Long-Lost Mom Read online

  God, he loved her. He wanted to keep her healthy and safe for always.

  Just a couple of weeks ago he’d have said he’d do this alone, without his family, without anyone. But that was before three monumental events had occurred, each equally staggering.

  He’d lost his brother, forever.

  He’d seen his parents and experienced firsthand the proof that they were indeed greatly affected by Sara.

  And he’d started to fall for a woman.

  It was the last one that had his heart tripping with unaccustomed nerves.

  But then he walked up the path to his house and got a very pleasant surprise.

  Cindy was sitting on his steps, looking lovely and wary and warm and anxious, making him wish he had two more arms with which to hold her, too.

  Her eyes fell to the dead-to-the-world child cradled against him, and her face seemed to crumble. Stone watched in wonder as her mysterious dark eyes filled with a staggering tender emotion.

  “Hey, there,” he whispered, shifting Sara so he could unlock the front door.

  “Hey, back. Hope you don’t mind my showing up so early,” she said quietly. “But I wanted to be here in case you needed... or in case Sara... Well, I thought maybe you could use the company.” Her breath escaped her all in one big rush as she sagged, looking fragile and very beautiful. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, lifting her uncertain gaze to his. “I just hoped I could... I mean, I just wanted—”

  He leaned over Sara and kissed her. “I’m very glad you wanted, thought, hoped, et cetera.”

  “Good,” she said unevenly, staring at his mouth in a way that made him instantly hard. “Glad you’re glad, ’cause I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to you.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s working for me.”

  “I...have to talk to you.”

  “Yes, I remember.” Some of her tension transferred itself to him. What was the matter? he asked himself. What had her looking so horrified and hopeful at the same time?

  “Are you... all right?” she questioned as she helped him open the door. “Was it hard?”

  “I’m better now,” he told her. “Somehow. I know that sounds strange—”

  “It doesn’t,” she assured him. “I know what you mean.”

  He looked at her, saw the compassion and understanding and grief in her face and realized she did know exactly what he’d been trying to say.

  At some point in her life, maybe several times, she’d lost someone important to her. “I’m sorry,” he said gently.

  Again he got that sad little smile, the one that made him want to grab her and hold tight. They walked through the big living room.

  “Hold on a sec,” he told her, and carefully settled a still-sleeping Sara on the couch. He was covering her with a quilt when he sensed Cindy behind him. Turning, he was once again struck by the way she was looking at his daughter.

  It was as if she was starving—not physically, but emotionally, as though desperate to give love. And uncertain it would be returned.

  His heart contracted, and as soon as he’d tucked in his child, he reached for Cindy and pulled her close.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him, sinking her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and holding on in a heart-stopping possessive grip. The strangest thing happened. The embrace triggered in Stone unwanted memories of another woman, in another time, touching him in exactly this same way, as if she couldn’t make herself let go.

  As if he was her entire world.

  Startled, Stone pulled back and stared at Cindy for a long moment.

  “What is it?” she asked quickly, withdrawing as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have.

  “Nothing.” Tugging her back against him, he tried to forget that twinge of warning unease. “Nothing. Touch me again.”

  With a glance at the sleeping Sara, Cindy took his hand. Without a word she led him from the living room into his kitchen.

  Then she looked at him, a quick glance over her shoulder. As she caught him blatantly admiring her, she grinned.

  He jerked to a stop.

  God, that grin—it reminded him so forcibly of Jenna.

  What the hell was wrong with him tonight? Delayed shock? He’d read somewhere that a death sometimes causes heightened sexual desire, which he was most definitely experiencing. But what about this sudden fixation on a woman he hadn’t seen in more than ten years?

  Needing something to do, he moved to the counter, filled a kettle with water and put it on to boil. Then, rubbing his hands together, he circled, searching for what he could do next.

  “Want dinner?” he asked suddenly.

  “Can you cook?”

  She sounded so surprised he whipped around to face her. She was standing there with a small teasing smile curving her lips. Her head was tilted to the side, one hip cocked, and again she looked so absolutely stunningly familiar.

  Then he blinked and she looked just like herself again, making him shake his head in denial. But something was different, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he didn’t like it.

  He felt as though Jenna was right here in the room with him, watching, listening, haunting him. It wasn’t physical. It couldn’t be, for Cindy was as different from Jenna as mght to day.

  Her hair was short, a natural soft brown that his fingers yearned to run through. Jenna’s hair had been long and icy blond. Dyed, he reminded himself.

  Cindy was slender, but the curves beneath the material of her dress were lush and driving him out of his mind, even from across the room.

  Jenna had been much thinner, leaner, barely matured, and he had no business comparing them.

  Cindy’s eyes were dark. Jenna’s had been light.

  And yet...both women’s gazes had stared at him from behind a mask of bravery, full of haunting secrets.

  He was losing it, he realized, as she stood waiting for him to answer.

  “I can make tea,” he said a bit roughly in the too-quiet kitchen. “And I’m really good at reheating pizza.”

  She laughed, and the sound should have thrilled him, for she so rarely let go enough to laugh.

  Neither had Jenna.

  Shaking his head at himself, he went to his answering machine on the cluttered counter and hit play.

  Jenna listened to the messages, watching Stone smile as someone thanked him for agreeing to some upcoming auction. Apparently he was giving away dozens of expensive prototypes, all to needy children centers.

  Well he hadn’t changed much. The old Stone would have given a stranger his last penny. This Stone was much the same.

  She studied his kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was large and homey. Slightly messy, which for some reason made her smile. Obviously housekeeping was a low priority here, and she knew what was a high one.

  Sara.

  “You’re so generous with your time and money,” she said quietly. “The children centers must be thrilled to get your help.”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug with those broad shoulders, making her smile again. He’d always hated talking about himself, and apparently that hadn’t changed.

  “There’s more takeout in this town than just pizza,” he muttered, flipping through the phone book. “What would you like?”

  “Do you always do so much for everyone else?” she pressed, already knowing the answer.

  “You wanted to talk to me.”

  “You’re avoiding my question.” And she was avoiding the inevitable, she realized. But God, she wanted this last evening to be peaceful, up to the end.

  “I’m not a saint,” he warned, the muscles in his back tensing as he handled the heavy phone book. “Don’t look at me with rose-colored glasses.”

  “I think I’m seeing the real you.”

  Tossing the book aside, he rubbed his eyes, shoved his hands through his hair and sagged back against the counter. His exhaustion was a tangible thing, and it made he