They didn’t say much as they worked, only the occasional
comment about how he had forgotten how cold it could get once the cloud cover
moved off, and how this winter had been mild compared to some. When they’d
finally cleared off the last window, he shook the remaining snow off the scraper
before handing it back to her.
“There you go. You should be able to see now.”
“Thank you. I generally find that useful when I’m trying to
drive. Shall we do yours?”
“I think I’m good.” He gestured across the parking lot to one
of the few other vehicles there, an SUV that looked brand-new, judging by the
temporary plates hanging inside the disgustingly frost-free back window.
“How did you manage that?”
“I had errands this afternoon after it snowed and I brushed it
off then. Thanks for the offer, though.”
She shrugged. “You’re new in town. Well, if you don’t count
your first eighteen years, anyway. I wouldn’t want you to think we’re not
neighborly to our architects, brilliant or not.”
He chuckled and reached in front of her to open her
driver’s-side door, in an astonishingly sweet gesture. She gazed at him. This
whole thing would be much easier if he would act more like a jerk instead of
doing these kind things that left her flustered and off guard.
She brushed past him to climb inside her SUV again, too aware
of him to pay as much attention as she should to her footing. Her boot slipped
on a patch of ice just outside the vehicle, and to her mortification, she felt
herself falling. In an instant, Jack released the door and grabbed for her
instead, clamping his hand around her upper arm and catching her.
She managed to find her balance, but her good sense seemed to
have completely deserted her. She couldn’t seem to look away from the sudden
flare of heat in those blue eyes, the pulse beating along his jawline, the warm
air that emerged in a cloud with his exhale.
She should move. Right now
. The
warning whispered through her like a cold wind, but she instinctively blocked it
out. He was warm and sweet and gorgeous. Why would she possibly want to
move?
CHAPTER NINE
S
HE
HELD
HER
BREATH
as he lowered his head to kiss her, his mouth
warm against the winter night and tasting sweetly of cinnamon.
She shouldn’t respond. If she stood here like an ice sculpture,
he would probably take one quick taste and then move on. Some part of her brain
knew that was the wisest course, but the rest of her apparently didn’t want to
listen. He was warm and delicious and she hadn’t known the sweet seduction of a
man’s kiss in
forever
.
His arms wrapped around her, pressing her against the door, and
she thought he murmured her name, low in his throat. That sexy sound apparently
was all her foolish body needed to ignite. She wrapped her arms around him and
kissed him back, lost in the heat and the wonder of it, all tangled with
memories of so many other kisses.
He had always been a fantastic kisser. Even as a young man, he
had known just how to taste and tease and explore. Now, age and experience gave
him a laser-sharp focus on her mouth that left her weak and achy and wanting
much, much more.
Why had they bothered scraping all the snow when the heat they
generated would have done the job?
She had a sudden memory of their first kiss. After weeks of
hanging out together, talking and laughing and helping each other through their
respective family crap, she had been dying inside, waiting and waiting for him
to finally take the next step and wondering if she was going to have to paint a
big red X-marks-the-spot on her mouth to clue him in that she wanted him to kiss
her.
Finally, one evening they had gone hiking up in Silver Strike
Canyon. They had been sitting on a boulder enjoying the twilight and the picnic
she had packed and, suddenly, out of the blue, he had grabbed her sandwich out
of her hand, tossed it into the grass and devoured her mouth until neither one
of them could think straight.
The memories were all tangled up with the present. She was no
longer that seventeen-year-old girl. She was a mature woman with needs she had
ignored far too long, but right now, in Jack’s arms, she wanted to be that
reckless, wild girl, throwing caution to the wind in the arms of the boy she
loved.
His kiss deepened, heightening the aching hunger, and she
kissed him back, pressing against his hard strength.
For all she knew, they might have stood there all night,
kissing until their toes went numb with frostbite. She wanted to, but suddenly
the sound of a car’s engine out on the street pierced the haze of desire. Before
she could pull away, she heard a loud honk, then a bunch of whooping and
catcalling, then teenaged voices grew more distant as the car passed them.
Oh, good grief. What was she doing, standing out here on a
frigid January night, tangled in Jack Lange’s arms? She felt as if she had been
in hibernation for twenty years, just waiting for him to return and wake
her....
She jerked out of his arms and sank down sideways on the
driver’s seat, wishing she could shove him out of the way, slam the car door and
squeal out of the parking lot. But she was thirty-seven years old, not some
foolish teenage girl. She was certainly adult enough to face up to her
mistakes.
Jack looked down at her, his ragged breathing sending out
little puffs of condensation. “We always could generate enough flames to burn
down the whole Silver Strike forest.”
“Winter nights at this high altitude can do crazy things to
people’s judgment,” she said, her voice as prim as her maiden aunt Gertrude’s
underwear.
He looked amused. “So you’re saying the cold and the altitude
are to blame for my overwhelming urge to slip into that backseat with you right
now and see just how crazy our judgment can get?”
Her whole body felt flushed, tingly, and she couldn’t quite
catch a full breath. “Have a little originality, Jack. You mean you haven’t
changed your technique at all in twenty years?”
His smoldering look had a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know flavor to
it. “Oh, I’ve definitely branched out. But I have to say, once in a while
there’s something to be said for the tried and true.”
She almost had to close her eyes at the jittery hunger his
words evoked. Thirty-seven, she reminded herself sternly. Much too mature and
centered to be tempted into necking with a guy in the backseat of a
car—especially when the man in question was the only one with whom she had ever
enjoyed the activity.
“You’ll have to try that particular walk down memory lane with
someone else. I’m tired and I’m going home. Good night, Jack. Thank you for
helping me scrape my windows and for keeping me from cracking my tailbone on the
ice. I’ll be sure to watch my step more carefully from now on when I’m around
you.”
He laughed again. “Good night, Maura. Sweet dreams.”
At last—about ten minutes too late for her peace of mind—he
closed the vehicle door behind her. Maura drew in a deep, cleansing breath,
aware of the tremble of her hands and each pounding heartbeat. She shifted into
gear and drove out of the parking lot, wondering how the heck a January night in
the high Rockies could turn so steamy.
* * *
“W
OW
.
T
HIS
IS
A
SURPRISE
. You brought me lunch.
Thanks, Mom!”
Maura forced a smile for her daughter, who sat behind a
tasteful oak desk in the reception area of the Hope’s Crossing branch of Jack’s
firm. The reception area wasn’t large, perhaps twelve feet by fifteen feet, but
it was decorated with comfortably sturdy mission-style furniture, and a couple
of Arts and Crafts–era lamps with shades of bronze glass that looked as if they
belonged in a museum somewhere.
Sage wore one of the blazers she had purchased at her favorite
thrift shop. She seemed as polished and cool as the office, until Maura looked
closer and saw the circles under her eyes, the pale cast to her features.
“We need to talk, and I couldn’t figure out another way to pin
you down. Eat your turkey wrap. Dermot Caine fixed it especially for you. I
think he always adds extra yellow peppers because he knows you love them. Go
ahead. Eat.”
Sage studied her for a moment, then obediently untwisted the
paper around her sandwich and took a small bite. Maura took a bite of her own,
though she wasn’t very hungry. Parents needed to lead by example, right? Anyway,
it was no big sacrifice. Dermot’s sandwich wraps were always delicious, even
when she wasn’t in the mood to eat.
Her gaze kept drifting to the closed door behind her daughter,
and she finally had to ask. “You said your, er, Jack is out of town?”
“He had meetings in San Francisco for the rest of the week.
He’s supposed to be back on Saturday night, though.”
Maura told herself she’d only asked because she didn’t want to
be interrupted for this long-overdue discussion with her daughter. She certainly
wasn’t interested in his whereabouts for her own sake.
She wasn’t avoiding him. Or at least she didn’t want to
admit
she was avoiding him. Ever since that stunning
kiss the week before, she had gone out of her way to park in the opposite
direction from his office and to make sure their paths didn’t have any reason to
cross.
She couldn’t help it if the memory of his mouth, hard and
determined, and his hands slipping inside her coat left her breathless. Okay,
maybe she had spent far too much time this past week reliving that kiss. She was
quite sure that was just a case of the winter crazies and would pass soon
enough.
“This is nice,” she said, dabbing at the corner of her mouth
with one of the napkins Dermot had included. “I’ve hardly seen you since you
moved back. It seems like you’re always studying or over at one of your friends
or here at the office. I think I saw you more when you were living in
Boulder.”
“I guess things
have
been a little
hectic,” Sage said.
“Right.” She took a deep breath and set down her lunch. “That’s
probably why you haven’t gone to the see the doctor like you promised me last
week.”
Sage shifted and looked away. “I didn’t promise anything. I
said if I needed a doctor, I would go.”
“But you haven’t. And you’re still not feeling well, are you? I
didn’t tell you this last week, but even Jack has noticed. He even asked me if
you have an alcohol abuse problem. I told him you had a bug you couldn’t
shake.”
“I don’t have a drinking problem and I don’t need a doctor,
Mom. Back off, okay? I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, honey. Since you came home, you’re always
pale and you don’t have any energy. I’m worried about mononucleosis. It runs
rampant on college campuses, from what I understand.”
“I don’t have mono.”
“You might! How do you know? It takes a blood test before you
know for sure.”
“Jeez, Mom. Did you seriously do a Google search for
‘mono’?”
“I was just looking up your symptoms,” she said, trying not to
feel defensive. She was a mother worried for her child. Nothing wrong with that.
“Admit it, you haven’t felt well since you came home. Even during the holidays
you weren’t yourself.”
“Give me a break. I had just discovered the identify of the
ultrasecret father you always claimed didn’t exist.”
“I never said Jack didn’t exist. I only told you he wasn’t a
part of our lives and tried to stress you still had Chris, who was—and still
is—an excellent stepfather. The point is, you’re not yourself. We need to make
sure you don’t have something contagious.”
“It’s not contagious,” Sage muttered.
“How do you know? I made an appointment with Dr. Harris. She
has one last opening today at five. I’m sure Jack would understand if you closed
up the office a little early in order to make it.”
“No.”
And Jack called
her
stubborn. She
ground her back teeth and wondered why her daughter’s strong will always took
her by surprise, even after nineteen years of coming up against it. “You’re
going to the doctor,” she said as sweetly as she could manage, “even if I have
to get your uncle Riley to come in here, handcuff you and stuff you in the
backseat of his patrol car.”
Sage snorted. “As if he ever would.”
“He might. You never know. What’s the point of having a brother
who’s the chief of police if you can’t take advantage of the badge once in a
while?”
Sage shook her head. She fidgeted with her turkey wrap for a
moment, then placed her hands flat on the desktop. “Mom, I don’t need to see Dr.
Harris.”
She sighed. “You need to be examined by
somebody
. Is there another doctor in town you would rather see?”
“I saw a doctor at student health services when I went back to
clean out my dorm room.” Her daughter spoke the words like a confession, fast,
with the syllables all blurred together.
Maura stared. “Why didn’t you say something? Did they give you
any medication? What was the diagnosis?”
“Well, the good news is I don’t have mono.” One corner of her
mouth lifted as if she were trying to make a joke.
Was it something more serious?
Cancer?
Maura felt as if every internal organ had frozen. Her heart
surely had stopped beating, her lungs couldn’t draw air, her blood was no longer
pumping. “What? What did the doctor say?”
Sage sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. I don’t know
how
I wanted to. The truth is, I
didn’t
want to, but…well, not like this, here in the
office over turkey wraps.”
Her face was frozen now too, and she could barely form any
words through the sudden panic attack overwhelming her. She couldn’t lose Sage
too. She
couldn’t
. “Tell me! What’s wrong?”
Sage chewed her lip the way she used to when she was working on
her times tables. “I’m pregnant.”
Maura sank back in her chair as everything started working
again in triple time. She couldn’t have heard correctly. She was
hyperventilating, her breath coming fast and shallow, and her stomach gave a
sickening curl. “You’re…what?”
“You know. Preggers. Knocked up. Bun in the oven.”
She couldn’t think. She could only stare at her pale daughter
sitting in this elegant office that represented everything Sage had ever
wanted.
“How?” The word scored her throat.
“The usual way, Mom,” Sage said, her tone dry. Still she didn’t
meet Maura’s gaze, but resumed fretting with the paper wrap on her sandwich.
So many things made sense now. Sage’s exhaustion, her sudden
emotional outbursts, the upset stomach. Why hadn’t she said anything? All
through the holidays, she hadn’t so much as given away a hint. Had their
relationship become so superficial and strained since Layla’s death that Sage
felt she couldn’t confide in her anymore?
“I didn’t know you were even dating anyone,” she whispered.
“Not since Michael Jacobs in high school.”
Sage didn’t lift her gaze from the desk in front of her. “I’m
not. Not really. It was…just one of those things.”
“Who is the young man?”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now, Mom, if you don’t
mind. I haven’t figured out what I’m doing yet.”
“What are you
thinking
about
doing?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t.” Sage sighed. “I guess I’m just
stupid, but I didn’t even suspect I might be pregnant until Christmas. I wasn’t
having my period, but I just thought…I don’t know, that my cycle was all messed
up because of stress and school and Layla and everything. When I went to the
health center, they—
we
—figured out I must be about
fifteen weeks along, which kind of eliminates some of my easier options, you
know? I’m not sure if I could actually
use
those
options, but I guess it can be harder to get a second-trimester abortion.”