Another shiver of fear shot through her and she gave up. It was stupid to think she could stay here, stupider to make herself when she was jumping at shadows.
Grabbing the suitcase she had unpacked just the day before, she yanked clothes out of her closet and threw them in without so much as a second glance. Moving quickly, she added her toiletries case, blow dryer and a couple pairs of shoes. What had she been thinking coming back here today? She should have known better. While she’d planned to return to Kevin’s bayou tomorrow, after the storm had passed and she’d gained some perspective, she couldn’t sit here fighting old and new demons for one second longer.
She needed to see him. Serena refused to question herself, refused to deal with why she so desperately wanted to be with Kevin. She only knew that if she stayed in her lonely apartment much longer she’d go insane. And the only other place she wanted to be right now was at Kevin’s, basking in the warmth and safety he offered without reservation.
Dragging her suitcase down to her car, she dropped it into the trunk and climbed behind the wheel seconds before the sky opened up. Ignoring the danger and the streets that were already beginning to fill with water, Serena negotiated her way onto the highway and headed toward the swamps.
Lightning slashed the sky and rain buffeted her car. The windshield wipers barely made a dent in the water pouring from the sky and it took all of Serena’s concentration just to keep the car on the road.
Despite the risk, she was absurdly grateful to the storm. She had dreaded the three-hour drive out to Kevin’s and the time it would give her to think. But the raging storm held all of her attention; it took all her strength and skill just to keep the car moving forward. There was nothing left over for thinking, even as the three-hour drive stretched to four and beyond.
The storm abated just as Serena pulled off the highway and onto the private bayou road that would take her to Kevin. She spotted his driveway amid the lush vegetation of the swamps and gratefully turned left, taking the winding, gravel-covered road up to his house.
* * *
“I don’t know where she went, Steve, and I don’t know why she’s not answering her cell phone.” Kevin thrust a hand through his hair, frustration and worry drumming through him. “She told me she was heading back to Baton Rouge for a few days to develop film. Maybe she’s too busy to answer the phone.”
“If it was you, I could understand that. But Serena doesn’t have a temperamental bone in her body, Kevin. Clients like her make up for having clients like you.”
Kevin snorted. “You knew what you were getting when you chased me down, so don’t give me your poor little agent routine. I was doing fine on my own.”
“You were getting scalped, selling your work for peanuts! That’s hardly fine.”
“Sure it is. I might not have been rich, but I was free to do whatever I wanted, unencumbered, with no monkey on my back demanding more and more from me. Seriously, Steve, I don’t know why I keep you around.”
“You keep me around because when I first met you, you could barely afford to pay for your materials, let alone have anything left over to feed yourself. If nothing else, I’ve given you the means to buy more Twinkies than any man will ever need.”
He inclined his head. “There is that.”
“Yes, there is. And it should make up for any aggravation my small interference causes you.”
“Small?” Kevin snorted. “World wars have caused less aggravation than you. But you’ve grown on me, so I guess I can’t fire you.”
“Be still my heart,” Steve replied drily.
Kevin glanced up in time to see a car turn onto the long road leading to the house. Frowning, he watched it creep up his muddy driveway, swerving numerous times to avoid potholes. Every time his mother came she complained about the driveway, asking when he was going to get it fixed. But he liked it—it kept all but the most determined people away from his door, doing more to guard his privacy than a two-hundred-pound Rottweiler ever could.
Whoever it was wasn’t noticeably discouraged by the unwelcoming road—something he would be more than happy to remedy. He was in a foul mood and definitely had no use for company. Taking his angst out on an unsuspecting tourist definitely had some appeal.
He’d been miserable since Serena left, anger and desire gnawing at his stomach, making it impossible to work, to sleep, to eat. He’d focused on the anger, ignored the desire, and spent his rage on physical activities. Which is why he now had enough firewood cut to last him through the next three winters, his kitchen and family room were freshly painted and in about three months, he’d have one hell of a garden. What he didn’t have, however, was one piece of work even close to decent.
Steve continued to prattle on the other end of the phone, but Kevin was beyond listening as he stared with narrow eyes at the car, preparing to toss the driver out on his ear. But as it came closer and closer to the house, he finally realized that the car creeping up the lane was a Volvo. A gray Volvo. Serena.
“I’ll talk to you later, Steve,” he interrupted, hanging up on his friend and agent without waiting for a response.
Tension he hadn’t known he was carrying eased slowly from his shoulders and the lead weight that had settled on his chest three days before suddenly disappeared, making it much easier to breathe. She’d come back. Wiping his suddenly sweaty palms—who would have believed it—on his ratty jeans, he headed down the porch steps to greet her.
The car had stopped a few yards away from his front door and Kevin crossed the distance easily, oblivious to the mud. He wrenched the car door open, desperate to see her, to touch her, whether she wanted him to or not. She’d had no business driving through the storm, and he would give her hell about it, but first he wanted to look at her. Just look.
He reached a hand in to help Serena out of the car—proper manners had been beaten into him by his mother and years later he was hard put to forget them—even with this stubborn, distant woman who had turned him inside out from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.
Serena grasped his hands, allowed him to ease her from the car, and his first good look at her had his hands tightening on hers in alarm.
“Mon Dieu, bebe! Etes-vous blessé? Are you hurt? Did you have an accident?” His heart raced as he skimmed his hands over her lightly, looking for injuries. She looked like hell. Her face was drawn, her eyes sunken pools of misery, her body shaking like a leaf.
“I’m fine.” Her chin lifted at his snort of disbelief. “It was a long ride and the storm was bad.”
Momentarily distracted, Kevin answered, “You had no business driving up in a storm like this. You could have been killed. As it is, you look like death warmed over.”
If possible her pallor grew even more pronounced, and he cursed himself. She was obviously scared to death—he didn’t need to rub it in.
He took a deep breath, shocked to realize he was trembling. Because they both needed a moment to regroup, he went around to the trunk to get her bag—determined to rein in his rampaging emotions.
“I had to see you.” Her glorious voice was quiet but steady.
His eyes flew to hers. “What did you say?”
She shrugged, an uncomfortable motion. “I wanted to be here. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
He studied her, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Exactly what game are you playing, Serena?”
“I’m not playing anything.” This time her voice trembled, despite herself.
“Then why the sudden change of tune?” His voice rose and he was helpless to stop it. “Three days ago you made it completely clear that you wanted nothing more to do with me outside of the book. Yet here you are, back early, claiming you couldn’t stay away?”
He shook his head. “I just don’t get you.”
“I—” Her voice broke and she closed her eyes, as if the simple act of speaking to him was too much to handle. “I don’t mean to be …” Her head dropped and he saw, for the first time, the glimmer of tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Serena, what’s wrong?” He dropped the bag in the mud, was at her side instantly. “What happened to you in Baton Rouge?”
She shook her head, defeat in every line of her body. “I can’t …”
“Look at me.” Putting a hand under her chin, he tilted her head up until he could look her in the eye. He fought to keep his tone gentle, even as rage pounded viciously through his system. Someone had hurt her, badly. Gone was the cool, collected woman who had everything together. In her place was the lost child he’d glimpsed only once, the little girl searching for comfort in the middle of a storm. “What happened?”
Tears poured silently down her face as she wordlessly shook her head. With a muttered curse Kevin pulled her against him, shocked anew at how cold she was. He kept her body pressed to his as he grabbed the suitcase in his free hand and propelled her toward the house.
He helped her climb the stairs, fought the urge to simply sweep her up in his arms and carry her the rest of the way to the couch.
He didn’t release her until they reached the comfort of the family room. Directing her toward the sofa, he commented, “I’ll put this in your room and then make some tea. Get comfortable and I’ll be back in a minute.”
Kevin pulled his arm away and watched, shocked, as Serena’s knees gave way and she crumpled soundlessly to the floor.
“What the hell?” Scooping her up, he plopped down in a leather recliner, Serena cradled on his lap. Strangled sounds, horrifying in their intensity, worked their way out of her throat. Shocked, devastated, he rocked her, not knowing what else to do.
“C’est tout le juste, bebe. C’est tout le juste. Je vous ai, amour. It’s okay now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you now. Just relax.” He leaned forward, brushed a kiss against her temple, and just like that, she shattered.
Sobs, deep and brutal, broke the silence of the bayou, shocking him once again with their intensity. Her hands fisted in his torn T-shirt, clawing his chest even as her hot tears burned against his neck.
Minutes ticked by, one after the other as Serena’s heart broke. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, with his hands gently soothing her painful, bitter tears. Didn’t care. But the storm finally passed and while her sobs grew quieter and quieter, her body still shivered with each breath she took. He reached behind him, snagged the blanket he always kept on the back of the couch and covered her. They continued to rock as the tears dried on her face and her shudders grew more and more infrequent.
“I’m not usually a basket case.” Her glorious voice was more hoarse than usual, scratchy from the long crying jag.
“Who says you’re one now?” he asked, his voice more gentle than he would have believed possible.
She laughed, sadly, and pressed her face more firmly against his chest. She didn’t speak for a long time and he couldn’t bring himself to press her. If she told him, it would be because she wanted to.
Finally, when he was just about to give up hope, she spoke again. “My twin sister was murdered almost eleven years ago. Today was the parole hearing for the man who killed her.”
* * *
She was gone. Rage threatened to strangle him before he could get a handle on it. With a bellow of fury he threw the stupid fast-food cup as hard as he could and got a strange sort of satisfaction from watching Serena’s favorite diet soda drip slowly down her door. It looked almost red in the slowly coming twilight, and the image of blood—Serena’s blood—turned him on hard and fast. He tamped down on the reaction, deeming it unacceptable in the present circumstances, and concentrated on the problem.
If she wasn’t here, where was she?
Her mother’s? He discounted the idea immediately. From the moment Sandra had died, Serena’s relationship with her mother had been strained at best, outright hostile at worst. It was the same with her older brother. Tragedy and crisis had a tendency to pull families together, but something about this one had ripped Serena and her family apart.
Grabbing the suitcase she had unpacked just the day before, she yanked clothes out of her closet and threw them in without so much as a second glance. Moving quickly, she added her toiletries case, blow dryer and a couple pairs of shoes. What had she been thinking coming back here today? She should have known better. While she’d planned to return to Kevin’s bayou tomorrow, after the storm had passed and she’d gained some perspective, she couldn’t sit here fighting old and new demons for one second longer.
She needed to see him. Serena refused to question herself, refused to deal with why she so desperately wanted to be with Kevin. She only knew that if she stayed in her lonely apartment much longer she’d go insane. And the only other place she wanted to be right now was at Kevin’s, basking in the warmth and safety he offered without reservation.
Dragging her suitcase down to her car, she dropped it into the trunk and climbed behind the wheel seconds before the sky opened up. Ignoring the danger and the streets that were already beginning to fill with water, Serena negotiated her way onto the highway and headed toward the swamps.
Lightning slashed the sky and rain buffeted her car. The windshield wipers barely made a dent in the water pouring from the sky and it took all of Serena’s concentration just to keep the car on the road.
Despite the risk, she was absurdly grateful to the storm. She had dreaded the three-hour drive out to Kevin’s and the time it would give her to think. But the raging storm held all of her attention; it took all her strength and skill just to keep the car moving forward. There was nothing left over for thinking, even as the three-hour drive stretched to four and beyond.
The storm abated just as Serena pulled off the highway and onto the private bayou road that would take her to Kevin. She spotted his driveway amid the lush vegetation of the swamps and gratefully turned left, taking the winding, gravel-covered road up to his house.
* * *
“I don’t know where she went, Steve, and I don’t know why she’s not answering her cell phone.” Kevin thrust a hand through his hair, frustration and worry drumming through him. “She told me she was heading back to Baton Rouge for a few days to develop film. Maybe she’s too busy to answer the phone.”
“If it was you, I could understand that. But Serena doesn’t have a temperamental bone in her body, Kevin. Clients like her make up for having clients like you.”
Kevin snorted. “You knew what you were getting when you chased me down, so don’t give me your poor little agent routine. I was doing fine on my own.”
“You were getting scalped, selling your work for peanuts! That’s hardly fine.”
“Sure it is. I might not have been rich, but I was free to do whatever I wanted, unencumbered, with no monkey on my back demanding more and more from me. Seriously, Steve, I don’t know why I keep you around.”
“You keep me around because when I first met you, you could barely afford to pay for your materials, let alone have anything left over to feed yourself. If nothing else, I’ve given you the means to buy more Twinkies than any man will ever need.”
He inclined his head. “There is that.”
“Yes, there is. And it should make up for any aggravation my small interference causes you.”
“Small?” Kevin snorted. “World wars have caused less aggravation than you. But you’ve grown on me, so I guess I can’t fire you.”
“Be still my heart,” Steve replied drily.
Kevin glanced up in time to see a car turn onto the long road leading to the house. Frowning, he watched it creep up his muddy driveway, swerving numerous times to avoid potholes. Every time his mother came she complained about the driveway, asking when he was going to get it fixed. But he liked it—it kept all but the most determined people away from his door, doing more to guard his privacy than a two-hundred-pound Rottweiler ever could.
Whoever it was wasn’t noticeably discouraged by the unwelcoming road—something he would be more than happy to remedy. He was in a foul mood and definitely had no use for company. Taking his angst out on an unsuspecting tourist definitely had some appeal.
He’d been miserable since Serena left, anger and desire gnawing at his stomach, making it impossible to work, to sleep, to eat. He’d focused on the anger, ignored the desire, and spent his rage on physical activities. Which is why he now had enough firewood cut to last him through the next three winters, his kitchen and family room were freshly painted and in about three months, he’d have one hell of a garden. What he didn’t have, however, was one piece of work even close to decent.
Steve continued to prattle on the other end of the phone, but Kevin was beyond listening as he stared with narrow eyes at the car, preparing to toss the driver out on his ear. But as it came closer and closer to the house, he finally realized that the car creeping up the lane was a Volvo. A gray Volvo. Serena.
“I’ll talk to you later, Steve,” he interrupted, hanging up on his friend and agent without waiting for a response.
Tension he hadn’t known he was carrying eased slowly from his shoulders and the lead weight that had settled on his chest three days before suddenly disappeared, making it much easier to breathe. She’d come back. Wiping his suddenly sweaty palms—who would have believed it—on his ratty jeans, he headed down the porch steps to greet her.
The car had stopped a few yards away from his front door and Kevin crossed the distance easily, oblivious to the mud. He wrenched the car door open, desperate to see her, to touch her, whether she wanted him to or not. She’d had no business driving through the storm, and he would give her hell about it, but first he wanted to look at her. Just look.
He reached a hand in to help Serena out of the car—proper manners had been beaten into him by his mother and years later he was hard put to forget them—even with this stubborn, distant woman who had turned him inside out from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.
Serena grasped his hands, allowed him to ease her from the car, and his first good look at her had his hands tightening on hers in alarm.
“Mon Dieu, bebe! Etes-vous blessé? Are you hurt? Did you have an accident?” His heart raced as he skimmed his hands over her lightly, looking for injuries. She looked like hell. Her face was drawn, her eyes sunken pools of misery, her body shaking like a leaf.
“I’m fine.” Her chin lifted at his snort of disbelief. “It was a long ride and the storm was bad.”
Momentarily distracted, Kevin answered, “You had no business driving up in a storm like this. You could have been killed. As it is, you look like death warmed over.”
If possible her pallor grew even more pronounced, and he cursed himself. She was obviously scared to death—he didn’t need to rub it in.
He took a deep breath, shocked to realize he was trembling. Because they both needed a moment to regroup, he went around to the trunk to get her bag—determined to rein in his rampaging emotions.
“I had to see you.” Her glorious voice was quiet but steady.
His eyes flew to hers. “What did you say?”
She shrugged, an uncomfortable motion. “I wanted to be here. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
He studied her, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Exactly what game are you playing, Serena?”
“I’m not playing anything.” This time her voice trembled, despite herself.
“Then why the sudden change of tune?” His voice rose and he was helpless to stop it. “Three days ago you made it completely clear that you wanted nothing more to do with me outside of the book. Yet here you are, back early, claiming you couldn’t stay away?”
He shook his head. “I just don’t get you.”
“I—” Her voice broke and she closed her eyes, as if the simple act of speaking to him was too much to handle. “I don’t mean to be …” Her head dropped and he saw, for the first time, the glimmer of tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Serena, what’s wrong?” He dropped the bag in the mud, was at her side instantly. “What happened to you in Baton Rouge?”
She shook her head, defeat in every line of her body. “I can’t …”
“Look at me.” Putting a hand under her chin, he tilted her head up until he could look her in the eye. He fought to keep his tone gentle, even as rage pounded viciously through his system. Someone had hurt her, badly. Gone was the cool, collected woman who had everything together. In her place was the lost child he’d glimpsed only once, the little girl searching for comfort in the middle of a storm. “What happened?”
Tears poured silently down her face as she wordlessly shook her head. With a muttered curse Kevin pulled her against him, shocked anew at how cold she was. He kept her body pressed to his as he grabbed the suitcase in his free hand and propelled her toward the house.
He helped her climb the stairs, fought the urge to simply sweep her up in his arms and carry her the rest of the way to the couch.
He didn’t release her until they reached the comfort of the family room. Directing her toward the sofa, he commented, “I’ll put this in your room and then make some tea. Get comfortable and I’ll be back in a minute.”
Kevin pulled his arm away and watched, shocked, as Serena’s knees gave way and she crumpled soundlessly to the floor.
“What the hell?” Scooping her up, he plopped down in a leather recliner, Serena cradled on his lap. Strangled sounds, horrifying in their intensity, worked their way out of her throat. Shocked, devastated, he rocked her, not knowing what else to do.
“C’est tout le juste, bebe. C’est tout le juste. Je vous ai, amour. It’s okay now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you now. Just relax.” He leaned forward, brushed a kiss against her temple, and just like that, she shattered.
Sobs, deep and brutal, broke the silence of the bayou, shocking him once again with their intensity. Her hands fisted in his torn T-shirt, clawing his chest even as her hot tears burned against his neck.
Minutes ticked by, one after the other as Serena’s heart broke. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, with his hands gently soothing her painful, bitter tears. Didn’t care. But the storm finally passed and while her sobs grew quieter and quieter, her body still shivered with each breath she took. He reached behind him, snagged the blanket he always kept on the back of the couch and covered her. They continued to rock as the tears dried on her face and her shudders grew more and more infrequent.
“I’m not usually a basket case.” Her glorious voice was more hoarse than usual, scratchy from the long crying jag.
“Who says you’re one now?” he asked, his voice more gentle than he would have believed possible.
She laughed, sadly, and pressed her face more firmly against his chest. She didn’t speak for a long time and he couldn’t bring himself to press her. If she told him, it would be because she wanted to.
Finally, when he was just about to give up hope, she spoke again. “My twin sister was murdered almost eleven years ago. Today was the parole hearing for the man who killed her.”
* * *
She was gone. Rage threatened to strangle him before he could get a handle on it. With a bellow of fury he threw the stupid fast-food cup as hard as he could and got a strange sort of satisfaction from watching Serena’s favorite diet soda drip slowly down her door. It looked almost red in the slowly coming twilight, and the image of blood—Serena’s blood—turned him on hard and fast. He tamped down on the reaction, deeming it unacceptable in the present circumstances, and concentrated on the problem.
If she wasn’t here, where was she?
Her mother’s? He discounted the idea immediately. From the moment Sandra had died, Serena’s relationship with her mother had been strained at best, outright hostile at worst. It was the same with her older brother. Tragedy and crisis had a tendency to pull families together, but something about this one had ripped Serena and her family apart.
