Текст книги "Lost and Found"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Kelly Jamieson
Lost and Found

For anyone who ever wanted to write something different and was told “you can’t do that”—yes, you can. Thank you, Samhain!

Chapter One

“There must be a mistake.” Krissa’s husband’s voice broke the ponderous silence in the doctor’s office. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Edgar repeated. Did he really think saying that would make them feel any better? “The tests were repeated and the results were the same.”

“Bullshit,” Derek said. “You…”

“Derek.” Krissa murmured his name and he stopped.

Krissa reached for Derek’s hand and his fingers tightened around hers. She drew in a long, quivery breath. She glanced at him, his face hard, lips pressed together, eyes staring across the doctor’s office, apparently at the framed certificates on the bland beige wall. Hot tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back.

“So what do we do now?” Derek’s voice was thick, unfamiliar.

“Well, at this point there are a few options,” Dr. Edgar said.

Krissa’s throat tightened. They’d talked about the “options” already. Over the last two years, they’d talked about every conceivable option.

Now they knew for sure where their problem lay, their options were reduced. But they still had options.

She squeezed Derek’s hand reassuringly.

“Yeah, we know the options.” Derek gave a jerky nod, rose from his chair and walked abruptly out of the office

“Thank you, Dr. Edgar.” Krissa stood too, and followed Derek with an apologetic glance over her shoulder at the doctor.

Derek strode down the hall, and she focused on his broad back as she tried to keep up with him, followed him out of the clinic and into the parking lot.

The sun burned her already-stinging eyes as she stepped outside. She swallowed past the obstruction in her throat and dug for her sunglasses in her purse.

Derek’s long legs and obvious agitation carried him faster than Krissa could walk in her narrow skirt and heels, and she scurried across the parking lot toward him.

“Derek, wait.”

They’d come in two cars, Derek from his office and her from home, so she could go to her client meeting after their appointment with Dr. Edgar. She panted, paused with her hand on his arm while he unlocked the vehicle.

“What?” He yanked open his door and slid his long body into the driver’s seat.

Krissa’s chest squeezed painfully and she tried to take a deep breath. She hurt everywhere…hurt for Derek. And for herself, too.

She stood there beside the open door of the car. Derek looked straight ahead, held the keys in his hand. The summer sun had heated the interior of the car to sauna temperature, and sweat glistened on his forehead. He ran a finger inside his collar, his tie snug against his throat.

“Wait,” she said again, softly, putting her hand on his shoulder. The fabric of his suit was warm, soft, lightly padded over the muscle and bone of his broad shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He stared straight ahead. “Of course I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Her throat ached. He must be feeling so crappy, now that he knew what was wrong.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” She tightened her fingers on his shoulder.

She watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“It’s not okay,” he growled. His head dipped. “It’ll never be okay. Don’t even say it’s okay.”

Breath seeped out of her, leaving her hollow and aching. What could she say? What could she possibly say to make him feel better?

“I love you, Derek.”

He nodded, still didn’t look at her. “Love you too, baby.”

“We’ll talk later. At home.”

“Yeah.” He started the car, turned up the air. She felt the hot gust even outside the car.

“Okay.” She stepped back and let him close the door. He reversed out of the parking spot and sped away.

Krissa pressed her hand to her mouth and watched his car pull out of the parking lot onto Ocean Drive. Should he be driving right now?

A mother carried a baby in a car seat past Krissa and into the clinic. Did that mother even know how lucky she was?

A man walked out of the building, studying a prescription. Probably something that would make him better, whatever his problem was.

Nothing would fix this problem.

And now she was supposed to go meet with a client? My God. Her world had just been shaken as if a six-point-O tremor had rocked the San Andreas Fault just behind those mountains over there, and she had to go talk about employee rewards and incentives.

She turned, searching for her car, momentarily unable to remember where she’d parked it. She pushed her hair back off her face, her silk blouse sticking to her back beneath her suit jacket. She started walking, blindly, heels clicking on the pavement.

She paused, blinked, looked around her. Lord, she’d walked right past her car.

She sat in the car for long moments, her head feeling like a bubble.

It was good to have an answer. To finally know. They’d talk. They’d figure out what they were going to do next.

She blew out a breath, pointed the air conditioning vent directly at her hot face, and drove to her meeting at Phoenix Insurance to discuss her plan to help improve their staff morale.

He wasn’t answering his cell phone.

Krissa clicked off the phone and dropped it onto the counter.

After her meeting at Phoenix, she’d gone home, changed into shorts and a tank top, then made dinner. She had no interest in eating, but still she’d prepared one of Derek’s favorites—beef bourguignon, with little potatoes and a salad. The beef slow cooking in the oven filled the house with the rich aroma of herbs and red wine…but he still wasn’t home to eat it.

Where the hell was he? He hadn’t mentioned any client meetings tonight. She glanced at her watch again and sighed.

She wandered across the kitchen, terra cotta tiles cool beneath her bare feet, and stood at the sliding glass doors onto the deck. She stared at the Pacific Ocean. Evening sun glinted off the waves, whitecaps dotting the intense stretch of azure from foamy shore to hazy horizon.

The time when she needed him, when they should be together, bolstering each other, reassuring each other, Derek had done another vanishing act. Poof. Krissa swallowed painfully and leaned her forehead against cool, smooth glass. She needed him. Needed to know he was okay. Needed to know they were okay.

The phone rang.

She turned and ran for it, almost tripping over the table. “Derek?”

“Uh…no. It’s Nate.”

Krissa blinked. “Nate.”

“Yeah. I gather Derek’s not there?”

“Um, no.” Her mind was spinning. Nate…omigod. She’d completely forgotten Nate was arriving tonight.

“He was supposed to pick me up at the airport,” Nate continued, amusement coloring his voice. “Where the hell is he?”

“I wish I knew.” Her heart thudded slowly in her chest. “I’m sorry, Nate. I was expecting him home for dinner and he hasn’t shown up yet. I completely forgot about you.”

“Well. Thanks so much.”

“No…I’m sorry. I just…” What to tell him? Her mind was a big empty space, full of nothing but pain, longing and fear, with no room for remembering details of daily life like Derek’s old friend arriving to stay with them.

“I’ve been calling his cell phone and he’s not answering,” she told Nate. “He must have forgotten, too.”

“Nice.” Now a touch of annoyance edged his voice.

“I’m really sorry. Look, I’ll come get you. It’ll take me twenty minutes to get there.”

“Okay.” Now he sounded really annoyed. Shit.

She turned off the oven. The potatoes would be mush by the time they ate them. Oh well. She grabbed her keys and purse and hurried out to her car.

How could they have forgotten about Nate arriving tonight? She hadn’t been happy he was coming to stay with them. Not the way things were. Their life was in turmoil, and now, after getting the news from Dr. Edgar, they didn’t need another person hanging around their house.

How were they supposed to talk things out with Nate there?

How were they supposed to talk things out when Derek didn’t even bother to come home?

As she sped along the 101 from Montecito through Santa Barbara she stared straight ahead, throat tight.

But Nate had problems of his own, and when he’d called last week to see if he could stay with them, Derek couldn’t say no. Nate was his best friend. They hadn’t seen him for almost two years. Two years since tragedy had demolished Nate’s own life. The memory of that squeezed Krissa’s heart.

She pulled up in front of the small airport terminal, eyes searching for him. Her gaze skimmed over a tall man sitting on a suitcase, then went back to him. It was Nate. He looked…thinner. Those dark wraparound sunglasses disguised him, but she’d always know him. He still had an athlete’s body, his shoulders wide and muscled, his legs long and lean in faded jeans. His brown hair was longer, more tousled than it had been two years ago.

When he turned her way, she lifted a hand. He stood and grabbed his bags, one of which no doubt carried all his camera equipment. Krissa popped the trunk of the BMW, then hopped out to see if he needed help.

“Nate.” She walked up to him and opened her arms for a hug. He hesitated, then pulled her against him. “I’m so sorry we forgot about you,” she murmured into his chest. “It’s a long story.”

Despite having apparently lost some weight, he still felt big and solid. He smelled like warm male, with a faint hint of soap and cinnamon chewing gum. It felt so good to be held, it made Krissa realize how long it had been since she and Derek had hugged like this…just hugged, not for the purpose of having sex or procreating, just to connect and show affection.

“You can tell me later.” Nate’s arms tightened fractionally around her, then released her. Dark glasses hid his eyes and his square jaw with a shadow of beard and straight mouth gave him a grim, hard look.

She forced a smile. “Yeah. How are you?”

“Shitty, thanks.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in a meager smile.

She turned to his bags. “Here, let me…”

“Don’t be silly.” He hefted them as if they were loaves of bread and heaved them into the trunk. He may have been ill, but he was still strong.

Inside the car, Nate clicked his seatbelt into place. “So your husband is MIA?”

“Yes.” She sighed, glanced over her left shoulder and pulled out into traffic. “We…had some bad news today. I think he’s taking it hard.”

“Ah.”

She tensed, waiting for him to ask, dreading having to tell the story, or worse, tell him it was none of his business. But he didn’t ask.

He looked around. “It’s nice to be home.”

“Really?” She shot a sideways glance his way. “I didn’t think you were ever going to come back.”

He stared silently out the side window. “I wasn’t sure if I ever was either.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah. It has.” He nodded. “The funny thing is, I was planning on coming back to the States next month anyway. A gallery in L.A. is having a show of my work.”

“Oh, wow! That’s great, Nate.”

He shrugged. “Not much point in going now.”

“But, you have to go. It’s your show.”

He turned to her, and she felt the intensity of his eyes even though she couldn’t see them. She wished she could. She hated it when she couldn’t see people’s eyes. He shook his head. “I don’t think I can face people like this.”

She licked her lips, unsure what to say. “Maybe you’ll be better by then.”

Again, his shoulders lifted. “Who knows.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“They have no fucking idea.” The harshness in his voice had her shrinking into her seat. “They think I’ll get better, but they don’t know when.”

“Oh, Nate. They would never tell you they think you’ll get better if they weren’t pretty sure.”

“Whatever.” He looked out the side window.

Another man in her life was hurting, dealt a crappy hand in the poker game of life, and she couldn’t make it better, didn’t know how to make him feel better. This one wasn’t even her fault, but she ached for him anyway.

Chapter Two

Where the hell was Derek? And what was the bad news they’d just gotten? Krissa looked like she’d been crying. Were they fighting? Nate’s gut tightened. He didn’t need more shit in his life right now. Maybe coming here had been a big mistake.

He couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. He’d been a loner, a nomad for so long, traveling the globe, taking his pictures. Derek and Krissa had been his best friends, years ago, but he hadn’t been much of a friend in return, taking off, barely taking the time to e-mail them to let them know he was okay.

Ironically, his professional successes had piled one on top of another despite the pain and agony in his personal life. Until now.

Nate watched Krissa drive. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. Her slender arms were bare, muscles shifting under golden skin as she turned the wheel. Her small nose and firm chin created a sweet profile, long lashes fluttering as her eyes moved from the road to the rearview mirror, ahead again.

There was a time when he’d envied Derek. When they’d both met Krissa, and Derek had immediately put the moves on her. If Derek hadn’t…well, that’d been a long time ago.

Krissa drove down a circular street lined with huge Mediterranean-style houses. Nate hadn’t been home since she and Derek had sold their cottage near the beach in Santa Barbara and moved to this Montecito mansion. Derek’s real estate business was apparently doing well—Nate was sure these houses were all easily worth two or three million.

She pulled into a driveway, facing double garage doors. The white stucco house topped with red clay tiles stretched wide on either side of the garage and towered above them.

“Here we are,” she announced.

She led the way into the house, disarmed an alarm system, and Nate followed her into a cool and quiet foyer with a high ceiling. Gleaming hardwood floors stretched in front of them, to the left into the dining room and to the right into the living room. The delicious aroma of red wine and beef teased his sense of smell.

He followed Krissa into a huge open space at the rear of the house, a family room and kitchen, bright and white, with light wood cupboards. A wall of windows stretched across the back of the house, revealing spectacular ocean views.

“Wow.” He set his bags down. He lowered the glasses on his nose to get a better look at the stunning house, but despite the setting sun so much light flooded in he had to push them back up.

Krissa smiled faintly. “We’re still working on it,” she said. “We just moved in six months ago.”

“It’s awesome, Krissa.”

“Thanks. I’ll show you your room.”

She led the way upstairs, down a hall, past one, two…Christ, how many bedrooms? At least four. Maybe five. “Here you go.” She stood aside to let him enter the last room on the right. “Oh. Let me get the blinds.”

She crossed the room, and lowered the room-darkening shades on the window, submerging them in darkness. She bent down on flicked on the lamp beside the bed. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, slowly removed his glasses. His eyes were drawn to Krissa, standing there in a tiny pair of white shorts and pink tank top. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold. Her glossy dark hair hung around her shoulders and down her back, and even in the soft light he could see the sparkle in her green eyes.

“This is fine, Kris. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you.”

“Of course not.” But he could tell she wasn’t being completely honest with him. Something was going on. “We’re happy to have you and I’m glad you called us. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Right.”

“Are you hungry? I had dinner all ready, but…” Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“I’m starving,” he lied. “And something smells really good.”

“Beef bourguignon. It’s Derek’s favorite.” Her voice caught as she crossed the room. Nate still stood in the door, so he stepped inside to move out of her way. Their bodies brushed together. “Sorry.”

She flicked her eyes at him, then away. “You can wash up if you like, your bathroom is right there.” She nodded at the door on one wall. “I’ll go get dinner. Come on down to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

He watched her leave, long, sleek bare legs, her cute little ass moving under the white shorts. Whoa. He should not be looking at Derek’s wife like that. Strangely, he hadn’t looked at any woman like that for a long time.

There had been women. He’d had sex. Mindless, physical release. He got horny, he found someone. It was never difficult. The only difficult part was making the women understand he wasn’t interested in anything more than a quick fuck.

Why had Derek pulled a disappearing act? Krissa seemed so upset, although she was trying to hide it. You’d think if they’d gotten some kind of bad news Derek would want to be home with her. Or was there something else going on? Derek better not be screwing around on Krissa. He’d kick his ass if he was.

He used the bathroom, didn’t bother to change out of the worn jeans he’d traveled in from Costa Rica, but did put on a clean T-shirt. Then he found his way back to the kitchen where Krissa was lifting the lid on a steaming pot.

“Hi,” she said. “Everything’s ready. I’m afraid the potatoes are overdone. They were supposed to have been eaten a couple of hours ago.”

“Did you try Derek’s cell phone again?” He sat down on a stool at the long granite counter.

“No.” She dished up plates for them and slid his across the counter to him. “What can I get you to drink? Beer? Cola? Juice?”

“I’d love a beer.”

She went to the big stainless-steel refrigerator with double doors and retrieved a beer for him. After what appeared to be a second thought, she pulled another out for herself.

He nodded, speared a piece of meat with his fork. It melted on his tongue, the tang of spices and red wine exploding against his taste buds. “Wow, this is good, Krissa.” He took another bite.

“Thanks.”

He hadn’t had much appetite since he’d been sick. He’d lost a shitload of weight, and although he’d gained some back, and had been working out to try to regain some muscle, he hadn’t been interested in food. But this was fabulous.

“You’re a great cook.”

She smiled. “I like cooking for people.”

“Perfect. I like eating.” Well, it used to be the truth.

“You look like you lost weight.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t eat for a few weeks. I was on an IV for a while.”

“Oh God.” Her green eyes were full of sympathy. “The hospital in Costa Rica…was it okay?”

“Yeah. It was a decent place in San José.”

“I’m glad you came here to recover.”

“I don’t want to get in your way.”

Their eyes met across the counter. Her smile trembled.

“What’s going on, Krissa?”

Krissa lowered her eyes and pushed food around on her plate with her fork. “I think Derek should tell you.”

He was screwing around, the asshole. Nate gritted his teeth.

“Let’s talk about you,” Krissa said, fake cheerfulness in her tone. “Your photographs have been doing great.”

“Yeah.” His success still amazed him. “After I made that first big sale, things just took off.”

“I hear they’re selling for ten thousand dollars.”

He laughed. “Yeah, now they are. But remember? I sold my first one for two hundred dollars.”

“And didn’t you win an award last year?”

“Fine Art photographer of the Year at the International Fine Art Competition in Tokyo.” He made a face.

“Wow. You’ve come a long way from renting bikes on the beach and selling your photographs at the Sunday Arts and Crafts Show.”

“Yeah. Those were fun times, though.”

She tipped her head. “You were never totally satisfied being a beach bum.”

He nodded, realized he’d almost cleaned his plate. That was the first time that had happened in quite a while.

“Would you like more?” She motioned to his empty plate.

He hesitated. “Sure.” What did he care if Krissa thought he was a pig?

But she seemed pleased as she took his plate and filled it again.

“I heard you also got a book deal.”

His gut clenched. He stared down at the plate, appetite suddenly gone again. “Yeah. Had a book deal. I can’t do it now.”

She slid onto her stool, eyes watching him. “Because of your eyes?”

“Yeah.” His throat tightened. “They gave me a deadline. I couldn’t do it now even if my eyes were better tomorrow.” He picked up his fork.

“I’m sure they would make another offer. Once you’re better. If they wanted you to do a book before, they’ll still want you in a few months.”

“Maybe.” If his eyes got better.

“Tell me what happened.” Her voice was soft, and the caring in it squeezed his chest. “Derek didn’t know much.”

“I was shooting in Costa Rica. I ate some bad fish and got food poisoning. Botulism. I was lucky, because one of the guys I was with was a doctor and he knew immediately what it was. He had it, too. So we both got treatment right away, thank God. But for some reason, one of the side effects is this goddamn light sensitivity.” He shook his head. “It’s apparently a pretty rare side effect, the doctors down there had to look it up on the Internet. And of course, it didn’t affect Mike. Just me.” Bitterness burned inside him. It was the worst fucking thing that could happen to a photographer.

“But you can see?”

“Yeah, I can see, but I can’t take off these damn glasses except inside with the curtains drawn. Makes it pretty hard to take pictures.” It was like constantly looking at everything through a neutral density filter.

“Oh, Nate.” She looked at him with distressed eyes. “It must have been awful. Botulism can be fatal, can’t it?”

“It can be, especially if it’s not treated right away. Often, they don’t realize what’s wrong until it’s too late, so, like I said, I was lucky.”

He grimaced, ate some beef, not wanting to offend Krissa by turning away the food she’d just served him.

He looked up at her. “Derek said you’ve started your own business.”

“That’s right. Consulting. I am now Inspired Solutions.”

“So have you finally found what you want to do?”

She met his eyes—although she probably couldn’t see his behind the damn glasses—and smiled faintly. “I think so.”

“Took you long enough.”

Krissa’s job hopping had been a source of teasing since he’d met her. In her ten years since college, she’d probably worked for ten different companies, ranging from a brewery to a pharmaceutical manufacturer to an insurance company. There was always something wrong with every place she worked, yet her employers always loved her and she never had trouble finding another job.

She laughed. “I know, I know. Luckily Derek’s been doing well, so we could afford for me not to have steady income coming in. But as it turns out, I’ve been really busy.”

“All those companies you worked for probably hire you. They want you back.”

She grinned. “Actually, that’s true. A lot of my clients are former employers. Hey, I know what they need.”

“Good for you.”

“I love it. I don’t have people bossing me around. I get to tell them what to do, and if they don’t listen to me—no problem. I don’t have to work there but I still get the money. It’s perfect.”

“So what do you do for them?”

“Mostly human resource issues—employee rewards and incentive programs, talent acquisition and management, employee health plans. One of my clients is in the process of merging with another company so I’m helping them blend the two cultures. I help companies survey employees about attitudes, satisfaction, engagement and other employee behaviors, and then come up with a plan to deal with whatever issues come to light. I also do retirement counseling. Lots of different things.”

Her passion for her work lit up her troubled eyes and animated her, and she sounded so knowledgeable. She was a smart girl, he’d always known that, despite his teasing. He smiled and a glimmer of pride warmed him inside.

After dinner, they sat on the couch in the family room adjoining the kitchen. The glow of the fire provided just enough illumination, casting flickering lights and shadows over them. Krissa pulled her bare feet up under her on the ivory leather sofa, and clutched a brightly-patterned cushion on her lap.

Then his attention was caught by something behind her—one of his photographs, beautifully framed and hanging on the wall in their family room. He’d taken it in Japan, a black-and-white seascape with his trademark water-smoothing long exposure, the rocky outcrop a jagged black outline against silvery ocean. Huh.

“So are you…is there someone in your life? A girlfriend?”

Her words dragged his attention back to Krissa. Firelight painted her skin with a golden glow, flickered in her eyes. “No.”

“Nobody?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Do you still miss Lauren? It’s hard to get over something like that.”

His jaw tightened. “There’s nothing to get over.”

Her eyes went wide. “What? How can you say that?”

“I’m okay, Krissa.” He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it. Thinking about Lauren was pointless, made him remember all the grief, betrayal, uncertainty and anger. Things he’d never expressed to another living soul. Because no one else knew the truth about Lauren’s death. It was much better to just keep those emotions out of his life. He’d done fine without them the last two years.

Tears glimmered on her face. Ah, shit. “Don’t cry, Kris, really, I’m okay.”

“But I’m not.”