Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (19 page)

Wrong?
He examined the concept. Finding out his father had been dead all this time, had been murdered, wouldn't alter Noah's life in any meaningful way. The dead part was no surprise. People didn't usually disappear as thoroughly as Brian Chandler had unless they had died. Even so... The pressure inside his chest was still increasing. Sooner or later it would boil over. It had to.

Yeah, he guessed it was fair to say something was wrong.

“I don't know yet,” he said. “Will you spend the evening with me?”

He didn't think he could stand it if she made a jab implying all he wanted was sex.

Sex—well, that might be one way to release this near-unbearable force building inside him, but it wasn't what he wanted most. Right now, he would have given anything to hold her. Take her weight against his and let her bear some of his. With employees, not to mention a city councilman, right on the other side of the door, that wasn't possible here and now, but he thought he could hold on if only he knew she would leave with him at five o'clock.

She smiled at him, though it wavered a little. “I'd love to, Noah. I was going to call you and...and say I'm sorry for reacting the way I did the last time you asked me. Maybe the stress is getting to me.”

“I don't see how it can help but be.”

“Let me know when you want to go.”

He nodded and reached without looking for the door handle. “George is out there,” he warned.

Her eyes widened. “George Miller?” She whispered even though it wasn't necessary.

“None other.”

“Oh, Lord.” She kept her voice hushed. “He's not happy. I'm starting to wonder if Phil wasn't the only one who had a little arrangement with someone in the department. George is acting shocked to be asked to complete more steps in an application, as if he'd never had to hire water or septic or traffic engineers before and considers them a waste of money. His latest project is...well, maybe not ill-conceived, but not carefully conceived, either. I know Earl rubs you the wrong way, but at least he dots his
i'
s and crosses his
t'
s.”

One side of his mouth lifted in the first glimmer of humor he'd felt all day. No, in longer than that. Since he'd scared Cait with his display of temper.

“Then I'll never complain about Earl again,” he swore.

She laughed. “Do you have your fingers crossed behind your back? Grumble all you want. I just thought you ought to know he has his virtues.”

“Understood.” He braced himself and opened the door. Carrying the image of Cait's laughing face, he was able to nod at the councilman who was a perpetual thorn in his side. His “What can I do for you, George?” almost sounded as if he wanted to be helpful.

Fifteen minutes later, he managed to extract himself.

Once again, he went for the stairs, mostly to avoid anyone he didn't absolutely have to talk to. He was alone in the stairwell when his phone rang. He took it from his belt and his heart kicked at the name displayed.

“Yeah?” he said hoarsely.

* * *

N
OAH
CAME
BY
for her at five-thirty. She was shocked at the sight of his face. Lines she'd never noticed before seemed etched into his forehead. The ones between his nose and mouth had deepened. His mouth was compressed into a hard line.

She rose to her feet without a second thought. “Noah?”

“You mind Chandler's again?” he asked as if tonight was any other night. “I'm not much in the mood for cooking.”

“Of course not,” she said. “But if you'd rather, I wouldn't mind making dinner.”

He hesitated, then grimaced. “I don't remember the last time I grocery shopped and I can't say I want to do it right now.”

They walked again, and she reveled in the chance to be out on a warm evening even as she watched faces and passing vehicles and kept sneaking looks to see who was coming up behind them. Cait was learning that, as afraid as she'd become of Blake, that was nothing compared to the ever-present memory of the silver SUV, the window rolled down, the shadow of movement.
Pop.
The sound of glass crumbling. Her own harsh breathing and dry, stifled sobs. The grit under her knees and hands.

Even in her office at city hall and her bedroom at Colin's, she didn't feel completely safe. Each knock on the door had her freezing; in bed she kept thinking she heard a scuffing sound outside or a tap on the window glass.

She noticed that Noah stayed on the curbside as they walked, and that he didn't let anybody get close to her. He'd pull her to his side and use his big body to block passersby. Like hers, his gaze roved nonstop. His expression was flat and hard. Neither of them talked until they were tucked away in the familiar booth at Chandler's in the back. She'd begun to wonder if it was saved for him, like his parking spot at city hall.

She looked across the table at him. “Now something is wrong.”

“Let's order.”

Searching his face, she nodded.

Even she knew the menu well enough now not to need to look at it, so they were able to make their choices quickly. While they waited for their drinks, she asked how it had gone with George Miller.

“I walked him to the elevator, nodded a lot and said, ‘I'll be sure to look into that, George' half a dozen times.”

Cait smiled even though she was too anxious to feel real amusement. “All lies.”

“Every word.”

The waitress smilingly delivered drinks. The moment she walked away, Cait reached across the table for his hand. It turned and gripped hers hard.

“Will you tell me?” she asked.

“The man you saw buried? He was my father, Cait.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?” she finally managed.

“You heard me.” Blue eyes that could be so sharp and clear were opaque. Only the strength of his grip betrayed his turmoil.

“But...how do you know?” That might not be the most important question, but she had to start somewhere.

He told her about the damage his father had suffered in a motorcycle accident, and the medical examiner's puzzlement at the extent of the dental work the dead man had had. “The minute I heard that...” His jaws flexed and the first hint of pain showed. “He dealt drugs. My father. Mom divorced him when he was doing a stint in prison. He didn't start like that, but he somehow got addicted to opioids.”

“Maybe it was after the accident,” Cait suggested tentatively. “If he was in pain for long—”

“I don't know. Mom didn't talk about it much. I guess he went through treatment a few times. He must have tried, for our sake. I never saw his problems, but I wasn't very old, either. I think my mother got so she hated him. He wasn't very reliable, but I loved him anyway. I didn't want to believe all the things she said about him. The last time I heard from him, he'd promised to take me to a baseball game, but he called something like an hour before we were supposed to leave and canceled. He'd make it up, he promised. I said something like, ‘Yeah, sure,' and hung up on him. I never talked to him again. A few weeks after that, my mother told me he'd moved. Later I realized he probably had called and she wouldn't let him talk to me. He might have kept calling. I don't know.” He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to loosen taut muscles, or maybe to wipe away any expression that would reveal emotions he wasn't willing to display. “I guess I understand why she'd think that was best. A couple of times I heard her and my stepfather talking, so I knew Dad sent money occasionally. Not reliably, of course.” What was probably meant to be bitterness sounded more like grief. “He'd quit being reliable years before.”

Cait squeezed his hand in a gentle warning. “Our salads are coming.”

He nodded and let her go. Except for the harsh lines in his face, he looked much as usual as he thanked the waitress.

“You know all your employees?” Cait asked.

He shook out his napkin. “I used to. These days, I still try, but I don't get up to Bend or Sisters more than every couple of weeks. I have good managers and I watch the bottom line.”

She bit her lip. “So you think your father was involved in drug trafficking here in Angel Butte.”

“That's a logical assumption,” he said flatly. “Probably small-time. According to Mom, he always talked about making enough money to start over somewhere. He wanted me to be proud of him, he said. I guess I'd like to think he wasn't ruthless enough to climb the ladder.”

“You know for sure this was him?”

“Your brother called this afternoon. They were able to compare dental records.”

“I'm so sorry,” she said, wanting to touch him again but sensing he needed to stay aloof, at least while they were in public.

He nodded acknowledgment. “Why don't we eat? I didn't get any lunch.”

They found things to talk about; they always did. They steered away from the subject of family, of the current mysteries that preoccupied the police department, even of city government. He told her he was working on one of the front bedrooms.

“Every time I strip molding, the whole house stinks for days,” he grumbled.

She almost asked if it was the child's bedroom he was working on, but she refrained. Besides, if a family bought that house, at least a couple of the bedrooms would be for the children.

She mentioned a book she was in the middle of, and it turned out he'd read it and took pleasure in countering every argument the author had made. Arguing actually seemed to relax him, so she let herself enjoy it, too.

Not until they had finished dinner, walked back to city hall and were making the short drive to his house did she ask tentatively about his mother.

“Will you let her know?”

The car's dark interior didn't allow her to read his expression. “I suppose,” he said after a minute. “I don't know that she'll care one way or another, but I could be wrong.”

“She remarried? You said you have a stepfather?”

“Yeah, I think I was seven when she got married again. They've stuck it out, so I guess they're happy enough.”

“I take it you're not crazy about him.”

“No. We never had much of a relationship. He left the parenting to her.”

“I see.”

He angled a glance at her. “What about your mother? You haven't mentioned a stepfather.”

“No. I'm not really sure why she never remarried. She's still an attractive woman. She did date, but I don't remember anyone being around long enough for me to think it was serious.”

She heard what Colin had said.
What if she thought she'd found a great guy? Planned to leave Dad for him? And then it turns out he's a crook. She's O and two.
Had Mom lost her ability to trust? Any desire even to try?

Would that happen to her eventually, too?

“I called my mother,” Cait said. “I hadn't told her yet I was back in Angel Butte.”

He turned into his driveway and braked. “How'd she take it?”

“She was horrified. ‘You know what we escaped,' she said.”

“But your father is long dead.” Noah sounded thoughtful.

“Which leaves me wondering if it was really Dad she was running from. I mentioned seeing Jerry, and I could tell that shocked her, too, and then I capped a fun conversation by telling her he'd been murdered and asking if she'd had any idea back then that he might be into something illegal.”

He chuckled and slid his hand around her nape, gently squeezing. “Went for broke, did you?”

Cait found herself smiling ruefully even as she turned her head to rub her cheek against the inside of his wrist. “There's a whole lot I
didn't
tell her. That when I was ten I saw her lover bury a body in the backyard of his rental house. And the biggie, that someone is trying to kill me.”

“She's your mother,” he said in a deep, tender voice. “You don't think she'd want to know?”

“It would confirm all her worst fears about Angel Butte. She'd want
me
to run.”

“Sometimes I think you should, too.” He kept up the massage that made her want to groan with pleasure. “But what if he follows you?”

“Like Blake did.”

“Yeah. Here you have Colin and, because of him, the whole police department.” There was an infinitesimal pause. “And me.”

Cait leaned over to nestle her head against his brawny chest. “I am...so glad I have you.”

Right this minute, she would rejoice in that and not wish for more.

His hand left her neck to unclick her seat belt. “Let's go in,” he said, voice hoarse.

Suddenly, they were both in a hurry.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

N
OAH
STARED
AT
the ceiling. “I didn't mean to do that.”

Curled against him, Cait stirred. “You mean make love to me?”

“Yeah. I didn't want you to think—”

“That's the only reason you had me over?”

He sighed, and her head rode the movement of his chest. “Yeah.”

“You fed me first.”

“Even
I'm
getting tired of Chandler's.”

Her laugh made his skin shiver. “About time, there, guy. Maybe we should explore the culinary possibilities of Angel Butte.”

“Like Newberry Inn.”

Cait rose on one elbow to look down at him. Her nose looked cute scrunched up. “Nell's friend Hailey owns this place—”

“Kingfisher Café. I had lunch there the other day. While I ate, I gave thought to hiring her away, but right now she's too successful to be bought.” He smiled. “She came out to look me over.”

“Because you're the competition?”

He snorted. “I think she was warning me not to hurt you. Said Nell's her best friend and she's getting to be friends with you, too.”

“Well.” She blinked in surprise. “That's really sweet.”

He cupped her cheek. “She bakes damn good sweets.”

“Yes, she does.” Cait sat up all the way so she could really see him. “I hate knowing that was your father.”

Noah laid his forearm across his face. The habit of self-defense was hard to break. “I hate it, too,” he said gruffly.

“Did you...suspect he was dead?” she asked, soft and tentative.

He let out a long breath, made himself lift his arm and curve it around her. “Yeah. Once I was making some money, I went so far as to hire a P.I. He came up with zip. Disappearing so completely—it's not easy to do.”

“Nell did it.”

“Yeah.” He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “And she was only fifteen.”

“She said in a way that made it easier. She wasn't really on the radar yet, you know? Didn't have to worry about a job history or references or anything like that. She says, looking back, that the miracle is that no one recognized her given that her face was in all the newspapers every day for a while.”

“She's a gutsy woman, your sister-in-law.”

A shadow crossed Cait's face, one he didn't understand. “I know she is.”

“Your brother must be feeling cursed. What are the odds you and she would both end up in danger?”

She made a face at that. “We'd have both been safer if we'd never come back to this town.”

His heart gave a quick, hard squeeze. He discovered how much he disliked the idea of never having met Cait McAllister.

Those soft gray eyes were looking deep into his. “Will you have a funeral?” she asked.

She was determined to talk about his father, when he didn't have a clue what he felt. He'd needed to be with her, but not so he'd have to admit to unwelcome emotions.

Or was he lying to himself?

“And who would I invite?” He shook his head. “Once they're done with his bones, I'll have them buried.”

“I'd come.”

He tugged her down for a kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured against her lips.

“Do you have pictures of him?”

“What you mean is, do I look like him?” That came out harsh enough to have her drawing back, her expression hurt. He held on to her hand so she couldn't scramble off the bed. “Yes. He was a big, ugly son of a bitch, just like me.”

Her face softened. “You're the sexiest man I've ever met, and I can't possibly be the first woman to tell you that.”

He smiled, although inside he was a mass of all those emotions he didn't understand. “Maybe.”

“He must have appealed to your mother.”

Noah heard himself make a sound that had Cait's gaze sharpening.

Your ex must've been an even uglier son of a bitch than he looks in pictures, if the kid is anything to go by.

Why had he let himself be haunted by something so meaningless?

“I heard my mother and stepfather talking about it once. He said I must have taken after my father, as ugly as I was.”

“What?”
Cait's outrage warmed him.

“My mother admitted it bothered her, how much I looked like my dad. She said—” God, he'd never told anyone this, but still he stumbled on. “That there wasn't a single good thing I could have inherited from Dad.”

Pure fury blazed in Cait's eyes. “That's horrible! How could she?”

Her anger relaxed something in him. “She had reason to be bitter.”

“So what?” Her chin had never looked so square or pugnacious. He especially loved the effect when she was naked. “She wouldn't have loved him if he hadn't had good qualities. Addiction is...it's a disease! What if he'd had cancer and gotten weak and whiny?”

“Addiction involves choices,” Noah felt obligated to point out, however much he appreciated her fiery defense.

“Sure. So do diabetes and lung cancer for a smoker and a lot of other diseases.”

He started to laugh. “You're right. No, don't punch me.” He grabbed her fist. “Settle down.”

Cait made a disgusted sound but subsided. “She's your mother. I should keep my mouth shut.”

“I'm glad you didn't.” That came out hoarse.
Shit,
he thought. She was punching holes in every defense he had. Suddenly, he felt naked, and not because he was sprawled in bed not wearing any clothes.

She stroked his chest, her hand slender and fine-boned. “You must have loved him.”

“I guess I did,” Noah said slowly. “At least—” No, he refused to sound pathetic.

But Cait only waited. He looked for pity on her face and saw compassion.

Oh, hell.
“I wanted to believe he was worth loving. That he loved me. My mother was decent to me, don't get me wrong, but I was never sure she loved me. I think she was telling Dennis the truth. It did bother her that I took more after Dad than her.”

“I can't imagine.” Her eyes showed disbelief.

“What if you'd had a kid with Ralston? Now you know what a crazy he is. What if the kid looked just like him? Wouldn't you find yourself wondering?”

“You're justifying her behavior?”

“Understanding.”

She made another of those disdainful sounds. “Kids take after both their parents. Looks are the least important part of what they get from us. Not only would my child be
mine,
but I'd make sure he knew how many great qualities he got from his father.”

“Yeah.” He touched her lips, feeling them quiver beneath the pads of his fingers. “That's what I'd do, too. If...” He had to clear his throat. “If I ever have kids.”

She gave a laugh that sounded more sad than funny. “I don't know what makes me think I'm qualified to carry on like this. Mom...well, she did love me. Does,” she corrected herself. “But I never forgot that she left Colin behind and just, I don't know, pretended he didn't exist after that. That couldn't help but make me wonder how much I could depend on her love. You know? And Dad...” Her shoulders moved. “I don't have much in the way of good memories of him. Maybe if you don't learn from your own parents, there's no hope.”

Why that should piss him off when he'd made the same argument in relation to himself, Noah couldn't have said. All he knew was that it did.

“That's bull! You're smart and sweet. You make me laugh. The way you just fired up tells me you'd be every bit as feisty in defense of your kid.”

She sat back and contemplated him. “You mean, I shouldn't let my parents' failings stop me from having a full life.”

Did she look smug? His eyes narrowed. “Did you just set me up?”

“Maybe.” She smiled at him. “All I can say is—ditto.”

“Message received.” Although nobody would call him sweet. He had a bad feeling that as a parent he'd be as impatient and dictatorial as he was with his staff. And as incapable as he was of making emotional connections, what if he distanced himself from his own kids?

And why in hell was he thinking about this at all?

Because of Cait, of course.

Hiding his perturbation, he lifted his hands to her breasts, which nicely filled his palms. She looked down, watching as he played. He splayed his fingers enough to let her nipples peek out, then rubbed them between those fingers.

“Pretty,” he said thickly.

She swallowed. “We were talking.”

“Now we're done.” He was afraid to think what would come out of his mouth if they kept talking. He didn't like needing her the way he had today. Needing her body, he was okay with that.

There were better things than talking he could do with his mouth.

He reared up and captured one of those pretty breasts in his mouth and sucked until she arched and moaned.

* * *

E
VERY
STEP
FORWARD
with Noah was followed by two back.

No surprise, he spent the next couple of days dodging her.

Friday night, she retreated to her bedroom when Colin and Nell did. The main living space felt too exposed when she was alone out there. The house had entire walls of windows, many of which didn't even have blinds. At least in the guest bedroom she knew no one could look in.

The room did have a comfortable upholstered chair and reading lamp. Feet drawn up beneath her, she sat with a book on her lap that she hadn't bothered opening. Instead she thought about Noah.

Oh, why had she said so much? Cait mourned her stupidity. Noah might deny taking her home only because he wanted sex, but she knew that's essentially what he'd done.

So, okay, he'd said enough to surprise her, but only because she'd pushed.
And why not be honest?
she thought. The fact that she
had
pushed was a bad sign. Even he must realize she was really asking for more from him. More intimacy. More trust. A real relationship. The kind of sharing a couple allowed themselves to do. And he had never said a single thing to make her think he was interested in being half of a couple.

If he did, he would never have suggested they keep their affair furtive the way he had.

Face it. He wanted sex. Full stop.

Maybe she was more of an optimist than she'd believed, because an argumentative voice in her pointed out that he hadn't been all that sneaky, nothing like she'd expected. People were noticing how often he stopped by her office and that he usually closed the door so they were alone together. And that he took her out to lunch and dinner. Everyone at city hall must have seen them leaving together at one time or another.

Instead of reassuring her, that thought filled her with dread. If the gossip reached the city council, she didn't know what would happen. She could lose her job. Or he could lose his. As her boss, he might be seen as having stepped over a line, made her feel as if she
couldn't
refuse him.

He'd never forgive her if he ended up embroiled in a scandal because of her.

God, that's probably why he was doing the disappearing thing again. Or maybe only because he hated having opened up to her as much as he had.

Or—here was another possibility—because he'd said,
You have me.
He might be making sure she didn't read too much into that.

Whatever it was, she wouldn't beg. Maybe this would be a good time for them to end their relationship, such as it was.

Sex. That's what it is.

She'd known all along he was the absolute wrong personality for her. Predicting what would happen if they did get serious was all too easy. He'd issue orders and be scathing if she tried to stand up for herself. Noah wouldn't be able to help squelching her, and she wouldn't be able to help submitting, and then she would hate him and herself both while he'd end up feeling nothing but contempt for her.

She heard again the admiration in his voice when he described Nell as gutsy.

And then there's me.

Maybe the time would come when she could have faith in herself again, but right now was too soon. Yes, it had felt good to stand up to Blake. To have him cowering at her feet. She wanted to think she'd never again find excuses for a man who'd hit her. But that was only a small part of the ways she'd allowed Blake to diminish her. Somehow she'd conceded almost all the decisions to him, from how she wore her hair to whether she could go out with friends. Remembering made her shudder.

She hadn't been able to figure out how she could have let anything like that happen to her, not after having seen her mother's example, but since coming back to Angel Butte she had begun to understand that it had worked the other way around.

Oh, she'd learned from her mother's example, all right—to do exactly what Mommy did. When Daddy bellowed, you kept your head down and never, never argued because that only enraged him further. When he got mad, you shrank into corners. When he threw his fists, you endured and pretended to everyone outside the family that nothing had happened.

Maybe lessons learned when you were so young couldn't be unlearned, she thought bleakly. Maybe with Blake she'd been replicating the only kind of family she'd ever known. What other explanation was there?

Of course, Noah wasn't like Blake. He was bossy and impatient and a lot of other things, but it was hard for her to imagine him ever striking a woman.

I thought the same about Blake.

Yes, but Noah barely even raised his voice. He had too much confidence to need to yell at anyone.

Forehead puckering, Cait laid her book aside.

She hadn't been with Blake all that long when she'd realized he
wasn't
very confident. He'd hated having any of his decisions questioned. Or even his opinion, really. She hadn't noticed that at first because they agreed on a lot of the bigger issues. He couldn't stand to be embarrassed. He'd been in a quiet fury for days after being pulled over by a cop for making a rolling right turn at a red light. The officer made him get out of the car and take a breathalyzer test. Blake was humiliated because passing motorists saw him. Afterward, he'd gone on and on. The cop had to be blind. Of course he'd stopped. Probably the cop wanted to fill some quota.