by D L Lane
Arianna grinned and blew spit bubbles.
Smiling at her daughter and her mother, she unloaded the two oversized diaper bags.
“Look at those cute little lips and that lovely pink bow in your curly blonde hair. Grandma loves you, cutie pie. Yes, I do. I really, really do.”
Bending down to tug out a couple of toys, Danica felt the burn. At least she could say all the squats, lifting and moving of things—high chairs, stroller, playpen and such—did wonders for her midsection, biceps and leg muscles. Not to mention all the laps she’d done that week, pushing her babies in their double stroller when they didn’t want to sleep.
It was like weight training and cardio, rolled up into one excellent daily busy-mommy workout.
“Do you hear that?” her father asked Aaron, who he hoisted up in the air, giving him a smile when her son broke out into a fit of giggles. “You don’t need baby talk, do you?” Up and down, up and down, her father lifted him, then flew him around the living room, making silly humming sounds before the “V-r-o-o-m” started.
Danica shook her head, “Is Aaron a car or a plane?”
“We’re a Transformer,” Dad said, completely serious. “Optimus Prime. No wait, I don’t think he can fly.”
“Okay, well.” She grinned. “I’ll leave you guys to your playing. If you need anything—”
“We won’t, dear. We’ve got this.” Her mother’s thin, smiling face turned to her granddaughter. “Don’t we, Ari? That’s right. Your grandparents are the best.”
Arianna started giggling and waving her chubby fist.
“See,” Mom said. “Ari agrees.”
After placing her daughter’s favorite Lucy the Lamb doll into the playpen, then Aaron’s giraffe, Danica went over, leaned down, and kissed her little girl on the forehead. Then she placed a quick peck on her mother’s soft cheek, before going over to her Dad and son, doing the same. “All right. I’m going to go.”
Her parents didn’t bother to look her way, just said in harmony, “See you later.”
Running a straightening palm down the bell of her hip, Danny left her family behind, and stepped out the front door, melancholy striking her even though it was a beautiful day. With a lift of chin, the sun hit her face. But instead of lingering in the warmth, Danica plucked the Dolce & Gabbana’s off the top of her head, putting the sunglasses in place.
As she stepped onto the sidewalk, yellowing leaves floated down in front of her, and the hum of a lawnmower, or maybe a leaf blower, started in the distance.
She glanced across the familiar street and waved at Mr. Groves, who was sitting on his front porch in his rocking chair, then shifted her attention to the mailman slipping a handful of envelopes into the box next door.
“Hey, Danny!”
“Hi, Joe!”
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” The wrinkled skin of his weathered face lifted when he grinned.
“Sure is.”
He put his hand above his eyes, creating a visor. “I bet those babies of yours are getting big.”
“They are.”
“How old are they now?” Joe asked.
“Ten months.”
“I remember when Kylie was that age. Such a handful.”
“A handful times two,” Danica said.
“I bet.” He bobbed his head. “Well, I’d better get on with my route. You have a great one, and it was good seeing you, dearie.”
“You, too,” she said, then sighed.
Everything was different, but the same, and for some reason, the consistency of Cedar Point that used to comfort her had become a mighty stranger—aloof and eluding.
Trying to snap out of whatever was bothering her, she slipped behind the wheel of her Escalade, started it up and pulled away, deciding to turn left instead of right when she came to a stop at the sign. Passing house after house on Downy Street, she slowed when she came to the little bungalow with its blue-green paint, and flower pots staggered up the sides of the steps that led to the wooden front door with its inlaid stained glass.
She frowned, working her bottom lip over with her teeth.
Why she drove by the old Willis place was another mystery. Not only because she knew she had no reason to be there, but because he wouldn’t be there.
What are you searching for? That was the million-dollar question, one she shouldn’t be asking herself.
With a shake of her head, Danica looked away, gripped the wheel, pressed the gas pedal, and left her stupidity, as well as the house, behind.
Chapter Two
Before
Danica shut her locker door—the rattle of metal hitting metal blending into the laughter of her best friend. “I told Phillip, no. Can you believe he asked me to the homecoming dance? As if.”
“Maybe you should have said, yes, J.J.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jillian flipped her long, strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. “Why would I do that?”
“He is a nice guy,” Danica said.
“Now, maybe. But he used to wad up paper and spitball me with that nasty straw he kept in his pocket.”
“When we were in the first grade. But…” Danica’s gaze slipped past her best friend.
“But?”
“Hmm?”
“Uh, hello? Earth to Danny.”
Danica frowned.
“You’re not even paying attention to our conversation.”
“I am,” she said absently, trying to decide why Gage was showing interest in Britney. She was stick-thin with dull-brown hair, brows that needed a good tweezing, and plain, unremarkable features.
J.J. turned in the direction Danica was staring. “No, you’re busy watching Gage flirt with Britney Willis.”
“You think he’s flirting?”
“Duh? The moment Jenny left for college, he started flirting with everyone.”
Yeah, she thought it was strange since Gage and Jenny Lansing never ‘officially’ dated, but the beautiful, older girl with the long sable hair who looked like a cross between Catherine Zeta Jones and Shania Twain could crook her finger, and he would go running. But once she left, Danica had hoped he’d finally notice her. And sometimes he did. Or she’d thought so.
“Have you seen how he smiles at the new Home Ec teacher, Ms. Anderson?” J.J. asked. “She’s got to be, what?—thirty-something?”
Danica tore her attention away from the laughing pair and over to her bestie. “Does he flirt with you?”
Her friend’s perfectly arched brows pulled together. “Well, no, but still.”
“I’m going to go ask him for a ride home,” she said, “Breck and Mason are a no go, and he should have some time before football practice starts. Do you want to come with me?”
“Can’t. I’m going with my sister. We’re heading over to our aunts on an intervention.”
“Intervention?”
“She broke up with Morris, again.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, but a few cartons of Ben and Jerry’s will cheer her up.”
Danica grinned. “Amazing how that works.”
“Isn’t it?”
“All right. I’ll call you later.”
“Later, Danny-D,” J.J. said, giving her a quick hug, then spun around, Phillip watching her friend go, looking like someone kicked his puppy.
Poor guy.
Taking a deep breath then straightening her shoulders, Danica made her way over to where Gage and Britney were still talking by his locker.
“Oh, stop it,” Britney said, play-slapping his muscled arm and batting her stubby lashes.
“Hey,” Danica greeted them as she walked up.
“Hi.” Gage gave her that slow, crooked grin of his, making her heart miss a beat.
“Oh, hi, Danny.” Britney had a saccharine smile.
“Hi.” Shifting her attention back to Gage, she asked, “Do you think you could give me a quick ride home today?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, could you please give me a r
ide, too,” Britney whined.
He nodded. “I’ll take you both.”
“That would be great, Gage.” Danica attempted to be upbeat, but the thought of a third wheel didn’t make her happy.
“Yeah,” Britney said. “Super!”
“Well”—he shoved his hand into the front pocket of his Levi’s—“let’s roll.”
A few minutes later, they were on their way to Britney’s house, and Danica attempted not to grin, but a slight smile might have appeared. Soon, she would be alone with Gage, without the irritation of the other girl who’d been blathering on about her porcelain cat collection, and she could sit in the passenger’s seat instead of the back like an afterthought.
“Okay, Brit,” Gage said, pulling into the driveway of the Willis’ place. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Right.” Britney didn’t sound as syrupy as before. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Welcome.” Gage changed the station on the radio, not giving her another glance. And the fact he wasn’t paying attention to the sophomore sent a tendril of satisfaction through Danica.
Britney huffed a breath and got out, not quite slamming the door closed, then stomped toward the front door of her house with all the grace of a rampaging rhino suffering from malnutrition.
Turning to look at her, Gage jerked his head. “Get up here.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice; Danica wasted no time scurrying over the seat. It wasn’t very dignified, but hey, she was in the passenger's spot, next to him.
“I love this,” she said, doing a little bounce, then reached and turned the knob to increase the volume, singing along with Jewel’s soulful voice about “Foolish Games.”
She lost herself in the words of the song, then realized her eyes were closed, so she opened them.
Gage was watching her with an expression on his face—Wistful? No, that wasn’t quite right. Yearning? Danica didn’t think that was it either. Perhaps… Regret?
Aah! She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t read him.
His silver eyes glittered, making her fumble, but she recovered and finished.
He placed his hand on her left denim-clad knee.
She sucked in a breath, both from the buzz shooting up her leg and the cut, swollen condition of his knuckles. Carefully, Danica brushed her fingertips over the damage there. “So, the rumors are true. You’re the one who busted up Jordan’s face?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at him. “Why did you do that?”
“No one has the right to hurt you, Danny. Let alone get away with it.”
“You didn’t fully answer me.”
Gage shook his head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“You have a great voice,” he said, completely changing the subject, making her swallow hard as he palmed her warm cheek—thumb swiping back and forth on her cheekbone. “So pretty.”
Every single part of her wanted to nuzzle into his hand, but she looked at him, not sure what to say, not totally understanding him, but hoping for—
Tap, tap, tap.
The moment broke, making Danica realize they were still in the Willis’ driveway, and Britney stood outside Gage’s window.
Straightening, he turned away to roll the glass down. “Yeah?”
“Did I leave my bag?”
“Don’t know.” He glanced over at her, then at the floorboard. “Looks like it. Danny, can you grab that?”
She bent and picked up the small quilted purse, handing it over to Gage, who passed it on.
“Thanks,” Britney said.
“No problem.”
The girl didn’t move.
“Well,” he said, “we better go.”
“Okay.” Britney took a step away.
He twisted to look behind him, checked the rearview and driver’s side mirror, and when he was sure the coast was clear, Gage backed up.
It was quiet for the rest of the ride, Danny wondering how to get the tender side of Gage back with her, but she wasn’t sure how to do it. Those moments, when he’d see her not as too young and someone in need of protecting, were few and far between, but when it happened, they were precious.
When he pulled his GTO in front of her house, she asked, “You want to come in?”
“Better not,” he said. “I’m already late for practice.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you late.”
“It’s okay, Danny. I’m sure I’ll only have to do wind sprints until I can’t feel my legs.”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
“Naw”—he shook his head with a little grin—“don’t worry about it.”
She clambered out, then turned around to peek inside. “Gage?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
He nodded, the light streaming in the windshield highlighting part of his sculptured face, making her want to stay right there and do nothing but look at him—the length of his black lashes, the perfect shape of his nose, that masculine line of his jaw…
Gage squeezed the steering wheel, and her gaze went to the cords of his forearm dancing before she managed, “Bye” and closed the door.
Cemented in place, Danica watched him go with a wave of her fingers, a longing she couldn’t rid herself of proving yet again to be her constant companion.
Chapter Three
Tired. That one word summed things up nicely. Gage might be thirty-nine, but sometimes he felt like a crotchety old man, and everything about his life generally bothered him. In some ways, he’d become anesthetized to the constant struggle to keep on keeping on. But this current feeling of exhaustion had changed into something different. Something he couldn’t quite pin down.
Scrubbing his face with his palm, he sighed, then glanced around the six by eight-foot office with its mint-green walls and all the awards hanging in a symmetrical row. They were neatly encased within walnut frames, highlighting his glory days at Quantico. With a rub to his forehead, his gaze bounced to the bookshelf. Taking precedence in the middle was the reason for receiving salutations and adoration, a real-life hero, they called him. Ha! That’s laughable. Hero’s got the bad guy and saved the day, right? But that inconspicuous twisted metal shard had been embedded into his lower spine—the proof he wasn’t one, reminding him daily why he no longer worked for the FBI. Due to one piece of shrapnel, Gage had undergone several surgeries, months of physical therapy, and specialized rehab.
I should consider myself lucky, he thought. Not only did he rid himself of a wheelchair, he could walk and maneuver almost as good as before the event, but Field Agent Rothman, his friend, and long-time co-worker in the bureau, died in the blast Gage survived.
He turned in his swivel chair, then glanced out his one small window. Deloris Kramer, the town’s biggest gossip, and president of the ladies auxiliary was strolling along the sidewalk, short graying hair styled like Leave it to Beaver’s mom, signature pearls around her neck with that nose of hers up in the air.
He yanked back the cuff of his long-sleeved black uniform and glanced at the time on his watch. Straight up noon.
Deloris would be off to complete her duties at the auxiliary, joining her much younger vice president, the stunningly beautiful and vibrant, Danica Lorry-Harding.
“Mmm…” he hummed under his breath and closed his eyes.
The last time Danny stood in his office, smelling of cinnamon-spiced apples and sin, talking to him about the annual fundraiser for the fourth of July and asking if the police department would join with the fire department, had been five months ago. She assured him, with the two departments help, they could raise twice as much money, allowing Cedar Point to put on a more prominent fireworks display.
“Almost two-hundred years as a town is a huge reason to celebrate,” she’d said, ending the speech then adding her thousand-watt smile.
Pretending to give her proposal some serious t
hought, which he did to keep her in his office a bit longer, he finally sighed, acting as though he’d caved. However, to steal a quote from Jerry Maguire, Danica “had him at hello.” Gage would do anything she’d asked, but as usual, he played it cool, figuring the woman didn’t need to know the power she held over him.
“Gawonii?”
Only two people used his given name. His mother when she was upset with him, and from time to time, Danny when they were alone. He’d asked her once why she didn’t just call him Gage like everyone else did, and she shrugged. But as it did when they were kids, that sweet, sing-song voice made his heart pick up the pace.
Shifting his attention to the door, he grinned, then sobered.
“Danica.” Gage took her in, marveling. He’d just been thinking about her, and there she was, in the flesh. “You look”—ticked off, livid, gorgeous—“lovely,” he said. “What brings you in today?”
“Sorry,” said officer Davis, appearing winded and disgruntled as he stepped inside. “Dixie was on the phone, and I told her you were busy, but she breezed on down the hall, ignoring me.”
Gage held up a hand. “It’s fine. I always have time for old friends.”
Once the officer left, he gave Danny his undivided attention, and doing so wasn’t any hardship.
“Wendell Gibbs,” she said, putting a hand on her curvaceous hip.
Gage raised a brow. “What about him?”
“He came stumbling out from the bar, sloppy drunk, stopping to relieve himself on the shrubbery.”
“Sounds plausible.”
“You need to do something about him. What if I had the babies with me today?” Her blue, blue eyes sparkled. Snapped. Narrowed. “What kind of a man whips out his private parts in the middle of town and does that?” Danny shook her head, making some of the golden strands of hair that had escaped the elaborate twist caress her overheated cheeks.
And that mouth. Oh, Gage wanted to taste that mouth of hers. Press past those straight white teeth and spear her with his tongue. Feel the velveteen softness of her flesh twining with his. He’d kiss and caress her until she lost all her sensibilities and moaned his name. Until she begged—