Breathless Descent (7 page)

“They were supposed to be installed as part of the deal when I bought the place six months ago,” she said. “When they weren’t, I was so excited about finally having my student loans paid off and actually being able to buy a place, that I let it go.” She flipped on the light. “But after seeing how fast you can get in, I’m officially moving dead bolts to the top of my ‘things to do’ list.” Shay motioned him inside.

Caleb followed her, his boots scraping glossy, light-oak hardwood. “A locksmith is expensive,” he said. “I can do what you need to have done. And I’ll make sure I check the whole place for safety. Doors and windows.”

“I’d say you don’t have to do that,” she said, “but I know you. You’ve made up your mind. You’re going to do it.” With a lift of her chin, she indicated the room to her left, a kitchen of rich redwood and gray granite counters. “Plenty of Dr Pepper in the fridge. I’ll just be in the other room looking up that address.” She sashayed her sweet, heart-shaped ass down a short stairwell, leaving him in the midst of a chuckle. He hated Dr Pepper, and she knew it.

Caleb took a step toward the stairs, when his eyes caught on the photo hanging above the rectangular decorative table. He remembered perfectly when the picture was taken. It was “the” day. Shay’s eighteenth birthday. Family and a dozen or so friends had gathered at Shay’s favorite Mexican-food joint to celebrate, and they’d hijacked the waiter to take a picture. Chairs were scooted close, arms draped shoulders, memories were documented.

And there he was, sitting next to Shay, in all her birthday glow, a smile on her lips as she looked at him, not the camera. And he was looking at her, too, oblivious to the rest of the group. The picture said a million words. They were in private conversation; the connection between Shay and him—the attraction—all too evident. It had been one of two big scares with Shay. The other had been at her college graduation dinner, another milestone in her life that had almost turned into another kiss. He hadn’t come home much after that. Even before the kiss they’d shared, he’d known what was between them. And he’d known it was only a matter of time before everyone else would know, too.

After ten years and thousands of miles behind them, that still appeared to be true. But they’d been kids then, young and incapable of maturely handling such circumstances. They weren’t kids anymore.

“Caleb!” Shay called. “You have a phone call.”

With one last glance at the picture, Caleb headed down the stairs to find a living area washed in the same warm feeling that was Shay, with a large, modern-looking stone fireplace as the centerpiece and a plasma TV mounted on the wall above—perfect for the UT football he’d missed too much of the past ten years. The couch was brown, as was the matching chair and ottoman, both decorated with light blue and brown throw pillows. Light blue candles. Brown picture frames. This was a home.

She held out the phone over the marble coffee table, where she’d set her laptop. Caleb didn’t miss the strained look on her face even before she said, “Jennifer.”

Somehow Caleb managed not to smile, and quickly reined in a moment of male satisfaction in which his ego screamed, hey-ho-yeah, baby, she was jealous. He’d felt that same pang of the green-eyed monster with Rick, and it was nice to know he wasn’t alone.

Caleb accepted the phone, his fingers brushing Shay’s on purpose. She snatched her hand back, and this time, he had to turn away to hide a smile.

“What’s up, Jennifer?” he asked, walking to Shay’s window and pulling up the wooden blinds to inspect her locks. Check. Need replacing.

Jennifer didn’t bother with a greeting. “Who the heck was that, and why don’t we know about her? I can’t imagine you ever letting a woman answer your phone. You’re too private. Which means she isn’t someone you just met.”

“We” meaning her and her husband, Bobby Evans, one of his best friends, a fellow Ace and, now, a business partner. “And your next question would be what?” Caleb asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Check,” she said. “You can’t talk or don’t want to. Fine. But expect the question again. I demand to know the scoop.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you,” Caleb assured her. He liked Jennifer. And he liked her with Bobby, who was the happiest he’d ever seen the man.

“Good,” she said, her tone saying he’d successfully dodged her question. For now. And just to be sure he got the “for now” part, she added, “Then we agree you’ll tell me about her later.” She didn’t give him time to argue. “Onward to the reason I called. We’re grilling burgers out at the Hotzone. So we borrowed a few things from your fridge. Mustard, pickles. A few things we forgot.”

His place was a small trailer at the back of the facility, meant to be temporary and offering him zero in privacy. “My place is your place. Since you asked and all.”

She laughed. “I knew you’d see it that way. I’ll save you a burger. Or you could head back now and bring whomever she is with you.”

Caleb turned to find Shay scribbling an address on a piece of paper. “Tonight’s not good,” he replied.

Shay’s gaze snapped to his. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I can deal with this myself.”

He held her stare and said to Jennifer, “Don’t keep Bobby up too late. We have a sunrise jump.” Shay’s eyes went wide before she looked away, although he saw the pink flush of her cheeks first.

Caleb ended the call. “Her husband, Bobby, is one of my partners.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. I guessed that.”

“There is no one else, Shay. Just you.”

Instantly, the air thickened with tension. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

“And you?” he asked, muscles clenching in his back as he waited for the reply. The idea that she might be seeing someone else hit him with a punch. “Are you seeing anyone, Shay?”

Her lashes lowered, then lifted tentatively. “If I say yes?”

A rush of possessiveness filled him. “I’d say he must not be too compelling since you were in your parents’ pantry kissing me.”

She blinked and then laughed. “I believe your ego has expanded while you were off becoming some sort of super soldier, able to break into houses with a snap of your fingers.”

Caleb wasn’t laughing. He was thinking of the illogical dread he’d felt for that day when he might hear she was married. Relief would have been logical—if he didn’t really want her. But he did. He always had.

“Answer, Shay,” he ordered softly.

Shay turned serious. “No,” she said. “I’m not seeing anyone.” She firmed her lips. “Including you.”

Satisfaction filled him. They’d see about that before this night was over.

“He’s written some textbooks,” she said. “Maybe that pays well. We’ve never really talked about his financial position.” Which, now that she thought about it, he seemed to steer away from in their sessions.

“I doubt that,” Caleb said, and eyed the house. “Let’s go see good ol’ George.”

He reached for the truck door, and Shay grabbed his arm. “No. I should go alone. I don’t want him to feel I’ve betrayed his trust by letting someone else know that he’s a patient.”

“He’ll see me in the truck,” he said.

“And I’ll tell him you are a friend who knows nothing,” she said. “But if you hear me talk with him, that won’t play true. Seriously, Caleb. Talking about a case without a name is much different ethically than putting a face to the case. I need to do this alone.”

His jaw clenched visibly despite the darkness of the cab. “Don’t go inside.”

“All right,” she said and reached for her door.

Caleb shackled her arm. “I mean it, Shay. Don’t go in or I’ll come in after you. You never know what someone is capable of, especially someone already unstable.”

Shay should have been irritated, but she wasn’t. He’d done a lot for her tonight, and she liked feeling cared about. Still, she had to give him a hard time. “Are all soldiers this paranoid or is this a special quality you’ve honed all on your own?”

“I’m cautious,” he said. “But that’s not why I’m stopping you now.” He motioned to the window.

Shay frowned and followed his direction, gaping at what she saw. In the upstairs window, a couple had appeared, or rather the silhouette of a naked couple.

“He stood me up to have sex,” she gasped.

“Looks like,” Caleb responded. “In the man’s defense, though, you did say he’s been reclusive for the three years since his wife died. If this woman showed up and made him an offer while he was in that kind of deprived state, he was probably pretty powerless to say no.”

“Hold on a minute. ‘I need to make a phone call’ sounds pretty simple to me,” she said smartly.

He laughed and started the engine. “I say Mexican food and margaritas are in order.”

Shay sighed and said, “Yes. Please.” She was beyond denying herself time with Caleb. She enjoyed him. She wanted to hear about the last ten years. And they needed to talk. In public, if not on the phone.
In public
being the operative phrase here. That meant she could maintain her “hands off for the night” decision, no matter how hot it might get between her and Caleb. It was a safe plan—she was sure of it.

She curled her fingers in her lap and quickly distracted herself with another memory—one of many they’d shared over dinner. “Remember the fake ID debacle?”

He paused, beer near his lips. “You mean when Kent tried to sneak into the horse races with an ID that said he was twenty-five, when he was sixteen with peach fuzz?” He chuckled and took his drink.

“Wait,” Shay said, leaning forward, flattening her hands on the table. “There was more than one ID debacle?”

“Not if you don’t know about it,” he laughed and set his beer aside, before adding, “Kent almost talked me into going to the track that day. Said he’d dreamed about a horse’s number. We’d be rich. Man almighty, I was glad I didn’t get sucked into that little fantasy. He didn’t see the light of day for a month, your parents were so angry.”

“And he made our lives miserable for it,” she said, curling her legs to the side on the booth, one elbow on the white laminate tabletop.

“Yeah,” he said, and seemed to be thinking back in time before he laughed again. “Yeah, he really did. But those were some good times. Kent and I…we didn’t talk much while I was away, but we’re good now. Just like I was never gone. Last Saturday he slept out at the Hotzone so he could do my Sunday sunrise jump with me.”

“Mom is beside herself that you’re staying in that beat-up trailer rather than with them, you know. I told her you had reasons.” She made an uncomfortable sound. “I didn’t mention the ‘reasons’ were all about avoiding me.”

“It’s not about avoiding you, and the trailer isn’t as bad as I’m sure Kent has made it sound,” he said. “I’m officially the only one of the three Hotzone owners who’s still single. Bobby and Ryan both got themselves married up. I’m the logical Ace to take some of the extra workload. And living on-site helps. They’d do it for me if it were reversed, and one day I’ll need time off, and they’ll cover for me. We’re blood brothers. We’ve all saved each other’s lives more times than I can count.”

Shay sobered sharply on the mix of the tequila she sucked through her straw and the words
saved each other’s lives.
Her throat constricted, and she barely kept from choking. Shay sat up straight, shoved away the drink, then hoarsely confessed, “I worried about you. I worried a lot.”

His expression softened, his eyes gently touching hers. “Shay…”

He reached for her hand, and she pulled back, fiddling with the napkin in her lap. She didn’t want to get emotional. She hadn’t expected to get emotional. But here were the emotions, overtaking her, demanding notice. And the words—his, and now hers—that seemed to flow of their own accord. “The thought of something happening to you, and then not only losing you, but knowing it was because I’d pushed you away—it ate me alive, especially that first year you were gone. After that, I learned to tuck it away, but there were times, especially after you came home to visit and left again—not that you did that all that often—but after a visit, it would start again. The fear of the phone ringing with bad news. Mom felt it. Dad and Kent, too, but they’re too tough to admit it.”

He sat completely still for several seconds, so still she wasn’t sure he even breathed. And she was pretty sure she’d hit that button—the hot-cold button. The one where he withdrew, where they went back to the not-talking thing they did so well.

And then suddenly, he was beside her, in the booth facing her, his expression etched with tenderness…and something that almost resembled guilt. “I should have talked to you before I left. I should have made sure you didn’t feel that kind of fear and guilt. You didn’t run me off, Shay. The Army was in my blood—I knew
that
before I started college and I knew afterward. I always knew it was where I belonged.”

But not with her, she thought, not with her family. “Then why are you here now? Why did you even come home?”

He hesitated. “Shay—”

His hesitation said everything. “Because you didn’t have a choice,” she said tightly, turning to face him fully, arm on the table, back to the wall. “Something happened. Something that forced you out.”

His lips thinned, telling her before his words that she wasn’t going to like his answer. “If I hadn’t been ready to get out,” he said, “I wouldn’t have.”

“What happened?” she asked tightly.

“Yes, there was an issue. I helped bring a corrupt person to justice. Something I couldn’t do when he had the ability to influence my missions. I could have transferred, but the Flying Aces—my unit—was
it
for me.”

Why was this bothering her? Had she really believed in some far off corner of her mind that he’d come back for her? It was silly, but it was there, a part of her subconscious that had whipped its ugly, irrational head into full view.

She turned toward the table, and he took her hand, stalling her movement. But she didn’t give him time to say whatever he was going to say. “Months and months would pass, and we had no idea if you were alive.” Eight long months the year before last. “I hate you for making me worry. Us. Making us worry.”

“I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed her jaw, a gentle caress that sent chills down her spine. “I’m here now,” he said. “I could have gone anywhere in the world, but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, Shay.” He laced his fingers with hers. “And I’m done hiding from a kiss. We were kids when it happened. And I believed, back then, if we’d pursued something more, we would have done nothing but destroy each other—and our family—in the process. We had everything to lose by acting on our attraction.” He brought her knuckles to his lips. “But we’re not kids anymore.”

“And yet so little has changed,” she said.

“Hasn’t it?”

The jukebox started playing a soft Keith Urban tune. He smiled. “Let’s dance.” And before she could reply, he tugged her forward.

“Dance?” she murmured, looking for a dance floor she’d missed. Where the heck were they going to dance?

The answer was soon evident as he drew her to a halt in the dimly lit deserted corner just beyond the jukebox and a vacant pool table. A good ways from the few lone pool players at a distant table.

His hands settled on her waist. Firm. Possessive. Strong. Objections faded on her tongue, the words of the song that had enticed them to the dance floor forgotten. In their place, other reasons hummed through her mind, explaining why this dance was okay. They were in public. There were people nearby. A dance was a moment in time in the broad picture of things.

But as the stark desire in his expression mingled with the heady male scent of him, which invaded her senses, seducing her, a spell overcame her—a spell where reason didn’t breathe, let alone live. A spell that expanded in time, yet felt like only a split second—a second gone too fast.

They stood there, unmoving, staring at one another. His hand slid to her back, gently urging her closer. Their legs aligned, then entwined, intimately placing her hips against his. Shay swallowed hard at the instant heat swirling low in her stomach, and her gaze dropped to his chest, to where her hands rested.

Slowly, her fingers splayed wide on the hard muscle. This was happening. She was touching him, was with him, in his arms, and neither of them was saying no. It was so surreal—it was almost an out-of-body experience. Except her body most definitely wanted in on this action.

Shay slowly slid her hands upward, his body heat warming her palms, and her gaze lifted to his. Her fingers laced at his neck, her chest naturally arching more intimately into his. Their bodies began to sway, the song—another song—slow still, filling the air, but she didn’t hear the words. Shay didn’t see the room. But neither could she maintain their stare, not when the intensity of what he did to her was downright unnerving.

Shay pressed her head to his chest, heard the rapid beat of his heart, as surely as she felt the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her stomach. He was right. They weren’t kids anymore. Everything had changed.

His hands traveled around her back, caressing, before resettling at her waist, his touch possessive and strong, his fingers sensually trailed her ribs, just below her breasts. Driving her crazy with anticipation of where they might travel. Shay pressed her hands then over his at her waist. Squeezed her eyes shut at the tightening of her nipples, the desire willing her to direct his hands where she wanted them. Not caring where they were. Ten years of foreplay apparently had consequences. She’d never felt so erotically charged and lost—not in private, let alone in public. And with what little reason she had remaining, Shay knew she had to end this, to get out of here before she did something she would regret.

Her gaze lifted to his, a plea meant to say,
no more. Stop.
“Caleb,” she whispered, and the word was again a plea, but not the one intended. This was a plea for something else, a plea for more of him. A plea that had her pressing to her toes, stretching for his mouth. A plea he answered.

Caleb’s fingers slid into her hair, his mouth lowering, a brush of lips, innocent enough for public display until it wasn’t innocent at all. Shay had no idea what happened, hardly remembered anything except the burn for more. More of him.

One minute they were on the dance floor. The next she was in the corner, hidden by the jukebox, back against the wall, and Caleb was kissing her. She was kissing him. Wild passionate kissing. Her leg was wrapped around his, her hand in his hair. His hand curved over her backside and pulled her tight against his hips, settling the hardness of him into the
V
of her body. Shay moaned into his mouth at the feel of the thick bulge of his erection. At the feel of his hand finally on her breast. Her hand on top of his telling him not to stop. But he did stop—tore his mouth from hers—and she whimpered from the loss. He framed her face with his hands, stared at her a long, hard moment and then moaned at whatever he saw in her face—the unmasked passion she knew was there. And then he kissed her again.
Yes, more.
But it was short, passionate—over too soon.

He grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

She tried to pull against him, her body screaming in demand.
No. Stay. Kiss. Touch.
But he was strong, insistent, and she followed, rounding the jukebox, and she blinked reality back into view. Heat rushed across her cheeks. There was a pool game going on at the far end of the room. People nearby. And she hadn’t cared, and wasn’t sure she would care if Caleb pulled her right back behind that jukebox. She barely recognized herself; she’d never be so daring.

Her head was still spinning when Caleb opened the truck door and kissed her quickly—but no less passionately—before helping her climb into the cab. Darkness surrounded her, anticipation of what came next. A tiny sliver of reason said,
Not tonight—he’ll wake up with regrets and so will you.
But Caleb was already climbing inside the truck, and all she could think of was how close he was, and how easy it would be to touch him again. How much she wanted to.

He stared out the window but didn’t start the engine. He sat there. She sat there. Sexual energy clawed at her, at them, expanding until she thought the windows would burst. And then, he slid the keys into the ignition and started the engine. When he paused, she thought he’d changed his mind, but he reached for her and pulled her to his side, their legs aligned. Her hand on his thigh.

His fingers wrapped around her neck, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “In case you start thinking too much. We’re done thinking.”

And then he put the truck in gear.