Page 120 of Whispers

“Isn’t it?” He rolled off her, but pulled her close, cradling her in his arms, kissing her neck, sighing into her hair.

She froze as his words sank in. Was he using her? Is that what he was trying to say? Her throat was suddenly thick and she wondered what had possessed her, what had caused her to let down her guard and let him get so close to her? “I—I should be going.”

“Not yet.” Strong arms pinned her to his side.

“

But, the kids—”

“—will be fine. Stay just a minute, Claire. Let me hold you.”

“Why? So that I’ll tell you something about the past that you don’t already know? So that I’ll change my story?”

“No. Just because I want a little peace in my life.” He levered up on one elbow, his naked body stretched close to hers. “Is that so hard to understand?” His gaze, dark with the night, delved deep into hers.

“I—I want to trust you.”

“Do.”

“But you’re trying to ruin my father, my family, everything that I believe in.”

“No, darlin’,” he drawled, stroking her hair. “I’m just looking for the truth.”

“And you believe that the truth can never hurt a person.”

“Nope. The truth stings like a bitch sometimes, but it’s better than living a lie.”

She wondered. But she had lived a lie for so long, she probably wouldn’t know the difference. “Really, I’ve got to get back.” She reached for her clothes, but he stopped her, grabbing her wrist with one big hand.

“Just believe that whatever happens, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But you will,” she said, finally understanding and feeling the cold breath of doom whisper through her heart. This man was driven by unknown forces, and he wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t give up, until he knew the truth. “You will,” she said, reaching for her clothes. “Because you think you have no choice.”

“I don’t.”

“Wrong, Kane. We all have choices.” Yes, and you choose not to tell him the truth about Sean. Now, you’ve made love to Sean’s father again. Oh, Claire. Will you never learn?

Twenty-eight

“Looks like your kids are surviving,” Kane observed as he watched Claire in the kitchen, where she was pouring them each a caffeine boost. He’d had to pry Sean off the Harley. The kid couldn’t stop asking questions about the machine, wanted to ride it over and over, and had only agreed to go upstairs to bed when Kane had promised to bring the motorcycle over at another time and teach him how to ride. At least the boy was warming to him, though there was still distrust in Sean’s eyes whenever Kane touched Claire. So the kid was protective of his mother.

“Promoting Sean’s riding your bike isn’t a good idea,” Claire had warned at the time, but Sean was in seventh heaven, and, the way Kane saw it, the kid needed something to look forward to in his life. He obviously missed his friends back in Colorado. The few kids he’d picked up with here in Chinook were borderline punks and hoods. Like you were.

“Here,” Claire said, handing him a cup of coffee, liquor, and whipped cream. “Let’s have these outside.”

Together they walked to the porch and sat on the old swing. The sounds of the night closed in on them—a moth flitting against the windows, cars whizzing by on the highway, fish leaping in the lake, a train rattling on far-off tracks, and the muffled throb of a heavy metal CD pounding through Sean’s open bedroom window on the second floor.

“You’re right. Sean and Sam are surviving here—Sam better than Sean, but he’s older, had more friends.”

“He’ll find his niche here.”

“Mmm. Kids are resilient,” she said, though, from her expression, he assumed it killed her to think of the pain her children had borne.

“More resilient than you?” He had one arm slung around her shoulders and he rubbed the back of her neck.

She sighed and leaned her head back, exposing the white length of her throat, causing him to get hard all over again. What was it about this woman? One look and he was lost, his blood on fire. It had always been this way, probably always would be.

“More resilient than me? Maybe.” She blew across her cup, and he tried not to stare at the way her lips puckered suggestively.