Just a Whisper Away. Lauren Nichols
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“I see you’re not into costumes, either.”
“Not the one my dad chose for me,” she said. But there was a vulnerable look in her chocolate-brown eyes, and Jace knew she was wondering why they were dancing after fourteen years of silence. Her voice softened. “I found this dress in a trunk in the attic. It was my mom’s.”
Jace heard the loving, the missing in her reply and the kid in him empathized with that, but he didn’t comment. Because a dozen feet behind Abbie, his fun-loving baby brother was grinning up a storm and dancing his partner their way. He’d told everyone at the Rogan Logging & Lumber table that he was cutting out early to get some work done—which surprised no one. Now Ty was on his way to see who’d convinced him otherwise.
Jace spun Abbie off in another direction. The last thing he wanted now was small talk from someone wearing a plumed hat and a Cyrano nose. “So, how’s the legal eagle business?”
“You know what I do?”
“Hard not to. Your dad brags you up every time you win a case.” They’d talked a lot back when they’d cared about each other. Fourteen years ago, Abbie the Crusader had wanted to practice law more than anything in life—much more than she’d wanted a roughneck logger with a past people still loved to talk about. “Not that I get the news firsthand,” he added, managing to keep an edge out of his voice. “I do my banking elsewhere.”
Abbie held back a sigh, but kept her thoughts to herself. Anything she said would bring up that wonderful-then-terrible night in the gazebo, and she already had more anxiety in her life than she could handle. That included the dewy warmth radiating between them and the sudden return of libido as Jace’s leg insinuated itself between hers and they moved to the slow, moody rhythm of “The Way We Were.”
How appropriate. Lifting her gaze, she took in Jace’s strong jaw and handsome features. He was more powerfully built now, more attractive in a sexy, rugged…maybe even cynical way. His feathery black hair was long by California attorney standards, but it was neatly trimmed, and his compelling storm-gray eyes held a look of confidence that he’d never had at twenty-two.
The gentle pressure of his hand on her bare back made her tremble as he guided her away from another couple…and suddenly, feelings and regrets she’d thought she’d put aside returned with heart-tugging poignancy. Swallowing, she searched for conversation, but everything she came up with felt awkward. “I’m surprised to see you here tonight. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d like this sort of thing.”
“People change,” he replied, a shrug in his voice. “I guess you’re home for a visit?”
“Yes, I got in yesterday afternoon.”
His smile held a trace of sarcasm. “And already you’re partying at the country club. How long are you staying this time?”
How long? Abbie suppressed a shudder as sniper fire echoed in her mind again. Hopefully, until the Los Angeles Police Department uncovered enough evidence to keep the young man she’d defended last month behind bars. The one who’d sent her the musical greeting card.
The one who wanted her dead.
Forcing Danny Long’s genial choir-boy features from her mind, she answered, “I’m not sure. At least until my dad gets back from his honeymoon. They’ll be gone for two weeks.”
“Morgan’s remarrying?”
“Yes, this Friday night.”
“I hadn’t heard. Then again, it’s not as if we move in the same circles.”
No, she supposed not.
It had been nearly seventeen years since her mother’s death from meningitis, and though Abbie had adored her mother, she was glad her dad had found Miriam to share his life. At sixty—and with Abbie living and working in Los Angeles—her father wouldn’t be alone.
“Actually,” she said, acutely aware of Jace’s leg between hers again, “I tried to back out, but Dad insisted that Paul— Dr. Bryant—needed a dinner date.”
“And how like you to oblige him.”
Abbie jerked her gaze up to his, hearing what he hadn’t said. Sweet little Abbie, always doing her daddy’s bidding. And finally she knew what this dance was all about.
“All right,” she returned quietly. “Let’s get this over with. Does your asking me to dance mean that the cold war is over, or that it’s just regaining stre—”
With a loud crack, something exploded behind them, and Abbie lunged forward, her arms circling his neck in a stranglehold.
“Abbie?” Shocked by her reaction and more concerned than he wanted to be, Jace stilled, then slowly tightened his arms around her. “Hey,” he said softly as laughter and apologies erupted behind them. “You’re okay. That was nothing. One of the waiters just lost a bottle of champagne from his tray.”
It took more than a moment for his words to sink in. Then, flushing deeply, she seemed to regain her composure and put some distance between them again. “Well,” she murmured, “that was embarrassing. I’m sorry. I was just a little startled.”
Jace searched her dark eyes as they began to move to the music again. “That’s not true. You’re shaking. And if that was startled, I’d hate to see terrified. What are they doing to you in L.A.?”
“Nothing,” she replied brightly. “I told you, I was just surprised.” The band finished to a smattering of applause, and Abbie put her hands together, too—a little too energetically, Jace thought.
Smiling again, she backed away. “I should get back to my table and let you get on with your evening. Thank you for the dance.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, still disturbed by the fear he’d seen in her eyes and damning himself for caring. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.”
“I will. And it really was nice to see you again.”
He should’ve let her walk away. That would’ve been the smart thing to do—the intelligent thing to do. Then Jace caught sight of Morgan’s black eyes and beet-red face, and the past came roaring back. Tossing good sense out the door, he called her name, caught her fingertips…and drew her back to him.
Then his mouth was covering hers, and a tingle he hadn’t counted on was sweeping through his system. Jace jerked away. For a second their gazes locked, and that old breathless current flowed between them. The same snap and sizzle they’d fought from the moment they’d met so long ago. Then he pulled himself together, forced a smile and started away. “See you around,” he called. “Give my regards to your dad.”
He’d barely stepped into the crisp March air when he heard the country club’s door bang open again.
“What was that all about?” she shouted, swiftly closing the distance between them as he strode to his SUV.
He glanced behind him. A thin coating of old snow crunched beneath her strappy open-toed high heels as she crossed the parking lot.
“Was it payback? Restitution for something that happened fourteen years ago? My God, Jace, when are you going to get past that?”
Ignoring her, he pulled his keys from his pocket and pointed the remote at his black Explorer. The taillights flashed as the doors unlocked.
“Because if ticking off my dad was what that kiss was about,” she continued when he faced her, “it was one of the most asinine displays of childishness I’ve ever witnessed!”
“Yes, it was,” he agreed calmly, opening his door. “But I must say it felt good. Now, you’d better get back inside before you freeze.”
“I intend to. But you need to know something before you leave.” She held his gaze in the amber spill of the light poles. “If you wanted to poke my father with a stick, dancing with me would’ve done the trick. You didn’t have to kiss me. And that makes me wonder why