“Yes. I call this nice. At first you didn’t want me here, did you?”
He looked away. “It wasn’t the right time,” he said.
“I’m sorry if I ruined any plans you’d made.” With a storm brewing, she wondered what kind of plans he would have had. Unless the reason he hadn’t stocked up on food was because he was leaving and had to stop to save her.
His jaw muscle ticked and he still wouldn’t look at her. Then he shrugged again and pulled his hands from his pockets. “Let’s take a look at that car of yours.”
The day may have looked glorious from the inside, but once outside, the cold knocked the breath right out of her. John had given her an old coat of his and her running shoes. He’d been right, they weren’t cheap shoes. She put them on, hoping once again for some flashback. When nothing happened, she fought the disappointment.
The snowdrifts sometimes came to her knees and she had to step high, falling behind John and using his boot prints as a guide. He dusted the car off with a gloved hand, slowly revealing an old black, rusted Corolla. The cold hinges screeched when he opened the door, echoing off the snow-laden trees and rending the air with a sound that violated the peace of the wintry day.
She crouched and looked inside the dim interior. Cracked faux-leather seats, blood on the steering wheel where she’d hit her head. But that was all there was. Nothing to indicate where she’d come from, why she’d ended up here. Disappointed once again, she straightened, rubbing her aching back.
John struggled to the back of the car and opened the trunk. A car jack fell into the snow, leaving a deep impression. “It’s not a rental,” he said. She didn’t know how he knew that, but trusted his judgment.
The sun broke through the clouds again and she squinted against the glare.
She yanked on the steering wheel and slammed on the brake. The car went into a skid. The rear end fishtailed, skating sideways. She screamed as the car sideswiped a tree, bounced off it, spun around and began sliding down a steep embankment she hadn’t seen.
Throwing her hands over her face, she screamed again as the car turned end over end.
When she focused, John was standing in front of her, with a worried expression. “What happened?”
“I remembered the crash.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head. Why would she remember something so stupid, something that didn’t mean anything?
He must have sensed her frustration. “Don’t worry. It’s a good sign.” He glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in everything and she wondered if he was looking for danger. It seemed strange that danger could inhabit such a peaceful place.
“I’m sorry if I led Suzanne Carmichael to you.”
He swung back to her, his usually expressionless eyes holding surprise. As if he believed her but didn’t want to. “Come on, we better get you inside where it’s warm.” He turned and she followed, but this time he walked beside her, leaving enough distance so their shoulders or arms couldn’t accidentally brush but staying close. “Holly, Hanna, Hope.”
She stumbled, fell to her knees and landed on her hands. Her breath whooshed out of her.
Blood. Blood was everywhere. All over the desk, turning white paper into a splattered mess. Her gaze flew around the room, looking, searching for…
She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, and rushed forward. He lay on his back on the floor. When she crouched down and grabbed his hand, his eyes opened slowly, filled with pain and regret.
“Hope.” He licked his lips and grimaced.
“Don’t talk,” she said. “Please—”
“Go to Callahan, Hope. He’ll help you. He’ll protect you.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, mixed with the blood staining his shirt and turning it pink. “No. I need to call—”
He squeezed her hand but the movement lacked strength. He’d always been such a big man, so full of life, humor, love. “Go to Callahan… His address…in the rolodex…take the card… Go, Hope. Don’t let…them follow…”
He closed his eyes, his hand going slack in hers and she knew. She knew.
Slowly the snow seeped into her sweat pants, freezing her kneecaps. She stared at the snow, fully expecting to see blood. Tears raced from her eyes as they had in her vision, and an aching hole opened inside, quickly filling with grief. A soul-wrenching sadness that made her weak.
In the far reaches of her mind, she heard a voice. Someone crouched in front of her, the voice louder, insistent. Hands reached out, hesitated. She lifted her head, her vision blurred from the tears. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
“You need to get inside,” the voice said. “You’ll freeze out here.”
Callahan. John Callahan. The man she’d been searching for. Not to destroy but for protection. She struggled to stand, the snow beneath her giving way, making her stumble. A far-off noise registered in her mind and she realized she was crying.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”
She shook her head. It would never be okay. She didn’t know what had happened, who the person was who had died holding her hand, but he’d meant something to her. Had been special.
They managed to stumble back to the house. Hot air hit her face when John opened the door, making her nauseated. She stood like a child while he stripped off her mittens, pulled off her coat and hat and scarf, then led her to the couch and the warmth of the fire.
He perched on the coffee table in front of her, elbows on his knees, blue eyes boring into hers. “Tell me what happened.”
She focused through the pain, squeezing her hands together until her nails bit into her palms. “I’m Hope,” she said.
He reared back. “What?”
“My name. It’s Hope.”
As their passion catches fire, so does a killer’s vengeance…
Love Me Tomorrow
© 2009 Dee Tenorio
A
Rancho del Cielo
romance
In the sleepy town of Rancho del Cielo, a killer arsonist is targeting firefighter Josh Whittaker’s friends, family and most importantly…the love of his life.
As fires encircle Josh’s life, his troubles mount. His best friend is dead. The woman he’d give his life to protect is pregnant. Secrets he’s held on to for years are spilling free. If he could just find his equilibrium, he could pull himself together. What he doesn’t know is that someone is dead-set on tearing everything he knows apart.
Losing a lifelong friend has finally awakened Miranda McTiernan to how much of her life has been spent in limbo. Now that she’s pregnant, a dream she never believed could happen, the reality isn’t quite what she’d expected. Instead of being happy and secure, she’s scared and hiding a secret that could ruin the future she’s worked so hard to create.
Assuming she has a future…
Warning: Includes a heroine out to get her man, a hero determined to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, and hormones gone wild. Reading with cookies recommended.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Love Me Tomorrow:
She dripped water, her eyelashes carrying droplets and her mouth curved into a smile trained directly on him. Josh had a hard time pulling in a deep enough breath. Until some part of his brain not rendered stupid noticed something out of sync. It wasn’t her usual smile, the one that brightened her whole face and whole parts of his life. No, this one was confident. Pleased. Self-satisfied.
Son of a bitch.
“Hey, Josh. I needed a swim, hope you don’t mind.”
Hairs on the back of his neck rose and tingled at the husky tone of her voice.
Careful. Don’t let her know you’re on to her—whatever it was she was doing
. Thankfully for his blood-deprived mind, it wasn’t hard to guess what that might be. “Nope. My casa is your casa, right?”
Miranda’s smile widened and she sauntered out to the lawn chair beneath the large patio umbrella. She lay below its shade, hiding from the direct beams of the sun, even though it was sinking behind the hills. She had to. Everyone in town knew she burned like a witch in Salem under direct sunlight. Anyone with a brain would know cream-colored skin like hers didn’t need sun anyway.
But he wasn’t supposed to have a brain right now.
So he watched her brush off all the excess water. Her fingers almost seemed to be caressing her own skin, over her forearms up to her shoulders, down her curved neck. He almost forgot how important breathing was when she ran her fingers over the slope of her half-exposed breast.
“Can you bring me a beer?”
She hated beer and he knew it, but that didn’t register right away.
By the time it did, he’d already turned back into the kitchen and grabbed two from the fridge. He almost said something right then, but she turned to him with a diabetes-inducing smile. The little brat thought she had him exactly where she wanted, didn’t she?
“Josh?” She pulled a small bottle of lotion from her tiny terrycloth robe and started applying it to her arms and chest.
He watched, unable to decide which of them to be more disgusted with. Her for thinking he’d fall for this stupid plan to seduce him or himself for being dumb enough to almost prove her right. At her humming, he shook his head and sighed. She was moving so damn slow, the sun would be down before she ever got it applied everywhere it needed to be. “I haven’t seen that suit yet. Is it new?” he asked, handing her the beer, purposely keeping the entranced puppy look on his face. When her fingertips slid between her breasts, it took considerably less effort to do.
“Yup. It showed the most skin. It’s not very me, but I need an allover tan.”
He frowned, accidentally losing his stunned-stupid gaze. “What for?”
“Because men like tans. You turned me down. Now I have to attract someone else to be a father. I figure it’ll help.”
He screwed his brows together in consternation. “I thought you wanted the best family you knew for your baby.” Hadn’t she mentioned something about that when she was prattling about sperm donors? His eyes followed her oiled hands across her skin without his permission. How much lotion did two breasts really need?
Finally, she had mercy and moved on. The problem was that she reached around her ribs one side at a time, her inner elbows pushing the outer sides of her breasts inward so that the shining flesh pressed together and lifted upward and his brain began to throb. She arched her back and ran one palm down her smooth belly in a way that had his throat closing up. God help him if those searching fingers were going where he thought they were.
Instead, just as she touched the edge of that skimpy bikini line, she lowered her hips and strangely, his lungs deflated as if he’d been holding his breath.
“I did, but your family isn’t available.” She actually stopped to blink over at him with a saccharine grin. “Truth is, I don’t have to be so picky. We live in RDC. I’ve known just about every man here all my life. I know
everyone’s
family. There’s plenty of men to pick from.”
His breath stopped moving for entirely new reasons. She’d better not be thinking what he thought she was thinking. “You don’t really believe you can just talk someone into fathering a child for you?”
She gave a spurt of disbelief. “Are you kidding? No one is going to volunteer for that. Not with you constantly browbeating anyone who looks at me.”
He almost let himself sigh, relieved.
“So I’ve decided to become promiscuous. If I’m easy enough, no one will think about you at all.” She had the audacity to wink.
Do not choke.
“You’ve gotta admit, it’s the one thing I haven’t tried. Even you can’t beat up every man in town.”
Do. Not. Choke. Her.
He scratched the side of his head so hard it was likely bleeding. “Aren’t you overestimating here? I mean, not that you couldn’t get their attention, but there aren’t many available men just wandering around RDC, waiting for a promiscuous woman to fall into their laps.”
She stared at him incredulously, but he continued calculating which men in their tiny little town she had to choose from. Thankfully for his escalating blood pressure, pickings were slim. He knew most men close to their ages were married or just damn ugly. Except for the guys at the—
“What about the guys at the firehouse? I’m sure a few of them wouldn’t mind a tumble. What about Andy Raymond? He likes me. He probably wouldn’t turn me down if we went out on a date.”
Of course Andy wouldn’t. The kid left a trail of drool behind her whenever she was in the station. Josh’s brain skidded to a halt as he tried to think of a good way to deter her.
“No.” It was all that came to mind.
She turned innocent eyes on him. Some feat, considering that Miranda was the least innocent person he knew.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Why not?”
Shit
. Back to square one. “The gossips,” he finally dragged out of his ass.
“You think your baby would be able to live down your reputation after something like that?” Heartened by her blank blink, he picked up steam. “You know what this place is like. People are going to find out no matter what you do.” Her mouth quirked to one side. “I can afford to move.”
Of course she could. Her illustrated children’s books had been doing well for more than a few years. She could afford whatever she damn well wanted. But the thought of her leaving left him even colder than the prospect of her traipsing around with any guy she could find. He searched for another tack.
“You can’t leave your house. You love that house.” It was falling down around her ears because she refused to update it to safety code, but she loved it.
“I don’t have to sell it. I’ll figure that part out later.”
She continued rubbing the coconut-smelling concoction over her legs, lifting them straight up, one at a time, all but purring at the touch of her own hands. Josh scrambled for something else to think about other than her apparent flexibility.
“Well, it can’t be Andy, he’s only twenty-two.”
“Young is good.” She smiled lasciviously, eyes closed while she sighed, dropping her forehead to press against her shin, wearing a slow grin he could only call sinful. “I like a guy with…energy.”