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Now That You're Here
Lynnette Kent
A lot can change in twenty years…Emma Garrett's honoring her father's last request–find Jimmy Falcon and give him a medallion that rightfully belongs to him and his people. It's been more than twenty years since Emma last saw Jimmy, and she looks forward to seeing him again.But when she tracks him down she discovers that this Jimmy bears very little resemblance to the proud young Sioux she'd once been in love with. This Jimmy's cynical about his roots and wants nothing to do with the gift–or its secret.But Emma's changed, too. Years ago she gave up on Jimmy too easily. This time the stakes are higher….
Dear God, what had she done?
Nothing much, the rational part of her brain insisted. A spot of reminiscent lovemaking with the first lover she’d ever known. No harm done. Actually quite pleasant.
But her heart knew better. Her heart knew what kissing Jimmy Falcon revealed about the state of her emotions. Any hope of coming out of this encounter intact had just vanished.
She heard the front door open and close, and knew that Jimmy had left. That was okay. She didn’t need him to stay and try to apologize or explain. What had happened between them was as clear as a mountain spring, as irresistible as the glaciers that had carved valleys into the mountains. At seventeen she’d taken that power for granted, used it and then let it go.
At thirty-eight she doubted she had the grace—or the strength—to act so unselfishly again.
Dear Reader,
A love affair that ends in separation often does so painfully. It’s the nature of human beings to feel hurt when someone we’ve been close to no longer cares. Many reunion romance stories start with a relationship that somehow went wrong. The challenge for those heroes and heroines is to deal with the mistakes of the past and move into the future together.
I wanted to write about a couple who loved, then lost, but always remembered each other with gratitude and laughter. No guilt, no wounds from their mutual past to mar the present. Instead, it’s the experiences they’ve known in their years apart that come between them—the changes life has made in their attitudes, their feelings about themselves and each other.
A series of harsh defeats has left scholarly, vulnerable Emma Garrett seeking to regain her belief in herself as a successful and desirable woman. Ex-cop Jimmy Falcon has lost the enthusiasm of his youth, settling for a dark view of the world and his place in it. In the process of caring for the people around them, however, Jimmy and Emma learn that the surest way to gain is, in fact, to give. Once these two lost souls come to value themselves, they’re free to experience life’s greatest blessing—sharing that gift with each other. I hope reading their story brings you the pleasure writing it has brought me. And I hope you’ll share your love of books with your friends and acquaintances, thus supporting the Get Caught Reading program. After all, U.S. president Thomas Jefferson couldn’t live without books, and neither should anyone else!
I love to hear from readers—please feel free to write to me at P.O. Box 17195, Fayetteville, NC 28314, or send e-mail to lynnkent@juno.com.
Lynnette Kent
Now That You’re Here
Lynnette Kent
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my agent, Deidre Knight, with thanks. I hope this is only the first of many projects we’ll see through together.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u20881a65-a0f4-5186-aebb-41098a3118ab)
CHAPTER TWO (#u2207efb5-310d-53f1-8072-1f6497c907ef)
CHAPTER THREE (#u8f4a49ae-d37e-5929-96cb-0a617a73ec9a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ub16dca7a-e897-5913-9df6-e65a203be264)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u04619893-5b5c-5e3b-9310-aaf37123fe6b)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
AFTER TWENTY YEARS fifteen minutes more or less didn’t matter much.
Jimmy Falcon pulled his shirtsleeve down over his watch, leaned an elbow on the bar and picked up his glass. If he had to wait for a woman, he didn’t know of a better way to pass the time than standing in his own club, sipping old whiskey while listening to hot jazz.
When he checked the time again, discovering that only fifteen minutes more had passed, he realized even waiting with jazz had its limits. Where was she? Had she decided not to show up after all?
Finally, he decided to wait outside, by the entrance to the club. Maybe she’d had trouble finding the place. He could flag her down when she drove by.
Then again, would she even recognize him, after twenty years? Would he recognize her?
The answer to that question hit him right between the eyes as he stepped through the door. In a night full of people, he couldn’t help but notice the woman on the other side of the street. She was tall, generous through the hips and long in the legs under her jeans. She could be anyone, from anywhere, but something about the set of her shoulders inside a soft pink T-shirt, the tumble of gold-red curls clipped on top of her head, created a vibration deep inside him.
Barely noticing the traffic, he got across as fast as he could and put a hand on her arm. “Emma? Emma Garrett? Why the hell are you standing here in the dark?”
As she turned toward him, her blue eyes widened, first with caution, then surprise, finally, laughter. “Jimmy! I was coming in to find you!”
Just like that, with a street full of people gaping at them, Emma Garrett took hold of him. Again.
She flung her arms around his neck, and Jimmy returned the embrace, cautiously at first, then with more enthusiasm. Twenty years since he’d last held her, but the fit felt like it was yesterday. They were nearly the same height; her full breasts pressed into his chest as she hugged him tight, then tighter still. She wore a different perfume than he remembered, but he liked it. He liked everything about having Emma Mae Garrett this close.
When he finally forced himself to ease back, Emma let him go until just their hands touched. He searched her face in the streetlight’s glare, seeing again the clear, pale skin, dusted with freckles, the deep peach of her mouth, the bright blue eyes. For a second he was seventeen again, starting the best summer of his life.
But the past was…just the past. With a wrench, Jimmy pulled his thoughts to the present. “This isn’t the safest part of town to stand around in after dark. Come inside.” Taking her hand, noticing its softness, he led Emma across the street and into The Indigo.
One of the edgier jazz bands was playing tonight, the music hard and loud. Smoke hovered in the air and he heard Emma cough as the fog caught her by the throat. The place was full, especially for a Tuesday. He threaded his way through the crowd without letting go of her hand, stopped at the bar long enough to order them both a drink, then headed for his office.
“Sorry about that.” He leaned back against the closed door. All they could hear now was the pulse of the bass and the drums. “Things get kind of loud out there.”
Smiling, Emma shook her head, and a curl of red-gold hair escaped to bounce on her neck. “It’s wonderful music.” Her English accent was as elegant as he remembered.
“You still like jazz?”
“I dropped it for a few years. Then came to my senses.”
“Nothing’s quite the same, is it?”
“Nothing.” They looked at each other for a second, while the air got tighter, harder to breathe. Jimmy thought about the beat-up truck he’d owned that summer two decades ago, about popping an Ellington tape into the player and sitting with his arm around Emma, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains. About the things they’d learned together in that truck, in the dark…
“Have a seat,” he said abruptly. Looking relieved, Emma sank into the recliner in the corner while he rounded his desk. Before he could sit down, there was a knock on the door.
“Drinks, boss.” Darren McGuire, the club’s server, set a tonic water on the table beside Emma and a whiskey at Jimmy’s right hand. “Anything else?”
Jimmy consulted Emma. “Would you like a sandwich? Nachos? The variety’s not great, but we can feed you.”
She leaned forward to pick up the tonic. “Actually, I haven’t eaten since my flight left New York at nine this morning. I’d love a bite—something simple.”
He nodded at Darren. “Ask Hank to give us the best he’s got.”
The young man raised an eyebrow. “That’s not much.” He caught sight of Jimmy’s frown. “I’m going. I’m going.”
Shaking his head, Jimmy dropped into his chair. “God save me from wisecracking waiters.” He took a drink of whiskey, just for something to do. After twenty years, after anticipating this meeting for five long days, he suddenly didn’t know how to act.
The direct approach usually worked best. “So…your e-mail was kinda mysterious. You said when you were coming here, but not why.”
After a pause, while she stared into her glass and he stared at her, Jimmy said, “Emma? Do you want some gin with the tonic? Vodka?”
She jumped a little. “Oh. No. This is fine. I’m simply trying to decide how to begin.”
“Sounds bad.”
“It is, in a way.” Her gaze came to his face. “My father had prostate cancer. He died three months ago at home in England.”
The ground dropped out from beneath Jimmy’s feet for a minute. It was always a shock when someone you knew—and liked—was gone. “That’s…I’m sorry. He was a really good man.”
“Yes.” She looked at her hands, set down the glass of tonic.
Another long silence. “Are you here because of your dad?”
“Yes. I don’t know why I’m making this so difficult.” She drew a deep breath. “Before he died, my father asked me to find you. And when I found you, he wanted me to bring you a bequest.”
“He shouldn’t have bothered.” Jimmy resisted the urge to loosen his tie, though his collar felt a little tight all at once.
“But he did.” She reached into her large leather purse and drew out a polished wooden box, four inches square, two inches deep. “The gift is inside. I don’t know what it is—there’s a seal I didn’t want to break.” She showed him the blob of gold wax over the catch on the side.
“Emma, I don’t need—”
She got to her feet and crossed to the desk, picked up his hand and placed the box on his palm. “It’s yours. He wanted you to have it.”
He felt her touch deep in his chest. “Okay, okay. We’ll see what’s inside.”
“This isn’t any of my business.” She backed toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“No way.” He reached across and caught her wrist. “We’re doing this together. Sit down.”
He waited until she took the straight-backed chair on the other side of the desk, then pulled out his pocketknife and flipped open the blade. The sharp tip slipped easily underneath the seal and pried it off in one piece.
He closed the knife and set it aside, then sat staring at the box. Walnut, he thought, inlaid with two lighter woods in an angular, mazelike pattern. “Well, here goes.” He thumbed the hook free and eased the top back on its hinges.
Clean, soft sheepskin filled the shallow cavity, cushioning a silver disk as wide as the box. He picked up the medallion for a closer look. Inlaid with gold and silver and different shades of turquoise, the piece felt heavy in his hand.
“What is it?” Emma asked softly.
Jimmy shook his head. “Hell if I know.” Fine engraving combined with the inlay to create a sunrise over mountains.
Emma stirred. “There’s something in the lid.”
Laying the disk on its nest, Jimmy pulled the folded sheet of paper out of the box’s top and spread it open. Bold handwriting in fountain-pen ink covered the page.
Jimmy,
You may remember Joseph Hobson, an elder of your tribe on the reservation in South Dakota. After a chance meeting in Africa as college students, he and I corresponded for many years; my work with the Sioux language and traditions owed much to the friendship between us. When I left the United States and returned to England the last time, he knew we would not see each other again in this life. This medallion was his parting gift to me. He did not know where or by whom it was made, only that he’d received it from his father, who got it from his grandmother.
I’ve been unable, over the years, to pursue any useful research on this amazing work of art. And now I’ve run out of time. I feel strongly that the medallion has a purpose in the lives of those who hold it, and equally strongly that I must convey the purpose to you. I would be pleased to think you and Emma worked together to discover its significance. May your effort bring you what you most desire.
Until we meet again, I remain your friend,
Aubrey Garrett
Without a word, Jimmy passed the note across the desk to Emma. She read silently, then sat for a minute with her fingertips against the letters, as if she could connect with the writer. Her lips trembled slightly, and her blue eyes were bright with tears.
His own throat tightened. “I know you miss him.”
“Oh, yes.” She pressed her lips together. “That’s why I felt compelled to deliver the gift as he asked.”
“Did you know about—” he pointed to the medallion “—this?”
Emma shook her head. “Dad didn’t mention it to me. I was studying in France during his last trip to the reservation, about six years ago. And I never noticed it when I visited. His house was always such a jumble of books and papers and artifacts…” She took a deep breath. “It’s taken me this long to get the place orderly enough to sell.”
Jimmy refolded the note and put it back in the top of the box, which he closed and latched. Then he covered Emma’s hand with his own. “I’m grateful your dad thought about me. And I’m really glad for the chance to see you again. Can we spend some time together? How long will you be in Denver?”
“I…don’t have any definite plans for the next few weeks. I’d be glad to stay for a bit and help you with the research.”
A warning bell sounded in his brain, just as a knock shook the door. “Food, boss.”
