Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set (41 page)

He paused, and Carly waited for him to continue. “I jumped out of my seat before the guy could stop. By the time I reached the bus, I heard the screams and smelled gas.” His hand went to his shoulder and he worked the muscles with his fingers. Even from her distance on the bed, she could see how brutally he clutched at his arm.

She gripped the bedsheet, watching as he wrestled with the demons that plagued him.

“We knew we didn’t have much time, but we had to get as many out as we could before the tank exploded. We pried open the bus door. Most of the people up front had taken a direct hit. They didn’t make it.” His voice shook, but he continued. “Most were women. In the end, we managed to pull a bunch of young kids from the bus and get them up the hill. When the explosion hit, I had one kid hanging from my neck screaming for his mother.”

She swallowed, but the lump in her throat remained. And no matter how much she wanted to comfort Mike, the right words wouldn’t come.

“I spent the next few weeks trying to track down this kid’s father. Turns out he’d already been killed. The crash orphaned most of those kids.”

Just like Mike. Oh, God. In a daze, she rose and walked up behind him, placing a hand on the shoulder he’d been abusing. “And this?” she asked softly. She stilled his hand beneath hers.

“Ripped open some muscle getting to the back of the bus.”

She dropped a kiss on his shoulder, her lips coming in contact with new scar tissue. Why hadn’t she noticed it earlier? “It must have been awful.”

“Want to know the worst part? My damned boss was furious that I hadn’t taken pictures. These kids just had their worlds ripped apart and he wanted exclusive photos.” He shook his head in disgust. “Abandoned children and he wanted headlines.”

“Mike...”

“But you know what? He was right. It was my job and I didn’t do it. I couldn’t. Any more than I could go back afterward.” He dropped his head lower, leaning against the window. “All those kids...”

No wonder he was back in the States covering fluff topics like summer hot spots.

“Mike.” She turned him toward her. In his tortured face she saw how difficult the telling had been. Even worse was that he had lived alone with the pain all these months.

“Orphaned isn’t the same as abandoned,” she whispered. “There’s a difference. Not much, I’ll admit, but there is a difference.”

“Tell that to those kids whose parents are gone.” He paused. “Forever.”

Her heart broke for the little boy he had been. “Those parents didn’t walk out on their kids. They were taken by a cruel twist of fate. That may not seem to make a difference now, but in the long run, the knowledge will ease the pain.”

As she said the words, she recognized the irony. In the long run, for Mike, the distinction had meant little. “How long have you had these dreams?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Since the accident.”

“I see.” A period of hell, of equating his own situation with those of the children, of beating himself up for not getting hit instead, for not doing his job. What would it take to vanquish his demons?

The answer, she knew, lay in their parting. He had to return to the profession he loved and prove to himself that he could face his past and his present.

She didn’t fit into the equation. Knowing Mike’s strength of character, the separation would come much sooner than she had anticipated. He’d be doing her a favor, but right now it didn’t feel like one.

“Running isn’t the answer. You have to fight this.” Even as she said the words, she knew she was pushing him away. Tears threatened and she closed her eyes against them.

“I know. I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You’ll know when the time’s right.”

He nodded.

His hands cupped her face and he brought their lips together. He kissed her deeply, drawing from her both physically and emotionally until she was drained. She leaned into him, brushing her breasts against the hard planes of his chest.

“Carly.” He groaned her name, then lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the bed. “Make me forget,” he said as he entered her.

This time they came together in an explosive combination of want and need. He climaxed first and she followed. Their bodies entwined, Mike still inside her, she rested her head against his cheek.

When he whispered, “Don’t leave me,” she refused to believe the words, choosing instead to reassure him with a kiss.

* * *

The summer sun shining through the window woke Mike first In the harsh light of day, last night’s dreams were but distant shadows. Carly’s long legs were entangled around his, reminding him that there was beauty in this harsh world.

She had been there for him, offering herself when he needed her. He had taken much more than he had been able to give. No one in his life had ever given of themselves, given at their own expense for his benefit. His good mood this morning reflected the genuine concern he’d received during the night.

He stretched his arms over his head, letting his hand come to rest on her bare breast. It had been a long time since he’d felt so at peace. Perhaps he never had. And though reality tried to intrude, he forced it aside. He’d had little peace in his life. He wanted to enjoy it while he could.

Her brown eyes opened and she smiled.

“Morning.” He placed a light kiss on her lips.

“Already?” She yawned. “Seems like we just went to sleep.”

“I think we did, but there’s always a way to make up for lack of sleep.”

“How?”

Reaching for her, he said, “Spending the rest of the day in bed.”

He wanted her again... as much as he wanted to avoid rehashing last night’s nightmare. Whether she understood his dual need or not, he couldn’t say. But she didn’t argue. Instead she leaned over and kissed his lips, then playfully smacked at his wandering hand.

“Bed sounds good, but I can’t put off my work any longer,” she said.

“How much do you need to do today?”

“Well, I need to begin some sort of organizing for the book. And I need to sort through the letters that my editor forwarded for one or two new summer columns. I think one month of reruns is enough, don’t you?”

“Not really. I could rerun last night with you over and over and never get bored.” He brushed his fingers over her breast in a lazy circular motion. “What about you?”

Was it his imagination or did she stiffen at his touch. “I think we shouldn’t go overboard.” She grinned, but the smile seemed forced. “The work won’t disappear, so I’m kicking you out.”

Her backing off didn’t surprise him and he decided to tread carefully. “Can’t kick me out when I have nowhere to go,” he reminded her, deliberately playing on her good nature.

“True. But I can bribe you to disappear for a while.”

Her attempt at easy banter relaxed him somewhat, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that she obviously needed to escape. And given her admitted fears, that need probably had more to do with their newly discovered intimacy and passion than with her need to work. Since making love had cemented an already strong bond, one
he’d
be forced to break, he decided to let her have her way.

“I’m a man easily bribed. What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll make you breakfast and then you disappear for a few hours. Get lost. Go take pictures somewhere.”

“Pancakes?” he asked. “You know you can’t get pancakes in the places I’ve been hanging out lately.”

“I think I can handle that,” she said wryly.

“Bacon?”

“Okay.”

“Fresh-squeezed orange juice?”

She grinned and poked him in the chest. “Now you’re pushing your luck.”

“Deal, then.” With the subject off sex and onto food, Carly seemed completely at ease. Or did she just have him fooled? Before he left, the one thing he wanted more than anything was to help her get on with her life and put her painful past behind her.

“I’ll get things started. Meet me in the kitchen in a few.” She tossed off the covers and started to rise.

He reached for her, then changed his mind and let her go. Mike knew avoidance when he saw it. Hell, he was an expert on that subject. She’d helped draw him out last night. He owed her the same. Just because Carly had escaped his bed this morning didn’t mean he’d let her elude her demons as well.

* * *

Carly removed the necessary breakfast ingredients from the refrigerator. She didn’t want to analyze how much she’d enjoyed waking up with Mike beside her, or how relaxing she found making breakfast and knowing he’d be there to share it. Neither one could last.

More than once she stopped to pull down the blue oxford she had pilfered from Mike’s closet.  He had wrestled her for it, and of course he had won. Which was why she now wore nothing beneath the denim shirt. She yanked at the hem, but it still only reached as far as midthigh.

Once she began the pancakes, she was grateful for the activity that took her mind off last night. Not only making love but the revelations. Everything about the dark night had inadvertently served to strengthen the emotional bond between them.

She cared for him deeply. When he left her, she would be hurt in a way she hadn’t believed possible. As much as she tried to convince herself that his departure was necessary for them both, the more time they spent together, the harder it was to believe.

Mike entered the kitchen to the delicious aroma of home cooking. The places he normally frequented lacked such a treat. Not only did the kitchen smell good but it felt good, too. Too good, too comfortable. “I guess you can cook.”

“You were worried? I should be insulted. Sit.” she waved a spatula in his direction.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.

“Mike?”

“What?”

She glanced in his direction, a serious glint in her eyes. “You told me why you’re in the Hamptons, but how’d you end up here? At the house?”

“On a hunch, I went to see your father at the office. I asked him for motel names.”

“I see.”

“He showed me a picture of your family. Taken here, I think.”

She turned her head. Her expression was unreadable.

Mike pushed on. “He keeps it on his desk.” The sound of oil in the frying pan drew their attention to the stove, and Carly turned to work on breakfast.

“Nice of him,” she said. “I wonder if it reminds him of happier times.” Sarcasm was evident in her voice. So was the hurt. Hurt he’d also seen in her father’s eyes.

He recalled the photo and the pained look in Carly’s young eyes. Happier times? He doubted it. He wanted to broach the subject without her declaring it off-limits. And maybe help her, as she’d helped him, to at least discuss the source of her fear. “He asked about you.”

“What did you tell him?” She flipped three pancakes over and transferred them to a dish beside the stove.

“Nothing. But he was concerned.”

Her snort of laughter seemed forced. “He’ll get over it. He’s still got his top associate, even if Peter won’t be his son-in-law.”

“Unfair, Carly. He told me he wanted to dump Peter on his partner-climbing ass.
You
talked him out of it. He seemed genuinely concerned about you, not Pete.”

She had finished the pancakes and added bacon to the frying pan. Her jerky motions were at odds with the casual air of indifference she tried to maintain.

“Tell me about it,” he urged.

Silence reigned until finally she spoke. “Remember what it was like being a kid?” she asked. “When life was one big illusion?”

“After my parents died, reality killed any hopes of that. Do you?” he asked.

“Yes. One day we were a happy family, no major problems that I knew of. The next we’re front-page news. Scandal of the year.” She plucked the half-cooked bacon off the pan and stacked it next to the pancakes. He didn’t see any reason to point that out. “Breakfast is served.” She executed a mock curtsy and placed his dish before him.

“Thanks.”

She smiled. “No problem. And because I like you, I caved in.” Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a large pitcher. “Freshly squeezed. Never say I don’t accommodate you.”

“Who me?” he asked. “Never.”

He waited until she had seated herself across from him before continuing his questioning. “What kind of scandal?”

Her dark eyes met his, and though they beseeched him to drop the subject, he wanted her to unburden herself, to trust him enough to share her pain. “Well?”

“You should have been a cop,” she muttered. “You never give up.”

“I’m the next best thing to a journalist. What did you expect?”

She groaned and paused to eat something before beginning. “We lived in a small town in upstate New York. Everyone knew everyone else and gossip ran rampant. So when Roger Wexler, district attorney with political aspirations, hit the news he did it in style.”

She flicked her bangs out of her eyes and looked at him. He waited for her to continue in silence. “Want to take a guess?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“My dad carried on an affair with his secretary for one year. Until the woman forced him to choose between her and his family. In political terms, that’s your lover or your career. Take your pick.” She toyed with her pancakes, staring at the now cold stack.

“He chose your mother?” Mike asked.

“Yes, but that doesn’t make the man a saint. I have no illusions that his decision was politically motivated. And I guess he thought his choice was the end of it.”

“But it wasn’t.”

She shook her head, her pained gaze meeting his. “The woman killed herself, Mike. But not before leaving a suicide note and mailing it to the local paper. She was pregnant.”

Mike sucked in a breath, wishing he had never forced Carly to resurrect these memories. But he had... “Then what?” he asked, knowing he had to hear the end.

“Life went on. Dad’s political career was in ruins, but he never let it get him down. After a while we packed up and moved to the city. Dad hooked up with some old law school buddies and started his own firm.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did all of this affect you?” he asked.

“I was fifteen. Your friends are your friends so long as there’s nothing to laugh at. I went to school surrounded by gossip and laughter. I got used to it.”