Long-Lost Mom

“I guess I had what you would call an epiphany,” she shouted, then nodded at the saw. “Do you think you could turn it off now? Please?”

It was ridiculous, juvenile even, to have this conversation over the roar of the saw. But he didn’t care, and he sent another perfectly good piece of wood to its death. “I’m trying to work here, Jenna.”

“Stone Cameron, you’re just being stubborn.” Eyes flashing her fury, she pushed in front of him, turning so she presented the back of that perfect body of hers to his hungry gaze. Scooting between him and the saw, she bent to reach for the switch.

Her curvaceous bottom bumped into the front of his thighs.

Instinct-and raging lust-had his hands starting to lift to grasp her hips. Abruptly he forced his hands to his sides.

With a good amount of body contact, she finally flipped off the saw, then turned and glared at him. Had she noticed his physical condition? Her cheeks were on fire, and he doubted it was all anger.

Yeah. She’d noticed.

Okay, so hell. They still shared an attraction with the force and unpredictability of an active volcano. He could deal with that, though. He wasn’t just some hormone-driven adolescent.

“Can you listen now?” she asked.

“No. I’ve got a meeting downtown.” He strode to the door, needing to get out now or lose whatever self-control he still had.

“Fine. Great,” she said to his back. He could hear the wobble in her voice and closed his ears to it because his anger was the only thing getting him through. “But I’ll be here when you get back, Stone. Sooner or later we have to talk.”

The later the better, in his opinion. Maybe later he’d be able to squelch down his need to both throttle and kiss her.

And then again, maybe later she’d have taken off again, and the whole point would be moot.

Jenna stood in there, her heart just as empty as Stone’s office. He had preferred work to facing her, a rather deflating thought.

His phone rang, startling her.

So did the message. Sara had been caught “defacing public property,” whatever that meant, and now she was sitting in the principal’s office awaiting parental guidance.

Jenna panicked.

Stone was gone, and Sara needed a parent at the school as soon as possible.

A parent.

That was her.

Panic faded to fury-at herself.

As she stood there quaking in indecision, her precious daughter, yes, daughter, dammit, was sitting in the principal’s office.

Principal Rand Ridgeway.

A man who’d once terrified Jenna, a man who’d gotten away with it then, but who wouldn’t get away with it ever again if she had anything to say about it.

Without stopping to think, she scribbled a note for Stone, then grabbed her keys and ran out the door.

Thinking of nothing but protecting Sara, she drove to the school. It wasn’t until she pulled into the parking lot and took the last available space, next to the principal-oh, God, the principal-that dread filled her.

What was she doing? No one was going to release Sara to a perfect stranger. No matter that the perfect stranger was Sara’s mother. Jenna couldn’t reveal that until she and Stone had talked this out, until they’d come up with a plan for the best way to tell Sara the truth.

If he ever agreed to tell Sara the truth at all.

No time to think about that, Jenna decided, pressing her hands to her rolling stomach. Not when there were so many other things to get sick over.

Like the fact her childhood nemesis had her daughter in his clutches.

Jenna swallowed hard and forced herself to look up at the two-story school building. Forced herself to picture poor Sara sitting in the principal’s office waiting to be rescued, and afraid he’d do to Sara what he’d done to her.

She ran all the way through the parking lot to the big double doors of the school. The warm stuffy air hit her. So did the old familiar smell of pencil shavings, copy toner and teen sweat. Jenna’s legs turned to rubber.

Horrible memories hit, for school had not been a happy place. She’d been considered a troublemaker and, as a result, had spent much time in this very front office.

The bench was still there against the wall in front of the receptionist’s desk. How many afternoons had she spent sitting on it, waiting for the principal to see her?

Waiting for him to give her that slick knowing smile as he motioned her to come into his office, where he’d then deliver blistering lectures on the evils of disappointing her hardworking mother…

Where he’d set the tone and mood for her to fear him, hate him, so that when they’d been at her own house, with her mother out, she hadn’t known how to protect herself from him.

She still didn’t, she had to admit as her hands went clammy, her pulse threadlike.

“Can I help you?”

Jenna jumped and looked at the receptionist. “I’m here to see Rand Ridgeway.”

“Certainly. Your name?”

“Jen-Cindy,” she corrected quickly, hating herself. “Cindy Beatty. I’m…a close friend of Sara Cameron’s family, and I work for Stone. He’s not available at the moment.” Dragging in a deep breath and willing herself to stop rambling, she gave a tight smile. “Can I see them now, please?”

“This way.”

Jenna knew all too well which way to go. To the corner office, with the closed shutters and thick wood paneling that prevented any sound from carrying through the walls.

A drop of sweat trickled down between her breasts. Each footstep rang hollowly, but she kept moving. I’m coming, baby, she silently vowed to Sara. I’m coming for you.

“Mr. Ridgeway?” the receptionist called out, opening his door. “A Ms. Beatty to see you.”

No, Jenna wanted to cry. I want to see Sara, not him!

But the woman had ushered her into Rand’s office, shutting the door behind her.

Jenna whirled in alarm, staring at the closed door as if it were the last nail in her coffin.

Sara, she told herself as she drew a ragged breath. Remember Sara.

Turning back to face the desk, she glanced around for her daughter, but the room was empty-except for the man who defined her nightmares sitting behind the desk.

He stood immediately and, walking around to the front of his desk, held out his hand.

Jenna stared at it in horror, realizing he expected her to take it. As nausea welled up, she was forced to listen to his slick pleased voice.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Beatty. What can I do for you?”

She was still staring at his hand, felt sickened by the way his big heavy body loomed over her.

Rand’s eyes narrowed slightly when she didn’t speak or move, but he kept his polite smile in place. His eyes roamed over her speculatively, causing her to shudder. “We’ve met before,” he said suddenly, and before she could stop herself, Jenna took a step back.

“No,” she said.

“Yes,” he insisted, closing the space between them, while that grating smile of his never dimmed. “I’ve definitely seen you before. I would never forget such a beautiful face.”

Jenna bit back hysterical laughter and held up her hand as he came closer still, a part of her locked back in time to when she’d been young, naive and helpless. “I said no.”

He tipped his head and studied her. “At a game. I remember seeing you in the stands. Do you have a child here at the school?”