Leave it to Max (Lori's Classic Love Stories Volume 1) Page 11

  Hers answered, bumping against him in uncomfortable yet intriguing ways. Her mouth became more frantic. Her fingers pulled at his shirt. Then her hands were against his skin, on his belly, across his chest. He moaned, cursed, and tried to pull away, but she fisted a hand in his hair and yanked him back.

  She was too reckless. Something was wrong. And while his big-mouth body screamed, Take her, his mind said, Huge mistake, and his heart whispered, Not like this.

  He kissed her softly when she kissed him hard, and he rubbed her back gently while she ran her short nails across the twitching muscles in his stomach. He even murmured soothing nonsense into her hair when she scraped her teeth across his chest.

  His lack of response finally penetrated, and she looked at him, wary and uncertain.

  Garrett brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Are you going to slap me?”

  The old Livy would have smiled. The new one should have slapped him. What neither one of them would ever have done was burst into tears.

  Chapter 9

  When was the last time she’d cried like this? Oh, there was the other night when Max was asleep with his brand-new cast. But that hardly counted. She always cried after serious bodily harm to her child. Call her a mother.

  But to cry in public was another matter. And to cry in front of Garrett Stark was a sin for which there was no redemption. However, Livy couldn’t seem to stop. Mainly because he said nothing, merely gathered her closer and let her weep as he nuzzled her hair.

  Wonder of wonders, she let him. Because she was so cold, she shook, yet when his warmth seeped into her icy skin, little by little the tremors stopped. His smell, though a treacherous, traitorous temptation, would ease her if she just closed her eyes and let herself be eased.

  “Hush,” he murmured, stroking, soothing. “It’s all over now. Nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

  Little did he know, what scared her the most was him. Because his strength was a trap and his comfort a lie. She couldn’t depend on him; she could only depend on herself. Nothing had changed. Even though it felt as though everything had.

  Livy extricated herself from Garrett’s arms. He let her go, though she could have sworn he clung just a little. Odd, since she was the one who’d needed comfort.

  Garrett was very good at giving comfort. Probably because he’d given it a hundred times before. He’d just never given it to her. She’d had no need of comfort that long-ago summer when the world had been her playground and the future full of promise. She hadn’t needed comfort until he’d gone.

  She’d continued to hope for months. The one thing that had killed the hope had been crying for him during a twenty-three hour labor and hearing only the sound of her own voice as an answer. Had it been then that she’d started to hate him? She couldn’t remember; she only knew that she did.

  She didn’t want to look into his face and see the desire she could still taste reflected there. She wanted him. So what? He was a beautiful man. He knew what to do with that mouth, those hands, his body. He’d been her first, and she’d heard a woman never forgot that. So far, she’d heard right.

  How could she have kissed him like that, touched him as if the intervening years had never been, as if all the pain had never happened, while her child waited for her at home? Because she’d been so afraid, and for a moment Garrett had made the fear go away.

  “I have to leave.” Livy started for the door and ran right into him.

  He grabbed her arms to steady her, then held on when she struggled. “Just wait a minute. We’re not finished.”

  “We were finished nine years ago.”

  “The existence of Max says differently.”

  “Let me go.”

  “Not yet.”

  Livy stopped struggling. What was the point? He was bigger and stronger than her, and if he chose to keep her here, he could. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  They stood toe-to-toe, nearly nose-to-nose. The only thing in the world right then was the two of them. The moment stretched, long and taut. Deep down where the past lived, she trembled.

  “Just what in Sam Hill is going on here, Livy?”

  Garrett shoved her behind him and faced the man who stood in the darkness of the hall. Garrett stood rigid and ready, like a dog that had been startled over a bone.

  Though Livy didn’t appreciate the comparison, even if it was her own, his able protection soothed her thundering heart. Despite his new fame and good fortune, Garrett had once lived on the edge. His years of drifting had prepared him for anything, and the sudden realization that no one, nothing, would get through him to hurt her or Max made an uncommon feeling of security flow through her.

  “Who are you?” Garrett demanded.

  “Step away from her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  When Kim had said she’d call the cops, Livy should have known she meant Detective Klein.

  Klein had played football for the Citadel, then spent eight years as a Marine—which explained his salt-and-pepper crew cut, as well as his stoic demeanor—before becoming a cop. The man was a mountain, and no one in town messed with him.

  “It’s okay.” Livy inched around her brand-new watchdog.

  He shoved her right back. No one but Garrett messed with a mountain, it seemed.

  “Mister, you’d better stop pushing her, or I’m gonna get testy.’’

  “You’d better tell me how you got in my house and then get right back out.’’

  “Door was open.”

  Garrett cursed. “I may as well put a revolving entrance out there. Thanks for stopping in. Now you can leave.”

  Klein laughed, a deep rich sound that Livy loved. He was a good man, a gentle man for all his size, and one terrific cop. From the moment she’d met him, she’d liked him.

  Perhaps it was the sadness that always hovered at the edges of his oddly light blue eyes and made her want to pat him on the top of the head, if she could reach it. Or maybe it was the fact that Klein was not a handsome man—not handsome being an understatement.

  Livy’s gaze touched upon Garrett. She had seen the underside of handsome and it wasn’t something she wanted to see again. If the measure of character was the homeliness of a face, then Klein was nearer to sainthood than anyone.

  Klein reached behind him, and Garrett tensed, ready to pounce. But the detective only brought out his badge, flipped it open, then shut. “Where’s the boy?”

  “Home, safe and sound. Why did you call the police, Livy?”

  “I didn’t.” She stepped from behind him, and this time he let her. “Kim?” she asked.

  Klein grunted. “She was mighty upset. You had your cell phone off again.”

  Livy carried her phone wherever she went, but only remembered to turn it on if she tried to make a call and had no power. With a child like Max, she needed to break that habit.

  Klein and Garrett sized each other up. Now they looked like two junkyard dogs circling, preparing to fight over her—that bone again. If Livy didn’t do something, she figured they’d start bumping chests and howling at the moon.

  She moved closer to Detective Klein. Garrett followed, and she gave him a “get lost” glare, which he ignored.

  “What was Max doing here?” Klein asked.

  “None of your business.”

  Livy could almost see the hair on the back of Garrett’s neck rise, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a growl. His aggressive stance went beyond annoyance with her, irritation over being interrupted or anger at having his home invaded against his will. Garrett seemed to have a problem with authority.

  Livy was an expert on that, having bailed her mother out of jail on countless occasions because of the same foible. She’d figured Max got his rebellious streak from Mama. Looked like the DNA strands for rebellion had come from both sides of the family.

  “Who is this guy?” Klein demanded.

  Livy opened her mouth, but Garrett answered, instead. “Garrett Stark.”

&nb
sp; “I wasn’t asking you.”

  “But I don’t mind answering.”

  Klein ignored him. “Kim said you’d come here searching for Max. Why?”

  Garrett answered for her again. “Because I’m—”

  Livy elbowed Garrett in the ribs. He doubled over and coughed. Klein’s eyes narrowed, his gaze jumping between the two of them.

  “He’s Garrett Stark,” she said.

  “I heard that. So what?”

  “The horror author.”

  “Good for him. But what does that have to do with Max?”

  Livy remained silent. She wasn’t any good at lying. Perhaps because she’d spent so much energy on her one big lie, she had little left for any more. She’d never seen that lack as anything but an asset. Juries and judges seemed to sense her sincerity. She did well in court. But in a situation like this… Sometimes Livy wished she could lie as well as the master standing next to her.

  Garrett’s palm cupped her elbow. “Max is interested in writing, so he came to me with questions.”

  Klein, not an idiot on any scale, stared at each in turn. “I find it hard to believe that Livy Frasier allowed her son to spend time with a stranger.”

  “I’m not a stranger.”

  The detective’s gaze touched on Garrett’s hand cupping Livy’s elbow. “Funny, that’s just what I was thinking.”

  Livy didn’t want Klein thinking anything. The man was like a bloodhound when it came to the scent of a secret.

  “Max left school in the middle of the day,” she blurted.

  “Which would explain why Kim was nuts when I called the office.”

  Livy stepped away from Garrett, radar beeping like a beacon at Klein’s words. “What do you mean you called the office? I thought Kim called you.”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  “Don’t play stalwart cop with me, Klein. Why did you call?”

  The detective sighed, shuffled his feet, and Livy knew. “What did she do this time?”

  “Who?” Garrett asked.

  “My mother.”

  Something in Klein’s gaze unnerved her, and Livy wished she hadn’t moved away from Garrett’s touch. The fact that she longed for the comfort she’d only just discovered him capable of, made her speak too sharply. “What happened?”

  “You’d better come to the station with me.”

  The funny black spots she’d seen earlier on the porch were back, and this time they were dancing. Unfortunately, there was no convenient chair for her to sit in, so the world did a nasty dip and twirl.

  Someone caught her by the shoulders. Even with her eyes closed, Livy knew Klein, not Garrett, had steadied her. The detective’s hands were strong yet fumbling. Gentle enough, but not the hands of a man who wanted anything more than to keep her from breaking her nose.

  “Tell her what happened before she faints,” Garrett snapped.

  “I never faint.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Shut up.”

  “She’s okay now, Klein. You can get your hands off of her.”

  Klein peered into Livy’s face with a half smile. “I don’t think I will just yet. What’s going on here, Livy? I’ve never seen you this jumpy, and with you that’s saying quite a bit.”

  “Nothing’s going on,” Garrett said.

  “That’s what they all say. Now, let the lady answer. Why are you so upset?”

  “Is my mother all right?”

  “She’s in jail.”

  Rosie wouldn’t be in jail if she was hurt or dying. “So all’s right with the world.”

  “Your mother’s in jail a lot?” Garrett’s voice was full of surprise and a healthy dose of wonder. That figured. Only Garrett would think a jailhouse gramma fascinating.

  “Define a lot.”

  Both Livy and Klein laughed. She must have looked better, because he let her go, though he didn’t move away.

  Klein sobered first. No surprise there. Though he had a beautiful laugh, he didn’t use it often enough.

  “It’s a bit more serious this time,” he said. “You need to come with me now, Livy. I’ll drive you.”

  “You’ll have to. I took a cab.”

  “I’ll take you,” Garrett offered. “We can talk in the car.”

  Livy didn’t even bother to look at him. “We were through.”

  His hand on her arm was as gentle as his voice. “We’ve never been through, and you know it.”

  If only he’d been rough and demanding; she would have been able to resist. She did, however, move away from his touch. “Detective, I’ll be right out.”

  “Yeah, beat it,” Garrett said.

  Klein eyed Garrett as he might a perpetrator caught red-handed. “Butt out, pretty boy.”

  “It’s all right, Klein.”

  The detective glanced at Livy. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Two minutes, and I’ll be there.”

  Klein still didn’t move until Livy gave him a tiny push.

  “Let me go with you,” Garrett said.

  “I’ve been dealing with Mama for years. I don’t need your help.”

  “You’ve never needed anyone’s help.”

  “That’s not true. Once, I needed yours.”

  He had the grace to wince. “I’m here now.”

  “Now is too late.”

  “If you don’t need me, then you don’t need the cop, either.”

  “If the cop offers his help, I’ll take it. Klein is one of the good guys.”

  “Which makes me one of the bad?”

  Livy had had enough. Dealing with a truant Max, a disappearing mother and a reappearing dead lover was too much for one woman to stand in a week. “You’re behaving like a jealous boyfriend, and you have no right.”

  “What rights do I have when it comes to you?”

  “None.”

  A flicker of hurt crossed his face, but she couldn’t afford to let that affect her.

  “You’re the mother of my child. I can’t forget that. I can’t stop thinking about it—”

  His voice was low and urgent; his words made something slick and weighty rumble within her.

  “I didn’t get to feel him kick. I never touched him beneath your skin. I missed all of it. How do you think that makes me feel?’’

  “Maybe the way I felt when you left me behind?” Again he had the grace to wince, but he wouldn’t drop the issue.

  “How did you feel?”

  “Alone, betrayed, worthless.”

  Those three words made the anger return, and Livy held on to it, let the feeling grow. She’d been angry at Garrett for a very long time. Anger was an emotion she understood. What she did not understand was the resurgence of lust for him, and the hint of something stronger, deeper and much more dangerous that she refused to put a name to.

  She could shove his body away with her hands, but to end this connection between them she would have to use words.

  “I meant nothing to you then. I don’t understand why you give a damn now.”

  The words fell between them, shattering any momentary bond they’d shared.

  “You believe that?”

  “Of course I believe that.” Livy started for the door.

  “You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  She hesitated; something in his voice made her want to believe, want to turn around and begin again what had never truly ended.

  Then a horn honked on the street, and the phone began to ring, a startling shriek. Livy’s inertia vanished, and she left Garrett behind as easily as he’d once left her.

  *

  Desperate for a distraction to keep him from doing something more foolish than he already had, Garrett answered the phone.

  “I’ve been calling every hour on the hour,” Andrew began.

  “Was that you? And here I thought all that ringing had to be the ghosts.”

  “Is that what the book is about? Ghosts?”

  “Okay.”

  Silence descende
d on the other end of the line. In Andrew’s case silence was rarely good.

  “I’m coming down there.”

  “Would you quit with that? I do not need a sitter. I especially do not need someone with an imagination deficit hanging around. You’ll frighten off all the creative ghostly vibrations.”

  Not to mention the Muse he’d completely forgotten about the moment his son had walked into the house.

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me the house I rented you is haunted.”

  “From what I hear, all the houses in Savannah are haunted.” Which only proved how far gone his sensitivity was. He hadn’t felt a thing but lonely since he’d moved into this place. If anyone should feel a ghost, that someone should be Garrett Stark.

  “You do know there’s no such thing as ghosts, don’t you, Garrett?”

  “You do know there’s more to this world than what we see, don’t you, Andrew?”

  “Of course. There’s the money I haven’t made yet.”

  Sometimes Garrett wondered if Andrew was kidding when he said stuff like that.

  If ghosts existed, Andrew would never see one because his world was confined to the tunnel of his vision, which made Garrett and him the perfect team. Because Garrett’s inner world was so large and unwieldy, he often had a hard time addressing the realities of life. Of course, his inner world was nonexistent lately, but Garrett would just keep that to himself.

  If it wasn’t for Andrew, he’d no doubt still be writing with the stub of pencil he’d sharpened with his pocketknife, on a legal pad he’d skipped breakfast to buy, in the middle of a grungy apartment in Miami.

  Those days had been tough, but there were times Garrett missed the cold hard bite of life. He wasn’t quite sure anymore how to get back some of the edge he’d had in the beginning. Another thing that had led him here.

  “You sound almost normal,” Andrew said. “But there’s something wrong. I can smell it.”

  “That’s not me. Have you been chewing up editors and stashing their mangled bodies in the closet again? You really have to stop that.”

  “You never let me have any fun.”