Risky Christmas (3 page)

It wasn't that she wasn't friendly. It was more like she wasn't
happy.

She'd lost her husband and was raising two kids on her own, so that was understandable. Most women in her position wouldn't feel overjoyed.

But there was a deeper issue with her, he suspected. She'd panicked when she saw him this morning. She'd also made sure he didn't have access to the serving fork. Although his sister had often moved sharp items out of the children's reach, Leah's kids weren't babies. She considered him a threat.

He wasn't insulted by her attitude. She was a protective mother and he respected that. What unsettled him was the thought of someone traumatizing her so badly that she expected others to do the same.

In a way, she reminded him of himself. He'd been bounced around a lot when he was a kid. So had his little sister. A few of the foster homes they'd lived in were just as dysfunctional as his mother's house, and it wasn't unusual for him to get picked on or roughed up. As he got older he'd become less of a target. He'd learned how to defend himself and his sister, but he'd never forgotten how it felt to be small and scared.

During the meal, he'd wondered if Leah's husband
had been abusive. Then her eyes had softened when she spoke of him and he dismissed the idea.

Whatever she'd gone through was none of his business. He was drawn to her and he had the strange feeling that she shared his interest. But he also realized that she didn't welcome the attraction. He should forget about their impromptu Christmas get-together.

She wouldn't invite him back.

Brian decided to keep an eye out for her anyway. The remodel would take several more months, and he liked the idea of being her unofficial security guard. No one could approach Leah's house without him noticing.

He'd had no control over his foster-care childhood or his sister's untimely death. He had no chance at having a relationship with his nieces, his only relatives. But he could take on the responsibility of watching over Leah and her children.

He could do it from a distance.

L
eanne was driving home from the grocery store, humming along to the radio.

Baby Melissa was fast asleep in her car seat. Leanne parked in the driveway and grabbed several bags of groceries, walking inside. John's car had been alone in the garage, so she was surprised to hear more than one voice coming from the bedroom. Her husband sounded desperate, the other man, angry.

Frowning, she went down the hall. An intense wave of foreboding washed over her, and she almost turned around to go back to the car. Instinct told her to get Melissa and run. Instead, she moved quietly, softening her steps.

The door was cracked open. As she peered inside, her blood turned to ice. John knelt on the carpet, pleading for mercy. The man standing over him showed none. While she watched, he pulled out a gun and shot her husband in the head.

Leanne was too terrified to scream. But John's killer looked up and their eyes locked. It was Mariano Felix, one of his “business associates.”

She dropped the groceries in the hall and fled. She ran through the garage, past the driveway, across the yard. She left her car. There was no time to put the keys in the ignition, and she didn't want to endanger her daughter.

Heart pounding, she sailed over the hedge, into the neighbor's yard, and ducked down out of sight. Her purse was still hanging off her shoulder. With a shaking hand, she reached for her cell phone, dialing 911.

Heart hammering, she peeked over the hedge. Felix burst from the house, approaching the driver's-side door of her car.

“No!” she screamed.

He turned his head, catching sight of her behind the hedge.

She straightened, showing him the cell phone. An emergency operator had already responded to her call. “Please,” she said, begging for help. Begging for her life. For her baby's life.

The neighborhood was quiet, but it wasn't deserted. There were people in the nearby houses, cars on the street. Felix took off at a brisk pace, choosing not to murder her in front of dozens of possible witnesses.

He rounded the corner and disappeared.

She woke up in a cold sweat, his cruel face etched in her memory. The police had never found the loan shark who'd killed her husband. He was a cold-blooded criminal in a mafia organization and a very real threat to her.

The nightmare came less frequently now, over a year later. But it still had the power to set her nerves on edge.

Rising from the bed, she changed clothes, donning a pair of jean shorts and a white tank top. Judging by the
bright sunshine and absent marine layer, it was going to be another unseasonably warm day.

The girls were on winter break for another week, and she'd promised them a trip to the beach. In her old life, she'd have gone shopping on the day after Christmas. Her world had changed so much that she didn't miss spending money. And she certainly didn't miss the credit card bills or the arguments with John.

When they first met, his success had impressed her. She'd grown up in a financially unstable household, so it was comforting to date someone rich. He'd spoiled her with expensive gifts and told her to never worry about a thing.

A few years after they got married, his career took a nosedive and their relationship followed suit. He hid his gambling addiction from her and lied about his whereabouts. Soon the facade came tumbling down.

If he hadn't been murdered, she'd have filed for divorce. He'd refused to face their problems and never acknowledged that he needed help.

He wouldn't let her in.

John's death hadn't been easier to deal with because she'd fallen out of love with him. Failing marriage or not, Leah had depended on him. He'd abandoned them and left her to pick up the pieces, and she still resented him for it.

Leah made breakfast for the girls, who couldn't wait to walk down to the shore. They'd been in this house for several months, and although the beach was only two blocks away, they hadn't spent much time there.

“Can we wear our suits?” Mandy asked.

“I suppose,” Leah said, smothering a surge of anxiety. Both girls had taken swimming lessons, but they were small, and the Pacific Ocean was dangerous. “We're just going to get our feet wet.”

That was good enough for them. While they ran to their room to don their bathing suits, Leah packed a bag with snacks, drinks and towels. She didn't have any beach toys, so she grabbed her gardening tools and put them in a small plastic bucket.

When they were ready, she ushered the kids outside, locked the door and set the alarm behind her. Brian was in his driveway, scrubbing down his work truck with a long brush. He was wearing gray cargo shorts and a faded red T-shirt.

She couldn't ignore him like she used to, so she waved hello.

“What are you girls up to?” he asked with an easy smile, turning off the water faucet.

“We're going to the beach!” Alyssa said.

His eyes traveled along Leah's legs, which hadn't seen the light of day, or felt the heat of a man's gaze, in a long time. “My favorite place,” he said, clearing his throat. He winked at Mandy. “Have fun.”

She expected one of her daughters to invite him along. When they didn't, Leah urged them forward, feeling like she'd dodged a bullet. But every step she took away from him made her insides twist with guilt.

“Wait,” she said, tugging on Alyssa's hand.

Mandy stopped her forward march. “What?”

She turned to look at Brian again. He was wiping down the interior of his truck, studiously ignoring her. “Would you like to come with us?”

His hands stilled and he glanced over his shoulder.

Leah wasn't surprised when Mandy and Alyssa started jumping up and down in agreement. They lived an isolated existence. The prospect of hanging out with anyone besides their mother was wildly exciting.

“Okay,” he said, tossing aside a dust cloth. Just like that, he slammed the driver's side door of his truck and followed them to the beach.

They lived a few blocks from a long, narrow stretch of coastline known as The Strand. Several miles of road ran parallel to the beach, offering drivers a scenic view of girls in bikinis. Teenagers and rubberneckers drove up and down the strip every day of the week, checking out the hotties. Between the street and the beach there was a barrier of large, slate-colored rocks, mixed with heavy chunks of concrete. During high tide, the waves met these rocks and the beach all but disappeared.

Leah knew that because last time they'd had to walk all the way to the pier to find enough space to lay down a towel.

Today there was a nice amount of sand and it wasn't too crowded. Leah pointed to a spot near the lifeguard tower and they headed toward it.

“Is the tide coming in?” she asked Brian.

“Going out,” he said.

There were some advantages to bringing a surfer along, she supposed. If one of her children got knocked down by a wave, he could save them.

Fortunately, the ocean looked peaceful at the moment. There were no powerful breakers churning up the sand. Soft waves lapped at the shore, barely causing a stir. “Did you go surfing this morning?”

He shook his head. “Nothing to ride.”

She glanced out at the gentle water. “Oh, of course. Silly question.”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I obviously don't know anything about the ocean.”

“You didn't grow up here.”

“Right.” And this was why she avoided people. Pretty soon he'd ask where she was from. “Did you?”

“Yes. Born and raised. Although raised is too kind a word to describe my upbringing. ‘Turned loose' might be more accurate.”

“Why's that?”

“I was a foster kid. My sister and I both were.”

Leah came to a stop near the shore, spreading out her towel and spraying the girls down with sunscreen. “Can we build sand castles?” Mandy asked. When Leah said yes, they grabbed the bucket of tools and started digging.

Alyssa got upset when her first tower crumbled.

“You need to pack it down,” Brian explained, helping her fill the cup again. He patted the sand with the flat of his hand, showing her. She turned it upside down and lifted the cup, delighted with the smooth-set formation.

While Alyssa and Leah made a grand sand castle, Mandy and Brian started digging a moat the size of a small pond. Soon it was a major building project, complete with a seaweed drawbridge and pebble walkway.

The girls were covered in sand by the time they were finished, so Leah took them to rinse off in the ocean. Although the water was very cold, they splashed in the shallow surf, chasing each other along the shore.

Brian smiled at their antics. “Do they ever get tired?”

“Not as often as I'd like,” she admitted.

He wore a mild expression, sympathy mixed with envy.

“Why don't you have any children of your own?”

His brows rose at the question.

Leah flushed, realizing she was being nosy. “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's fine. I just don't know how to answer that without making you uncomfortable.”

“You don't have to,” she said quickly, trying to squelch her curiosity. “It was rude of me to ask.”

He laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Your girls are lucky.”

She watched her daughters play. They hadn't looked so carefree in a long time. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you never take your eyes off them.”

“I wish I could,” she murmured. “I fret too much.”

At that exact moment, Alyssa tripped and fell face-first into the water. Leah bolted into motion, running to her daughter and hauling her upright. Alyssa sputtered and coughed, gasping for breath. When her airway cleared, she started bawling.

Leah hugged Alyssa to her chest, cradling her bedraggled head. Her little body was shivering, sobs wrenching from her throat. She carried Alyssa back to the towel and wrapped her up in it, murmuring soft words of comfort. Brian handed another towel to Mandy and they sat together until Alyssa's tears subsided.

He didn't seem bothered by the minor incident. John had often accused her of babying the girls, but Leah had never been able to ignore their cries. She took an orange out of her bag, peeling it for Alyssa. “Okay now?”

She nodded, accepting a fruit slice. Mandy also wanted some. They ate the sweet, tart sections while the sun warmed their skin.

Leah offered Brian another orange, which he declined.

“Do you want to walk down the jetty?” he asked.

Leah eyed the man-made rock pathway that jutted out into the ocean. She'd seen fishermen casting poles from its jagged sides, and waves sloshing over the rocks, threatening to drag unsuspecting beachgoers out to sea.

“Mom's afraid of water,” Mandy announced.

Brian glanced at Leah in surprise.

She peeled the second orange, her cheeks heating. “I don't like deep water. Or big waves.”

“How big?”

“Over my head.”

“Those are the best kind.”

“For surfing, you mean?”

“Yeah. The bigger the wave, the better the ride. They go fast and break clean. And deep water is much less dangerous to wipe out in.”

She ate another slice of orange. “That makes sense.”

“Can you swim?”

“No,” she admitted. “The girls have taken lessons but I…can't bring myself to.”

He gave her a curious look. “Is it just the ocean you're afraid of, or all water?”

“All water, I guess. Lakes, oceans…swimming pools.” Before he could ask where her fear originated, she steered the conversation in a different direction. “Why do you like surfing so much?”

“I'll tell you on the way to the jetty,” he said, jerking his chin toward it. “The waves aren't even knee-high today. It's perfectly safe.”

She rose, brushing the sand off her bottom. “All right.”

Mandy leapt to her feet. Alyssa forgot her tears and ran along the shore with her sister. It was about a quarter mile to the jetty so they had a few minutes to talk. The girls were within shouting distance, but couldn't overhear their quiet conversation.

Leah crossed her arms over her chest, aware that the front of her tank top was damp from hugging Alyssa. Although she had a bra on, the white fabric looked transparent and she felt self-conscious.

Brian averted his eyes, as if he'd noticed her wet shirt but was too polite to stare. “One of my mom's boyfriends taught me to surf,” he said, hands in his pockets. “It was the first time I remember feeling safe.”

She studied his face, unable to fathom an experience so opposite her own. Her
worst
childhood memory involved water.

“Out there, it's quiet. Peaceful. You're with other people, but alone. You have to be patient and wait for the right wave to come along. There's no rushing, no pushing. Another surfer can drop in on you and steal your turn, but that's rare, and it's impossible to paddle close enough to get in a fistfight.”

Leah wondered if he'd grown up in an abusive home. She couldn't imagine feeling more at ease in a turbulent ocean than on land. Troubled past aside, he had a calming presence and exuded self-confidence. His easy manner, matched with that unflinching honesty, made him seem kind of invincible.

Some men grew stronger through adversity.

“I first started surfing to escape my problems. Now I think it helps me deal with them. I always feel better when I come in from a session.”

“Cooking is like that for me.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I have certain dishes I make when I need to sort out my thoughts. I like to let my mind go blank and just focus on the task.”

He nodded, pleased that she understood.

“What happened to your mom's boyfriend?” she asked.