christy’s but then he recognized Hannah. “I’m back,” she said. “Decided Dad needs quiet around the house while he’s recuperating from his bypass, so the boys and I came home. Come by and have dinner tomorrow night, okay? You bring the beer.”
Jonathan smiled. Sounded like a good idea.
The next evening over burgers, while the twins played in their bouncy chairs, Hannah filled him in on her dad. Then she brought up the Night Stalker. “He made CNN,” she said, “so I heard a little, but I figure you can fill me in on the details.”
When he had, she said, “Wow, that’s really bizarre. How’s Christy managing after all that horror?”
Jonathan said nothing for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know. We aren’t seeing each other anymore.” He met Hannah’s eyes. “You already know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I talked to Christy this morning.”
“How is she?”
Hannah shook her head. “If you want to know, call her yourself.” She held his gaze. “Are you going to tell me your version of what happened, or do I have to subject you to some FBI torture?”
He told her.
When he finished, Hannah said, “You know something, Talbot, you’re an idiot. You find the perfect woman and you just turn tail and leave her? I don’t believe it.”
“I have to think of her safety.”
Hannah uttered an unladylike expletive. “Look at Troy and me. He’s in Venezuela right now going after drug dealers, the world’s worst scum. Any one of them could kill him, but I have to let him go because that’s who he is. When I’m working undercover, he has to do the same.”
“God, how do you live with it?”
“One day at a time. If, God forbid, something happens to one of us, the other will go on. We’ll both know we’ve had something special…for however long it lasted.” Her eyes rested on Alex, who had fallen asleep in his bouncy chair. “I’d better put you to bed, Mr. A.” She went to him and picked him up. “Be right back.”
While she was in the other room, Jonathan went over to Zachary. The baby welcomed him with kicking feet and waving arms. “Hey, fella,” Jonathan murmured, bent and stretched out his finger. The baby grasped it and broke into a wide smile.
Suddenly he had a vision of himself and Christy leaning over a baby’s crib. Their baby, his eyes the green of Christy’s, his hair as dark as Jonathan’s. He could almost hear Christy’s voice: “You see what we could have.”
Hannah returned and stood watching him, her hands on her hips. “All this could be yours, Doc.”
; Jonathan shook his head, and she sighed. “You’ve wallowed in guilt too long, Jonathan. Give yourself a chance. Give Christy a chance.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, at least, think about it.”
At home later, he did. Slouched in his armchair, he gazed around him. The house was so damn empty compared to Hannah’s. And it would always be this way. He pictured himself growing older, always alone. No happy shouts of children, no loving companionship. That was what he’d chosen.
He’d made the wrong choice.
The next evening Christy was at home alone. She’d had the early shift, left the hospital at three o’clock and spent the afternoon in busy work, running errands, checking e-mail, filing her nails. By evening she needed something more to do, something to keep at bay the bitter loneliness she’d felt since Jonathan had left.
She’d had the gardener help her move furniture out of the great room and into the dining room last week so she could wax the hardwood floors. But her wrist had still hurt and she’d postponed the waxing. Now her wrist was better and she had the time. What better way to discharge some of the anger she’d been carrying around than by tackling those floors? She got to work.
The day had been gray and cloudy, a perfect match for her mood. As she worked, she heard the sound of rain, a steady downpour that continued into the evening as she waxed and polished. She had nearly finished the floor when the doorbell rang. Who could that be?
She wiped her sweaty face and pushed her hair back behind her ears, then went to the front door. She turned the light on, then peered out the peep hole and nearly lost her breath.
Jonathan stood on her front porch, raindrops glistening in his hair.
Déjà vu, she thought. But this time she wouldn’t let him in so easily. She unlocked the door and yanked it halfway open, startling him. “What do you want?”
“May I come in?” he asked.
“I let you in once,” she replied. “I’m not sure I want to do it again.”
“Please.”
She stood still, one hand across the doorway, blocking the entrance. “What are you doing here? Did you forget something?”
He shook his head. “I left something.”
Christy frowned. She hadn’t noticed anything of his lying around. “What?”
“My heart.”
Her breath caught, her own heart began to pound. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He touched her hand, gently, tentatively. “I love you. Leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. Can we start over?”
“Jonathan,” she breathed, staring into the deep gray eyes so filled with love. “I—I want to.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Are you going to let me in?”
She stood aside. She’d never thought she’d see him again, and here he was, saying everything she’d longed to hear. “Come into the kitchen,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as she led him into the living room. “Be careful in here. It’s slippe—”
His feet flew out from under him, and he landed on the floor on his backside. “Not again,” he muttered.
She whirled around and bent over him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. Except for my dignity.”
Christy couldn’t help herself. A laugh bubbled out. She put out a hand to Jonathan, but instead of rising, he pulled her down into his lap. His arms tightened around her, and she felt his heart pounding in rhythm with hers.
“I’ve been a jerk,” he said, “caught up in guilt I can’t do anything about. I missed you. I don’t want to waste whatever time we can have together.”
“Neither do I.”
“I love you,” Jonathan murmured. “You’ll hear me say it every day from now on if you’ll marry me.”
“I love you, too,” she sighed and nestled against him. “I want a family, Jonathan. Soon.”
“Right away.”
“You won’t forget?”
“How could I,” he laughed, “when I have you to help me remember.”
And then he kissed her, again and again.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7381-2
STRANGER IN HER ARMS
Copyright © 2005 by Thelma Zirkelbach
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Stranger in Her Arms Page 22