“Screw you.” She turned away, but she couldn’t deny that, though she believed the Devlin Group could maybe someday put her son in the path of danger again, she also had other fears she hadn’t given voice to. “What about me, Alex?”
“What about you?”
“What am I supposed to do while you’re at work? Hell, we already know I can’t bake cookies. I know what you do. We both have scars, and each one could have been two inches higher or an inch to the left. I would know every single time you walk out that door there’s a damn good chance you won’t come home. I can’t live with that. Especially since I’m your partner. How long can I be torn between begging you not to go and strapping on a gun and going with you?”
She had to stop then, since her voice was choking off and all she could do was wave her hand in some what then? gesture.
Alex cupped her face in his hands. “You won’t go with me. You’re done in the field, and we both know that. But you seem to be forgetting I’m damn good at what I do. If I had some cushy office job you wouldn’t try to shield me from commuting two hours in eighty-mile-an-hour bumper to bumper traffic, would you?”
“Oh, don’t give me that ‘I could get hit by a bus tomorrow’ bullshit,” she snapped, jerking her face away from his hands. He’d been quick to reject that argument when she’d thrown it at him earlier. “There’s a big difference between what you do and commuting.”
“The difference is training, instincts and experience, Grace. If I compare what I do to commuting, I’d be a commuter rolling down the highway in an armored vehicle with proximity sensors, anti-impact measures, grenade launchers and an on-board Porta-Potty.”
Grace laughed. “You mean like that minivan?”
He didn’t laugh with her. “I told you I’ll stand down from high-risk fieldwork. I’ve got some good guys now who don’t have little kids waiting at home to play ball in the backyard, and I can recruit a few more.”
He stepped forward until he was right in her face. “We love each other, Grace. We have for years. And we have a son. We have what it takes, babe, if you could just trust in me.”
The words hung in the air between them, just waiting for her to bat them down as she had so many times before.
Tension built until Alex smiled just to break it. “I’m a little offended that marrying me scares you more than jumping out of a helo into a hail of bullets.”
This time it was Grace who didn’t laugh. “I do trust you, Alex. Completely. And I can’t live half a life anymore. I can be Danny’s mom and Alex Rossi’s wife.”
He kissed her gently. “Just be Grace, honey. It’s always been good enough for both your guys.”
A hiccup sob escaped her. “I wonder if they make flak aprons.”
He held out his fist. “Ride this river with me, Grace.”
Her fist touched his in silent promise. “Yippe-ki-yea.”
Shannon Stacey
Shannon Stacey married her Prince Charming in 1993, and is the proud mother of a future Nobel Prize for Science-winning bookworm and an adrenaline junkie with a flair for drama. She lives in New England, where her two favorite activities are trying to stay warm and writing stories of happily ever after.
You can contact Shannon through her website: www.shannonstacey.com
Forever Again
© 2006 Shannon Stacey
Available in both ebook and print from www.MyBookstoreandMore.com
A Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication.
Fifteen years ago, Gena Taylor and Travis Ryan were forced into a marriage neither wanted, the price they paid after one night of passion. But what he believed to be a lie forced Travis to walk out of her life shortly thereafter, crushing Gena's dreams of a happily ever after with the only man she'd ever loved.
Fifteen years later, Travis and Gena meet again. Only now, she owns the inn he's considering for his wedding—to another woman. And this time, she's guarding her heart carefully. She's not going to allow him to hurt her—or their daughter.
Despite their resolve to keep things impersonal, the past comes rushing back and feelings they both thought long dead rise from the ashes. But there are other lives at stake now, including that of the child Travis once thought was a lie.
Enjoy this excerpt from
Forever Again
by Shannon Stacey
It was hard for Travis to believe fifteen years had passed since he’d seen the town. Very little had changed. There was a new gas station at the end of the block, and a video rental store that he wished had been there when he was a kid. But Frank Castille was still cutting hair and Smitty’s no doubt still served up the best breakfasts for a hundred miles.
Travis bought an ice cream cone at the corner store, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. If he was going to be forced to walk down memory lane, at least he could enjoy himself a little. A new park had been built to house the town’s old statues, and he sat on a granite bench to watch the people go by.
It was a charming little town, full of people who knew almost everything about each other. A place where the people who lived on either side of you were truly neighbors.
But not a good town to get married in. He refused to let that thought darken his renewed good spirits. He’d find a way to convince Kristen that the Riverside Inn was not a good choice for their wedding and reception, and certainly not for their honeymoon. Maybe he’d just put his foot down and say no.
He didn’t need an excuse. Regardless of what Kristen thought, it was his wedding, too. He just wished she hadn’t pointed out that it was the first wedding for each of them. Not correcting her might only be a lie of omission, but it was still a lie. He didn’t like being dishonest with her.
And thoughts of dishonesty brought him back to Gena. He had noticed that mischievous sparkle in her eyes when she disputed his claim that they didn’t need to decide right away. She knew they wouldn’t be getting married at the Riverside Inn. He’d made that very clear, and she had agreed. Still, she had him scared there for a second, and one look at her face told him she had done it purposely just to make him suffer.
Where was that fire fifteen years ago? Maybe it had always been there, and he had just been too young and too stupid to see it. It was hard for him to believe that such a captivating woman had been concealed under the baggy clothes and bad haircuts.
That thought shook him so badly he almost dropped his ice cream. Did he really think she was captivating?
Yes, he acknowledged grudgingly. Gena Taylor was captivating. She was beautiful and intelligent, and she didn’t feel the need to make herself look artificial. He only wished he’d seen it sooner. About fifteen years sooner, because now it was too late. Tomorrow night he would get in the car and exit her life again.
I wish I had seen it sooner? That had to be exhaustion speaking. He refused to believe he was feeling…was it regret? It couldn’t be, because walking out on that farce of a marriage was one of the smartest things he’d ever done.
Two teenaged girls walking toward the park caught his eye. One of them was upset, frowning and making choppy gestures with her hands as she spoke. Something tugged at his subconscious, and he thought there was something very familiar about the girl. He just couldn’t place it.
Maybe she was the daughter of one of his old school friends. She’d be about the right age. Fifteen, he guessed.
Suddenly his mind produced the memory of a picture. It took another second to place the image. The photograph was of a young blonde woman cradling a baby on her lap. He was the baby and the woman was his mother.
The girl and her friend drew closer and he matched her features with those in the picture. The thick blonde curls…heart-shaped face…the eyes. He saw that distinct shade of blue when he looked at his mother…or in a mirror.
The girl’s resemblance to that picture—to himself—was too uncanny to ignore, and he stood, black raspberry ice cream dripping unnoticed onto his hand.
Fifteen… She looked straight at him before her f
riend pulled her into the store, piercing him with her blue gaze. Fifteen…my mother…oh my God.
He dropped the ice cream in the grass and started running up the hill toward the Inn.
* * * * *
Gena could hear Travis shouting her name before he even entered the house. He knows—somehow—he knows. She was upstairs, but she heard the loud echo of his footsteps and the slamming of doors as he looked for her.
She was down the stairs and in her private living room when the door flew open and Travis was there. His chest heaved from anger and exertion, and Gena trembled in anticipation of his rage.
She watched him look around, saw his gaze fall on the school portrait of Mia that hung over the sofa.
“Who is that?” he demanded in a hoarse voice, pointing at the picture.
Gena swallowed and lifted her chin. “That’s Mia—my daughter.”
She saw Kristen appear behind Travis, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Travis? What’s wrong? Why are you shouting?”
“She’s my daughter, isn’t she?”
“What? What is going on here?” Kristen demanded, but they both ignored her.
Gena’s hands fisted at her sides. “She’s my daughter. You left, remember?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he shouted.
“Having a baby was the reason we got married, or did you forget that part?” Gena yelled back in a volume that matched his.
He was advancing slowly toward her, his face white with anger, and she backed up until she felt the seat of the rocker hit behind her knees. “You were lying. I saw the proof.”
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