Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (6 page)

The car shot forward, shoving Opal hard against the seat. “B-B-Be there in a… in a l-l-little bit. L-L-Listen. I w-w-want you to… to… g-g-go into the b-b-bathroom and l-l-lock the d-d-door.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy. I’m okay, I promise. Dan won’t let anything bad happen to me.” A breathy little giggle sounded down the line. “You should’a seen him punch out Ryan. It was awesome! I gotta go. I don’t want to wake him up ’til he’s feeling better.” And damned if she didn’t disconnect the call, leaving Opal staring mutely, helplessly, at her mobile phone.

She didn’t know which scenario was worse. Either Sera was alone in the house with a stranger, or Sera was alone, period, and this Dan was her imaginary friend. Which seemed… highly
unlikely
, given Liza’s text.

“Gonna clue me in?”

Desiree’s question yanked Opal from the mire of unanswered questions and ghastly scenarios that no mother who’d left a young child with a sitter should have to think about. She’d opened her mouth and snapped it shut again, at a loss where to start, when Desiree said, “Do we need to call the cops?”

Well, duh. It was the most logical thing to do, right? But something prompted Opal to shake her head. Having the cops barge in would be terrifying for a little girl. And Sera hadn’t sounded the slightest bit scared—the complete opposite, in fact. And if “Dan” was real and Sera
had
been frightened, the minute he’d fallen asleep, Sera was smart enough to have gotten out of the house and run next door to—

Omigod. Opal mentally smacked herself upside the head. Why hadn’t she thought of ringing her neighbor before? She didn’t have a clue whether Peter Stone had a mobile phone but she could ring his landline. She waved a finger at Desiree in a give-me-one-second gesture, and searched her contacts list for her neighbor’s number.

Got it. She held her breath, waiting for the call to connect.

“Peter Stone speaking.”

Thank you, God. “It’s… it’s… O-O-Opal.” She was so strung out it was all she could do to spit out her own name. She’d have been humiliated to her core if she hadn’t been so damn relieved he’d answered the phone at this late hour.

“You sound distressed, my dear. How can I help you?”

“The s-s-sitter. She… she… l-l-left.”

“She left young Sera alone? Abominable! I will insure Sera is supervised until you arrive.” And before she could thank him, or caution him, or ask him to call her back when he’d checked on Sera, he’d disconnected the call.

Opal puffed out a breath. Never mind. She owed her neighbor more than he could ever know. Calling the cops and having to answer the inevitable questions increased the chances someone would recognize her once-famous face. If it got out that Opal Jordan Stewart had once been
Jordan Cast
, and she was now a single mom, and someone decided they had a newsworthy story on their hands….

She wrapped her arms about her middle and suppressed a moan. God. What had she been thinking? She should never have agreed to this gig. She’d been dreaming to think she deserved a little respite from worrying about her daughter’s health and wellbeing, and struggling to make ends meet. She should have known that her desire for a little pampering—to have her hair and makeup done, wear nice clothes,
pretend
just for a little while she was someone else—would come back to bite her in the ass.

“Opal? Talk to me, sweetie. It’s killing me seeing you like this. Talk to me!”

Opal nodded. Desiree deserved an explanation—even if it took the remainder of the trip to get that explanation out.

~~~

“This the right place?”

Opal didn’t realize she’d drifted into a doze until Desiree’s voice dragged her from the fog of weariness. She pinched the bridge of her nose to clear the fuzz from her brain. “Yes.”

As Desiree pulled up to the curb, Opal peered up at her house. Lights blazed in the sitting room. It took every ounce of control she possessed not to leap from the still moving vehicle. Instead, she waited until the car came to a complete stop before unfastening her safety belt and opening the passenger side door. She held herself in check and waited for Desiree. And was so damn grateful when the other woman clasped her hand that she wanted to bawl.

“You ready?” Desiree asked.

Opal responded with a sharp nod.

“We can still call the cops and let them handle whoever might be inside with Sera.”

Opal shook her head… and hoped to God she was doing the right thing.

“I’m sure ringing you back just slipped his mind. He probably had his hands full with your little girl.”

It took a moment to click that the “he” Desiree referred to was Peter Stone. And Desiree had a point. Her neighbor was hardly a young man and, like most eight year olds, Sera could be demanding when she got over-excited.

“I’ve got my mobile right here,” Desiree said, brandishing the phone like a weapon. “Anything seems hinky, you give me the word and the cops’ll be on their way. Okay?”

“O-k-k-kay.” Thank God Desiree was here. Because if this “Dan” turned out to be a real person, and something had happened to Sera and Peter, the local cops might not take Opal seriously when she could barely make herself understood. They might believe she was mentally impaired. Last thing she needed was someone believing she couldn’t take care of Sera and getting Child Protective Services involved.

Opal fished her front door key from her tote. Arm in arm, she and Desiree marched up the stairs to the front door… which was unlocked.

Anger washed away shock. So much for trusting her elderly neighbor. Anyone who would leave a front door unlocked at night was either criminally naïve or an idiot. Or maybe one step away from senility, in which case she should be a bit more charitable, but damn it was hard when she was so worried about Sera. God. Anyone could have wandered in!

Opal untangled her arm from Desiree’s and burst into the living room at a run… only to stop dead at the sight that greeted her.

Desiree skidded to a halt beside her. “Oh, my,” she said, one hand drifting to her heart. “That’s a calendar-worthy photo right there. And I’m about to melt into a gooey little puddle of girl-parts.”

Ditto. Except rather than melting, Opal felt like she’d been kicked in the chest by a herd of grumpy donkeys.

The man stretched out on the couch was big. And black. And…
beautiful
, which she knew was trite and unimaginative and terribly clichéd but she couldn’t think of a better way to describe him. She’d never seen such a gorgeous specimen of manhood outside of a glossy magazine. Curled up atop his chest, the top of her head tucked beneath his chin, was Sera. Her features were partially obscured by her unruly hair, but it was obvious she had felt safe and secure enough to drift off to sleep without her favorite stuffed toy—a fluffy red fox she’d instantly fallen in love with because its fur matched her hair.

Sera’s human mattress must be her “friend”. Dan. The man who’d given Liza and her boyfriend their marching orders—reacting exactly as Opal would have done if she’d walked in on the two teens doing… what she suspected they’d been doing. This was the man her elderly neighbor had randomly left in charge of Sera.

And what a man he was.

Her horror at seeing a
stranger
cuddling her daughter segued to fascination and some other emotion Opal couldn’t identify. She didn’t realize she’d moved but she must have… because now she was standing by the couch, staring down at him,
reaching
for him, her outstretched hand hovering above his cheek, fingers itching to touch him.

A large hand snaked out, manacling her wrist as he shifted, pushed himself into a seated position with Sera still cradled carefully in one arm. Before Opal could so much as squeak, his eyelids snapped open. And the breath was snatched from her lungs by the regard of shockingly blue eyes that were leached of all beauty, because right now they were so cold and piercing and… and…
disapproving
, that she instinctively threw her weight backward, and ended up on her butt, heels scrabbling for purchase on the wooden floor.

Her wrist gave a sharp twinge, protesting the angle, but his grip was firm rather than bruising. He wasn’t deliberately hurting her. Not physically, at least. But the disgust skating across the depths of those sky-blue eyes and the defined curl of his lip were hurtful. He didn’t know her but he was judging her. And it was painfully obvious he didn’t approve of what he saw.

Opal concentrated on relaxing the too-tight muscles of her back and chest and remembering how to breathe. “Thank you for looking after Sera. And now you need to go.”

Happily, her stutter had taken a hike. It happened sometimes—randomly, and too infrequently for her to analyze exactly what she’d done and attempt to replicate it. But for now, rather than frustration she felt a flicker of fierce pride that she’d spoken her mind.

That pride sputtered like a candle in a draft when his coolly assessing gaze skimmed her from head to toe, making her abnormally conscious she wore a skirt and was flashing not only far too much leg, but goodness knows what else right now.

She clamped her thighs together. And then, when he didn’t seem inclined to take the hint and release her wrist, she used the tension in his muscled arm to haul herself to her knees.

Big mistake. Being on her knees before him put her at even more of a disadvantage, as though she was some supplicant begging for mercy. Or just plain begging.

She compressed her lips, forcing back unwelcome memories of the last time she’d begged a man.

“Let go of her,” Opal heard Desiree say in a clipped no-nonsense tone. “Now. Or I’m calling the cops. See? This is me with my finger poised over the Call button.”

Opal was grateful beyond words for Desiree’s courage, but bringing the cops into this was only going to open a can of worms. “P-P-Please d-d-don’t,” she said, not taking her gaze from the stranger’s face.

Huh. Her reprieve had been temporary and the stutter had returned. Fantastic. She worked moisture into her mouth and swallowed to ease the strain of her vocal chords. Stuttering made her seem weak. And she didn’t believe for an instant this man respected anything weak.

“You sure, Opal?” Desiree asked.

Dan’s gaze flicked past Opal’s shoulder. And then returned to her. He gave her another once-over—a far more thorough one this time.

He was comparing her to Desiree, damn him.

Opal averted her chin, fixing her gaze on a dust bunny beneath his chair as the wave of heat painted her cheeks. The navy polyester skirt, shiny with age, and the plain white tee she’d donned after the show couldn’t compare to Desiree’s effortlessly stylish hot pink blouse and tailored black pants. Opal hadn’t cared prior to this moment. So long as she’d showcased the
designer’s
clothes on the runway, what did it matter what she wore afterward? But
he
made her care. Right now he made her feel as cheap and down-market as her clothes.

She shrugged off her hurt. Bastard. No one had the right to judge her. No one. Sera had nice clothes, and a few quality toys and gadgets—the best Opal could buy given her limited income. And if that meant there wasn’t much left to spend on clothing for herself, and buying new was a treat she saved for Christmas and her birthday, then it was no business of his.

She jerked her wrist from his grip, all-too-aware that had he wanted to keep hold of her, she would have been powerless to prevent him. She scrambled to her feet, looming over him, channeling lioness protecting her cub for all she was worth. “G-G-Give me… m-m-my daughter. N-N-Now.”

He arched one eyebrow—a challenge if ever she’d seen one.

She sensed a flurry of movement and then Desiree was beside her, wafting expensive scent mingled with resolve. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Desiree said. “Give Opal her daughter right now or we’ll make you big-time sorry, you handsome asshole.”

Opal slanted her friend an “are you insane?” glance and Desiree shrugged. “I tell it like it is, sweetie. He’s handsome as sin and a real—”

“I have been called worse,” the handsome asshole said.

Sera sighed, wuffled something incomprehensible, and settled back into slumber.

A whimper tore from Opal’s throat.

“You are her mother,” he said. “I see her in you.”

She held out her arms, not trusting herself to speak.

He stood, the movement sublimely graceful. And then, with the utmost care, he transferred Sera into Opal’s outstretched arms.

The instant his hands grazed her bare skin all the feminine desires and yearnings she’d believed dead and buried roared to life. Some part she’d not known existed wanted this stranger to cup her face in his big capable hands and press those sensual lips to hers. She wanted him to kiss away her fears and worries, and help her forget a traumatic past. She wanted
him
.

But she didn’t trust these emotions, and why the hell would she when he’d made it very clear what he thought of her? She was stressed and overtired, imagining things. That was all. She released the breath she’d been holding with a hiss and backed away, clutching her daughter to her heart and whispering soothing nonsense into Sera’s strawberry-scented hair.

“You left an ailing child at the mercy of an immature guardian who cared nothing for her welfare.” He spoke slowly, articulating each word as though he wanted there to be no misunderstandings. “You do not deserve to be a mother.”

Stunned by the bald cruelty of the statement, Opal’s chin jerked up and she found herself pinned by the contempt in those cold blue eyes. Her vocal chords spasmed and closed, leaving her mute and unable to defend herself. She could only stand there, statue-still and open-mouthed, as the initial hot-cold-hot wave of righteous “how dare he!” anger was trumped by guilt and shame.

He was right. She’d left Sera alone for an entire weekend with a teenage girl who’d shown up dressed like every parent’s worst nightmare. A girl who’d invited her boyfriend over…. And done something that had provoked this man to toss them both out of the house, and then to stick around and supervise Sera. Opal shuddered to think what her baby girl might have witnessed.