Summer Reads Box Set, Books 4-6 Read online

  "What the hell is going on?" Nick demanded, retreating into anger. He knew how to fight with Lisa. He couldn't remember how to like her, how to love her.

  Lisa stiffened. "Excuse me?”

  "I get a frantic call from my niece saying her mother has taken off and you're in trouble."

  She put her hands on her hips. The light of battle entered her eyes. "I'm not in trouble, and Maggie has just gone away for the weekend."

  "Then why did Roxy call me?"

  "Mary Bea was a little upset, but she's fine now. We're all fine. You can go home." She started to close the door, but Nick stuck his fool out.

  "Not so fast. I think I'll come in and talk to the kids if you don't mind."

  "And if I do?"

  "Tough."

  "Nick--"

  He brushed past her. "Roxy, Dylan, Mary Bea?" he shouted.

  The kids came running from every direction—Dylan from the kitchen, Roxy and Mary Bea down the stairs. They threw themselves into their uncle's outstretched arms, their eyes beaming with happiness.

  Lisa couldn't help but feel a bit jealous at the sight. They loved him. They wanted him, not her. But why would they want her? They didn't even know her. It was her fault that she was practically a stranger, but that didn't make it easier to take.

  "Are you going to stay with us, Uncle Nick?" Dylan asked. "I got a cool new game we could play."

  "It looks like you already have someone to watch you," Nick said, not even glancing in Lisa's direction. "Where did your mom go?"

  "She got mad and left," Roxy said. "We don't know when she's coming back."

  "She's coming back Sunday," Lisa interrupted.

  "I don't think she's coming back ever," Mary Bea said, her lips trembling once again. "She said we were driving her crazy."

  "Don't cry, please don't cry," Lisa begged.

  "I can't help it," Mary Bea said with a hiccup. "I want my mommy." Her words ended with a wail.

  "Everything's fine, huh?" Nick ran his hand through Mary Bea's tangled blond curls, 'It's okay, pumpkin. Uncle Nick is here." He cocked his head to one side. "What's that sound?"

  Lisa was so distracted by the gentle way he soothed Mary Bea that she couldn't hear anything but the pounding of her own heart.

  "It sounds like someone is taking a shower," Dylan said.

  Roxy clapped a hand to her mouth. "The tub."

  Lisa beat Roxy up the stairs, only to find water splashing over the top of the tub, covering the bathroom floor and soaking into the hall carpet. In her rush to turn off the faucet, she slid across the wet floor, landing on her buttocks and slamming her big toe into the tub, which sent a rush of pain up her leg. The water soaked through her skirt in seconds. By the time she had righted herself and reached for the faucet, she was sopping wet.

  When she turned around, she stared into four sets of amazed eyes. She felt embarrassed, like she'd just walked naked into the middle of an intersection. "It's all right," she mumbled. "I'll clean it up. It will be okay."

  A loud, shrill, beeping noise suddenly rang through the house.

  "Oh, my God, is that the smoke alarm?" Lisa asked.

  "The popcorn," Dylan cried.

  This time Nick led the rush down the stairs and into the kitchen, where kernels of corn were turning black in a sizzling frying pan. Nick turned off the burner and pushed the pan away from the heat.

  "You've got everything under control, huh?" Nick asked again.

  "I thought he was putting a bag in the microwave," Lisa explained, her damp skirt clinging to her legs with a coolness that sent a shiver down her spine. She hated the way Nick looked at her, like she was a failure, like she couldn't do anything right, although she shouldn't have been surprised by the accusation in his eyes. He'd looked exactly the same way eight years ago. "This is your fault," she said in defense. "If you hadn't arrived, Roxy would have turned off the water in the tub, and I would have stopped Dylan from trying to fry the popcorn."

  Nick's eyes blazed. "It's always my fault, isn't it, Lisa?"

  She took an instinctive step backward, knowing he wasn't talking about the popcorn or the tub and that she'd just opened a door she had no intention of going through. "I didn't mean—I can't do this, Nick."

  "It's always about you."

  It was never about me. It was always about her. Robin. Our baby. The protest screamed silently through her head, but the words wouldn't come out. She hadn't said Robin's name out loud since the day they'd buried her. She couldn't say it now. Instead she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Go home, Nick. We'll be fine."

  He hesitated, then turned toward the door, but Mary Bea's plaintive sob cut through the silence in the room. She launched herself against him, throwing her chubby little arms around his thigh so he couldn't move.

  Nick hesitated, obviously torn between the children he loved and the ex-wife he hated. "Maybe I should stay. The kids know me."

  "Maggie asked me to watch them."

  "Because she couldn't get a hold of me. You're off the hook. You can head back to L.A. Take off the way you always do."

  It was tempting. Boy, was it tempting. Then she remembered Maggie, her best friend's panicked face, and Lisa knew she couldn't break her promise. "I told Maggie I'd watch the kids. That's what I'm going to do."

  "I'm sure she wouldn't be surprised if you left."

  His words hurt the way they were meant to. Lisa squared her shoulders. "I'm staying, Nick. You can do what you want." She hobbled over to the stove. "But right now I'm going to clean up this mess."

  "If only you could." He met her eyes in one long, telling look before he led the children out of the room.

  Chapter Five

  Lisa managed to avoid Nick for the next hour. While he and Dylan played video games, she cleaned up the kitchen, got Mary Bea into the bath and even convinced Roxy to help sort through the pile of laundry on Maggie's bed. By ten o'clock Lisa was exhausted. The long day, the frantic drive down to San Diego, and the turmoil of seeing Nick again after so many years had taken every last ounce of her energy. It was all she could do to finish Mary Bea's bedtime story and climb out of the small twin bed before she fell asleep with her niece.

  Tucking the blanket more tightly about her niece, Lisa took one last look at Mary Bea, smiling wistfully at the sight of her blond curls falling lazily across her rosy cheeks, her little hand tucked up under her chin. Lisa had once dreamed of a life like this, a house full of children, a loving husband. But her dreams hadn't come true. Turning abruptly, she headed to the door. She turned off the light and moved into the hall, running smack into Nick.

  "Is she asleep?" he asked.

  Nick's low, husky voice unnerved her. He was so close that she could feel his breath against her cheek, see the shadow of beard along his jawline. She tried to move away, but Nick took up so much space. He always had. His presence swamped her both emotionally and physically.

  "Lisa?" he murmured, a questioning note in his voice.

  "Could you move, please?"

  Nick didn't budge. He simply looked at her with those sharp, piercing green eyes that saw everything. "My God, it's still there," he murmured. "After all these years, after everything we did and everything we said, it's still there."

  "Don't be ridiculous." Her muscles tightened, and she tried not to look at him, but he was so damn close.

  "You never could lie worth a damn."

  "Let me go, Nick."

  "I'm not holding you, Lisa."

  But he was, with his eyes, with his voice, with his memories. They'd stood together like this before at the door to Robin's room. They'd watched their baby sleep. They'd held each other and smiled with pride and joy before they'd gone back to their bedroom to make love. She took in a deep breath and let it out. "You're not making this easy."

  "Why should I?"

  Lisa took another deep breath and silently counted to ten.

  "You didn't answer my question," Nick said.

  "Where are you planning to sl
eep?" Lisa asked, changing the subject.

  A light burned through his eyes.

  "I'm taking Maggie's room," she added hastily. "I guess that leaves you with the couch."

  "What if I want her room?"

  "You're out of luck. In fact, you really don't have to stay."

  "I promised the kids I would."

  "Fine. Are Dylan and Roxy asleep?" she asked, as they walked down the hall together.

  "Dylan's asleep. Roxy's reading."

  "I'll get my bag out of my car then."

  Nick dogged her steps down the stairs and followed her on to the porch. She paused, suddenly realizing how long it had been since she had smelled the ocean and lived in a neighborhood where crickets sang through the night. The fresh air felt good, reviving.

  "I can't believe you came back," Nick said, leaning against the porch railing. He crossed his arms in front of him. "The last time I saw you was the night Mary Bea was born. You ran off so fast, I didn't get a chance to say hello."

  Lisa looked into his curious eyes and shrugged. "I don't think hello was what you were planning to say."

  He tipped his head. "You might be right about that."

  A moment passed between them and then she said, "I love Maggie, Nick. That's why I'm here. You know how much I care about her."

  "I know you did love her. But you loved a lot of people—eight years ago." He paused. "It's almost her birthday, you know. A week from Sunday—Robin would have been eight years old."

  "Don't."

  "You can't even say her name, can you?"

  Lisa didn't want to say Robin's name. She didn't want to think about her baby. She didn't want to remember. It hurt too damn much. "She's gone, Nick. Saying her name won't bring her back."

  "Maybe it would bring you back."

  She looked at him, confused by his cryptic answer. "I'm here."

  "I don't mean here in San Diego. I mean here—in your heart." He suddenly reached out, and his palm covered the curve of her breast. An irrepressible tingle ran down her spine, a shock wave of warmth and love and sex.

  "Don't," she whispered.

  His hand curved around her breast, "You died that night, Lisa, as surely as she did. At least the Lisa I remember, the Lisa I married, the Lisa I loved."

  His words cut her to the quick. She pushed his hand away from her body. "Died? I wasn't the one who disappeared for almost twelve hours while people were calling and crying and calling again," she said passionately. "I wasn't the one who came to the funeral home smelling like a brewery."

  His face tightened. "Stop it, Lisa."

  "Why should I?"

  His eyes blazed with anger and pain. "Because you made your point. I wasn't there for you. I wasn't there for Robin. Everything is my fault. We've had this argument before. You've never understood what I went through."

  "And you've never understood what I went through. That's why we didn't work, Nick. Maybe we were never meant to work. That's why it happened. It was an end to what never should have begun." Silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of their breathing, angry and rushed. "It's pointless to rehash the past," she said finally. "It's done."

  "And you've never given our past a second thought?”

  "No." As she tucked her hair behind her ear, the light sparkled off her ring and she heard Nick gasp.

  He grabbed her by the arm and stared down at the engagement ring. It glowed like a traitor caught in a spotlight. "My God! Are you married?''

  "No, I'm just engaged." She didn't know why she rushed to explain that she was only engaged. After all, she would be married soon.

  Nick shook his head in confusion as he let go of her arm. "I can't believe Maggie never said anything. You're getting married?"

  "It's been a long time, Nick. It's not like I rushed out and grabbed the next guy who came along."

  He looked at her with more pain than anger, and she felt her insides melt. "Do you remember the robins, Lisa? We sat on the porch and watched them that first spring. The male called to the female with his song and she came. They built a nest together and had baby robins."

  Yes, she remembered the robins. She remembered Nick sitting on the porch, playing his guitar as the male robin sang his song, and just like the female robin, she had been drawn to the music, to the male—to Nick.

  "So who is this guy you're marrying?" Nick asked more harshly than he should have for a man who hadn't seen her in a very long time.

  She shrugged. "Does it matter?"

  Nick didn't answer. Finally, she moved toward the edge of the porch. "I'm going to get my bag. I'll only be here till Sunday, Nick. Do you think we can just pretend to get along for two more days? I don't want the kids to feel uncomfortable."

  He hesitated, then said, "Sure, why not? We'll call a truce." He walked over to her and stuck out his hand. "Shake?"

  She knew it was a mistake the second she slid her hand into his. His palm was warm, his fingers strong and tender as they curled around hers. It wasn't a handshake. It was a meeting of two electrical wires that together created a dangerous spark.

  "That was cheating," she whispered, seeing the shrewd gleam in Nick's eyes.

  "It's still there. I knew it was still there. And so did you."

  She pulled her hand away from his and practically ran down the walkway to her car, eager to get some distance between them.

  "That's why you never came back, isn't it?" Nick's voice carried across the lawn. "You were afraid of me."

  Lisa shook her head, but couldn't chance the words. She wasn't afraid of him. She was afraid of herself.

  * * *

  There was no reason to be afraid, Maggie told herself late Saturday morning as she stood outside the entrance to Serena Hollingsworth's town house in Beverly Hills. Just because she'd never met the woman and had no business showing up at her door unannounced, there was no reason to be nervous. The woman had written to Keith. If she'd wanted to remain anonymous, she wouldn't have sent a letter to his home.

  Unless Serena didn't know Keith was married? After all, she didn't know he was dead. Maybe she also didn't know he was married with children, three beautiful children. Maggie took a deep breath as she looked around.

  The town house sat on the edge of a luxurious condominium complex. It had taken Maggie fifteen minutes just to locate number I207 in building number three. She had had to walk down several lush, green pathways to find Serena's town house, which was tucked away in a bower of bushes and flowers.

  The entrance was private. It was the perfect spot for two people to meet, two people who didn't want anyone else to see them. A perfect spot to have an affair—except for the fact that it was two hours from San Diego. If Keith had wanted to have an affair, why hadn't he had one closer to home?

  The whole thing was ridiculous. Keith could not have had a woman on the side. Maggie would have known. She would have noticed something—lipstick, a strange receipt for flowers, something. Surely, he wouldn't have been able to act perfectly natural? Wouldn't the guilt have driven him crazy? Not that Keith was a particularly guilty sort of person.

  She was the one with the guilt, the one who hated to even change seats at the baseball game for fear of getting caught. And she usually did, because she wore guilt like a scarlet letter. Keith believed some rules were made to be bent. But changing a seat at a baseball game could not be compared with having an affair. The rules of marriage were unbreakable, at least in her mind.

  As Maggie stared at Serena's door, she remembered the trips Keith had taken in the months before he'd died, trips to another lab in Santa Monica, and a couple even further up the coast in San Francisco. She'd never called him while he was away. He'd always insisted on phoning her, because he didn't know where he'd be at any given time. Whereas he always knew where she would be—right there in his house, taking care of his children.

  Maggie's imagination took over. She couldn't stop the suspicious thoughts from running through her head, the doubts, the uncertainty. Had she married an i
mposter? She remembered seeing a movie where a man had kept three wives in three different cities and none of them knew about each other, until the man had gotten hurt and all three had ended up at the hospital together.

  But that wasn't Keith. Until this last job, he'd barely travelled at all. He'd been content to come home every night to her and the children.

  At least she thought he'd been content.

  Maybe not. Maybe he'd yearned for a different life from the one they'd had.

  The doubts ran around and around in her head until she felt dizzy. She had to do something to stop them. She'd driven two hours to meet Serena Hollingsworth. Wasn't it about time she knocked on the door?

  Maggie strode forward before she could rethink her decision to act. She rang the bell and waited. There was no reply, no rustling sounds of someone hurrying to get the door, just silence. Serena wasn't home.

  Maggie felt the wind go out of her sails, the resolve go out of her head, the strength go out of her shoulders. She felt so weak she had to sit down on the step, the white envelope still clutched between her fingers. She'd driven all this way for nothing.

  Not that she even knew what she would say to Serena, something about the letter, something about Keith's death, something...

  A man came jogging down the path dressed in tight black bicycle shorts and a peach-colored tank top. He looked to be in his early thirties and was in great shape with lean runner's legs, a broad chest, sexy mustache and hair almost long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail.

  Maggie couldn't help but smooth down the skirt of the floral sundress she'd exchanged for the jeans she usually wore. Her hair was actually brushed, and she'd even worn lipstick. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't give her a second look.

  She was wrong. The man smiled at Maggie and slowed his pace as he approached Serena's town house. "If you're waiting for Serena, you're going to have a long wait."

  "I am?" Maggie asked as he jogged in a small circle in front of her. "Is she away?"