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You see what happens when you lose control?
She should have known better, especially where her children were concerned. She had vowed two years ago, when Brad had shattered their marriage, that never again would she let someone else control her life. First her parents, then her husband, had shaped her into exactly what they wanted…and always with her silent cooperation. But as of age twenty-four, Kirsten had decided, she was finally going to take charge of her own and her children’s lives.
And she’d done it for the past two years. She’d maintained her independence, shielded her daughter and sons from seeing their father’s breezy irresponsibility, and spent virtually every waking moment creating the kind of world they deserved. But for the past two weeks, hoping Brad’s recent interest in family would grow stronger without her interference, she’d forgone the phone calls that would have alerted her to his latest impulse…and now her children were paying the price.
“I really, really hope,” she said, tucking her peach linen shirt more neatly into her khaki slacks, “we’ll find them right away.”
“Yeah, so do I.” The gruff intensity in J.D.’s voice touched her—it was sweet of him to care so much about Lindsay and Adam and Eric—until she realized that he had his own reasons for wanting to finish the search quickly. After all, he had another life to get back to.
She needed to remember that.
“When do you leave for Chicago?” she asked him, adjusting her sun visor against the early-morning glare.
“Soon as my assignment comes through.” He braked for a red light, his work-roughened hands at rest on the steering wheel. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”
She couldn’t think of many people who would enjoy battling a whole new city full of drug dealers, but this man wasn’t like anyone else she knew. “And you’re excited about it,” Kirsten said.
“Yeah.” With the edgy light of anticipation in his eyes, he looked suddenly younger. “It’s a brand-new task force, a whole different setup. Getting things done without a bunch of layers to work through… I like that kind of freedom.”
“Freedom,” she repeated slowly, gazing at the road ahead and wondering why the word sounded so lyrical coming from him. “I know. That’s always mattered to you.”
When it came to such things as freedom, J.D. Ryder had never made any secret of his ambition to “get the hell out of Tubac.” Everyone in town had known he planned to enlist in the army as soon as he turned eighteen, same as they’d known that Kirsten would become a kindergarten teacher and that Brad would tour the east Coast with his parents to select the college he preferred.
Both the boys’ ambitions had come to pass, exactly as Kirsten had expected. What she hadn’t expected was that on the night before Brad left for his college tour, he would ask her to return his class ring. “We’ve had a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong,” he’d told her in the driveway outside her house. “But we’re both moving on, and neither one of us ought to be tied down.” Shaken, she had given him back the ring she’d worn all year and spent the next few days at her new summer job wondering why the breakup had damaged her pride more than her heart.
Her parents and her girlfriends, all of whom wholeheartedly approved of Brad, had offered as much sympathy as anyone could want…but she moved through the first week of vacation feeling curiously detached from their efforts at consolation. Detached from the whole world, in fact, no matter how hard she concentrated on the new job—she had the sensation that all the while she was learning to make coffee, ringing up orders and counting out packets of raspberry jam, her real life was somewhere beyond reach. It wasn’t until J.D. stopped by the Snack-n-Go for bagels one morning that she felt herself flickering back to a state of awareness.
No point in remembering that now.
“Looks like we’ve got time to spare,” J.D. observed, turning into the airport parking lane and—to her relief—opting for short-term rather than long-term parking. It was reassuring that he seemed so confident, Kirsten thought as they moved swiftly through the routine of checking in, boarding the plane and settling down for the four-hour flight to Seattle.
It went faster than she’d expected, and the conversation was remarkably easy. In spite of his admitted indifference to the pleasures of family life, J.D. seemed to enjoy her stories about the children. Their first day of soccer practice, Lindsay’s beloved panda, the twins’ upcoming birthday party…. And when she saved the morning’s first packet of airline peanuts for Adam and Eric, he contributed his own as well.
“For a good cause, right?” he teased as she slid the bright blue packages into her purse.
“Right,” she agreed, tucking the peanuts beside Lindsay’s favorite bubble gum. “Now the boys won’t start arguing over who gets first pick. I used to hate it when Brad would bring home two different-size robots and expect them to work it out.”
“Your kids are building robots?”
He sounded so impressed, she hated to admit that they were only playing with them under the dining-room table. “Building robots shouldn’t impress somebody like you, though,” Kirsten told him. “You’ve always done mechanical-type things.”
He gave her a rueful grin. “Not anymore. I got enough of that at Manny’s.”
Manny’s Garage had hired him part-time during their junior year, and he’d started working there full-time the day after graduation. She hadn’t known that until the morning he came by the Snack-n-Go with an order from the entire crew, and she still remembered the jolt of recognition that had shot through her the moment she saw him across the counter.
J.D. hadn’t looked surprised at seeing her, but then, she’d started bragging about her summer job long before graduation. The chance to practice her independence before starting her freshman year at the University of Arizona—thanks to her friend Debbie, who’d gotten them matching shifts at the Snack-n-Go—had filled Kirsten with a wonderfully grown-up pride.
Although she hadn’t sounded all that grown-up when she greeted J.D., she remembered. Yet he hadn’t seemed to mind her lack of poise. Instead he’d given her the slow smile that Debbie always said “would make anybody weak who wasn’t dating Mr. Perfect weak in the knees” and asked what she’d heard from Brad lately.
“Nothing,” Kirsten had stammered. “He and I…we…”
“They broke up,” Debbie announced over her shoulder while filling the orange juice machine. “Where’ve you been, J.D.? I thought everyone in town knew.”
He hadn’t seemed to notice Debbie at all. His dark eyes stayed fixed on Kirsten’s, and then he said very softly, “Hey. I’m sorry, Kirs.”
“It’s okay,” she murmured, feeling strangely shy. She should have called J.D. with the news, but once the school bus rides ended there had been little chance for contact. “Anyway, I’m working here until the middle of August, unless my uncle invites us to his house in Mexico. So what can I get you?”
He’d placed his order with no further conversation, but he’d come again the next morning, and the next, and it seemed his visits always coincided with her time at the take-out counter. It seemed, too, that it took longer each day for his order to be filled…so that by Friday, when Debbie had to work late, it felt perfectly natural for J.D. to offer Kirsten a ride home.
She’d accepted without hesitation, even though her parents had told her to phone them if ever Debbie couldn’t drive her. J.D. was a friend, he was going her way, and there was really no reason she couldn’t ride on the back of his motorcycle. It was only common sense to suggest that he drop her off a short distance from home, just in case her mother might start lecturing about the importance of choosing the right friends…and although J.D. protested that he didn’t mind taking her right to her door, he didn’t press the point.
Which relieved her, because she didn’t want to explain her parents’ belief that there was a world of difference between Kirsten’s two closest friends. Brad had been welcome at her house anytime, always greeted with genuine warmth. By contrast, while J.D. was never turned away, it was understood that the Taylors would prefer not to see much of him.
Still, they’d never specifically told her to avoid him…and it was silly to take Debbie or her parents out of their way when J.D. was heading home right when she got off work.
She explained that to Debbie the next day, and although her friend raised her eyebrows she agreed that Kirsten might as well “enjoy it, since Mr. Rebel’s going your way.” So the ride home became a daily pattern, which she found herself looking forward to more and more.
It got so the trip lasted longer each day, as their afternoon conversations moved from friendly chat to intriguing discussion to something more thoughtful, more intimate and more appealing. She had never spent this kind of time alone with J.D. before, and she had the feeling they were both discovering unexplored depths within each other…even though they still would have defined themselves, if anyone had asked, as nothing more than friends.
Friendship, though, didn’t quite explain how the feel of his body stayed with her for hours after he dropped her off at the side street near her house. How the sound of his voice and the memory of his silences stayed with her, keeping her awake late at night. How the evocative scent of him reached her with such vivid clarity that, no matter what she was busy with when he walked into the Snack-n-Go, she would know within an instant that J.D. had arrived.
She couldn’t tell him that—J.D. probably heard such things all the time, from girls far more experienced than herself—but she couldn’t help wondering if those other girls had ever felt the kind of tantalizing awareness she felt growing between them as they shared more and more stories, more and more closeness, more and more time together. And after the third week of rides home, when she reminded him not to wait for her tomorrow because that was her day off, he looked at her for a long moment and said slowly, “I’m off, too. Want to do something together?”
Yes! was her first thought, but she’d already arranged to go shopping in Tucson with her mother. “I wish I could,” Kirsten told him, handing him back the motorcycle helmet he always insisted she wear. “I really wish I could. Only Mom’s been planning to do this college-wardrobe thing for a long time.”
“Ah.” He gazed at her for a moment longer, then clicked into first gear. “Well, have a good time.”
But she wouldn’t, Kirsten knew. Not when she’d spend the whole day missing J.D. Ryder. “Thanks,” she replied. “But I’d rather be with you.”
For one pulsing instant he stared at her, as if frozen in astonishment. Then, with what looked like a single, effortless move, he cut the ignition, hit the kickstand and drew her into his arms.
There was no time to think, and nothing to think about. All she knew was instinct, feeling, heat…the warmth of his embrace, of his hands caressing her face, his lips on hers—
Oh, yes.
Yes! J.D. felt so much hotter, so much stronger than she ever would have guessed. Their rides, no matter how tightly her arms encircled his waist, how sweetly his touch had lingered when he helped her astride the bike, hadn’t prepared her for the intensity of his body against hers, for the sheer, shivering passion of his kiss—
But already he was pulling away from her, taking a step back, staring at her with a mixture of apology and ancient, primal possession.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered.
Shouldn’t have done that? “But—”
He shook his head, looking so confused and yet so determined that she felt a tremor of fear. He couldn’t mean to back away from her now, could he?
“You’re just so…” he faltered, still gazing at her as if he’d never seen anyone he wanted more. “You’re—ah, Kirs.” With a muffled groan, he pulled her back against him and lifted her face to his kiss.
This one was headier, richer, more vivid than the first, and she gloried in the sheer, wild rightness of it. This was what she wanted, this was what she’d never experienced with anyone until now. Until J.D.
This, this was real—
Or so she’d believed at the time, Kirsten reminded herself as she turned to gaze out the airplane window at an endless bank of white.
She knew better now.
She’d known better for eight years, and it no longer mattered. All that mattered now was her children.
She held that thought like a talisman for the rest of the flight and felt a vague sense of relief when they landed in Seattle. For the last hour she’d avoided any recollections of that summer with J.D. Ryder, any memories of those old, mistaken feelings…and what she could manage for an hour, she could manage for a day. Or even two.
But please, God, don’t let it take that long.
Chapter Three
“This shouldn’t take long,” J.D. told Kirsten, relieved that she was still sitting where he’d left her. For the past hour she’d been distracted, and he had the impression her stamina was fading fast. “They’re bringing the car up. Meanwhile, let’s get you some lunch.”
She reacted with the same edginess she’d shown when he suggested she sit down near the car-rental counter. “I don’t need lunch.”
But she hadn’t eaten anything this morning, and he’d seen the crack of light under her door all night long. “Yeah, you do,” he said, glancing around the concourse and gesturing at a bright red hamburger stand across the way. “And unless you want to dig into the boys’ peanuts…. Come on.”
“J.D.,” she protested, rising from her seat with the swift, fluid grace he’d always admired, “you don’t need to worry about me. We’re here to find the kids, and it’s only half an hour to Brad’s house.”
All the more reason to restore her energy before they began the search for leads. “Right, but you still need to eat.”
Kirsten fixed him with an impatient gaze. “Not now, all right? Not when we could be on the road.”
On the road…
Without warning, he felt himself spinning into a whirlpool of memory. The two of them on the road…it was a vivid image, one he’d tried to erase, but had never managed to forget. They’d spent such soaring, glowing time together, those afternoons in Tubac, that even now he could still feel the sensation of her arms around his waist while he drove home as slowly as he dared.
She’d never complained about the length of the trip, which had amazed and then delighted him. That Kirsten Taylor could enjoy his company with such genuine ease, could laugh at references no one else would have understood, could save up stories from work to share with him…it was the kind of pleasurable intimacy he’d thought existed only in daydreams, but the summer after graduation it blessed him every afternoon.
She was so different from anyone else he’d known, because she never so much as hinted that his appeal lay in the thrill of forbidden fruit. He was used to that, had seen that flirtatious defiance from all but the girls who recognized him as their own kind, but with Kirsten he had the feeling that what she liked about him was…himself. Exactly the way he was. And with her, J.D. knew, he was more of what he wanted to be. Stronger. Gentler. More alive, more aware—oh, yeah, definitely more aware.
He wouldn’t let himself pursue that awareness except in fantasy, and she never hinted about extending an afternoon into a night. Yet as much as he admired her innocence, J.D. couldn’t help suspecting—after the kiss they’d shared—that a single spark would send her into radiant flames.
Still, the spark wasn’t going to come from him.
He’d made that vow eight years ago, J.D. remembered now, and he wasn’t going to break it again. Kirsten didn’t need him as part of her life now any more than she’d needed him then.
And he’d damn well better remember that…because if he let himself love her again, he couldn’t leave her a second time.
Not even for the rush of satisfaction, of stimulation he knew was waiting in Chicago. Which was a stupid way to think, because that was where he’d directed all his energies. In Chicago he’d be doing work he could take pride in, fighting the battles he was meant for.
Winning victories that didn’t fit the kind of man Kirsten needed.
“Tell you what,” J.D. said, forcing his attention back to the situation at hand. What she needed right now was someone to look out for her, and buying her a hamburger was about all he could do. “It’ll take ten minutes for them to bring the car around. In ten minutes we can get you taken care of—”
“J.D., I take care of myself. And—”
“You’re not doing a very good job of it.”
“—My children,” she concluded. Then, as his interruption echoed between them, her face crumpled. “I know,” she whispered.
Too late he realized how she must have interpreted his remark. “Hey,” he protested, “I didn’t mean you’re doing a bad job with your kids.” Anyone who spent ten minutes with this woman, even without having heard Brad describe her passion for motherhood, would realize how much she treasured her children.
But Kirsten didn’t seem to hear him, or maybe she just didn’t believe him. “I should have phoned them every day. Here I was thinking they needed time with their dad—and they do, especially the boys—only now I’ve lost them!”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault.” He was the one who’d failed to warn her about Brad’s bar talk, but telling her about that betrayal right now wouldn’t help matters any. “You didn’t know he was gonna do a one-eighty like that,” J.D. said instead, resisting the temptation to rest his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself.”
She twisted her fingers together, then looked at an on-coming crowd of travelers as if hoping to spot her children among them. “I have to get them back.”
“Well, that’s what we’re here for,” he assured her. And it was time he started taking better care of her than he’d managed so far. Which meant he’d better move away from her right now, before she could see any hint of the hunger inside him, and make sure she got some lunch. “Look, you keep an eye out for the car-rental guy…. I’m gonna get you something to eat.”
“You’re not taking care of me while my kids—” she began, and he cut her off.
“Yeah, I am. So just let me do it, okay?” Maybe she didn’t think she needed anyone buying her a hamburger, but he didn’t want to stand here and argue about it. Whatever Kirsten needed, whatever he could offer her, he was damn sure going to provide.
The way he’d done eight years ago, even though it had just about killed him.
The way he would continue doing for as long as it took to find her kids.
But, God, he hoped it wouldn’t take long.
She didn’t need him taking care of her, Kirsten reminded herself, watching J.D. stride across the concourse to the hamburger outlet. She could take care of herself, along with her children—
“You’re not doing a very good job of it.”
Which was why, right now, she wished she could huddle up in some quiet corner and cry herself numb. She couldn’t do that, though. She had to stick with her best shot at retrieving Lindsay and Adam and Eric, regardless of the potential risks. And if that meant letting J.D. Ryder run things, well…
He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, she admitted, watching his subtly commanding stance as he addressed the counter clerk. He probably made every frantic taxpayer he worked with eat regular meals, although it seemed out of character for a man who had always appeared indifferent to such routines. Still, as long as he didn’t go beyond ordering unwanted food, she could put up with his assumption of control.
The way she’d put up with Brad’s. And with her parents’ before that.
For so much longer than she should have…
Kirsten clenched her fists in her pockets and turned her gaze in the opposite direction. A hamburger was one thing. It would be silly to make a scene over a hamburger. But if J.D. Ryder attempted anything else that might slow down their search, she’d have to take charge. Tell him he was off the job. Get some other private detective.
Someone who would listen better than this man did. Who wouldn’t waste time trying to take care of her. Someone who wouldn’t keep her awake all night, torn between worry over her children and memories that refused to stay in the strongbox where she’d confined them for the past eight years.
Memories she didn’t need, didn’t want…any more than she wanted J.D. Ryder taking control of her carefully ordered life.
Memories of that long-ago summer together, when every afternoon had been filled with anticipation and wonder. Fascination. A growing certainty that the two of them belonged together more fully, more intensely than she had ever belonged with Brad.
She had been right in resisting Brad’s repeated invitations to show her what “real” fun could be, Kirsten knew that summer when each day shone with the anticipation of seeing J.D., with the glow of riding home together after work, talking to him, feeling the play of muscles in his body as he skillfully guided his bike around curves in the always-too-short road. Because what she’d felt for Brad Laurence had never come close to what she felt for J.D. Ryder…with whom she would gladly share the kind of intimacy she’d never shared before.
If only he would ask.
But he was shy about inviting her home with him, which Kirsten found endearing. She didn’t care about his father’s reputation, that they lived in what Brad had described as “kind of a dump,” that J.D.’s never-discussed background was so different from her own. What she cared about was his way of making her feel special. Listening to her as if she was more than just a perfect porcelain doll, as if her opinion genuinely mattered to him. As if she genuinely mattered to him.
