FOR THE CHILDREN Read online

  "They're fine." Had he read her mind? His husky voice curled around her like warm tendrils of sunlight, warming her to the core of her soul. "They know how to float, and neither of them are afraid of the water. And besides us, there are two lifeguards watching them."

  "I know." She turned to him, suddenly needing to make sure he understood that it wasn't him she mistrusted. It was herself. "It's just that I've always been nervous when they're in the water. They've learned a lot from you, but it's going to take a while for me to remember that."

  "It's all right, Abby." His voice was gentle, and she looked over at him. Understanding shone out of his eyes. "You have a good reason for being nervous when they're in the water. I don't think you're being foolish or silly."

  As he watched her, she saw only compassion and reassurance in his eyes. If they weren't in a public place, he would hold her and comfort her, the same way he'd done after she'd talked to Janna.

  She felt her face redden as she remembered what had happened that night Comfort had been the last thing on either of their minds. Her hand tingled and throbbed in his, and the heat from their clasped hands swept up her arm and centered deep in her belly. Gently she pulled her hand away from his, then reached casually for a towel and draped it over her shoulders. Her bathing suit was modest, but it wouldn't hide the way her body responded to his touch.

  She watched Maggie and Casey as she struggled to subdue her reaction to Damien. As they played in the water, she saw Laura Weston lean over the edge of the pool and say something to all the children. In a moment Casey was scrambling out of the water, followed closely by Maggie. Both girls came running toward them, excited grins on their faces.

  "Can we go over to play at Jenny's house?" they shouted as they got closer.

  Abby opened her mouth to tell them no, but before she could speak she felt Damien's hand on her arm. "Think about it, Abby," he said in a low voice. "It's only next door, and I'm sure they'd be safe there for a few hours."

  "What if they aren't?" She turned to look at him, puzzled by his willingness to let the girls out of his sight. "What if someone has found out where we are?"

  "Then maybe they're better off at Laura's for a little while." His face was grim and his mouth a compressed line. "I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary, but if someone found us I think they'd try something right away, while they still had the element of surprise. They'd expect the girls to be with us. They'd have no reason to look anywhere else."

  She looked at him doubtfully, then turned to Maggie and Casey, who had skidded to a stop in front of them. "Did Mrs. Weston invite you?" she asked, stalling for time to make up her mind.

  Casey nodded vigorously. "She said we could come to their house and play, for as long as we wanted to."

  Laura walked up behind the twins and gave Abby an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I should have asked you first, but the idea slipped out before I had a chance to think. If it's all right with you, they could come over and play for a while, then have dinner with us and watch a movie. Cassie's mom, Becca, has to work late tonight, so Cass will he there, too. We'll make it a party."

  "It's up to you, Abby," Damien said, taking her hand. The pressure of his fingers told her it would be all right, that the twins would be safe at the Weston home.

  Abby looked at her nieces. Their faces were trembling with hope, eagerness shining out of their eyes. She couldn't bear to disappoint them. "I guess that would be all right," she said finally. "We'll have to go home and change first, though."

  "Thank you," Casey said, throwing her arms around her aunt's neck. "We'll be good."

  Abby held Casey close and swallowed hard. "I know you will, honey. I'm just going to miss you guys."

  "We'll be back soon," Maggie assured her. "And you'll have Damien to keep you company."

  Abby glanced over at Damien, and the heat in his eyes was almost enough to make her change her mind and tell the girls they couldn't go. Almost, but not enough. His gaze held hers for a moment, then he dropped her hand and reached for the towels on the chair.

  Tossing one to each of them, he stood up and said, "We'd better get going. You don't want to be late for your adventure."

  * * *

  Chapter 13

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  As Abby and Damien walked away from the Westons' an hour later, she looked over her shoulder one final time before the house was hidden by the surrounding trees. She must have slowed down, because Damien took her hand and pulled her closer.

  "They'll be fine, Abby. They're just going to play and eat dinner, then we'll be back to get them."

  "I know." Her voice was low, barely more than the sigh of the wind through the trees. "But I can't help worrying."

  "If anyone has tracked us here, the last place they'd look for Maggie and Casey is the Westons' house," he said patiently. "Do you think I would have let them go if I thought there was the slightest chance of anything happening?"

  "I know you wouldn't. But I've worried about them for so long that I can't seem to stop."

  Damien halted and turned her to face him. His hands were gentle on her shoulders, reassuring and strengthening. "You're not alone anymore, Abby. I'm here to help. The burden of protecting them is mine, too, and I won't let anything or anyone hurt them."

  "They are more than just a job for you, aren't they, Damien?" It wasn't what she'd intended to say, but in the sudden silence she realized how important his answer would be to her. She watched him, needing to know, waiting to see if there was anything inside him besides a colorless vacuum etched in pain.

  It didn't take long to get her answer. For an instant as he stared at her, his eyes were bleak with despair. Then he turned and headed for his house. "Damn you, yes. They're not just a job anymore. I care about them." The words sounded as if they'd been torn from his soul. "Is that what you wanted to hear? That they were able to make me feel something again? If it is, then the answer is yes."

  Abby hurried to catch up with him. "Is it so bad to care about someone?" she asked as she reached his side.

  When he turned to look at her, his eyes were black pools of suffering. "I would have cut my heart out if I could to stop it from feeling. I never wanted to care about anything or anyone again in my life. Especially not any children. I didn't want this job, not after I'd found out that two kids were witnesses. But it was my case, and I couldn't turn it over to someone else." A bitter, self-mocking smile flitted across his face. "My pride wouldn't let me."

  He'd reached the front door of his house, and he wrenched it open and went inside. Abby closed the door quietly behind them and followed him to the loft, where she found him leaning over the railing, staring at something on the lower level. When she followed his gaze, she realized he was looking into the unfinished nursery.

  "Was it your pride that made you continue to work on the nursery?"

  He didn't turn his head, didn't move at all, but his knuckles whitened on the loft railing. "Pride had nothing to do with it," he finally said, his voice cold and distant. "I do it so 1 won't forget."

  "Surely there are better ways to remember your wife and unborn child." She laid her hand on his arm, feeling his rock-hard muscles tense under her touch.

  He turned his head to look at her, his eyes as cold as Arctic snow. "I don't need to work on the room to remember them. I do it to remember why and how they died."

  A chill slowly enveloped her as she watched him, icy fingers clutching at her heart and filling her with dread. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

  "I didn't want to tell you," he said, and it sounded as if the words were wrenched from him one by one. "I swore I wouldn't. But I can't seem to stop myself. Are you sure you want to hear my story, Abby? Do you want to hear all the grisly details? Do you want to know why I can't bear to be around children, why I've tried so hard to stop myself from caring about you?"

  "Yes, Damien," she said, reaching for his hand. "I do."

  Instead of pulling his hand away, as she half expected him to do, he turn
ed and twined his fingers with hers, holding on tightly. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes wary, then looked toward the nursery again.

  "It wasn't just my wife and unborn child that were killed in the car accident. I had a three-year-old son, too. His name was Tyler."

  Ignoring her swiftly indrawn breath, he continued, "We had just inherited this house a year earlier, and we had planned to come here for a weekend. At the last moment, I got a tip on the case I was working and decided to stay home. Carol was upset, so I told her to take Ty and come here by herself."

  He drew a deep, shaky breath and glanced over at her. "She wasn't happy about making the drive alone with a three-year-old, especially since she was six months' pregnant, but she was angry enough at me that she decided to do it." He looked away again as pain filled his eyes. "I should have gone with her, but it had gotten to the point where I found my job more interesting than my wife. My son was all that held my marriage together. Tyler begged me to come with them. He said it would be boring without me to play with him. I gave him a kiss goodbye, strapped him in his car seat, and that was the last time I saw him."

  "What happened?" Abby whispered, horrified.

  "There was an accident on the way here. The car went off the road and down one of the cliffs. By the time the car hit the bottom, there was barely enough left of it to identify. But there was enough." His mouth thinned. "Enough to prove that they were pushed off the road by another car. I eventually caught the man responsible. He was involved in the case I was working on. He told me he thought I was in the car, too." He looked down at the nursery again. "I was supposed to be." His voice was filled with guilt.

  "You can't blame yourself for their deaths," she said, appalled. "If you had been in the car, the only thing different would be that you would be dead, too."

  "If I had been in the car, it might never have happened," he retorted. "I've been trained to avoid situations like that. I would have known what to do. Carol never had a chance."

  "You're making an awful lot of assumptions," she said, turning him to face her. "You're not God. You can't think you would have prevented that from happening."

  "I would have done a hell of a lot more if I'd been with them, where I belonged."

  "Maybe it was your wife who made the wrong decision. Did you ever think of that? Maybe she should have stayed with you that weekend instead of going away by herself."

  "I'm not going to make Carol the guilty one, Abby. She's dead and can't defend herself. I'm the one who chose to stay home. I'm the one who didn't go with the rest of my family. And I'm the one who's still alive."

  "That's why you're guilty, isn't it? Because you're alive and they're dead."

  "I'm guilty because I'm responsible. It's very simple and straightforward."

  She gripped his arms and held on tight. "Is this what your wife would have wanted?" she demanded. "Would she have wanted you to destroy the rest of your life because of what happened to her?"

  "It wasn't just her, Abby. It was Tyler and his sister or brother who died, too. I destroyed my whole family because I was obsessed with my job."

  "And you've paid for it," she said passionately. "You've paid for it with three years of hell."

  "Are you telling me to forget about them?" he asked. "To forget what happened to them?"

  "Of course not. But you have to stop blaming yourself. You have to allow yourself to heal and get on with your life."

  "Why are you saying this to me, Abby? Why do you care what I do with my life?"

  Her heart contracted in her chest, then began to pound out an uneven rhythm. "Because I care about you, Damien. I care what happens to you."

  "Am I another one of your charity cases, like Angus and all the other creatures you take under your wing?"

  Slowly she shook her head. "You're not a charity case, Damien," she whispered. "I didn't want to care about you. I didn't want to feel what you're making me feel. I'm still not sure I do, but I can't seem to help myself."

  He reached out and touched her face, trailing his fingers down to the pulse beating wildly in her neck. "What a pair we are, Abby Markham," he muttered. "You and the twins made me feel things I'd sworn never to feel again. I wanted to hate you for it, but I couldn't. I couldn't even force myself to turn the case over to someone else."

  "And now?" she asked.

  "I don't know," he whispered. "Every time I look at Maggie and Casey, I hurt all over again. Being with them has been like riding a roller coaster, constantly feeling my stomach drop out from under me. I look at them and wonder what Tyler would have looked like now, listen to them and wonder what he would have said to his brother or sister. He would have been a year older than they are. Every time I see them, I remember that I'll never see him again."

  "Oh, Damien." She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. "I'm so sorry we had to hurt you. I'm sorry that Janna took the girls to work that day, and I'm sorry that it had to be your case. But I'm not sorry that I met you. I could never be sorry about that."

  He held her close for a long time, then finally leaned back and looked in her face. "And what about what happened at Shea's cabin? Are you sorry about that?"

  "I could never regret making love with you, Damien," she whispered. "Never." The words were on her lips, words telling him that she loved him, that she would always love him, but instead of speaking she kissed him. She couldn't tell him that she wouldn't regret it no matter the consequences. Damien wasn't ready to hear the words, so until he was, she would keep them locked in her heart.

  He hesitated for a moment, then crushed her to him. "I can't seem to stop wanting you, Abby. I know I'm not the person you need in your life, but even knowing that I could endanger you and the twins hasn't been able to stop me."

  "You're exactly who I need in my life, Damien." Her words were muffled against the front of his shirt as she clung to him, her face buried in his chest. The thundering of his heart reassured her, told her that he wasn't completely indifferent toward her in spite of his harsh words.

  "Why do you think you need me, Abby? Is it because you collect the walking wounded? Am I another one of your projects?"

  His low voice was filled with pain and scorn, and Abby loosened her grip so she could look up at him. "I need you because of what you do for me," she said, not letting her gaze waver from his. "You've shown me that I don't always have to be in control, that sometimes it's all right to let someone else be the strong one. No one's ever done that for me before, Damien. I was always the one who coped, the person who had the answers. You've been there for me when I needed you, and no one ever has before." She reached up and touched his face. "You're one of the strongest people I know. That's why I need you."

  "I wish I could be stronger when it comes to you," he muttered. "It would be better for you if I was strong enough to walk away without a second look. But God help me, I can't do that." He brought both hands up to cup her face, to hold her still. "I want you too much, Abby. I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you."

  "Then we both want the same thing," she whispered. "And there can't be anything wrong with that."

  He looked at her for another moment, then bent his head to kiss her. Damien was a complex man, one who had been badly wounded. Was she strong enough to give him what he needed, to take what he had to give? She wasn't sure. But when he kissed her, all her doubts melted and flowed away like chocolate in the sun. Nothing had ever felt so right. She had never felt so whole.

  "Please don't stop," she whispered, turning her head to press her lips against his throat. His pulse leaped against her mouth, sending ribbons of heat into her belly.

  "Stop?" Damien's voice was shaky. "I don't think I could stop if my life depended on it. Do you know how scared that makes me?"

  "We're safe now." She drank in the scent of his hair and skin, burying her face in his neck. "Nobody knows where we are." She lifted her head and stared at him, watching his dark eyes get even darker. "We're all alone for the next fe
w hours."

  "Are you sure this is what you want, Abby?" He held her away from him with trembling hands. "Very sure?"

  "I've never wanted anything more in my life." Very deliberately she reached out and began to unbutton his shirt. "Ever."

  His hands closed over hers and stilled them. "Then I want to do this right. I want to take the time I didn't take the other night." Clasping one of her hands, he led her into his bedroom. "We're not going to rush today, Abby."

  He bent his head and kissed her again. It started out as a gentle kiss, restrained and tender. His lips brushed over hers, tasting and lightly caressing. But the embers of desire roared to life inside her at his touch, and she opened her mouth to him with a little moan. He froze for a moment, then kissed her with a frantic need that swept away all thoughts of restraint and patience.

  His tongue delved into her mouth, twining with hers in a dance as old as time. When he finally lifted his head, she was breathless, her legs trembling and barely able to hold her up. He lowered her onto the bed and followed her down onto the coverlet, reaching for the buttons on her shirt and pushing them through the holes with fingers that trembled.

  "I don't know how patient I can be," he whispered. "Every time I touch you, I feel like I'm going to explode. I need to look at you, to see you in the sunlight."

  He eased the shirt off her shoulders and slid it gently down her arms. The lacy bra she wore didn't conceal much from his gaze, and she felt herself reddening as he looked at her. Finally he raised his eyes and touched her face. "Why are you blushing?"

  "I guess because I'm not used to men looking at my body," she said tartly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

  His eyes crinkled, and one of his too infrequent smiles lit his face. "Don't sound so deprived. I'm more than happy to make up for that lack in your life."

  Feeling herself get even redder, she reached for his shirt. "I want to look at you, too," she whispered.

  He stilled as she struggled with the buttons and finally pulled his shirt off his arms. Laying her palm on his chest, she felt his muscles jump beneath her fingers. His skin was smooth and hot, and when she tentatively flexed her fingers, tangling them in the black, coarse hairs, he closed his eyes and clenched his hands on her shoulders.