JAMESON LEANED HIS elbows back on the ancient quilt he and Kendra had spread on Rat Beach—so named not because of rodents, but because it was the beach Right After Torrance. The day was chilly but the sun was warm, and as always the beach was not at all crowded. Frankly, if he could lie next to Kendra on a blanket he would do so even in Antarctica. She was leaning back in the same position he was, her hair a thick curtain between her head and the quilt, making him want to put his hands into it, feel it spreading across his chest...
She’d picked him up after her last appointment and they’d gotten takeout and brought Byron to the beach. They’d been chatting pretty easily during dinner, but there was still underlying tension. There probably would be until they settled into the rules of phase three of the Kendra-Jameson relationship—from grade school enemies to counselor and client to...whatever this was going to be.
Jameson was hanging back until he found out. The chemistry between them had made it pretty obvious maintaining a professional relationship wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t see her without wanting to touch her, kiss her and...yeah, um, a lot more than that. Hell, he felt that way about her even when she was out of sight.
But this was more than a simple working out of male-female urges. He liked Kendra a lot. He respected her. He wanted to find out more about her life since high school, how she’d weathered the tragedy of losing her parents and what she wanted for her life in the future—whether that could involve a long-distance relationship. And lately he’d found himself wanting to protect her. To keep her safe from the big bad guys of life. To be the one she turned to for advice and support.
Not great ingredients for a casual two-week fling. Yet the thought of ending whatever this turned out to be was nearly as ridiculous as thinking about waiting twenty years to live with her again in the same town.
Behind them Byron let out an impatient woof. Kendra groaned and dragged herself to sitting. “I should let him run around. Why didn’t you stop me after I’d eaten enough for three people?”
“I was too busy eating for seven.” Jameson surveyed the wreckage strewn around them. Thai food. Decimated. The battle had been long and delicious, starting with tom yum kai soup, a spicy flavorful broth brimming with shrimp, straw mushrooms and cilantro; then fiery, rich red curry with beef; and finally pad thai, rice noodles slightly sour from tamarind juice, rich with peanuts and egg and refreshed with lime and bean sprouts.
“C’mon, Byron.” She got to her feet and untied his leash, then headed for a corner of the quilt. “I have a present for you, Jameson. Want it now?”
“A present?” He pretended childlike eagerness. “Where? What is it?”
“Here. Wait.” She reached into her bag and came up with an old chewed-up dog toy.
“Ooh, slobbery tennis ball, thank you!” He grinned at the look she sent him.
“That would be for Byron. This...” She pulled out a sketch pad and a variety of pens, pencils and charcoal. “...is for you. While I let Byron go nuts off leash, you go nuts on paper.”
“Kendra. Wow. Thank you.” He took the art supplies from her, admiring the thick sheets of paper, the sharpened high-quality drawing implements. She must have made a special trip to an art store to buy them for him. More touched than he should be, he pretended sudden suspicion. “Wait, this is therapy. I thought you weren’t treating me anymore.”
She stood with Byron’s leash, making the dog shoot to his feet, wiggling all over with excited anticipation. “You don’t think friends should help each other?”
Friends? Was that what she’d decided they were? He couldn’t blame her, given that he had nothing to offer her but the next two weeks. Yet he couldn’t help a sharp jab of disappointment. “I don’t want you to do your job and not get paid.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I want you to draw me something.” She staggered as Byron pulled in the direction of the water. “Then I think we need to take a long walk and burn off one or two of the sixty thousand calories we just ate. If your knee is up to it.”
“Absolutely.” His knee had been improving rapidly. Sometimes he wondered if Kendra had affected its recovery as positively as she’d affected his attitude. He only had minor pain now, though he was still careful and did his home exercises diligently, lengthening his stationary bike and treadmill sessions gradually and sensibly, even while his body was yelling at him to push to the limit or he’d fall behind.
But Dr. Kornish had told him horror stories about doing too much too soon. No, thanks.
Speaking of Dr. Kornish, his nurse had called that morning to check on Jameson’s progress. When Jameson had praised the work Kendra had done on Dr. Kornish’s behalf, the nurse had had no idea what he was talking about.
Smiling, he watched Kendra unhook Byron’s leash and race with him down to the water. A sweetness came over him that he hadn’t felt in way too many years. Self-consciously, he flipped up the cover of the sketch pad, still squinting at woman and dog and water. Jameson hadn’t put pencil to paper since college when he’d designed a publicity poster for a friend’s variety show. However, his incredibly sexy ex-counselor “friend,” whom he desperately wanted as a lover, had requested he draw for her, so he would.
He let his gaze focus, wander, allowing his artistic eye to take over. Cliffs, palm trees, ocean, surfers and an auburn-haired laughing beauty, legs long, body slender, strong arm throwing a tennis ball into the waves for a crazed canine over and over.
His pencil moved swiftly, a few lines for her torso, the curve of her back, catching her bending to the dog in welcome, skirt blowing in the breeze, hair streaming behind her. Horizon, sea, sky—the page went up and over. Again he drew, this time capturing her larger center frame, stretched in the act of throwing, her body a graceful arc, texture for her hair, her clothes. Up and over. Then again, the strong breadth of her shoulders, the contour of her breasts, the sensual flare of her hips. Up and over. Her head in profile, full mouth stretched in a smile, faintly freckled straight nose ending in a sweet point, cheekbone shaded high, long-lashed eye suggesting joy, brow an expressive slash, hair spilling back in a generous tangle.
She was beautiful. He must have noticed in high school. Beyond the few extra pounds, the heavy dark glasses, the serious demeanor. He must have seen her, internalized her features. How else would he be able to draw this face from memory so easily?
“Can I see?”
Jameson started and hid the drawing instinctively. He hadn’t seen or heard her approach. “Not yet.”
“You okay for a few more minutes? I want to put Byron in the car.”
“Sure.”
He watched her walk, hips twisting saucily to gain traction in the sand. His fingers itched to draw her again.
Up and over.
This time he embarked on a full portrait, working the details of a more distant memory. Kendra, cheeks and chin fuller, brows thicker, mouth a line of determination and strength, eyes direct and assessing behind black plastic.
The face he’d encountered many times, most recently after he’d stolen the election from her their senior year. He’d never forget it or how she’d made him feel that day.
A few more details, hair, then the plain collar of a gray shirt.
He glanced over to see her coming back already, down the steep hill from the school parking lot up top. There was no hiding from her. She drew the best from him, goaded him to be his best self. Then and now.
How could he not be falling for her?
She was striding toward him, her smile reaching out. Jameson put away the pad, his instinct to stride over to meet her, scoop her up in his arms and bring her back to the quilt to make love to her. “Can I see now?”
“Later.” There was too much of himself and his feeling in the drawings. He wasn’t ready to share that yet. “After the walk.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Stalling, stalling.”
“Can if I want to.”
Her giggle at his childish chant made his day. He helped her pack up their leavings, then got to his feet, stretching his right leg, flexing it carefully. His knee still became unwieldy when it had been quiet for too long, but his range of motion was nearly back to normal.
In two weeks plus he’d be back on base. Another three to six months before he could hope to restart his specialty training program, depending on his physical performance and what openings they had for him. He wasn’t panicking quite the same way as he used to at the delay. He could probably credit Kendra with that, too.
Trash cleaned up, shoes left behind, they headed barefoot toward the water where the packed sand would make walking easier, then north toward Torrance Beach and the start of the South Bay bike trail, which he used to ride round-trip all the way to Santa Monica, slightly over twenty miles each way. Stunning ride. He’d like to do it with Kendra someday.
Someday. In the brief pockets of time when he’d be back over the next twenty years? They wouldn’t have the chance for a someday.
He grabbed her hand because he had to touch her, hold part of her as if to keep her with him. She was so beautiful striding next to him, legs swinging freely over the packed sand, hair flowing out behind her, green eyes catching the rays of the setting sun. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her skin looked so smooth and soft his lips ached for it. “I had an interesting phone call today.”
“Yeah? One of your Air Force buddies?”
“Dr. Kornish’s office.”
“Uh-oh.” Her eyes darkened in concern. “What was that about?”
“Just checking on me. Everything seems fine. I thanked his nurse for the fabulous treatment I’m getting from a Ms. Kendra Lonergan they’d never heard of.”
“Oh.” Her lips twisted. She sent him a sideways look. “How about that.”
“Yeah, how about that?”
She wrinkled her freckled nose, looking absolutely adorable but not horribly alarmed, not as though she’d told a horrendous lie and was about to be seriously busted. “I guess I should confess, huh.”
“Might be a good plan.”
“I’m an impostor, Jameson.” She threw up her hands in mock despair. “A fake, a phony, a fraud.”
He tsk-tsked, enjoying her melodrama. “How bad is it?”
“I’m really a grief counselor. I really have a practice in Palos Verdes Estates and beyond. I really do work in conjunction with therapists and many doctors. Just not Dr. Kornish. Or the Air Force.”
“Who sent you?”
“Does it matter?”
A lightbulb went off. He made a sound of exasperation. Who else would know and care enough to meddle? “Okay, which one?”
She looked at him in confusion. “Which one what?”
“Mom, Dad, Hayden, Mark or Matty?”
“Ah.” Her face turned prim but he saw her lips twitch. “Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to disclose the identity of the— Oh!”
He swung her around, pulled her into his arms and kissed her, hard and full on the mouth, dipping her back so she clutched his arm, afraid of falling.
She gasped when he pulled back. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.” He did so again, longer and sweeter this time, because as always once was not nearly enough.
“I know that, but—”
Twice wasn’t enough either. Her mouth was enticing, lips soft and responsive. His body reacted to their touch as if she’d been naked, performing an erotic dance on top of him. What would it be like to make love to her? He probably wouldn’t survive the experience. But he’d really, really like to try.
“Now are you ready to confess, Ms. Lonergan?”
“I’ll never talk. No matter how much you torture me.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “Though...you can keep trying.”
He grinned and let her stand straight, fitted her body full against his so she’d feel how much he wanted her. She gave a tiny whimper and pressed against his erection, nearly causing him to lose his mind.
Kissing was not going to be enough for long. He bent his forehead to hers and fought down the lust response. Public beach. Stopping was a good idea before he was tempted to take her right here and get them both arrested. And sandy. He took her hand again to continue their walk, making a mental note to turn back soon. To take her back to his place, her place, any place that had a bedroom. And a bed.
He imagined her naked, that glorious hair spread out around her, around them both, and gave a silent groan.
“You okay? Is it your knee?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Oops. Apparently not a silent groan. What had they been talking about? “So some Cartwright committed the mortal sin of wanting to help me.”
Kendra pressed her lips together, which pouted them out slightly and made him want to taste them again. “Certainly possible.”
“And he or she figured I’d be about as welcoming as a bear woken from hibernation if I knew a family member sent you.”
She knitted her brows, sent him a sidelong look. “That is a logical supposition.”
“And so this Cartwright decided you should tell me this was an Air Force doctor–led program so that I’d feel I had no choice but to put up with you.”
“Well, Jameson.” She tapped a thoughtful finger to her lips. “I suppose that would make sense in the abstract, but of course I can’t really say.”
He shook his head, grinning, and pulled her closer in order to bump her away again with his hip. “It’s devious, untruthful and yes, I suppose given the circumstances it makes sense.”
“It does. I mean, imagine me showing up when you were so down and miserable and saying, hey, I know! Let’s do some counseling! Really, it’ll be fun!”
He made a face. “I see your point.”
“You were so down, and so disgusting to be around and so-o-o—”
“Uh, yeah. Right. I get it.” He glared at her, dropped her hand then pulled her closer, arm around her waist. “What convinced you to help me?”
“The money.”
He forced a laugh, annoyed at himself. What, he’d expected her to say, Oh, Jameson, you know how you’ve always been special to me!
Actually, that would have been great. “Money, huh?”
“It’s all I live for.” She nudged to show she was teasing. “Really, I was curious. I wanted to see the great and powerful Jameson Cartwright brought low.”
“By a cat.”
She smiled, eyes sparking mischief, skirt swirling enticingly just above her knees. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve been able to mention that species.”
He faked a shudder. “Evil creatures. Demon spawn.”
“Have you always felt that way?”
“Nah. I like cats. Used to like cats.”
They walked on. He sensed her withdrawing into thought, surprised at how easily he could read her moods and body language.
“Actually.” She was looking down now, concentrating on the flat sand under her feet. “I’ve been thinking of getting a dog for a while. Though I hate to give up working with Byron.”
“Why don’t you get one?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned as the incoming tide brought a wave close to her toes. “Sometimes...I’m afraid it’s because I’m scared.”
“Of dogs?” He knew that wasn’t the answer, spoke gently to encourage her. Her struggle to confide in him made him want to put his arms around her and make her whole world safe. Twenty years. Damn it.
“Of losing one.”
Jameson took time to process that, slowing as the next wave led a mighty charge and sloshed cold water over their feet. She couldn’t bear to fall in love with a pet only to have it leave her. Like her parents had left. Like Jameson would, in two weeks.
A frisson of panic climbed his spine. There wasn’t enough time. Not enough to get serious. Not enough to lay any claim to Kendra after he was gone. She’d be free to meet someone else when she was ready. Fall in love. Have kids.
The thought was eating him up, and he’d done nothing more than kiss her.
But then, he hadn’t been able to think calmly about Kendra Lonergan since he was six years old.
“Give yourself more time. You’ll be able to love again someday. Look how your whole life is structured around caring for people. It’s in your nature.”
“Yes. But I would like to be able to do it now.” She sounded vulnerable, shy, totally unlike the Kendra he knew.
“Maybe you can.”
“Jameson...”
He reacted on pure instinct, reached for her and locked her in his arms, held her tightly, cold water swirling around their feet, splashing up on their lower legs, pulling at their ankles as it retreated, leaving bubbling patterns in the water and rivulets in the sand.
This time their kiss was different. He wasn’t sure how at first, only that it wiped his brain clean, dwindled the world to the two of them and their mouths, their breath, the moisture on their lips and a powerful connection that sprang to life.
Awed—nearly overwhelmed—he pulled back. For a second before she masked it, he saw the same fear and vulnerability on Kendra’s face that he’d heard in her voice.
“We’re talking about a dog, right?” Her eyes were serious on his.
“Of course a dog.” He kept his gaze on her, equally serious. “What else would we be talking about?”
The ghost of a smile curved her delicious mouth. “No idea.”
He leaned down, rested his forehead on hers again. “Would you like to come over to Mike’s place, Kendra?”
“I was going to invite you to mine,” she whispered. “I need to take Byron back to Lena’s. It’s only a few blocks away.”
“I’d like that.” He straightened, trailed fingers down the side of her face, then turned and walked with her back toward their quilt, thinking about the night to come.
And it occurred to him in a rush of certainty that he’d been in love with Kendra Lonergan his whole life. And that he had only two weeks to prove to her she could love again—and that she’d always belonged with him.