Where One Road Leads (12 page)

A hot thrill of expectation raced through Matt’s body.

Of course she could lean over, kiss him on the cheek and say goodnight. Instead she stood before him, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty, as if she were about step off a cliff into the unknown. She didn’t speak as her hands went to the first button of her top and slowly released it.

One by one, the others came undone until the shirt fell away, leaving an enticing view of her torso, creamy skin against the dark fabric. With the same deliberate movement, she pushed the shirt off her shoulders so it slid onto the floor behind her. Shadowy light revealed her full breasts, peaked with dusky, taut buds. Her shoulders were straight, her waist trim, sweeping into full hips that were still hidden beneath the pants she wore.

The scars made him frown. There were so many. He’d had no idea. An angry slash on her shoulder and arm, and one crossing over her belly. Another peeked above her waistband. What lay beneath, he couldn’t imagine.

No wonder she looked so scared. She believed her body to be flawed, yet she stood in front of him anyway, tall and brave. Waiting for him to either accept her or turn away.

He stood and crossed to her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. His beautiful, wounded bird, ready to fly. He wouldn’t let go. He was ready to jump in and embrace the desire that overwhelmed him for this woman.

Light and smell intruded on Krista’s wonderful dream. She snuggled deeper under the blankets, wanting the dream to come back, but it broke apart like a cloud of smoke in a breeze, becoming fainter until she could hardly remember what she’d been dreaming. She cursed the invasion of the real world until she realized the scent, a subtle mixture of cologne and skin and lovemaking, came from the source of the heat next to her.

Her body was cocooned by Matt’s, his arms around her, his hand loosely holding hers. His legs were tangled with hers. The memories of their night together came on stronger than the dream that had dissipated so quickly.

It had been beyond what she’d expected, making love to him. By the fire and again on the soft mattress of his bed under the blankets, he made her feel safe and special and more of a woman than she’d ever felt before. Drifting off to sleep in his arms had been one of the most incredible feelings, wrapped in his warmth, his breath on her skin.

She opened her eyes and glanced at his hands, still holding her. A ray of light glowed on his skin and fell away to the white sheet like a blaze.

Sunlight. Which meant morning.

“Oh my God.” She turned over to face Matt. He was still lost in sleep.

“Matt, wake up.” She shook his shoulder. “Come on, Matt, we’ve got to get up.”

She couldn’t find a clock in the room, but she could tell the sun was high. They had to get back to Quail Ridge for the open house.

Matt’s eyes opened into slits, and he smiled. “Good morning,” he whispered.

“We’re late. We’ve got to get going.” She pulled away before he got her meaning and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Realization changed his expression from sleepy contentment to full understanding as she tossed him a panicked glance and dashed out the door and to the room that was supposed to have been hers last night.

She grabbed the bag of clothes Matt had bought for her and yanked the garments out quickly.
Not even enough time to take a shower
. Maybe when she got back to the center, she could grab a quick one.

She’d worry about hair in the car. Right now she shoved her discarded undergarments into the bag and ran downstairs to collect her pajamas and purse.

Matt had joined in with her urgent preparations. He closed off the flume in the chimney, returned the dishes to the kitchen and tossed his sweatpants and sweatshirt in a bag. With his tux over his arm, he was ready to go in fifteen minutes. Krista paused to take him in. His hair stood in spikes and sleep hooded his dark eyes. She smiled, wishing she could spare the time to enjoy being with him.

“What?” he asked, a smirk turning up his lips. “I’m a mess until I get my first cup of coffee. We’ll grab breakfast at a McDonald’s drive-thru if you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine with me. I have to call Cameron and tell him we’re on the way. He’s going to kill me.”

“No he’s not. I’m sure he’ll understand.” Matt locked up behind them and they dashed to the car. “I’ll have to come back and get the place cleaned. You want to keep me company?”

Krista laughed. “That’s a long trip for a few dirty coffee mugs,” she noted. Maybe it was just an excuse for them to be alone again, this time without the stress that followed them last night.

He glanced at her, quirking a small smile as he raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Yes, I think another trip would be wonderful.”

Matt returned his attention to the road, but the grin on his face told her the previous night wasn’t a fluke.

As soon as they were on the main road, Krista called Cameron’s cell phone, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset. Their biggest day, one they planned to perfection, and she would be late for it.

Cameron picked up on the first ring with an abrupt greeting.

“Cameron, we’re on our way. I’m so sorry, but I promise we’ll be there in less than two hours. I owe you big time,” she blurted out, before he could say anything.

“Krista, oh my God, where the hell are you? I’ve been worried sick!”

The anger and urgency in his tone shocked her into a momentary pause. “I know and I’m sorry, time got away from us—”

“Just get back here,” he said, his voice steel.

“You can hold things down, right? The opening isn’t for another hour or so, so you won’t have too much of a wait.”

“There’s not going to be an opening. Oh hell, get your ass back here. This is such a mess.”

Chapter 10

The call ended before Krista could ask any more questions. What the hell was going on down there? No opening? What was he talking about?

“What is it?” Matt asked, glancing at her.

“I have absolutely no idea. Whatever it is, it’s not good. He’s really pissed and he wouldn’t say why. Cameron doesn’t get angry too often so it’s got to be bad.”

After a quick stop at the McDonald’s off Route 89, they drove straight through, making Quail Ridge in under an hour and a half. They went to the mill first, but were only allowed to get two streets away. The area was closed off and emergency vehicles were everywhere. Even in the broad daylight the red strobe lights from the fire engines glowed against the brick walls of the mill.

“Oh good God,” Matt swore and got out of the car. Krista ran after him, up the street behind the mill. Her flesh went cold and her stomach churned at the chaos surrounding the building and the acrid smoke that rose in a smutty gray cloud into the perfect pale blue sky.

The entire front of the building was a scarred black shell. The back appeared untouched, but the damage in the front seemed complete.

Matt stopped when he reached his father and Fred Seiberling, a member of the town’s fire department. A look of relief washed over Ed’s face, replaced quickly by anger.

“Where the hell have you two been? We’ve been worried sick about you!”

“We went to the cabin,” Matt replied. He had a hangdog expression on his face, like a little kid who knew he’d done something really wrong.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should’ve let someone know? Damn it, Matt, that was irresponsible. Your mom and I have been going crazy with worry.”

“What happened?” Krista teetered somewhere between numbness and dizziness. The need to sit overwhelmed her. She battled it down and turned her attention away from Ed’s flushed face back to the smoking remains of what had been her office and the nursery.

Chaos.

Across the street in the common onlookers milled around, gripping cups of coffee, gathered in clumps. Then she noticed the TV crews. Most likely they’d swooped down on the scene long before dawn to give updates every fifteen minutes on the news. She wanted to scream, tell them to go away. She swallowed back on it, holding onto her strength with a tight fist. What good would it do to lose control? It wouldn’t make the mill stop burning. It certainly wouldn’t stop the reporter—who evidently had just noticed her arrival—from hustling her way.

She struggled to focus on Ed’s words but kept her eye on the reporter and cameraman, keenly aware of Cameron and Matt closing ranks around her. Maybe they’d keep her safe for a moment. She’d become much too familiar with the tenacity of reporters. They’d find a way to her, no matter what.

“What happened?” she repeated.

“They’re trying to figure that out now,” Ed told her. “In light of everything else going on here the past several weeks, they’re thinking arson. There’s more, Krista.”

Before Ed could continue, Krista heard her name being called. She turned to see a female reporter jogging toward her from behind, cameraman in tow.

“Ms. Faye!” the reporter waved her hand as she closed in on her. “Ms. Faye, do you think the fire has anything to do with the car accident fifteen years ago that took three lives?”

“Shit,” Krista growled, searching for an escape. Instead another reporter dodged past the policeman who’d been holding him back. She glanced at Matt. “Why would they link the two?”

Matt didn’t answer. Instead, he moved her aside gently and strode over to the woman. She must’ve been prepared for him, because she dodged around him and continued her beeline toward Krista.

“Ms. Faye, in light of the vandalism at the mill several weeks ago, and now the fire here and at your house, do you think you’re being targeted for revenge?”

Krista turned on the woman, her heart seizing in her chest. Cameron grabbed her arm to hold her back.

“Krista, wait,” he urged but she pulled away.

“What the hell is she talking about, Cam?”

Voices began to blend together. Matt had been able to keep the reporter in her spot, yet the questions barreled on, echoing in Krista’s head. Cameron and Gretchen held on to her.

“Get her out of here,” she heard Ed Burgess saying. “She doesn’t need to be around this.”

“Come on, honey,” Gretchen murmured soothingly. “Let Matt and his dad take care of everyone here.”

Krista’s frantic sweep of the crowd found Matt. It appeared the reporter had turned her attention on him. After all, he’d been involved in the tragedy fifteen years ago. He might not have been the prime target, but she sure didn’t seem to mind.

Before Gretchen could draw her away, she and Matt locked gazes.

“Go,” he mouthed, waving his hand before returning his attention to the crew.

She and Gretchen slipped away. They made it as far as the parking lot when someone else yelled to her. Krista turned toward the voice.

Emily ran from the mill’s parking lot, her tawny-colored leather coat flapping around her legs. Her presence here stunned Krista. She hadn’t even spoken to Emily since she first settled back in Quail Ridge. Their last phone conversation had been an argument about what to do with their mother’s home, with Emily wanting to sell it but Krista determined to stay in it while she put the center together.

Now Emily, her younger, sophisticated, highly polished sister, was racing toward her, not a speck of make-up on, her hair in a careless ponytail.

“Emily, what are you doing here?” Krista managed, just before her sister grabbed her in a hug that nearly knocked her off her feet.

“I could kill you,” Emily said against her shoulder. “Thank God you’re okay.”

Krista eased her away, needing to get her breath back. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on? Who called you? And what’s this about the house?”

“The house, Krista, it’s gone. Burnt down. We thought you and Matt . . .” Emily began brokenly.

“What?” Now she was truly stunned, like a hard blow to her belly. No wonder Cameron had been so angry. They thought she’d been in the house and probably died. Matt too, when they discovered he wasn’t at his own house.

“Ricky—”

“No.” Gretchen stopped her. “At least not directly that we know of. His father took him out of town. They were on their way to the family’s house on the Cape when this happened. Still, there’ll be an investigation into his involvement.”

Krista turned back to her sister. “The house?”

“It’s completely gone, Krista. Everything. Your Jeep, too. Tires were slashed.”

Floundering for a steady breath, Krista instead choked on lingering smoke in the air. Matt’s arm came around her to lend support. Apparently he’d dealt with the reporter. She leaned against him gratefully. All she could think about was the loss. The mill before her, a piece of the town’s history, a building that had played such a big role in the Burgess’s family, was burning. Her center, a dream dear to her, lay in ruins. And her home, where she and her sister had grown up, destroyed as well.

“Gus? Did he get out?” She feared the answer would be no.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Gretchen replied, brushing away the tear that slipped down Krista’s cheek.

Matt tightened his hold on her. “We’re not done here, Krista. I think we’ve taken care of the reporters for now, but there are things we need to deal with here before we can go. I’m sorry.”

She turned into his arms. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” All she wanted to do was crawl into her own bed and pretend none of this happened. But the acrid smell of charred remains riding on the early November wind wouldn’t let her.

After a long day of answering questions, hashing and rehashing things, Krista was exhausted. She wanted to go home but she didn’t have one any longer. She said goodbye to Emily, who promised to return to see if they could salvage anything from the ruins of their childhood home.

When there was nothing left for her to do, she stood outside, facing away from the mill, and closed her eyes tightly. Her head throbbed relentlessly from the base of her skull right to the center of her eyes. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

A pair of hands touched her shoulders and she knew it was Matt. He rubbed her tension-tight muscles.

“You can stay with me for now, until things get settled,” he assured.

She hadn’t taken the time to think of how their relationship had changed just overnight. She’d been too busy dealing with the mess at the mill and her house, not to mention the ‘what now’ of the whole day.

She didn’t know what else to do, so she nodded, then caught the way Cameron eyed Matt. She could see how his eyes narrowed. He was an astute man. Krista figured he’d noticed the change between her and Matt and he didn’t know what to make of it yet. He knew her better than anyone, knew her vulnerabilities and the walls she’d built. He’d be just as concerned for those walls coming down as she.

Grateful for his concern, she touched his arm. “I’ll be okay. With this anyway.”

Cameron nodded in understanding. “We’ll be at the inn indefinitely. If you need us. And Gretchen will take you to get whatever you need.”

Krista glanced down at the new clothes she’d purchased the night before. They weren’t going to last much longer and the only other article of clothing she owned was the gown she’d worn yesterday and the new pajamas. Yes, she’d have to do something about that.

“I appreciate it.”

She wanted her own stuff, her own comfortable clothing and shoes. She’d lost her camera, all her equipment she’d brought with her because she hated leaving it behind in Washington.

Then there was something she hadn’t let herself think of since the first time she’d fully realized what she’d lost. Gus. Her sweet, faithful dog. She’d saved him from one hell only to have him perish in another. How could she ever forgive herself that?

It had been bad enough she’d left him alone after the disaster at the gala when she went up north, but now she had to live with the knowledge that if she’d been there he’d be alive. She let him down, just like she’d let Liz and Jay down.

Matt, with his arm still around her waist, led her away from her concerned friends. When she sat in his car, she turned so he couldn’t see the tears she shed for her old dog.

Neither of them discussed the fire when they got to Matt’s home. She’d never been there before and it felt rather odd to be surrounded by his things. It was a nice house, nothing grand, but she could feel the comfort and the hominess and appreciated that more than anything elegant. It was the kind of place where you could sit and relax, put your feet up.

“I have nothing in the fridge so why don’t we order out?” Matt dropped his armload of clothes on a chair by the dining room table.

Krista smiled wearily at him, a half-hearted effort at best. “I’m not too hungry. I’d love a shower, though, if I could.”

Matt removed the bundle she held and brushed his lips over hers. “Of course. I’ll get you some towels and show you where everything is.”

He led her up the stairs and to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Wordlessly, he turned on the light, pulled two thick towels out of the small linen cabinet in the corner, and set them on the edge of the vanity.

“I’ll put your stuff in the guestroom,” he told her, then walked out.

Left alone, she turned the shower on as hot as her skin would allow and stood under its fast spray, letting it hit her neck. Tension melted away, though not completely. Even as she dried off and combed the tangles out of her hair, she couldn’t think about anything other than Gus and her childhood home. Matt’s building, too.

Her dream, what she’d worked so hard for, opening the center to benefit the whole community . . . gone. Maybe it could be salvaged. Right now she wasn’t sure she had the heart to be the one to raise it from the ashes.

Walking to the guestroom, Krista paused outside Matt’s room. She took a step inside and examined her surroundings. It was as neat and tidy as the rest of the house, simple with little décor. Silently, she wandered farther in, hoping to learn more about him. On his dresser sat a small royal blue dish that held various items—spare change, a key, and other odds and ends she didn’t want to poke around in. There was also an old family photo in a pewter frame. Her heart did a dip when she recognized a very young Jay, sitting next to a black and white dog. Krista glanced away quickly, not ready to deal with her feelings for him after such a horrific day.

She turned her attention to the rest of the room. Matt’s clock reflected a pale green against the surface of his bedside table. Smoothing her hand over the quilt, she wanted to stretch out on the bed and sleep, but thought that might be a little presumptuous. After all, he’d put her stuff in the room across the hall. He hadn’t extended any invitation to stay in his bed for the night. But maybe he planned to see how she felt about it first.

With a sigh, she left his room and crossed over to her own. She was too tired to examine the décor. Instead, she put on the pajamas and folded her clothes neatly, setting them on the trunk at the end of the bed. She supposed she’d be sleeping here tonight.

She didn’t want to be alone. After the previous night, she found herself anticipating the closeness of his body with hers. A curl of desire unfurled within her at the memory of their lovemaking, and the way he’d touched every part of her body and soul. God, she wanted that again,
needed
that again. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding in her craving, and looked away from the lonely guest bed.

Downstairs Matt paid a pizza delivery girl and put the box on the table as Krista came into the living room.

“I hope you don’t mind pepperoni. I wasn’t sure what you like and pepperoni seemed pretty universal,” Matt said.

Krista smiled at him. “That’s fine, thanks. Can I get anything? Drinks? Napkins?”

“Sure, they’re in the kitchen. We have a few bottles of soda in the fridge or water from the bubbler. I’ll just take water if you don’t mind.”