SHE WANTED TO hold Clint’s hand, but she couldn’t.
Not in a cemetery, while mourning a tiny life that had been snuffed out before its time. Standing next to him would have to be enough.
Only it was so hard. Hard to remain there without touching him.
Curling her fingers into her palms, she forced them to stay by her sides as a chaplain she’d never met talked about life and death … commemorating a granddaughter she’d also never met.
A hand touched hers. Not Clint’s, but Chelsea’s. Her daughter’s fingers were icy cold, her expression grim, eyes moist with grief as the minister continued to speak.
“In the same way this marker serves as a reminder that a tiny life was placed into Your loving arms, we, like Marie Elizabeth Riley, need to place our trust and hope in You, the Author and Finisher of our faith, that we will one day see her as she was meant to be. Whole and full of life …”
The sudden rush of tears to eyes that had been dry took Jessi by surprise, overriding whatever else the chaplain was saying. She fumbled in her purse, letting go of Chelsea’s hand for a second as she searched for a tissue.
Clint, still, solemn and heartbreakingly handsome in a dark blue suit, pressed a handkerchief into her trembling hands. She glanced up at him to find him watching her, something dark and inscrutable in his gray eyes. Was he irritated at her for blubbering? But this baby would have been her first grandchild … would have probably survived if Chelsea had had access to health care.
And that was another thing that had driven her daughter crazy with guilt. All those what-ifs. If she had just spoken up … if she’d admitted she was pregnant, instead of fearing a reprimand or, worse, of being sent home in flurry of paperwork and inner shame … if she’d told her captors the truth. The baby’s father had never been notified. Chelsea saw no reason to cause trouble for a man with whom she’d had a one-night stand.
Jessi knew what that was like. She’d had two of them. Both with the same man.
The chaplain asked everyone to bow their heads, so Jessi closed her eyes. And felt a hand to her right clasp hers once again. Chelsea.
And then, out of nowhere, warm fingers enveloped her other hand, lacing between hers.
Clint.
Oh, God. The tears flowed all over again. She’d wanted to hold his hand, and he’d not only read her mind, he’d found a way to accomplish the impossible.
A flicker of hope came to life in her chest.
Maybe it wasn’t impossible. He had certainly made love to her like she’d meant something to him.
Then again, he’d done the same thing all those years ago. Maybe it was different now. They were both older. Wiser. They’d both lived through things many people never had to experience.
She tightened her grip around both hands, allowing herself to feel connected to him in a way that had nothing to do with sex. Or need. But was something deeper. More profound.
No.
Not happening.
And yet he’d made the impossible possible.
As the prayer went on, Clint gave her hand a quick squeeze, then released it.
When she peeked between her lashes, she saw that she wasn’t the only one who had a male hand linked with hers. The young man next to Chelsea stood so close their shoulders and arms touched. And his index finger was twined around her daughter’s.
She swallowed. Maybe, just maybe, she could let herself believe. Just like the chaplain said.
The seed took root and spread throughout her being, twisting around her heart and lungs until she wasn’t sure where they started and the belief ended. Maybe that was the way it was meant to be.
She could talk to Clint. Somehow find out if he felt the same way. Surely he did. Otherwise why would he have held her hand?
Because she’d been crying? Maybe. That was why it was important to talk to him. And she would. Just as soon as the service was over, and she’d made sure her daughter was okay. Her mom was at home. They still hadn’t told Chelsea about the circumstances behind the heart episode, and they’d both agreed to keep that quiet. Her mom also felt it was best for her to stay at home for this particular event. Neither of them wanted anything to mar the service. And although Jessi trusted Clint not to say anything, one of them could inadvertently let something slip without realizing it.
The prayer ended, and Chelsea took the white rose in her hand and gently kissed the bloom, then placed it across the bronze marker that had been set in the lush grass beside Larry’s grave. Grass that hadn’t needed to be turned up, since there was no body to bury this time. The back of Jessi’s throat burned. Larry would have loved his daughter. And his granddaughter, if he’d been able to see past his own hurt and pride. Two lives, needlessly lost.
But at least there was now a place where Chelsea could come and remember—along with a concrete bench that had been placed at the foot of the graves, a gift from her mother. She hoped they could come here each year and remember.
The service ended with a flautist from their church playing “Amazing Grace,” the light, bright sound of the instrument giving the hymn a sense of hope and peace. It’s what Chelsea had wanted, and as her daughter moved to stand beside the same young man as before, a quick glance was shared between the two of them. Jessi looked at him a little more closely. Surely it was a good thing that her daughter was beginning to look past the pain in her heart and see a future that was brimming with possibilities.
Like Jessi herself was?
When she gave Clint a sideways look, she saw that his attention was also on the pair. She could have sworn a flash of envy crossed his expression before disappearing. His gaze met hers, and he nodded to show her he had noticed, then he leaned close, his breath brushing across her ear as he murmured, “Try not to worry. Paul’s a good man.”
Words hung on the tip of her tongue, then spilled past her lips. “So are you, Clinton Marks.”
His intake of breath was probably not audible to anyone except him, but even so he froze for several seconds at her comment, while his brain played it over and over in that same breathy little whisper.
She thought he was a good man?
Emotion swelled in his throat, and he forced himself to stand up straight before he did something rash right in front of her late husband’s grave. Like crush her in his arms and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. Tell her that he loved her and would always be there for her.
As the last notes of the song died away, people began to filter out of the cemetery. Chelsea leaned over to Jessi and said, “I’ll see you later on at Nana’s?”
“I probably won’t be there for a few hours, okay? There’s something I need to do first,” said Jess.
“Okay.” The two women embraced for several long seconds then broke apart. Paul walked her daughter over to her car and held the door open, leaning over to tell her something before closing it.
“What do you have to do?” Clint asked.
If he was smart, he’d say his goodbyes right now before he got caught up in some kind of sentimental voyage that would end with him dragging her back to his place.
“I thought we might go back to my house for a little while.”
He waited for her to tack a valid reason on to the end of that phrase. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply waited for him to respond to the request. One that had come right on the heels of her other shocking comment.
He should end it right now. Cut her short before she could say anything else with a brusque, “Not a good idea and you know it.”
Right. He could no more bring himself to say something like that than the moon could grow an oxygen-rich atmosphere. Or maybe it could, because right now he was having trouble catching his breath and his head felt like it was ready shut down.
He glanced back at the markers, Larry’s name biting deep into his senses and grinding them into something he no longer recognized. Needing to get away before it took another chunk from him, he said, “Sounds good. Are you ready?”
“Do you want to follow me back?”
Honey, I’d follow you anywhere, if I could.
Maybe things weren’t as dire as he’d painted them. Would it be so bad if he and Jessi somehow tried to make a go of things?
That paper on his desk came to mind. He could just tear it up and dump it in his waste can, and no one would be the wiser.
The thought grew as they walked to the parking lot together. With no one else around, Clint took her hand again, gripping it with an almost desperate sense of reverence. This woman did it for him. She met him right at his point of deepest need. And she had no idea.
And if she wanted to go back to her place and discuss Chelsea’s case, he was going to be crushed with disappointment. Because he wanted her. In the past. Right now in the present. And in the days that stretched far into the future.
Whether or not any of that was possible was another matter. But maybe he shouldn’t worry about leaping right to the end of this particular book. Maybe he should turn one page at a time and savor each moment as it came.
Because who knew how long anything in this life was going to last? Wasn’t today a reminder of that?
He saw her to her car and smiled when he did the exact same thing young Paul had done. Opened her door for her and then leaned across it. Only instead of saying something, he kissed her. Right on the mouth. Right in the middle of a public parking lot.
And he didn’t give a rip who saw him.
One page at a time. And he was loving the current chapter because, instead of a quick peck and retreat, Jessi’s lips clung to his for several long seconds. When he finally forced himself to pull back, she gave him a brilliant smile. “I think we’re on the same page.”
A roll of shock swished through him. Coincidence. It had to be. Unless Jessi had suddenly become a mind-reader.
Then again, he found it pretty damned hard to hide his feelings from this particular woman. They bubbled up and out before he could contain them. That’s what had gotten him into trouble when they’d been in high school and again a couple of weeks ago. It was impossible to be near her and not want to touch her. Hold her. Make love to her.
He didn’t respond to her words, just said, “I’ll meet you at your house.” Because if he was wrong, if she wasn’t feeling the same deep-seated need that he was, he’d end up eating his words and feeling like a fool.
The fifteen-minute drive seemed to take forever, but finally she pulled into the driveway of her house. They got out of their cars and stared at each other for a minute before coming together.
Then he was reaching for her and dragging her into his arms, kissing her with a fervor he had no business feeling. But she kissed him back just as hard, her hands winding around his neck, going up on tiptoe so she could get closer.
Her tongue found his, leaving no doubt in his mind where her thoughts were headed. And that was fine by him, because his had been there for hours … weeks.
“Keys.” His muttered words were met with a jingle, then he swept her up in his arms and strode to the front door. “Unlock it.”
It gave him a thrill to note that her hands shook as she twisted around to do as he asked, because he knew his were trembling just as hard, along with every other part of his body. Half in anticipation of what was to come and half in fear that somehow it was all going to fall apart before they got inside … before he got the chance to strip her clothes from her body—in her bedroom this time—and drive her to the point of no return.
Because he was already there. There was no turning back from the emotions that were throbbing to life within him. He couldn’t bring himself to say them, so he would show her instead. With his mouth. With his hands.
With his heart.
And hope that somehow she’d be able to decipher their meaning.
He kicked the door closed, trying not to trip when Cooper suddenly appeared, barking wildly and winding around him. He let Jessi down long enough for her to let the dog out into the backyard before hauling her back up into his arms. This time he lifted her higher so that his mouth could slant back over hers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, her waist. Right on cue, her arms went back around his neck and she held on tight.
Clung as if she were drowning.
Well, so was he.
“Bedroom,” he muttered against her mouth. Could he not get anything out other than one- and two-word sentences?
Evidently not.
And if she was going to stop this parade, she had the perfect opportunity to drag her lips from his and tell him to put her down, that they were going to sit on that long sofa and talk.
She didn’t. “Down the hallway, first door on the right.”
Then she was kissing him again, her eyes flickering shut even as his had to remain open to avoid tripping over furniture or running into a wall as he made his way down the hallway and arrived at her bedroom. He paused in the doorway and eyed the space, noting the frilly pillows on the bed and the hinged frame that held two pictures on the nightstand. One of Jessi with another man. And one of her holding that man’s baby.
Larry.
His chest tightened, and he pulled back slightly, rethinking this idea.
“What’s wrong?” Her breathless reply washed over him.
He nodded at the nightstand, and she glanced in that direction and then tensed before looking back up at him. She shook her head. “It’s okay, Clint. He’s been gone a very long time.”
She didn’t say that she didn’t love him, or that Larry wouldn’t mind if he could see them.
Just that the man had been gone a long time.
He stood there, undecided. Could he lie in that bed and thrust inside her, while her dead husband watched them?
“Take me over there,” she murmured.
He didn’t want to. Wanted to suggest they go back to the familiar sofa in the living room. But his feet had ideas of their own. He carried her over to the small table and watched as she tipped the frame over onto its front so that the pictures were no longer visible.
“Better?” she asked, one corner of her mouth curling.
It was. A little, anyway. “Yes.”
“Okay, now put me on the bed—” her fingers sifted through the hair at the back of his neck, sending a shiver over him “—and take off all my clothes.”
“Your wish—” he wiped Larry from his mind and dropped her from where he stood, then smiled at the squeal she gave as she bounced on the mattress and lay there staring up at him “—is my command.”
She licked her lips. “Then come down here and start commanding me.”