Long-Lost Mom Page 14

  He complied, his face a mask as he took in her bright blue eyes.

  She fluffed her fingers through her short hair. “Imagine me with that long blond hair,” she said quietly. “In that thin, malnourished body I was always depriving.”

  “No.”

  “Minus nearly ten years,” she added. “Without all this makeup I use to cover up the—Never mind that now. Just look, Stone. Really look, past all the exterior.” She stood there, heart and soul bared. Terrified. “Who do you see?”

  “My God.” He gripped the counter behind him, and his chest expanded as he drew in a breath with obvious difficulty. “Oh, my God. But how?”

  “A car accident.”

  “You were in a car accident and got a new face?”

  “Not exactly. It was the surgery required to put me back together after I went through a windshield and down a two-hundred-foot cliff.”

  Before she could draw a breath, he was there, standing in front of her, yanking her against him and slamming his mouth down on hers.

  His hands held her face as his tongue dipped into her mouth. Helpless, she wrapped her arms tightly around his midsection and opened to him.

  The hard counter he pressed her against dug into her back while the hard bulge between his thighs dug into her front. But it was wrong. Something was missing.

  The warmth, she realized. He held her, he kissed her, yet utterly without care and affection. She pushed away, needing to see his face.

  His hand dipped into her collar and pulled out the pearls she wore, which he stared at with barely repressed violence. “I knew I’d recognized these. They were your grandmother’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe that’s a lie, too.” His hands clasped her waist and with one swift motion, he had her blouse out of her pants.

  “What—”

  But he cut off her question ruthlessly, with that knowing, exacting, mind-blowing mouth of his. When she shoved at him, he nuzzled her neck beneath her ear. “You’re good, Cindy. Jenna. Whoever the hell you are. Very good. But I suppose you’ve had lots of practice.”

  Jenna squeezed her eyes shut at the insulting words. The accusation was ugly, and it hurt unbearably, especially coming from him. Stone. The man whose touch could send her soaring, whose voice had been a part of her dreams for so long she couldn’t remember what it’d been like before him. He’d been gentle and passionate, tender and fierce, and she wanted all those things now, along with his understanding. “Please, Stone—”

  “Don’t ask me for mercy.” He tore the button of her pants open, then jerked down the zipper, while shock held her immobile. Slipping his hand inside, he tugged at her panties.

  “Stone! No...”

  Before she could voice the protest, he’d dropped to his knees before her, staring bleakly at her exposed hip—and the small tattoo of a rose.

  Swearing, he got up and jerked away from her, leaving her to clumsily right her clothes. Unwittingly she lifted a hand to the right side of her face, covering the faint scars. “Do you see me now?” she asked bitterly. “The real me?”

  “Yes.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. The fingers on the hand gripping the counter were turning white with strain. His voice had gone cold. “Now get out.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve had your fun, Jenna. Or should I say Cindy? Damn you!” He turned away in disgust to stare unseeingly out the window into the darkness. “You must have gotten a good laugh.”

  “No. No,” she said hoarsely, moving closer to the man whose shoulders had always carried far too much responsibility. She set a hand on his taut back and ran it over muscles that quivered beneath her touch. “No—”

  “Don’t,” he said harshly, and she dropped her hand.

  Rounding on her, he grabbed her arms and gave her a shake. “Don’t touch me. Not like that. Like you mean it. Not ever again, damn you.”

  “I...I do mean it,” she gasped, letting the burning tears fall. She let go of all pride. “Stone, please, listen. Let me tell you—”

  “No!” As if he couldn’t help himself, he shook her again, then let go abruptly when she winced. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly horrified. “That was unforgivable of me.”

  “Stone.”

  He lifted his hands away from her as if he’d been burned. “I want you to leave.”

  “Don’t be sorry!” she cried. “I deserve—”

  He swore again, more creatively this time, then covered his eyes as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her. “Go,” he demanded wearily. “Just go.”

  “But you have to listen!”

  “Listen?” he asked incredulously, dropping his hands. “Listen to what? To why you’ve come back now after all this time? Or how about why you didn’t tell me who you really were? You let me think—God!”

  “Stone—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Unless, of course, you’re ready to stop lying and tell me the truth.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “The hell you didn’t.” His voice lowered, dripping with rage and sarcasm. “You lied every time you looked at me and let me think you were another woman. Every time you spoke or smiled, it was a lie.” His face darkened. “Every time you touched me, let me touch you... a damn lie.”

  “No,” she said. “It was wrong not to tell you right away, I know that. But the rest, oh, Stone, the rest. It was the only truth in my life. Please believe me.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said politely, with a chill that frightened her, “if I don’t ever believe another word you say.”

  “When we...at your office...” Her breath escaped her when his expression changed, going from fury to anguish in less than a heartbeat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wanted to tell you before we did, but...”

  “But it was such wild animal sex you couldn’t catch your breath enough to enlighten me?”

  “Don’t.” His anger sparked her own. “Don’t belittle it like that. We made—”

  “Wrong. Love is when two people are being honest. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Oh, he knew how to cut deep. “You can call it whatever you want,” she told him shakily. “But what we did in your office wasn’t some cheap one-night stand. It wasn’t just animal sex. It was...”

  When she fell silent, he arched his brow, daring her to continue.

  Damn him for being so stubborn. “It was...”

  “You haven’t changed much, Jenna. Still can’t use the L-word.” He let out a short harsh laugh. “It’s called love, and you know what? I don’t expect you to understand it.” He shook his head in disgust. “Well, now I get the secrecy about your past—you couldn’t have been more vague. And why you kept forgetting to answer to your own name—that threw me. But refusing to take off your clothes until the lights were off. Hell, that makes perfect sense now. Of course you wanted the dark.” He wrenched himself around, away from her. “This is pretty unbelievable, even for you.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I hauled you out of anonymity, forcing you away from that basketball game to have pizza. Then I twisted your arm, making you continue to have contact with me. Which you just hated, right?”

  At his hard unrelenting glare, she swallowed. “Of course not. But—”

  “Just go.”

  “I won’t,” she said firmly, though her voice trembled. “Not until you listen. I intended to tell you who I was, but—”

  “But what? It was so much more fun to torture me?”

  There was far more than his rage here, which was what gave her the courage to continue to face him down. Shimmering behind his anger was a deeper, more frightening emotion—unbearable pain. “I was afraid,” she adnutted.

  That stopped him, for it wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. All of a sudden just looking at her nearly brought him to his knees. He had no idea how he could feel so much anger, so much pain, so much need for her all at the same time.

  But he did.
>
  She’d asked if he could see the real her. Oh, yeah, he could see her clearly now. Agonizingly so.

  Uncertain blue eyes that wrenched at his gut. A mouth made to drive a man crazy, he thought as he watched her chew on her lower lip. It was seeing the little things after so long that nearly blew him away. Such as the way she was wringing her hands, just as she always did when anxious or nervous.

  God, it was her. Jenna.

  The woman who’d haunted him for ten long years.

  It was impossible to divide the pain and rage; they just mingled, the emotion crushing him until he could hardly breathe.

  “You were afraid.” He laughed coldly, even as his heart squeezed at the look of utter dejection on her face. “Not that I believe you, but of what?”

  “You” was the wrenching reply.

  “You couldn’t have thought I would hurt you—you know better than that,” he said quietly, stung.

  “No. I was afraid you’d turn me away.”

  “Why would you think that? You’re the one who left.”

  “And you know why.”

  “Yes. Because you were a coward.”

  She flinched and he felt like the biggest jerk on earth, which didn’t improve his temper. “You acted like a child,” he said.

  “I was!”

  “Not completely.” Stone derived no satisfaction when she blushed and turned away. “You didn’t trust me.”

  “Don’t you see?” she cried, throwing up her hands and turning back. “I didn’t trust anyone.”

  “What I see,” he said carefully, coming closer, “is someone too wrapped up in herself to care what she did to others when she left.”

  Fire spit out her eyes. Fire and tears, which he refused to allow to soften him.

  “You’re being unfair, Stone.”

  “Am I?” he asked softly, completely unprepared for her taking that last step between them.

  Without warning she poked a hard finger into his chest, punctuating each word with a stab. “Don’t you get it? I hated everyone. Everyone. I hated...”

  He grabbed her hand, but she just stabbed him with the other. “I hated my mother, my sister...”

  Stone caught her other hand and they grappled for a moment, before she collapsed against him completely.

  “I hated myself,” she admitted hoarsely. “Just hated myself.”

  Trying to remain unmoved was difficult, because he was moved, dammit. And he didn’t want to be. Gripping her upper arms, he held her away from him, unable to deal with the pull of their physical attraction at the same time as all this hot steaming rage. “You ran away, instead of dealing with it. You left us. You forgot about me, about your daughter, and you left.”

  She broke away, shoving at him. “Yes. Yes, I ran away. I was a jerk. God! Do you think I need you to remind me?” Plunging her fingers into her short hair, she turned from him. “Not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of it. When I haven’t wondered how I could have handled it differently, how my life would be now if I had.”

  “So what now?” he asked wearily, sinking into a chair. “Why are you here?”

  “Well, at least you’re not asking me to leave anymore.” She shot him a hesitant half smile.

  “Don’t,” he said, closing his eyes to that hopeful expression on her beautiful face. He couldn’t take it. “Don’t think I’m over it. You lied. You made me feel for you again, dammit, and I didn’t want to.”

  “I don’t want you to get over me.”

  “I got over what I felt for you as Jenna a long time ago,” he assured her flatly, hardening himself to her pain. “Now tell me the truth for once. Why are you here after all this time? Bored? Or do you just want to mess with some more lives?”

  She looked at him through tears and regret, and again he had to remind himself to remain unmoved. This wasn’t Cindy, the woman he had thought he was falling in love with. This was Jenna, the woman he’d sworn never to forgive.

  “I want to right my wrongs.”

  “You want in on Sara’s life.”

  “That, too.”

  “No,” he said firmly, shaking his head and tightening his jaw until his teeth hurt. “No way.”

  Her mouth worked, but it took a moment for her to get the words out. “Why not?”

  “You’ll hurt her—”

  “Never!”

  “—again,” he finished.

  “No, I won’t. Please,” she beseeched softly, her eyes huge. “Just listen to me.”

  “Oh, please,” he growled, shoving away from the table to pace the floor. “Don’t even try to tell me you won’t run off when the going gets tough. And believe me, with a ten-year-old, it can get quite difficult. I won’t have you hurt her. No possible way.”

  “But I can explain—” She followed his wild pacing, jumping when he turned so fast he nearly bowled her over.

  “Can you explain why you stayed away for ten years?”

  “A year ago, I—”

  “Not a year, Jenna, ten years.” He folded his arms over his chest, blocking himself off from her. The minute she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted her, unable to keep his tongue. “God, what an idiot I am. Asking about your past, about your parents. About you. Not Cindy, you!”

  “No! It’s different, I’m not that same girl you once knew. I think differently. I react differently. I—”

  “Is that right?” he interrupted her. “I don’t think so, Jenna. To me, you acted pretty predictably.”

  “Let me tell you all of it. Then maybe you’ll see.” Once again she touched the side of her face, covering the faint web of scars.

  Stone’s gaze followed the movement. “I’d let you tell me, Jenna, because I imagine it’s quite an amazing story. But to tell you the truth, I’m not interested in where you were and what you were doing while I was here raising our daughter.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “If that’s true, you couldn’t have stayed away so long.”

  “What scared me so much ten years ago has not changed. We were soulmates then, and we still are. We are,” she insisted when he turned from her. “And now you’re the scared one.”

  For a minute Stone couldn’t answer, couldn’t even move. She was right on that score, he thought bitterly. He’d given both heart and soul to that seventeen-year-old girl, and he was terrified at how close he’d come to giving them to the grown Jenna ten years later.

  He’d allowed her to nearly destroy him—again.

  Apparently she was willing to pull on whatever heartstrings she could reach in order to railroad him into falling for this act of hers. He’d felt that light touch of hers on his back, felt his body react to it, and the memory further ignited his anger.

  “Please, Stone, if I ever meant anything to you, please listen to me now. Let me tell you my story, and then we’ll go from there.”

  God, no. If he did, if he allowed himself to look into her fathomless eyes and listen to her husky emotion-riddled voice, if he allowed himself to feel for her again, she would finish off the job she’d nearly accomplished the last time.

  “Stone.”

  He could hear her fear, her utter vulnerability, and he didn’t want to. Holding on to his anger like a drowning man, he ignored her. He went directly to the back door and jerked it open.

  Standing there holding it, he silently invited her to go out into the cold night and leave him alone.

  “That’s it?” she asked incredulously. “You find out who I am, you decide you don’t like it much, and you’re done? Just like that?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re not being fair.”

  “Let’s not get started on that issue, Jenna.” He said her name as if it were a filthy word.

  “I have things to tell you.”

  “Too late. I want you to get out.”

  His face was hard, closed off to any emotion except anger. He wasn’t going to listen. He was going to kick her out, and every nightmare she’d ever had was about to come true
.

  Failure rose up and nearly strangled her. Slowly, hoping he’d say or do something, anything, to stop her, she walked toward the door. On the threshold, sandwiched between the warm cozy kitchen and the cold night air, she stopped and looked at him.

  Her shoulder brushed his chest, and at the contact, he drew in a breath and held it.

  It was just a tiny insignificant movement.

  But hope flared through her, for he was not as immune to her as he wanted to be. “Good night, Stone,” she said quietly.

  “Don’t you mean goodbye?”

  “No, just good night.” Taking a chance, she touched him, set her hand on the tight unbreathing chest and felt the steady drum of his heart.

  Needing more, she dug her fingers, just a little, desperately wanting to feel everything she could.

  And his heart sped up.

  She smiled through her tears and whispered, “This isn’t over. It can’t be over.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Shaking her head, she raised herself on tiptoe and kissed his granite jaw.

  He brought his hands to her shoulders and set her away from him. “Don’t.”

  “I’m sorry.” She swiped at a tear. “I know you don’t believe it, but it’s true. Just go to sleep, Stone. Maybe in the morning you’ll feel differently. Maybe you’ll let me explain everything and then—”

  “No ‘then,’” he said roughly. “Don’t even think it.”

  “And then we can start to heal.”

  Before he could further break her heart by telling her that it was impossible, she ran down the steps. But luck had rarely been with her, and she heard him say, “Don’t come back here, Jenna. Ever.”

  Failure and despair washed over her as she made it to her car. But she didn’t let herself fall apart.

  Instead, she set her shaking hands on the wheel, peeled out of his driveway and let the highway take her away.

  Sara lay in bed in her grandmother’s huge wonderful house and wrapped herself around her pillow.

  Sleep wouldn’t come. She thought that maybe it was because she’d put the four marshmallows in her hot chocolate the way her grandma had said she could, then when her back was turned, she’d stuffed eight more into her mouth real quick.