Just Like the Ones We Used to Know

by Brenda Novak

  With a frightened squeal, she began running as fast as she could in the knee-deep snow, but it wasn’t thirty seconds before he tackled her.

  “Tell me you’re sorry,” he said.

  “She thinks you’re handsome! She said she likes your butt!” Kayla called and seized the opportunity to save herself by scampering into the truck. Angela heard the click of the locks only seconds after Matt brought her to the ground.

  “Thanks a lot, Kayla,” she muttered.

  He grinned, obviously pleased that Kayla had just handed him total victory, but he didn’t let that distract him from his punishment. “Say ‘Chief Jackson, I’m terribly sorry to have caused you any discomfort.’”

  “No way! You started it!”

  “Fine. Then I’m going to finish it.” He shoved snow down her jacket, laughing as she bucked and writhed beneath him. But she wasn’t feeling nearly as cold as she should’ve been. And it wasn’t long before she could tell that her movements were arousing him, too.

  She stopped struggling, but he didn’t get up. He smoothed the snow and disheveled hair from her face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said passionately.

  The fact that she could feel the physical proof of his appreciation didn’t seem to bother him. He kept his body snugly against hers, putting pressure on a very sensitive spot—so sensitive that she wished he’d push a little harder.

  Her chest rose and fell while she tried to catch her breath. “You never even looked at me when we were younger.”

  But he hadn’t looked at anybody, had he? Except Danielle.

  He didn’t mention his old girlfriend. “I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  “What do you want for Christmas?” she asked. She was grasping for anything to change the subject, to lessen the tension.

  His gaze lowered to her lips, and his voice grew slightly rough. “To catch you under the mistletoe.”

  * * *

  MATT HELD HIS WINEGLASS loosely in his hands as he lay on the rug, staring at the lights on the tree they’d just decorated. Kayla had done most of the work, but now she was in the other room watching a Christmas program on television. Angela sat a few feet away, petting Sampson, Matt’s German shepherd.

  As her hand moved over the dog’s fur, Matt was dying to scoot closer to her—if only to thread his fingers through hers. But after their encounter in the snow, she’d been acting spooked. Whenever he sat near, she backed away. And yet she’d been responsive when he tackled her. The flush in her cheeks had come from more than just physical exertion. He could tell by her eyes.

  Maybe she needed more time before she’d consider a romantic relationship. She’d be going back to Denver soon, and long-distance relationships weren’t easy, but he couldn’t help wanting to get to know her better in spite of that. He felt a sort of…excitement he hadn’t experienced in years. He hoped she’d stay, hoped they could explore the possibilities. If nothing else, they should make the most of the time she had left.

  “What happened to your parents?” he asked.

  She’d been sitting with her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, leaning back on her hands to admire the tree. But at his question, she changed position so she could reclaim her wine. “My father died when I was two. My mother died when I was ten.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “How’d it happen?”

  “My parents were older when they had me. They’d been told that my father was infertile. And then, at forty-eight, my mother suddenly conceived.”

  “They must’ve been thrilled.”

  Sampson sat up and barked, but when she scratched him behind the ears, he laid his head in her lap. Matt had never seen the dog take to anyone so readily.

  “I suppose, in some ways, they were,” she said. “But the fact that it was a little late in life probably tempered their happiness, you know? And two years later, my dad died of cancer. Pneumonia took my mom eight years after that.”

  “Is it hard to talk about them?” he asked softly.

  “No, it’s…okay.”

  He didn’t want to bring up any subject that might be painful for her, and yet he wanted to hear the details of her life. “Wasn’t there anyone else in your family who could take care of you?”

  “No. My parents’ brothers and sisters were even older than they were and had finished raising their families. One lived in Belgium. Another was a widow. She tried to take me, but then she fell and broke her hip.”

  She’d indicated it didn’t bother her to talk about her past, but she’d tensed up. He could see it in the way she held her body.

  Despite his determination to give her more time, Matt moved toward her.

  She watched him warily. But when she finally met his eyes, he saw that she wasn’t unaffected by the chemistry between them. He couldn’t tell what was holding her back, but he knew it wasn’t a lack of interest.

  Taking her hand, he began stroking her slim fingers. “So you went to live with Betty.”

  She stared at the places where he touched her, as if mesmerized by his movements. “She was my aunt’s husband’s second cousin,” she said slowly. “When she heard Aunt Rosemary was going to have to put me up for adoption, she knew it wouldn’t be easy to find a good home for a ten-year-old, that I’d probably be bounced around in the foster system until I turned eighteen.”

  “So she decided to take you in.”

  “Yes.” She shivered as his fingers moved up the inside of her arm. Liking the reaction, he immediately imagined her in his bed, and wanted more. But she was still sending him inconsistent signals. Her body responded eagerly, yet she seemed reluctant.

  “Do you like this?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “What about this?” Lifting her hand, he caressed the sensitive tips of her fingers with his tongue. Then, one by one, he took each finger into his mouth, gently sucking on it.

  She didn’t answer. But he heard her quiet gasp. She was breathing faster, too. He was willing to bet her heart was pounding right along with his.

  Leaning closer, he brushed his mouth lightly across hers.

  Good. Better than good. He was just going back for another pass, hoping to claim one deep, wet kiss. Her daughter was in the other room. He didn’t want to make Angela uncomfortable; he only wanted to show her what could happen if she gave in to what she was feeling.

  But she pulled away before he could show her much of anything.

  Matt frowned. “You’re not interested?” he murmured in confusion. Surely he couldn’t be that bad at reading her responses. He’d never misjudged a woman’s receptivity before.

  “It’s getting late,” she said. “We—we’d better go.”

  She tried to get up, but he held her fast. “Why are you running from me?”

  “I’m not running from you.”

  “What are you afraid of? Why won’t you give me the chance to really know you?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “I want to spend some time with you, Angela. I want to be with you,” he said. “And I want to touch you.”

  “I—” She seemed at a loss. “Matt, listen. This…isn’t right.”

  He scowled. “Are you married?”

  “I already told you I’m not.”

  “Are you committed?”

  She tucked her silky hair behind one ear. “No.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I don’t even live here,” she said.

  “That’s the reason?”

  “Isn’t it enough?”

  “No. Not if you’re feeling what I’m feeling. We have two weeks. Who knows where it could go beyond that? We wouldn’t be the first people to try and manage a long-distance relationship.”

  “I’m not feeling anything,” she said quickly. “I—I have too much going on in my life. I can’t get involved right now.”

  She was lying about what she felt. The excuse of a busy life sounded flimsy, too.

  He opened his mouth to argue. But t
hen he stopped himself. He’d be stupid to press her. She was in full retreat. Pushing harder would make her run that much faster.

  They sat still for several seconds, staring up at the tree. “Okay,” he said at last.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Will you do me one favor?”

  Her gaze moved over him, as if she were committing every detail to memory. “If I can.”

  “Tell me what happened that night. With Stephanie.”

  “It’s over, in the past—”

  “I want to know,” he said stubbornly.

  She pulled her legs in close and propped her chin on her knees. “Stephanie was always so…impetuous,” she said reluctantly.

  “Impetuous?” he echoed. “She was the most sexually aggressive girl I’ve ever met!”

  “She had a terrible crush on you.”

  “Calling it a crush makes it sound normal,” he muttered. “It was more like an obsession.”

  “I know. I tried to get her to leave you alone. So did her mother. She wouldn’t listen. She never listened—to anyone.”

  The bits and pieces he could recall began to filter through his mind. “I remember seeing her at the party when I arrived,” he said. “You were there, too. She asked me to dance, followed me around. The typical stuff. I was annoyed, but not too worried, you know?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was Danielle’s mother’s birthday,” he explained. “She’d gone out to dinner with her parents and was supposed to meet me later. I can still hear the music, see the people. Someone offered me a beer, but I knew I’d be driving her home that night and said no.”

  “Is that all you remember?” she prompted when he stopped.

  “No. I remember the way Stephanie was touching me, my eagerness to let her. What doesn’t make sense is why I did what I did. Things got out of control, and I didn’t seem to care. Then, in the middle of everything, I’m lying naked on the bed, and Danielle’s staring down at me, screaming and crying. Stephanie’s there, too, holding the sheets to her bare chest and smiling smugly, as if she’d wanted us to be caught.”

  “I’m sure she did. That would’ve suited her purpose.”

  How manipulative was that? He shook his head in disgust. “She told Danielle I’d just made love to her, when, regardless of what happened, there was no love involved, and she knew it.” He winced at the memory of Danielle vomiting afterward.

  “Anyway, I couldn’t deny it,” he went on, embarrassed all over again. “I really had…you know. But, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I didn’t stop. I would never have hurt Danielle that way. I’d had plenty of opportunities to be with Stephanie, if that was what I wanted.”

  “Did you eat any brownies?”

  “Is that where it was?” he asked.

  Angela nodded.

  “What was it, exactly?”

  “Betty’s sleeping pills.”

  “Sleeping pills?”

  “They were strong. Because of her aches and pains, the doctor prescribed some sedatives. Stephanie simply stole a few from the medicine cabinet and mixed them in when she frosted a couple of the brownies she brought to the party.”

  “The ones she made for me.”

  “Yes.”

  He considered Angela for several long moments. He was relieved to finally have his suspicions confirmed, to know he really wasn’t the callous jerk everyone had thought he was.

  But that raised another question, one that seemed far more important now than it ever had before. “Did you know what she was planning before you went to the party? Did you help her?”

  “No. I only knew that she had hopes of getting with you. She said you’d ‘be hers’ by morning. But she always talked like that. I didn’t realize, until she admitted it the next day, that she’d drugged you.”

  He sighed. “I’m just glad she didn’t get pregnant. Can you imagine? It would’ve ruined my life.”

  She said nothing.

  “Angela?”

  “That would have been terrible,” she said quietly.

  He chuckled without mirth. “I don’t know many guys who’ve had to worry about being seduced against their will, especially at sixteen. Do you?”

  “Stephanie was determined. When she wanted something, she stopped at nothing to have it.”

  He studied her carefully, wondering why she was keeping him at arm’s length. “What about you?” he asked.

  “What about me?”

  “What do you do when you want something?”

  She gazed up at the tree. “I try to think about how it’ll affect others.”

  He knew her answer was significant. He just didn’t know in what way.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “SO…DO YOU LIKE HIM?” As soon as they reached their room, Kayla sat cross-legged on the end of Angela’s bed and smiled eagerly, obviously expecting a girl-to-girl chat.

  “He’s nice,” Angela replied, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.

  “Just nice?”

  Angela stepped into the bathroom to undress. “No, he’s cute, too.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” she called back. “Cute? He’s like…Jake Gyllenhaal. Are you blind? I sat in there watching stupid television shows so you could be alone, and now you’re telling me he’s cute?”

  “When I said he had a nice butt, you told on me,” Angela accused, trying to put Kayla on the defensive.

  But when Angela emerged in her pajamas, she found Kayla stretched out on the bed, grinning unrepentantly. “Yeah, but he liked hearing it. He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you since.”

  Angela’s head hurt from all the conflicting emotions. When she’d first decided to return to Virginia City, she’d expected to find Matt happily married with a few kids. She couldn’t show up on a man’s doorstep, a man who had a wife and children, and tell him he had another daughter he’d never even heard about. Not when the child had been conceived the way Kayla had. He wasn’t responsible for what had happened, so how could she justify disrupting his life and the lives of those he loved? Knowing she couldn’t do that had made her feel safe. She’d come here to put to rest the unsettling “what if” scenarios that had plagued her, even before she’d read Kayla’s essay. She’d wanted to validate the decisions that had been made in the past and gather more strength and determination to continue with things as they were.

  Now she didn’t know what to do. She’d never bargained on Matt’s being single. Neither had she guessed that she’d be so attracted to him. Their interest in each other confused an already difficult issue. But with or without Kayla, she saw little chance that what they felt would ever turn into a committed, long-term relationship. They were both single at twenty-nine. That had to say something about them. Her life and her business were in Denver; his were here in Virginia City.

  She wouldn’t tell him, she decided. Not yet. She didn’t know him well enough. Besides, as much as Kayla thought she wanted a father, Angela wasn’t sure the sudden upheaval and total change of situation would be good for her.

  And yet…she felt guilty for keeping the secret. How could she deny Kayla the chance to know the man who’d fathered her? Especially when Angela had discovered it was Kayla’s deepest desire?

  Smothering a sigh, Angela sat next to Kayla on the bed. What would be best for this girl? She’d promised Betty she’d never tell. But Betty had only been trying to right Stephanie’s wrong, to make sure others wouldn’t be hurt by it. When Betty had asked Angela for that promise, she’d been assuming Matt wouldn’t want to know he had a daughter.

  Now, Angela wasn’t so sure. “What do you think of him?” she asked and tried to listen beyond the actual words.

  “I think he’s great,” Kayla said. “Perfect.”

  “In what ways?” she prodded.

  “He listens when we talk. He’s patient and funny.”

  “We’ve only known him a couple of days,” Angela said.

  “That doesn’t matter. He won’t change.”


  Angela pulled Kayla into an embrace. She thought the same thing. But she had to be positive. And, as she stroked the girl’s hair, she couldn’t help wondering—was Matt ready for the shock of his life?

  * * *

  CHRISTMAS WAS IN FOUR DAYS and Matt hadn’t bought a single present. He was reminded of that when his mother called him at work the following morning.

  “You’re coming to the gift exchange, right?” she said.

  He rolled away from his desk and locked his hands behind his head, stretching his aching back. He’d been doing paperwork since he’d arrived at seven, and it was nearly noon. “Why aren’t we having the party on Christmas Eve?” he asked.

  “Because your uncle Jim’s leaving for New York. He and Don have wanted to see the city for years, and that’s their Christmas present to each other.”

  “I see. So…” Matt rummaged through the stacks of papers on his desk to unearth his calendar. “When is it again?”

  “Tomorrow night. At seven.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.” He jotted it down and started to hang up, but his mother was still talking.

  “And do not have that friend of yours make Grandma any more eggnog,” she said.

  He lifted the phone back to his ear. “Why not? She likes it.”

  “It gives her gas.”

  “Then why does she ask me for it?”

  “The taste. Haven’t you ever liked something that wasn’t good for you?”

  He was beginning to wonder if Angela fit into that category.

  “You know how stubborn she is,” his mom added.

  “What else should I get her?”

  “What about one of those firemen calendars you and the other guys posed for?” It had been a local effort to raise money for burn victims.

  “You’re joking, right? What would an eighty-year-old woman want with pictures of me and a bunch of other half-naked firemen?”

  “She likes Lewis.”

  “Lewis?”

  “She says you’re never too old to pretend.”

  He kneaded his forehead. “Mom, that’s not creating an appealing mental picture.”

  “You’re not the only one who likes sex in this family,” she said. “Your father and I—”