Crossing Lines (3 page)

“What time can I expect you?”

His temple gave a thump, warning him to lighten up on the teeth gnashing. He didn’t know why he got angry since this was the way conversations normally went with her. No matter what he had going on, her issues always took precedence.

The stress of planning her sister’s wedding and obsessing over every detail made her psychotic. At least, he hoped the wedding was to blame.

He’d hate to wake up and realize she’d been this way all along, and he’d been a blind, oblivious dumbass.

Rather than continuing the dead-end conversation, which would only keep him frustrated and make her whinier, he said, “I’ll get there soon as I can,” then disconnected the call without waiting for a response.

Man, he didn’t want to do this. In a perfect world, he’d go home, grab a beer, hit the couch, and sleep thirty-six hours. But his world was light-years away from perfect, and what he wanted, at least right now, didn’t matter. He needed to follow through on his commitments and get back to Riverside to a house full of people he didn’t know. He sighed and his shoulders slumped so far forward he thought he might cave in on himself. He
needed
to get back to Lizbeth.

With one last glance to the little
folletta
who stormed onto the scene, disrupting his life in the most aggravating yet interesting way, he shoved the shifter into drive and pulled out of the lot.

* * *

Sam slid the piping-hot pizza box onto the kitchen counter, dropped her bag on the end table in the living room, then headed down the hall to her bedroom. Yelling over her shoulder to her five-year-old daughter, Michaela, she said, “Let me change and I’ll be right there to get your pizza.”

Five minutes later, she came back to a kitchen that smelled like the world’s finest pizzeria and found Michy staring at the box like she could eat the pizza through osmosis.

“I’m starving, Mommy.”

Sam slipped a slice of cheese pizza onto Michaela’s plate before grabbing a slice of mighty meaty for herself. “I know, and I’m sorry I was late picking you up. I promise, next time I’ll call and tell Ms. Kay so you won’t be worried.”

Running ten minutes behind was a serious and costly offense in the world of afterschool programs. However, the enormous late fee nor the lecture from the grumpy-faced director were the punch in the gut that left Sam aching for the past half hour.

That was compliments of her daughter.

Michy’s eyes were still red-rimmed—not from crying, but from the extreme effort she’d exerted
not
crying. The poor thing even had teeth marks in her bottom lip from biting down to stop the quivering.

And that’s why Sam nominated herself for the Mommy Fail of the Year Award.

Sam’s little apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and, like her mom, Michy would explode with pain or fear before she let her emotions escape in the form of tears.

“It’s okay,” Michy said through slurps of her soda. “I was just scared something bad happened.”

Michaela started showing signs of insecurity after Sam’s dad died. A year later, when Sam’s piece-of-shit ex disappeared without a backward glance, Michaela turned into a leech. Her anxiety worsened with the move to Myrtle Beach, and Sam should’ve realized how severely her tardiness would affect Michy.

“Sweetie, you’re the most important thing in the world to me. I would never just not show up.”

The internal voice of black butterflies and stormy skies said,
You can’t make those kind of promises. Your dad didn’t
plan
on not showing up for work that morning.

She growled, dismissing the doom-and-gloom thoughts once and for all, but Michy’s reply only intensified the suffocating squeeze in her chest.

“I know. That’s why I thought something bad happened.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “I understand.” She was glad Michy knew she’d never voluntarily abandon her like the son of a bitch Michy called daddy. But she hated the lingering trauma her little girl suffered as a result of Papa’s fatal heart attack and Michael’s abandonment.

There was no way to reassure her daughter something like that wouldn’t happen again. Heart attacks, car crashes, or the millions of other freak accidents that occurred on a daily basis didn’t guarantee a girl wouldn’t suddenly lose a parent. Or any loved one, for that matter.

As Michy grew up and started dating, Sam wouldn’t be able to protect her and make sure she never had her heart broken. But she would do everything in her power to shelter and protect Michy as much as possible while she could, and hope, as a child, she never had to suffer another loss.

The late afternoon thunderstorms dropped the temperature, so Sam had traded her work clothes for sweat pants and a T-shirt. She glanced down at her fuzzy socks as she carried their plates to the living room.

Look at you.
All dressed up and nowhere to go.

For the millionth time since leaving the Vanguard site, she thought of Kevin Mazze. An attractive, intelligent man like him probably spent his weekends attending extravagant parties or dining in upscale restaurants, surrounded by tall, thin supermodel types.

What would it take to get him interested in a short, curvy, less-than-glamorous mom, who spent her evenings at home, watching Disney movies, eating pizza, and drinking beer?

She was a lousy cook, so going by way of his stomach wasn’t an option. Besides, she didn’t want him on a permanent basis. She only wanted him for late-night extracurricular fun.

She glanced to the Vanguard Subdivision folder and site plan sitting with her bag. Maybe they could work something out in trade. She would help him figure out a solution to his problem, and he could show his gratitude by granting her a few dozen orgasms. How was that for sexy romance, guaranteed to drive a man wild?

“Of course I found someone else. Why wouldn’t I find a
real
woman?”

Sam sucked in a breath and dropped to the sofa as Michael’s words rushed at her, knocking her off her feet. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, determined to beat back the autopilot response that always insisted on replaying the entire tape.

Michaela, who had gone to her bedroom to get her pillow and blanket, ran to the sofa and crouched at Sam’s feet. Peeking up from the floor, she asked, “Mommy? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetie. I just lost my balance and tripped.” Sam drew in a ragged breath and set the paper plates on the old, worn-out coffee table that had fallen an inch short of the junkyard finish line. “Eat your pizza, and I’ll get the movie ready.”

Michy sat cross-legged in front of the coffee table and dove into her dinner while Sam carried tonight’s Disney classic,
Beauty and the Beast,
to the DVD player.

“Can we go to the beach tomorrow?”

Bent over at the waist, disc in hand, Sam glanced over her shoulder. “Wow, what a shock. You want to go to the beach?”

Michy giggled and took a bite of her pizza. After sucking in a few quick breaths to cool her burning mouth, she said, “Yeah, but not to the part where we normally go. I want to go to the part that has the fierce wheel.”

Sam grinned and finished loading the disc into the player. “A fierce wheel, huh? Since you don’t even know what that is, why do you want to go there?”

Michy slurped her soda and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Because my friend Spencer’s gonna be there.”

Michaela met Spencer her first day at daycare, and the two became instant friends. For weeks, she asked if he could come over to play, but Sam’s path hadn’t crossed with Spencer’s mom’s to make arrangements. With both of them being single moms, Sam even wondered if Spencer’s mom might be interested in trading weekend babysitting so they each had some free time.

“Is it the fierce wheel at the boardwalk or the other one?” She grinned and winked. “It’s a
Ferris
wheel,”—she narrowed her eyes and growled playfully—“not fierce like I’m going to get if you don’t start using your napkin and stop ruining your shirts!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Michy swiped at her face with the paper and thought for a minute. “He said something about walking.”

Gee, that narrowed it down. She didn’t want to burst her daughter’s bubble, but finding Spencer at the Boardwalk on a Saturday wouldn’t be easy. Granted, the middle of September wouldn’t be nearly as crowded as a few weeks ago, but still…

Oh, what the hell. She didn’t have anything pressing to do, and she wanted to talk to Spencer’s mom anyway. If by some miracle they found them, it would give the two women a chance to talk. The thought of making new friends was damned appealing, and it wouldn’t be a hardship to spend the day at the beach.

“Do you have any idea what time he’s going?”

Michaela’s face dropped and she shook her head.

“It’s okay. We don’t have anything else to do tomorrow. So if you’ll let me sleep in for a while, then we’ll head over there and see if we can find them. Okay?”

“Yay!” Michy grabbed Sam’s leg and squeezed. “You’re the best mommy, ever.”

Sam grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flopped down on the sofa. “Even though I worried you?”

Finished with her pizza, Michy climbed onto the couch, snuggled against Sam’s side, and pulled the blanket over her. “Yep. Still the best.”

Sam smoothed back a rogue curl and rested her cheek on top of Michy’s head. Wouldn’t it be awesome to be five again, with the amazing power to forgive and especially forget so easily? She cut off the lamp beside the sofa and hit PLAY on the remote.

Since she wasn’t five and she didn’t seem able to ever let anything go, she was grateful for the opportunity to fly away to magical kingdoms, where even a beast had hope for finding happily ever after.

K
evin tugged at the tie cinched around his neck like a too-tight leash, desperate for relief from the suffocation that probably had more to do with his life, in general, than the piece of silk in his hand.

The coat and tie were bad, but he took a small measure of comfort in having been spared the cummerbund and bow tie. Point to Lizbeth for dialing back the
required
formality of tonight’s affair. Most of the women, looking for a chance to relive their high school prom, chose to wear long cocktail gowns. Most of the men, probably also hoping to relive their proms by getting laid, went with less formal suits.

Erik Monteague, Kevin’s closest friend and next-door neighbor, ambled over and stopped front and center. He wore his typical smartass smirk and his tone was like dry ice when he said, “Nice party.”

“Only the best for my nearest and dearest,” Kevin said, lifting his glass of shitty wine in salute to the room full of strangers before glancing at his watch. He’d gotten to Riverside as soon as possible, but with the stop in Anticue to check the progress of Gavin’s restaurant, he was two hours late. Even though he had to listen to Lizbeth whine several more times on the phone, God willing, he’d only have two more hours of feeling like an outcast in his own home before he got out of the straight jacket and into a case of beer.

He studied Erik, just as out of place as Kevin, who somehow managed to appear suave and debonair… not like a sausage packed into a too-tight skin. Or a mob hit man.

At least half a dozen men had thrown their hands up in mock surrender and an equal number of women whispered inappropriate comments in his ear about his hidden gun.

Gotta love a party with free booze.

“Why aren’t you turning blue and choking?”

Erik grinned and notched up his chin, showing off the top of his shirt. “Kat lets me leave the top button undone, then fixes the tie so you can’t tell.” He wagged his eyebrows as if to say,
Pretty smart, huh?

His gaze wandered off in search of his pregnant wife. The moment he found her was obvious by the way his eyes softened and the corner of his mouth tweaked. She either met his stare or an eyelash slipped into his eye because he winked, then returned his attention to Kevin. “I know this isn’t your kind of party, but thanks for helping raise funds for Saving Grace. The women’s shelter means a lot to Kat.”

Which was why Kevin had been more than happy to man up and play host, regardless of the dress code. Kat was the best thing that ever happened to Erik, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to say she saved his life. For that reason, Kevin would be forever indebted and would go out of his way to make anything she wanted happen.

“No need to thank me. I just showed up. Lizbeth and Kat did all the work.”

Giant topiaries embellished with large masks sat on either side of a fountain, which had, at some point during the week, been added to his foyer. Not for the first time, he wondered how they got the monstrous thing inside and made a mental note to check for a new entry door. Columns framed the wide front entry and he squinted in the dim light, trying to figure out… “Are those columns attached to the wall?”

Exasperated, he blew out a breath and took a quick gulp of wine, swallowing before the horrendous flavor had time to stick to the inside of his mouth and tarnish his taste buds. “How much is this get-together setting us back?”