Leave it to Max (Lori's Classic Love Stories Volume 1) (14 page)

She kept very still. She didn’t move away,
though her eyes went wary, wide and dark.

He let his fingertips glide over her
cheekbone, across the fine lines. Only the tease of a touch, down
to her chin, where he spread his thumb over those tight, tight
lips. Her lids fluttered closed. She let out the breath she’d held,
on a sigh that was almost surrender.

With her smart mouth shut and her angry eyes
closed, he could almost believe it was that long-ago summer come
again.

Back then his hands had been hardened by
work, callused by tools, scarred from wood and nails. Back then
he’d been afraid to touch her for fear he’d scratch her with the
roughness of his skin or bruise her with his big, clumsy hands.

Yet when the nicks in his fingers had caught
and pulled her hair, she’d merely laughed and put her lips against
the cuts, then drawn her tongue along the center of his palm,
making him forget any fear, every caution. She’d placed his scarred
hands on her perfect body, letting him touch her any way that he
liked.

The past and the present blended. The pulse
in her throat throbbed, and he ached to put his mouth there, feel
the beat against his tongue. Instead he skimmed his fingers down
her neck to her collarbone, barely touching her, and she
shivered.

Her hair brushed the back of his hand. The
scent, secret summer, aroused him instantly. The dark, crisp
material of her business suit only emphasized the pearly shade of
her skin, a texture that was yet the softest thing he’d ever
touched.

His hands were no longer rough, hard or
clumsy, but he was still so afraid he might hurt her. Hurting her
was what he’d wanted to do the least but ended up doing the
most.

He should step back, let her go—Max was
waiting. And he very nearly did. But she opened her mouth and her
breath shook, then her lips trembled. Before he knew it, he was
kissing her and every good intention burned away.

Their last kiss had tasted of anger; this one
held the flavor of desperation. Tangy and wild, heedless yet
helpless—it tempted him to take all he’d once been given.

While he might not be a gentleman, he
had
acquired some finesse and a little bit of patience over
the years. So he gentled his mouth, soothed her trembling lips with
his tongue, placed a single finger on the pulse that taunted him
and absorbed her heartbeat into his own.

If she’d pushed him away he’d have gone,
gladly, because he was falling back in the deep, and sex would only
confuse this mess they were in. But tell that to his body. The
traitor. All it did was shout for hers.

Hers answered, bumping against him in
uncomfortable yet intriguing ways. Her mouth became more frantic.
Her fingers pulled at his shirt. Then her hands were against his
skin, on his belly, across his chest. He moaned, cursed, and tried
to pull away, but she fisted a hand in his hair and yanked him
back.

She was too reckless. Something was wrong.
And while his big-mouth body screamed,
Take her,
his mind
said,
Huge mistake,
and his heart whispered,
Not like
this.

He kissed her softly when she kissed him
hard, and he rubbed her back gently while she ran her short nails
across the twitching muscles in his stomach. He even murmured
soothing nonsense into her hair when she scraped her teeth across
his chest.

His lack of response finally penetrated, and
she looked at him, wary and uncertain.

Garrett brushed his fingers across her cheek.
“Are you going to slap me?”

The old Livy would have smiled. The new one
should have slapped him. What neither one of them would ever have
done was burst into tears.

When was the last time she’d cried like this?
Oh, there was the other night when Max was asleep with his
brand-new cast. But that hardly counted. She always cried after
serious bodily harm to her child. Call her a mother.

But to cry in public was another matter. And
to cry in front of Garrett Stark was a sin for which there was no
redemption. However, Livy couldn’t seem to stop. Mainly because he
said nothing, merely gathered her closer and let her weep as he
nuzzled her hair.

Wonder of wonders, she let him. Because she
was so cold, she shook, yet when his warmth seeped into her icy
skin, little by little the tremors stopped. His smell, though a
treacherous, traitorous temptation, would ease her if she just
closed her eyes and let herself be eased.

“Hush,” he murmured, stroking, soothing.
“It’s all over now. Nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

Little did he know, what scared her the most
was him. Because his strength was a trap and his comfort a lie. She
couldn’t depend on him; she could only depend on herself. Nothing
had changed. Even though it felt as though everything had.

Livy extricated herself from Garrett’s arms.
He let her go, though she could have sworn he clung just a little.
Odd, since she was the one who’d needed comfort.

Garrett was very good at giving comfort.
Probably because he’d given it a hundred times before. He’d just
never given it to her. She’d had no need of comfort that long-ago
summer when the world had been her playground and the future full
of promise. She hadn’t needed comfort until he’d gone.

She’d continued to hope for months. The one
thing that had killed the hope had been crying for him during a
twenty-three hour labor and hearing only the sound of her own voice
as an answer. Had it been then that she’d started to hate him? She
couldn’t remember; she only knew that she did.

She didn’t want to look into his face and see
the desire she could still taste reflected there. She wanted him.
So what? He was a beautiful man. He knew what to do with that
mouth, those hands, his body. He’d been her first, and she’d heard
a woman never forgot that. So far, she’d heard right.

How could she have kissed him like that,
touched him as if the intervening years had never been, as if all
the pain had never happened, while her child waited for her at
home? Because she’d been so afraid, and for a moment Garrett had
made the fear go away.

“I have to leave.” Livy started for the door
and ran right into him.

He grabbed her arms to steady her, then held
on when she struggled. “Just wait a minute. We’re not
finished.”

“We were finished nine years ago.”

“The existence of Max says differently.”

“Let me go.”

“Not yet.”

Livy stopped struggling. What was the point?
He was bigger and stronger than her, and if he chose to keep her
here, he could. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

They stood toe-to-toe, nearly nose-to-nose.
The only thing in the world right then was the two of them. The
moment stretched, long and taut. Deep down where the past lived,
she trembled.

“Just what in Sam Hill is going on here,
Livy?”

Garrett shoved her behind him and faced the
man who stood in the darkness of the hall. Garrett stood rigid and
ready, like a dog that had been startled over a bone.

Though Livy didn’t appreciate the comparison,
even if it was her own, his able protection soothed her thundering
heart. Despite his new fame and good fortune, Garrett had once
lived on the edge. His years of drifting had prepared him for
anything, and the sudden realization that no one, nothing, would
get through him to hurt her or Max made an uncommon feeling of
security flow through her.

“Who are you?” Garrett demanded.

“Step away from her.”

“I don’t think so.”

When Kim had said she’d call the cops, Livy
should have known she meant Detective Klein.

Klein had played football for the Citadel,
then spent eight years as a Marine—which explained his
salt-and-pepper crew cut, as well as his stoic demeanor—before
becoming a cop. The man was a mountain, and no one in town messed
with him.

“It’s okay.” Livy inched around her brand-new
watchdog.

He shoved her right back. No one but Garrett
messed with a mountain, it seemed.

“Mister, you’d better stop pushing her, or
I’m gonna get testy.’’

“You’d better tell me how you got in my house
and then get right back out.’’

“Door was open.”

Garrett cursed. “I may as well put a
revolving entrance out there. Thanks for stopping in. Now you can
leave.”

Klein laughed, a deep rich sound that Livy
loved. He was a good man, a gentle man for all his size, and one
terrific cop. From the moment she’d met him, she’d liked him.

Perhaps it was the sadness that always
hovered at the edges of his oddly light blue eyes and made her want
to pat him on the top of the head, if she could reach it. Or maybe
it was the fact that Klein was not a handsome man—not handsome
being an understatement.

Livy’s gaze touched upon Garrett. She had
seen the underside of handsome and it wasn’t something she wanted
to see again. If the measure of character was the homeliness of a
face, then Klein was nearer to sainthood than anyone.

Klein reached behind him, and Garrett tensed,
ready to pounce. But the detective only brought out his badge,
flipped it open, then shut. “Where’s the boy?”

“Home, safe and sound. Why did you call the
police, Livy?”

“I didn’t.” She stepped from behind him, and
this time he let her. “Kim?” she asked.

Klein grunted. “She was mighty upset. You had
your cell phone off again.”

Livy carried her phone wherever she went, but
only remembered to turn it on if she tried to make a call and had
no power. With a child like Max, she needed to break that
habit.

Klein and Garrett sized each other up. Now
they looked like two junkyard dogs circling, preparing to fight
over her—that bone again. If Livy didn’t do something, she figured
they’d start bumping chests and howling at the moon.

She moved closer to Detective Klein. Garrett
followed, and she gave him a “get lost” glare, which he
ignored.

“What was Max doing here?” Klein asked.

“None of your business.”

Livy could almost see the hair on the back of
Garrett’s neck rise, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a
growl. His aggressive stance went beyond annoyance with her,
irritation over being interrupted or anger at having his home
invaded against his will. Garrett seemed to have a problem with
authority.

Livy was an expert on that, having bailed her
mother out of jail on countless occasions because of the same
foible. She'd figured Max got his rebellious streak from Mama.
Looked like the DNA strands for rebellion had come from both sides
of the family.

“Who is this guy?” Klein demanded.

Livy opened her mouth, but Garrett answered,
instead. “Garrett Stark.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“But I don’t mind answering.”

Klein ignored him. “Kim said you’d come here
searching for Max. Why?”

Garrett answered for her again. “Because
I’m—”

Livy elbowed Garrett in the ribs. He doubled
over and coughed. Klein’s eyes narrowed, his gaze jumping between
the two of them.

“He’s Garrett Stark,” she said.

“I heard that. So what?”

“The horror author.”

“Good for him. But what does that have to do
with Max?”

Livy remained silent. She wasn’t any good at
lying. Perhaps because she’d spent so much energy on her one big
lie, she had little left for any more. She’d never seen that lack
as anything but an asset. Juries and judges seemed to sense her
sincerity. She did well in court. But in a situation like this...
Sometimes Livy wished she could lie as well as the master standing
next to her.

Garrett’s palm cupped her elbow. “Max is
interested in writing, so he came to me with questions.”

Klein, not an idiot on any scale, stared at
each in turn. “I find it hard to believe that Livy Frasier allowed
her son to spend time with a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger.”

The detective’s gaze touched on Garrett’s
hand cupping Livy’s elbow. “Funny, that’s just what I was
thinking.”

Livy didn’t want Klein thinking anything. The
man was like a bloodhound when it came to the scent of a
secret.

“Max left school in the middle of the day,”
she blurted.

“Which would explain why Kim was nuts when I
called the office.”

Livy stepped away from Garrett, radar beeping
like a beacon at Klein’s words. “What do you mean
you
called
the office? I thought Kim called you.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Don’t play stalwart cop with me, Klein. Why
did you call?”

The detective sighed, shuffled his feet, and
Livy knew. “What did she do this time?”

“Who?” Garrett asked.

“My mother.”

Something in Klein’s gaze unnerved her, and
Livy wished she hadn’t moved away from Garrett’s touch. The fact
that she longed for the comfort she’d only just discovered him
capable of, made her speak too sharply. “What happened?”

“You’d better come to the station with
me.”

The funny black spots she’d seen earlier on
the porch were back, and this time they were dancing.
Unfortunately, there was no convenient chair for her to sit in, so
the world did a nasty dip and twirl.

Someone caught her by the shoulders. Even
with her eyes closed, Livy knew Klein, not Garrett, had steadied
her. The detective’s hands were strong yet fumbling. Gentle enough,
but not the hands of a man who wanted anything more than to keep
her from breaking her nose.

“Tell her what happened before she faints,”
Garrett snapped.

“I never faint.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Shut up.”

“She’s okay now, Klein. You can get your
hands off of her.”

Klein peered into Livy’s face with a half
smile. “I don’t think I will just yet. What’s going on here, Livy?
I’ve never seen you this jumpy, and with you that’s saying quite a
bit.”