A Love So Strong

by Kathryn Shay

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Caught off Guard

  Opposites Attract

  An Impossible Mission

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Practice Makes Perfect

  ** These novellas were previously published by Harlequin Enterprises from 2002-2005 on their website as prequels to The Serenity House Series. Be sure to get a copy of the boxed set or individually, PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, A PLACE TO BELONG, AGAINST THE ODDS.

  Caught off Guard

  Jillian Kimball exited her rented car amidst the eerie glow of the streetlamps. She stood before her home on North Boulevard in the sleepy town of Hyde Point, New York, and willed her hands not to shake. The house looked the same as it had 10 months ago when she walked out of the place. But she wasn't the same. She was so different, sometimes she didn't recognize the old Jillian: Yale graduate, hotshot lawyer, unfaithful wife.

  Shaken by being here, and by what she was about to do, she summoned the words of wisdom that had brought her back to town, words given to her by her husband's grandfather, whom she loved dearly.

  When you grow old, you'll regret the things you didn't do, not what you did do.

  Drawing the key from her purse, she hefted up the travel bag she carried and began the precarious trek back to salvage some of her old life—the old life she'd so cavalierly given up. And only had a few days to recover.

  She made her way down the sidewalk and onto the porch. Big pillars flanked the entryway. She remembered designing them with her husband, Riley.

  I want the pillars tall and massive, she'd told him.

  It's overstated, he'd retorted.

  Although building their first house together had been fun, there, too, was the struggle for control. The feelings had been painful, the need to dominate that both she and her almost-ex shared. Even though the tiffs had usually ended in bed, where everything had been glorious.

  Keeping that image in her brain, she faced the front door of the two-story contemporary. No lights shone downstairs, but peeking in the foyer window, she noted a faint yellow glow from their bedroom. Was Riley home? Was he alone?

  She angled her chin. It didn't matter. She couldn't have called. If she'd warned him she was coming, he wouldn't see her. And she believed her success in this mission depended on catching him off guard and keeping him there for the next three days.

  Coincidentally, the finalizing of their divorce came at the same time of their law firm's annual outreach work. Every year, businesses in Hyde Point sent their employees for a stint of do-gooding. This spring's project was giving the city's home for girls a face-lift. Serenity House was a facility that had taken in troubled teenage girls for the past 15 years. Hyde Associates represented them, and when Nathan Hyde had taken a leave from his firm to run for Congress, Jill had asked to fill in as Serenity House's attorney. She loved working with the proprietor, Nora Nolan. Consequently, Jill had seen this opportunity as the perfect time to come home. Of course, she also hoped to convince Riley not to divorce her.

  Going through the three upcoming days, and facing the person she'd been, as well as what she'd done to the only man she ever loved, scared the hell out of Jill. But there was only one way to find out if he'd take her back. And that was to ask him.

  That and be around so he'd remember the good things.

  Quietly, she let herself into the house. The air smelled like spaghetti sauce—his favorite.

  If you cook for me tonight, I'll make extra-special love to you.

  It's your turn to cook for me.

  She shook her head. She'd give her eyeteeth to be able to make meals for Riley again.

  Setting her bag down on the tile floor, she stiffened her spine and climbed the winding oak staircase. At the top, she drew in a breath and headed to the master suite. The door was ajar and she could hear the TV on low. Even that had come between them.

  I hate when you watch television in our bedroom, she’d told him.

  I like it. Use your earplugs.

  Jill stepped inside. The brass bed was messy, the covers askew. She heard water running in the bathroom. She was standing just inside the doorway when Riley came out.

  Naked.

  He froze when he saw her, his arms arrested in the act of drying his wheat-colored hair with a towel.

  His chiseled features went from startled to puzzled, to completely and utterly contemptuous. He drew in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and lowered the towel, knotting it around his waist. His blue eyes burned cold fire. "Huh! If it isn't my long lost wife." He glanced at the Rolex he always wore. "For a few more days, that is."

  "Hello, Riley."

  His voice like death, he asked, "What do you want, Jillian?" Not Jill, what he usually called her. And certainly not Jilly, which he whispered in bed.

  Her heart raced in her chest and her palms got clammy. But she threw back her hair and faced him squarely. "I want another chance, Riley. I want to give our marriage another try."

  oOo

  Riley Sullivan was dumbstruck by the sight of his wife standing in their bedroom. For a minute, he was transported back to when they were together, when they shared the events of their days, their hopes and dreams, their bodies in this very room. He'd been poleaxed when it all ended.

  But soon, the pain started again, like a little bud of agony blossoming whenever he remembered what she'd done to him.

  He started to laugh. Even to his own ears it was an ugly sound. "Well, now, sweetheart, that's the best joke I've heard in 10 months."

  Her face shadowed. Those big brown eyes were…wounded. She'd changed physically—gained weight, which looked good on her, and let her hair grow. It seemed lighter.

  Is it natural? he'd asked one night when they'd sat in front of the fireplace in his apartment and he rubbed strands of her blond hair between his fingers. They were just getting close, and had been dating for a month.

  Leaning over and grazing his ear with her mouth, she'd said, There's only one way to find out.

  Because she'd meant to tease him, because she'd tried to get the upper hand in their relationship from day one—and had succeeded—he'd flipped her to her back and slid her jeans down before she had time to think.

  It was natural. As natural and right as the love-making that followed.

  "This isn't a joke, Rye."

  He swallowed hard at the nickname.

  She added, "I want to get back together."

  She seemed sincere, but then she always had, even when she was cutting his soul to ribbons. To steel himself against her, he crossed to the dresser and pulled out pj bottoms. His back to her, he dropped the towel and slid into them. Then he turned around. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned against the built-in wall unit. "On the outside chance you might mean that, let me make myself perfectly clear. There isn't a reason on this earth, a possible explanation or excuse that could make me consider that proposal. So why don't you just skulk away in the night like you did 10 months ago and let me get some sleep."

  He crossed to the bed and dropped down on the new covers. He'd torn the others apart, literally, when she told him she'd slept with another man…

  I'm sorry, Rye. Please forgive me.

  He'd sprung at her, grabbed her roughly. Where? When?

  She'd trembled violently. When you were away on the Caruso case. At the Boxwood Inn.

  He'd shaken her hard. I can't believe it.

  Rye, please.

  He'd practically flung her across the room. Get out. Now…

  "Riley, did you hear me?"

  "No. I was thinking about the last time you were in this room."

  Her light complexion reddened. But she raised that chin. "I said I'm not leaving. I'm staying here for the weekend."


  "What?"

  "I still partly own this house, for a few more days at least."

  His heart pounded now. All right, he'd play this out. "Why, Jillian? Why are you here? Why are you doing this?"

  "Because I made a mistake. And I want to rectify it." She drew in a breath. "And because I love you."

  oOo

  "What the hell is she doing here?" Jase McKay asked on Saturday morning when Jill walked into the meeting room where tasks for the weekend work at Serenity House would be assigned.

  "She came back to town last night," Riley told his best friend since college.

  "She's still got two months on her leave of absence from the firm. What does she want?"

  Riley drew a cup of coffee, which he needed like a junkie craving a fix. For obvious reasons, he hadn't slept well. "She says she wants me."

  "What?"

  "My sentiments exactly." Riley dropped down into a chair.

  "Did you tell her to go to hell?"

  Thinking about her stance last night—This is still my house until Monday, and I'm staying in it—he got mad all over again. What right did she have to prance into his bedroom and disrupt his life? Losing her last year had almost killed him and he was just getting his equilibrium back.

  "I tried booting her out. She does own half the house."

  "Son of a bitch."

  "Look, I—"

  "There you are, boy." Riley turned to find his grandfather behind him. One of the few things that brought a smile to his face during the past difficult year was this man who had raised him. Big and burly, Mick Sullivan was almost eighty and retired, but he showed up every year to partake in the firm's charitable work, doing whatever he could to give back to society.

  "Hi, Grandpa." Hell, he hadn't thought about Mick's reaction to seeing Jill. At one time, the old guy thought she walked on water.

  So did you, buster.

  They were both wrong.

  "Mick, I've got to tell you something." Riley stood and slid his arm around his grandpa's shoulder. "Come sit down."

  But Mick had glanced to the back of the room before Riley could warn him. "Oh, good God."

  For a split second, Riley froze. Looking fragile in painter's pants and a T-shirt, with her hair tied up in a youthful ponytail, Jill stopped dead in her tracks. Then, she flew across the room and, stunning Riley, launched herself at his grandfather.

  Mick caught her, and scooped her up in a big hug. "So, you came back."

  Jill nodded. Riley was further shocked when she pulled away and there were tears in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. This from a woman who’d had no time, or use, for crying. "It's so good to see you."

  "Shouldn't have left in the first place, girl." His grandfather tried to sound stern, but Riley could hear the joy in his voice.

  Damn her. She'd hurt a lot more people than just him when she hit the sheets with Rafe Santilli. To avoid the sight of her gone all soft and feminine, Riley walked out of the room, out of the house, and onto the porch. Fresh air made him feel better. Dropping down onto the wooden swing, which needed sanding and re-staining, he sipped his coffee and tried to harden his heart.

  "Want to talk?" Jase had followed him.

  Riley shrugged.

  His friend leaned against the railing. "You okay?"

  "I'm numb. Pissed." And something else. The smell of her had lingered in the bedroom after she left last night, and the sound of her moving around down the hall had called to him. And then he'd dreamed about her. How her skin felt. How she whispered, "Rye" when he was inside her. He'd slept fitfully, and awakened hard and hungry.

  For Jill Kimball, a woman who'd been his wife for five years but refused to share his name, always kept a part of herself invulnerable and never let herself go with him.

  Jase was talking. "The divorce is final Monday. I'll make sure she signs the papers." Also a lawyer, Jase represented him.

  "Yeah." The thought of that final act of severance made Riley's heart constrict, as if he were about to lose a limb.

  "You gotta hold out till then."

  "Yeah," he repeated.

  "Anything I can do?"

  "Be my friend, like you have the last year." When Jill had broken his heart, shamed him in front of the entire firm, and changed him irrevocably.

  Best to remember all that.

  oOo

  The May sun beat down mercilessly on the peaked and gabled roof of Serenity House. Her face damp, her hair limp and sweat running down her back, Jill lifted the hammer and pounded one of the shingles into place. Her shoulders ached and her fingers were numb. From not too far away, Riley mirrored her actions, but kept darting glances at her. He looked tired today. She'd heard him prowling around last night, had wanted to go to him and soothe him, like she used to.

  Let me put you to sleep, Rye.

  Hmm. Sounds good.

  I love you.

  I love you, too.

  "Ouch." Damn, she'd missed the nail and hit her finger while she was daydreaming.

  "What's wrong?" Riley yelled over.

  "Nothing. I hit my hand."

  His face reddened with pique. "Damn it, you shouldn't be up here."

  "Why?" She angled her chin. "Don't tell me you've gone chauvinist in the last ten months?"

  “I’ve changed a lot, Jillian." His tone, and the finality in it, chilled her.

  She focused back on the shingle she held, ignoring the throbbing in her hand, and the jagged pain in her heart.

  "Why the hell are you up here? You used to be afraid of heights."

  Hard work, the kind you sweat at, clears the head, and heals the soul. She'd taken Mick's words to heart when she was away, and had done a lot of volunteer work. Among other things, it had brought her to where she was today.

  She hissed in a breath as the hammer found the same finger again.

  Swearing vilely, Riley crossed to her. Precariously—they were twenty feet up and on a slope a mountain goat would have trouble navigating—he knelt down beside her. "Let me see."

  Her immediate reaction was to resist, to say she could take care of herself. But that was the old Jill, the old relationship. She stuck out her arms. He whipped off his gloves, then one of hers.

  His hands were beautiful, long, tapered, sprinkled with dark blond hair. She remembered what magic they worked on her body. "Shit, Jill, your hands are all swollen."

  "I'm fine."

  He stared down. "What happened to the fancy manicures?"

  “They stopped. Like a lot of things for me." She drew in a breath. "I told you, I've changed. It's why I came back."

  Looking up, his blue eyes were tumultuous. This was hurting him, and she regretted that. But she had to try to rectify the horrible mistake she'd made. "Where'd you go?"

  "To Paris."

  His face shadowed. They'd spent their honeymoon there.

  "I stayed at the Hotel du Frontenac for a while."

  He gripped her fingers.

  "It wasn't the same without you."

  Despite his anger, he whispered, "That was the best time of my life."

  "Mine, too. It's why I went back. I wanted to find what we had there."

  Like it was a live wire, he dropped her hand. "You weren't going to find it there." The pain on his face, the rawness of his voice, killed her. He stood and anchored his feet on the slope. His jeans were threadbare, gloving his thighs. His hips were narrow. His shoulders broad.

  And up here, on the roof of Serenity House, she sucked in her breath, she wanted him back so much.

  "You lost what we had in Rafe Santilli's bed. And you're never going to find it again. Why don't you just go away and stop whatever it is that you're trying to do with all this."

  Gingerly, he made his way to where he'd been working.

  Jill watched him, seized by fear. What if she couldn't convince him to take her back? What would she do?

  Damn it, she wasn't giving up.

  You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take, Mic
k had written her.

  He was right. She might lose Riley, but she wasn't giving up. She still had two days to convince him.

  oOo

  Riley sat on a stool in Rascal's, a Hyde Point bar that catered to the older crowd. He scanned the rich mahogany wood, the dim lighting, and a scattering of tables around the dance floor. Anything to keep from watching the door to see if Jill would come to the firm's traditional Friday night after-work gathering. All of the outreach volunteers were joined by regular staff and some of their spouses.

  "Where is she?" Jase's voice came from behind him.

  Turning, Riley shook his head. "God, am I that obvious? It's bad enough she cast me as the cuckolded husband ten months ago. Now I'm cryin' in my beer in front of our whole firm?"

  "Nah. I just know you, buddy." Jase sipped his Molson. "Besides, everybody at Hyde Associates adores you, and thinks she's a bitch."

  The comment caused Riley to wince. In one of the few times he could get her to talk about their relationship, Jill had made a comment about how Riley was so well-liked, so personable, she often felt as though she was struggling to catch up on the popularity ladder. When he'd made partner, and she hadn't, everything started to fall apart.

  "So, is she coming tonight?" Jase asked.

  "I don't know. She took Mick home."

  "Mick? As in your grandfather?"

  "Yep. The old guy always loved her. Treated her like the prodigal daughter when he saw her today."

  Actually, he'd always treated her like a daughter. Again, Riley was hit by a memory that made him stop and think. Jill's words about Mick: It must be so nice to have unconditional love like that. Has he been that way since your parents died?

  Yep. I take it for granted, I guess.

  She'd been quiet. So he'd asked, You never got that from your mom and dad, did you?

  Are you kidding? Unless I had straight A’s in every subject, was captain of the soccer team, and made all honor rolls and activities, they were distanced. Until I'd measured up again.

  Riley remembered thinking at the time that maybe that was why she was so competitive, so reluctant to share herself. At first those traits had challenged him, then her remote behavior began to eat at him and he wanted more from her.