HotText (9 page)

For years her ability to rise above her surroundings had
kept her whole. Now those same feelings she’d repressed would help her find her
way back to who she would be.

Karyn wet her lips and lifted her head to meet Lon’s gaze.
He’d taken off his sunglasses and what she saw in his eyes wasn’t boredom.
Maybe, just maybe, part of him still cared about her.

Time to find out.

“Lon.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “I want the house.”

Chapter Six

Jeff didn’t avail himself of her shower before he finished
getting dressed. No need. He had hot water at home. Better yet, his apartment
didn’t hold any ghosts of lovers past—his own or someone else’s. Or worse,
current ghosts that were now downstairs probably exuding their slimy ether all
over the woman
he’d
spent the night with.

He glanced at the messy bed and rubbed the heel of his hand
against his shoulder, trying to dispel the urge to stay. To talk to her once
more.

Walk away.

It was, after all, something he had a lot of practice at.
He’d done it twice before, and those women had shared his last name. This
wasn’t nearly as traumatizing. One night didn’t mean—

Bullshit. All bullshit. If he waded any deeper he’d be in up
to his elbows. One night meant a lot. Especially since he’d come into this with
no expectations, only a desire to protect his sister, and he’d happened upon
someone so vital he couldn’t imagine not seeing her face or hearing her
laughter again.

It had been the longest, most important
one night
of
his life.

He buttoned up his shirt and put on his socks and boots but
still he didn’t go downstairs. He’d give them the time they needed. A smart guy
didn’t get involved in messy marital mishaps in the first place. Too late for
that. The least he could do was to resist going all macho by demanding Karyn
fawn over him instead of her husband.

Her goddamn
husband
.

He’d come close though. Real close. When she’d labeled him a
friend and that cool expression had overtaken her face, replacing the passion
she’d exhibited so freely all night long, he’d forced himself to take a giant
step back. She wasn’t his problem. She was just a woman he’d slept with.

Right.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he stood. Only when
he realized exactly how overeager that made him seem did he manage to sit his
ass back down and wait.

Karyn entered the bedroom with halting steps, as if she
expected him to be spoiling for a fight. Though she didn’t lurk in the doorway,
she kept a healthy amount of space between them, more than there had been at
any point yesterday. Including at the coffee shop when they’d been total
strangers.

Figured that now she wanted her distance.

“You’re still here,” she said, slipping her hands into the
pockets of her robe.

“I’ve outgrown climbing out of bedroom windows with my pants
around my ankles.”

“Too bad. I think the neighbors could use some shaking up.”

The absolute rawness of her voice weakened the resistance
he’d built up inside him. Thought he’d built up, anyway. To keep from hauling
her into his arms, he studied her. The resolute set of her chin, the shadows
under her haunted eyes, the ramrod posture she maintained as if she’d shatter
unless she held herself perfectly straight.

She was so much stronger than most of the women—hell, most
of the people, period—he’d known. The tears that sheened her eyes didn’t
diminish his opinion. Far from it. He wanted to congratulate her.

Finally.

Finally she’d opened the window to the feelings she’d tamped
down for so long. During their long conversation last night, they’d covered
plenty of ground. She’d said over and over she didn’t cry. Declared it,
actually, as if it were a badge of honor. Weeping wasn’t therapeutic, merely
draining. She didn’t need to sob over things she couldn’t change. What good
would it do?

Yet here she stood, lips trembling, looking so valiant he
wondered why he’d never seen tears as irrefutable evidence of strength before.

She wasn’t running away from anything. She was facing it
head-on. Not burying herself in work or other people’s lives. Just living in
the moment and dealing with whatever came.

He fisted his hands on his hips and waited for his heartbeat
to level. When it didn’t, he gave in.
Fuck it.
“I don’t want you to go
back to your husband.”

“Not even for your sister,” she said, her tone hollow.

“No. She needs to make her own choices. I’m past trying to
fight Daisy’s battles. Guess I just needed that reminder.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Jeff held her gaze. “Just because you’re so fucking strong
you make my teeth ache, don’t expect to get the same from me.”

He didn’t expect a smile. “Strong? I’m trying to let myself
be weak. To not deny I feel—” She stopped, shook her head. “Just that I feel.”

“Feeling can be pretty damn tough.”

She came over to sit beside him on the bed, her terry
cloth-covered thigh bumping his. “Yes, it can.”

The silence grew between them. Painful, aching. Full of way
too much, considering twenty-four hours ago he’d barely been aware of her
existence.

She reached over and took his hand, lacing their fingers
together. Whether the gesture showed solidarity or was simply her way of saying
goodbye, he didn’t know.

“You’re too good for him.”

He didn’t look at her. Not when their linked hands were so
fascinating. Not when he knew he’d never be able to speak if he looked into the
face of all that strength and smacked head-on into his own lack.

“I don’t think I’m as good as I thought. But I appreciate
you being…” Her fingers twitched in his. “A friend. I haven’t had one of those
in a while.”

“This isn’t about being friendly, dammit,” he said in an
undertone, but only because he didn’t want to yell and scare her shitless. “I
want to be your lover. I want more nights like the one we just had, and I want
to know you don’t see me as some fucking fallen angel whose only mission is to
heal your broken sex life.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Jeff. Don’t hold back.”

He lifted his head, gaze seeking hers. That she seemed on
the verge of a smile irritated him more. “I want you. Just you. Just me. No
ghosts, nobody between us.”

She didn’t flinch from the words or his stare. Instead she
extricated her fingers from his suddenly bruising grip and scraped the hair
back from his face. “I need…”

Here it came. The mother of all brush-offs. Maybe Lon had
changed his mind, decided to try for round two of his marriage.

At least Daisy would be off the hook. At least he’d have his
memories of last night.

Screw
at least
. Was he supposed to just step back and
say no harm, no foul? She’d been married ten years. He’d had less than ten
hours with her. A decent man wouldn’t force her to make choices she wasn’t
ready to make.

Wasn’t that part of what being strong meant? Putting his own
needs aside for someone else, just because it was the right thing to do? No
matter how it hurt.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he reached up to clasp her
hand, intending to rip it away from his face. Before he could, she hurtled
toward him and locked her arms around his neck, fusing their mouths together.
Heat and urgency streamed from her vibrating body and into his, erasing any
memories but those they’d made.

She kissed him so deeply his mind shuddered to a halt.
Wasn’t he supposed to take control? He couldn’t. How could he control this?
She’d become a one-woman wrecking ball against his determination to shut her
out. He didn’t want complications but here she was, her lips on fire, melting
his last resolve.

Stripping him bare before she left him alone.

She twirled her tongue around his and sucked as if her next
breath depended on it, bringing him along with her on her madcap ride. Today
she tasted like wild honey, dark and sweet. Need battered his system,
intensifying as she slid her sexy curves against his body. But she didn’t stop.
She just kept dragging him deeper.

When she drew back, her eyes remained closed, almost as if
she wasn’t ready to open them to reality yet. He couldn’t look away. He fought
for his breath and his composure, finally giving both up as lost.

As many times as he’d said goodbye, this would hurt the
most. Not because he knew her well but because he didn’t. He would never get a
chance to see if they were incompatible. He’d never get to learn all her
annoying habits. Her off-key singing in the shower or her heavy snores would never
keep him from sleep. Her laughter and kisses wouldn’t be there to greet him
when he woke.

Hard to miss what he’d never had but he did. Oh fuck, he
did.

She traced her fingertips over his chest, seeking his
heartbeat. Making it race just from her light touch. “What’s your middle name,
Jeff?”

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. When did she ever
deliver that? “I don’t have one.”

Karyn tipped back her head and opened her eyes. “No?”

“No. My parents said they didn’t believe in them, though
they gave Daisy the middle name Rose. She always said her name fit a hard-luck
chick destined for the county lockup.”

“Or a country singer,” she mused, causing him to laugh. As
usual.

“She’d rather go to jail. Daze hates country.”

“What about you?”

“Not really a fan,” he admitted, fisting his hand against
her back to keep from stroking her cheek.

“Too bad. I think we’d make a good country song.”

Silence grew between them again until the room seemed to
pulse with all that was unsaid. “Will you just get it over with?” he asked
finally.

“What?”

“Karyn, you’re married.”

“Yeah.” She pulled herself up and out of his arms, denying
him even her warmth. “I am. And until I’m not, I shouldn’t—we can’t—”

“It’s over,” he said, cutting to the chase. “As quick as it
started, it’s over. I’m okay with that.”

She folded her arms and angled her chin. “Are you? Because
I’m not.”

He shrugged. His chest felt as if someone had raked him
inside out with a backhoe, but sure, he was okay. Just dandy. “Timing’s off. It
happens.”

Karyn clutched his hand. Only then did he realize she’d
removed her wedding ring, the solitary item of gold in a sea of silver. That
bare finger spoke volumes, inspiring hope.

He couldn’t hope.

“Tell me you’ll give me time.”

There it was, the rope he’d wished she would toss his way.
Somehow grabbing hold of it seemed like only a new way to delude himself. “Why
don’t you take care of what you need to, then we’ll see?”

“So this is it then. Just…goodbye.”

He made himself stare into her dark eyes, allowed himself to
drown a little. “You know my number. If you ever decide you’re ready, use it.”
When her eyes began to film, he drew back and rose. “Take care of yourself,
Karyn Collette Allison.”

Not James. Not any longer.

She smiled through her tears, the sun coming out during a
rainstorm. “You too, Jeffrey No Name Maddox.”

He started to say more. The words were right there. For
once, he didn’t have to search for how to phrase things. But he wouldn’t do
that to her. If last night had taught him anything, it was the value of
allowing a person to become who they needed to be, on their own timetable.

Letting them make their own choices, and live their own damn
life.

He walked out before he could ask for things she couldn’t
give and he had no right to want.

Chapter Seven

One year later

Cold wine, warm wind, the sun on the verge of setting in a
fiery blaze of orange and pink. What more did a man need?

Jeff exhaled as he surveyed the slowly darkening sky. He
loved fall, especially when it actually lasted for a few weeks before winter
kicked down its rickety door. In Cedar Hollow, that was never a certainty.

They’d been lucky so far. October had been absolutely
gorgeous with sunny, crisp days that hinted at long nights curled under thick
duvets while fires crackled in the hearth.

He didn’t have a duvet or a hearth. But he sure as hell had
the long nights and he recorded every nuance of the cold. It had settled inside
him, remaining even in the face of the most persistent sunshine. As much as he
loved the fall, no towering pile of colorful leaves or wisp of wood smoke in
the air could chip it away.

October ninth. Almost a year since he’d done something
completely crazy. Nosing into Daisy’s business had been one thing. But going so
far as to grab his sister’s boyfriend’s phone and texting his wife—estranged or
not, she was the man’s
wife
—then meeting with her, talking to her,
sleeping with her…

Falling for her. So hard he still hadn’t picked his ass all
the way up off the ground.

He’d never been prone to introspection. But alone, stretched
out on a deck chair in the miserable space that passed for his balcony, a glass
of Shiraz in hand and his phone in his lap, he could admit he’d changed. Not
outwardly. But parts of him had altered irrevocably.

Whether that was good or bad, he didn’t know. He’d just save
that question for the day he finally bought that six-pack of sessions with a
shrink he’d always wanted.

His cell buzzed and he grabbed it, smiling as he saw the
caller. If he felt a moment’s hesitation, a moment’s hope, it didn’t linger.
His response to the phone was instinctive. And annoying. “What’s shaking,
Daze?”

“You know what’s shaking. Have you made up your mind to help
me with Trick’s Treats yet?”

“Halloween’s not for three weeks.”

“It’s not on Halloween. It’s the weekend before. C’mon,
Jeffy. You’ll get your very own striped suspenders.”

He snorted and tipped back his bottle of wine. The more he
drank, the better the stuff tasted. “Dressing up as a clown isn’t my idea of
fun.”