Even in Nana Mac’s rambling house, full of nooks and crannies, there were only so many places to look for a small black cat.
Jacinda had gone into every room, peered into every closet, cupboard, and corner, and called “puss, puss, puss” until her tongue was tied. Every now and then she stopped and listened, tipping her head and holding her breath, in case she could hear an answering meow, or the sound of tiny mewling kittens. But there was no sign of Velvet anywhere in the house.
Next stop, the yard. She did a circuit of the perimeter, looking under the neatly clipped hedge that ran around the boundary. Then she checked in the garden shed, and carefully got down and looked under the deck. Nothing. There was no basement under the house, but there was a big enough space in the foundations, between the bare dirt of the ground and the wooden floorboards, for a grown person to crawl. Not that she was going in there, amongst the spiders and bugs and God only knew what else. She went back into the house and found a torch in the kitchen, then shone it into the gloom, calling again for Velvet. But there was no flash of iridescent eyes reflecting the torch beam in the dark, no answering chirrup. She sighed and closed the creaky access door, then stood up, brushing dirt and grass from her knees. Where could she be?
Her eyes were drawn over the hedge to the Ward house, at number twelve. It would be just her luck. First, though, she’d rule out the other most likely possibility.
The woman who opened the door at number eight looked frazzled, with a preschooler hanging onto her leg and a baby on her hip. But when Jacinda introduced herself, and said why she’d come, her face brightened.
“Oh, of course, Nana Mac said you’d be house-sitting, and Velvet-sitting. We were feeding her until you arrived. I’m Nadia. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.” And it was. At least she had a nice neighbor on one side.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen Velvet around our place. She used to come visiting sometimes, but since Izzy and Oliver came along it’s been a bit hectic for her, I think.”
Izzy, dressed in a pink tutu, a Peppa Pig pajama top, and red gumboots, tugged at her mother’s shirt. “I want to see the pussy cat.”
“Me too,” Jacinda said to her.
At this, Izzy hid behind Nadia’s leg, but peeped out with a little smile. “I like Velvet.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure she likes you too, Izz.” Out of Izzy’s sight, Nadia rolled her eyes and grinned at Jacinda. “Izzy is a very…enthusiastic animal person. Very hands-on, if you know what I mean.”
Jacinda laughed. “I see. Well, thank you.” Baby Oliver started to cry as Izzy decided to force a small plastic teapot onto his foot. “I’ll leave you to it, but it’d be great to know if you do see Velvet.”
“We’ll definitely let you know.” Nadia jigged Oliver on her hip, unfazed by his escalating volume. “And come any time for a cuppa. My other half goes away all the time for work, so it’s nice to have adult company. Not that our company is much of a drawcard.”
She pulled the teapot off Oliver’s foot and threw it into the corner, where it joined what looked like the aftermath of a toy tsunami.
“No, that’d be great, thank you.” Jacinda smiled at Izzy. “Maybe you could make me a cup of tea then?”
Izzy’s face lit up. “Okay! I make decaf soy lattes too,” she said proudly.
“That’s very sophisticated,” Jacinda said.
Nadia smiled. “I’m dairy-free at the moment, because of this guy’s delicate system, so our tea parties are a bit alternative these days, aren’t they Izz?” She switched Oliver to her other hip and his cry settled to a grizzle. “Dairy-free, caffeine-free, Indian-food-free, alcohol-free…fun-free. The joys of motherhood.”
Jacinda had no idea about that, but the kids looked sweet to her. “It must be worth it though—they’re lovely.”
Nadia looked pleased and proud. “Thank you. They are. It’s easy to forget sometimes.”
There was a pause while Jacinda pushed memories back into the depths of her mind.
“Well, I’d better go and hunt for these kittens,” she said. “It was great to meet you.”
“And you. Good luck.”
“Bye,” Izzy said, bold now. “Byeeee!”
Jacinda returned her continuous wave all the way down the path, only stopping when she went around the corner of the fence onto the sidewalk. Then she sighed. So cute. Countless times over the years, she’d wondered whether her baby would have been a boy or a girl. By now, he or she would be in middle school. The ghost of that little person who never was still hovered near, drawing closer in unguarded moments, keeping company with the Jacinda she left behind.
Anyway. Cin Scott was too busy for babies. There never would have been a Cin Scott, if Jacinda’s baby had been born. One birth in place of another. Sometimes, she still woke in the night from a surreal dream, in which she traded Cin and her success for the baby, a deal not with the devil, but with the fates. In the dark, half waking, she felt the bargain slip from reach every time.
But in the light of day, she held tight to practicalities. This way, she was free, and her mom was free. Still troubled, and managing her depression and anxiety as well as she could, but free from having to rely on the vagaries of Doug Prescott’s moods and finances. On top of that, Cin Scott was proof that Jacinda refused to be diminished by her father’s opinions.
By the time she hit puberty—agonizingly early, compared to most of the girls she knew—he’d officially left them. He’d swing back into their lives from whatever rally team he was with at the time, full of loaded comments and back-handed compliments, and make her head spin with uncertainty. Once, she’d been his princess. But when she started to become a woman—a curvy reflection of her mother, her body years ahead of her emotions—he must have felt her starting to grow away from him.
His strategy was a combination of pressure to be amazing, disparagement for what she did achieve, and criticism for the God-given attributes he admired in every pretty girl who passed him on the street (breasts, hair, general womanliness). His attitude—when he graced them with his presence—implied that she specifically looked the way she did in order to have men look at her, and aggravate her father. But she would much rather have been without the burden of those breasts, and the unwanted attention they drew.
And when she returned devastated from Sweet Breeze Bay that summer, and he found out about her pregnancy, he was derisive: there, for him, was evidence that he was right all along. Anyone who looked like her was good for only one thing.
At that point, she could so easily have slipped into the same downward spiral that had claimed her mom.
But some small part of her knew better. From that lowest low point, she had something to raise her up again. A branch to grab onto, and pull herself out of the quicksand. Her musical skills were her escape—which was exactly why she refused to be defined by her body now. She was more than the curvy figure and striking cleavage that drew attention she hadn’t known how to handle. Todd and Greg and whoever else could push her to sex up her act, but she wasn’t going there. She’d walk away before she capitulated to that. The truth was, sometimes the American dream looked better from the outside.
She stopped halfway up the path to number ten, struck by her train of thought. Would she really give it up? Maybe music was her oxygen, but there was more than one way to pursue it. She’d only been out of the industry whirlwind for a few days, but it was already starting to seem unreal. Right then, she remembered the strength it had taken to get where she was so far, and the strength it had taken to stand up for what she believed in and step away, even temporarily.
She looked toward the Ward house. She wasn’t going to hide from him.
She went back down the path, and along to number twelve. It looked completely closed up, even on this hot day. He must’ve gone out after their conversation. She hesitated, then peered down the side of the house. About three-quarters of the way along, it looked like there was a door in the vertical wooden sidings that skirted the base of the house. It was open just a crack, but wide enough to let a cat through.
She went along the grassy width between the hedge and the house, knelt by the door, and peered in through the gap. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. But there, in the seat of an old child’s kayak, on top of a worn plaid rug, snuggled Velvet and a litter of three—wait, four—kittens. She looked at Jacinda, newly serious in her role as mama.
“Hey, you,” Jacinda said softly. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
Velvet blinked, unmoved, and then started to wash the nearest fuzzy kitten. She obviously had more important things to think about.
“You can’t stay under here, you know.”
She tried to push the door farther in. She could gather them all up in the rug, probably, and carry them back to Nana Mac’s luxury cat nest. But the metal hinge was stiff with age and salt air, and the door itself had warped. She shoved harder, turned her shoulders sideways, and angled herself through. There! Halfway in. Now the rest of her.
But having allowed her top half through, the door settled back to its original spot, pressing tightly against her waist. She gritted her teeth as it scraped against her sunburned back, the thin fabric of her t-shirt no protection at all. Hell, that hurt. But, no big deal—all she had to do was shuffle back out again. She reached around, intending to shove the door open the way she had before, but from this angle she couldn’t get a proper grip of it, let alone any kind of leverage. She struggled for a few minutes, fighting the panicky feeling rising in her chest. The air was cool and dank in her lungs, but behind her the sun was hot on her bare legs, still red from her accidental beach nap. The last thing she needed was more sunburn. She resumed wriggling and struggling—she had to get out.
Then there was a drift of a breeze, and for a second, she appreciated the cool relief on her legs…until she realized how far up that cool breeze was traveling. She instantly stopped still. Oh, God—her denim mini had ridden up, exposing her underwear to the light of day. And with her front half trapped, there was no way to reach behind and pull it down.
She rested her elbows on the cold dirt, defeated, and tried not to think about spiders, or whether she’d starve to death before she was discovered, or who would be the person to do the discovering. There was no joy in knowing that Liam Ward would probably be that person. And that she was wearing bright red, lacy panties.
“This is your fault,” she told Velvet, who’d been watching the show with interest. But the cat stretched in the rug bed and closed her eyes, blissing out as her kittens nursed. Jacinda closed her eyes too. She might be here a while, and she didn’t want to see what other company she might have in the half-dark. The only thing left to do was wait…
“Lost something?”
She jolted up at the sound of his voice, half relieved, half awash with embarrassment.
“Yes. But I found it.”
There was silence from behind her. He’d better not be looking at her butt…but she’d bet good money that he was.
“I wonder how many retweets this photo would get.”
He was.
“Don’t. Even.” Her own voice held the chill of death, which right now she’d happily administer with her bare hands….if she ever got out of here. But he laughed. And yes, there was a ring of satisfaction in the sound.
She gritted her teeth. “Just help me.” When he said nothing, she begrudgingly added, “Please.”
She felt him kneel behind her, so close to the red lace panties and her raised bottom…and despite the circumstances, a shock of lust darted through her body.
“Not like that!” She flinched away as far as she could—which wasn’t far. No way was she letting that sensation get a hold.
“I can’t reach otherwise,” he said. “You’re in the way.”
Damn, he was right. “Fine.”
He reached over the top of her back to push at the door, his hips pressing against her raised bottom, and she closed her eyes again. Thank God he couldn’t see her face right now—she was pretty sure it would totally give away her body’s betrayal. She tried to twist away from him, but at the same time he gave the door a powerful push-and-pull, and their combined movement only made them grind together in a spectacularly inappropriate way.
“Okay, maybe not,” he said, pulling back sharply.
There was a moment’s silence, during which she was acutely aware of the view he must have.
“This is awkward,” she said, stating the painfully obvious.
“Yeah.” She heard him stand up. “I’ll get a screwdriver and take the hinges off.”
“That’d be good.”
Within a minute or two he was back, and within five minutes he had the rusty old hinges unscrewed, and the door off. She backed out, tugging down her skirt and dusting off the dirt as she stood up. Mercifully, he had a shirt on this time.
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
As they stood on the grass, Velvet came wandering out and wound around Jacinda’s ankles, unaware of the fuss she’d caused and the tension that surged between them.
“That’s what you lost?” Liam asked.
“Yeah. Her kittens are in there. I’ll take them back to Nana Mac’s place.”
Velvet went to rub against him, and he bent to pat her, his face passing close to Jacinda’s bare legs in the mini. As if suddenly realizing it, he stood up abruptly. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she echoed.
She ran a hand through her hair, feeling a spiderweb tangle in her fingers. Just get the kittens, get back over the fence, and be done with it. It was only a couple of hours ago that they’d slammed into their past, and at this point there was nothing more she wanted to say, or hear.
But neither of them moved.
The rays of the sun were making her skin tingle with heat, but that other kind of heat was making her tingle in an entirely different way. Below the sound of the cicadas singing, the silence between them was palpable.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sorry about the interruption,” she said, aiming for briskness to counteract her rising desire. “And thanks again. I’ll let you get back to…whatever you were doing.” She had no idea what he was doing here in Sweet Breeze Bay.
But still he stood there, looking at her. She shifted her weight and bit her lip, thrown. She hadn’t bargained on any of this—on him being here, or the effect he had on her. And back in the physical territory of the past, with the shock of Ethan’s death still fresh, she was in danger of slipping into the old doubts she’d worked so hard to leave behind…
Realizing what was happening gave her the clarity to remember anew. She wasn’t that teenager anymore. She was Jacinda, a grown woman, and she was also Cin Scott, strong enough to build a career in one of the toughest businesses around. What had happened here was terrible, but even though her actions were tangled up in Liam’s pain, she couldn’t let him bring her back down. The guilt and regret and what-ifs would have to be faced, but she couldn’t go back. She stood taller, ready to make a move.
But then his expression changed—the blue of his eyes seeming to intensify, a frown creasing his brow—and in that second, she thought she knew what was going to happen.
He wouldn’t, surely.
Oh, but he would.
He stepped forward…and she didn’t step away.
The rush of the ocean, just over the hedge, was nothing compared to the rush of sensation that hit her as their lips met. All the wrongness of it was swamped by an irresistible charge of lust and exhilaration. For a few moments she lost all her bearings, any thoughts of who she was, or had been, or might be, gone. There was only him, his mouth insistent against hers, his fingers holding her chin, his body so close, but not quite touching. She let her lips part, and as the kiss crossed that line into blurry, desperate need, their tongues found each other, and he pressed his body to hers. With her back against the house, and her front against the hard, hot length of him, she couldn’t stop a moan from escaping.
At that sound, he seemed to snap out of it. He broke away and took a step back, looking at her now as though she’d sprung from some alternate reality. Which, in a way, she had. She put her fingertips to her lips, and blinked in what felt like slow motion as her mind refocused. He’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back. Hell, that was so not right. Not right in a way that was insanely good. But…still wrong. And his expression now showed how wrong he thought it was too.
“I know who you are,” he said. His tone was flat.
“No, you don’t,” she said, her voice steely again in response to his sudden turnaround. His face was proof of how much he must be regretting what just happened, but she refused to let him see either the way it had rocked her, or the sharp ache it left in her heart. If he’d kissed her as some kind of test, she wouldn’t submit to the measurement. “Don’t you dare make assumptions about a person you don’t even know.”
“I’m not assuming anything. You’re Cin Scott.”
Hearing her alter ego’s name gave her a jolt of shock, but she revealed none of it. She couldn’t decide if that name on his lips sounded like an accusation or a threat, but she lifted her chin. When she spoke, the challenge in her tone was clear: don’t mess with me.
“No. Not here, I’m not. Here, I’m Jacinda. I’m me.”
He narrowed his eyes, a shadow in the vibrant blue. “You could be.”
She didn’t stop to ask what the hell he meant. Time to get what she’d come for. She crouched down sideways, ignoring him, and carefully shuffled under the house. Velvet was sitting next to the kayak, so she gathered the kittens up in the blanket, and carried them out as gently as she could.
When she emerged, there was no sign of him. Well, good.
Good.
As she walked back to number ten nursing her bundle of kitteny goodness, with Velvet tagging anxiously along, she tried not to think about the moan that had escaped her as his tongue met hers. She didn’t know why he’d play that game—but he’d got the better of her, and he knew it.
It wouldn’t happen again.