Her jaw dropped open at his question. "What difference does it make?"
His face tightened. "Shit. You've got a camera in there, don't you? Alma sent you after me, didn't she? Well, it won't work." He grabbed the purse off her arm.
"Hey, wait a second, that's mine." Before she could stop him, he'd opened her purse and dumped half her things out on the side table inside Serena's front door. "What are you doing?" Maggie demanded, stepping through the doorway.
"No camera," he said grimly, staring down at the pile of things that made up her life—crayons, peppermints, lipstick, scissors, a troll doll, three plastic black spiders, a comb and the letter from Serena to Keith.
"Why would I have a camera?"
"What about a tape recorder? Are you wired?"
She saw his gaze move from her face to her chest and had the sudden feeling he was about to rip open her shirt. "Don't even think about it," she warned, grabbing her stuff and piling it back into her purse. "Are you crazy or something?"
"You tell Alma that her little plan won't work. She's got nothing on me."
"Who is Alma?"
"Like you don't know," he scoffed. "I'll admit you're better disguised than the last dick she sent after me. But I can spot a setup a mile away."
"A dick?" Maggie spluttered. "You think I'm a private eye?" Good heavens! Had the world gone mad? Jeremy thought she was Crystal, and this man thought she was a private eye spying on him for some woman named Alma.
The man grabbed her arm and shoved her onto the porch.
"Wait. Wait," she cried. "I came to see Serena."
"Yeah, right."
"Is she here?
"I don't know anyone named Serena."
"Then why are you in her condo?"
"I got lost." He slammed the door in her face.
Maggie silently fumed, debating whether or not to ring the bell again. It was probably pointless. She wouldn't be able to get that jerk to listen to reason even if he did open the door.
Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm the flutters of panic and uncertainty. The obnoxious man had only reminded her that she was completely out of her depth here in L.A. and she would no doubt be better off going home. But she hated to leave now, when she was so close. Maggie turned and walked down the path. She had to admit that it was somewhat amusing to be mistaken for a private investigator. She almost felt like she was in a television movie. By the time she pushed open Jeremy's front door, she was feeling better and determined to come up with another plan.
She knew Jeremy would help her. And he was a writer. Surely he could think of some way for her to meet Serena.
Jeremy wasn't in his living room, but at her questioning call, he told her to come in, so she did. His condo was warm and inviting, the feel of the Pacific Southwest apparent in the Indian rugs on the floor and the series of spectacular photographs lining the hallway, boasting aerial photography of the Grand Canyon, the red cliffs of Sedona, and old town Albuquerque.
There were books and magazines littering every available table. Jeremy had obviously turned his dining room into an office, with papers strewn endlessly about. It was a man's house, endearingly messy, she thought with a smile.
"It's a mess, I know." Jeremy walked out of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. "I like to spread out when I'm working."
"I can see that."
He handed her a mug. "I thought you'd be back sooner since Serena isn't home."
She sent him a confused look. "Why didn't you tell me she wasn't home before I went over there?"
He tipped his head toward the phone. "Serena just called to ask me to pick up her newspaper for a couple of days. She was at the airport. I thought you'd ring the bell and come right back. What took you so long?''
"A man answered her door. He seemed to think I was spying on him. He kept asking me if Alma sent me."
Jeremy smiled. "Oh."
"Do you know him?"
"Can't say that I do."
"He acted so oddly. I mean, why would he think I was spying on him? He must be paranoid."
"Or married." Jeremy took another sip of his coffee.
She stared at him in dismay. "You're right. He kept saying Alma wasn't going to get anything on him."
"So, what now?"
Maggie thought for a moment. "Go home, I guess."
"Serena went to San Francisco," Jeremy said abruptly, a speculative gleam in his eye.
Maggie felt her pulse quicken at the new lead. "San Francisco?"
"It's only an hour by plane."
"No, I couldn't." Maggie immediately shook her head. Or could she? Lisa had agreed to stay until Monday. She could be back by tomorrow morning.
"I love watching you think," Jeremy said. "Everything goes through your eyes. You're worrying about something." His smile faded. "Someone's waiting for you, a man."
"No, not a man."
His expression lightened. "Good."
"This is foolish. I shouldn't even be considering it."
"Serena told me she was meeting someone in San Francisco, someone she hadn't seen in a long time. In fact, she said it had been so long she thought he was dead. It turned out he wasn't."
Maggie's stomach lurched. Her heart raced. Her palms began to sweat, and the mug fell from her fingers and smashed against the floor, splashing hot coffee in every direction. She barely felt the stinging drops of burning liquid that sprang up to her bare arms.
Serena thought he was dead, but it turned out he wasn't.
Oh, God. What did that mean? Was it possible? No, of course not. Still...
"Crystal." Jeremy grabbed her arm and gave her a shake until she finally focused on his face. "What's wrong? What did I say?"
"You said he might not be dead."
"Who?" Jeremy asked in bewilderment.
"My—my husband."
Chapter Ten
Lisa felt like she was part of a family again as she and Nick loaded the kids into his car, along with a stack of towels, some beach chairs, a Frisbee, a football and a picnic basket loaded with food. The kids squabbled as they squeezed into the backseat, arguing over who would sit in the middle. The tension broke when the dog leapt into the car and settled down in the center of the bench seat, barking with excitement.
"You're not going, Sally," Nick said. "Go on, get outta here." He waved his hand at the dog.
"Sally loves the beach," Dylan protested, throwing his arms around Sally's neck. "And she needs to run. Mom usually walks her every day, and since Mom is gone..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Nick grumbled. "Fine. She can come. The rest of you buckle up."
Lisa smiled as she slid into the passenger seat. Nick was a complete pushover where the kids were concerned. He tried to be stern but failed every time, and they knew exactly which buttons to push.
"Did you remember the sunscreen?" Lisa asked as Nick turned the key in the ignition.
He sent her a disgusted look. "Sunscreen? You mean we don't have one bottle of sunscreen in the eighty-six bags you threw into the back?"
"It was just a question."
"I put some in, Aunt Lisa," Roxy piped up. "I don't want to get more freckles."
"Anything else?" Nick asked.
"You know you wanted to come," Lisa pointed out.
"Because your car isn't working, and I'd hate for the kids to be stuck in the house all day."
"Then let's go."
"We're going." He backed out of the driveway, then stopped. "Oops, I almost forgot."
"What now?" Lisa asked.
Nick rolled down the windows and turned on the radio. "Music, baby."
He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back as the sounds of Matchbox Twenty came blaring through the car. "I haven't listened to them in ages."
"They used to be your favorite group."
"I remember," she said with a sigh as he drove down the street. The music pulsed through her body, and with the warm wind in her hair and Nick by her side, she felt nineteen again—and in love. Her
lips curved into another smile. She couldn't help it. She had plenty of reasons to dislike Nick, but at the moment she had a hard time remembering what they were. The good memories were coming back, and she wasn't sure she could stop them even if she tried—that is, if she wanted to try.
For the moment, it was easier to simply sit back in her seat and enjoy the day.
* * *
Nick smiled to himself as the song ended and another one began. Lisa looked suddenly younger, more carefree, the way she'd been when they had first begun to date.
Although Lisa had grown up under his feet, she'd always been Maggie's friend. Besides that, she was two years younger and had been too young to fool with, until he ran into her after her high school graduation. By then he was living on his own in an apartment on the beach with two other guys. He had just begun his junior year at San Diego State and hadn't seen Lisa in almost two years.
When he saw her at a party, he couldn't believe she was all grown up. He'd been drawn to her beauty, of course, but also her quiet. She didn't talk a lot. In fact, she'd often seemed vulnerable to him, with fragile feelings that could easily be hurt. Once he got to know her, he realized she had a quick wit, an easy laugh, a loving smile, a killer competitive instinct, and a good heart.
And she'd listened to him, to all his crazy dreams about playing guitar in a rock and roll band even though they both knew he didn't have nearly enough talent. In those days, their dreams had touched the sky.
Although Lisa had been reluctant to share her own goals at first, she'd finally come to trust him enough to tell him how much she wanted to write a novel. She'd even shown him some of the journals she'd kept throughout her childhood, pages of daydreams that had kept her company in a family where she seemed the odd one out.
Not that he'd ever seen her that way. It had always been obvious to him that Silvia adored her daughter. They were just different. Silvia was hot, fast, impetuous. Lisa was cool, calm and thoughtful. And her great-aunt, Carmela, had only widened the divide between mother and daughter with her weekly spiritual gatherings, as she liked to call them.
Lisa hadn't wanted to introduce him to her family at first. For awhile, he thought she was ashamed of him. Then he realized she was worried about his reaction to them. Finally, he'd managed to convince her that he loved her unconditionally. And finally, she'd trusted him enough to believe that.
It was funny. Lisa had always been an optimist where his dreams were concerned, but she'd always been a pessimist about herself. Not that she didn't try to win. Despite her inherent insecurity, she loved to compete and adored winning, especially card games, where her incredible memory made her remember every hand. They'd had a great time in Vegas one year.
In fact, they'd always had a good time together, whether they were going to the movies or a comedy club or the beach. They'd been surprisingly compatible, or maybe they'd just been willing to share everything. He'd suffered through the tear-jerking movies she'd loved, and she'd gamely stayed out until three in the morning so he could hear a new band play. The most important thing was that they were together. Nothing else had mattered.
Nick snuck a glance in Lisa's direction. She seemed content to look out the window while the kids chattered in the backseat. He'd missed her, he suddenly realized. When she'd left, he hadn't just lost a child and a wife, he'd lost his best friend. He wondered if she'd missed him. Probably not, he decided. He knew one thing about her that hadn't changed. When someone hurt her, she never forgave them.
Lisa turned and looked at him. She raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Something wrong?"
It was such a simple question to cover just how much was wrong between them. How had they ever gotten to this place, two strangers who had once been everything to each other?
He shook his head. "Everything's fine. Maggie tells me you're in advertising now. Do you like it?"
"Yes. Although I like the writing better than everything else. Not that I don't enjoy meeting clients and all that, but I still get a thrill out of coming up with just the right slogan." She smiled somewhat self-consciously. "I know it's not brain surgery, but it suits me."
"You always did want to write. I'm glad you found a job where you could do just that."
"Me, too." She was quiet for a moment, then smiled at him. "Thanks, Nick."
"For what?"
"Understanding." She turned away as if she were sorry she'd said something so personal.
Nick didn't press her for more. He wasn't sure he'd get it, nor was he sure he wanted it. He and Lisa had closed the door on their relationship a long time ago, and whether or not he'd been in favor of ending it at that time was water under the bridge. It had ended. That was the bottom line. Whoever said you can't go back was probably right.
* * *
"I'm old." Nick said a half hour later as he tossed down the football and collapsed on the sand next to Lisa, his breath coming fast, sweat beading along his forehead. "I've just been trounced by an eight-year-old."
Lisa shaded her eyes against the sun as she checked on the kids. Roxy had found a friend, and they were lounging about twenty feet away, pretending to be completely alone on the beach, so that the group of boys a few feet away might come over and start flirting. Dylan and Mary Bea were throwing a stick into the water, watching in delight as Sally jumped into the waves to retrieve it.
It was early spring, and although the day was warm, the ocean water was cold. Dylan and Mary Bea seemed content to let Sally do the wading, which was fine with Lisa, who had no desire to stick even her big toe into the ocean. She'd always loved to sunbathe. Swimming through waves that pounded her into the sand had never been her idea of a good time.
Lisa looked at Nick. His eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving. His face was red, and he appeared hot. A devilish thought came into her mind, and, acting on impulse—something she hadn't done in years—she scooped a couple of small melting ice cubes out of the ice chest and let the cold water drip onto Nick's face.
His eyes flew open as he sat up. "What the hell--"
"Just wanted to make sure you weren't asleep," she said with a laugh.
She knew she'd made a huge mistake when Nick reached into the ice chest and came up with a large chunk of ice. She scooted back on the blanket, but she couldn't get away from him fast enough.
Nick grabbed her arm, pulled open the neck of her shirt and dumped the ice down her chest. She gasped and jumped to her feet, shaking the ice cubes out from her shirt. "That wasn't fair."
He laughed. "You started it."
She glared at him. "Fine. You're right. You win."
He gave her a doubtful look. "You're going to let me win that easily?"
"I'm not a child. I can take losing."
"Since when?"
"Since—oh, shoot. Do you think Mary Bea is too close to the water?"
As Nick turned to look at the children, Lisa grabbed another handful of ice, pulled open the back of Nick's shorts and dumped the ice.
"Yow!" Nick started dancing, hopping up and down on one foot as he tried to shake the ice out of his shorts. "That does it. Now you've made me mad."
At the look of murder in Nick's eyes, Lisa took off down the beach. Nick ran after her. She sprinted past Roxy and her girlfriends and headed toward Mary Bea and Dylan.
"Are you playing tag?" Dylan asked.
"Yes," Nick shouted. "Anyone who can push Aunt Lisa into the water gets ten bucks."
"Cool!" Dylan tossed down the stick in his hand as he ran after Lisa.
Lisa ran faster as they gained on her, but it wasn't long before Nick, Dylan and Mary Bea tackled her.
She hit the ground hard, getting a fistful of sand, which she promptly tossed into Nick's face while Dylan and Mary Bea laughed, and Sally barked with delight.
Nick pushed her back on the sand and pinned her hands over her head. She would have yelled at him, but she was completely out of breath.
"Say it," he ordered.
"Uncle," she gasped.
"Uncle w
ho?" Mary Bea asked curiously.
"It means I give up," Lisa said. "Let me go."
Nick laughed. "I don't think so. You haven't said the magic words."
"Which are what?"
"You win, Nick, You're the best."
"You win, Nick. You're the best," she said with a mocking smile.
"I'm always wrong and you're always right," he added.
"You got that right," she said.
He frowned. "That's not what I meant. You say I'm always wrong, and you're always right."
"Not in this lifetime."
"Okay." He looked over at Dylan and Mary Bea. "Guess we'll have to tickle her."
"Don't you dare," she warned, but it was too late. Mary Bea and Dylan dived into her, their little hands tickling every sensitive spot until she begged for mercy.
That's when Nick picked her up and headed toward the water. She flung her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life. "Nick, please. It's cold."
He waded in deeper. "What will you give me if I don't drop you?"
"What do you want?" she cried as the ocean spray hit her hot face with shocking coldness.
"I don't know. What are you offering?"
She stared into his teasing eyes. "I'll give you a hug."
"How about a kiss?"
"On the cheek."
"Open mouth, all tongue."
"No way. Think of the children. Think of our—our divorce. Think of Raymond."
"Are you thinking of Raymond, Lisa?"
She should be thinking of Raymond, but Nick's face was too close, his eyes too bright, his lips so damn sexy,
"Raymond is a great guy," she said desperately.
"So am I, and I'm the one who's holding you. So what's it going to be?''
"Nick, think of the children. We'll only confuse them more."
Nick glanced over his shoulder at Mary Bea and Dylan, who had lost interest in them and were tossing a stick to Sally. "The children are fine. They're not paying any attention to us." He began to lower her toward the water.
"Wait. Wait. All right. One kiss on the mouth—no tongues."
Nick laughed. "You seem to be under the misguided impression that you have some say in this."
Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6 Page 14