Nobody's Hero (42 page)

Her Mom’s gaze shot daggers at her. “No,
Karla. You aren’t going to settle for a fraction of a man’s heart.
You deserve all or nothing. Promise me you’ll accept nothing less
than one-hundred percent of a man’s love. Obviously, you just
haven’t met the right one yet.”

Maybe her mom was right. She knew she'd
accept even a small piece of Adam's heart, if only he'd offer it.
Good thing Adam was a thousand miles away, because she wasn’t in
any position to deny Adam anything right now.

She needed him so badly. Her emotional
fragileness could spell disaster for her future. She’d been able to
walk away from him once, but her heart wouldn’t withstand being
stomped on a second time.

Why did love have to be so painful?

Why couldn't you love me back, Adam, even a
little?

* * *

“Karla, answer the door. My hands are full of
pie dough.”

Karla put her notebook aside. The lyrics for
songs flowed from her now so easily, she was never far from her
pencil and paper. Why was it so much easier to write about
unrequited love? Probably because she couldn’t think about anything
else at the moment, but when she was with Adam, she didn’t want to
spend time writing about her feelings. She just wanted to
experience those feelings with him.

More fucking tears. Enough with the
waterworks already! She dashed them away with the backs of her
hands as she made her way to the front door, wondering who would be
visiting the day before Thanksgiving. A large man’s shadow filled
the doorway and Karla’s heart beat an erratic tattoo a moment
before she realized her mind was conjuring up images of Adam, who
couldn’t possibly be here. She pushed the curtain aside and peeked
out.

But she was wrong.

Of course, no one else had shoulders that
broad. And where was his heavy coat? It was freezing out there.
Karla hurried to open the inside door, then the storm one, and
motioned him inside. “Get in here before you catch pneumonia,
S…Adam.”
Oh, God, she’d almost called him Sir.
She gave him
a quavering smile. He didn’t smile back. He didn’t reach out to
touch her. Karla’s excitement dampened. “What are you doing here,
Adam?”

“Your folks invited me last summer. I
accepted.”

She hoped she hid her disappointment from
him. Yes, dutiful Adam always kept his promises. Karla just wished
he’d been able to make some kind of promise or commitment to her.
He laid his duffel bag on the floor inside the door and removed his
light jacket. She reached out to take it, then held it to her
chest, breathing in the woodsy male scent that was Adam. She’d
missed his scent almost as much as she’d missed him. Almost. Okay,
in a moment of weakness, she’d even gone to the mall yesterday to
buy a bottle of the oak-scented body wash she’d come to associate
with him.

She’d never been more pathetic in her entire
life.

“Mom’s in the kitchen. You know the way.”

Adam reached out and stroked her cheek.
“You’ve lost weight. Have you been sick?”

“No. Just not very hungry.” Because I missed
you so much I couldn’t eat. Yeah, she had it bad.

“You need to eat more.”

“I don’t have to follow your orders anymore,
Adam.”
Great. Now she sounded like a petulant child
. No, a
brat. Only she wasn’t Master Adam’s brat anymore, which just left
her feeling empty.

She continued to clutch his jacket to her
chest, wishing he were in it. The look of regret that flitted
across his face sparked her anger, then she tamped it back down.
Anger meant she cared. She didn’t want to care anymore. It hurt too
much. Besides, if he cared, he would have accepted her the way she
was and made a commitment to her. Instead, he chose to live with
the cold memory of his perfect slave, Joni.

Karla looked down at the floor.

Adam reached up and stroked her cheek. “You
left without saying goodbye.”

Karla looked up at his face and definitely
saw regret in his eyes—and maybe even disappointment. “Didn’t you
find my letter?”

“What letter?”

“The one I left on your desk.”

“I didn’t go back in my office after Marc
told me you’d left me, kitten.”

Please don’t call me that anymore,
Sir.
How could he have missed her in such a short time?
Besides, she could never be the type of woman he wanted and needed.
“Well, it was mostly a resignation letter.” She’d resigned from
being the club’s singer, but hadn’t been able to write the words
that would put an end to their non-working relationship, even
though she knew it was over.

“It was time. You helped me get over Ian and
I needed to be with my folks for this first Thanksgiving without
him.”

“We’d already planned for me to bring you
home. Remember? We were going to drive up here together.”

I couldn’t face you after I embarrassed
myself so badly at the club that night.
“Well, it looks like
we’re going to be together whether we like it or not.” His eyes
narrowed and she wondered why her words would cause any reaction.
Maybe he regretted they couldn’t remain friends, but being near him
without being able to touch, hug, or kiss him was more than she
would be able to stand. Lord, she hoped he wouldn’t be staying the
entire weekend.

Karla extended her hand toward the hallway.
“After you.” She’d almost added Sir again. Old habits die hard. But
he wasn’t her Sir anymore. He wasn’t her anything. She blinked her
eyes, fighting back the waterworks. If she cried in front of him,
she’d absolutely die of shame.

She squared her shoulders. Karla Paxton
refused to embarrass herself in front of him during this visit. And
she wouldn’t beg for his love or his acceptance—ever again.

* * *

Adam’s heart broke to see the dark circles
under Karla’s eyes and how much thinner she was. She hadn’t been
that thin in Denver, had she? Surely he’d have noticed. He’d been
working hard at feeding her so she’d gain weight, ever since he’d
recovered from the cougar attack.

He’d been worried about her since she’d left
Denver, apparently for good reason. The woman needed a caretaker.
He’d never wanted any job more than that one.

But he’d fucked up the job the last time. How
would it be different this time? He’d hurt her, rather than cared
for her. Now he needed to make it right again.

He just hoped he could figure out how to do
that before it was too late. One thing he knew, the thought of
going back to that house in Denver without her made his gut
tighten. He hadn’t realized how much she’d become a part of his
life and his home in recent months, until he’d had to rattle around
his lonely house one fucking day and night without her. There was
no corner of the house where he didn’t remember Karla’s
presence.

But the worst had been sleeping without Karla
filling his arms. Even on the nights when she’d slept in her
room—usually because he’d sent her there—at least he’d known she
was there if he wanted her and she'd always come running if he
called for her. Yeah, bastard that he was, he’d held a lopsided
level of power in their relationship. That needed to change,
too.

“Adam! What a nice surprise!”

Jenny put the rolling pin down and wiped her
hands on the dish towel tucked into her waistband.

“Thanks for inviting me, ma’am.”

“Let’s not go back to the
ma’am
stuff.
It’s Jenny.” She came toward him and wrapped her arms around his
waist. “So glad you can be here with us again, especially this
year.”

Adam detected the sadness in her voice and
put his arms around her, too. He wished he had the words to say
that would comfort her over the loss of her son, but knew mere
words could never do that. Ironically, he’d first been invited to
join the Paxtons for Thanksgiving nine years ago, in part because
they were missing Ian, who had just finished his basic training
with the Army, although he didn’t think the boy had been deployed
to Iraq yet. But this year was worse, because they knew with
certainty Ian would never be coming back.

Jenny’s arms loosened and he let her go, but
as she drew away, he saw the tears swimming in her eyes. “How are
you and Carl doing, Jenny?”

“We’re just taking it one day at a time, but
it’s not easy.”

Karla came over to her mom and put her arm
around her shoulder. She, too, had tears in her eyes. He ached to
reach out and brush them away, hold her in his arms, or in his lap,
until he absorbed some of her pain, but knew that couldn’t happen.
Not yet anyway. They needed to talk first.

Jenny gave in to her tears only a moment
before she stood taller and stepped back to her pie dough.
“Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. Nothing is going
to bring my son back, but I intend to honor him this year by
telling and listening to stories of some of his exploits, preparing
and sharing his favorite foods, and surrounding myself with others
who will do the same.”

Adam felt a little out of place, not having
really known Ian, other than from what Karla had told him. But he
knew how hard his death had been on the ones who loved him.

Jenny brushed her tears away with the backs
of her hands and went to the sink to wash and dry them before
returning to her pie crust. “Karla, take Adam up to Ian’s room and
help him get settled before Daddy gets home. Then we’ll all go out
to eat, because I don’t plan to make anything but pies and a
reservation tonight.”

Adam watched as Karla nibbled on her lower
lip, causing his balls to tighten, then she pulled her shoulders
back and turned to face him. “Follow me.”

Yes, ma’am.

They returned to the living room where he
picked up his seabag, then he followed her up the stairs to the
room where he’d slept the last time he’d been here. When he walked
inside, he saw the room hadn’t changed a lot since then. Only now,
a triangle-folded flag encased in a wood-and-glass box of the same
shape held the place of honor on the boy’s dresser, amidst his
baseball and soccer trophies. Ian’s war decorations were displayed
there as well, showing the boy had earned a number of prestigious
ones during his short stint in the Army.

“The bathroom’s through there.” She pointed
at the door across the room. “It’s a Jack and Jill, so be sure to
lock my side if you don’t want me to surprise you in there
sometime.”

What if I do want you to surprise me?
Being near her again and not being able to touch her would be hell.
But he didn’t want to violate Jenny and Carl’s trust by jumping
their daughter’s bones under their own roof. He figured the only
reason they’d invited him originally was to make sure he brought
their daughter home for the holiday. But that hadn’t been
necessary, after all. She’d brought herself home.

All he wanted was to have Karla back in his
home—in his bed—as soon as possible. He needed her. No better time
than the present to start letting her know that. “Thanks, Karla.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek, but she pulled away as if
he’d struck her.
Fuck
.

“I never meant to hurt you, kitten.”

She flinched. “Please don’t call me
kitten.”

Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck!
He’d done
worse than hurt her. She’d enjoyed being his kitten.

“I’m sorry, k…Karla.” He wouldn’t call her
kitten until he’d earned the right again, because that endearment
was reserved for his sub. Obviously, she didn’t want to be his sub
anymore.

“Let us know if you need anything. Come down
to the kitchen after you get settled in. Daddy might be a few
hours, though, if you want to rest a bit.” She looked as though she
wanted him to hole up in here as much as possible.

She turned and left the room, closing the
door with a soft click behind her.

Total clusterfucking-A. This wasn’t going to
be as easy as he’d thought.

Karla went into her bedroom, then into the
bath, locking the door to Adam’s…Ian’s room, then took a washcloth
and wet it with cold water. She pressed the cold cloth against her
eyes, hoping to remove any traces of the hot tears that had been
burning there since Adam had shown up. How was she going to get
through tomorrow with Adam so near? How long did he plan to
stay?

Please, dear Lord, let him leave Friday, if
not sooner.

Several hours later, she sat atop one of the
tallest buildings in Chicago having dinner with her parents and
Adam. The conversation remained steady on any number of inane
topics until Adam dropped a conversation bomb that surprised
her.

“Karla, when do you plan to start recording
again?”

“Recording what?”

“Your new music. I know you’ve been busy
writing songs in that notebook of yours. You need to pursue getting
your music out on CDs or MP3s or whatever people listen to music on
these days.”

She put her fork down. “I don’t have a
contract any longer.”

“Well, I’ve been looking into it online…”

“You’ve been doing what?”

He smiled at her and she felt little
butterflies take flight. Must be the altitude.

“Yeah, well, I know how much you missed out
on reaching that goal when…well, when you came to Denver.”

Funny, Karla thought, but she’d found so much
more singing in his club and being with him, she really hadn’t felt
that she’d missed anything. Sure, singing in a small private club
didn’t give her the thrill of entertaining audiences in a big
Manhattan Goth club, but she enjoyed the freedom of singing
whatever she wanted. The Goth club’s owner had never let her stray
far from the script.

Adam had threatened to make her run her song
list by him when he was her Master, but that arrangement had ended
before she’d ever had to actually do it. He’d always given her free
rein to sing whatever she wanted. Sure, she’d bombed on a few
things—having to try and keep her audience in the BDSM mood
sometimes proved a challenge she hadn’t trained for—but for the
most part, the club members seemed to enjoy her selections.