The Scarlet Thread (51 page)

“Why
are
you asking?”

“Because I don’t want to see you hurt.”

She gave a bleak laugh. She had never heard such a flimsy

excuse in her life. Especially from him.
“You
hurt me, Alex. Ron

doesn’t have that kind of power over me.”

He leaned toward her, eyes intent, searching. “Don’t go out

with him tonight.”

Looking into those dark depths, she remembered everything

from the past. She knew why he warned her. When they were

young and deeply in love, when her emotions had crested over

some crisis, real or imagined, Alex had been the one to catch the

wave and ride the passion.

“I’m not your concern anymore, Alex. I haven’t been for eight

months.” Why should those words bring that wounded worried

look into his eyes? She felt compelled to set his mind at ease and

gave him a tender smile. “Someone told me to grow up. I have.”

The doorbell rang.

A muscle jerked in his cheek and he stood up. “I’ll tell him

you’re not feeling well.”

She stood as well. “No, you won’t.” Truth have it, she wasn’t, but

she had no intention of leaving Ron high and dry. This fund-raiser

was far too important to him and his work. “I feel fine, Alex.”

“You’re pale.” He turned his head sharply as the door was

unlocked. “What’d you do? Give him a key?”

“Hey, Mom!” Clanton said, barging in. “Aren’t you going to

let Ron in?” He stared at her.
“Wow!”

“You can say that again,” Ron said from right behind him. He

didn’t even notice Alex. He couldn’t have been more open in his

admiration, which went a long way to bolstering her spirits.

Clanton brushed past her in his hurry to dump his soccer gear in

his bedroom.

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“You take my breath away, Sierra,” Ron said, leaning down to

kiss her lightly on the cheek. She felt a touch of sadness that his

compliment didn’t have a fraction of the effect Alex’s had. As

Ron straightened, she saw his expression alter slightly and knew

he had seen her ex-husband. She took his hand deliberately.

“Ron, this is Alex. Alex, I’d like you to meet Ron Peirozo, a

dear friend of mine.”

Ron held out his hand. Alex hesitated for a fraction of a second

before taking it. Neither said anything. They were too busy measuring one another. Sierra knew under other circumstances they

would get along very well. They might even be friends. Right

now, she was the only common ground—and not one that would

bring them together.

Letting go of Ron’s hand, she picked up her purse and gloves.

He took the red cape and laid it over her shoulders. His hands

gripped her arms gently, drawing her a few inches closer to him.

“Ready to go?”

Alex understood the gesture and shoved his hands into his

pockets. “Have a nice evening.”

Sierra walked with Ron to the door. Ron gave Alex a nod as he

opened it for her. “Nice meeting you, Alex.”

“Yeah, likewise.”

She didn’t look back. She didn’t dare.

Ron didn’t mention Alex, nor did she. He spent the drive to

downtown Los Angeles filling her in on the programs at Los Angeles Outreach. “People are going to be asking you questions,”

he said and made sure she knew what was going on.

As she stood beside Ron and greeted guests as they arrived,

she recognized numerous faces and names. Several lingered over

her hand, making fulsome compliments. Ron teased her about it

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to keep some of these animals back.”

She was proud of Ron and impressed by him as he stood at

the podium and gave a flawless and relaxed welcome and presentation. He was as at ease in front of this crowd of socially

elite as he was with the children he found in the ghettos and

beneath the freeways. She knew that those listening to him

would be only too willing to support him and his work. He was

sincere, zealous, and accomplishing a great deal. The young

men and women serving were all “graduates” of the program.

“Talk to them, and they’ll tell you the difference Outreach has

made in their lives. The Lord has blessed us that we might

bless others. . . .”

When the band started playing, Ron led her out onto the dance

floor. “I’ve already had several pledges that’ll cover the next few

months’ expenses,” he said, holding her close. She felt the

warmth of his hand at the small of her back and the brush of his

thighs. He was a good dancer, smooth and graceful, guiding her

expertly. She felt safe and protected in his arms.

After the first dance, she had other partners, all interested

in hearing about Los Angeles Outreach and Ron Peirozo. A

few asked her about her relationship to him. A few just wanted

to get close enough to ask her out. She was flattered but not interested.

Ron danced with her again several times and needled her unmercifully. “I thought you’d succumb to that actor’s charms for

certain,” he said, inclining his head toward a movie star who’d

danced with her several times.

“Are you kidding?”

“I saw you swooning when he took your hand.”

“That was before I spent five minutes with him. The guy’s no

better than a neighborhood masher. He asked me to spend a

weekend in Hawaii with him. Can you believe it?”

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“I believe it. I’ve had a few licentious thoughts of my own

about you this evening. Want to go sailing with me?”

“Knock it off, Peirozo.”

He laughed. “See the gentleman over there talking with

Arlene? He was just asking me if you were taken.”

“Tell him
yes.”

“I already did.” Leaning down, he kissed the curve of her neck.

Alex used to kiss her in the same place. With him, it had always

sent melting heat all through her body and made her knees weak.

With Ron, she didn’t feel anything but the pleasing warmth of

his lips.

She talked with so many people she lost count. She danced

until her feet ached, and she relished every minute of it. On the

drive back to Northridge, Ron talked about the pledges he’d

received and what it would mean to ongoing programs. They’d

made enough money in one evening to cover foundation expenses for the next year.

He pulled into the Haven’s parking lot and shut off the engine

of his Mercedes. Turning to her, he smiled. “Did you have a good

time?”

“Wonderful,” she said, drowsy. She never stayed up past

eleven-thirty, and it was almost two in the morning. She felt the

light brush of his fingers and looked into his eyes. Warmth and

desire were there, unhidden. For one brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to be loved by Ron. “I’d better go in,”

she said softly.

Sensitive to her feelings, Ron touched her cheek lightly and

then got out of the car. He came around and opened her door,

handing her out. They didn’t say anything as they walked along

the pathway to her condo. The porch light was on. She wondered if Alex was asleep on the couch.

Turning to Ron, she thanked him for the lovely evening. “Anytime,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Thanking him

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door. Glancing back, she smiled.

“Good night,” Ron said and headed back along the pathway to

his car.

Not looking into the living room, Sierra closed the door

quietly.

“How was it?” Alex said, snapping Mary Kathryn’s journal

shut and tossing it heedlessly on the hatch-cover table.

The sound of his voice and thump of the book made her jump.

“Wonderful,” she said, turning to him. “How was your evening?”

“Bueno.”
He stood up. He didn’t even look vaguely tired. His

eyes were clear and sharp. “We went out to eat and then rented a

couple of movies.”

“Sounds like fun.” Her stomach knotted with tension at the

look on his face. He was angry, though about what she didn’t

know. And she had no intention of asking. “Well, thank you for

watching the children for me. I appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“You said it would be.” He crossed the living room and stood

in front of her. A small frown briefly puckered his brow as he

studied her face. “I guess I’d better go.”

“Yes,” she said, having difficulty breathing, “I guess you

should.” She looked around. “Did you bring a jacket with you?”

“No.” His mouth tipped in the sensual smile that had turned

her heart over at sixteen. It still had that same effect. “Worried

about me getting cold between here and my condo? I’m only

three doors away.”

“I think you’re warm enough.” She opened the door. “Good

night, Alex.”

He paused in the doorway and looked back at her. “Did he kiss

you good night?”

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She blushed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but
no,
he did

not
kiss me good night.”

Stepping back inside, he cupped the back of her head and

abruptly pulled her forward. Before she could gather her wits,

he leaned down and planted his mouth firmly over hers in a hard,

hot kiss. He released her as suddenly as he’d held her, smiling

sardonically. “You looked like you needed kissing,” he said

roughly.

Sierra stepped back from him, her heart pounding in her ears.

His eyes went dark as they stared into hers. He took another

step toward her. “You still do.”

“Don’t,”
she whispered desperately.

He wasn’t listening. Kicking the door shut with his foot, Alex

caught hold of her and pulled her against his hard chest. His

head came down and he kissed her again, with the same devastating effect she’d experienced the first time on the Mathesen

Street porch so many years ago. He kissed her as though he

never intended to let her go. . . .

For a moment she struggled against him. He dug his hands

into her hair until it was tumbling about her shoulders and down

her back. He kept on kissing her until her insides began to melt

and quake.

Her love and the long months of celibacy and loneliness

worked against her. Physical hunger swept through her. Sweet

memories pulsed.

Oh, God! Oh, God, this is what you meant it to be between a husband

and wife!

Husband.

Wife.

Not anymore.

In the midst of the storm of wonderful sensation came the

army of doubts marching through her fevered brain, armed with

devastation weapons.

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