Almost Perfect (9 page)

She probably should have resented him for that, but she couldn't. It was who he was. It was like resenting feathers on a bird—a waste of time. He was who he had always been—a basically good guy with a few faults.

Their eyes met. Something crackled between them. Awareness, she thought, feeling a sense of yearning she hadn't felt for years. A wanting that was based on both what she knew had been possible once, and a sense of loss. She'd carried emptiness around for so long now. A dark hole where her love for Ethan had once lived.

There had been other men who had tried to claim her heart, or at least her body and her attention. Occasionally she'd had relationships. With Ryan, she'd done her best to convince herself she was in love—but she'd been wrong. There had only ever been Ethan.

He'd been the one who had made her believe, both in herself and in possibilities. With him, she'd been able to imagine a place that wasn't Fool's Gold. They'd talked about going away together, about a future. He'd told her that he wanted to marry her.

She felt a sudden unsteadiness, even though she was sitting. As if past and present had somehow become entwined. She knew that wasn't possible, that she and Ethan were incredibly different people. That any feelings she had were the result of the wine and the stress and maybe how good he looked sitting across from her.

He swore under his breath. “Don't,” he breathed. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Instead of answering, he rose and circled the bar. She came to her feet without being prompted. They were standing so close, she could feel the heat of him.

They stared at each other, a sense of the inevitable growing. Of being unable to escape, and knowing she didn't want to. Then his hands were cupping her face, drawing her to him. She went willingly, pressing herself against him even as his mouth claimed hers.

The kiss was hot, insistent, erotic. His mouth was firm and tender, better than she remembered and she
had thought she'd remembered it all. Her arms went around him as she held on.

They pressed together, hard to soft, male to female. He was thicker, broader. A man now. A man who pulled her close and tempted her with a kiss that tore at her soul.

Their tongues tangled in rediscovered erotic yearning. He tasted of the wine and of himself—flavors that were impossible to resist. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, leaned into him, wishing she could crawl inside. He dropped his hands to her hips, his fingertips lightly touching the curve of her butt. Without thinking, she pushed her hips toward him in an age-old invitation. Her belly came in contact with something hard and thick and dangerous.

Sexual need exploded. It crashed into her with no warning and left her breathless and hungry. Desire poured through her, liquid heat that stole her strength, her will and her common sense. Knowing he wanted her, knowing what he would feel like inside of her, was too much.

Maybe it was the past she couldn't seem to escape, or everything that had happened in the last couple days. The emotional ups and downs that left her unable to think things through. All she knew was that she wanted Ethan with a passion she hadn't experienced in a long time and if she didn't have him that second, she would probably die.

He must have read her mind, or felt the shift in her
body because the hands on her hips tightened. He moved his mouth from hers, only to trace an arousing line down her jaw to her neck. He nipped on her earlobe, before licking the sensitive spot right below it.

He pulled up her T-shirt, then reached behind her and unfastened her bra. His mouth closed on her tight, aching nipples, licking and sucking until she shivered with arousal. Each tug, each stroke, sent fire racing through her. She burned everywhere. The frantic need grew until it was more powerful than her heartbeat, more necessary than air.

Her legs were weak, her core swollen and damp. She touched his arms, his chest, then dropped her hand to his erection, cupping him through the thick fabric of his jeans.

Still sucking on her breasts, he shoved up her skirt and slipped his fingers between her thighs. He found the promised land on the first try, easing his fingers against the hypersensitive, swollen flesh. She pulled back long enough to rip off her cotton bikini panties, then returned to his welcoming embrace.

He thrust two fingers inside her, using his thumb to rub her very center. In a matter of seconds, she could barely breathe. Tension and pleasure competed. Her legs wobbled.

Ethan eased her back a step. She felt the kitchen island behind her. As he slid her onto it, she heard flatware hit the floor, followed by the crash of a dinner plate. His gaze locked with hers, as if the sound didn't
matter. As if there was only this moment and the two of them.

He was still rubbing her, moving his fingers in and out. Her muscles tightened around him, drawing him in deeper. He stroked with a sureness that allowed her to surrender. The steady rhythm of his thumb matched the pounding of her heart. She could see the fire burning in his dark eyes and knew there was no turning back. Maybe that chance had never existed.

She unfastened his belt, then the button on his jeans. She eased down the zipper, mindful of how big and hard he was, and how good he would feel inside her.

She shoved his jeans down his hips, then did the same with his boxers. The second she freed him, he stepped forward, replaced his fingers with his erection and pushed into her.

The force of the thrust pushed her back a good six inches. She braced herself on the countertop, her hands jarring loose a glass and more flatware. She didn't care. Nothing mattered but how he filled her, stretching her, satisfying her, going deeper and harder, the heat building between them.

He had hold of her hips. She wrapped her legs around him. They were joined so completely, she had the feeling they could never be separate again. More and more until all she could think about was the pleasure spilling over and around and then she was coming.

She cried out her release. His low groan accompa
nied her sounds of satisfaction. They strained toward each other, making it last as long as possible, the contractions slowing and finally stilling.

The kitchen was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the sound of their breathing. Reality returned as Liz slowly lowered her legs and Ethan stepped back.

She'd just had sex with Tyler's father—on a kitchen bar. She'd been back in town less than a week and she'd already surrendered to a man who had rejected her years ago, accused her of lying and keeping his son from him. A man who was nothing but trouble, with a huge family and ties to a town she couldn't wait to leave.

“Crap,” she muttered as she carefully slid to her feet, then stood and steadied herself. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Liz,” he began.

She held up a hand to stop him. “Don't,” she ordered as she pulled down her skirt. Her panties were somewhere on the floor, but she didn't bother looking for them. “Just don't. This was really stupid. On the stupid scale, it gets a ten.”

He pulled up his boxers and jeans. “It's not like I planned this. It was just one of those things.”

Typical man, she thought, picking her way through the broken glass. It was a whole lot more than that. It was trouble. No matter what happened between them, the sex would be lurking. She'd given in when she'd meant to be strong.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she demanded. “Don't you ever use a condom?”

He stiffened.

She sucked in a breath. “I'm on the pill, you idiot, but haven't you learned anything since high school? This was a huge mistake. It never happened. Am I clear? Never.”

“You can't pretend it away.”

“Watch me,” she declared as she made her way to the front door.

Her purse was where she'd left it, on the small table in the entryway. She grabbed it and left, walking briskly to the sidewalk, ignoring the slightly squishy feeling that was the lingering proof of what they'd just done.

Ethan didn't come after her and she was grateful. By the end of the block, she was willing to admit she might have overreacted. By the second block, she knew the person she was really angry with was herself, not him. By the time she got home, she didn't feel any better about what had happened and she didn't have a clue how she was ever going to face him again.

Whoever said you couldn't go home again had been dead wrong, she thought as she climbed the steps to the house where she'd grown up. You could and being there was nothing but a disaster.

P
ASSING THROUGH A METAL
detector, then being patted down before going into prison had a way of putting one's life in perspective, Liz thought the next morning as she waited while the guard searched her purse. When she'd been cleared to proceed, she followed yet another guard into a small room with a table, half a dozen chairs and a small window looking out onto a courtyard.

Since it wasn't a regular visiting day or a normal visiting room, they would have an element of privacy. She pulled out a metal chair and sat down. The room was cool and despite the small size, she felt oddly exposed. Although that could have more to do with what had happened the previous evening than her meeting with Roy.

She hadn't slept at all. Telling herself she'd acted irresponsibly and impulsively didn't make for a restful night. Nor did the waves of sense memory that shuddered through her from time to time. Physical reminders of the music Ethan had played on her skin.

The last thing they needed were more complications, but here they were. And she had no one to blame but herself.

Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed the memories and recriminations to the back of her mind. She would beat herself up some more on the drive back to Fool's Gold. Right now she had to concentrate on seeing her brother for the first time in nearly eighteen years.

As if on cue, the door—opposite the one she'd used—opened and a man entered. He was a few inches taller than her, with thin gray hair and weary green eyes. She knew Roy was in his forties, but he could have easily passed for a man in his sixties. For a second he stared, confused, then he smiled.

“Damn. Look at you,” he greeted as he approached. “They said I had a visitor. I couldn't figure out who. It's not the regular day and no one comes to see me. I thought it was a mistake. How you doing, Liz?”

“Hi, Roy. It's been a long time.”

She'd been twelve when he'd taken off without warning, leaving her in the hands of an indifferent parent. Still a child. She'd grown up a lot that summer.

“You look good,” he told her, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down. “I've read your books. You're famous now, aren't you?”

“Not exactly.” She settled in a chair across the table. “But I know a guy who got me in to see you on a non-visiting day.”

“That's something.”

He looked tired—as if the road of life had been too long.

“I'm real proud of you, Lizzy,” he continued. “Real proud.”

“Thanks.” She glanced around the bleak room. “What happened? How'd you end up here?”

He shrugged. “There was a fight in a bar. I defended myself, but the D.A. didn't see it that way. It wasn't my fault.”

The words were familiar. It had been like this before, she thought sadly. When she'd been younger. Nothing had ever been his fault.

“How long are you in?” she asked.

“Fifteen to twenty. I'll get out sooner. For good behavior.” He leaned toward her. “You seen my girls?”

“I have. They're great. They miss you.”

“I miss 'em, too. I should write more, I know. Time has a way of slipping by. I'm a busy man.”

He was in prison—how busy could he be? But she knew there was no point in having that conversation.

“I was surprised you'd moved back to Fool's Gold,” she said. “When did that happen?”

“After Mom died.” He frowned. “I thought you knew. I always stayed in touch with her. I came back when she got sick. It was fast. She went into the hospital and a week later she was gone. I'd just married Bettina and we didn't have a place, so when I found out Mom had left me the house, I moved us there.”

She shook her head. “You stayed in touch with Mom? You wrote and called?”

“Sure. I wrote you, too. After I left. You never answered. I thought you were irritated or something.”

“I never got the letters,” she said softly, trying to breathe through the pain. Roy had written? She'd thought he'd simply disappeared, abandoning her without a second thought.

“You know what Mom was like,” Roy reminded her. “She had her weird rules.”

Liz remembered. Her last contact with her mother had been the older woman's request that Liz not bother her again. Someone in the hospital had contacted her through her publisher to tell Liz that her mother was sick. Before she could finalize her travel arrangements, she'd received another call saying her mother had died. At that point, returning to Fool's Gold for the funeral had seemed pointless. Now she knew that Roy had been there.

“Relationships are complicated,” she murmured, not sure what she should have done differently. There was no real sense of loss, just an absence of connection, and sadness. Roy was her brother—they should have been a family, but they weren't. They were only relatives.

“I came to see you because of your girls,” Liz informed him. “Melissa e-mailed me a few days ago.” She hesitated. “I'm sorry, Roy, but Bettina is gone.”

He turned away. “I wondered,” he muttered, returning his attention to her, looking more resigned than
surprised. “I haven't heard from her in a while. She took the girls with her?”

“Um, not exactly. Bettina took off a couple months ago. Melissa and Abby have been on their own ever since.”

The color drained from his tired, wrinkled face. “That bitch. She never said a word. Are they all right?”

“They're fine. Melissa's been taking care of both of them. When it got to be too much for her, she found me through my Web site. I came right away. Some arrangements have to be made….”

Roy rose and crossed to the window. He stood there, his shoulders bent. “I got no one, Lizzy. Those girls? They're all I have. Can you take 'em?”

She wanted to say no. She barely knew her nieces and looking after them for a few days was very different than taking responsibility permanently. But even as she tried to refuse, she knew she couldn't. If the girls didn't stay with her, they would go into foster care, probably be separated. Who knew what would happen to them.

“I'll sign whatever papers you want,” he added quickly. “To make it easy on you.”

“Of course I'll take them,” she replied, smiling when he turned to face her. “But I can't stay in Fool's Gold. My life is in San Francisco, as is Tyler's.”

“He your husband?”

“My son. He's eleven.”

Roy grinned. “You got a boy? I didn't know.”

Their mother had known, but obviously she hadn't
felt the need to pass on the information. “He's great.” She pulled a picture out of her purse and carried it over to Roy.

Her brother stared at the photo. “He's a good-looking kid.”

“I think so.”

He swallowed. “Maybe San Francisco would be better for my girls. A chance to start over where no one knows about me. I tried to settle in town, but it didn't go well. People couldn't get past the family name, you know? You could sell the house and put the money away for them. For college or a wedding or something.”

She thought about the battered old structure that was as tired-looking as Roy. “It would need some work,” she began.

“Not much. I got most of the projects started.”

“I noticed that.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I'm not one for finishing.” The smile faded. “I need you to take care of my girls, Lizzy.”

Perhaps it had always been inevitable that things would end up this way, she thought. “They'll be safe with me.”

“I know they will. You've gone and gotten all fancy, with your books and everything. They'll like that.”

“They'd like to see you.”

“No. Not here. I don't want them thinking of me here.”

“You're their father. They need to know you're all right.”

He sucked in a breath. “Visiting day is bad, Lizzy. Everybody crying. There's no being together.”

“Their stepmother abandoned them, they don't know me at all. You're the one person in their life they know loves them.”

“Fine. But give me a couple of weeks. I'll write 'em and let 'em know I'm thinking about 'em.”

“Sure. I'll be in Fool's Gold a bit longer.” Figuring out what to do with the house would take some time. She had a feeling that neither girl would be especially excited about the thought of moving. Melissa had certainly been clear about that already.

“Thanks, Lizzy,” Roy said, hugging her.

She held on, trying to reconcile the man she hung on to with the brother she had adored. But it was impossible. Too much time, she thought sadly. Too many miles.

“I'll be in touch,” she promised and walked toward the door that would lead to the outside world, while Roy stepped through the one that took him back to prison.

 

“S
O IT'S A CAMP
?” T
YLER ASKED
. “Mom sends me to a day camp in the summer. I went overnight a couple of times, up in the mountains.”

Ethan glanced at his son, then returned his attention to the road. “This is both,” he explained. “Kids come from all over and they stay for a couple weeks. Local kids can come up daily, if they want. There's a bus that takes them.”

Liz had dropped off Tyler about an hour ago,
hovering by the front door until the kid had reached Ethan's office. As if she was avoiding him. Who was he kidding—of course she was avoiding him. Why wouldn't she?

Ethan had planned for Tyler to stay in his office for the morning, maybe head over to the turbine manufacturing facility. But Raoul had called and asked to meet him at the camp and Ethan had figured that was as good a way to spend a morning as any. Maybe going to the camp would be a better distraction. He needed something to stop him from thinking about what he and Liz had done the previous night.

Ethan hadn't meant for anything to happen. It had been so far off his radar, he hadn't even thought about coming up with a plan to avoid having sex with Liz. He'd been so damned angry—he still was.

Although he had to admit seeing the letter had shifted things. And being alone with Liz had been better than he'd remembered. She'd always been beautiful and smart and funny. Now she was those things plus she had a maturity that appealed to him. He'd wanted her years ago and he still wanted her, even though being with her meant nothing but trouble.

He turned off the main highway, onto a private road marked by a red sign pointing to “End Zone for Kids.”

“The guy who started the camp used to play football,” Ethan said. “Raoul Moreno. He was a quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys.”

Tyler looked at him, his eyes wide. “I know who
he is. Does he ever come to the camp? Do you think I can meet him?”

“Remember I told you I had a meeting with a guy? He's that guy.”

“Sweet!” Tyler bounced in his seat. “That's so awesome. I can't wait to tell my friends.”

“I'll take a picture with my cell,” Ethan told him. “You can e-mail it to them.”

“All right!” Tyler stared out of the front of the truck. “Are we there yet?”

Ethan laughed, then turned into the mostly empty parking lot. The camp would officially open on Saturday when the first inner-city kids arrived. The day camp for locals began on Monday.

Initially, Ethan had wondered at the wisdom of mixing the overnighters with kids from town. His sister Dakota who ran the camp for Raoul, had explained that it was a good learning experience for both groups. Usually small-town kids and inner-city kids had almost no contact, except possibly during regional and statewide play-offs. Getting them involved with each other now meant expanding their world view before they made up their minds about what the world was like.

Ethan parked between a Ferrari and his sister's beat-up Jeep. Tyler was out of the truck before the engine was off, jumping impatiently as he waited for Ethan.

“Is that his car? It's really cool. I like the color.”

They walked into the main building, where there
was a big living area and the dining room. The offices were in back.

As they made their way down the hall, Ethan studied the walls, the fit of the windows and looked for anything that needed touch-ups before the camp opened. He'd already walked the property with the job foreman, creating a punch list of things that needed to be finished. From what he could tell, it was all done.

Raoul's office door stood open. Ethan walked in and found the other man sitting on the corner of his desk, rather than behind it. Josh Golden was there, too. They both looked up when he and Tyler entered.

“Hey, Ethan,” Raoul greeted, standing and holding out his hand. “Thanks for making the drive.”

“No problem.”

The two men shook hands. Ethan turned to Josh and did the same, then put his hands on Tyler's thin shoulders.

“This is Tyler,” he introduced, pausing before adding, “my son.”

Raoul greeted the boy, while Josh looked as stunned as a cartoon character going off a cliff.

“Your son?” Josh repeated. He mouthed “Who?” over Tyler's head.

“His mom is Liz Sutton.”

Tyler shook hands with both men, then stared adoringly between Raoul and Josh. “You're both really famous.”

“I'm better looking,” Josh said easily. “And smarter. Raoul's kind of homely.”

Raoul grinned. “I could snap you like a twig. If it wouldn't make a mess, I'd do it right now.”

Tyler stood as if mesmerized by the thrill of the moment.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked Josh.

“Talking to Raoul about a pro-am golf tournament. Pia's been on my ass about it.” Josh hesitated, glanced at Tyler, then cleared his throat. “I mean butt. She's been on my butt about getting him to sign up. She seems to think people will care that we have some ex-quarterback playing. I think they'll find it boring.”

“He's threatened,” Raoul said, settling back on the corner of the desk.