Текст книги "Lost and Found"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Three

Oh, why had she said that? The words had emerged shaky and pathetic from her mouth. She wanted to talk about it, wished it was Derek sitting there so they could get this out in the open and deal with it. She could talk to Nate about it. But what if Derek didn’t want Nate to know?

It wasn’t a failure on Derek’s part, but he’d see it that way. It shouldn’t be humiliating, but she knew Derek felt it was.

They should have been prepared for the news Dr. Edgar had given them. Lord knows, they’d had enough time to think about it, worry about it. Hearing it should not have been such a shock.

But having your worst fears confirmed was always a shock.

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Derek. I wish I knew where he was.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah.” She’d been carrying such a load of guilt around for so long. Their problems were all her fault. Derek made that pretty clear to her every damn day. Maybe that’s why this was so difficult for him. Maybe he’d never really believed the problem could be his, not hers. Maybe he was never coming back.

She put her hands over her face.

“Hey, hey.” The couch dipped beneath her as Nate moved toward her, then his arm went around her shoulders and he pulled her into him. His arms were stiff and awkward, as if he hadn’t done such a thing for a long time.

She pressed her face to his chest, inhaling the scent of his cotton T-shirt and warm musky male. His body relaxed a little, and his arms around her felt strong and comforting. One hand cupped the back of her head, then stroked down over her hair. The tenderness of the gesture caused more tears to flood her eyes. She sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what it is, but if Nate’s done anything to hurt you, I swear I’ll kill the son of a bitch.” Nate’s fierce defense of her made something inside her expand and burst. She tried to restrain the sobs, but ended up blubbering in Nate’s arms.

He held her, pressed her head to his chest and let her cry her heart out. All the tension, the worry, the fear built up in her over the last few months coalesced into a shirt-soaking deluge of tears.

“He hasn’t done anything,” she sobbed.

“Okay.”

His hand stroked her hair, slowly, mesmerizingly, soothing her ragged nerves until her sobbing eased, leaving her quivering and hiccupping for breath.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled into his chest. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured. “It’s okay, bunny.”

The old nickname, coming from all her job hopping, touched something deep inside her, deep and warm. He continued to stroke her hair and rub his hand up and down her back. She became aware that the thin cotton of her tank top was a flimsy barrier between her skin and Nate’s warm hand. But it felt so good, so comforting.

“I’ll wait up with you for him,” he murmured, and he pressed his face against the top of her head.

“Thank you.”

They stayed like that, and she took solace in his embrace. They talked about inconsequential things—the house, the weather, mutual friends—while the flickering fire cast a spell and emotional exhaustion took its toll. Krissa fell asleep in Nate’s arms.

A crashing woke her up.

Krissa lifted her head. Where was she? A man’s hard body was beneath her, his strong arms around her. What was that noise?

Some scuffling, another bang and then Derek’s slurred voice from across the room. “Hey. What’sh going on here?”

If that was Derek standing in the kitchen, who was…oh, yeah. Nate. Krissa struggled to sit up, pushing her hair out of her face, while Nate released her and rubbed his eyes.

“Derek.” She sat on the couch, hands on the cushion on either side of her hips as she leaned forward, struggled to focus on him in the dark. “Where were you?”

His shirt was rumpled, tie gone, collar unbuttoned. His suit jacket lay on the floor in a heap with his shoes. His blond hair stood up and he stared at them with blurry eyes.

He took two unsteady steps forward. His brows drew together. “Nate?”

“Yeah, Nate.” Gathering her sleepy wits, she stood up. “You’re drunk, you idiot. Nate is here, remember? You were supposed to pick him up at the airport?”

Derek stared in confusion at his old friend. Nate pushed a hand through his hair and stood up, too. “Hey, man. Good to see you.”

Nate moved over to Derek to give him a masculine hug and slap on the back. Derek returned it but still seemed disoriented. “I forgot you were coming, bud.”

“Yeah, you and Krissa both. Good to know I’m so memorable.”

Derek swayed on his feet.

“Looks like you’ve been having a good time.” Nate’s voice hardened. “Have a seat, man.”

He pushed Derek down to the couch and he went down easily, almost falling.

Krissa wrapped her arms around herself. The room was very warm from the fireplace that had been going for the last few hours, but a chill stroked over her skin. She glanced at her watch. “Derek, it’s two in the morning, for God’s sake. Where the hell have you been?”

He gazed back at her bleary-eyed, sadness not obliterated by intoxication. “I’m sorry, Krissa.”

She rolled her lips in, sank her teeth into the top lip. She closed her eyes, and turned away, her chest tightening.

“Sorry to you too, Nate,” Derek said. “I totally forgot.” He sighed.

“Don’t worry about me,” Nate said. “But Krissa was worried about you, man. Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning. When you’re sober.”

Derek scrubbed his hands over his face, sagged back into the couch, and blinked at them. “You’re right. I’m an asshole.” He focused on Krissa. “Sorry I didn’t call, baby.”

She shook her head, trying to keep her anger going in the face of his apology. He was not going to get off that easy, this time.

Nate looked at Krissa. “Want me to help get him to bed?”

“I can get to bed.” Derek stood, wavering.

“Sure, buddy. Come on.” Without waiting for Krissa, Nate led Derek up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Krista followed. “My assistance stops at helping you undress,” he told Derek, his mouth quirking at the corners.

“I’ll do that,” Krissa said.

Their eyes met. “Okay. Good night, Krissa.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Her voice was low. He disappeared, shutting their bedroom door behind him.

Krissa turned. Derek had fallen onto the bed, asleep. Or passed out more likely, still fully clothed.

She went into the adjoining bathroom, the brightness of the light stinging her eyes when she turned it on. She stared at herself in the mirror that covered one wall. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes swollen from crying, mascara smeared under them. Oh lord, she looked atrocious. Derek hadn’t likely noticed in the condition he was in, but Nate probably had. Then again, they’d been in the dark.

She brushed her teeth and washed her face, changed into the nightie hanging on the back of the door. She flicked off the light and returned to the bedroom.

The rumble of Derek’s snoring and the odor of alcohol, cigarettes and perfume that wasn’t hers permeated the room. Krissa stared at him, lips pressed together, her stomach in a tight knot. Then she left their bedroom, shutting the door behind her and went to sleep in one of the other rooms.

He’d walked into quite the mess.

Maybe it had been a bad decision coming to stay with Krissa and Derek. Things seemed to be a tad unsettled.

Nate stood in the shower in the bathroom attached to his room. Derek and Krissa had moved into a big enough house, considering there was just the two of them. It worked out well for him. He had his own little suite here, with a huge bedroom and attached bath. In a house this size, he could stay out of their way and they’d never have to know he was there. Probably a good thing, especially considering the discussion they were likely to be having this morning.

That was putting it mildly. Derek was out getting hammered while Krissa cried her eyes out at home. Uh, yeah, just your typical marriage.

What the hell did he know about typical marriages? He’d thought his own marriage was perfect. What a fucking idiot he’d been. Ah, well. That’d been a long time ago. Another life.

The only good thing about this upheaval was, it had taken his mind off his own problems.

He grinned as he scrubbed shampoo into his hair. He didn’t envy Derek right then. The guy was going to be majorly hungover and Krissa was going to be pissed beyond belief. He was surprised he didn’t hear the yelling all the way into the shower.

When Nate was dressed he followed the smell of rich coffee down the hall. Someone was up. As he passed by a bedroom he noticed through the open door the bed with the covers turned back and rumpled as though someone had slept there.

Had Krissa spent the night in a bed apart from her husband?

Kinda looked like it.

Krissa sat in the kitchen at the counter, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Sunlight streamed in through all the windows and Nate slid on his sunglasses, his eyes burning. Damn it.

“Hey,” he said. “I smell coffee.”

She looked up at him, eyes wary and guarded. Even with shadowed green eyes and a soft, sad mouth, her beauty tugged at something inside him. She wore no makeup and he could see the faint sprinkling of freckles across the fair skin of her nose and cheeks.

She slid off the stool. “I’ll get you some.”

Nate held up a hand. “No, I’ll get it. You don’t need to wait on me. Just point me in the direction of a cup.”

“In the cupboard right above the dishwasher.” She sat down again.

He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Derek already gone?”

She snorted. “He’s still sleeping.” She shook her head, dark hair sliding over her shoulders in a silky curtain.

“Ah.” Nate sipped the coffee and sat, too. “I guess when you’re self-employed you can do that.”

“He could be missing appointments, I don’t know.” The corners of Krissa’s mouth turned down. “But if he is, he’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Yup.” Silence expanded in the bright kitchen.

“I’m sorry you walked into this,” Krissa said finally. “You’re probably wondering what’s going on.”

Hell, yeah. But he wasn’t going to pry. Derek was his best buddy, and he’d always liked and respected Krissa. If they were having problems, that was their business. Best to just stay out of it.

“Things have been a little stressful lately,” she continued, and her top teeth sank into her lush lower lip. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t need this when you have problems of your own to deal with.”

He shrugged, sipped his coffee. Its heat stung, and he held the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I guess I picked a bad time to barge in on you. You probably don’t need someone else hanging around right now.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I know Derek wanted you to come here too, to recover. We’d do anything to help you, you know that.”

“What about you?”

Her dark brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Is there anything I can do to help you guys?”

Their eyes met and held. He shifted on his stool. Felt exposed.

“No,” Krissa said at last. Her eyes dropped. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Okay. Just remember, though. Anything. You two are my best friends.”

“I know.” He watched pain and sorrow shift across her face.

“You’re both up already?”

They both turned at the sound of Derek’s raspy voice in the door of the kitchen. He was dressed in a pair of boxer shorts riding low on his hipbones. His blond hair stuck up in all directions and he rubbed his face as he yawned.

“Already? It’s nine-thirty,” Krissa said. “You’re usually at the office by seven.” She slipped off her stool and went over to the coffeemaker. She poured a cup and walked to Derek, handed it to him.

Their eyes met as he accepted the mug from her. Nate watched the two of them as they communicated wordlessly. Derek slid his hand around the back of Krissa’s neck, under her hair, and pulled her toward him. Slowly, she pressed her face into the side of his neck and Derek laid his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. They stood that way for a long moment.

Nate wanted to look away. But his eyes remained fastened on them. The intimacy of the moment made something clench down low inside him.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispered. Krissa drew back, nodded and stepped away. Her glance skittered over to Nate, then away.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, and disappeared.

Nate studied everything in the kitchen while Derek set his coffee on the counter and took a seat on a stool.

“Where were you last night?”

Derek sighed. “Out getting wasted. Wasn’t it obvious?”

“It was obvious you smelled like perfume when you walked in. Perfume and the stink of booze.” Nate squinted at his friend from behind the dark glasses. “Were you with another woman?”

Chapter Four

“Jesus, Nate. What kind of question is that?” Derek rubbed his face.

“It’s a good question. Answer it.”

Derek shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I wasn’t.”

An unfamiliar tension stretched between them. Derek looked down at his coffee. “Not my business,” Nate finally said. “Krissa’s the one you have to answer to. And thanks again for not picking me up at the airport last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek looked like someone was stabbing pins in his eyes. “I completely forgot.”

“I know. What the hell’s going on with you?”

“Fuck.” Derek gulped some coffee. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Nate shrugged. “Okay. Let me know if you do. I’m going to…uh…go for a walk.”

Too bad it was such a sunny day. Even with his sunglasses, his eyes would be watering and burning after ten minutes. But what else did he have to do?

He rose to his feet and refilled his coffee mug, took it with him as he left the kitchen through the sliding doors. A multi-level deck backed the house, overlooking the beach and the ocean, a hot tub on one side and comfortable wicker furniture arranged in a cozy grouping on the other. Yeah, this was quite the house.

He jogged down the wooden stairs to the beach. Rocks of all sizes, washed smooth by ocean waves, dotted the pale sand, and he meandered along until he found a wide flat boulder to sit on. He cupped his coffee mug in both hands, warm beneath his fingers, cool ocean breeze floating around him, and stared out at the Pacific Ocean. The water swelled, rose, curled and crashed into a froth of white, over and over again, the rhythmic sound and ceaseless motion mesmerizing. Seagulls cried overhead, soaring in the clear blue sky.

This was pretty awkward. He’d appreciated the offer of a place to stay while he finished recovering from his food poisoning, had actually been happy to be seeing his friends again after being away for so long. He hadn’t expected to walk into some kind of marital turmoil.

He supposed he could have gone to stay with one of his two brothers, or even his parents, in Los Angeles. But he’d pretty much cut himself off from them after his life had disintegrated. He’d cut himself off from everyone, and calling Derek had seemed the easiest choice.

He’d just have to stay out of their way and hope that his goddamn eyes got better pretty fucking quick.

Krissa rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, then reached for the tap of the shower. She cranked it off, opened the shower door and put out a hand for her towel. Derek stood there, leaning against the vanity, towel in his outstretched hand.

He still hadn’t dressed, and despite her anger and sorrow, and despite his obvious hangover, his muscular chest, smooth and tanned, made her want to touch, and the low-riding boxers drew her eyes to the V-shaped muscles tapering down beneath them. His eyes were shadowed, his face lined with fatigue.

Krissa took the towel and dried off, aware of Derek watching her. Her pussy clenched and her nipples tingled. She wrapped the towel around her, tucked the end in to hold it in place.

Water dripped from her long hair onto her bare shoulders, soaked into the thick towel as they looked at each other.

“I know you were hurting yesterday,” Krissa finally said. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.”

“I know. I said I’m sorry.”

“You could have at least told me you were going out.”

“I know. I screwed up, okay?”

She continued to watch him. His eyes, dark with pain, met her.

“Did you tell Nate?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded.

“Were you with someone?”

He shook his head slowly. “No.”

“I smelled perfume on your suit. Not my perfume.”

“There were women in the bar. I smelled like cigarettes, too, but I wasn’t smoking.”

She nodded. A couple of years ago, they’d had this same conversation. But he’d emphatically denied it, and she’d had no reason to disbelieve him—okay, the truth was, she didn’t want to disbelieve him—so she’d let it go. She didn’t like fighting with him, and nothing else had ever happened, so she must have been wrong.

She didn’t like the suspicion eating at her insides, the fear and worry.

“I love you, Krissa.” He held her gaze.

“I love you too.”

He reached for her, drew her to him with his hands on her waist. She let him pull her closer, rested her pelvis against his as they leaned against the vanity. She stroked her fingers through his hair, trying to tame the wild spikes.

Derek’s fingers moved to where the towel was tucked into itself above her left breast and tugged it out. He let the towel fall open and then to the floor. His hands returned to her waist.

Krissa pushed the towel aside with her bare foot and leaned in to kiss her husband. Their mouths met and clung. Derek tasted of minty toothpaste and coffee, still smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. She laid her hands on his shoulders, satiny skin over firm muscle and hard bones, let her fingers curl into him.

They kissed again, and again, Derek’s hands sliding lower to her ass, pulling her against him, his growing erection nudging her tummy. She went onto her toes to rub him there, needed to feel him between her legs where she began to ache.

“I love you,” he whispered, his mouth still touching hers. “I’m sorry, Krissa.”

“I’m sorry too.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaned her forehead against his.

“I feel like such a failure.”

“Don’t. Please, don’t. You’re not a failure. We’ll get through this.”

He swallowed hard, then lifted her by her ass. She wrapped her legs around him, feet resting on the cool marble vanity, and he slid a hand between their bodies, found her center and stroked through her wetness. Hot and achy, she let out a moan.

“I’m still a man,” he said, shoving at his underwear until his penis sprang out, hard and thick.

“I know.” Her head fell back. She wrapped her arms around his head and he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked, hard. Hot delight flashed through her. “I…know.” He pushed into her, filling her. He grunted and she gasped. “Yes.” She lifted her hips, tried to open more for him, let his cock surge into her, so deep it almost hurt. Involuntarily she lifted, and he thrust again, harder. “Oh, God!”

He drove into her, and she rubbed her swollen clit against his pubic bone on each push, driving her higher, the pleasure spiraling inside her, higher. She held on tighter, focused on their image in the mirror behind Derek, blurred by steam. She could make out the bulge of Derek’s biceps as he held her up, the ridges of muscles down either side of his smooth, tanned back, her hands gripping him. She squeezed her eyes shut. Water dripped down her naked back, making his hands slide on her body as he pumped into her.

He turned, sat her on the vanity, the marble cold beneath the warm flesh of her ass, his hands on her hips.

“Krissa, Christ, Krissa.” He kissed her nipples, hard and pointy and aching, and she peaked in a delicious spasm, arms and legs tightening on him. Then he went over, too, holding her against him as he pulsed inside her in hot jets.

Her legs shook as he lowered her to the floor, the terry bath mat soft beneath her soles. She draped her arms over his shoulder and rested her face against him, both of them breathing hard. When she opened her eyes, she met her own eyes in the foggy side mirror, saw the flush on her cheeks, the heaviness of her eyelids.

“We need to talk,” she said.

He let of a long breath. “Yeah.”

“But now Nate’s staying with us.”

“Yeah.”

“I felt humiliated last night, in front of him.”

His body tightened. “Jesus, how many times do I have to say it? I’m sorry!”

He set her away from him with his hands on her waist. She sucked in air, bent over to pick up the towel. He yanked his boxers up over his penis, still half hard and wet with her cream and his semen.

“I have to get to the office,” he muttered and she watched as he threw open the bathroom door and strode out.

Krissa leaned her hands on the edge of the counter, looked at herself in the mirror. Her body still pulsed from her orgasm but her heart hurt. He felt like a failure. Like less of a man. She had to remember how this was impacting him, needed to understand. But her own aching heart made it difficult.

She felt bad leaving Nate all alone in the family room watching television through dark glasses after they’d eaten dinner. But she and Derek had to talk. This was their life and they’d barely said ten words to each other since the doctor had delivered the devastating news.

Krissa closed the door of her office, actually the fifth bedroom of their home. She sat at the chair in front of her desk, and Derek slumped on the futon against one wall.

He’d changed into cargo shorts and a T-shirt after arriving home from work. They’d eaten dinner and he and Nate were going to go out for a beer after this little “talk”.

“Tell me what’s going on with you,” Krissa said. She leaned on one arm of the chair, studied his face.

Derek groaned. “God, Krissa. What the hell do you think? I was just told I’ll never father a child.” He covered his eyes with one hand.

“There are other ways to father a child,” she said quietly.

He didn’t move, didn’t say a word for a long moment heavy with tension.

“Not for me.”

She blinked, sat up straight. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to adopt. I know we talked about the possibility, but the truth is…I don’t want to raise someone else’s child.”

“But…if we adopted a baby…it would be ours. You’d love it as much as if it were our own.”

“No.” He lowered his hand and met her eyes. “I don’t think I would.” He paused as if searching for words. “I don’t think I could.”

Krissa’s heart contracted painfully. How could he say that? They’d talked about adopting and he’d sounded as if he was open to it. She rolled her lips in to keep them from quivering.

“Then we can try artificial insemination.”

Derek’s head moved slowly from side to side. “No. I don’t want to do that either.”

“What!” She jumped out of the chair and stood there, hands clasped tightly, staring at him. “But Derek…that’s our last hope.”

“It’d be the same thing…I’d be raising someone else’s child.”

“It would be my child! You’re my husband, so it would be your child. I don’t understand.” Thoughts skipped frantically around in her head. “Derek, we can pick the donor based on physical characteristics. We can choose someone who’s tall and blond and brown eyed, like you.”

His face tightened and his gaze slid away from her. “It would be someone else’s sperm. A stranger. His genes, not mine. I’m sorry, Krissa.” His voice cracked. “I just can’t do it.”

“But…that means…” She couldn’t get the words past the aching constriction in her throat. She squeezed her hands into fists at her side. “Derek.” Hot liquid slid down her cheeks.

“I know.” Agony tore at his voice. “I know, Krissa. But I’m being honest here. I’d rather have no children than adopt or use a stranger’s sperm.”

She gazed at him, his face wavering in her tear-filled vision. He couldn’t be serious. This couldn’t be the end. They still had options.

She could convince him. She moved across to him on stiff legs, sat beside him and put her hand on his bare knee. “Derek,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“Christ, Krissa, you always have to make things so complicated. Don’t make this worse than it is.”

She flinched, looked down at her hand on his knee and drew it away.

“This has been hard enough,” Derek snapped. “All these years of trying…of failing…and now knowing I’m the cause.”

Krissa pulled in a long breath, sat with her head bowed. It was him. She had to think of him. She lifted her head, pushed her hair back and put a hand on his cheek. He covered it with his own, held it there, closed his eyes. “I just want this to be over,” he whispered raggedly.

She swallowed. “But I don’t.”

He opened his eyes and they shared a long look. She saw her pain mirrored in his dark eyes, etched on his face in the grooves beside his mouth.

“I need to have a baby,” she choked out. “It’s all I want, Derek.”

“More than you want me?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you…saying I have to choose?”