A Year and a Day (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Cooper, Inglath

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I have no idea what to think.”

  He waved a hand at one of the nearby benches. “Can we sit down?”

  She stared at him for several moments, then went over to the bench and sat on one end. He took a spot a couple of feet away from her. Lola lay on the ground between them.

  The park felt deserted, the only sounds the chirp of a squirrel, the rustle of dry leaves scattering under a cool breeze. They might have been the only two people within miles.

  Audrey glanced down at the dog. Something in her face softened. “Is she yours?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Lola.”

  She was silent for a moment, and then said, “You don’t strike me as the kind of man to have a dog.”

  He leaned forward, one elbow on his knee. “I didn’t strike myself that way not so long ago.”

  She pressed her lips together, as if she refused to ask anything personal about him.

  “She sort of found me,” he offered anyway.

  Audrey reached down and rubbed the back of her hand under the dog’s chin, the tightness around her mouth softening. Lola lifted her head, her eyes closed. It was the first time Nicholas had seen her not shy from the touch of someone she didn’t know.

  Audrey rubbed behind Lola’s ear, then pulled her hand away and tucked it under the other in her lap.

  “I cannot afford to be anything other than straightforward with you,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “So let me be clear about this. You have no idea what you are jeopardizing.”

  The anger he had felt emanating from her a few minutes ago had disappeared. Her voice held something different now, something closer to desperation. And he wondered what kind of man he was to put her in this position. “I thought you might need a friend, Audrey. That’s all.”

  She shook her head. “I want you to leave me alone.”

  He slid down the bench until mere inches separated them.

  She looked at him then, and the pain in her eyes squeezed all the air from his lungs.

  He felt removed from himself, as if something else were directing him. His gaze locked on hers, he reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Her lips parted, and she made a small sound of surprise.

  His hand dropped lower to the collar of her blouse. He pushed it aside, keeping his touch gentle. The bruise had faded to a dull yellow. “He hurts you, doesn’t he?”

  Audrey drew in a sharp breath, reached up to push him away. But his hand covered hers. “Doesn’t he?” His voice was soft but insistent.

  She stood abruptly, putting distance between them. “Why are you doing this?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t seem to have a choice. I can’t stop thinking about you. I imagine what might be—”

  “Don’t,” she said quickly. “Don’t.”

  He closed the gap between them, stood close enough now that he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. “Let me help you, Audrey.”

  Her green eyes were wide and glistening with sudden tears. “You can’t help me, Nicholas. You can’t.”

  He sensed that was as close to an admission of need as he was going to get. And it reinforced his determination to make her see that he could help. Something vital in him depended on it. “Audrey. The last thing I want is to presume to know anything about your life. But I’ve seen enough bad stuff to make it hard to look the other way.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, as if trying physically to hold herself together. “I have to go. Please don’t call me again, Nicholas.”

  She turned to walk away, and he was overcome with an almost desperate need to make her listen. Lola stood, whined once and looked up at Nicholas.

  “Not one of the women whose name came across my desk ever thought it would happen to them,” he said, his voice thick with urgency.

  Audrey stopped, her back to him.

  He didn’t wait for her response but plunged on, the words pouring out of him now.

  “Ashley Arrington. Twenty-three years old. Stabbed to death in her living room. Her three young children also murdered. Ashley’s husband, the kids’ stepfather, was charged with the crime. He’s never been apprehended.”

  Audrey stiffened, but she did not move. The breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders. Nicholas moved a few steps closer.

  “Betty Howell. Forty-five years old. Her husband hit her over the head with a beer bottle because she failed to have his dinner ready when he got home from work. He’s doing time for involuntary manslaughter. He’ll be out in a few years.”

  Nicholas had not forgotten any of the women whose fate had been captured in single snapshots, the final outcome of the abusive relationships in which they had been trapped. Somehow, he had to make Audrey see how easily she could become one of them. He forced himself to go on, hoping his words might save her from that same fate.

  “Lori Sigmon. Thirty-four. Her husband shot her in the back as she tried to run from the house with their two-year-old daughter.

  “Arlene Smith. Twenty-nine. She’s been in a coma for four years since her husband beat her so badly her parents could barely identify—”

  “Enough!” Audrey swung around then, one hand raised against the onslaught of his words. “Please. No more. No more.”

  Tears streamed from her eyes. Nicholas’s heart turned over, and he cursed himself for causing her more pain. He walked toward her, stopping a few inches away, and shoved his hands in his pockets because that was the only way he could keep from touching her. “I know what hopeless feels like,” he said. “But there’s light on the other side if you just let yourself believe you can get to it.”

  They stood there in the shadows of the winter-bare trees, sunlight dappling through. Lola came and sat next to them. Neither Nicholas nor Audrey spoke. They simply looked at one another. For Nicholas, it was something he had wanted to do from the moment they’d met, take in her beautiful face without having to censor his response. He wanted to kiss her. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he had felt this kind of attraction to a woman, this kind of need to know her touch.

  He reached out then, brushed her lashes with his thumb, felt the moisture there. Her eyes on his, she drew in a short, quick breath, her lips parting.

  He leaned in then and kissed her, all his senses suddenly amplified.

  He hadn’t planned this, and it had the feel of something unexpectedly wonderful, a gift that had no occasion. Her mouth was soft against his, accepting. He felt her surprise and her response as well.

  She pulled away as quickly as she had yielded, her eyes wide and startled. She swung a panicky glance in both directions, the back of her hand at her mouth.

  “There’s no one here,” he said.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She started to say something, then pressed her lips together.

  “No. That’s a lie, Audrey. I’m not sorry. I’ve wanted to do that since New Year’s Eve.”

  She folded her arms and stared into the distance. “Nicholas, I’m not the woman for this.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “I can’t explain it to myself, but from the moment I met you, there was this feeling of inevitability, like it was supposed to have happened all along. And I didn’t know it before, but I knew it then. The more I try to forget about you, the more I can’t think about anything else.”

  He could see her weighing his words. The acceptance of truth meant trust. What could be less possible for a woman whose life was controlled by a man who had promised to protect her and broken that promise?

  But something in her eyes told him that she wanted to believe him. She dropped her gaze. “This can’t happen, Nicholas. You have to understand that.”

  He reached out, tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “I saw the reports for the domestic disturbance calls at your home. Why did you refuse to press charges against Jonathan?”

&n
bsp; “Is that how the report read?” she asked, something long-resigned in her expression.

  “How should it have read?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “It matters.”

  She just stood there, quiet.

  “Let me help you, Audrey.”

  She bent down to rub the side of Lola’s face, straightening, she said, “Another woman. Another life.” She turned then and walked away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE DRIVE BACK to Buckhead passed in a blur.

  She drove too fast. She recognized her recklessness and yet needed to put miles between her and what had happened in that park with Nicholas.

  Had she lost her mind?

  She had driven out there to tell him in no uncertain terms to leave her alone, anger propelling her the entire way. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t the man she found waiting for her there.

  She hadn’t been prepared for his kindness.

  Or his kiss. And for the first time in so long, she thought about herself. About her own needs and how insanely wonderful that kiss had felt.

  She pressed her hand to her mouth. The feeling lingered, settled in, touched places inside her long frozen.

  There had been moments in the past few years when she felt as if she had become an emotional robot, getting through each day by never allowing herself the luxury of examining her own wants and needs. She had simply let them flicker out, like the light of a dying candle.

  And yet she could not deny that his touch tapped a tiny chink in the armor she had built around herself, allowing feeling, lovely and unexpected, to seep inside.

  For a moment, she acknowledged its existence, let it flow through her, warm and real. She imagined being a different woman who might respond to those feelings, acknowledge the attraction.

  But it could be nothing more than imagination. It would never happen again. Because today was the last time she would ever see him.

  ONCE AUDREY LEFT, Nicholas walked back to his car, let Lola in the passenger seat, then got in the driver’s side and sat staring at the steering wheel, thinking of the people he’d failed in his life. Mary-Ellen Moore. His parents. His sister.

  Was this what drew him to Audrey Colby? A chance at redemption? A chance to right at least one of the wrongs in this world?

  On some level, maybe so.

  But there was more. He’d be lying to himself to pretend otherwise.

  He felt a dozen different things when he looked at her. Beneath the surface layers of sympathy and fear for her safety was something he’d never felt before. A tangle of emotions that made him wish they had met a long time ago.

  Another woman. Another life. Her words. Was that the final answer then?

  He reached for his keys, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Maybe it should be.

  But somehow, he knew it wasn’t.

  NOTHING ABOUT Friday morning distinguished it from any other morning when Jonathan left for a business trip, usually to look at some potential development property. Audrey didn’t ask his reason for going to the Dominican Republic. It didn’t matter to her why he was going. Only that he was.

  His alarm went off at four, and Audrey lay in bed listening to the sound of the shower, eyes wide open, heart pounding. She had not slept the entire night, aware of every breath he drew, counting each as one closer to the morning.

  His flight was scheduled to leave at 7:00 a.m. Jonathan hated to be late. He would leave the house by 4:45, allowing plenty of time for the unexpected.

  The bathroom light flicked off. He crossed the bedroom floor, stopping at her side of the bed. “Audrey?”

  “Hmm?” She raised her head, squinting as if she had been asleep.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “All right,” she said.

  “I’ve asked Ross to stop and check on you and Samuel each day. He has my numbers in case he needs to get in touch with me.”

  Audrey heard the unspoken warning behind the words.

  “He doesn’t need to do that,” she said, as if Jonathan had made his arrangements out of the care and concern a normal husband might have exhibited at leaving his wife alone for five days.

  “I left my itinerary on the kitchen table. Except for today and Tuesday, you should be able to get me at those numbers.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, afraid that something in her voice might make him suspicious, might change his mind about going. And that was unthinkable.

  He bent down to kiss her on the forehead. “See you on Tuesday.”

  “All right.” She pulled the covers up around her as if she intended to go back to sleep.

  He left the room, and she lay there, staring into the darkness, listening for the whir of the garage door, the sound of Jonathan’s car backing out and then driving away.

  For the next forty-five minutes, she forced herself to stay in bed just in case he came back for something. Each minute seemed like a week. She waited until the alarm clock on the nightstand flipped forward to five-thirty, and then she got up and began to pack.

  THEY WERE FLYING first-class.

  Laura adjusted the angle of her seat back and glanced at the man beside her.

  She couldn’t believe she was actually here. That he had asked her to go. Or that she’d ditched school for a week to come.

  But how could she not? It was exactly what she yearned for. A chunk of time with him that was hers and hers alone.

  She wondered what her father would say if he found out. Since her early teenage years, this was the question that prefaced most of her actions. Certainly, all of the rebellious ones. Laura loved getting away with behavior she knew her father would disapprove of.

  She considered it payback for all the times he had disappointed her.

  And there had been many.

  The clink of dishes sounded from the galley where the stewardess was putting together the morning meal. Across the aisle from them an older couple chatted about the excursions they planned to take upon reaching the Dominican Republic.

  Jonathan tapped a few keys on his laptop, stared at the screen, his jaw tight in the way that meant he was giving something his full consideration.

  He looked up and met her gaze.

  She let him see her hunger, uncensored by the games she normally felt obligated to play with him.

  He lifted her blanket, put his hand on her leg and stroked her thigh for a few blood-warming seconds.

  The stewardess stuck her head around the galley door. “Would you like coffee or tea, Mr. Colby?”

  “Coffee,” he said, his voice smooth as melted chocolate.

  “And you?” she asked Laura.

  “Tea, please,” she said, her response slightly fractured.

  The stewardess disappeared behind the curtain again.

  Jonathan picked up where they’d left off a few moments before.

  Laura closed her eyes and wondered what her father would have said about that.

  NICHOLAS BURIED HIMSELF in work on Friday, a valiant but wasted effort to crowd Audrey out of his thoughts.

  He couldn’t quit thinking about her.

  Or that kiss in the park yesterday.

  He’d relived it a hundred times. The softness of her cheek beneath his hand. The surprise he’d felt when she kissed him back.

  Let it go. Let her go. Forget you ever met her.

  The refrain beat a steady drum in his head, and yet her hold on him was complete. He could no more resist the pull than an ocean tide could resist the moon.

  AFTER WORK, he found himself in his car, headed toward Buckhead without a clue what he planned to say to her. But the need to see her had a force of its own, lifting him outside the boundaries of common sense and reason.

  He pulled into the driveway, got out and followed the stone walkway to the front door. A newspaper lay at the foot of the steps. He picked it up and rang the bell.

  No answer. He rang it again and wa
ited a full five minutes. He dropped the paper on the step and walked around the corner of the house to see if anyone was in the backyard. No one there. He walked by the garage, and feeling like an intruder, peered through one of the windows running the width of the door. Both cars were gone.

  She could be anywhere. Visiting family. Staying overnight with a friend. But something didn’t feel right.

  He got back in his car and sat there staring at the house.

  You have no idea what you’re jeopardizing.

  The words came back to him with a crack, like lightning striking right beside his ear.

  Audrey wasn’t here. And she wasn’t coming back.

  There was nothing logical about how he knew. He just did.

  He sat there for a long time, letting himself absorb the possibility. If she had found a way out, then wasn’t that for the best? He’d seen guys like Jonathan Colby come through the system countless times. They never let go. Never. Her only hope would be to start over somewhere else. A place where Jonathan couldn’t find her.

  That would be the right thing for Audrey. And maybe for him, too. If she had left for good, then he would have no choice but to forget her.

  Why then did he feel this awful sense of mourning? Of loss. As if he’d just lost something that might have changed his life?

  THE PLANE LANDED at London’s Heathrow just before seven on Saturday morning.

  Since they were traveling under their real passports, the packet of tickets Audrey had received included a set of instructions that would lead them first to Zurich. From there, they would catch a train, changing a number of times before they eventually ended up in Italy. Once in Europe, she was to pay for everything with cash, thereby not leaving a trail of credit-card purchases to be followed.

  Sammy sat in the window seat, Audrey next to him, her hand clasped tightly with his.

  “Is that London, Mama?”

  “Um-hm. Kind of hard to see with all that fog, isn’t it?”

  “Is it always like that here?”