The girl most likely to… Read online

  OK. Kat sat up straight, readying herself for whatever more he had to say.

  Because what I want is the twenty years you stole from me, all those years that my son was a baby, then a kid, then a young man. How's a lawyer going to get me that?

  Kat's eyes remained steely, but her chin began to quiver. I did what I had to do, Riley. I'll be right back. She hopped up and ran into the adjoining bedroom, Riley catching a glimpse of that huge bed as he followed her movement. God, he wanted to throw Kat up on that high mattress and devour her until two decades' worth of emptiness had been filled up with passion. Love.

  He still loved her. After all the damage she'd done to his life, he still loved her. It was as if seeing her again flipped a switch in his soul, adjusting the setting back to the way he was when he was sixteen, full of passion and dreams. It was hard to believe, but he'd just lost his temper! He was practically drooling on Kat, he wanted her so badly.

  He was thawing out. He was coming alive.

  Then she was back, standing at his side. This is the only photo I have with me. It's his high school graduation picture. You can keep it. I put his cell number on the back. I'll send you more.

  Riley cradled the wallet-sized photo in his palm, almost afraid to look.

  The instant his eyes made contact with the image, it felt like the rest of the world peeled away in layers, leaving only the core of his soulthis teenager in a clearly uncomfortable suit and tie, with too-long black curls and intelligent blue eyes. If Riley didn't know better, he'd think he was looking at Matt, circa 1992.

  Oh God, Riley whispered. That's really my boy.

  I didn't realize how much he looked like you until today. Kat's voice sounded far away as she settled back in her chair. I have to tell you, I took one look at you at the construction site and Riley's head dropped. He couldn't carry the weight of the grief anymore, and he cried. Kat's hand reached across the space between them and she stroked his knee.

  I am so sorry, Riley.

  He looked up, not caring that she saw him this way. You could have found a way to tell me. He let the tears fall down his face. You underestimated the hell out of me, and you cheated me out of my own life, /our/ life! Who's going to give me back the twenty years I could have had with /you/?

  Kat's eyes got wide.

  Fuck this. Riley stood up. This was no time for caution or reasonhe'd spent twenty years hog-tied by caution and reason. Riley glanced once more at the face of his child, tucked the photo into his pants pocket, and did what had to be done.

  He pulled her to her feet and held her by her upper arms. Damn you, Kat.

  He pressed his mouth to hers. There was so much hunger in his attack that she yelped in surprise. But she gave in. Within seconds they were feeding at each other, clutching at each other, the tears flowing, moans of desperation filling the room.

  Kat managed to move her mouth from under his long enough to gasp, I hate you for throwing me away like you did!

  I hate you for keeping the truth from mefor twenty fucking years, Kat!

  How could you /do/ that?

  Their mouths went back to work. Kat's hands were all over the buttons of his shirt. She was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his chinos. He had his hands in her hair, then up under the hem of her sweatshirt and little tank top, and his hands were on her breasts. Riley groaned as soon as his palms covered her nipples. He remembered this. His heart and his body remembered this well.

  I used to love you so much, Kat whispered.

  I loved you, too.

  You were my whole life, she said.

  You were mine.

  I'm not sure I should be doing this.

  I /know/ I shouldn't.

  Riley picked her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. With one hand he grabbed his pants to keep them from puddling to the floor, then staggered through the double doors into the bedroom. He threw her on the bed, ripped off his clothes, and got a leg up on the bed frame so he could dive on top of her.

  I am so fucking angry with you, he said, tearing her pajama pants off her body.

  I hated you! I hate you still! Kat reached for him, her nails digging into his biceps, her poker face gone. I was so lonely! You were the only thing I had to hold on to! Do you have any idea how lost I was? I've been lost this whole time, right until right this second. Why didn't you run after me? /Why couldn't you find us?/ Riley reached under her soft body and gathered her to him. He kissed her. He tried to take away the pain with that kiss, heal her, make everything OK if only for that instant.

  Kat pulled her mouth away from his and whispered in his ear, Please, Riley. Don't break my heart again. I'm afraid you're going to break my heart again.

  Never. He kissed her throat, collarbone, licked the swell of her breasts.

  We're making a mistake. She gasped from the pleasure of his tongue flicking on her nipple. This will be too hard.

  The only thing that's hard is me. Riley raised up on his elbows and let his cock nudge between her legs. She looked into his face, unsure, vulnerable, and filled with desire.

  I need you inside me, she whispered. I'm going to die if I can't feel you inside me.

  That was all he needed to hear. With a single thrust he was in deep.

  Immediately, the heat of the pleasure began to burn away layers of pain and uncertainty, and he knewthis woman and her boy were his life. They'd always been. This woman was his destiny.

  Riley insisted that the lights stay on. He didn't want one more precious second lost, one image obscured. They were together againthis time it wasn't some fantasyand through sex and love they would suck the marrow out of their lives once more.

  SIX

  Kat lay curled on her left side, eyes open just enough to observe Riley move through the bedroom, bending and scooping up pieces of his clothing as he wentgrabbing a sock here, snatching his boxers over there, unearthing his slacks from beneath the comforter that had been thrown onto the floor at some point in the night. Kat wished she could smile as she watched him. She wanted to be filled with a sense of warm well-being. She wanted to believe that everything would work itself out, that she hadn't just made the most ginormous mistake of her life.

  Since all that was beyond her abilities, she opted to remain very still.

  She didn't want Riley to know she was awake, because he'd probably want to talk. He'd want to know how she felt and what their next step should be, questions she had no answers for. So she remained quiet and allowed herself the luxury of worry-free looking. As it turned out, watching Riley move around the room, naked and free, his fine, taut flesh on display, was nearly as pleasurable as touching him.

  He'd always been put together elegantly. Tall and slim, long fingers and long legs. He moved with economical grace, never a wasted motion. She remembered watching him on the basketball court all those years ago.

  This body right here in this bedroom was the same body. Taller by a few inches. Leaner. But it was the body she remembered. And the oddest thought occurred to KatRiley Bohland would be the only man she would ever see naked at sixteen and then again at thirty-seven.

  She didn't want to think of how many women had gotten a look at the goods in the years between.

  Where the hell is my other sock?

  Kat stifled a giggle. Riley's brow had creased in a frown as he mumbled to himself, dragged his fingers through his short black curls, and scanned the room in vain. She watched the muscles in his butt flex and relax with each movement, and her belly grew hot. She wanted him again.

  In any normal circumstance, she would be in a coma by now. But obviously, there was nothing normal about this morning. She'd come back to Persuasion. She'd found him. She'd told him about Aidan. They'd spent the last seven hours devouring each other in this monstrosity of a bed, like they'd been starving for each other.

  Oh, fuck it. Riley yanked on his blue pinstripe boxers and then his chinos. He zipped the fly but left the belt buckle dangling. He pulled a white undershirt over his head, w
hipped a tie around his neck, and shoved his arms into the dress shirt, leaving it unbuttoned at the front. He slipped his bare feet into his loafers and stared at the single sock for a moment in puzzlement, then shoved it in his pants pocket. Next, Kat watched him clip a pager, a cell phone, and a digital organizer onto his belt. Even with all the twenty-first-century nerd accessories, Riley Bohland was too damn sexy for West Virginiaor any other state, for that matter.

  Kat couldn't help it. She let out a sigh. Immediately, she shifted in bed in the hopes that he'd think her sigh had come from the depths of sleep.

  Riley stopped moving. After a moment, she felt him climb onto the bed and lower his face near hers. He put his lips to her ear and whispered, I'm on call as of three minutes ago. He kissed her cheek gently, lingering to breathe her in. The gesture felt impossibly tender to Kat, and full of affection. She was just about to throw her arms around him when he said, Gotta go. We'll talk later.

  In a flash, he'd let himself out of the suite. Kat sat up in bed, staring absently into the sitting room, wondering if all of Riley's morning-afters were so abrupt. She yawned, reaching under her left thigh to find out what was pressed into her flesh, and her hand came up with the missing sock. She studied it dangling from her fingers, suddenly quite lonely.

  Kat flopped back onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. She might only have an associate's degree, but she'd definitely earned her Ph.D. in life in the last twenty years, and her research results were consistentmen would abuse you, use you, suck you dry, or sell your grandmother's jewelry on eBay, but they would never be all you needed them to be. Virgil Cavanaugh and Riley Bohland were her firstand most effectiveteachers. And she'd learned her lessons well.

  Yet here she was. Age thirty-seven. Alone in a strange bed and holding one sock.

  This is a disgrace. It's after seven in the morning and he's just now leaving? He didn't even bother to get completely dressed! My God, Maddieyou completely screwed up.

  Carrie got no response from Madeline but heard the loud clack and bustle of the B and B kitchen in the background.

  Madeline? Are you there?

  I'm in the middle of making a batch of cranberry-orange muffins. I'll have to get back to you.

  Carrie huffed in disbelief. Muffins? You're worried about stupid muffins? I am telling you that my manmy /fiancй,/ Madelinejust spent the entire night in that woman's room, and you're fixated on a pan of muffins?

  After a moment of nothing but more kitchen noise, Madeline cleared her throat. Please don't tell me you're still sitting out there. Did you sleep in your car? Because if you did, /that's/ fixation.

  Does it matter? I'd camp out on the polar ice cap if Riley asked me to.

  Uh, Carrie? The sound of dishes knocking around in the sink nearly drowned out Madeline's comments. I hate to point this out, but Riley is not technically your fiancй anymore. He hasn't been for over a year. And he didn't ask you to pull an all-nighter in your Volvo. Besides, don't you have to be at work soon?

  Carrie could not believe what she'd just heard. After all she'd done for that woman! Apparently, Madeline Bowman had gotten a little taste of sweet success and had turned huffy on her. Carrie switched the cell phone to her other ear and smirked. So how's it working out with Matt?

  What do you mean?

  What I mean is, are you enjoying dating the second hottest man in all of Randolph County? And have you forgotten who got your business where it is today?

  Hold on a second.

  Carrie heard rustling, a door closing, and then silence. Madeline began hissing a loud whisper. God, Carrie! It's not my place to stop Riley from doing whatever he wants to do. He's a grown man and I'm just a B and B owner, not a prison guard!

  Carrie looked heavenward, summoning patience. She was beginning to regret ever booking this ungrateful cow's inn for the last year's rural health luncheon.

  And I know you encouraged Matt to ask me out after my divorce, but really, it's not like you introduced usour mothers did that at the sandbox when we were toddlers!

  Carrie gazed out the windshield at the row of adorable little craftsman-style houses, all built before the depression, when the coal mine was in full swing. It was admirable the way the owners had meticulously restored the homes and fixed up the yards.

  Besides, Matt hasn't asked me out in months. He's moved on.

  That's too bad. Carrie had grown tired of this conversation. Where are you right now, Madeline?

  In the pantry. The couple staying in the Silver Birch minisuite is already in the dining room, waiting like hyenas for me to finish setting up for breakfast. I didn't want them to hear me.

  I see.

  Can we finish this conversation later?

  Carrie's mouth fell open at what she was seeing. Her breath began to come fast and hard. Unbelievable! The teen sleaze queen herself had just bounced out of Cherry Hill's front doors, sporting a pair of black yoga pants, a very chic little jacket, and a postcoital grin. Oh, it was Kat Cavanaugh, all right. Carrie had seen pictures of the junior jezebel in Riley's old photo albums. She must have stumbled into money somewhere.

  Maybe she was a call girl. Carrie made a mental note to warn Riley that he was in the clutches of a professional.

  Carrie?

  What?

  I really have to go.

  Did I tell you that I'm setting up a regional health-care conference for the spring? I plan to present my study results at the new clinic's community center.

  Really?

  Yes.

  That's nice, I guess. I'll talk to you after As always, you are failing to see the bigger picture, Maddie. The conference will go an entire week. As Carrie spoke into the cell phone, she watched Kat Cavanaugh turn the corner. She was pretty. She had a nice body and a quality haircut. Carrie hated her. She wanted her dead.

  A whole week?

  Every room in your place will be booked every night. Carrie allowed her target to get a half a block up Main Street, then put the car in drive to follow her, making sure to pull to the curb every couple blocks to stay inconspicuous. I have guest speakers coming in from all over the East Coast. You could get some valuable exposure.

  Carrie checked her watch. She would have to call Alice and let her know that she wouldn't be in until after lunch, and that they needed to look into the possibility of throwing together some kind of small conference around the time her study results were released.

  All right, Carrie. Madeline sounded defeated. What do you want?

  Just the tiniest little favor. It's so small, it's almost nothing, really.

  Kat pulled her jacket across her chest, tucking her hands beneath her arms to stay warm. Though the sun was out, she'd forgotten how chilly early autumn mornings could be up in the mountains.

  She walked at a steady pace, letting her eyes take in Persuasion's Main Street district, a place at once familiar and exotic. Most of Kat's life had taken place in only two geographic locations: this small Appalachian town and the working-class streets of Baltimore. Her only vacations had been the annual jaunts she took with Phyllis and Aidan to the boardwalk at Ocean City and the lone lost weekend spent with Nola back in 1991 in Virginia Beach, where Nola had met the man who would become her first and shortest-lived husband.

  After a quickie wedding and an even quicker divorce, Nola made this request of Kat: Promise me that no matter how ass-kickin' hot he may be, you will never again allow me to fall for a man with a beer can collection.

  Kat hugged herself, taking in the changes of her hometown. It seemed that several of the old brick storefronts had been torn down, and most everything that remained had been spruced up. The old Rialto movie theater was still in business, advertising a teen slasher flick and a romantic comedy. The five-and-dime appeared to be going strong, though it now referred to itself as a dollar store. There were coffeehouses and bookstores where there used to be pharmacies and insurance offices, a yoga and Pilates studio where there'd once been a candy store, and a bustling copy and express-shipping
business in the building that used to house Millhouse Fashions. That's where Kat stopped.

  She stared into the plate-glass windows, remembering the day her mother brought her here. They'd come to buy the red wool dress coat with the black velvet Peter Pan collar that Kat would wear from third to fifth grades. She'd loved that coat, and it wasn't due to the style, because it was insanely old-fashioned. It was what it representedone of the few days she'd ever spent alone in her mother's company, with her full attention. On that day, Kat felt treasured, for no other reason than she was her mother's daughter.

  Kat closed her eyes to hold on to the memory. But it slipped away, immediately replaced by the dull ache of loss. Today was the first day she'd woken up knowing with certainty that she'd never see her mother again.

  Kat glanced up at the sound of laughter. Three college girls were headed her way, all with long straight hair parted down the middle, heads held high, walking the walk of brazen confidence. Kat smiled at them. Good morning, she said.

  Good morning!

  She looked over her shoulder to watch them head into the coffee shop. In Kat's opinion, the single redeeming feature of Persuasion had always been the campus of Mountain Laurel College, and it pleased her to see that the regular influx of young people had kept the blood pumping in this town for the twenty years she'd been away.

  Kat continued on for a moment, then stopped in her tracks. In the display window of Wilson's Gallery of Fine Art, between a hand-woven shawl and a selection of pottery, was a style of sculpture she'd recognize anywhere. A small white card propped against the figure read: /Untitled No. 236, alpha gypsum and polymers, V. L. Cavanaugh, 2007./ She leaned her forehead against the cold glass and stared. Had her mother died just before he did this? Or had he come back from visiting her in the hospital and headed right to his studio? Either way, Kat could see the pain in the sculpture of a man's hands reaching upward and bursting into flames. As always, she wondered who would buy such a thing and place it somewhere to be admired. A Satan worshipper? Some aging hippie who remembered her dad's place in the Andy Warhol days of the New York art scene?