A Deep and Dark December (40 page)

He finally felt as though he belonged here, in this smallest of small towns. Who could’ve predicted that?

The only glaring hole in his life was the one Erin should’ve filled. As he drove into the cemetery near the plot where Ham—no, his father, he couldn’t run away from that anymore—would finally come to rest, he made a vow to convince Erin some way, somehow that he
was
indeed finally the man she’d challenged him to be.

The sea threw its all at the rocks, crashing in big booms, shooting sheets of spray straight up, misting Erin from head to toe. Not that it mattered, with the sky doing its best to outdo the ocean. Lightning flashed, followed shortly by thunder. She wasn’t sure why she’d come here. Certainly it was foolish in such bad weather. Her hair hung in limp ropes and her wet clothes clung, chilling her. She welcomed the idea that the rain could somehow wash away what had happened in this place nearly a month ago.

This was the first time she’d dared to venture out here. Recapturing her favorite place in San Rey—in the whole world, really—felt like the last step she needed to banish the nightmares for good. Sure, she could’ve come up here to the bluffs on a sunny afternoon, but where was the challenge in that? She laughed at herself. She’d been such a scared little mouse most of her life and now here she was, pushing herself, braving the elements to prove the point to herself that she could be bold and daring.

She raised her arms and tilted her head toward the sky. The twinge in her shoulder barely registered beyond the cold that had seeped into her bones. Another few weeks of physical therapy and she’d be pronounced whole once again. Other than the scars on her body, there would be nothing left of that night. She smiled to herself at that. She’d done it. She’d fought the monster and her own demons and had come out the other side stronger, if not happier.

“It’s good to see you like this.”

She lowered her arms, but didn’t spin around. Somehow she knew he’d come or he’d known she would come. Either way, here they were.

She turned around slowly, bracing herself to see him up close for the first time in weeks. Her preparation was wasted. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the sight of him as wet as she, standing just a few feet away.

“It’s good to feel like this,” she answered.

He cocked his head to the side, a small smile tilting up one corner of his mouth. “Nice weather we’re having.”

She tucked her hands in her coat pockets and gave him the same sort of smile in return. “Isn’t it?”

“I’ve heard if you count one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi after a lightning strike, you can tell how close a storm is. Four-Mississippi would be four miles away.”

“Is it important to you to know how far away a storm is?”

“It’s important for me to know where I stand in nature. It can turn on a dime.”

She nodded. “Hmm, I’ve heard that. Do you think by predicting how far away a storm is that you can know for certain when it will reach you?”

“Maybe. If I’ve done all the right things in the right way for the right reasons.” He looked up at the sky as lightning flashed. “One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississip—”

In four short steps she crashed into him. They held each other hard as though the storm would sweep them out to sea. She tilted her face up, he met her halfway, and they kissed a slow, winding kiss that spun her world on its axis. It had been so long since she’d been with him. So long since she’d felt him,
so long
since the scent of him wrapped around her.

Holding her face in his hands, he broke the kiss and stared down at her. “They also say that storms wash everything clean. Do you believe that?”

“I think that’s quite possible, depending on how strong it is.”

“What about one as strong as this one?”

She glanced up as another flash of light streaked the sky. “One-Mississippi, two-Miss—” Thunder roared.

~*~

Graham’s heart beat nearly as loud as the thunder. “It’s almost on top of us.”

She nodded, her face sliding through his fingers, wet from the rain and her tears.

“I’m not leaving until it’s right on top of us,” he promised.

“Me either.”

“We can keep counting as it moves on, track its progress.”

“I don’t think I can stay here that long.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I don’t need to. I’ll believe you when you tell me the worst is over.”

Relief washed through him. “I can do that.”

The sky blazed bright, illuminating them for a split second.

“One-Miss,” they whispered together.

BOOM.

“It’s here,” she breathed.

Bringing her face to his chest, needing that full body connection, he held her tighter. “I’ve got you.”

The rain came down at them sideways, pelting them with heavy drops. All around them, a wall of sound and sensation made it seem as if they were the last two people on earth.

“And I’ve got you.” She gripped his back and held on just as tight.

The thunderstorm raged as though it had gained new strength and purpose. The sea seemed to try to raise itself to meet it, the waves more violent than they’d been before. But for Graham there was only the two of them in this place that had been so many things to them—where they’d first come together, where they’d nearly lost each other, and now where they’d finally found each other again.

He slowly came to notice that the rain had let up. In the distance the thunder rumbled, signaling the all clear. He dared to pull away a little to look down at her. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she was finally here in his arms again.

~*~

Erin blinked up at him, needing to be sure she wasn’t seeing things in the rain. It was gone, that heavy lidded look of remorse he’d had. She couldn’t help the joy that coursed through her. He’d finally come back to her, finally forgiven himself and cut loose the weighty ties of grief and guilt.

“I love you,” she blurted out.

He stilled. Even his breathing seemed to be suspended as he stared at her through the darkness.

“It’s okay, Graham. You don’t have to say or do anything. I just wanted you to know.”

“Why?” he whispered with a faint note of disbelief.

“I don’t know. I just do. I mean, how do you explain—”

He put a finger to her lips, silencing her. “I don’t care why.”

She pulled his hand away, annoyed. “Then why did you ask?”

“Because I can’t imagine why you would.” He kissed her hard and quick. “But I really don’t care why. I’m just so damn grateful.”

“Okay.” Not the response she’d expected. At least he hadn’t thanked her.

“Thank you.”

Fantastic. “You’re welcome… I guess.” This wasn’t going quite as she’d thought it would.

“No. That’s not what I…I mean…” He put his forehead to hers. “Thank god you love me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed. “You’re welcome.”

“Now what?”

“Now I take you home and show you just how much I love every single inch of you.”

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Excerpt from
Rush

Pleasure at Home Book 1

CHAPTER ONE

Miyuki Price-Jones held up the shocking pink Multiple O vibrator, flipped the switch and… nothing. No reversible rotating head, no quivering bunny ears and no massaging beads. For the third time this week she’d turned on a toy only to end up frustrated.

“Davy!” Crosby yelled from somewhere in the darkened television studio.

The young man in the corner jumped, then shuffled over to the man sitting in a faded director’s chair. “Yes, Mr. Crosby?”

“Your job is simple. Put the batteries in the toys, test them to make sure they work and don’t give me a reason to kick your ass all the way to Tuscaloosa!” Rob Crosby, the director of the adult home shopping show,
Pleasure at Home
, pinched the bridge of his nose.

All Miyuki, or Mi, could see was the top of Crosby’s balding head, but she could tell he’d had it with Davy. He was going to fire him even though none of this was his fault. It was sabotage… again. She set the Multiple O vibrator down on the faux walnut coffee table next to the other sex toys she would be showcasing today and stood to get Crosby’s attention. “I’m sure it’s not Davy’s fault. Maybe we got a bad batch of batteries. Or—”

“Or more likely Davy is an incompetent idiot who couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map!” Crosby shouted. Crosby was always shouting. It had taken Mi three weeks to stop flinching every time he opened his mouth. Crosby turned on Davy. “Did you even
put
batteries in it?”

Davy bobbed his head. “Yes, sir.”

Without wavering his glare at Davy, Crosby barked, “Check it, Mi. And so help me Davy.” Crosby pointed a finger at the young man. “If four double A’s don’t pop out the bottom of that thing your ass is grass.” Someone’s ass was always grass or otherwise in jeopardy with Crosby.

Mi picked up the Multiple O and opened the bottom of it. Four batteries sat there, nestled properly with the plus and minus ends exactly as they should be. “Davy’s right. There must be something wrong with the batteries.” She tipped the device upright and switched it on. Still nothing. “Or the vibrator.”

Crosby threw the sheaf of papers in his hands, sending them floating down around him. “God damn it! Somebody get me some goddamned batteries that work! Of all the incompetent, backwoods, inbred—”

“Crosby?” Mi interrupted. “Why don’t I just take the batteries from one of the other—”

“Davy can do it!” Crosby stood up. “Take five, everybody. When I get back every single one of those goddamned things better work. Or your ass is hitting the pavement. Hear me, Davy? And somebody pick up those goddamned papers.” He turned and stormed off in the direction of the studio offices. “Mi! With me.”

Mi handed the Multiple O to Davy with a mumbled apology. Even though there was often no good excuse for Crosby’s bad behavior, she still felt like she had to apologize for him.

Davy waved it off as most did when she made the gesture, his long blond hair hanging like a curtain as he bent over his task. “Ain’t your fault, Miss Mi. Better catch up before he starts threatenin’ you, too.”

Mi turned to follow Crosby and caught sight of a man she’d never seen before, standing against the wall just out of the reach of the stage lights, his face fully shadowed. He was large, well over six feet tall and as broad as a doublewide. Something about the way he stood—still, yet humming with energy—caused an answering rhythm to thrum from deep inside her. Her pulse kicked up, generating a near fight or flight sensation that sent her senses into overdrive. Who was he? What was he doing here?

“Mi!”

She jumped, her focus flickering to Crosby, then back to the man. “Coming,” she answered, keeping her gaze on the man.

She rounded the end of the stage opposite him and stepped down. The man made no move, but she knew he watched her. Turning down the hall after Crosby, she should have felt relieved to be out of the man’s sight and yet she instantly missed the extra beat his attention had caused.

Crosby sat at his desk, pulling a long drink from the flask he kept in his bottom drawer. He wiped away the bright pink drop from his bottom lip, but not before Mi had seen it. He thought he was fooling everyone by putting stomach medicine in a container meant for alcohol. And he was. Everyone, but Mi.

He looked up at her with blurry, red eyes. “Third time this week.” He held up a hand. “Before you say it, I know. It’s not Davy. But goddamn it, I hate this shit.” He leaned back in his chair and waved for Mi to sit down, so she did. “The police don’t have one single lead and I know you’re not going to like it, but Sellers hired you a bodyguard.”