The Man From Her Past (14 page)

“Maybe seeing me was painful when he couldn’t be with you.” He shut the door behind them. “I felt that way, too.”

“How, Van?”

“How?”

She took a deep breath. “How did you keep feeling that way? I tried to put you behind me.”

His smile was a balm, teasing, kind. “Don’t think I mooned around for five years, pining for you. I thought I’d moved on.” He switched on the lights. Water, licking at the sides of the slip, looked dark green and thick. “But you’re everywhere for me in Honesty. Beth said many times I either needed to find you and start over or stop thinking about you and learn to love someone else.”

She lifted her hand to the front of her coat. “Funny how much that hurts. I didn’t leave because I wanted to make you suffer. There were days when I wished you’d ignored everything I said.” She pushed her hair away from her face. “Sometimes when I was alone, staring out my window into the darkness because I needed to make sure no one else was staring back at me, I thought—”

“I hate thinking of you being afraid.”

“I thought,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “that you might come, and if you did, I could believe you really loved me.”

He slid his hand between the lapels of his jacket and the snaps popped open, revealing a navy sweater. “Would it have been that easy? If you wanted to test me, why not just tell me what you needed?”

“I didn’t know. I was all feelings, and no feeling at all. Eventually, I focused on Hope and told myself keeping her safe was all that mattered.”

“We’ve both been asleep,” he said. “Five years of unconsciousness, but you and I were meant for each other. We had no one else to turn to.”

“Do you feel that way?” If only she could believe. If only she could close her eyes and…No, he needed her with her eyes wide open.

“Nothing’s changed since the other night, Cass. I still don’t want you back because you think I’m the only one you’d feel safe with.” He flung the door open. “Not that it matters, since you don’t even feel safe with me.”

Footsteps echoed on the dock outside. Cassie moved to the door. “Hope,” she said. “Or Dad.”

Sheriff Tom Drake, his hand on the holstered pistol at his side, appeared in the doorway.

Cassie fought an illogical compulsion to laugh. “Hi, Tom.”

“What are you two doing here? McCauley, down the lake, said someone was vandalizing your father’s boathouse again.”

“We weren’t vandalizing.” Cassie felt like a teenager, caught making out in a car.

“Do you know it’s snowing? Santa’s on his way. Go home, the pair of you, and don’t drag me out in this weather again.”

“We’re on our way,” Van said. “Sorry, Tom.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I gave my deputies the night off because they all have kids. I’m feeling left out myself. If I had a boathouse, I might go wallow with a little Christmas spirit and mull over the state of my life.”

Cassie shot him a sharp look, her mouth open to deny doing anything of the sort, but Sheriff Drake was right.

She’d become a parent to her father.

She’d brought her daughter to a place where adult gossip made her think she needed to kick the crap out of a kid because her mommy had stopped a “bad man” that way. Cassie was going to have to help Hope find a better way to face that challenge during her time in Honesty.

She glanced back at Van—the man she loved, still. Always.

Tom waited for him, and Van waited for Cassie to walk out of the boathouse. She hit the light switch, to keep Van from seeing the truth in her eyes.

Tom’s flashlight was more a beacon, no doubt visible from the International Space Station. He lit the way up the slight rise to the road, but Cassie had left her own flashlight in the boathouse, and she climbed in total darkness.

She knew what she had to do. She’d seen a rape counselor and a psychologist for three years, but his training hadn’t taken as well as her martial arts instructor’s.

Her body had the right instincts. That night at the shelter, she hadn’t thought. She’d simply responded to the danger to her and her child and her charges. Her body hadn’t needed any input from her mind or her heart.

Her heart, her mind—they’d had equally intense training, but no one could break down the fear that held her immobile, unable to trust.

At the top of the hill, Van turned toward his car. “Night, Tom. Cass, I’ll stop by tomorrow to see Leo and Hope, if you don’t mind.”

Now or never. Take her own battering ram to the doors she’d shut on trusting any man ever again, or just live behind them.

The thing was, there’d been someone to knock down—someone to stop in the attack on the shelter. How did she stop herself?

How could she wake herself from five years of stupor and start living again?

S
ILENCE FILLED
his house like a poisonous fog absorbing every molecule of oxygen. He roamed from room to room, lost and alone.

He should have followed Cassie to Washington. He should have planted himself on her doorstep so that she had to tire of stepping over him or invite him in.

Five years later, she could hardly be clearer about being through with him. The worst part was that he hated to think of her alone for the rest of her life.

Who was he kidding? She’d meet someone. She was a good, loving woman, still capable of great happiness, of laughing with her daughter and her father. Somewhere inside, she still had the capacity to love and trust.

She just couldn’t find love and trust enough to be with him again.

Just past midnight, he went to bed. A little after one in the morning, he gave up and climbed out of the twisted sheets. Downstairs, he started a blaze in the living room fireplace and made a pot of coffee. Then he sat in front of the TV, watching Santa progress reports and a snooker tournament taped in Liverpool last spring.

When the doorbell rang, he discovered how it felt to jump out of his skin.

His thoughts went to Beth and her family as he hurried to the door. The woman outside, shivering in jeans and a sweater too light for the weather, had once been his wife, but the fear in her eyes made her a stranger.

“Don’t send me away, Van.”

“Are you nuts? Come to the fire.”

He led her, vibrating like the strings of a violin, to the hearth, sat her down and wrapped an afghan around her shoulders.

“What are you doing here? Who’s looking after Hope?”

“My dad. He’s alert when he’s with her, and I left my cell number on his door with a note that he should call me if she woke up.”

She huddled into the blanket, her teeth chattering. “This wasn’t part of my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“I meant to walk in, drag you to the bedroom and show you I can be a wife again.”

He stared at her. It wasn’t that she’d never dragged him to the bedroom before.

“But the house has changed so much, I stood out there staring at it and I realized I don’t know where the bedroom is.”

“Same place it always was. I wish you’d been here that night. Who’d make his way into the woods to find anyone here?”

He smiled, sort of. “I’ll always be sorry for being away when you needed me.”

“What would you have done?” She eyed him, and there was more of his Cassie in her gaze. “He had a knife. I was grateful you weren’t here. He might have killed you. He might have—and this is my worst nightmare about that night—he might have made you watch. When I dream about it, you are here, and he makes you watch and then he kills you in front of me.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, streaking her cold, dry skin. “I’m humiliated, and I know how it feels to have no control over your body, but the worst thing would have been to lose you, too.”

“Are you blind, Cassie? You did lose me. You threw me out. You threw me away.”

A sob escaped her—as if she didn’t know she was crying.

“I’m sorry.” He knelt in front of her. “Please, I’m sorry. But I’m angry, too. I love you. I always have. I tried to make you believe, and you didn’t want me. I have no right to be angry because you were raped, but I am. You ran away from me.”

“I feel as though it just happened yesterday.” She dropped the afghan and it puddled on the hearth. With her arms around him, she planted her chin on his shoulder. “I thought I had to deal with the rape so I’d love Hope, but I just learned to love her. The rape—I never dealt with it. I can parrot the facts—rape is violence. But I was vulnerable, and I am vulnerable with you. You can hurt me, Van. You can destroy me.”

“I won’t.” He kissed her cheek.

“No—I can’t look at you. Let me finish. I love you. I came here to make love with you, to see if I can be your wife again because I’m asking you to take me back.”

“I hear a condition in your voice.”

“I’m not sure I can do it,” she said. “Be a woman again, and you deserve a woman who can love you in every way.”

“I deserve you. I love you. If you love me at all, we’ll make the rest happen. Eventually.” He pulled back and pressed his hands to either side of her face. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“Yes, I do.” She stood and pulled a packet from her back pocket. “Show me the bedroom.”

“Cassie.” He stared at her. With red, wet cheeks, her hair in clotted strands around her face and a runny nose, she was still the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. “As attractive as your offer is, I’m not sure you’re setting the right mood for a seduction.”

“Mood?” She mopped her face and tried to smooth her hair. As if she could see herself, she dropped her hands to her sides. “We’ll have to do without mood. Are you willing to try with me?”

He caught up and held her close. “I’m willing to seduce you.” He kissed her, and her mouth met his, her eagerness not feigned. He knew her that well. His breathing was harsh as he lifted his head. “Or to hold you, if that’s what you want in the end.”

She walked to the stairs, her hand holding his. “What did you do to the bedroom?”

Renovations weren’t terribly seductive, either. “I made it bigger and we have a bathroom whose windows will never steam up. We’d need a lot bigger water heater.”

She laughed with tear-sodden reluctance, but his pulse hammered. She could laugh when she was offering herself like a sacrifice. Maybe they still stood a slight chance.

“We,” she said. “I like that.”

“Me, too.”

At the top of the stairs, she hesitated. He waited, not breathing. At last she started down the hall, and he followed.

“One thing we’re not counting on,” he said.

She turned, flight already in her eyes.

“What if I can’t make love to a woman who’s forcing herself? Wait—this isn’t hypothetical. It’s totally personal. What if I can’t make love to you because you’re forcing yourself? This is a road map back to our old problem. I don’t want to hurt you, but I sure as hell don’t want you to assume I don’t want you.”

She shook her head. “I’ll know if I can—” She broke off. “Talking so much is embarrassing.”

“I can help you with that.” They reached his room. His clothes on the floor and his bunched up sheets weren’t any more inviting than Cassie’s I’m-not-sure approach to a scene he’d rather have set with romance. “Sorry it’s such a mess.”

“Shut up.” She pulled her sweater over her head, and her hair fell to her thin shoulders. With her heart beating so hard, her full, bare breasts trembled. He swallowed.

Maybe he couldn’t do this.

“I can’t undress you,” she said. “Maybe next time.”

The silence between them suggested,
if we have a next time.

He took off his T-shirt. She backed up as if he’d suddenly grown taller.

“I’ll stay right here,” he said.

“For pity’s sake.” She took two steps that brought her nose level with his chest. “I’m going to need some help. Nothing fancy. Just remind me how it all goes.”

He laughed. “Sorry,” he said.

She grinned. “It’s nice to hear.” She reached for the tie on his flannel pajama pants, but her fingers drifted away.

He didn’t let her fade. He reached for the button on her jeans. She sucked in her belly and he dropped to his knees. When he kissed her, just beneath her navel, she cradled his head against her.

He locked his arms around her thighs.

“This is enough for now,” he said.

“Not for me.” Her fingers in his hair made him shiver.

After a second, he pulled her zipper down. She trembled, but she didn’t move as he slid his hands inside her jeans and pulled them down.

“I’m cold, Van.”

“The house is drafty.” Better if they both tried to believe she was cold because of the temperature. He picked her up, something she’d never allowed him to do because she’d been sensitive about being petite.

If she’d been a larger woman, maybe she’d have been better able to fight that guy off. He shook his head above her, glad she’d closed her eyes.

Gently, he laid her on his bed and stripped himself before he lay down beside her, pulling the sheets over them.

She turned into his arms. Her breasts teased his chest. His mouth went dry. She wrapped her leg around his.

“You’re warm,” she said.

“Yeah.” His raspy voice startled him. Five years was a long time to love a woman, want her and believe he might never touch her again. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t frighten her.

He tried to roll over and reach for the lamp. She tightened her arms.

“I want it on,” she said.

“You sure?”

She kissed his chest, tracing his breastbone with her lips. Maybe she nodded, too. He couldn’t tell. And he didn’t care.

Her mouth reached his nipple, already hard with desire, like every inch of his body. Her mouth, moist and hot, made him groan, and he half expected her to leap out of bed.

But she smiled. Her lips curved around him, and his body took over.

He slid her beneath him, running his hands down her sides, finding curves he’d cherished, finding welcome he wasn’t sure she’d still feel seconds from now.

He caught her nipple. She stiffened. Her heart beat so hard, she pulsed in his mouth. Her life was tied to his. He’d belonged to her before he’d ever known what love was. She was more precious to him than his own life.

As he splayed his fingers across her other breast, moaning again as her nipple rubbed his palm, she twined her legs around him again.

She threw back her head. He knew how she liked being touched. He followed the curve of her breasts with his mouth, open, wanting, needing until she curled into him so that he reached her nipple again. He reached between them and caressed her until she arched in his arms, crying out his name.

His name. Not in fear, not in anger. In wonder and the sheer relief of being sated. He knew the sounds she made when she made love.

“Now,” she said. “Can you—”

“I don’t have to. Isn’t this enough for now?” Shaking in her arms, wanting her so much he was clinging to his own need with a slender, breaking thread of control, he was still afraid that taking her would make him lose her.

“If you don’t, I might die.”

“Oh.” He lifted himself above her. Eyes half-closed, her body still moving, thrusting against him, she reminded him they were in this together. Not just this bed, but this life. “Where’s the—”

“Find it. Please.” She pushed her hair away from her face, her hands moving slowly as if she were touching herself in more intimate ways.

He stared, mesmerized. Her hands slid down her throat.

“Van.”

He found the packet on the floor and tore it open so urgently, he half feared he’d ripped the condom, too.

“Van.”

“I have to make sure I didn’t tear it.”

“Van, now.”

She held out her arms, and he was in them. Her hands slid all the way to his hips. She caught him between her palms and he thought he might die.

She opened her eyes wide. “Look at me,” she said.

He wanted to look away as she helped him inside. His need was too much. His love, too intense.

She opened his mouth with hers. “I love you,” she said against him.

He moved then because he couldn’t stop himself. He forgot to be gentle, forgot everything except loving her, wanting her with him like this.

She felt tighter. He mourned the lost years, for her as well as for him, but he couldn’t hold back. He drove the memories from his own head and shut the damn door on them. Never again would the past come between him and Cassie.

“I love you,” he said over and over. Her incoherent, breathy cries robbed him of his last vestige of control. When her body pulsed around him, he was lost. He rose above her, grasped her hips and gave himself up.

What had she been afraid of? A woman’s body was so subtle she could have hidden her response if she’d tried. He could hide nothing. He melted into her with the gratitude of finding lost love, and he felt so naked he couldn’t speak.

M
INUTES PASSED
. They didn’t move. Cassie smiled against his chest as he grew hard inside her again. He wanted her. Why had she ever doubted?

“Cass?”

“Hmm?” She kissed him, loving the scent and the taste of his skin.

“I think you can do it.”

“I was just thinking the same about you.”

“Did you bring more than one condom?”

“I’m sorry.” She stroked his back. This man, virile and gentle, and all male, belonged to her. And she belonged to him. “I’m tempted to say it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” He pulled away, reluctance in his slow withdrawal, in the sigh of his breath. “We need time together with Hope before we add to our family.”

“You do love her?” As he lay on his back, she lifted herself above him. “You’re not just taking her on because of me?”

He twisted a strand of her hair. “That day, with Barr’s kid—she stopped being yours. I forgot about that bastard who hurt you. She was just mine, my child to protect. Imagine, wanting to make a little boy pay for his parents’ gossip. But the idea that someone could hurt Hope…”

“I know.” She kissed him. “Being a parent is tricky business, huh?”

He nudged her elbow off his chest and caught her in a delicious kiss that put even Hope out of her mind. As his hand cupped her breast, she caught his wrist.

“What time is it?”

“Why?” His hand, sure and tender, made her dizzy. She seemed to be all nerve endings.

“We could go to my house,” she said, “I need to be home when Hope wakes up.”

“Maybe we could stop along the way.”

“My thoughts, too.”

He looked in her eyes, his own hollow with desire. Need swam through her veins. Her body—her soul—belonged to him. She recognized her mate.

A
S DARK BLUE CREPT
into the black sky, they showered together at Cassie’s house. Even without closing his eyes all night, Van felt more awake than he had in five years. He handed Cassie a lacy camisole she’d dropped on the bed, thinking how much he’d enjoy peeling it off her later.

She pulled it over her head. “Are you sure about all this?”