Shattered Blue: A Romantic Thriller

by Jane Taylor Starwood

Shane kept her back to him as she broke up the chopped meat with a spatula. “For one thing, you were married. To Vanessa Holt.” She turned just in time to see him wince, a tiny twitch between his eyebrows.

  “Yes, I was,” he said. “So?”

  “Why?” She could have let him off the hook, but this was important, at least to her.

  Matt sipped his wine, obviously stalling.

  “Uh, well,” he said, “let me think about that a minute. Are you asking why an honest, upright, kind, reasonably good-looking, seemingly sane man such as myself could possibly fall into the clutches of a gorgeous, spoiled, social-climbing bitch such as the lovely Ms. Holt?”

  Shane smiled. “Clever words won’t get you off the hook. Call me nosy, but I really want to know. Why did you?”

  “Ah, Shane. That’s a question I’ve been asking myself for a long time.”

  “Have you come up with a satisfactory answer?”

  He sighed and his shoulders slumped. Shane almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “You’re going to think less of me,” he said.

  She tensed. “Why? Did you marry her for her money?”

  Surprised laughter lit up his face. “What? No, of course not. It was the other way around.”

  “She married you for your money?”

  “It’s what she does.”

  “But you couldn’t see that.”

  “Not at the time, no. The truth is—” he hesitated, glanced down, then looked at her with an embarrassed grin. “The excruciating, humiliating truth is, when I was with her, I couldn’t see beyond the sheets.”

  “The sheets?” Behind her the meat started to sizzle and she turned toward the stove, got busy with the spatula. With her back to him, she said, “I see. She’s that good, is she?”

  “Well, yes, she is, to put it bluntly. She’s had a lot of practice.”

  “Uh-huh,” Shane said, still tending the skillet. “And so, like a typical male of the species—any species—you went blind above the waist.”

  Matt laughed ruefully. “You have a wicked way with words, Shane. Yeah, I’d say that’s exactly what happened. No excuses; I was an idiot. A real dickwad.”

  Shane laughed and turned to face him. “Dickwad, huh?”

  “I suffered for it eventually, believe me. I mentioned Vanessa practiced a lot? At the end it was with our business partner and my best friend. Make that former best friend.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. By that time it didn’t hurt so much where Vanessa was concerned—well, it did, but the bruising was mainly to my ego. Losing my best friend was much worse. She’s engaged to him now, poor sod.” He took a swallow of wine.

  Shane grinned. “Poor dickwad.”

  Matt snorted a laugh, then grimaced. “Hey, watch it!” he said, still laughing. “Wine up my nose!”

  She laughed as she handed him a paper towel.

  “Thanks,” he said. He mopped a dribble of wine from his upper lip. “Anyway, when I started to wake up from this five-year wet dream that had turned into a nightmare, my dear sister ruthlessly, and mercifully, yanked any remaining scales from my eyes. She gave me no quarter. A quick rip, lots of blood.”

  “Did you scream?” Shane turned back to the stove to stir the browning meat.

  “Like a sissy.”

  She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I think I like your sister.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’d definitely like Jenna, and she’d like you. Steffie, too.”

  “Steffie?”

  “My niece. She’s— I don’t have the words. She’s about to turn eight and she’s amazing, astonishing, miraculous. Just like her mom.”

  The meat was nearly done. Shane turned the burner to low, set the spatula on the counter and turned to look at Matt again. The love he felt for his sister and niece was evident in his eyes, in his whole being. More than intriguing, this man standing in her kitchen was getting closer and closer to perfect. Not perfect. No one was perfect. But close.

  She still wanted to know more. She wanted to know how his lips would feel on hers, how it would feel to be held in his arms. And she wanted to know how it felt to have a close family like that.

  “Maybe I’ll get to meet them some day,” she said.

  Matt saw the wistfulness in her eyes, and something much deeper, a sorrow that reached inside him and grabbed his heart in a tight fist.

  He couldn’t keep doing this, standing here talking to Shane as if he didn’t know anything about her, as if he didn’t know who she was. Even if he was about to ruin everything, he had to tell her the truth. He took two steps and pulled her into his arms.

  Surprised by the suddenness of it, at first Shane stiffened. Then, with a long sigh, she relaxed and went with it. She knew it was crazy for this to be happening so fast, but she couldn’t stop herself from melting against him.

  “Shane,” he breathed against her hair. “Shane, I have to tell you something.”

  She barely heard him. The initial shock of having one of her wishes come true so soon wore off in seconds and she burrowed into the warmth and scent of him, so male, so comforting. And so disturbing, but in a good way. A really good way. She wanted to stay like this forever. Well, maybe not forever; that remained to be seen. But she really wanted to find out where it might lead.

  Matt gripped her arms and gently pushed her away. “Shane,” he said. “Listen. Listen to me.”

  The tone of his voice, the serious look in his eyes, stopped her cold. “What is it, Matt?”

  She watched him pull off his apron, pick up the wine bottle and glasses and start toward the living room.

  “Let’s sit down,” he said.

  Shane glanced back at the stove. “What about dinner?”

  “Later,” he said.

  She turned off the burner and followed him, shedding her apron as she walked past the table, tossing it on a chair.

  Matt sat on the couch, put the wine glasses on the coffee table and refilled them. Shane chose the cushioned twig chair across from him. When she was seated, he handed her her glass.

  She couldn’t wait any longer. “Matt, you’re scaring me,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  She put her glass back on the coffee table. Every nerve was standing on edge. When Matt looked up at her, she saw something in his eyes that looked like apprehension. She held herself very still, waiting for the ax to fall.

  “I learned some things about you online, too,” he said.

  A cold thrill of fear ran down her spine. It was impossible. Wasn’t it? She’d done everything she could to make sure there was no traceable link between Shannon Malone and Shane MacKinnon. She wouldn’t even let Beth put a photo of her on the gallery’s website. No. He couldn’t have found out.

  “I thought your face looked familiar when I first saw you, but I couldn’t place you,” Matt said.

  Shane shook her head. No, no, no. Not now. Not tonight. She wanted to jump up and run from the room, but she felt frozen in place. His words droned relentlessly in her ears.

  “Then, during my meeting in L.A. on Tuesday, Vanessa was bitching about the money she’d lost to Ripley Investments, going on and on about Ripley’s daughter and how she’d disappeared with the missing money. I mentioned it to Jenna that night, and we started talking about it. She’d kept track because she felt sorry for the daughter—stepdaughter. Jenna was sure she wasn’t involved in the fraud.”

  Shane kept her eyes down so he couldn’t see what she knew was in them: Fear and rising panic. She heard Matt clear his throat. Her face felt like a mask made of burning ice. Matt started speaking again, his words raking over her.

  “Then Jenna said something about the stepdaughter being an artist, a weaver, and it clicked. We found a photo of Raymond Ripley and his son Jordan in front of the courthouse, with the stepdaughter in the background. Shannon Malone.”

  Finally she looked up at him, trying to read his feelings in his face and failing miserably.

  “I’m sorry, Shane,” he sai
d. “I should have told you right away, but I didn’t know how.”

  Her body refused to move; her mind reeled in confusion. She felt a growing ember of anger at her core. He knows. He knows.

  She tried to find her voice and it came out a ragged whisper. “Did you tell anyone else? You or your sister?”

  She saw his eyes go wide. “No, of course not. We wouldn’t do that. We’re not like that.”

  Shane tried to stand, but her trembling legs wouldn’t hold her. “How do I know that?” she said, her voice growing stronger. “I don’t know you at all, do I?” She turned her face away from him. “You should go now.”

  “I don’t want to leave you like this, Shane,” he said. His voice was quiet, pleading.

  She stared down at her hands clutched in her lap, knuckles white, fingers like icicles, and said again, “Go. Now.”

  Then it hit her, and the ember of anger flared into white rage. She raised her head and stared at him. “You’re the phone whisperer,” she said.

  Matt’s head whipped up. “What? I’m what?”

  Fury gave her the strength to stand, to point at him with a rigid arm. “You called me and whispered ‘Shannon.’ You bastard! Get out!”

  He stood to face her. “No, I didn’t! I don’t know anything about that. I don’t even have your phone number, remember?”

  Her voice was deadly calm now. “You found it. It wouldn’t be that hard for someone as smart as you.”

  “No, Shane, I— Wait. When? When did this happen?”

  “I don’t want you here. Get out of my house. Get out of my life!”

  “Shane, think for a minute. When did you get that call?”

  She barely heard him over the buzzing in her head. She had to make him go away. Now. “Leave!” she cried, fighting a whirlwind of panic that was about to send her spinning out of control.

  The stricken look on his face barely registered on her consciousness. When he finally walked away, she felt nothing but numb relief. She collapsed into the chair, dropped her head into her hands, tried to calm her breathing as her stomach churned with nausea.

  It was only after she heard the kitchen door shut that his last question registered: When did you get that call?

  She tried to think through the storm swirling in her brain. The call had come early Monday morning. It woke her a little after six. And Matt hadn’t left for L.A. until Monday afternoon. She knew that was true because she’d seen him drive away. He claimed he hadn’t found out who she was until Tuesday night.

  But how could she believe him, a man she barely knew?

  She thought of everything she’d learned about him, recalled the love in his eyes when he talked about his family; his frankness about his failed marriage; the sincere concern in his eyes, his voice, when he told her he knew who she was.

  Most of all, she remembered how he reached out to comfort her when she needed it, and how safe she felt in his arms.

  Either Matthew Brennan was the best actor on the face of the Earth, or else he was telling the truth.

  Oh, God. What had she done?

  FOURTEEN

  Shane was almost at the door, his name in her throat, when Matt shoved it open and stepped inside. His face was etched with anger or hurt, she couldn’t tell which. Maybe both. She stopped where she was and they stared at each other.

  “Were you going to lock me out?” he said, his voice a husky growl.

  Shane shook her head. She didn’t trust her voice, knew she was about to dissolve into tears.

  “I couldn’t leave you like that, Shane. You have to believe me, I didn’t—”

  She went to him, wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

  “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  He threw his arms around her. “Shane,” he breathed against her hair, “I’d never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded against his chest and let the tears come.

  Matt held Shane while she wept, his mind and heart in turmoil. He was sure of only two things. The first was that this beautiful woman in his arms—this woman he hardly knew, and yet knew to the depths of her soul—was about to massively complicate his life. And the second? She was worth every bit of it.

  After Shane’s tears ran out, he lifted her into his arms, carried her back to the living room and sat on the couch with her in his lap. She nestled her head against his shoulder and sighed deeply, her breath warm on his neck.

  When he pressed his lips to her temple in a soft caress, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him with such tenderness, such hope, that his heart contracted painfully. And then, surprising him, she raised her head and kissed him.

  Her lips were soft, so soft. Sweet. Sweeter than honey. And underneath, a hint, a promise, of heat. But not now, not yet. He knew what she needed from him now: comfort. Warmth and comfort. The heat would come later, when she was ready. At least he hoped it would. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take without getting her naked. He felt a twinge of guilt at the thought, but there it was. No use denying it.

  Shane looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

  That’s when it hit him with the force of a fastball in the chest: He was falling in love with Shane MacKinnon. He hardly knew her, and yet he knew with absolutely certainty that she was everything he’d ever wanted. He wanted to hold her like this for the rest of their lives. He wanted to wipe away her tears. He wanted to make her happy, take care of her, protect her from harm. He wanted to make babies with her and walk beside her as they grew old. He wanted to be buried next to her.

  Falling? It was completely nuts, but he couldn’t deny it: He was already in love with her. And it scared the crap out of him.

  His heart started pounding like he’d just run a marathon. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to get his pulse back under control. What if it was just the moment, the situation? What if what felt like love was only a flood of adrenaline, or endorphins, or some other crazy hormone? He had to give it time, act normal until he could sort this out. But what the hell was normal? He’d never fallen in love in a nanosecond before, so how did he know? He felt like a tongue-tied, brain-dead idiot.

  “I kissed you,” Shane whispered, still smiling up at him, her cheeks flushed with pink.

  “Yeah, you did,” he said. Well, that was brilliant.

  Shane shifted from his lap, sat beside him. He took her hand, intertwined his fingers with hers.

  “I didn’t mean to do that,” she said. “It just kind of happened.”

  Matt smiled. Act normal. It was getting easier. “Like an accident? Your lips just happened to bump into mine? If you want to take it back, forget it. I’m keeping it.”

  “No, I don’t want to take it back. It was—nice.”

  Matt let his head loll back on the couch. “Nice? Jeez, Shane, you really know how to hurt a guy.”

  She laughed. “Very, very nice.”

  She snuggled against him; he put his arm around her and drew her close. “So, want to do it again?” he said. Easier and easier; the most natural thing in the world.

  She looked sideways at him, a shy-sly glance from under her lashes. “Yes, but—”

  Hopefully ignoring the “but,” he leaned in, and she placed a hand on his chest, keeping him at bay.

  “Later,” she said, and smiled. “Kissing makes me hungry.”

  She stood and started toward the kitchen, then turned back. “You must think I’m crazy,” she said, “acting like that.”

  She’s crazy? If she only knew what was going on in his head. “What, kissing me?” he said.

  She laughed a little. “Be serious. I went postal on you. Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

  He caught up with her, lifted her chin, looked into her eyes. “Are you ready to tell me?”

  He could almost see the wheels turning as she thought it over. When she shook her head, he smiled and kissed that tiny vertical worry line right above the bridge of her nose.

 
; “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here,” he said. “Just tell me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Do you think you’re in any danger?” His eyes searched hers.

  “You mean physical danger, like someone trying to hurt me?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean. Because if you are—”

  “No. No, of course not.”

  “All right then,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the kitchen. “Someone promised me Tacos MacKinnon.”

  Her smile lit up his world.

  Fifteen minutes later they were sitting across from each other at the dining table, chowing down on the best tacos Matt had ever tasted, accompanied by his favorite beer, Dos Equis Amber, which Shane just happened to have in the fridge. Astounding woman.

  “Wow, these are great,” he said.

  Shane smiled around a mouthful of taco. “Yeah, I know,” she said, and swallowed. “I got the chilies in Hatch, where they have the—”

  “Hatch Chile Festival every Labor Day weekend. I went last year. Wait. You made this stuff from scratch?”

  “I did. Impressed?”

  “Blown away. You’re my ideal woman.” He held her gaze until she flicked her lashes down.

  Shane did a mental head shake. Was her heart going to keep tripping over itself every time he looked into her eyes? That kiss, as brief as it was, had been—something. Really something. And promised to lead to a whole lot of something more. The question was, was she ready to go there, ready to plunge in and hang on for the ride, wherever it went? She wasn’t sure yet.

  So this was good. Tacos and beer were good. Talking was good. They should talk. A lot.

  While she was searching her jumbled brain for a safe topic, Matt, bless him, came up with one. At least she thought it was safe.

  “With the whole country to chose from,” Matt asked her, “how did you end up in New Mexico?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “True, but I asked you first.”

  “Okay, I’ll go, then you,” Shane said.

  “Deal.” He took another swallow of Dos Equis, another bite of Tacos MacKinnon.