Lover's Lane (11 page)

16

WITH A GARAGE-SALE PICNIC BASKET IN HAND, CARLY NEGOTIATED the warped front porch and lingered on the doorstep of Jake’s rental house on Lover’s Lane, high above the sea.

He was waiting for her inside, standing just over the threshold, anxious to hear what she thought, as if her opinion actually mattered.

Chris nudged past her to stand beside Jake and look around the living room.

“Wow, Mom. It’s big, huh?”

“Mostly it’s a big mess.” Jake shook his head, taking it all in.

Chris was hopping from foot to foot. “Can I walk around?”

“No.” Carly shook her head.

“Sure,” Jake said at the exact same time.

Chris’ gaze shot back and forth between the two of them. “Which?”

“Go ahead,” Carly told him, “but don’t touch anything.”

She glanced at Jake and smiled tentatively as she stepped inside. When he had called about picking them up this morning, he thoughtfully hadn’t mentioned the kiss, nor had he on the drive up the hill. He wasn’t acting any differently than he had last night. He wasn’t awkward, embarrassed, or hesitant.

She wished she could say the same for herself. She had to force herself to look up at him as he held the door open for her.

Carly set down the basket and turned her attention to the wonderful house. It was easy to see the beauty of the place beneath the peeling paint and chipped plaster.

Moving along with Jake beside her, she ran her hand over the detail in the painted woodwork and paused to study the view from every window.

She walked over to the built-in sideboard, opened one of the glass-fronted doors. By some miracle, very few had broken panes.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” she sighed.

“I have a feeling Tracy Potter might think differently.”

Carly caught him smiling into her eyes. “I have a feeling you’re right,” she laughed.

Chris came bounding in from the kitchen with an empty jar in his hand. “I found this on top of the wastebasket. Can I go look for bugs?”

“No, I think you should stay right here.”

“Aw, Mom. I’ll stay close to the house.”

“Let’s go take a look.” Jake walked into the kitchen. Carly followed until Chris cut between them so he could walk behind Jake.

The back door had to be forced open. As Jake stood in the center of the deck, Carly walked over to the railing and looked around. There was no ocean view, but the sound of the sea hitting the shore echoed off the hillside.

About sixty yards from the back door, a dry creek bed cut through a shallow arroyo lined with cottonwoods and mesquite.

“Mom? Can I
pleeeze
hunt for bugs?” Chris sidled close to her hip.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she told him.

“He’ll be fine,” Jake assured her. “We’ll picnic outside so I won’t be reminded of all I have to do to get this place ready to move into.” He glanced down at Chris. “But the final decision’s up to your mom. She’s the boss, right?”

Carly shook her head and smiled. It was hard enough to tell Chris no, especially now that they were double teaming her.

“Okay.” She ruffled Chris’ hair. “But you stay near the house. I’ll go get the basket.”

Chris rushed off the porch, jar in hand, headed for a nearby bush. Jake followed her inside. She paused in the dining area.

“I’d paint the walls all white and strip the woodwork so that the detail shows.” She tried not to notice how close he was standing or how his eyes hadn’t left her for more than a heartbeat.

“That’s what I thought, too,” he agreed, his voice low and even. “Restore it to what it was originally. Of course, that’ll depend on how long I’m here and what the owners allow.”

Perhaps he was subtly reminding her that his stay was only temporary, that this wasn’t his place, but a rental for a few weeks this season. That she shouldn’t expect anything permanent.

The picnic basket was in the living room. They reached for it at the same time. When their arms and shoulders touched, Carly pulled away first. She watched Jake’s fingers close around the mended handle.

When she straightened, she met his eyes, and her stomach cartwheeled. She couldn’t go on pretending that nothing had happened last night. Maybe she had let hormones make a fool of her, but she had to know, one way or the other.

“Jake . . . I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night. I certainly embarrassed myself. I’ve never . . .”

He set the basket down again. “Let’s get one thing straight.”

“What?”

“You didn’t embarrass me. You surprised me, but embarrassed? You’re talking to a man who once licked a margarita off a tabletop in Ensenada. I don’t
get
embarrassed.”

“I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.” She looked down at her hands, studied her fingernails.

“You gave me some ideas, but there was nothing wrong with them.” A slow, sexy smile replaced the serious expression on his face.

“Why did you do it, Carly?”

“Do what?”

“Kiss me last night.”

“I suddenly wanted to . . .”
Had to.

“I’m glad you did.”

“. . . to thank you for the nice dinner,” she finished.

“I should feed you more often. It was a nice kiss, but it was over too fast. What do you say we try it again? Maybe get it right this time?”

He moved before she realized he wasn’t kidding. His arms suddenly closed around her, brought her up against him. She shut her eyes, leaned into his solid warmth, and melted from the inside out. His lips teased hers, his embrace tightened, his kiss deepened.

He kissed her until her head swam and her knees went weak.

Colors swam and blended in her mind. Inspired light and color, scenes and vignettes came to her. Sunsets and rainbows, the shimmering surface of the sea. His heart beat against hers, an echo that eased the aching loneliness that lingered in the shadowed corners of her heart.

She took a step back, but Jake continued to hold her at arms’ length. For an instant she thought she saw haunted confusion in his eyes, but in a flash the look was gone.

“What’s happening here, Carly?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, shaken, realizing that he didn’t have any better idea of where this was going than she. Thoughtful, Jake picked up the basket, ran a hand through his hair. Together they walked in silence through the house and this time Carly reached the back porch first. He noted the attractive blush across her cheeks before she shaded her eyes and looked for Christopher.

“He must have gone around front.” She hurried down the back steps, calling the boy’s name. Rounding the corner of the house, she walked out of sight.

He set down the basket and looked around. Spring rains had thickened the grass on the hillside, turned it emerald. Here and there, blooming yellow mustard stood out like splashes of gold against the vibrant green.

There was a deep peace and serenity here that the city had lost. Inside himself, he was far from peaceful.

Sleep was a luxury he’d done without last night. Around three in the morning he wished he’d checked into a real motel with room service, a television in every room, cable movies, and twenty-four-hour news. Doomed to suffer insomnia at Rose Cottage, he’d tossed and turned in the too-soft bed, haunted not only by suffocating clusters of roses, but by the memory of Carly’s sweet kiss, the fragrance of her hair, the fleeting taste of her lips.

From the moment she had climbed into the car this morning, he’d been aching for another. Now he wanted more.

He shoved his hands into his back pockets, tested a loose floorboard with the toe of his shoe. He wasn’t fool enough to rationalize that he was hanging around for the sake of his friendship with Rick or to honor his friend’s memory.

Maybe in the very beginning, before he’d laid eyes on Carly, his quest had been altruistic, carried out because he had wanted to help bring closure to the Saunders and to assure himself that Rick’s son was being well cared for.

In the beginning that’s what it had been all about. But what about now?
What would Rick think of what I’m doing now?

The answer was pure and simple.

Rick wasn’t around to think anything.

It was a perfect spring day. The Southern California sun
was working overtime to make up for winter.

Jake answered a knock at the door, surprised to find Rick
standing on the other side.

“What’s it been? Three years since we’ve actually seen
each other?” Rick asked. He pumped Jake’s hand as Jake
ushered him into his sparsely furnished condo.

Marla had ended up with most of their stuff after the divorce. She wanted it a lot more than he wanted anything
around to remind him of her.

“Can’t be that long, but it probably is,” Jake admitted.
“How about a beer?”

“Sure.” Rick looked tan and rested, more than Jake
could say for himself, but then, Rick was a trust-fund brat
who would never have to work a day in his life if he didn’t
want to.

Rick followed him into the kitchen and took the Pacifico
Jake handed him. “Thanks, buddy. I came by to ask a favor
of you.”

“Shoot.” There was little Jake could say no to, not since
Rick had lent him some of the money he would need to start
his own firm. Not only that, but Rick had made Jake promise not to think about paying him back until it wouldn’t be a
hardship.

“Montgomery, I’m getting married. I want you to be my
best man.”

“Married? You?” Rick was a consummate playboy. Jake
almost laughed, until he noticed a new expression of ease
and maybe even contentment in Rick’s eyes, one he’d definitely never seen there before.

Some girl had finally gotten to the playboy, hook, line,
and sinker.

“Can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” Jake told him.
Inwardly he groaned at the thought of donning a tux and
writing a toast worthy of a wedding that would no doubt be
the social event of the season. “I have to admit though, I’m
surprised,” he added. “Back when I got married, you said
you planned to stretch out your bachelorhood until you
were sixty.”

“Hang on, buddy, ’cause there’s more. I’m a dad. I’ve got
a kid! And he’s great.” Rick reached into his back pocket,
pulled out a bright envelope of Kodak photographs. He
opened it, fished around, handed one over. “You can keep
it. I have a couple more of that pose.”

Rick stood by beaming as Jake stared down at a very,
very young looking blonde in a denim jacket holding an infant up to the lense. Her hair was cropped close, spiked, the
tips dyed bright canary yellow. A row of silver studs outlined the multitude of pierces along the curve of her ear.

She had a killer smile, but there was something in her eyes
besides happiness, an inner wisdom, or perhaps it was sorrow. Perhaps the kind of knowledge that only came with
time or hard knocks.

“She looks great.” Jake had no idea what else to say. The
girl didn’t look much older than twenty-one, if she was that.
She was certainly attractive, even in spite of her hairstyle
and makeup.

Naturally Rick had picked a beauty. Looks would have
been a prerequisite—but Jake was surprised by more than
her youth. He always figured Rick would settle down with
someone sophisticated, someone from the Saunders’ social
stratum.

“She
is
great. I met her during my forty days and nights in
the desert. I’ve been in Japan for almost a year and a half,
but before I left, I went down to Borrego Springs to check
out some property I bought outside of town. I met her one
night when she was working as a waitress at the Crosswinds Restaurant. As they say, the rest is history.”

Jake could just imagine what Rick’s parents must be
thinking. He’d have gotten the same sermon from his own
granddad if he’d proposed to someone who looked like
Rick’s intended bride.

“I’m on my way back out to the desert to pick up Caroline and Christopher and bring them back to Long Beach. I
just broke the news to my folks. Naturally, they’re having a
shitfit. Especially my mom.” Rick shrugged, flashed his
bad-boy smile. “Caroline’s not exactly Junior League material, but she’s pretty and fun and hey, the kid’s definitely
mine. He already looks just like me, don’t you think?”

Jake studied the photo. The baby’s eyes were exactly like
Rick’s. Even the shape of his head was the same, but like
most babies, the kid probably looked like a lot of people.

They finished their beers, and Jake walked him to the
door. He waved good-bye, watched Rick put his Porsche
into gear and back out of the parking stall.

He had no way of knowing Rick Saunders would never
make it back to the desert to pick up his fiancée and
their son.

After Rick died and Jake heard that Caroline had disappeared, Jake felt he owed it to the man who had believed in him enough to loan him a stake in the future to find her.

Jake’s memories evaporated when Carly suddenly came running around the side of the house. Her face was ashen, her blue eyes wide and full of fear.

“I can’t find Christopher. He’s gone.”

“He can’t be far.”
Could he?

“I’ve looked all around the house.” Her voice rose on every word.