When Bruce Met Cyn (7 page)

“No, I was homely. But it was okay because at least Palmer ignored me back then. Occasionally he'd snatch up a weapon and whale on me, but it wasn't all that often.”

Ice ran up Bruce's spine. “A weapon?”

“That's just what I called it.” She rubbed at her left eye, as if the memories pained her. “You know, a shoe, his belt, whatever was handy. One thing about Palmer, he almost never used his bare hands then. That didn't come till I got older.”

Bruce couldn't bear it. He moved his chair closer to hers and put a hand on her shoulder. He had no words to say, no platitudes that could comfort.

She lounged back in her chair, her sardonic mask back in place. “Unfortunately, I couldn't stay a chubby, ugly kid forever. By the time I was sixteen, I'd slimmed down except that I had big boobs and a round butt.” She stared down at her own chest in wry disgust. “Man, I hated these things then, but they've kept me fed since I left.”

Bruce drew a shuddering breath and kept his attention on her face. “A beautiful body is a blessing, not a curse.”

“Spoken as a true guy.” She laughed. “You wouldn't have thought so if you were me.”

“No, I don't suppose I would have.”

“Getting a bod had Palmer looking at me different.”

That statement fell between them like a dead weight, and Cyn waited for his reaction. Bruce knew what she was telling him, and he wished he had Palmer at hand. He'd have given retribution for a young girl's hurt without an ounce of remorse.

Words failed him. “I'm sorry,” he said, and hugged her up against his chest.

He expected some resistance, but instead, she patted his back, as if giving him comfort. “It's okay. It was long ago.”

Hearing about abuse always ripped Bruce up, but this time was worse. His fingers curved around her head, urging it to his shoulder. “He molested you?”

Her fingers moved over his shoulder, smoothing, touching, driving him to distraction. “No. No way. I wouldn't have let him.”

Bruce knew she couldn't have stopped him, but all he said was, “I understand.” And he did.

Somehow, Cyn crawled completely into his lap without Bruce even being aware of it. Once he did realize it, it just felt right to have her there and no way would he budge her from his arms.

“He would have raped me,” she admitted. “It was only a matter of time.” She leaned back to see him. “I only did what I had to do.”

Bruce thought it was a miracle that she hadn't suffered that final insult. He smoothed her cheek to let her know it was okay. “What did you do?”

Her eyes darkened with the realization of all she'd shared. He felt her emotional retreat, but tried not to let it bother him. Trust was a hard thing to give, especially for someone with Cyn's background.

Somehow, Bruce decided he'd earn her trust, and in the bargain, she'd learn that there were other people worthy of trusting.

She stared down at her hand, her fingers spread wide on his chest right over his heart. He felt her breath on his throat, stirring emotions that were at odds with their discussion.

He wanted her. It was shameful to admit, and he wouldn't do anything about it, but it didn't change his feelings. She made him feel more like a man than he had in a decade.

Still touching him with a sort of abstract concentration, she remarked, “As bad as prostitution is, as scary as it got at times, at least it was my choice.” Her hand smoothed up and over his shoulder. Her fingers slid into his hair, her breathing deepened.

As if collecting herself, she shook her head, smiled, and stared into his eyes. “Damn. I should be embarrassed, shouldn't I?”

“Why?” He was hoarse with need, tense with the struggle to control the reactions of his body. Holding her was about the nicest thing he'd done for himself in too many years to count.

“Duh. I'm curled in your lap like a baby, spilling my guts all over the place.”

Bruce kept his hands still on her back, kept his breathing even and low. “I want you to always feel free to talk to me, Cyn.”

With a chuckle, her forehead touched his. “Bruce Almighty,” she teased, and her breathy laugh slipped over his lips. “You're the nicest, but strangest man I've ever known.”

Her teasing eased some of his tension. “Strange, huh?”

She leaned back again, her face bright with humor. “If I sat on any other guy, he'd have a boner prodding my butt and hands going everywhere.”

Under other circumstances, Bruce would have been hard, too. He
was
aroused, just not to the degree of an erection. The suffering of a young girl and his own empathy kept sexual thoughts and feelings under control.

“But you…” She shook her head with endearing bafflement. “You just let me prattle on and on.”

“It's called sharing, and everyone needs to do it sometimes.”

She leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, and Bruce went as still as a concrete block. He didn't even breathe, taken off guard, fighting urges he hadn't suffered in an eon, and grateful for the meaning behind the gesture.

“Thanks,” she whispered. And she pulled away, going back to her own seat.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “I take it our talk is over?”

“Oh yeah, dead, buried, with a tombstone on top.” She took a big bite of her pancakes, and spoke with her mouth full. “I just wanted you to know why I won't take charity. Well, other than this terrific breakfast, that is.”

Don't push, Bruce reminded himself. And still he said, “One more question, and I promise that's it.”

“Shoot.” She took another bite of her breakfast, then hummed in satisfaction. “Good.”

“Where did you come from? What city?”

“Ah ah ah,” she warned. She licked sticky syrup from her lips while gifting him with a look of chastisement. “Good preachers shouldn't snoop.”

“It's not snooping, just idle curiosity.” He didn't count that as an outright lie, because he
was
curious about her. But in truth, he wanted to check into her background, more for her own safety than for any other reason.

“Let's just say Hicksville, Indiana, and leave it at that. I haven't been there in years. I won't ever go there again. When I left, that place and everyone there was dead to me.”

“So where did you go?” If he could at least find out that much, maybe the rest would come.

“Cincinnati. It was far enough.”

Far enough for what? To avoid being taken back? To escape her painful past? Or to escape Palmer Oaks?

“You got any coffee? I need a jolt to get the motor running this morning. It'll probably be easier to find a job if I'm wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.” With a return of cockiness, she winked. “Ladies of the night have a real problem with early mornings.”

“Ex
-ladies of the night.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Bruce checked his watch. “You have time for two cups before I need to head out. I'll drive you into town.”

Cyn stared around the town as Bruce pulled up to the curb in front of a beauty parlor. She didn't see any “Help Wanted” signs on any of the small, quaint establishments, but she wouldn't rule them out. And there was always the strip mall. She had high hopes. She didn't care what the job might be, as long as it didn't involve her stripping naked.

Before now, she'd been afraid to have her social security number registered, afraid to give her full name, afraid to make polite society aware of her in any way. Fear had been a part of her day, her night, her very existence.

But she wouldn't be afraid anymore. Whatever happened, happened. No more running. She trusted Visitation.

Strangely enough, she was starting to trust Bruce Kelly.

He opened her car door for her. Such a gentleman, she thought, amused and touched. He hadn't come on to her, but he had been kind. Did he find her unappealing? Did he consider her good enough to counsel, but beneath his physical notice?

He'd been subdued since their talk, or more appropriately, since she'd kissed him. She hadn't meant to do it. She hadn't even wanted to do it. But at that particular moment in time, she would have given him anything he wanted. Talking with him was so damn liberating, it was like the sun had finally shone down on her.

For years, she'd kept all the pain and unhappiness bottled up inside. The books had helped her to understand it, but dealing with it was different from just understanding. Bruce, God bless him, helped her to deal.

He'd given her what no one else ever had: the freedom to share her darkest secrets. He hadn't been appalled, hadn't passed judgement, hadn't done anything other than listen. And understand.

Of course, he didn't know she'd killed Palmer; that would stretch the bounds of even a saint's understanding.

As Cyn stepped out, agog at the scenery, he asked, “You're sure you're okay on your own?”

She couldn't help but laugh. “You're too funny, Bruce. I've been on my own forever.”

Arms crossed over his wide chest, big, booted feet planted apart, he stood in front of her—a habit she'd already noticed—as if he thought to shield her from the world by his physical bulk. He looked too damn good to be a preacher, too fit and strong, and by the hour, he grew sexier.

“Just because you've been alone doesn't make it right or easy.”

The sun had crawled out from behind the clouds, displaying Visitation in the best possible light. Enormous budding trees were everywhere. Birds, their feathers fluffed to ward off the chill, sat on every branch and telephone wire. Unlike the alleys where she'd worked, the people she'd associated with, everything here looked and smelled clean.

This was a place where miracles could happen; she knew that's what it would take for her to be able to put everything behind her. The sun bright in her eyes, she squinted up at Bruce. “Nothing's ever easy, but I'll make do.”

“Your ankle's not giving you too much trouble?”

“Quit fretting, big boy.” She patted his chest in distraction while noticing the drugstore. “I'll be fine.” Sunglasses were the first order of business.

“You mind if I leave my bag in your car? I want to see if I can find a job before I check into the motel.” She wouldn't start spending her savings without knowing more money would be coming in. If necessary, she'd sleep in the park—as she had on other occasions.

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, glanced around at a few passersby. His fingers were long, his body tanned. His fair hair fell over his wrist, looking silky and warm, before he dropped his arm.

Oh, for crying out loud, Cyn thought. No way was she going to start admiring a guy's damn fingers. “I didn't ask for a cure to world hunger.”

She had the feeling he might ask her to stay with him, and despite what she'd just told herself, she secretly crossed her fingers.

He was powerful, but not aggressive. Proud but not arrogant. And unless he was one hell of an actor, he genuinely liked her without making any attempt to get her in the sack.

In the end, he merely nodded. “That's fine. I'll be in town for a few hours at least.”

If she asked, he'd let her stay with him—she believed that. But Cyn vowed she wouldn't take advantage of him. A week ago, even a few days ago, she wouldn't have hesitated to try to exploit him. Not in a mean way, but in any way that didn't seriously hurt anyone, yet was advantageous to her. That's how she'd survived, how she'd gotten through the days and the nights…

But this was a new life. A new, hopefully better, Cynthia Potter. She was tired of using people, and she was tired of being used.

“Appreciate it.” Still she hesitated, until he glanced at his watch and she realized she was keeping him from an appointment. Dolt. “Okay, then. Catch you here around noon?”

“Great. And good luck.” He turned and trotted across the street to the diner.

They'd just finished breakfast, so why go to the diner? To meet someone? A woman?

Oh God, she was a horrible person. It wasn't any of her damn business who Bruce might be seeing. The last thing she needed right now was the complication of a guy.

Determined to put Bruce from her mind, she walked to the drugstore, favoring her injured ankle only a little. A small bell chimed above the door when she entered, and an older, heavy man with the thickest gray hair she'd ever seen looked at her over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Morning.”

A bit surprised by the brusque but cordial greeting, Cyn nodded. “Good morning.”

“Can I help you find anything?”

There was no leer on his face, just a pleasant smile and maybe a touch of curiosity. Huh. Maybe her clothes were like Superman's glasses—one hell of a disguise.

She grinned. “Two things. Cheap sunglasses first.”

He walked out from behind his counter and strode to a rotating rack. “Just got a bunch in. Whaddaya think?”

Cyn eyed the glasses, chose a mirrored pair, and checked to make sure they weren't too costly. She slipped them on.

“Handsome,” the older man said in approval, and Cyn actually laughed. No one had ever used quite that term to describe her. The day, which had started out pretty gloomy, was going great so far.

“All right. I'll take these.” She handed them back to him.

He said, “And a wrap for your ankle?”

“Excuse me?”

“Saw you were limping.” He moved to a shelf of medical supplies and took down an ACE Bandage. “Wrap it up good with this for support. It'll help.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. I'll take that, too, then.”

“Anything else?”

Cyn realized she was nervous, which was dumb, except that she'd never asked for an honest-to-goodness, legitimate job. Forcing herself not to stammer, she met his gaze and said, “I'm looking for work. I didn't see a sign, but I was hoping—”

He turned and headed for the register. “You new to town?”

“Just got in last night. I was hoping to find a job first thing today. I'm not picky. I can clean, run the register—”

“Sorry, but I don't really need any help right now. Come the summer, I'll be hiring part-time help if you're interested then.” He rang up the glasses and bandage and gave her the price.

Deflated, Cyn dug in her purse and handed him money. She kept a spot of spending cash in her wallet, with the rest still safely hidden away in the lining of her purse. “Do you know anyone who might be hiring now?”

He tugged at his ear. “The restaurant was, a while back, but I think they found someone already. You could check the mall, but it's slow for them right now. And there's always the lake. Joe and Luna will do a lot of business this summer, so they might be gearing up already. Worth a try.”

The bell chimed again and more customers walked in. Cyn glanced over her shoulder, and discovered two men giving her the once-over. One of them gave a silent whistle and nudged the other.

Now
that
she expected. Idiots. She turned back to the pharmacist.

He was kind enough to give her directions to the lake. The biggest problem Cyn could see was the distance. Walking was impossible. It'd take her half a day just to get there. She wouldn't mind a bus; it was how she'd gotten around before. But far as she could tell, Visitation didn't have much in the way of public transportation.

In the next two hours, she tried the beauty salon, the hardware store, the grocery and a pastry shop. Male managers at the grocery and the hardware store let her leave applications, but mostly just so they could question her with heated gazes and loose lips and a lot of speculation. She did her best to behave properly, despite the urge to tell them off.

In the mall, she filled out applications everywhere, but as the pharmacist had told her, no one was hiring at the moment. She suffered through several pick-up lines, a few come-ons, and more leering. The nicer people suggested she come back in early June, when they'd be picking up summer help.

Cyn headed for the diner. She'd used up so much time already—Bruce would soon be leaving and she needed to get her bag out of his car. He wasn't outside when she reached the diner, so she went in.

She spotted Bruce right off.

He was so big and so handsome, he naturally stood out in a crowd. He lingered near a table with a tall, very beautiful blonde on his arm. From what Cyn could tell, the woman was about to leave. Then Bruce leaned forward, cupped the back of her neck, and kissed her right on the mouth. And what a kiss. It might have been brief, but anyone looking, and several smiling people were, could see he was a natural-born sensualist.

He'd all but turned to ice when
she'd
kissed him, but for this other woman, this amazon, he was all smoky machismo.

Cyn felt…betrayed.

It was stupid. Beyond stupid. Not once had Bruce told her he was available, and even if he had been, she wasn't the type a preacher got involved with.

But he could have explained that he had a relationship. She'd opened her heart to him and he'd listened…but of course, he'd done the same for a lot of hookers. And that's probably all she was to him—some pathetic scrap of humanity he wanted to help because that's what he did. He helped people like her.

She felt sick, demoralized—then annoyed.

After all, he was a
preacher,
for crying out loud, or so he'd claimed. What did he think he was doing, indulging in blatant public displays of affection?

Before the woman could leave, Cyn marched in—that is, she marched as much as someone could with a painful ankle. She heard a whistle behind her, felt eyes on her back, but she easily dismissed them all. Her gaze was locked on Bruce as she made her way forward around tables and patrons and a few harried waitresses. When she stopped in front of him, he merely looked at her, one brow raised.

Cyn could feel the other woman, as tall as Bruce, staring down at her.

“I need my things from your car.”

Bruce said, “Excuse me?”

All his natural warmth and open caring were gone. His dark eyes no longer seemed gently accepting, but rather sharp, as if an inherent danger simmered just below the surface of his handsome façade.

If he wanted to warn her off, he could forget it. She wasn't afraid of him.

Cyn cocked out a hip and readjusted her purse strap. “No job yet, but I don't want to hold you up. Don't worry, I'll find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I won't bother you.” Her gaze slanted toward the blond bombshell. “Either of you.”

Strangely enough, the blonde became purely titillated. “Where, exactly, did you sleep last night?”

Cyn frowned, a little thrown by the woman's wide smile and delighted attitude. She tipped her head toward Bruce. “At his place.”
With him.
She sniffed. “He was a complete gentleman.”

Laughing, the woman said, “Oh, I never doubted that. But you say you slept in his house? That's incredible.”

Instead of leaving, as she'd been about to do, she gestured to a chair. “Please, why don't you join us and then you can tell us all about last night.”

 

Bryan Kelly took in the petite confection fuming her discontent beside his wife. She was short, but then standing next to Shay, most women looked short. She was also stunning.

A thick, glossy black braid hung over her shoulder. Her tilted cat eyes, challenging him with a bold stare, were incredibly sexy and the lightest blue he'd ever seen.

He thought, no, it couldn't be. And still he asked, “Are you by any chance confusing me with my brother?”

Those sensual eyes widened. Lush lips parted. And a slim, pale throat worked as she swallowed.

Yeah, she had killer looks, but…Bruce didn't care about that. His brother had been around plenty of attractive women and had barely given them a second look.

The little sweetheart groaned. “Oh, no. He couldn't…you couldn't…” She gave a wan smile. “Your brother, you say?”

Oh, this was rich. “Bruce. Looks just like me.” Bryan grinned, then reached for Shay and pulled her into his side. “Hard as it is to believe, it had to be Bruce, because honey, I slept with my wife last night.”

Her sooty lashes sank down until her eyes had closed in an expression of pained embarrassment. “Oh, shit—I mean, shoot.”

Snickering, still grinning like a loon, Shay patted her shoulder. “I made the same mistake many times. Even kissed the wrong brother once.”

Bryan didn't like that reminder. He glared at Shay, but she wasn't paying him any attention.

“Come on,” Shay said again, “join us.” After all but forcing the poor girl into a chair, Shay dropped into her own and said, “Bryan, sit. You're making her nervous looming over her like that.”

Bryan snorted. “Never worked on you.”

“You don't loom over me.”

“I'm sorry,” the girl interjected in a disconcerted rush. “I thought…” She stared at Bryan and shook her head. “You two look
exactly
alike. Well…” She looked at him a little closer. “Maybe there's a slight difference in the eyes. Yours are…”