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stomach, thighs…it all brought her to full awareness of him as a strong, virile man. This
wasn’t a man who disliked or hated her and wished she’d just leave him alone. Here was
a guy who showed that he cared for her deeply.
More than that, despite the heat still penetrating the night, his embrace felt like
heaven. She laid her head against his shoulder and sank into the pleasure of the moment.
His hands smoothed up her back. He cupped her head and held her with a tenderness that
weakened her knees. He buried his face in her hair and linked his arms tighter around her
waist.
A tremor ran along his body and didn’t stop.
Oh, God.
All thought centered on his reaction.
Alarmed, she squeezed him and slipped her hands upward until she encircled his
neck. “Craig, what’s wrong?”
His eyes reflected a strange sorrow she didn’t understand. “I really am sorry I was
such an asshole earlier.”
Her question popped out. “Which time?” She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a soft
laugh. “Oh, shit. Sorry I said that.”
Pain flashed through his eyes. “Don’t be sorry. I deserved that. You told me off. You
said you didn’t want me to help you any more, and I respect that. If it’s still what you
want.”
Did she? She didn’t know yet.
He sighed, the sound long and heavy and filled with emotions too numerous to
mention. “When I thought you were dead…”
He swallowed hard, and Leigh comprehended something she hadn’t before. “Instead
of saying you were worried, you got angry.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and released her.
She lamented losing his embrace, but the wonder she felt replaced it. “Let’s sit
down.”
As they settled on the couch, the quiet around them seemed alive with possibilities,
with a hope. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he perused her.
His eyes reflected sorrow. “I haven’t felt this idiotic in a long time.”
“You were angry because you care about me,” she said, tenderness filling her.
A lopsided smile worked its way over his mouth. “Yeah.” His gaze came up and
tangled with hers. “I really do.”
“Do you understand why I resisted when you told me not to go to Ely? When you
demanded rather than asked?”
He looked at the floor. “I let my worry show in the only way I know how.”
When his gaze returned to Leigh, she saw an honesty within his eyes. Sudden
warmth stirred inside her. Time slowed, flowed and made her so aware of him she
wanted to reach out for his hand.
“When you’re worried about your family do you get testy with them?” she asked.
“Sometimes.”
She heard a story there, waiting to escape. “How do they react?”
“If it’s my brothers they indulge me or tell me to fuck off very nicely.”
She grinned. “I haven’t indulged you yet.”
“Probably good for me.”
“And your mother?”
“She never indulges me. She might say, ‘Craig you’re growling again.’ Cops can’t
always afford to show feelings, to show worry or fear.”
His revealing statement floored her once more. She yearned to learn more, to peel
away his hardened shell until the softer side emerged.
“I know where my worry comes from,” he said. “It wasn’t until tonight that the light
bulb came on.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
She shifted until she leaned her shoulder against the back of the couch. “Tell me.”
Struggle played over his features, a man searching for answers, too. A man unsure
that he wanted to tell all. His eyes darkened with an approaching storm. “I don’t know
where to begin.”
“At the beginning.”
“Right.” His voice went throaty, as emotion rose inside and forced remembrance of a
time and placed he’d probably rather forget. “I was a juvenile delinquent. I joined a gang.
A mixed race gang of kids nine to seventeen.”
“Here in Gold Rush?”
“El Torro County. Fifty kids from broken homes wanting to belong to something. I
was fourteen when I stole the books and tapes from my father.” He went silent a moment,
as if tracing his memory. “Anyway, there was this girl I really liked in the gang. Tabitha.
She was only fourteen, too.”
“So young.”
“Yeah.” He scrubbed both hands over his face. “We were platonic friends for six
months. We kissed and fooled around, but I knew we weren’t ready for sex.”
“You were very mature for your age to realize that.”
He laughed softly, a sound of derision. “She pressed the issue, believe it or not. One
day she confessed she was pregnant.”
Shock held her still for a moment. “You went ahead and had sex?”
“No.” His mouth was tight. “I freaked. I was hurt, jealous, you name it. Then she
confessed what had happened.” A spasm crossed his features. “Her father was
responsible for her condition.”
Oh. “Her father? Oh, God. Incest.”
He slumped against the back of the couch and folded his hands over his stomach.
“You can imagine how sick I was. Her mother had died and that’s when her father
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