Love Enough For Two (Love Inspired) (10 page)

She lifted her chin. “I’m obstinate because I won’t fall into bed with you?”

Matt groaned to himself. Why did she keep saying they’d just met? They’d known each other now for what seemed like weeks. And their parents had known each other for years. It wasn’t as if they were strangers. “I don’t want to do that, either.”

Sierra lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“I feel a connection with you,” he admitted.

“How can you feel a connection with someone you just met?” she asked.

“We didn’t just meet,” he said emphasizing each word through gritted teeth. “Anyway, there’s more to feeling connected than knowing someone’s voting record. Take Carl for example. Would you say he knows you?”

“What does he have to do with this?”

“Humor me,” Matt said.

“Okay, yes, he knows me,” Sierra said.

“And you know him?” Matt persisted. “You know his feelings on politics, current events, religion?”

“I’ve listened to a lot of sermons,” she said. “I’ve been in his Bible Study groups. And his views on the major issues are clear.”

“But you still don’t want to kiss him.”

Sierra frowned. “I’ve told you before that I’m not attracted to Carl. Not in that way.”

“But you are to me,” he said triumphantly.

“I don’t see the point,” Sierra said.

“It doesn’t matter how long or how well you know someone,” Matt said. “When you’re talking about being connected, what matters is the chemistry.”

“Chemistry is part of it, but not all,” Sierra insisted. “You have to know what makes someone tick to feel truly close to them. Chemistry alone can’t sustain a relationship.”

Matt stared at her for a long moment, realizing finally that she was going to make this as difficult as possible. “Have I told you that I’m deeply committed to preserving the environment? Or that I’m not a Socialist. I’m actually an Independent. And, in case you’re wondering about church affiliation, I’m a member of Brentwood Christian.”

The lines of concentration deepened along her eyebrows and under her eyes. “Matt, that kind of information is fine and dandy, but it’s not enough.”

“That was preliminary,” he said quickly. “If there’s anything else you want to know, just ask.”

“I can ask anything?” The assessing look in her eye took him by surprise.

“Anything that’s not protected by attorney-client privilege,” he said.

“Hmm.” A finger rose to her lips and she thought for a moment.

His sense of unease increased with each passing second but he told himself he was being foolish. After all, she’d probably just ask the same old questions all women asked. Things like what was his birthday? His favorite food or color? What was his favorite sports team? The possibilities were endless.

Sierra took another sip of cocoa and leaned back, her fingers embracing the mug. “What was it like when your mother left?”

W
hat was it like? What did she think it was like?

Matt picked up the mug in front of him and took a big drink. The hot cocoa seared his throat, but he relished the pain. Obviously, Sierra didn’t realize he never talked about that time in his life. Not to Tori, not to his father, not to anyone.

He thought about telling her it was too personal, or that it was none of her business, but then he remembered his promise. He’d always been a man of his word, so he’d answer her question. But he’d keep it short and sweet.

“It was hard. One day she was there. The next she was gone.” He relayed the events as if he was an impartial observer. “My sister cried herself to sleep for months. My dad buried himself in his work.”

“And you?” she prompted.

“I did the best I could to comfort my sister.” The memory of Tori’s heartbreak stood vivid in his mind. “And to stay out of my dad’s way.”

His father had said something to the effect of “good riddance to bad rubbish” but Matt knew his mother’s leaving had hit him hard. Not only had she taken a good chunk of his bank account with her, she’d left him with two kids he barely knew.

“You were there for your sister.” Sierra placed a hand on his arm. “Who was there for you?”

“I did okay on my own.” He’d been strong and had taken her leaving like a man, as his father had instructed.

But there’d been nights, when he was sure no one would overhear, that he’d cried. And as angry as he’d been at her for leaving, he still missed her. Missed the way she tousled his hair and called him “sport.” Missed the way she sang silly songs in the car. But, most of all, he missed the way she used to hug him and say she loved him, even when he tried to pull away.

Even now his heart clenched, remembering.

“When my father left,” Sierra said, “my faith was a real blessing.”

“Our minister came over after my mother took off, but he and my father got into an argument. Dad told him that you can only count on yourself,” Matt said. “Said this was a prime example why a person shouldn’t put their faith in anyone but themselves. Needless to say, the pastor didn’t agree.”

“What do you believe?” Sierra asked softly.

Matt steeled his heart against the compassion in her voice. Though he’d always believed there was no value in rehashing the past, it felt good to talk about that time. Especially with someone like Sierra who listened rather than telling him what he should think or feel.

“I believe that most of the time, given the chance, people will disappoint you,” Matt said.

An odd look crossed her face and he wondered if he should have been so honest. For a second he thought she was going to argue the point. Instead, she took another sip of cocoa. “Do you see your mother now?”

“I haven’t seen her since the day she walked out the door,” Matt said. “What really galls me is now she thinks she can come back, say she’s sorry and—”

Matt stopped short, realizing too late that he’d said too much. But those blasted letters from her kept coming and though he told himself he should just throw them into the trash unread, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Not after all those years of checking the mailbox every day, hoping she’d written.

“You can’t forgive her.”

“She doesn’t deserve to be forgiven,” Matt said flatly.

“Grace is something
needed
but not
deserved,
” Sierra said, and he found himself wondering if they were just words or if she really believed them. “We didn’t deserve to be forgiven, but God forgave us. Can we do any less for others?”

It was ironic, Matt thought, that the things that were so hard in life always sounded so simple. He fixed his gaze on Sierra. “Have you forgiven the man who hurt you?”

Sierra lowered her gaze to the mug on the table and after a long moment, shook her head.

“Then you understand,” he said in a low tone, “how hard it can be to do the right thing.”

“I do.” Sierra sighed. “And I’m beginning to realize that you and I have more in common than I thought.”

“That’s good,” Matt said.

“I’m not so sure,” Sierra murmured.

The sentiment took Matt by surprise. He frowned. “I thought that you wanted to get to know me.”

“I did,” she said. “But somehow I thought I’d like you less, not more.”

The tightness that had gripped Matt’s shoulders eased and his lips curved upward in a smug smile. “I knew you liked me.”

“Arrogant jerk,” she shot back, but there was no rancor in her tone.

“Piggy.” Matt chuckled and said it a couple more times for good measure. “Piggy. Piggy.”

Sierra’s eyes widened. “What did you call me?”

“Piggy,” he repeated, his mood lightening by the minute.

Her gaze narrowed.

“Hey, I find oinking incredibly attractive,” he added.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Why does it not surprise me that you found a way to steer the conversation back to our little problem?”

He shot her a wink. “Babe, when I’m with you, I can’t think of much else.”

She paused for a long moment then leaned forward and rested her arms on the tabletop. “Don’t you see that jumping into an intimate relationship would be settling for less than you deserve?”

Matt stifled a groan. He’d had enough of the heavy conversation for one evening.

“Don’t you want to save such intimacy for someone who loves you? Someone you can trust? Someone who has pledged before God to be by your side forever?”

Matt’s eyebrows pulled together. “You’re talking marriage?”

Sierra nodded.

“Marriage is a wonderful concept,” he said. “But if you think saying vows in a church means that someone will always be there for you, I’m here to tell you it just ain’t so. People bail on their spouses and children everyday.”

“I could never leave my child,” Sierra said vehemently. “Never.”

“But what about a husband?” Matt kept his tone even. “Can you sit there and tell me that no matter what, if you married someone you’d never leave him?”

“There are certain circumstances—”

“Then you agree that marriage and a ring on your finger doesn’t guarantee anything,” Matt said wishing they were both a little less cynical.

Sierra shifted her gaze out over the darkened yard. When she’d married Jerry, she intended it to be forever. But she couldn’t remain with a man who not only didn’t respect his marriage vows, but who could hurt his own child.

But Matt was right about one thing. In the end, all the promises she and Jerry had made in front of God on that beautiful June day meant nothing.

“You’re right,” Sierra said, unable to stem the wave of sadness washing over her. “There are no guarantees.”

“We’re thinking too much.” Matt leaned forward and took her hand. “How about we just enjoy the moment?”

Despite the shiver that traveled up her spine at Matt’s touch, Sierra refused to go down that road.

“I’m afraid I’m not a live-in-the-moment kind of gal.” Though she knew she was making the right decision, Sierra couldn’t keep a twinge of regret from her tone. “I’m the ring-on-my finger-before-intimacy type.”

“You want to get married?”

The shocked look on Matt’s face made her laugh.

“Someday,” Sierra said, waving one hand dismissively in the air. “Not now. And, you don’t have a thing to worry about. I’m definitely not out to marry you.”

“Why not?” Instead of being relieved that she wasn’t on a manhunt with him in her sights, he sounded affronted. “I’ve been told by some that I’m considered a good catch.”

“I’m sure you are,” Sierra murmured. “For the right woman.”

“But not you?”

Sierra shrugged.

“I know how to cook spaghetti,” Matt said. “And I make great garlic bread.”

Sierra couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re such a piggy,” he answered.

She didn’t know what made her do it. Impulsively she opened her mouth and oinked.

But he didn’t laugh as she’d expected. Instead, his eyes darkened and he leaned close. So close she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes and smell the enticing scent of his cologne.

“I told you what that sound does to me.”

Sierra was unable to stop the thrill of excitement that raced through her at the look in his eyes.

Matt rose and leaned over, pulling her up from her chair with one hand before sitting down and tugging her into his lap. His arms closed around her. “I could kiss you all night.”

“You’re not spending the night.”

“Okay.” He nibbled her ear. “Let me rephrase. I could kiss you for hours.”

Sierra was glad she was sitting because just the thought made her go weak in the knees.

“If we kiss, you have to promise you’ll keep your hands to yourself,” she said, inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne.

“Spoilsport,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

Her breath caught in her throat. “All we do is kiss.”

His only response was to lift his head and shift his attention back to her ear. “You certainly have a lot of requests,” he murmured, moving from her ear to scatter kisses along her jawline. “Good thing I’m an understanding guy.”

“Understanding?” she asked, catching her breath.

The hand at her neck urged her to him, and warm, sweet lips brushed her mouth. “It’s just one of my many virtues.”

His hands moved on her shoulders, caressing against her shirt, his palms learning the softness of her upper arms, his thumbs following the delicacy of her collarbone.

Sierra’s breath caught in her throat and Matt chuckled, his arms encircling her, pulling T-shirt against tux. What she and Matt had was pure physical attraction. It wasn’t a forever kind of thing.

But Sierra would revel in every blissful moment.

Until the summer ended and he was gone.

“M
y life is a lot like fraternizing with the enemy,” Sierra told Libby three weeks later when the two met for lunch.

Libby’s fork dropped into her mandarin-orange salad and a look of alarm filled her gaze. “Jerry is stalking you?”

It took Sierra a second to figure out why Libby would make such an off-the-wall comment. Once she did, she had to laugh. “I’m not talking about Jerry.”

And, actually Jerry was the last thing Sierra wanted to think about, much less discuss. She’d received another “forgive me” message on her voice mail this morning and only by sheer will had she kept from letting it ruin her day.

Libby exhaled an audible breath. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Matt and I.” The moment the words were spoken she realized how second nature they’d become. In the past few weeks she and Matt had become an item; going to movies, meeting for lunch at the park, hammering out details related to the Advocacy Center over dinner. And kissing until her senses reeled. “I feel so guilty.”

Libby’s blue eyes widened and she leaned forward. When she spoke her voice was so low, Sierra could barely hear the question. “Are you telling me you finally gave in to him?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” Sierra said a trifle impatiently. “I just meant that hanging out with Matt is like hanging out with your enemy.”

“You and he seem pretty tight for enemies,” Libby observed.

That was the problem, Sierra thought. Every day they grew closer. She enjoyed talking to him, visiting about his day, telling him about hers.

“We have fun,” Sierra said. “But every so often I have to pinch myself and remember that he’s Lawrence Dixon’s son.”

Libby shrugged. “Everybody is somebody’s son. And when you think about it, Dix was only doing his job.”

“Matt isn’t a believer,” Sierra said. “And you know how important that is to me.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Libby said. “But haven’t you two gone to church together the last few weeks and didn’t you tell me that he’s agreed to go to the Praise Festival this weekend?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sierra said.

“Maybe he and God are back on good terms,” Libby said. “Why else would he agree to go?”

“I don’t know,” Sierra said.

“Maybe you need to ask him,” Libby said. “You two need to do more than just kiss when you’re together.”

Despite her friend’s teasing tone Sierra could feel her face warm in a guilty flush. “We do talk.”

Libby laughed, clearly enjoying her friend’s discomfort. “Then talk about things that are important to you. Talk about his faith. See where he stands.”

Sierra exhaled a breath. While Matt had more than once tried to steer the conversation around to more serious topics she’d been the one intent on keeping things light. “I suppose I could ask.”

“What about kids?” Libby asked. “Does he like kids?”

“I’m not sure,” Sierra said. “I don’t recall us seeing many children when we’re together.”

“That’s cuz you were too busy kissing to notice,” Libby said with an impish smile.

“Shut up.” Sierra chuckled. “You and Carson do your share of locking lips, and don’t tell me different.”

“True.” Libby’s gaze turned dreamy. “He’s a great kisser.”

“Are you two talking about the future?”

Like Sierra, her friend had gone into this summer romance with her boss with a no-strings-attached understanding. But lately Sierra had sensed a change.

“Not really,” Libby said.

“That’s because you spend too much time kissing,” Sierra teased.

Libby burst our laughing. “Point taken.”

“You ladies look like you’re having a good time.”

Sierra’s head jerked in the direction of the familiar voice, her heart automatically picking up speed.

Matt stood next to the table, looking positively delectable in a pair of worn blue jeans and a plain white shirt that did wonderful things for his tan.

“Doesn’t look like you’re working today,” Sierra observed, the inane comment giving her the time she needed to recover her balance which had been unexpectedly rocked by the sight of him standing there, his blue eyes a little sleepy, his dark hair appealingly tousled, and all of him blatantly, appealingly masculine.

He smiled, showing a mouthful of perfect white teeth. “I was up late working on some cases and slept in. I stopped by the store to see if you wanted to go to lunch, but Dottie told me you’d already left.”

His gaze shifted to Libby and he smiled, clearly appreciating Libby’s beauty.

A faint stirring of what felt like jealousy rose up in Sierra, but she shoved it down. She had no claim on Matt.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met,” Matt stuck out his hand. “Matt Dixon.”

“Libby Summers,” Libby said, taking his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

Libby cast Sierra an apologetic glance. “I’m afraid I need to rush. Carson gets cranky if I take too long.”

“Carson?” Matt asked.

“My boss.” Libby rolled her eyes. “I work at the Waterfront and he thinks an hour and a half is more than enough time for lunch.”

Sierra smiled. Libby always made it sound like she worked for a slave driver. But Sierra had met Carson. Not only was he nice, but Sierra thought his request that Libby be on time in the morning and limit her lunch hour to ninety minutes was perfectly reasonable.

“Are you a waitress?” Matt asked.

“I tried, but it was a disaster,” Libby said with a rueful laugh. “Now I’m stuck doing payroll and scheduling. Boring with a capital
B.
”

“I’m currently interviewing receptionists for our Santa Barbara office,” Matt said. “If you’re interested I—”

“Thanks, but don’t worry about me,” Libby said, her brilliant smile softening the refusal. Her gaze lowered to her watch and she yelped and jumped to her feet. “I didn’t realize it was
this
late. If I don’t get going now, I might need another job.”

“If you change your mind,” Matt called after her, “let Sierra know.”

“Thanks,” Libby called back, clattering down the walk in her high-heeled sandals.

Sierra shook her head. Libby somehow always managed to look cool and elegant no matter what the circumstance.

“Now that I’ve scared your luncheon companion off,” Matt said, with that smile that made her heart do flip-flops, “mind if I join you?”

Sierra smiled and gestured to Libby’s empty chair. “Please do.”

Though she’d enjoyed her lunch with Libby, Sierra found she rather liked the curious humming excitement that now coursed through her.

The waiter brought Matt a menu and while he studied it, Sierra’s gaze shifted to the tourists ambling down State Street, children and shopping bags in hand.

Her gaze fixed on a father with a preschool-age boy and a girl about seven. The man stood on the sidewalk, just outside of the restaurant’s cordoned-off area furiously digging in his pockets. Given the rapidly melting cones that each child held, Sierra guessed the dad was searching for a napkin.

Sierra cringed. Any mother knew you should never get a double-dip in this heat. There was no way a small child could eat it fast enough to keep it from dripping. And even with a single, the napkins had to be in hand and ready to wipe.

Matt noticed Sierra staring and followed the direction of her gaze. Though they were built completely differently and didn’t look at all the same, the man reminded Matt of his father. Dix was a master in the courtroom but put him in charge of a couple of kids and he was clueless.

“Look at that guy,” Matt said, remembering how frustrated his father would get when their planned “together time” fell apart. “He looks miserable.”

Sierra glanced back at the man who’d finally found the elusive napkin. He looked harried as any person facing dripping chocolate would be, but not especially miserable.

“I bet he drives a minivan,” Matt mused, remembering how his father had bought one after his mother had left. Dix had hated the vehicle with a passion, though both Matt and Tori had loved it.

“You’ll have one, too, someday,” Sierra told him. “They’re great when you have children.”

“If you want kids,” Matt said. It had been an automatic comment of his for years, one he said without even thinking anymore. But as the words left his mouth, he realized the sentiment might no longer be accurate.

The more he was around Sierra, the more he found himself wondering what it would be like to have a little boy with her blond hair or a little girl with green eyes. Sierra was so warm and nurturing that he felt certain she would be a good mother. And, maybe, given time, he could learn how to be a good father.

“You don’t want children?” Her voice rose with surprise.

Matt realized with his quick response he’d given her the wrong impression, so he qualified his answer. “My own someday, but definitely no step-children.”

“Really?” Sierra choked on her tea but waved away his offer of a napkin.

“That’s a hard road,” he said, warming to the topic. “I see it every day in the divorces I handle. It’s hard to raise another man’s children. That’s why I’ve always made it a point not to date a woman with children.”

“Sort of the old, don’t date anyone you wouldn’t want to marry rule?” Sierra added in a light tone.

Matt nodded, glad it no longer mattered because sitting across from him was the only woman he wanted. One who was perfect for him. “I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but it makes sense.”

Sierra carefully placed her glass of tea back on the tabletop and tried to ignore the sudden tightness gripping her heart. She told herself it didn’t matter what Matt thought of children or even dating a woman with children. Despite a few silly daydreams, she’d always known they’d never be together forever.

“Johnny, listen to me.” The father’s voice rose in frustration.

Matt and Sierra shifted their gazes at the same time.

The dad still stood in the same place only now his hand was outstretched holding a napkin. “Wipe your hands.”

The cone had disappeared but sticky dark chocolate smears covered the boy’s hands and face. When the bright-eyed towhead raised his hands and stared at them, Sierra could see the writing on the wall.

Smiling broadly, the child wiped his hands down the front of his shirt.

The father groaned and raised his eyes toward the heavens.

The girl giggled.

The little boy beamed in pride. “All clean.”

Matt shook his head. “All I can say is I’m glad it’s not me.”

A week later, Sierra was still thinking of the incident when she stole one last look in Maddie’s bedroom. Okay, so Matt doesn’t like kids. What did it matter, anyway?

Though Sierra had tried to be blasé, the realization had knocked her for a loop. Because somehow, without her realizing how or why, she’d grown incredibly fond of the guy. He could be exasperating and tenacious as a bulldog when he thought he was right, but he could also be funny and kind.

But none of that mattered. She and Maddie were a team. Love me, love my daughter was her mantra. On that there would be no compromise.

The ring of the phone jarred Sierra from her reverie and she raced down the hall, determined to get the phone before it woke Maddie.

Sierra grabbed the phone on the fifth ring, her heart pounding from her sprint. “Hello.”

“Hello yourself.” Matt’s familiar voice filled the phone line. “Busy?”

“Not at this moment,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

“I want to see you,” he said. “I was going to just drop by, but I remembered what you’d said about calling first.”

Sierra smiled at the pained tone in his voice. She’d made it clear on more than one occasion that she didn’t appreciate unexpected guests. Actually she didn’t mind if people dropped over, she just didn’t want him to unexpectedly stop over and find Libby occupying the house he thought was hers.

“I’d like to see you,” he repeated when she didn’t respond.

“I thought we were planning on lunch tomorrow,” Sierra said, leaning back against a nearby chair.

“Tomorrow is hours away,” he said.

“Matt.” Sierra lowered her voice, not wanting to take the chance on waking Maddie. “You can’t come over.”

“Why not?”

“You just can’t.”

“Someone is there with you,” he said, and she wondered if she just imagined the unexpected hitch in his voice.

“Yes,” Sierra said immediately, then caught herself. “I mean no. I mean someone
is
here, but it’s not what you’re thinking….”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, his tone now cool and distant. “You don’t owe me anything.”

But he was wrong.

She did owe him something.

She owed him the truth.