Текст книги "Busted"

Chapter Fourteen

The rush of emotion that slammed into him was too intense to define.

Especially in that moment.

Ressa Bliss was kneeling in the doorway, one arm draped around his son, and the sight of the two of them was like a punch straight to the solar plexus.

As he stood there, Clayton blinked and seemed to focus on Ressa. “Miss Ressa?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong, sugar?” she asked.

He just shook his head, and threw his arms around her neck, clinging to her.

“Clayton.”

Clayton wordlessly shook his head.

The image of his son, clinging to Ressa, imprinted itself on his memory, an afterimage that lingered even when he paused and closed his eyes for a span of a few seconds to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.

When he opened his eyes, she was still there and she’d shifted her attention from Clayton to him. She lowered her lashes and then looked back at him, and when she did, the surprise was replaced by the sort of pleasant blankness he’d expect from a stranger.

Okay, not liking that, he decided.

But he’d deal with it later.

People were trying to squeeze in around them as they huddled in the doorway.

Ressa noticed as well, and she stood, boosting Clayton up. Then she held out a hand to the child with her and eased back out into the hall.

The little girl watched it all with wide, pale gold eyes that took in everything around her.

He tried to puzzle that one out—was the girl her daughter? Some vague memory of Ressa mentioning a little girl worked free and the puzzle was solved a minute later as the girl leaned her head against Ressa’s hip—he envied her for a minute there. She asked, “Ress, what’s wrong with him?” She went to poke her thumb in her mouth.

Deftly, Ressa caught her wrist. “Remember that talk about germs, Neeci,” she said, her voice absent.

She met Trey’s gaze steadily, but she wasn’t as steady as she pretended to be.

“Here,” he said, his voice gruff.

She passed Clayton over, although the boy clung tight to her neck. Once he had Clayton in his arms, the boy did the same thing to Trey that he’d been doing to Ressa, clutching tight in a child’s version of a stranglehold, his face in Trey’s neck.

Trey blew out a sigh, bringing his hand up to cup the back of the boy’s head. Turning away, he asked quietly, “What’s up there, man?”

Off to the side, he could hear Ressa talking in a low voice, while the girl started on an endless tirade of questions.

Tuning them out, he rubbed his cheek against Clayton’s head, still waiting. “Come on, Clay. Talk to me.”

“They have their moms. Everybody.” His voice was watery now and when he spoke again, he was louder, his response perilously close to a sob. “They all have their mommy with them, but I don’t!”

Trey felt his heart crack, right down the middle.

But before he could find any way to answer, a soft voice said, “I don’t.”

Clayton stopped in mid-sniff. Head now tucked against Trey’s chest, he shifted around until he could see the girl. From the corner of his eye, he watched Ressa rise, resting a protective hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“You don’t have your mommy here?” Clayton asked, his voice just above a whisper.

The girl had old eyes, Trey thought. And when she spoke, her voice held the edge of an anger that didn’t suit that delicate face or her youth. The girl slid Ressa a look, caught between defiance and a child’s hurt. He found himself wanting to hug her close, stroke away some of the hurt he sensed behind the anger.

“No. She’s . . .” She stopped, her words trailing off.

“Gone.” The hand Ressa had placed on the girl’s shoulder tightened gently. Ressa looked at Trey for a quiet moment before shifting her attention to the boy. “Neeci doesn’t have her mama here either, sweetheart. She knows how hard it can be. Maybe the two of you can hang out. It’s easier, I bet, with a friend.”

Clayton eased back from Trey’s chest, stared at the girl curiously. “You’re a girl.”

Neeci blinked. “And you are a boy.” Then she folded her arms over her chest. “I run fast.”

“I bet I run faster.” Tears momentarily forgotten, Clayton wiggled until Trey put him down. Standing in front of Neeci, he rocked back and forth on his heels. “I don’t like dolls and stuff.”

“Neither do I.” Neeci rolled her eyes, a look that was far too grown up considering how young she had to be. Then she smiled. “I’m Neeci.”

A few moments later, the two of them were inside the classroom and Trey breathed out a sigh of relief as the band around his chest loosened. None of the kids had seemed to notice.

Painfully aware of the woman who was taking great pains to avoid him, he spoke with Clayton’s kindergarten teacher—Mr. Boyd Franklin. Round cheeked and a little thick around the middle, he looked to be in his late twenties, and he’d already introduced himself to most of the parents and most of the kids, taking care to chat, even if it was only for a moment.

He noticed things, something Trey could appreciate.

He’d definitely noticed Clayton’s momentary panic.

“How long ago did his mother die?”

Trey folded his arms over his chest, watching as Clayton and Neeci giggled over one of the books he’d found on a bookshelf. “It’s . . . complicated,” he finally said. “But Clayton never had the chance to know her. Being around the other kids, their moms . . . it’s going to be hard for him, I think.”

“That’s rough.” Boyd didn’t offer any empty sympathy, just stood there in silence and then, after a moment, he smiled. “It looks like he’s made a friend already.”

It did, indeed.

Trey gave it a few more moments and then broke away, cutting through the sea of backpacks, desks and small bodies to crouch by his son. Better to leave now while there was still chaos, he figured. Clayton would be so busy he would barely notice anything else.

“I’m going to head on home, big guy,” he murmured when there was a break in the conversation. One that involved bugs . . . and bug guts, he noted with some revolted amusement.

Clayton whirled around. “But . . .” His mouth opened, closed. Then, small shoulders drooping, he reached out and touched his father’s cheek. “What are you going to do all day? Aren’t you going to be lonely without me?”

“Very.” He caught Clayton’s nose and pinched it lightly. “But I’ll be okay. You have to do this kindergarten thing so you can go to college next week and be an astronaut by Christmas.”

Clayton grinned. “It takes longer than that, Dad.”

“Oh. Well, you still have to get started.” Leaning in, he pressed a quick kiss to Clayton’s brow. His heart squeezed and memories from six years raced through his mind.

Slowly, he pushed to his feet and forced himself to smile. “Do me a favor,” he said. He sounded steady—how about that? As Clayton flashed him a curious smile, he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Now I know you want to know everything under the sun, but don’t come home and be smarter than me already. Wait until tomorrow before you do that.”

Clayton laughed and turned back to Neeci. “It will take a lot longer than that, Dad. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that smart.”

He managed to make it out the door.

And that was when he saw that Ressa was loitering there . . . as if she’d been waiting for him.

Half-blind, he kept on walking. He needed to breathe. For just a minute.

*   *   *

Trey left the school like a man possessed and he didn’t even seem aware that she’d followed him, not until he heard the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement.

Slowly, he turned and looked at her.

“Rough day?” she asked softly.

He jerked his head away, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug. “Always heard the first day is harder on the parent than the kid.”

“If that’s the truth, I kinda feel like giving both of you a cookie and a teddy bear.”

Frowning, he swung his gaze back to her.

Because he seemed to need the company, she moved in closer and leaned against the truck next to him. Not close enough to feel his heat, but close enough to wish she could.

“You know, you are the last person I thought I’d see here,” she said quietly.

He slid her a look from the corner of his eye, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that the shadows seemed to lessen from his gaze. A faint smile kicked up the corner of his mouth and then he tipped his head back to the sky. “I have to say the same.”

Common sense told Trey to get his ass in the truck and leave.

She didn’t want anything from him. That had been made almost painfully clear.

We had a nice night, but that’s probably all it’s ever going to be.

A nice night? Yeah. He equated a nice night to one that didn’t involve a temper tantrum or him forgetting that he had something in the oven or that he’d left a load of clothes in the washer for two days. If he got through a day without some sort of minor disaster and could relax at the end and maybe not have a headache? That was a nice night.

What they’d had, for him at least, had shot up past nice into the realm of blow the top of my head off. Or maybe his cock. He couldn’t go more than a few nights without dreaming about her, although after years of what had felt like an almost sexless existence, he wasn’t entirely bothered by the dreams.

He was just bothered by the fact that a night that had all but shaken his world had just been . . . nice.

He was still craving a whole lot of everything from her and she wanted nothing from him.

Just his luck.

*   *   *

Ressa bit her lip as she pushed off the truck, moving to stand in front of him. She had to fight the urge to smooth that misery from his brow, hold him until it all eased away.

“So why do you want to give me a cookie and a teddy bear?” he asked, his gruff voice cutting through the fog of thoughts tangling in her head.

“Hmm.” Unable to keep her hands to herself, she let herself lift one up, intending to brush his hair back. But he caught her wrist, held her hand there, trapped in mid-air.

Their gazes locked.

She forced a smile.

“I’m past the age where a teddy bear will help, Ressa.” His thumb stroked over her wrist and then slowly, he let go of her hand.

She let it fall to her side, stung by that blunt rejection, although she supposed she shouldn’t be. She was the one who’d pushed him away. “I can’t help it. You look like you need it,” she said, smiling to cover the emptiness she felt.

“We’ll save it for Clayton.” He glanced toward the school. “He needs it more than I do.”

“Yeah. I guess he does.” Sighing, she followed his gaze, her heart aching for the boy they’d left inside. “Guess maybe the teddy bear idea is a little much for you.”

She looked back at him, watched as a faint smile crooked his lips. “Yeah. Well, I never say no to cookies. But I don’t need somebody to hold my hand over the fact that my son is starting school. I just need to . . . deal.”

Starting school? “This isn’t just about him starting school, is it?”

Through his lashes, he studied her. “Why are you asking?”

“I . . .” Frowning, she looked away.

“That weekend we had is over, Ressa. You made it clear that was all you wanted, so what does it matter if I need a cookie or whatever?”

It stung. And if she wouldn’t have hated herself for taking the easy way out, she would have just told him to forget it.

But as she stood there struggling for some sort of answer, he took a step toward her. His mouth grazed her ear, sending a shiver through her. “I still wake up smelling you on my skin. A cookie, a teddy bear, a friendly chat isn’t what I want from you. Since you already decided you didn’t want anything more than beyond what we had in that hotel room, I’d just as soon not try to do . . . whatever it is you’re doing.”

He went to cut around her.

Insanity struck.

There was no other explanation, but logic had nothing to do with what she did next. She caught his arm in her hand. “Almost every night, I find myself dreaming about you. It’s not a matter of not wanting more.”

Under her hand, the muscles in his arm went tense.

He was watching her. She didn’t want to meet his eyes, but she couldn’t avoid it forever. Mouth dry, she slowly lifted her gaze to his and found that blue green gaze cutting into her, stripping her bare, and all she wanted to do was erase the past five weeks. No. Not the past five weeks—there was another period of her life she’d love to undo, but that just wasn’t possible.

“It’s just that this is too complicated,” she said.

“Complicated.” He shifted around.

Ressa found herself caged between him and the truck. His arms bracketed her shoulders and his mouth was only a whisper away now.

“Sometimes we make things out to be more complicated than they really are,” Trey said, and his voice was imminently reasonable. So reasonable and logical, it caught her off guard when he slid his knee between her thighs. She wore a full-cut skirt, but the material was thin, very little barrier, and she gasped at the feel of him rubbing against her inner thighs. “Let’s simplify. I want you. I want to know more about you and I want to spend time with you. Either you want the same or you don’t.”

As he brushed his mouth against her cheek, he murmured, “Which is it?”

“I want that, but . . .”

He kissed her.

Ressa moaned, grabbing his waist to steady herself, but he ended the kiss too quickly and moved away, watching her with hooded hungry eyes.

“Then we either try this out or don’t.” He stood four feet away now, hands hanging loose at his sides. His gaze focused on her mouth and Ressa shuddered at the hunger she saw there.

We don’t.

Logic whispered inside her head. She knew better. “I’m something of a mess, Trey,” she said, managing to keep her voice level. “I’m raising a child who isn’t mine. There are complications involved with that. There are other things in my life that are just as complicated, if not worse. I don’t think I’m the ideal woman for a man like you to get involved with.”

“I’m a single father.” He took a step toward her.

“And you’re doing a damn fine job with him. That’s not the sort of complications I have going on.” There was a war going on inside her. Logic and desire, for once, completely at odds.

Trey reached up and fisted his hand in her hair. She’d left it down, and the weight of it was heavy on her neck.

He tugged on the curls, forcing her head back as he moved in closer. “I’ve got four brothers—one of them is a movie star, the other is a former child star and we can’t get together without the damn paparazzi stalking us.”

He brushed a soft kiss across her cheek and she felt that light caress all through her body.

“My son has nightmares, convinced that I’ll die just like his mother did, and sometimes I wake up, convinced he died in the wreck that killed his mother. The night my wife was buried, I went out, got completely wasted and managed to get in a fight and I don’t remember any of it—the whole night is a black hole, but whatever the hell happened was enough to turn me off alcohol—even the smell of whiskey is enough to make me sick. I know plenty about complications, Ressa.”

She reached up, fisting her hands in his shirt.

“It’s simple . . . either you want to spend time with me . . . or you don’t.”

He made it sound so easy.

“I’m going to ask you again and you just tell me the first thing that comes to mind—after this, I won’t bother anymore.”

Ressa stilled.

He smoothed a hand down her back and then pulled away.

Only a few feet separated them.

It felt like a mile.

“I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee. Would you like to join me?”

Before she could answer, a voice interrupted them.

“Trey!”

At the sound of that voice, Trey closed his eyes. Staring down at the ground, he muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

“Trey? Hello!”

Her answer lodged in her throat, Ressa turned. Next to her, Trey took a deep breath and she had the oddest feeling he was bracing himself.

She slid him one final look and then met the gaze of the woman in front of them.

It was . . . well . . . June Cleaver.

That was all Ressa could think.

She looked like a modern-day version of June Cleaver. Her ebony hair was cut in a short, sleek bob that accentuated a long, elegant neck. Not that her neck needed the extra accent, but there was a strand of pearls that glowed against oh, so, perfect skin. Her cardigan was mossy green and matched her wide eyes. The cardigan that picked up the green in her full-cut skirt . . . a skirt that looked like a watercolor garden. Roses and lilies against a misty background.

Those mossy green eyes looked at Trey and she all but had her heart written in them. If the woman had handed him a letter declaring her love, it wouldn’t have been any less clear.

“Um . . . hello,” she said, her voice soft, breathy before it steadied. “I thought I’d come see you and Clayton. Since it’s his first day and all. Has . . . school already started?”

“Ah, yeah, well, that’s nice of you, Nadine, but yeah, it’s already started. Clay’s in class, ready to go.” Trey gave her a casual smile.

Casual, maybe, but to Ressa, it looked frayed around the edges.

Nadine shot her another look from the corner of her eye. Some part of her wanted to apologize, just for standing there, and she thought maybe she should just excuse herself—

Trey reached out a hand, rested it on her waist, almost as if he’d read her mind.

“I wanted to be with the two of you.” Nadine’s voice was softer now. Almost a whisper. “He’s been so excited, and you’ve been so worried . . .”

If Ressa hadn’t been standing next to her, she wouldn’t have noticed, the way he tensed, so subtly. But nothing showed in his voice, on his face, as he shrugged. “The first day of school is supposed to be a roller coaster ride, but we handled it.”

She nodded again, looking away. “I can see that. I . . . well. I just want to help, to be there for you. As much as I can.” Another one of those glances at Ressa, and this one lingered.

Unable to stay quiet anymore, Ressa gave her a wide, brilliant smile. “Hi.”

Trey’s thumb stroked her back.

Nadine’s throat worked as she swallowed, her gaze darting off to the side.

“You . . . well, you’ve got the whole morning ahead of you now. It’s going to be awfully quiet at home. Why don’t we go have some coffee?”

Ressa felt, as much as heard, Trey’s sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Ressa said, the words popping out. Her tongue was moving and her brain had no idea what was going on. “Trey and I were just getting ready to head out. We already had plans.”

Trey’s hand fisted in the material of her blouse.

“What . . .” Now Nadine’s gaze flew to her. “But . . .”

“Nadine, this is Ressa Bliss.” Trey let go of her blouse, but not of her. He curled his arm around her waist and he moved closer, pressed his mouth to her temple. “A friend of mine.”

Nadine looked back and forth between them. “But . . . I . . .” She blinked and looked away. “We didn’t have any time to talk today.”

“With Clay starting school, the morning routine has to change.” Trey smiled. “It was nice of you to come by, Nadine.”

She nodded and slid another look back at Ressa.

Ressa felt something cold slide through her—those mossy green eyes had gone chilly.

There was something under that June Cleaver mask.

“That woman is working you,” Ressa murmured as she watched the woman climb in her car a few yards away.

“Nah. Nadine’s just . . . lonely. Her husband died a couple of years ago and she’s shy, doesn’t know how to talk to people very well.”

Shy, my ass. “She’s working you.” Ressa slid away, turning to study him. “And you clearly were falling for it. She’s good . . . I think I almost fell for it, too. What’s the deal about your morning routine?”

Scowling, he rubbed at his jaw. “We started having coffee together in the mornings a while back. We just sit on the porch while Clayton eats his breakfast there. It’s not a big deal or anything. It’s not like we’re dating.”

“Maybe not to you. She thinks she’s got a claim on you.”

Trey rolled his eyes and then moved in, cupping her chin. “And is that why you decided you’d have coffee? Or was that just to distract her?”

“No.” She swallowed and hoped like hell she wasn’t making a mistake. “I want to . . . have coffee.”

His thumb swept over her lip. “Just coffee?”

“For now.” Then she eased back. “But I’m not joking. That woman thinks you two have something going, Trey. Why else would she show up here? That’s a mom thing—or a serious girlfriend thing.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. “She probably just didn’t think about it.”

“She did.” Rolling her eyes, Ressa muttered, “Men. Sometimes you’re so blind.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She ran her tongue across her teeth. “Well, for one . . . if we’re going to have coffee . . . or anything else . . . you need to make sure she knows you’re not interested.”

“Nadine knows that.”

Ressa cocked a brow, and as Trey’s face went red, curiosity flooded her.

“We . . . ah . . . look, we tried a date. Once. It didn’t work out. At all.”

Cocking her head, Ressa asked, “Was this before or after the coffee deal started?”

“Before. Months before.” He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I suspect she thinks you two have had a lot of dates since then that have worked out—every morning you have coffee together. You need to make her back off. Have her give you some space . . . What?”

He sighed. “She makes you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. I . . . Fuck. Sometimes when Clayton and I head out for breakfast, just the two of us, she gives me this look and it’s like I kicked a puppy right in front of her.”

“I told you—she’s working you. How do you feel when you keep doing whatever it is she wants? Like just now, when you saw her here? What did you feel?”

*   *   *

How in the hell had the discussion gone from him trying to talk Ressa into coffee to his somewhat annoying and needy neighbor?

Trey did not know.

Ressa eyed him coolly, an arch look on her face, as she waited for an answer.

Trapped. He winced and looked away. Nadine was a sweet woman. She helped out with everything. She didn’t have any kids, but she helped out with a local Boy Scout troop. She volunteered with Big Brothers/Big Sisters. She headed up clothing drives and made sandwiches to pass out down at a park where some homeless people tended to gather on weekends.

She was a sweet lady.

They’d tried one date and he’d only said yes because the few times she’d stammered out her obviously nervous invitation to the movies or dinner, she’d left him feeling like he’d broken her heart when he said no.

They’d gone out to dinner and a movie and when they came back, she’d been the one to make a move.

She’d kissed him.

Everything inside him had gone cold.

There had been absolutely no interest—in fact, he couldn’t wait for her to stop kissing him.

Turning away, he rested his hands on his hips and looked up at the clear blue bowl of the sky stretching overhead. “Trapped,” he bit off. Every time he was with Nadine, he had that same sensation. He didn’t know why, but that was how he felt. And it wasn’t because of anything Nadine did.

“I’d feel trapped, too, if somebody kept trying to manipulate me into shit I didn’t want.”

He stilled and shot a look over his shoulder, meeting Ressa’s gaze. “What?”

“I’d feel trapped, too.” She shrugged and moved toward him.

She was so close . . .

Reaching out, he caught her waist and pulled her against him.

She didn’t resist.

Leaning back against the truck, he took the soft weight of her body on his and his cock stirred, blood draining down and pooling in his groin.

Her lashes lowered.

A soft sigh shuddered out of her.

“No more coffee,” he said softly.

Then he trailed his fingers up the inside of her ribs.

She was right, he suspected, and it made him feel stupid that he hadn’t seen it before now.