Authors: Kelly Jamieson
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.”
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?”