Expecting Thunder's Baby
Sheri WhiteFeather
Years after tragedy had torn them apart, Carrie Lipton was suddenly face-to-face with Thunder Trueno…and as attracted to him as ever.Thunder wanted her out of his system, a few weeks to defuse the passion between them. How could she dare refuse? After tumbling back into bed with her ex, Carrie found herself pregnant. Thunder demanded they marry but she feared their tumultuous history would only repeat itself. How could she dare accept?
Expecting Thunder’s Baby
Sheri WhiteFeather
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Coming Next Month
One
Thunder Trueno hadn’t seen Carrie Lipton, his ex-wife, in twenty years. Not that it should matter after all this time. They’d been kids then, high school sweethearts, eighteen-year-olds who’d got married because of the baby.
A baby that had never been. A miscarriage, he thought. His child. Her child. Their child.
He frowned at the brick walkway that led to Carrie’s door. She lived in a condominium that was located in the same desert town where they’d grown up. The Arizona land was vast and plentiful, with scattered ranches and pockets of suburban neighborhoods.
Thunder lived in Los Angeles now. He’d made a life for himself that didn’t include the past. Of course he came back every so often to visit his family, but he’d never contacted his ex-wife.
Not until today.
Still frowning, he rang the bell. He’d called ahead to let her know that he was stopping by, that he wanted to interview her about a case he was working on that involved a missing woman. Thunder co-owned SPEC, a company that offered a variety of personal protection and investigative services. Their conversation had been awkward, to say the least. She’d been shocked to hear from him.
When a man opened the door, Thunder’s scowl deepened. Who the hell was he? Carrie wasn’t married. Nor did she have a live-in lover. Thunder knew because he’d flat-out asked her when they’d spoken, albeit briefly, over the phone. He’d wanted to be prepared, to know what to expect. He didn’t like surprises. Yet here was some guy in her doorway.
He was as tall as Thunder, but with sandy-colored hair, blue eyes and a lanky build. Aside from their height, the two men didn’t look anything alike. Thunder was a full-blood from the White Mountain Apache Nation, with eyes almost as black as his hair. The other man was as Anglo as Anglo could be. He was dressed in business attire, but his tie was undone, an indication that he’d got cozy in Carrie’s condo.
Thunder knew he shouldn’t care. Carrie wasn’t his to care about anymore. Still, he wanted to knock Mr. Cozy straight on his ass.
“Where’s Carrie?” Thunder asked, not bothering to introduce himself.
Cozy didn’t reveal his name, either. But he wasn’t territorial, at least not in a tense way. His response was easy. “She had to run to the market. She’ll be back soon.”
Thunder didn’t say anything. He’d arrived a little early. But the other man didn’t seem to mind. His relaxed demeanor annoyed Thunder even more.
“You must be the ex-husband,” Cozy said. “Carrie told me about you.”
Thunder struggled to keep his attitude in check, to not let his frustration show. “She didn’t mention you.”
Cozy remained unaffected. “We haven’t been going out that long.”
Before Cozy could invite him inside, footsteps sounded on the walkway. Thunder turned around, sensing it was Carrie. The girl who’d panicked when she’d found out she was pregnant. The same girl who’d cried when she’d lost the baby. He wondered if she’d told Cozy about that, too.
Carrie stopped dead in her tracks. Then she just stood there, staring at Thunder, with two plastic grocery bags in her hands. She wore a polka-dot sundress and a pair of white sandals. Her brown hair was long and loose, just as silky as he remembered, with reddish highlights that hadn’t been there before. Her skin was a warm golden shade. Carrie tanned easily—she had some unregistered Cherokee blood. It was the first thing she’d told him on the day they’d met.
Her face had matured, he noticed. And so had her body. Her girlish hips were gone. She was fuller, rounder.
“You look different,” she said to him.
“So do you,” he responded. She’d grown into the sort of woman he would want to pick up in a bar and take home for a one-night stand. As a teenager, she’d been pretty. As an adult, she was sultry. Her lips were shiny and wet, which he could tell was from the cinnamon-colored lipgloss she wore, but the effect hit him straight in the gut.
He moved forward, intending to take the groceries from her. Then he realized what he was doing. This wasn’t his home. Or his wife.
When he stalled and glanced back at Cozy, the guy finally took his cue. “Oh, right. I’ll get those.” He grabbed the bags, and Carrie blinked at the man she was dating.
“Thank you,” she said. “I assume you met Thunder.”
He shook his head. “Not officially, no.”
She made the introduction. “Kevin Rivers. Thunder Trueno.”
Cozy—Kevin—shifted the groceries so they could do the proper thing and shake hands. “Thunder Thunder?” he asked.
Apparently, blond, blue-eyed Kevin knew how to speak Spanish. Trueno meant “Thunder.” “My real name is Mark. But no one calls me that.” Not even his parents. They’d given him the nickname.
“Got it,” Kevin said. “I won’t call you Mark, either.”
Thunder assessed the other man’s casual manner. Was he trying to drive Thunder crazy? Trying to prove that his and Carrie’s relationship was secure? That he didn’t perceive her ex-husband as a threat?
Bloody hell.
Thunder wanted to be a threat. He wanted to sweep Carrie back into his bed, even twenty years later.
“We should go inside,” she said.
Carrie led the way, with Kevin on her heels. Thunder went in last, irritated by his attraction to her and checking out the place where she lived.
The two-story condo featured tan carpeting, rattan furniture and prints of watercolors—seascapes—on the walls. A gas fireplace was flanked with white bricks.
Kevin moseyed into the kitchen and put the groceries on the counter. Then he returned to the living room and gave Carrie a kiss on the cheek.
“I should get going,” he said to her. “Will you stop by my motel room later?”
She nodded, and Thunder’s envy flared. The urge to knock Kevin on his ass returned.
The other man looked his way. “It was nice to meet you.”
Yeah, right. Cozy Kevin had got him by the balls. He jerked his chin in response. He didn’t trust himself to say anything.
Carrie walked Kevin to the door. They didn’t linger. A simple goodbye, and he was gone.
Thunder gazed at his ex, and silence engulfed the condo. She fidgeted with her highlighted hair, twisting the ends.
“Quit looking at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m still married to you.”
“You should have told me Kevin was going to be here.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation, Thunder.”
“Maybe not. But I asked you over the phone if you were with anyone. You could have been honest.”
“It isn’t serious.”
“Really?” He wanted to step forward, to crowd her, to get as close as he possibly could. “Then what’s the deal with the motel?”
“I have to work later. I manage my parents’ motel now.” She zeroed in on the groceries in the kitchen and went to put them away.
Refusing to drop the subject, he followed her. “That doesn’t explain why Kevin has a room there.”
She opened the fridge and put a bag of apples inside. A jar of mayonnaise went next, followed by some prepackaged lunch meat. “That’s where he stays when he’s in town. He’s a salesman for a pharmaceutical company.”
Thunder raised his eyebrows. “You’re dating a drug dealer?”
“Very funny.” She finished putting away the groceries and removed a red-labeled can from the cabinet. “Do you want coffee?”
He gave her a frustrated nod, then leaned against the counter. “Why did he ask you to stop by his room later?”
She shot him an exasperated look. “We plan on having dinner tonight. During my break.”
He couldn’t help himself. He grilled her as though she were a cheating spouse. “Are you sleeping with him?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not.” She went to the sink to fill the carafe with water. “We’re still getting to know each other.”
“And he’s okay with you putting him off? What a wuss.”
She heaved a sigh. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that some men know how to be friends with a woman.” She looked him square in the eye. “You’ve never grasped that concept.”
He frowned at her. “You and I were friends.”
“No we weren’t. All we had was sex.”
Her words stung, right down to the core. “We had more than that.” He watched her put coffee grounds in the filter. “We had the baby.”
Her hand nearly slipped. “I got pregnant because we were sleeping together. Not because we were friends.”
“Fine. Whatever.” He ignored the emptiness in his chest, the ache that always surfaced when he thought about the loss of their child. He knew the miscarriage had left a hole in her heart, too. He could see the familiar sadness in her eyes. At first they’d been scared spitless about becoming parents, but within a matter of weeks they’d grown romantically accustomed to the idea. “I didn’t come here to dredge up the past.”
No, Carrie thought. He’d got in touch with her because he wanted to interview her about a case he was working on. She wasn’t surprised that he did high-profile security and investigative work. She’d been a homebody, a nester, but he’d always dreamed of bigger and better things, of saving the world, of making a difference. After the divorce, he’d enlisted in the Army, where he’d become an intelligence officer. She’d heard that he’d been a mercenary too, that after he left the Army, he’d taken high-risk jobs. People were always telling her things about Thunder. But that happened when you lived in a small town, where everyone seemed to know your past. Not that she hadn’t been curious about him. He hadn’t been an easy man to forget.
She poured the coffee and tried not think about their youth, about him splaying his hands across her tummy and asking her what they should name the baby.
They’d chosen Tracy for a girl and Trevor for a boy.
Carrie handed him his coffee. He accepted the steaming brew, watching her with an intense expression in those deep, dark eyes. He’d aged strong and hard, with unrelenting features. He was bigger, broader, more muscular, burgeoning into the warrior he was destined to become.
He’d been planning on enlisting in the Army before she’d got pregnant, before he’d been honor-bound to marry her. And afterward he’d expected her to be his military wife, to sit on an Army base somewhere and wait for him to return from Lord only knew where. She’d refused, and he’d remained as restless as an alley cat, scratching his way through a young, troubled marriage.
But even so, he’d wanted the baby. He’d wanted to be a father. The memory hurt more than she cared to admit. She was supposed to be over him. Twenty years was a long time. Their child would have been a young adult today.
“What’s that?” he asked.
She blinked, then realized she’d just splashed a vanilla-flavored creamer into her cup. She held up the container, showing it to him. “Do you want some?”
“No.” He angled his head. “You always had a sweet tooth.”
“Yeah, but now everything goes straight to my hips.”
He checked her out, slowly and steadily. “I like how you look.”
Uh-oh. A case of self-consciousness crept over her, so she stirred her drink, trying to seem unaffected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“And I wasn’t taking the unintended bait.”
“Okay, then.” She clanked her spoon. He was still checking her out, like the predator he’d always been. Even as a teenager, he’d had a blatant way of looking at her, of making her feel sexual. A tactic that had worked in his favor, especially on the night she’d given him her virginity. For Carrie, first-time sex had been painful, but he’d held her afterward, promising it would get better.
And it had. Every time he’d touched her, she’d fallen deeper in love. Foolish girl that she was. But in the end, she’d filed the divorce papers. Dissolving the marriage had been her choice, her heartbreak, her salvation. After they’d lost the baby, everything had fallen apart, including her emotions, her fear of staying with a man who was much too eager to conquer the world.
Carrie took a deep breath, and Thunder ran his hand through his hair. It was shorter than it had been when they were young, but not as close-cropped as she’d expected. He didn’t wear a military cut.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded. She knew he meant the interview. He’d told her over the phone that he wanted to question her about Julia Alcott, a woman who used to work at her family’s motel.
They sat at the kitchen table, with the afternoon sun shining through a window.
“When’s the last time you saw Julia?” he asked.
“It’s been ten years. That’s how long ago she worked for my parents.”
“Did you know her very well?”
“We had a lunch together a few times. We weren’t overly close, but I liked her. She was easy to talk to, mature for her age. She’s younger than I am. She was only eighteen at the time.”
“And you were twenty-eight then.”
“Yes.” Carrie lifted her coffee and took a sip. He knew exactly how old she was. She and Thunder were the same age. “Are you investigating her kidnapping?” She’d read about Julia’s abduction in the paper and had watched the news updates on TV, worrying about the other woman. “I heard that she was safe. That a private citizen found her two days after she was reported missing.”
“I’m investigating her whereabouts now.”
“Now? That was six months ago. Was she kidnapped again?”
“No, but she and her mother, Miriam, left town right after the rescue. Miriam is a compulsive gambler. The loan sharks she owed money to took Julia hostage, trying to threaten Miriam into paying her debts. But Miriam didn’t tell the police that she knew who’d abducted her daughter. Instead, she and Julia split in the middle of the night a few days after Dylan stumbled on Julia in an abandoned trailer near his ranch. He was the private citizen who found her.”
“Dylan is involved?” Thunder’s younger brother had been a wild child, a boy who was forever getting in trouble.
“He’s not an official investigator. He just happened to find her in the trailer. He’s been investigating this for months, and he got an anonymous tip that the kidnappers hired an assassin to find them.”
Carrie tried to picture Dylan, to envision what he would look like today. He was nine years old the last time she’d seen him, a scrappy kid who did reckless tricks on his horse and had just got into Golden Gloves boxing, which was supposed to provide a positive outlet for his pent-up energy. “Have the police arrested the kidnappers?”
“The FBI is involved, but there isn’t enough evidence to arrest the kidnappers, let alone convict them, and the identity of the assassin is unknown. We’re trying to find Julia and her mother before the killer does, before he silences them.” Thunder blew out a rough breath. “The authorities need their testimony.”
Carrie sat back in her chair. Her life was simple, so ordinary, and Julia Alcott’s world was turned upside down. “Do you think Julia and her mother know that there is an assassin after them?”
“No, but they’re certainly aware of how vicious the loan sharks are. They’re running scared just the same.” He made a troubled face. “The assassin wasn’t hired until after Dylan figured out who the kidnappers were. That’s why he’s trying so hard to locate Julia and Miriam, to bring them to safety.”
“Your brother feels responsible for their lives?”
“Yes.” Thunder drank his coffee, squinting into the sunlight that zigzagged across the table. “Tell me everything you remember about Julia. Even if it seems insignificant.”
“She worked in housekeeping.” Carrie paused, trying to recall details, to step back in time, to envision eighteen-year-old Julia. “She was meticulous, especially for someone so young. She’d just graduated from high school.”
“How long was she at the motel?”
“For about a year.”
“Did you ever see her after she quit?”
“No, but I heard that she started working as a waitress.”
He continued the interview, zeroing in on personal questions. “What did you talk about on the occasions that you had lunch with her?”
“Girl stuff, I guess.”
“Men?”
“Sometimes we talked about her boyfriend. I don’t remember his name, but she was upset when he broke up with her.”
“His name is Dan Myers. I’ve already spoken with him. He’s married now, with two little kids. He seems content.”
“Good for him.” Carrie tried not to sound cynical, but Thunder was the last person with whom she wanted to discuss marriage and babies. “I told her that she was better off waiting until she was older to find the right guy. That eighteen was too young to be in a serious relationship.”
He clenched his jaw, making a tight expression. “What were you? The voice of experience?”
“Yes, I was.” She gazed at him over the rim of her cup. “I’ve learned to choose my men wisely.”
His voice turned flip. “And I’ve learned to bang my way through as many blondes as I can find.” A smart-aleck smile tilted one corner of his lips. “Brunettes and redheads, too.”
She wanted to push him right out the window, but she wasn’t about to let him get the best of her. “You’ve been sleeping around? The man who doesn’t know how to be friends with a woman? Gee, what a surprise.”
He didn’t respond, and her pulse stumbled. The smile was gone, and his eyes remained as dark and dangerous as his soul. She hated remembering how much she’d loved him, how much he’d influenced every aspect of her life. “Can we get back to Julia?” she asked.
“Totally.” Those menacing eyes bore straight into hers. “That’s why I’m here.” He shifted his weight, creaking the chair. “Did she have friends, know anyone out of state?”
“You mean someone she might try to get reacquainted with now?” Carrie shook her head. “She never mentioned anyone.”
“What about her goals? Did she ever talk about what she wanted out of life? Was she interested in college?”
“I don’t remember. But I know that she liked this area. That she felt comfortable here. She didn’t seem interested in moving.”
“Why?”
“Because she and her mom moved a lot when she was little. And because she leased a horse at Brentwood Stables. She skimped and saved to afford that luxury. She enjoyed riding, being out in nature.”
“That’s what all of her old co-workers have said so far. But she hasn’t had a horse for the past few years.” He frowned a little. “As far as I can tell, she gave up the horse to help Miriam. Her mom was behind on her bills.”
“Because of her gambling?”
He creaked his chair again. “Yes.”
Curious, Carrie thought about Thunder’s brother, about his being a horse trainer. “Did Dylan know Julia before the kidnapping? Before he’d rescued her?”
“No. He’s done a few clinics at Brentwood Stables, but not while Julia was boarding there.”
“Why isn’t Dylan interviewing me?” she asked.
“Because he’s traveling, checking out the places where Julia and Miriam used to live.” Thunder paused. “I’d like to interview your parents, too.”
“They’re out of town.”
“For how long?”
“Until Sunday.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be around until then.” He finished his coffee. “Where’d your parents go?”
“Las Vegas.” To play the slot machines, she thought. To try their luck at blackjack. Only her folks didn’t have a gambling problem. They weren’t like Julia’s mother. “I’m taking a vacation when they get back.”
He stood up, towering over the table, over her. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” She got to her feet, troubled by his questions, by the way he was prying into her life. “I’m just going to get some things done around the house.”
“Sounds boring.”
Carrie shrugged. At times her life was dull. But it was safe, too. She didn’t take chances. Her first and only risk had been marrying Thunder.
And she’d learned her lesson.
She looked at her ex-husband, at his take-charge posture, at his break-a-woman’s-heart demeanor.
She’d learned it well.
Two
Afew days later, Carrie manned the front desk at the Lipton Lodge Motel while Thunder interviewed her parents in the backroom office. They’d been holed up for what seemed like hours.
Edgy, she glanced at her watch. The interview had been only forty-five minutes, but that was long enough. She doubted that they were talking about Julia Alcott the entire time. Carrie’s parents hadn’t known her that well. Of course after Julia had been kidnapped, Daisy and Paul Lipton had been glued to the TV, worrying and wondering about the young woman who used to work for them. Carrie had been fretful, too. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen in Cactus Wren County.
She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows, her mind wandering. Cactus Wren had been named after the state bird, a little creature that built a variety of nests, living in one and using the others as decoys.
Ironically, Carrie knew all about phony shelters, about keeping herself safe, at least in an emotional sense. She was notorious for dating men like Kevin, for using them as decoys. Only her relationship with Kevin had just blown up in her face.
Why?
Because Kevin didn’t challenge her. He didn’t ignite her blood. He didn’t make her long for more.
But Thunder did, damn him. So she’d confided in Kevin, admitting how Thunder affected her, even after all these years.
And what did Kevin do?
He’d remained true to character, letting her go without a fight. Of course he’d offered to stay friends with her, to lend an ear if she ever needed to talk. But that didn’t ease her frustration or make her any less angry at Thunder. Just like that, he’d spun back into her life, creating chaos like the human tornado he was.
And despite her better judgment, she wanted to have a knockdown, drag-out affair with her former spouse, then boot him straight out of her bed.
Only knowing Thunder, he wouldn’t give a damn. He wouldn’t care if she cleansed her soul with sex, as long as he was getting his rocks off, too.
No, she thought. She wouldn’t sleep with him.
The office door opened and voices emerged. Carrie turned around and saw her parents with Thunder. The familiarity made her ache.
Daisy and Paul had loved Thunder like a son.
Carrie’s mom had her arm looped through his. She was a medium-boned, slightly plump, pretty brunette who wore stylish clothes and chattered incessantly. Carrie’s dad stood tall and trim and quiet. His dark, thinning hair was laced with gray, and the desert sun had bronzed his skin. Although he was one-quarter Cherokee, he didn’t have a CDIB card, a Certificate of Degree of Indian Blood, to prove it.
Thunder glanced up and caught Carrie’s gaze. Daisy released his arm and gave it a maternal pat. He didn’t seem to mind, but his mother was the sort of woman who fussed and fawned over grown men, too.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked Carrie.
“Of course she does,” Daisy said. “She’s due for a break.”
Carrie wanted to give her mother a swift kick in the rear. Her dad, too. He remained much too silent.
“We can go outside.” Carrie headed to the glass door that led to the front of the building, and Thunder opened it for her. She knew her parents were watching.
Once she and Thunder were standing on the walkway that led to the motel rooms, he squinted at her. Although the spring weather was comfortable, the sun was bright.
“How about a soda?” he asked.
“That sounds good.” Her throat was suddenly parched. Being this close to him was giving her that knee-jerk reaction she’d stupidly told Kevin about.
They strolled to the nearest vending machine, and he fed it the appropriate amount of coins, choosing a grape drink for her and a lemon-lime for himself.
Carrie glared at him.
“What?” he said.
“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”
“I know what you like.”
“Maybe my tastes have changed.”
“Then take this one.” He thrust his can at her.
She accepted the lemon-lime and stiffed him with the grape, knowing that it was his least favorite, that it reminded him of cough syrup.
He popped the top and took a swig. He didn’t make a face. He drank it as though it quenched his thirst just the same.
She followed suit, waiting for him to speak. He finished his soda first, crushing the can and chucking it in the recycle bin.
“I invited your parents to dinner,” he said.
She glared at him all over again. “What for?”
“Because my mom asked me to. She wants my family to entertain yours.”
Good grief. “When? And where?”
“Tomorrow at the old homestead.”
The ancient property where he’d grown up, she thought. A place with mesquite trees, an adobe patio and a weathered barn.
“My family misses yours,” he said, his expression deep and dark, his frown lines more pronounced. “They wanted to stay in touch, but it got awkward after the divorce…”
His words trailed, but his meaning was clear. For him, it was still awkward. For Carrie, too. They’d got married on the homestead.
“Our folks were compatible in-laws,” she said.
“Yeah.” He tugged his hand through his hair, making the strands spike. “I’m supposed to invite you, as well. My parents miss you, too.”
Her heart squeezed. She’d loved the Truenos as much as they’d loved her. “Will you be there?”
He nodded. “Mom would pitch a fit if I bailed out.”
“What about Dylan?”
“He’ll be around. He just got back in town.”
“I’d like to see everyone.”
“Then I’ll tell my meddling mom that you’re coming.” He smiled a little. “I don’t know how my dad deals with having such a pushy wife.”
She smiled, too. “The same way my dad does.”
“Poor bastards.”
“Thunder.” She scolded him, and they both laughed.
Then she caught him giving her one of his blatant looks, stabbing her with hot, hard energy. She lifted her soda and took a sip, wetting her mouth.
But it didn’t help.
Carrie’s ex-husband was seducing her all over again.
On Monday Carrie took her own car to the Trueno’s house. She pulled into the graveled driveway and parked behind her parents’ sedan. Scanning the other vehicles, she noticed a big black Hummer vehicle with California plates. Thunder’s L.A. lifestyle was showing.
Nervous, she climbed out of her car and smoothed her clothes. She’d chosen jeans and a white eyelet blouse, with a turquoise tank top underneath. Her belt and boots were tooled leather.
The property looked nearly the same, close enough to pincushion her memories, to leave sharp little points in her brain. The house had been built before Cactus Wren had become an official county. The Truenos’ neighbors were still few and far between. Carrie looked at the trees that shaded her path. They were twenty to thirty feet tall, with smooth, dark brown barks that separated into long, shaggy strips. On her wedding day, they’d been decorated with silver ribbon.
She shook away the image and proceeded to a wraparound porch. While she knocked on the door, her heart pounded just as hard. Margaret Trueno, Thunder’s mother, answered the door.
The older woman squealed, invited her inside, then latched onto her for a hug. Margaret had gained about twenty pounds, and her shoulder-length hair was salted with gray, marking the years they’d been apart. She smelled sweet and earthy, like the herbs she’d always grown on her windowsill.
They stepped back to gaze at each other. “You’re as stunning as ever,” Margaret said.
Carrie smiled. “So are you.” Thunder’s mom had enhanced her beauty with a colorful cotton dress and the handcrafted jewelry she used to sell at powwows.
“I’m in my sixties.”
“We’re all getting older.”
Margaret nodded, and Carrie remembered how much she’d wanted to be a grandmother.
“Is that our girl?” a man asked.
Thunder’s father. Carrie saw Nolan Trueno coming around the corner. He was as solid as an oak and handsome in the way that made outdoorsy men look ruggedly distinguished.
He stepped forward and kissed her cheek. He and his wife had been raised on tribal lands, but they’d left the reservation so Nolan could attend a state university, where he’d earned a degree in biology. Later, he and Margaret had bought the homestead, keeping recreational horses and raising two sons.
“I’ve been waiting for you to get here,” he said. “I didn’t want to light the barbecue until you arrived. Your dad and the boys are out back.”
“And my mom?”
“In the kitchen,” Margaret supplied. “She’s been helping me with the salads and side dishes.”
In no time, Carrie was escorted onto the patio. Thunder snared her like a rabbit. He stood up to greet her, and she felt the impact of his presence. Behind him, in a rock-garden setting, was the rustic gazebo where they’d exchanged vows. Carrie shifted her gaze away from it.
Thunder reintroduced her to Dylan, and she searched for evidence of the boy he used to be. But all she saw was a dark-eyed man with a square jaw and killer cheekbones. He wore his hair long, and his clothes were a tad dusty, as though he’d spent the earlier part of the day in the barn. Dylan was as tall as his older brother but not quite as broad. His muscles were leaner, rangier, cut a bit more sharply. She suspected that he was still boxing, still blowing off steam in the ring.
“You’re looking good,” he told her, taking both of her hands in his and openly flirting.
Damn, she thought. Not only was Dylan gorgeous, he had a wicked sense of humor. She could tell he was trying to get Thunder’s goat. “Thank you. So are you.”
Thunder nudged his brother out of the way, and Dylan winked at Carrie. Suddenly she realized how dangerous all of this was. Thunder had no qualms about restaking his claim.
But that didn’t mean he’d be getting what he was after.
Thunder listened to the conversations going on around him. The moms blabbed throughout the meal, catching up on each other’s lives. The dads were enjoying themselves, too. As for the divorced offspring…
Carrie added more margarine to her corn, seemingly busy with her food, and Thunder worked out a plan to be with her.
In her bed, he thought.
Why fight the attraction? Why drive himself crazy with it?
He looked up and caught Dylan watching him. The younger man lifted his beer, then tipped it in a subtle toast, wishing Thunder luck with his ex.
Wise guy, Thunder thought.
A few minutes later Dylan’s expression turned serious, and Thunder knew his brother’s thoughts had wandered, that the case they were working on had entered his mind, casting its dark shadow. He’d been traveling extensively, looking for clues, for answers, for someone who might know where Julia and Miriam were, but he hadn’t uncovered any leads.
After dinner Thunder finagled some alone time with Carrie. Not that it took much finagling. Both sets of parents seemed pleased that they’d gone off by themselves.
They walked toward the barn. The sun was in the process of setting, turning the sky a soft reddish hue.
“Is Dylan’s ranch close by?” Carrie asked.
Thunder frowned. He hadn’t whisked her away to discuss his brother. “No. It’s on the west side of town. Near the river.”
“And that’s where he found Julia?”
“Yes.” They kept walking, taking a path lined with spiny shrubs, foliage that grew comfortably in the dry desert soil.
She turned to look at him. “Julia was pretty when she was young.”
He had no idea where this conversation was leading. “So?”
“So…has Dylan mentioned if he’s attracted to her?”
Thunder stopped and shook his head. “What are you doing? Trying to make something romantic out of this? She was bound and gagged when he found her, with rope burns on her wrists and ankles and dirt and dust on her face and clothes.”
A small breeze blew, stirring Carrie’s hair. “I’ll bet he carried her out of that trailer.”
“I’ve carried victims out of agonizing situations, too.” But the only time he’d ever felt truly helpless was when Carrie had lost the baby. She’d been cramped into a ball, bleeding onto the bed, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. Nothing but dial 9-1-1. “Can we change the subject?”
“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
She sighed, and the sound drifted into the air. “There is no us, Thunder.”
“There could be.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”
“I want you to dump Kevin and come to California with me.”
She sucked in a breath. “Just like that? I’m supposed to run off with my ex-husband?”
“Just for a few weeks. During your vacation.”
“That’s crazy,” she said, scoffing at the idea.
They reached the barn, and he escorted her inside. The building housed two geldings, as well as an Australian shepherd that slept in the tack room.
When the lazy old dog roused from his nap and lumbered forward to greet them, Carrie petted his mottled head, using him as a diversion.
Thunder wasn’t about to give up. Being this close to Carrie was making him hungry for the past, for the kind of passion they’d had when they were young. He wanted to rekindle those forbidden feelings, those desperate, consume-each-other moments. “We can work on being friends.”
She quit petting the dog, stopping to give Thunder a serious study. Then she crossed her arms, using body language that was far from cordial. “You’re just trying to get me into bed.”
He sent her a cheeky grin. “What’s wrong with being friendly lovers?”
She punched his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”
He ignored the girly hit. She’d never learned to form a proper fist. “I’m honest, Carrie. I always was.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
His gut churned. “Because of Kevin?”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with him. We’re not dating anymore.”
“Really?” His confidence boosted a notch. “Why? Because you started lusting after me again?”
She punched him again. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Even if it’s true?” He knew he was making headway. He could see a flicker of resolve in her eyes. “How about if we start off as friends and see where it leads?”
“What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?”
“Then I’m screwed. Or not screwed.” He chuckled at his own pathetic wit. “I’m willing to take my chances.” He paused, turned serious. “Honestly, Carrie, I’d really like to try to be friends. I’ve never been comfortable with the way things ended between us.”
“I need to think about it.”
“Would it help if I told you that I have a house on the beach?” he asked, recalling the seascape prints on her walls.
She didn’t respond, but he figured the surf and sand was food for thought. Silent, she headed for the stalls. The horses poked their heads over the wooden doors, curious to see who was visiting them. The dog followed along. So did Thunder. He liked watching Carrie. He liked the way she moved, the way her hips rocked.
She turned, then blindsided him with a question. “How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”
He tried not to wince, to let his discomfort show. He didn’t keep score. But he always played it safe. He used condoms and got regular HIV tests. “I’m not going to answer something like that.”
She pressed the issue. “Why not? Because it’s only been a month? A week? A few days?”
“A few days? How would that be possible? I’ve been sleeping here.”
“In the barn?”
“At my parents’ house, smarty.”
“I don’t want to bump into your current lover in California, Thunder. I don’t want to get into a catfight with some jealous blonde.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Does that mean you’re coming home with me?”
“No. It just means that I’m assessing the situation.”
His smile fell. “There isn’t anyone who’s going to be jealous. I’ve never been involved with a woman who’s cared about me that much.” He paused, reached out to touch her, to brush his knuckles along her jaw. “No one but you.”
“And look what happened.” She covered his hand with hers. “We lost everything.”
“But we’re keeping it light this time. We’re embarking on friendship.”
“And sex, if you get your way.”
“Sex doesn’t have to be complicated.” He leaned in to kiss her, to taste what he’d been missing, but she slipped away.
Leaving him hanging, waiting and wondering what her final answer would be.
Three
“You’re supposed to talk me out of this,” Carrie said to her mom.
Daisy shook her head. She was sitting on Carrie’s sofa and was wearing pleated pants and a short-sleeved top. Her makeup had been carefully applied and her chestnut-brown hair was coiffed just so, courtesy of the beauty salon she’d been patronizing for over twenty years.
“It’s just a vacation,” Daisy said.
“With my ex-husband.” Carrie was too edgy to sit. She stood beside the gas fireplace she rarely used. The brick mantel was empty—no knickknacks, no family photos—a reminder that she was a longtime divorcée with no children.
“It’s a bit late for this conversation.” Daisy sipped a glass of instant lemonade. “You already told Thunder that you’d go with him.”
And now she was a nervous wreck, wondering what she’d got herself into. “He wasn’t supposed to come back into my life.”
“But he did, and you’re swayed by him. If you don’t do this, you’ll regret it.”
“You’re swayed by him, too.” Frustrated, Carrie glanced at her fingernails, where she’d picked at the week-old polish. “You’re taking his side.”
When the older woman set her drink on the coffee table, her hand lingered, showcasing a manicure that was fresh and glossy. “He loved you, honey. You know he did.”
Carrie’s heart lurched. “He never even said it.”
“But you know it’s true. You know how much he cared.”
“But I wanted him to say it.”
“So tell him that. Tell him how you feel.”
“After all this time?”
“Why not?” Daisy asked. “Besides, I think he still loves you.”
Good grief. She looked at the woman who’d given her life. “You only see what you want to see.”
“Thunder’s mother sees it, too. Margaret told me that her son has been lonely without you.”
“Lonely?” Carrie snorted. “When? In between all of his affairs?”
“Margaret thinks he does that to keep his mind off you.”
“Right. Twenty years of playing around to make up for a short-lived marriage with me. He may have done that in the beginning, but somewhere along the way he started to enjoy that lifestyle.”
“And now he wants to spend time with you.” Daisy stood up. “Just go to California, honey. Give him a chance.”
Carrie sighed. Arguing with her mother was pointless. “It doesn’t hurt that he lives at the beach.”
“Or that he still loves you.”
“Give it a rest, Mom.”
“Well, he does.” Daisy flashed a matchmaker’s smile, then went into the kitchen to put her glass in the sink.
Five minutes later, she left the condo, waving to her daughter. Carrie stood at the doorway and watched her go.
And that was when Thunder showed up and ran into Daisy. He greeted her on the walkway, exchanging friendly words and giving her a heartfelt hug.
After the older woman departed, he headed for Carrie’s condo. She still stood in the doorway, and when he noticed her, her pulse skittered.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m making sure you don’t change your mind.”
“I almost did.”
He moved closer, then stopped in front of her, making her much too aware of the words he’d never spoken, the love he’d never confessed.
“I figured you’d try to bail out,” he said.
“My mom was supposed to talk me out of going with you.”
“Fat chance of that.” He nudged her inside. “She wants us to get back together.”
Carrie frowned at him. “She told you that?”
“No. But it’s obvious. With my mom, too.” He took her hand and led her toward the stairs. “Let’s go to your room. To get you packed,” he added, before she could pull away from him.
“Are you this aggressive with the other women in your life?” By now, she was going upstairs with him, letting him call the shots and hating herself for it.
“You’re the only one who’s ever been difficult.” They reached her room, and he studied her unmade bed. “But it’s okay. I like the challenge.”
“Good thing.” She finally pulled away from him. “Because I intend to keep you at arm’s length.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to sleep with me?”
“Afraid so.” She opened the closet and removed her suitcase. Packing made sense, considering they were driving to California tomorrow.
“Then we’ll focus on being friends.” He sent her a bad-boy grin. “While I’m trying to seduce you.”
Carrie knew she was doomed. That sooner or later, she would end up in his bed, hot and hungry and stupidly naked. But she wasn’t about to admit it, at least not out loud. “I’m tougher than I look, Thunder.”
“I’m aware of how tough you are.” His grin faded. “I’ve got the divorce decree to prove it.”
She unzipped her suitcase and flung it open. “Literally or figuratively?”
“Literally. I kept the blasted thing as a reminder to never get married again.”
“Me, too.” It was in a safe-deposit box with other legal documents.
“We’re quite a pair.” He got nosy and looked through her closet, checking out her clothes, sliding hangers across the rod. “Bring this.” He grabbed a black cocktail dress. “And this.” A white suit with a glittery camisole attached. “For when we go someplace nice.”
“You’re going to wine and dine me?”
“It’s part of the seduction.” He tossed the fancy garments onto her bed. “Bring some slinky underwear, too. And a push-up bra if you have one. I like those lift-and-separate contraptions.”
“Too bad.” She went to her dresser, removing basic bras and prim cotton panties. “I’m not playing along with your seduction.”
“Spoilsport.”
When he turned his attention back to her closet, she crammed a push-up bra and a handful of thongs into her suitcase. Then she kept packing, wishing her heart wasn’t pounding so hard. Dangerous as it was, she wanted to make love with her ex-husband. And she wanted him to hold her afterward, to rekindle those tender moments from their youth. A tenderness she hadn’t felt since she was married to him.
He studied a pair of jeans. “Are these tight?”
“They stretch.”
“Kind of like rubber?” He flung them at her. “I’ll bet you look hot in them.”
She heaved the jeans back at him. “I don’t need you choosing my wardrobe.”
“Oh, yeah?” He snared her gaze, using those deep dark eyes as bait. “Then why did you sneak that sexy lingerie into your suitcase?”
Damn, she thought. He’d caught her, even while his back had been turned. But what did she expect? He was a security specialist, a man who’d been trained to be aware of his surroundings.
“Can’t a girl have a few secrets?” she said.
“Not with me around.” He sat on the edge of her unmade bed, crinkling the floral-printed sheets. “Can you take a longer vacation?”
“What? Why?” The change of topic threw her.
“Because I want you to stay with me for more than two weeks.”
She sat on the other edge of the bed, looking at him from across the rumpled linens. “I might be able to swing an extra week, but not if you keep bullying me.”
“Fine. You can choose your own wardrobe.” He stood up, blocking the window, shading the waning sunlight. “I’ve missed you, Carrie.”
Her chest turned tight. Was missing her the same as loving her? No, she thought. It wasn’t. Her mother was grasping at straws.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted, telling herself it didn’t matter.
This wasn’t a reconciliation.
After her vacation ended, they would still be divorced.
Thunder’s beachfront property was a few feet from the sand, with a stretch of sidewalk separating the three-story structure from what could only be described as paradise.
Carrie couldn’t help but sigh. She stood beside Thunder in front of his house, with her suitcase in tow, looking out at the sea. “I’m impressed,” she said.
“I bought this place a while ago.” He gestured to the other buildings scattered along the sidewalk. “Most of these are vacation rentals, but I live here year-round.”
“I can understand why.” The ocean provided a sense of power, of peace, of beauty. Dusk settled in the sky, while the surf crashed upon the shore, leaving foaming waves in its infallible wake.
“As you can see, it’s not a private beach.” He indicated the shops and eateries farther along the walkway. “There’s always activity around here. But I like to people-watch.”
“You always did.” She did, too. Even now she was mesmerized by a young couple who were strolling hand in hand, heading in the direction of the restaurants.
“Are you ready to settle in?” he asked. “To unpack?”
She nodded, then glanced at the military-style duffel bag he’d used as luggage while visiting his parents. Old habits ran deep, she thought. Somewhere deep inside, Thunder was still a soldier. “You need to unpack, too.”
He unlocked the front door, carried their bags inside and disabled a sophisticated security system. She looked around, intrigued by the split-level structure. The foyer presented two sets of stairs, one leading to the top floor and the other leading to the bottom. The middle level, decorated with casual furniture, offered a spacious living room, a tidy kitchen and a half bath.
“I sleep upstairs. And the guest room is below.” He latched onto the handle of her suitcase. “Where do you want to sleep?” He charmed her with a smile. “The master suite has a balcony with a view of the beach.”
She shook her head, laughed a little. “We just got here, and already you’re trying to con me into sharing your room.”
“Is it working?”
“Nope.” She itched to kiss him, to taste all that machismo, but she wouldn’t dare. Playing hard to get was part of the game, part of protecting herself, of building up the courage to have a mind-spinning, dangerously thrilling, much-too-lethal affair with her ex. “I’ll take the guest quarters.”
“If you say so.” He led her downstairs, where a medium-size bedroom with a pine dresser and a mirrored closet awaited. The color scheme was blue, like the ocean she couldn’t see. Several small windows showcased the house next door.
“There’s another room down here,” he said. “It’s on the other side of the bathroom. I made it into a gym.”
She peered into the hallway and caught a glimpse of an open doorway, where his workout equipment gleamed. “This house fits you.”
“The master suite is the best part. Are you sure you don’t want to stay there with me?”
“I’m sure,” she said, even though her skin tingled with a dying-to-be-touched sensation, reminding her of how good it felt to be near him.
“Then I’ll let you unpack. After that, we can catch some dinner.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Catch? We’re not going fishing, are we?”
He chuckled. “Not quite. I’m going to take you to the Crab and Clam. It’s within walking distance, and they serve the best .50 Calibers in town.”
“Is that a bullet or a drink?”
He chuckled again. “Both. But I was referring to the drink. It’s guaranteed to knock you on your ass.”
So would a .50-caliber bullet, she thought. “Getting me drunk won’t help your cause. I’m sleeping here tonight.” She patted the guest bed. “This is my safety net.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” He moved a little closer, flirting unmercifully.
She flirted, too. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“You’re driving me crazy, Carrie.”
“That’s the idea.” She unzipped her suitcase. “Is the Crab and Clam casual or dressy?”
“Casual.” He scanned the length of her. “They have a stripper pole in the middle of the bar.”
She sucked in a breath. “Sounds like a classy place.”
“It’s perfect for what I have in mind.” He reached out to touch her cheek, using the tips of his fingers, making her much too warm.
Then he walked out of the room, leaving her alone.
And wondering about the night ahead of them.
Thunder walked beside Carrie, with an ocean breeze stirring the air. The streetlights cast a warm glow, making the reddish strands in her hair more apparent. She’d changed into cropped pants, a lightweight blouse and a pair of tennis shoes. She blended into the scenery, like a girl who lived at the beach. But she didn’t. She was only visiting, becoming part of Thunder’s life for a minimal amount of time.
They reached the restaurant, a rustic establishment with seashells imbedded in the walls. They entered the building and waited to be seated.
“We’d like to eat in the bar,” Thunder told the hostess, who was the owner’s sun-and-surf daughter.
“Sure.” She gave him a familiar smile, recognizing him from the countless times he’d frequented the place. The locals all knew each other.
The hostess smiled at Carrie, too. Thunder had never brought a date to the Crab and Clam. He preferred to keep his favorite haunts to himself.
Until now.
He glanced at his ex-wife, remembering the vow they’d taken. Saying those words out loud had made him feel self-conscious. But he’d been enthralled, too. Fascinated by the girl he’d married.
After they were seated and the beverages they’d ordered were served, the waitress brought them a complementary relish platter.
Carrie scooted in her chair, then shot the stripper pole a wary look. Thunder smiled, enjoying the naughty connotation it provoked.
“No one uses it,” he said. “It’s just part of the decor.”
She reached for a celery stick, dipping it into the spicy dressing. “Then why is this place perfect for what you had in mind?”
“It got you thinking about taking off your clothes, didn’t it?”
“So it did.” She saluted him with the celery, then bit into it. “You certainly know how to make a girl react.”
“Want to give me a teaser?”
“No way,” she said, even though she leaned forward a little, offering him a quick peek down her top.
His zipper went tight. “That’s a good start.”
She sat upright, shooting him an I’m-going-to-win-this-round smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” He took a swig of his .50 Caliber, knowing he would be sleeping alone tonight.
Carrie sipped a cherry cola. She’d passed on the beverage that was guaranteed to knock her on her ass.
“What’s in that?” she asked, after he’d downed half the contents.
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