Home At Last

This, this was real—

Or so she’d believed at the time, Kirsten reminded herself as she turned to gaze out the airplane window at an endless bank of white.

She knew better now.

She’d known better for eight years, and it no longer mattered. All that mattered now was her children.

She held that thought like a talisman for the rest of the flight and felt a vague sense of relief when they landed in Seattle. For the last hour she’d avoided any recollections of that summer with J.D. Ryder, any memories of those old, mistaken feelings…and what she could manage for an hour, she could manage for a day. Or even two.

But please, God, don’t let it take that long.

Chapter Three

“This shouldn’t take long,” J.D. told Kirsten, relieved that she was still sitting where he’d left her. For the past hour she’d been distracted, and he had the impression her stamina was fading fast. “They’re bringing the car up. Meanwhile, let’s get you some lunch.”

She reacted with the same edginess she’d shown when he suggested she sit down near the car-rental counter. “I don’t need lunch.”

But she hadn’t eaten anything this morning, and he’d seen the crack of light under her door all night long. “Yeah, you do,” he said, glancing around the concourse and gesturing at a bright red hamburger stand across the way. “And unless you want to dig into the boys’ peanuts…. Come on.”

“J.D.,” she protested, rising from her seat with the swift, fluid grace he’d always admired, “you don’t need to worry about me. We’re here to find the kids, and it’s only half an hour to Brad’s house.”

All the more reason to restore her energy before they began the search for leads. “Right, but you still need to eat.”

Kirsten fixed him with an impatient gaze. “Not now, all right? Not when we could be on the road.”

On the road…

Without warning, he felt himself spinning into a whirlpool of memory. The two of them on the road…it was a vivid image, one he’d tried to erase, but had never managed to forget. They’d spent such soaring, glowing time together, those afternoons in Tubac, that even now he could still feel the sensation of her arms around his waist while he drove home as slowly as he dared.

She’d never complained about the length of the trip, which had amazed and then delighted him. That Kirsten Taylor could enjoy his company with such genuine ease, could laugh at references no one else would have understood, could save up stories from work to share with him…it was the kind of pleasurable intimacy he’d thought existed only in daydreams, but the summer after graduation it blessed him every afternoon.

She was so different from anyone else he’d known, because she never so much as hinted that his appeal lay in the thrill of forbidden fruit. He was used to that, had seen that flirtatious defiance from all but the girls who recognized him as their own kind, but with Kirsten he had the feeling that what she liked about him was…himself. Exactly the way he was. And with her, J.D. knew, he was more of what he wanted to be. Stronger. Gentler. More alive, more aware—oh, yeah, definitely more aware.

He wouldn’t let himself pursue that awareness except in fantasy, and she never hinted about extending an afternoon into a night. Yet as much as he admired her innocence, J.D. couldn’t help suspecting—after the kiss they’d shared—that a single spark would send her into radiant flames.

Still, the spark wasn’t going to come from him.

He’d made that vow eight years ago, J.D. remembered now, and he wasn’t going to break it again. Kirsten didn’t need him as part of her life now any more than she’d needed him then.

And he’d damn well better remember that…because if he let himself love her again, he couldn’t leave her a second time.

Not even for the rush of satisfaction, of stimulation he knew was waiting in Chicago. Which was a stupid way to think, because that was where he’d directed all his energies. In Chicago he’d be doing work he could take pride in, fighting the battles he was meant for.

Winning victories that didn’t fit the kind of man Kirsten needed.

“Tell you what,” J.D. said, forcing his attention back to the situation at hand. What she needed right now was someone to look out for her, and buying her a hamburger was about all he could do. “It’ll take ten minutes for them to bring the car around. In ten minutes we can get you taken care of—”

“J.D., I take care of myself. And—”

“You’re not doing a very good job of it.”

“—My children,” she concluded. Then, as his interruption echoed between them, her face crumpled. “I know,” she whispered.

Too late he realized how she must have interpreted his remark. “Hey,” he protested, “I didn’t mean you’re doing a bad job with your kids.” Anyone who spent ten minutes with this woman, even without having heard Brad describe her passion for motherhood, would realize how much she treasured her children.

But Kirsten didn’t seem to hear him, or maybe she just didn’t believe him. “I should have phoned them every day. Here I was thinking they needed time with their dad—and they do, especially the boys—only now I’ve lost them!”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault.” He was the one who’d failed to warn her about Brad’s bar talk, but telling her about that betrayal right now wouldn’t help matters any. “You didn’t know he was gonna do a one-eighty like that,” J.D. said instead, resisting the temptation to rest his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself.”

She twisted her fingers together, then looked at an on-coming crowd of travelers as if hoping to spot her children among them. “I have to get them back.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for,” he assured her. And it was time he started taking better care of her than he’d managed so far. Which meant he’d better move away from her right now, before she could see any hint of the hunger inside him, and make sure she got some lunch. “Look, you keep an eye out for the car-rental guy…. I’m gonna get you something to eat.”

“You’re not taking care of me while my kids—” she began, and he cut her off.

“Yeah, I am. So just let me do it, okay?” Maybe she didn’t think she needed anyone buying her a hamburger, but he didn’t want to stand here and argue about it. Whatever Kirsten needed, whatever he could offer her, he was damn sure going to provide.

The way he’d done eight years ago, even though it had just about killed him.

The way he would continue doing for as long as it took to find her kids.

But, God, he hoped it wouldn’t take long.

She didn’t need him taking care of her, Kirsten reminded herself, watching J.D. stride across the concourse to the hamburger outlet. She could take care of herself, along with her children—

“You’re not doing a very good job of it.”

Which was why, right now, she wished she could huddle up in some quiet corner and cry herself numb. She couldn’t do that, though. She had to stick with her best shot at retrieving Lindsay and Adam and Eric, regardless of the potential risks. And if that meant letting J.D. Ryder run things, well…

He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, she admitted, watching his subtly commanding stance as he addressed the counter clerk. He probably made every frantic taxpayer he worked with eat regular meals, although it seemed out of character for a man who had always appeared indifferent to such routines. Still, as long as he didn’t go beyond ordering unwanted food, she could put up with his assumption of control.

The way she’d put up with Brad’s. And with her parents’ before that.

For so much longer than she should have…

Kirsten clenched her fists in her pockets and turned her gaze in the opposite direction. A hamburger was one thing. It would be silly to make a scene over a hamburger. But if J.D. Ryder attempted anything else that might slow down their search, she’d have to take charge. Tell him he was off the job. Get some other private detective.

Someone who would listen better than this man did. Who wouldn’t waste time trying to take care of her. Someone who wouldn’t keep her awake all night, torn between worry over her children and memories that refused to stay in the strongbox where she’d confined them for the past eight years.

Memories she didn’t need, didn’t want…any more than she wanted J.D. Ryder taking control of her carefully ordered life.

Memories of that long-ago summer together, when every afternoon had been filled with anticipation and wonder. Fascination. A growing certainty that the two of them belonged together more fully, more intensely than she had ever belonged with Brad.

She had been right in resisting Brad’s repeated invitations to show her what “real” fun could be, Kirsten knew that summer when each day shone with the anticipation of seeing J.D., with the glow of riding home together after work, talking to him, feeling the play of muscles in his body as he skillfully guided his bike around curves in the always-too-short road. Because what she’d felt for Brad Laurence had never come close to what she felt for J.D. Ryder…with whom she would gladly share the kind of intimacy she’d never shared before.

If only he would ask.

But he was shy about inviting her home with him, which Kirsten found endearing. She didn’t care about his father’s reputation, that they lived in what Brad had described as “kind of a dump,” that J.D.’s never-discussed background was so different from her own. What she cared about was his way of making her feel special. Listening to her as if she was more than just a perfect porcelain doll, as if her opinion genuinely mattered to him. As if she genuinely mattered to him.