92 Pacific Boulevard

“No,” Teri said, gesturing dismissively with her hand. “It’s me.”

“You’re—”

“The doctor said my blood pressure would fluctuate and I’d have off days. Apparently this is one of those days and the kidlets are making sure I know they’re there. But it’s nothing to worry about.”

Despite her sister’s reassurances, Christie was worried. She shouldn’t have ignored Teri’s attempts to reach her. As a result, her sister had come in search of her. In every likel-ihood Teri had gone against doctor’s orders by leaving the house, and all because Christie refused to pick up the phone.

The coffeemaker made a gurgling noise, signaling that the brewing was complete. Christie grabbed a mug, inspecting it to be sure it was clean before filling it to the brim. She pulled Teri’s tea water out of the microwave and brought both to the table, along with a decaffeinated herbal tea bag, and sat across from her sister.

“All right, talk to me,” Christie said and sipped her coffee, gasping as it burned her lips.

Teri slowly breathed in and out, her eyes closed. “I blame you for this.”

“Me? What’d I do?” She did blame herself but wasn’t prepared to admit it.

“All … all you think about is yourself.” For a moment it sounded as if Teri was about to break into tears. Her voice quavered and her lower lip started to tremble.

Christie blinked. Teri was the strong, determined one in the family, and not usually given to emotional outbursts. Christie was the volatile sister—and this role reversal made her uncomfortable.

Whatever was bothering Teri, she couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“What did I do?” Christie repeated.

Teri fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose with an inelegant honk before stuffing the tissue back into her purse. “You never thought about Bobby’s feelings or mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“We miss James, too. Bobby hardly knows what to do with himself. You’re not the only one who’s hurting!”

Her sister was right. Christie hadn’t stopped to consider what James’s leaving had meant to Bobby and her sister. James had been Bobby’s closest friend for many years. He was Bobby’s confidant as well as his driver.

Recently an enterprising reporter had revealed that James was once a chess prodigy himself, and that he’d suffered an emotional collapse in his early teens and spent time in a mental institution. Afterward he’d disappeared from the chess world. When the news story broke, Bobby’s friend had panicked and run.

The fact that James had deserted her and Bobby and Teri was cruel enough. And Christie knew she hadn’t been much comfort to them because she was too devastated by what he’d done. She’d tried not to fall in love with him; again and again she’d rebuffed him, and still he’d pursued her.

James was unlike any man she’d ever known. He hadn’t rushed her into bed, although she would’ve gone willingly if he’d asked. He didn’t. Instead, he’d broken down her resistance, bit by bit, ever patient, undemanding and kind. No woman, no matter how emotionally strong, could resist such tender persuasion. Christie certainly couldn’t.

Just before he disappeared, she’d laid out her past to him and she hadn’t prettied it up, either. She’d told him everything, about the men she’d been with, the marriage that had crumbled under the weight of alcoholism and physical abuse. She’d left nothing out. If he was going to love her and be part of her life, she didn’t want anything hidden in the shadows, to leap out at some unexpected time.

James had listened quietly, had held her and kissed her—and hadn’t said a single word about his own history.

Christie had offered him her trust, something she’d sworn she’d never give another man. She’d even started thinking about being married to James, having a baby with him… . What hurt so badly was that he hadn’t loved her enough to share his past.

Well, that was that. Another painful lesson learned. James was out of her life now.

For good.

It didn’t matter if he returned, and everyone seemed to assume that eventually he would. She was through.

“You didn’t come for Christmas,” Teri complained. Apparently it still rankled that Christie had missed the big family get-together. But as far as Christie was concerned, Christmas dinner with her ragtag family wasn’t any real loss.

“I was volunteering, remember?” This was true, but she’d already decided not to show up at Teri and Bobby’s place before she made that arrangement.

Teri looked over at her with big brown doe-eyes. “You were … volunteering?”

“Yeah. I told you. I served meals in Tacoma at the homeless shelter.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I delivered Christmas baskets to needy families, too, but that was before Christmas.”

Teri shocked her when she suddenly began to laugh. “And I accused you of not paying attention to me. I’m almost as bad. I completely forgot you were doing that. Here I thought you were probably in some tavern, instead of with Bobby and me.”

“No way.” She hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but at Christmas she’d still felt emotionally shaky. Being with Teri and Bobby was risky—there were too many memories associated with James at her sister’s home. And it was hard to watch those two, with their romantic bliss and cozy domestic life. Her pain was too close to the surface. She was better now, stronger than she’d been in a long while.

“Then why haven’t you answered my calls?”

Christie didn’t have an explanation for that. All right, so maybe she wasn’t as strong as she thought.

“You’re drinking?”

“A few beers. Don’t worry, I didn’t get drunk.” Although she’d downed enough alcohol to leave her with a killer headache. She figured the booze had affected her like this because she hadn’t been drinking much lately.

“You were too drunk to drive.”

Christie denied that. She wasn’t stupid; she knew her limit.

Teri didn’t seem to believe her. “Then why is your car at The Pink Poodle?”

“It wouldn’t start.” Christie didn’t want to think about that piece of junk. Every day the engine fired to life was a day to be grateful for.

A few months ago, James had managed to jury-rig it into running again but there were too many things wrong with her sad excuse for a car.

“How’d you get home?”

“Someone gave me a ride.”

Teri’s gaze shot toward the bedroom.

“No one spent the night, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Teri had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “But it wouldn’t be the first time if someone did,” she muttered.

Christie couldn’t argue with that. When it came to men she was batting zero. As Teri had once said, Christie attracted losers the way an ice cream truck attracts children. Not that Teri should talk; she’d been fortunate enough to break the pattern of harmful and unfulfilling relationships when she met Bobby. Christie had been so sure that James was her Bobby… . He wasn’t.

Teri drank some of her tea and sent Christie a smile. “I’m glad you weren’t alone over Christmas.”

“I am, too. It helped, you know?” Christie took a tentative sip of coffee.