Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber
pajamas. Her hands roved over his body; his hands pressed her close to his heart.
Struggling against him, Justine unfastened the big round buttons of his jacket and with clumsy movements peeled it from his arms. His shirt was next, but the buttons were more stubborn this time and she struggled, impatient and so damn hot she felt she was going to burst into flames if he didn’t hurry and take her to bed. Her entire body pulsed with need. She wanted him as she’d never wanted another man in her life.
“Justine, no.” Seth held her at arm’s length, his chest heaving with the effort to break off their frantic kisses.
“No?” she cried in outrage. He’d created this wild fire that burned inside her, and he could damn well quench it.
“Not like this, when neither of us knows what we’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she challenged, her fists digging into her hips. “Are you rejecting me?” She noticed that her stance gave him a peek at her breasts and did nothing to shore up the gap in her pajama top.
Seth walked over to the sofa and sank wearily into the cushions while Justine fought to hold on to her shredded dignity. She put on a brave front, but she already knew she’d done everything humanly possible to make a fool of herself.
“It would be the easiest thing in the world to haul you into that bedroom and spend the next two days making love to you,” Seth told her in a low voice.
Her knees went weak, and she was almost—almost—reduced to begging.
“But I won’t,” he said, “because I love you. I’ve loved you from the time we were kids and I will not give either one of us an excuse to screw this up.”
Her bravado was slipping fast. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t stay away.”
“You don’t seem to be having that problem at the moment,” she muttered.
Seth chuckled and said something under his breath that she didn’t catch.
“What did you say?” she demanded, afraid he was secretly laughing at her.
He smiled faintly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
She did, but she wouldn’t press the issue.
He heaved in a deep sigh and held her look, his eyes a brilliant blue. “So you’ve missed me?”
“Yes, damn you.”
He looked far too pleased by her confession. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She glanced away rather than meet his gaze.
“Are you still seeing Warren Saget?”
Justine was grateful he couldn’t see her eyes. “Sometimes.”
Her response seemed to give him the incentive he sought. Seth stood up and scooped his jacket from the floor. “Let me know when you’re not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She refused to be Seth’s exclusive property, just as she’d never belong to Warren. “I’ll see him any time I please.”
“I know.”
The least he could do was argue with her instead of being so…so agreeable.
“I’ve told you before—Warren’s not right for you,” he said mildly.
“And you are?”
He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”
Justine had heard enough and apparently Seth felt he’d said everything she needed to hear. He walked over to the door and opened it. “Let me know when you’ve broken it off with Warren, all right?”
“You’ll have a long wait,” she tossed out, furious with him and unwilling to make the slightest concession, to give the slightest bit of hope. And yet, she couldn’t have. It was over with Warren, and Justine knew it despite her words to the contrary.
“If you’ve learned anything about me at all, you should realize I’m a patient man.” And with that, he left.
Although Justine was convinced Seth had stayed in town, she didn’t hear from him the rest of the weekend. Then on Sunday night, he phoned.
“Where are you?” she asked, so grateful to hear his voice that she forgot to pretend she was angry.
“Alaska.”
“You couldn’t have called me while you were still in town?”
“No,” he said, his voice husky and tired. “That would’ve been too easy.”
“Do you always do things the hard way?”
“Good God, I hope not,” he muttered.
“I suppose I should thank you,” she whispered, keeping her eyes shut and cradling the phone against her ear as she dropped onto a kitchen chair. Seth had prevented her from making an even bigger mistake than just throwing herself at him.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice suddenly gruff. “I’ve kicked myself all the way back here. Next time I won’t be so damned noble.”
“Next time,” Justine said softly, “I won’t give you the chance.”
Grace carried two heavy bags of groceries into the house and set them on the kitchen counter. It was Monday afternoon, after a relatively good weekend. She never knew what to expect from Dan anymore. Some days he was down and some days he was up. Recently, though, his moods seemed to be on a more even keel.
Kelly and her husband had been to the house for dinner on Sunday and it’d been a wonderful visit. The news of their daughter’s pregnancy had brightened their lives. Grace longed for this baby; whatever was lacking in her marriage, she hoped to find in grandchildren.
The house was dark and still. She expected Dan home at any time. She’d taken off an hour early for a doctor’s appointment that had lasted only a couple of minutes.
Grateful for this chance to organize her kitchen, Grace started unloading the bags, then suddenly paused. Something wasn’t right. She felt it. A sixth sense, a premonition, she wasn’t sure which. Listening, she cocked her head to one side. Her first inclination had been to dismiss the feeling, but it refused to go away.
Drawing in a stabilizing breath, she walked into the bedroom, and stopped abruptly. The dresser drawers hung open; their contents dangled over the edge and spilled about the room. Her first thought was that an intruder had been in the house, but a quick inventory said otherwise. Strangely, nothing valuable appeared to be missing. Her jewelry was out in plain sight.
Moving into the living room, Grace threw herself into a chair and closed her eyes.
Dan wasn’t coming home.
Again he’d taken nothing with him—only the clothes on his back. He’d abandoned everything else. His clothes, his personal possessions, his marriage and family.
She couldn’t say how she knew, but she felt it with a certainty that was inexplicable.
She didn’t contact Troy Davis or even Olivia; she wouldn’t tell anyone until at least a few days had passed. Her husband had been furious with her the last time. He’d pulled this horrible stunt, worried her to the point of physical illness and then been outraged that she’d called the sheriff. Dan had said she’d embarrassed him. Not once had he taken into account what he’d put her through. Two days of bitter, sullen silence had passed before they could speak to each other again. Now this.
Grace was right—Dan didn’t come home after work, nor did he show up that night. Despite a determined effort, she didn’t sleep. Her mind played tricks on her until, too exhausted to do anything else, she drifted off an hour before the alarm buzzed. She was tempted to call in sick, but decided against that. Staying home, pacing and worrying about where her husband might be or with whom,