When the Heart Lies (32 page)

She smiled. “How long have you been looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in another world.” A soft giggle slipped from her.

“Since the day I first saw you.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she had to look away. “You’re funny.”

He got up, went to the bed, sat next to her, and stroked her face with the back of his hand.  “I’m not trying to be funny. I meant it. Did you sleep well?”

She took his hand in hers and kept it resting on her face. “Yes, and I needed it. How long was I out?”

With gentleness, he skimmed his hand over her hair. “Just a couple hours, we don’t have to go out if you’re still tired. How’s your head?”

She sensed a hint of disappointment in his tone. “It’s fine, just tender. I want to go, and it looks like you’re all ready. You look nice in black.” She fiddled with the collar of his shirt and adjusted his tie. He had a great sense of style. “I’ll go get ready. I won’t be long.”

After he put their things in the Escalade, he did one more sweep of the room. She was ready by the time he was done.

She’d gathered her hair up in a loose style, leaving her neck exposed, but it tumbled in soft curls down her back. The teardrop, blue topaz earrings Xavier sent to match her dress sparkled, but not as brilliantly as the sapphire when it moved as she fiddled with them. Her strapless, azure cocktail dress hugged her breasts with an inch thick, black velvet border around the bodice and at the hem, which flared just above her knees. A twinge of guilt pulled at her, considering that she was supposed to be all dressed up for Nick. It passed quickly.

When she walked out of the bedroom, he nodded his approval and stood looking at her with both hands in his side pockets. He hesitated at the black stilettos and shook his head. “You’re killing me. You know that, don’t you?”

She smiled, took his arm, and they headed out for the night.

He picked another romantic, picturesque location, an upscale Italian restaurant off the pier. They sat at a semi-secluded table close to the musicians. The smell of the ocean in the light breeze and the sound of the waves stroked the melody that played. Paper lanterns hung on droopy wire lines, giving a soft, romantic glow. Iced Cristal was on the table when they arrived. It was obvious that this was prearranged. He must have been to the restaurant before because the maître d’ called him Mr. Pierce in a familiar way.

“Do you bring a lot of women here?” she said, tongue-in-cheek.

He smiled. “No. I’ve come here on business in the past.”

“Business?” She wasn’t prying for information. She was just wondering.

“I was a prosecutor here in Le Grand for about six years. The cop deal was very short lived, too many rules. I haven’t been doing the PI stuff long, but I like it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

With a light shake of his head, he smiled and gazed at her.

“What?” She countered, confused by his response.

“Nothing, it’s just that every other woman I’ve ever told that to wonders if I’m crazy. They see it as going backwards.”

“Doing what you enjoy is never going backwards.”

Again, time was flying too fast. Dinner was already almost half over. She wondered if time ever moved at the right pace.

“So what about this book you’re writing? Tell me about it. It’s called
Broken
?”

She didn’t bother asking how he knew about the book. It was clear he’d made it his business to know everything possible about her in the last six months. He’d been in her home, met her family, and listened to her conversations. She was relieved he didn’t question her about Wayde, glad he somehow understood what she’d been through, and knew she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“The title changed to
Unbroken
after the revisions were made. I’ve been working on something new.
Unbroken
is a romance about a woman who struggles with life, love, and self, but eventually heals. I received the advance a couple weeks before I came. Xavier was the only person I told; he always encouraged me to write.” She lowered her eyes.

He took her hand. “I’m glad he was there for you. Will you send it to me before it’s published, or do I have to wait?” He poured more champagne. “Would you like dessert?”

“Yes, you may read the book. I’ll send the manuscript to you, Mr. Pierce. And yes, I’d like dessert, but not here.” She pursed her lips in a pretty, smiling way.

“I know what you’re going to ask. Pierce is related. We aren’t close, and I told you how I feel about him.”

She didn’t question him further, knowing some things were difficult to share.

He turned toward the dance floor. “Well, only one thing left I’d like to do before we leave.” He signaled to the band. The music stopped, and he held his hand out leading her to the dance floor. “
Flor D’ Luna” started to play. Unbelievably smooth with the Latin rhythm, he maintained steady eye contact, dancing the way he made love —with complete engagement. He pulled her in close and whispered. “Do you know why I chose this song?” He kept his mouth at her ear. The sensation of his wispy breaths roused her ache for him.

She buried her face in his neck to hide, sure that her flushed cheeks and desiring eyes reflected what was pulsing through her. “No.” She barely breathed the word out.

“Our first night, by the lake, the moon, it lit you like a Moonflower.”

Their mouths melded together; time was perfect and still. She was unsure how long they held each other once the music stopped.

~ ~ ~

They arrived at Jackson’s house
shortly after leaving the restaurant. The location of the property surprised her. In her preconceived notions of his home, she’d imagined a carefree bachelor pad with haphazard décor and remnants of the previous night’s frolics. Instead, she was standing in front of a charming Sixties’ era Craftsman Bungalow with nothing but the ocean for a backyard. The inside was airy and comfortable with eclectic pieces that made her suspect each had a special place of importance. She was impressed. There were loads of books and, from the looks of it, a remarkable vinyl collection. She’d been right. Something did lie beneath.

It was late, and her heart jumped when an urgent pounding disturbed the quiet. Jackson went to the door without hesitation and opened it. Dr. Pierce stood in the doorway.

“A little late for house calls.” Jackson held the door opened, and Pierce came in.

When Pierce saw her, he hesitated. “I need to talk to you privately, Jackson.” He nodded politely toward Kinsley. “I’m sorry to bother you. This won’t take long.”

“Just say what you have to say. She can stay.”

Uncomfortable, she started to interject, but Jackson raised his hand stopping her.

“Jackson, are you sure you want to do this here,” Pierce said. “I know you’re a very private person, and I’ve tried to respect that.”

The veins in Jackson’s neck bulged. “I know what you’re here for, and it’s none of your business. The ring’s mine, to do with what I want, and I want it on Kinsley.”

Pierce was calm, but direct. “Jackson, your wife should wear that ring. Kinsley’s a married woman, and from what Rayne says, she’s going home to her husband. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Jackson took a step, throwing his hands in the air. “My mother was a married woman. Your brother’s wife for
Christ’s sake!”

His Father?
She stood, stunned, not knowing what to expect next.

“I loved your Mother, I still do, and I love you, too.” Pierce didn’t yell, but his voice wavered as if it was about to crack, and his head dropped down. “When I lost her, I lost both of you. We did the best we could. She wouldn’t have wanted this after all the effort she put into keeping us close to each other. Uncle Jackson, he was around for everything. Do you remember him? Well, he remembers you. My own son, my namesake, calling me uncle. It killed me. It was a mistake to lie in the first place and an even bigger mistake allowing you to stay with your sister. You were eight. You would’ve adjusted being with me, but I couldn’t bear your tears. Or you blaming me.”

“You couldn’t bare it? What about an eight-year-old boy who just lost his mother and the only father he knew? Who was I supposed to blame? You were the only one left to blame. You should have endured my tears. I lost the three of you. Since then, the burdens have been on me. What kind of parent lets a traumatized child make a decision about where he’ll grow up?” He sat on the sofa, pulled his hands through his hair, and glanced at Pierce.

Everyone was still. She wondered if he even remembered she was in the room.

After a time, he looked at her, and while he spoke, he never broke his intense stare. “I want Kinsley to have the ring. I love her. As much as you loved my mother.”

The words drenched her with the desire to say she felt the same. Hearing them, even though he said them before he wanted to, filled her with the need to run to him and tell him the words mattered, regardless of the circumstances.

Pierce watched the interaction and broke the silence that followed it. “Then she should have it.” He turned to her. “Kinsley, this wasn’t about you. I’m sorry I interrupted. Jackson, I’ll see myself out.”

“Wait.” Jackson’s taut expression softened. He stood and went to the door with Pierce. Looking directly at him, he held out his hand. “Thank you for understanding. We’ll talk soon.”

Pierce gave a half nod, gulped down a swallow, and shook his hand. The sentiments put a lump in her throat that couldn’t be swallowed. Jackson closed the door behind him and took a moment before turning back to her.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you today, but I wasn’t ready. I … I didn’t know if I could forgive him. But the more time I spend with you, the more I see how he’s suffered. We’ll work things out.”

She went to him and quieted him with a kiss. “How about that wine?” She knew he’d talk to her in time. She also knew it wouldn’t be tonight. She would have felt the same in his position.

He smiled from his eyes and blew out a breath. “Wine sounds perfect.”

She refrained from telling him that what she could use was a shot of whiskey after that. Not really, but she was shaken from the intensity of the scene. With a puckered lip, she nodded her head as she looked around. “This place is something.”

“You sound surprised.” He glanced up, revealing a perceptive smile as he poured their wine.

“I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I did pigeonhole you into a typical bachelor lifestyle.” She led him to the sofa by the two tie tails that hung around his opened collar. “You’re far from typical.”

They sat, and she leaned her back against him. She didn’t want to rush. She wanted to savor their time. His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her in close.

After they talked a while, she asked, “Why haven’t you asked me what happened at the cabin?” She felt his exhale breeze across the top of her head.

“Because it wasn’t important to me unless you wanted to talk about it. Besides, if I don’t know anything, I won’t have to perjure myself.” He chuckled.

She elbowed him in the side playfully. “How’d you know?”

“About the fire?”

“Yes.”

“It was just a hunch, and then when Olivia went over your story with me, it wrapped up like a Christmas present. A little too perfect. If Olivia wasn’t so clouded by her feelings for
Xavier she might have noticed, too. She was thrilled to tell him she had you safe, sound and ready to be shipped home.”

“Do you think I’m horrible?” She didn’t completely regret that Wayde and Remy were dead, and that made her feel like a monster.

“No, I think you’re a mother who has been protecting her child. Truthfully, if I thought they’d done something to
my
child, I wouldn’t have had the compassion to drug them first.”

She snuggled in closer to him; his words comforted her.

He kissed her head and turned to face her. “You don’t look at yourself realistically. You put the things you hate about yourself under a microscope. Everything isn’t always your fault, and you don’t always have to fix it. Not alone anyway. I wish you were able see what I see. You’d never doubt yourself if you could see what I see.”

“Why me, Jackson? Why are you so interested when it’s obvious I’m a mess?”

He held her face in his hands and focused intently on what he was saying. “For three months, I watched you. The loneliness in you was unmistakable. It made me see the emptiness in my own life. After I met you, I saw a change. I saw you smile. I was lost in you then.”

With each word, she was falling more in love with him, but what he was saying panicked her. She moved to get up, and he pulled her back. His face tensed, his voice became pleading.

“Don’t try to run away from what’s real.”

“I don’t know what’s real.” She sounded cross, but she wasn’t. She was afraid of her growing attachment. When she tried to pull away, he grabbed her again, pinning her beneath him.

“That’s a bunch of crap. You know exactly what’s real. And you run from it because you know you can’t control reality like a make believe story. Do you think Nick is all you deserve? Do you think that little of yourself?” He paused. “You go back. If you think living a lie is going to be good for Max, you’re kidding yourself.” He said it, low and icy, close to her face, penetrating her eyes with his. Then he kissed her. It was possessive and passionate. She was his.