Next to Callie, Frank was a wall of stony silence, barely acknowledging her presence in the Mercedes.
"Did I mess up?" She twisted to look at him."Just tell me what has you so pissed off."
He shot her a side-eye look. "I'm not pissed, and you didn't mess up."
He most certainly was pissed, she thought. He showed all the signs—tight jaw muscles, lowered brow, flashing brown eyes.
She settled back against the seat, feeling queasy. If she'd already screwed up this job, what chance did she have of talking Frank's boss into keeping her on at The Gates long-term?
She needed this job. And, if she was honest with herself, she also needed to prove to Frank that she wasn't the same messed-up girl he'd known all those years ago. He'd left town thinking the worst. She didn't want that scared girl behind prison bars to be his last memory of her.
"We need to make sure the audio recorded," he said.
She picked up the bag next to her and pulled out the voice-activated digital recorder they'd hidden inside. Pushing the play button, she sat back and let the audio roll.
After a few false starts, she heard the warm, musical voice of the man who'd called himself Dave Blaylock. "That's him," she murmured.
Blaylock had been handsome and charming. He gave off an air of wealth and confidence, and he'd been a good listener, drawing out details about her made-up life without seeming to try.
Frank parked the Mercedes in the garage and disarmed the security system while she waited. He opened the door, nodding for her to enter first. As she brushed past him, her shoulder sliding across his chest, he took a sharp, swift intake of breath.
Callie froze, heat flooding her until her insides trembled. She turned to look up at him, acutely aware how close they were standing, how easily she could take a step forward and press her body against his.
His eyes blazed fire back at her, and her heart began to pound.
It had been a long time since she'd been this close to Frank Hardy, but she hadn't forgotten what he looked like in the throes of desire.
The man standing in front of her, so close his breath stirred the hair at her temples, wanted her.
And God help her, she wanted him back.
She smelled like Spring Break at Panama City Beach, all cocoa butter and sunshine, and the sweet, hot promise of first love. He felt himself falling into her, even though neither of them moved.
"Remember Panama City?" she murmured, as if reading his mind.
"Vividly."
She placed her palm flat against his chest, as if trying to feel his heartbeat. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she managed a sad smile. "We almost made it, didn't we?"
Pain bloomed in his chest, spreading and burning. "Almost." He slid away from her touch, no longer able to bear it. He kept his back to her as he carried her tote bag to the kitchen counter and pulled out the recorder.
"I'm going to shower and change. Why don't you call Penny and see if that's Ellis's voice?" She moved past him out of the room.
He waited for the ache in his chest to subside.
It didn't.
((()))
Penny Sheridan listened to the recording over the phone twice before she spoke. "It could be him, I guess. That's not the accent he used, but the voice is the right timbre. Do you have a photo of him?"
"I'll email it," he said, trying not to let his mind wander upstairs to the bathroom, where Callie was naked under a spray of hot water. "I'll also download the audio file from the recorder to my computer so I can send that as well. Maybe it'll be clearer without phone interference."
"I know you think I'm a fool to spend so much money to catch this man," Penny said, her embarrassment evident even through the tinny phone connection. "But he took more than money."
"I know." The sound of footsteps drew Frank's attention away from the phone. Callie had walked into the room, her flip-flops thudding softly against the hardwood floor of the den. She smiled as she settled into the soft cushions of the armchair across from him.
She'd dressed casually in a tank top and running shorts that showed off the full length of her toned, tanned legs. The morning at the clubhouse pool had added a hint of extra gold to her sleek arms and shoulders, and a splash of rosy color to her nose and cheeks.
Her eyes, the brilliant azure of a summer sky, met his curiously, and he realized Penny Sheridan was speaking again.
"I never thought I'd marry. I never met anyone I could see spending my life with, and I don't need a second income, so I just thought I'd live alone for the rest of my life."
"And then you met Ellis," Callie said quietly.
On the other end of the line, Penny sighed. "He made me believe I could be in love. And that's why I want him stopped." A moment later, there was a click and the call ended. Frank looked up to see Callie's gaze on him, tears trembling on her lower lashes.
"It's a terrible thing, believing in forever and having it ripped away." She unfolded her long limbs and rose quickly, leaving the room without another word.
Tell me about it, he thought, rising to follow.
There had been a garden in the side yard, complete with a stone-circled pool where koi had, no doubt, lived a fat, well-fed life at some point. But the pool was mostly empty now, save for decaying leaves from the previous autumn and a sad puddle of rainwater shimmering green with algae. The monkey grass rimming the stone pond was overgrown and sickly, and the perennial flowers and ground cover that had once formed the garden were a riotous tangle of neglected, fading beauty.
If this were really her house, Callie though with a bleak smile, she could make this garden beautiful again.
But it wasn't. She couldn't. And wishing for things that just couldn't ever be was a fine way to make yourself crazy.
The door to the side patio opened and closed. Footsteps sounded on the freeform mosaic of flagstones that led from the house to the small pond, but she didn't look up.
He settled on the river stone wall of the pond beside her. "This place could use a better caretaker."
"Yeah." She looked away from the brackish water at the bottom of the pond. "Things get away from you if you're not paying attention."
"I know." The bleak tone of his voice forced her gaze up to meet his. She regretted it immediately; the pain radiating from those brown eyes felt like a body blow. "Why did you do it?"
((()))
She didn't pretend not to know what he was asking. "Does it matter?"
"I guess not." His gaze skimmed across the unkempt flower beds. "It's just—you were so happy when we talked that morning. So eager to go."
"I was."
"What happened? Why did you go with them instead of meeting me?"
She'd been keeping the secret of that night so long, it was hard to consider telling even a portion of the truth. But her sister was dead. The secret couldn't really hurt her anymore, could it?
"I didn't." She forced the words from her lips, words she'd never told anyone before, not even her lawyer. "I didn't go with them that night. I didn't get there until just before the police arrived."
She made herself look at him, watch the confusion crinkle his brow and darken his eyes. "You were the getaway car driver, Callie. You went to jail for five years because of it."
"I didn't drive the car. I didn't know anything about it until—" Her throat seemed to close up as the words tried to escape. She swallowed convulsively, looking down at her twisting hands.
"Oh, God," Frank whispered.
She looked up sharply, saw the understanding dawning on his face. The terrible realization of what she'd done and why.
"Your sister was driving the car, wasn't she?"
She took a deep breath and made herself answer. "Yes."
A chill washed over Frank, despite the early afternoon heat. His life, so structured, so ordered, seemed to be trembling on the edge of shattering apart completely with that one soft word.
His hand twitched toward her, but he stopped it, not sure he trusted himself, not sure whether he wanted to comfort her or shake her for what she'd sacrificed all those years ago.
He settled for a low, raspy question. "Why?"
Her blue eyes snapped up to meet his gaze, glittering with unshed tears. "You know why."
Of course he did. Her fierce protectiveness of her twin sister had been one of the things he'd loved most about her.
"She was supposed to go to college. Become a doctor. Be the Shaw sister who made something of herself." The first of the tears fell, sliding down her cheek. "I knew it couldn't be me. I'd burned all my bridges. Messed up my permanent record so much not even a junior college wanted to take a chance on me. But Sable was set. She'd kept her nose clean. She had a chance." Her voice broke. "She was almost there, damn it!"
"She was mixed up with Jeff Dawes?" Even now, even knowing the truth after so long, the name Jeff Dawes sent a shaft of rage through him, sharp and cutting. He'd spent twelve years thinking of him as the man who'd destroyed his life.
He still did, he supposed. That much hadn't changed.
"He held a certain appeal."
"For you, too?"
The look she shot his way felt like a punch. "She didn't know he was going to rob Mr. Kingsley. I swear."
Protecting Sable, even now. "What happened?"
"It happened the way I told the police." She unfolded her long legs and rose to cross the flagstone walkway, coming to a stop next to an unkempt crape myrtle bush. She plucked a pale pink flower cluster and studied it as she spoke. "I just left out the part where Sable ran to the pay phone outside the store and called me."
"Did Sable become a doctor?" As soon as he asked the question, her fallen expression answered it. His gut twisted into a tighter knot.
"Sable's dead."
((()))
The grief burning like acid inside her felt fresh, though Sable had been gone for nearly a year.
Frank took a couple of steps toward her. "What happened?"
"Meth happened." She closed her eyes, feeling too vulnerable to see the concern in his gaze. "She overdosed about a year ago."
She heard his footsteps, felt the heat of his body slide over hers just before he stopped in front of her and took her hands in his. "I'm so sorry."
"It was stupid. Such a waste." Her voice broke on a soft sob. "Everything was a waste."
He released her hands and cradled her face between his palms, making her look at him. "Not everything."
He looked so kind. So understanding.
So like the boy who'd stolen her stony heart all those years ago. She curled her fingers around his hands, holding them in place against her cheeks. "I know you don't understand why I did it."
"I do understand." He rested his forehead against hers. "I just wish you'd told me."
"I didn't tell anyone," she admitted. "Not even my lawyer."
"And Sable let you do it?" He sounded both incredulous and angry.
She pulled away from him. "Don't."
Frank pressed his lips to a thin line, but he didn't say anything else.
"She was scared. And guilty. But I made her promise not to tell anyone anything about it. Ever. I told her to go to college. Be a doctor. Make it all worthwhile."
"But she didn't."
Pain lanced through her. "No."
"So everything you sacrificed was for nothing." He looked sick.
She caught his hand as he started to move away, holding him in place. "Not for nothing."
He shook his head, eyes narrowing."Then for what?"
"Sable had a baby. A little girl." Just thinking about Adelaide's cherub face and big blue eyes made Callie smile. "Her name's Adelaide. She'll be two this December, and she's so amazing."
"Where is she?"
Callie's smile faded. "DCS has her."
Frank frowned. She knew he hadn't had any first-hand dealings with the Tennessee Department of Children's Services the way Callie and Sable had with their volatile parents, but like anyone growing up in Bitterwood, he'd seen the welfare agency at work. They were perennially overworked and underfunded. Try as they might, they couldn't keep kids from falling through the cracks.
"Where's her father?"
"He's not in the picture." She couldn't bring herself to admit that Sable wasn't sure who the father was. "I've been trying to get custody, but—"
"But you have a record."
"And I haven't been able to hold a steady job since I got out of prison," she added with a guilty grimace. "Maybe I'm not fit to be her mother."
He caught her face between his hands again. "You love her, right? You're willing to sacrifice for her, or you wouldn't have been working at Smoky Joe's. Or have taken this job, sight unseen."
She nodded. "I know I'm a screw up. I may not be the ideal guardian for a little girl. But I love her. And I'm determined to be the person she needs me to be. Whatever it takes."
"Whatever it takes?" His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to see into her soul.
Her internal walls rose, trying to shut him out. But this time, she struggled to stay open, to let him see the real person she was inside, the one she wanted to be all the time. "Yes."
He brushed his thumb against her lower lip. "Then marry me."
((()))
Frank's words faded into silence, and for a hushed moment, there seemed to be no sound at all, not even the rustle of a summer breeze in the trees or the twitter of birdsong. Callie's eyes were a mirror of the cloudless August sky overhead, offering no glimpse of her thoughts.
He dropped his hands away from her face. "Or not."
Her lips curved suddenly, a bubble of laughter escaping her throat.
The corners of his own mouth tilted upward. "I guess I could have come up with a more useful suggestion."
She reached up with one slim hand and touched his face. "Always trying to fix my problems."
"I didn't stop caring."
She lifted her other hand, cradling his face as he'd held hers earlier. "I know you loved me. I know those feelings don't just disappear overnight."
Or ever, he thought.
"But I'm a grown woman, my track record notwithstanding. Adelaide is my issue and I will figure out a way to get custody of her."
"You have a new job now," he reminded her. "Good pay and benefits."
Her lips quirked. "A company that hires the likes of me and Seth Hammond?"
"Seth is a good guy. He's worked hard to overcome his reputation."
She dropped her hands away from his face. "I'm not being cavalier about this opportunity. I promise you that."
"Let's get you through this assignment, and then we'll see what we can do about convincing the DCS that you're a good option for your niece." He turned too quickly, wincing at the pain skating through his spine.
To his dismay, Callie didn't miss the show of pain. She laid her hand on his arm. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"Old war injury," he joked, although it was also the truth. "Had to eject during a bombing run about a year ago. Hurt my back."
"Ouch." She winced. "Are you okay?"
"Not allowed to fly a jet anymore, but otherwise—"
Her expression softened. "I'm sorry. I know how much you loved the idea of being a pilot."
"I'm alive. That's more than a lot of guys I fought with can say." He forced a smile. "And I got to fly for years. Lived my dream for a long time."
"What now? What's your dream now?"
He didn't know how to answer that question. It had been something he'd pondered since the Marine Corps had declared him unfit as a pilot. He'd had the option of remaining in the service, but his heart wasn't in it if he couldn't fly.
"I'm still trying to figure that out," he said finally.
"Join the club, Frank." She smiled a toothy grin that brightened her eyes and sent him reeling back to a time when they'd been young and full of hope.
God, he'd loved her then. A deep, breathless, endless kind of love he thought would never, ever die.
Her smile faded, her gaze locking with his, drawing him to her, steel to her magnet. Her lips trembled apart, and for a heart-stopping moment, he was eighteen again, his whole world encompassed in those bright blue eyes.
She stepped closer, warming him with her fire, and he closed the rest of the distance, bending his head to kiss her for the first time in twelve years.