back. With her firm breasts crushed against his chest, the first tug of desire stirred low in his gut. He pulledGina into him and heated things up until all he felt was lust and the rain soaking his skin through his shirt. Hereplaced all thoughts of brown eyes and cheerleader skirts with the woman pressing herself against his buttonfly.
Daisy Monroe raised her hand to the screen door then lowered it again. Her heart pounded in her chest and herstomach twisted into one big knot. Rain beat against the porch all around her, and water ran from the downspoutand into the flower beds. The garage behind her was lit up, illuminating every nook and cranny surroundingParrish American Classics. But where she stood was pitch black, as if the light didn't dare creep any farther intothe yard.
The garage was new, rebuilt since she'd seen it before. The yard surrounding the garage had been cleaned up.
The old cars towed away. From what she could see the house was exactly the same, though, bringing a memoryof a nice summer breeze lifting her hair and carrying the scent of roses. Of the many nights she'd sat on theporch where she now stood, wedged between Steven and Jack, laughing at their stupid jokes.
Thunder and lightning boomed and lit up the night sky, shattering the memory. An omen that she should leaveand come back again some other time.
She wasn't good at confrontation. She wasn't one of those people who liked to face problems head oil. She wasbetter at it than she used to be, but maybe she should have called first. It wasn't polite to just show up onsomeone's doorstep at ten o'clock at night, and she probably looked like a drowned cat.
Before she'd left her mother's house, she'd made sure her hair was brushed smooth and flipped tinder just belowher shoulders. Her makeup looked perfect and her white blouse and khaki pants pressed. Now she was sure herhair had frizzed, mascara had run, and her pants were splattered with mud from the puddle she'd accidentallydashed through. She turned to go, then forced herself to turn hack. Her appearance wasn't really important, andthere was never going to he a good time for what she had to do. She'd been in town three days already. She hadto talk to Jack. Tonight. She'd put it off long enough. She had to tell him what she'd been keeping from him forfifteen years.
She raised her hand once more and nearly jumped out of her skin when the wooden door Swung open beforeshe could knock. Through the screen and dark interior, she could make out the outline of a man. His shirt wasmissing, and a light from deep within the house cast a warm golden glow from behind, pouring over his armsand shoulders and halfway down his naked chest. She definitely should have called first.
'Hello,' she began before she could give into her trepidation. 'I'm looking for Jackson Parrish.'
'My-my,' his voice drawled in the darkness, 'ii it isn't Daisy Lee Brooks.'
It had been fifteen years and his voice had changed. It was deeper than the boy she'd known, but she would haverecognized that nasty tone anywhere. No one could pack as much derision into his new him anymore.
'Hello, Jack.'
'What do you want, Daisy?'
She stared at him through the screen and shadows, at the outline of the man she'd once known so well. The knotin her stomach pulled tighter. 'I wanted to... I need to talk to you. And I-I thought... ' She took a deep breathand forced herself to stop stammering. She was thirty-three. So was he. 'I wanted to tell you that I was in townbefore you heard it from someone else.'
'Too late.' The rain pounded the rooftop and the silence stretched between them. She could feel his gaze on her.
It touched her face and the front of her yellow rain slicker; and just when she thought he wasn't going to speakagain, he said, 'If that's what you came to tell me, you can go now.'
There was more. A lot more. She'd promised Steven that she'd give Jack a letter he'd written a few monthsbefore his death. The letter was in her coat pocket, now she had to tell Jack the truth about what had happenedfifteen years ago, then hand over the letter. 'It's important that I talk to you. Please.'
He looked at her for several long moments, then he turned and disappeared into the depths of his house. Hedidn't open the screen for her, but he hadn't slammed the wood door in her face either. He'd made it clear that hewas going to he as difficult as possible. But then, when had he ever made things easy?
Just as it always had, the screen door squeaked when she opened it. She followed him through the living roomtoward the kitchen. His tall outline disappeared around the corner, but she knew the way.
The inside of the house smelled of new paint. She got an impression of dark furniture and a big- screentelevision, saw the outline of Mrs. Parrish's piano pushed against one wall-and she wondered briefly how muchhad changed since she'd last walked through the house. The light flipped on as she moved into the kitchen, andit was like stepping into a time warp. She half expected to see Mrs. Parrish standing in front by the almond- colored stove, baking bread or Daisy's favorite snicker-doodle cookies. The green linoleum had the same wornpatch in front of the sink and the counter tops were the same speckled blue and turquoise.
Jack was in front of the refrigerator, the top half of him hidden behind the open door. His tan fingers werecurled around the chrome handle, and all she could really see of him was the curve of his behind and his longlegs. One pocket of his snug Levi's had a three-corner tear, and the seams looked like they were just about wornthrough.
Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Then herose to his full height, and everything seemed to slow, like someone flipped a switch on a movie projector. Heturned as he shut the refrigerator door, and he held a quart of milk in his hand by his thigh. Her attention gotmomentarily stuck on the thin line of dark hair rising from the waistband of his Levi's and circling his navel.
She lifted her gaze up past the hair on his flat belly and the defined muscles of his chest. If she'd had anylingering doubts, seeing him like this removed them. This was not the boy she'd once known. This wasdefinitely a man.
She forced herself to look up at his strong chin, the etched how of his tan lips, and into his eyes. She felt theback of her throat go dry. Jack Parrish had always been a good-looking boy, now he was lethal. One lock of histhick hair hung over his forehead and touched his brow. Those light green eyes that she remembered, that hadonce looked at her so full of passion and possession, looked back at her as if he were no more interested inseeing her than a stray dog.
'Did you come here to stare?'
She moved farther into the kitchen and shoved tier hands into the pockets of her raincoat. 'No, I came to tellyou that I'm in town visiting my mother and sister.'
He raised the milk and drank from the carton, waiting for her to elaborate.
'I thought you should know.'
His gaze met hers over the carton, then he lowered it. Some things hadn't changed after all. Jack Parrish, badboy and all around hell-raiser, had always been a milk drinker. 'What makes you think I give a shit?' he askedand wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
'I didn't know if you would. I mean, I did wonder what you'd think, but I wasn't sure.' This was so much harderthan she'd envisioned. And what she'd envisioned had been pretty dang hard.
'Now you don't have to wonder.' He pointed with his milk carton toward the other room. 'If that's all, there'sthe door.'
'No, that's not all.' She looked down at the toes of her boots, the black leather spotted by the rain. 'Stevenwanted me to tell you something. He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry about everything.' She shook herhead and corrected herself. 'No... was sorry, I mean. He's been gone seven months and it's still hard for me toremember him in the past tense. It seems wrong somehow. Like if I do, he never existed.' She looked back atJack. His expression hadn't changed. 'The flowers you sent were really nice.'
He shrugged and set the milk on the counter. 'Penny sent them.'
'Penny?'
'Penny Colten. Married Leon Kribs. She works for me now.'
'Thank Penny for me.' But Penny hadn't sent them and signed his name without his knowledge.
'Don't make it a big deal.'
She knew how much Steven had once meant to him. 'Don't pretend you don't care that he's gone.'
He raised a dark brow. 'You forget I tried to kill him.
'You wouldn't have killed him, Jack.'
No, you're right. I guess you just weren't worth it.'
