The Keeper (3 page)

Coming down from the high of
climax, she shook, realizing she was half-naked in the town make-out location.
She moaned and buried her face in his neck. "Oh, my God, Pete. I can't
believe that just happened."

"Believe it, Share. I hope you
want it to happen again, but next time, I want a bed. With both of us naked and
my cock buried so far up inside you it won't find its way out."

All she could do for a moment was
whimper.

***

Pete slipped his twitching fingers
from the sweet, hot embrace of her cunt and savored every tauntingly slow inch
of the journey. Gazing into her eyes, he put his fingers in his mouth and
sucked them clean. He laughed out loud at the look on her face. So surprised.
"Oh, baby, your look is priceless."

"It's just that I've never
seen anyone do that."

"Any time, my dear. You taste
delicious."

She placed her palm along his jaw,
rubbed her thumb across his lips.

Jesus, he wanted her. She had to
feel his cock on her ass. Every wiggle, every squirm rubbed him the right way.
However, crazy as it sounded, he was enjoying her reactions. He shifted in the
seat.

"Oh, Pete, I'm sorry if I'm
too heavy."

"You feel just fine right
where you are, honey," he responded, pulling her in close again.

"Do you want me to do
something for you?" She ran her fingers up and down the center of his
chest and caressed his nipples through the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

He hissed in response. "Man,
do I ever, but this isn't the place."

"Do you want to go back to my
house?"

He jerked roughly when he heard the
chirp of his cell phone. "Shit." He had to juggle her to lean forward
to where he'd put the phone on the dashboard. "Rayne." He listened
for a few seconds. "Okay, Mol. Yeah, I'll be there."

He wrapped his hand around her neck
and tipped up her chin. Then he ran a finger down the furrow between her brows.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am. I have to go, when I'd rather be doing
this." He brushed his lips over hers, back and forth. When she started to
moan and amp up her response, he knew he'd better quit, or they'd start up
again.

"What happened?" she
whispered, her voice none too steady.

"Zayboh's on call, but he
didn't answer his cell. He's gonna get his butt kicked. Luckily for me, I
answered," he said, the sarcasm clear in his voice. "I'm really
sorry, but I have to take you home."

"I understand. It's
okay."

"No, it's not okay," he
said as he settled her back on her side of the car and started the engine.

"We'll have another time. I
hope."

"You bet we will." He
leaned over and gave her another long, gentle kiss. "Shit," he
muttered against her lips. "I've gotta go."

When they reached her house, he
gave her one final kiss. "I'll call you tomorrow. Okay?"

Chapter Four

The minute Sharon got inside her
place the phone rang. She hardly had a chance to catch her breath before
answering. Glancing at the kitchen clock, her stomach clutched with worry.
There was only one person who would be calling her this late.
"Hello?"

"Sharon, you gotta come home
right now."

She leaned on her counter and took
a deep breath, biting back her automatic irritable response of what now?
Focusing her attention on the
Hunks of HGTV
calendar hanging on her
kitchen wall, she finally said, "Mom, what's the matter? Why are you
calling so late?"

"Your father's back."

She doubled over as if the breath
violently punched out of her lungs. Her head reeled. Her legs folded, and she
had to plop down onto the floor.

"Did you hear me? Are you
there?"

She tried to make her voice as even
as possible. "Yes, I heard you."

"Well, he wants to see
you."

Breathing deeply, her mouth wide
open to take in as much air as possible, she fought the nausea and anger
roiling in her stomach. "Is that so?"

"Can you come here?"

She caught her mother's anxiety.
"Is he standing there right now?"

"Yeah."

"Why did he come back?"
She was asking questions to delay thinking or acting.

"Here, he wants to talk to
you."

Sharon clicked the phone off and
sat there, shaking. There was no way she wanted to talk to him. The very last
time she saw him she was ten years old. Sixteen years without him, without any
word about or from him. She tried to repress the nausea, the tears, the pain,
and the reminders of the despair at his rejection so many years before.

As an adult, she'd read enough to
realize his leaving wasn't her fault, but the chubby little girl still inside
her feared it was. Damn it, she didn't care. Let her mother handle him. She
didn't care if she ever saw him again. He wasn't going to get another chance to
hurt her. Her phone rang again. Her first thought was to let it ring, but she
answered.

"I can't talk right now. I'll
call you tomorrow." She hung up again. And in case that didn't get her
message across well enough, she unplugged the phone.

Oh, God, what if this had happened
when Pete was here? He would have been out the door in a second, never to see
her again.

She spent the rest of the night in
her dancing clothes, huddled on the couch. Every time she dozed off, she jerked
awake in a heart-thumping state of anxiety. This would spell the end of any
relationship, even short term, with Pete. What guy would sign up for this kind
of personal trauma? Son of a bitch, Alan Timmons did it again. He took
something good in her life and trashed it. Again.

In the morning, after a long,
emotionally raw night, she made coffee. She wasn't ready for reality yet, but
she plugged her phone back in.

She heard it ringing when she was
in the bathroom. Showering and washing her hair went a little way toward making
her feel half-way normal. She didn't have to work that day, so she put on
lightweight, long, drawstring pants and a tank top. She might as well try to be
comfortable physically, since emotional comfort would be impossible.
Eventually, she couldn't put it off any longer and listened to her voice mails.
Sure enough, her mother had called again. Her father wanted her to come home.

Well, she wasn't going to jump to
do his bidding. He'd been gone sixteen years and didn't deserve to boss her
around. She called her mother. "I'm not running back there to see him. You
know where I live. He can find me if he wants to."

"Baby, don't be like that. He
really wants to see you."

"Does it make any difference
to you that I don't want to see him?"

"Will you at least talk to him
on the phone?"

"No." It sounded like her
mother had been crying.
God, when would those two figure it out?
Then a
thought hit her. "Mom, is he back for good?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe. What
am I supposed to tell him?" Linda Timmons whined.

"Mother, I'm sorry for you,
but I don't want to see him. Now I have to leave. I have things to do,"
she said definitively.

"But Sharon—"

"Sorry, Mom, I've gotta
go." She hung up. To keep from getting any more calls, she grabbed her
purse and car keys and slammed the door shut behind her. Just when her life was
in order and a great guy like Pete was in it, this had to happen. She barely
tolerated her mother, let alone the thought of her long-missing father.

***

Pete had been thinking about Sharon
all day. The combination of her sexiness with the surprising sweetness and
vulnerability was what kept him intrigued. He'd bet his last dollar she wasn't
as sexually easy as the guys thought. Sure, she'd hooked up with Hank, but
they'd been steady for a few months.

She was off work today, so he
decided to swing by her place in the afternoon. Maybe they could make plans for
later.

When he pulled up in front of her
house, she was standing in the open driver's side door of her car, looking over
the top at a man and a woman. For some reason, she looked like she'd barricaded
herself behind the car. Her tense facial expression and her body language said
stay
away
. The standoff aspect of the scene was familiar to a cop. Domestic
disputes were dangerous, and he forced himself into the proper frame of mind.

As he sauntered over, he
scrutinized the couple. The woman looked similar to Sharon, enough to be a
relative. A trashy version of Sharon: big, teased up hair, lots of makeup,
tight Capri pants, and an off the shoulder blouse. Even though the woman was
trying to look young, he figured her for Sharon's mother rather than a sister.
The man's clothing was clean, but he looked scruffy and gaunt, like an aging
rocker.

What was alarming was Sharon's
face. It was beet red, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes wide in anger.
He called her name in a cool, calm voice, giving her warning he was near. He
repeated it, as he got closer. On the third time, she straightened and finally
spared him a glance. It seemed to take her a minute to recollect who he was,
and that broke his heart.

Sharon opened her mouth, but before
she could speak, the woman said, "What'd you do, Sharon? Call the
cops?"

"No. Pete, what're you doing
here?" she asked defensively.

"I came by to take you out to
dinner. Are you all right?"

"Um…I'm fine."

It was an obvious lie. He strode up
next to her and slid his arm around her waist. She was shaking, cold even in
the heat of the summer day.

"Sharon, we came to talk to
you. Alone," said the woman.

"Honey, what's going on? Do
you want me to get rid of these people?"

"Tell him who we are,"
the woman demanded.

Sharon turned stiffly toward him,
her gaze frightened and unfocused.

"Come on over here. Let's
talk," he suggested, urging her away from the car and the people who were
obviously upsetting her. "Stay over there," he ordered the couple,
using an authoritative voice that you learned in his profession. When he got
her to the other side of the street, he turned her so they were out of her
sightline, but he could keep an eye on them.

"Share." He cupped her
shoulders to steady her. "It's okay now. What's the matter?"

She chewed on her lower lip and
wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Who are they? Are they
threatening you? Do you want me to get you out of here?"

She shook her head, a fast shake.
"Pete, I'm okay. Maybe you'd better go. There's nothing for you to be
involved in."

"I don't want to leave you.
You look terrified."

"I'm not really afraid,"
she said in a low, quiet voice.

"Tell me what's going
on."

She hesitated.

"It's all right. Let me help
you."

Her shoulders slumped, a breath
burst out of her. "They're my parents."

"And it's not a good thing
they're here," he added, figuring that much out. "You're shaking,
honey. I can take you to my place."

"No. Thanks, Pete, but I can
handle this by myself."

"You don't have to."

"But I can. I'll talk to you
later."

She was dismissing him. He didn't
have any right to interfere in her life. He hadn't known her long, but she was
obviously in distress. He also recognized a courageous woman. She was shaking
out of her shoes, but was going back into the fight.

"Call me. If you don't call me
by tonight, I'm calling you." He gently massaged her shoulders. Man, are
they tight.

"Okay," she finally
agreed, relaxing somewhat under his ministrations.

Count on it!
Reluctantly, he
left, checking his rear view mirror as long as she was in sight. She'd started
back across the street toward the couple. It sure didn't look like the same
type of relationship he had with his family. They wouldn't have been glaring at
one another over the top of a car. At least not with the animosity he'd sensed
back there. He'd just have to trust her and check on her later.

Chapter Five

Sharon had to get her act together
before she talked to her mother and father. A surge of rage boiled up in her at
the thought of seeing that man and even calling him
father
. He didn't
deserve that name.

"Can we go inside and talk,
Sharon?" Linda asked.

She didn't want them in her home.
"There's a picnic table." She pointed to a little park across the
street. "We can go over there." They walked silently to the table.
The man she refused to call father, Alan, hadn't said a word yet.

She sat on one side of the table,
and Alan and Linda sat together on the other. "Why did you come back
now?"

"Honey, your dad came back to
see you."

"Isn't it a little late?"
Sharon let the hostility come out loud and clear. "You haven't said
anything. Where have you been all these years?"

"I've been traveling
around." His voice sounded rusty. He had to clear it a couple of times
just for that short sentence.

"Did you think I'd be happy to
see you?" Her rage was the only thing holding her together. At least it
kept her from crying.

"Yeah, I kinda thought you
would be."

"Well, you're wrong. You left
us a long time ago. There's never been a word from you; not through birthdays
and Christmases, graduation, Mother's Days—nothing." Her teeth clenched,
her lips drawing tight and flat.

He didn't respond.

"You have nothing to say for
yourself, do you?"

"You turned into a beautiful
woman, Sharon."

"A big difference from the
chubby ten year old you left, huh?" she snapped bitterly.

He folded his hands in the prayer
position on the table in front of him. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Were we so terrible you had
to run away? Was I so terrible?" she lashed out.

"Sharon, honey," Linda
interrupted.