One Night by Debbie Macomber
“Of course not. She was born Lillian Harris, but for a brief time, one summer I believe, she was a flower child in California. That’s where she met my father, who abandoned her the minute he learned I was on the way. If he even knew about me, that is; not that he would have cared one way or the other. Unfortunately those days were the best of my mother’s life. In her mind, she’s never left Haight-Ashbury. Never forgotten the one man she loved. Hell, she didn’t even know his legal name. Moonrunner,” he said, laughing sarcastically, “is all she was ever able to tell me about my father. Her precious Moonrunner. She’s been chasing moonbeams ever since. She’s got one foot in the sixties and another in the nineties. If you want to pity anyone, pity my mother.”
Carrie sensed the pain in his voice more than she heard it. “Go ahead and laugh,” Kyle said bitterly. “Ringo’s a great name for a kid, isn’t it?”
“I’m not laughing.”
“But you wanted to,” he challenged. “I read the amusement in your eyes. Go ahead. I don’t blame you, it’s downright hilarious.”
For months Carrie would have sold her eyeteeth to have something on Kyle. His cool, unshakable composure had left her wanting to say or do something that would rattle him. Just once. She wasn’t greedy, not by any means. One time was all she wanted.
Now the moment had come, Carrie found herself incapable of saying anything. Instead she felt a burning compassion for a little boy who’d been taunted and teased because of an unusual name.
The need to touch him was irresistible. Barely aware of what she was doing, she stepped onto the leather ottoman so that their gazes met at eye level.
“Come here,” she instructed, urging him forward with her index finger.
He took two steps in her direction, just enough for her to reach for him and put her arms around his neck. She was surprised by the resistance she felt when she pressed her mouth to his.
He clasped his hands about her waist, as if he intended to push her away or lift her from the ottoman, Carrie didn’t know which.
The moist tip of her tongue outlined the shape of his mouth. Some of the restraint she’d felt in him eased, granting her a sense of unfamiliar power. When Kyle kissed her, she was the one left feeling weak and vulnerable. This experience was new, and she found it exhilarating. Tightening her hold on him, she pressed her breasts against his chest and marveled at the way her nipples tingled, reminding her of the glorious things he’d taught her and the tidal wave of pleasure he’d introduced her to.
Whatever hesitation Kyle had experienced earlier vanished completely. He groaned and wrapped his arms completely about her. Taking control of the kiss, he angled his mouth over hers, kissing her until a frightening kind of excitement took control.
“Now you’ve done it,” he said, between kisses.
“Done what?” she asked on the tail end of a sigh.
“You don’t kiss a man like this and expect it to end there.”
“You don’t?” It took several moments for her brain to assimilate what he was saying. Even then she found his words difficult to decipher.
“Not to worry, I’m prepared this time.”
“Prepared?” Carrie was vaguely aware she was beginning to sound like a parrot.
“The drugstore,” he murmured, his lips tenderly moving against hers. “I have everything we’ll ever need.”
“You got it at a drugstore?”
His hands were in her hair, splayed at the sides of her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
“No,” she said with a giggle.
Groaning, he lifted her from the recliner; her feet dangled six inches off the ground. He was kissing her as if this were the only way to convince her how badly he needed her in his bed.
The sound of the doorbell seemed to come from a long way away. The buzz had to battle its way through the fog of desire that had taken her by storm. Thank heaven Kyle was in control of his senses.
“That must be Richards,” he murmured, his breathing heavy. His shoulders moved up and down with a hard sigh as he slowly lowered her feet to the floor. He pressed his forehead to hers, but when the doorbell sounded once more he abruptly broke away.
She reached out to him, pressing her hand against his forearm when he started to move away from her. “You bought…you went to the drugstore?”
He nodded. “We don’t have a thing to worry about. I’ve got a ten-year supply, although the way I’m feeling right now we could exhaust all my resources tonight.”
Where she found the strength to smile, Carrie didn’t know.
By the time Kyle returned with two Secret Service agents, she’d managed to compose herself.
“Hello again,” she said, exchanging brief handshakes with both Sam Richards and Agent Bates, whose first name turned out to be Charles.
“Sit down,” Kyle said, motioning toward the sofa.
Once everyone was seated, Richards reached for a pad and pen. He directed his attention to Carrie.
She didn’t like this man, but she trusted him. She had no choice. “I saw Max Sanders this afternoon,” she announced.
The two government agents exchanged looks but gave no outward appearance that what she’d said surprised them in any way.
“Aren’t you going to laugh and tell me it’s implausible and that I only think I saw Sanders?” She said this for Kyle’s benefit, certain the three men would get a real laugh over her allegedly finding Sanders in a crowd.
“We’re not the least bit surprised,” Agent Richards replied. “We’ve been waiting for something like this to happen. If anything, we’re surprised it took this long.”
Carrie tossed a triumphant look at Kyle and bit her lip to keep from saying she’d told him so.
“What do you mean you’ve been waiting?” Kyle demanded. He wasn’t taking this information sitting down, she noted, but now that he was on his feet he looked ill at ease. “Next thing I know you’re going to tell me you’re having us followed.”
Richards and Bates briefly lowered their eyes.
“You’ve been following us?” Carrie cried, leaping to her own feet, standing next to Kyle.
“You’ve tapped the phones as well, haven’t you,” Kyle said, and although it was in the form of a question, it wasn’t one.
Not answering, Bates flipped through the pages of his small pad. “We figured something was about to break after all the hang-up calls you’ve been receiving.”
“That was Sanders?” Carrie cried, wrapping her arm around Kyle’s. “I’ve gotten several. What about you?” she asked him.
He nodded. She noticed that his jaw had gone rigid and his skin had paled beneath his tan. He tucked his arm protectively around Carrie’s shoulders, as if having her close meant he was better able to guard her.
“What’s he want?” Kyle asked, his voice level and hard.
“We believe he left something with you.”
“What?” Carrie wanted to know.
“Your guess is as good as ours. We went over your car with a fine-tooth comb and found nothing. But we aren’t the only ones looking for him. Sanders has double-crossed the wrong people. We know he had to get rid of what he had with him, and fast. Somehow he found a way of leaving it with you.”
“You think he gave us the plates?” Carrie asked. “Surely we would have found them if that were true.”
“You were his only chance.”
Kyle wasn’t buying that. “Did you ever stop to consider he might have used us as a decoy?”
The two agents briefly glanced at each other. It seemed to Carrie that they needed some unspoken mutual approval before one of them had permission to speak.
“That thought has crossed our minds,” Richards said, “but if that were the case, Sanders wouldn’t be paying you this much attention. One thing’s for certain. You’ve got something he wants.”
“How can you be so sure?” Carrie asked.
“He wouldn’t be risking his neck hanging around Kansas City otherwise.
“You think I’ve got something he wants?” Kyle asked.
“Or Ms. Jamison.”
“Me?” Carrie whirled around and faced Kyle. “I think this is the perfect time for a vacation, don’t you? I want you to meet my parents anyway. We could—”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t allow you to leave town,” Bates cut in.
“We can’t leave town? In other words we’re sitting ducks?” Her voice rose a full octave.
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Richards said calmly. “He’d just follow you, and where Sanders goes Nelson follows.”
“Nelson?”
“Philip T. Nelson,” Bates said, as if he fully expected them to recognize the name. “He’s a top-notch counterfeiter with a record that goes back fifteen years. He’d done time for just about every crime, including murder.”
“Murder?” The word had a difficult time escaping the trap in her throat.
“We don’t mean to frighten you, Ms. Jamison, but it’s better that you learn the truth from us instead of bumping heads with one of Nelson’s boys.”
“Sanders is getting desperate if he’s taken the risk of being seen,” Richards said, holding eye contact with Kyle. “Be on your guard.”
Kyle nodded.
“Be on your guard,” Carrie repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just be careful,” Bates advised. “We’ve got a twenty-four-hour watch on you both, so you don’t have to worry. Maintain your usual routine and leave the rest to us.”
“Pretend nothing’s different,” Richards added.
“That shouldn’t be any problem,” Carrie said sarcastically.
A half hour later, long before Carrie’s questions could be fully answered, the two agents left. The instant the door snapped into place, Kyle took Carrie by the shoulders.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight. From here on, wherever you go, I go.”
“Are you nuts?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “You can move in with me…my place is bigger.”
“Kyle, you’re not making any sense.”
He moved from her shoulders to her arms, his grip punishing. “Don’t you understand?” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “This changes everything. There are men out there who think we’ve got something we don’t. Your life is in danger. If they ever got hold of you, there’s no telling what would happen.”
“That’s why you want me to move in with you?”
“Yes,” he said with ill grace. “I need to keep an eye on you.”
“Richards and Bates said we’re being watched. We don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Yes, we do, Carrie.” He wouldn’t let her make light of their predicament.
“But why do I need to move here?” she wanted to know. “You could live with me just as easily.”
Kyle’s gaze narrowed. “This is my turf. Besides, I have two bedrooms.”
Carrie couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you honestly think we’re going to need two bedrooms?”
12
Across the street from Harris’s house, Sanders hid behind the bushes and waited until it was dark. The minute Richards and Bates arrived, he knew his ploy had worked. The woman had seen him at the grand opening just the way he’d planned. Good, that was exactly what he wanted.
Someone needed to warn those two innocents that they were in serious danger. An agent sitting in his car outside their respective houses was next to zero protection. At least now they were aware of what they were up against. The thought of Nelson getting his hands on either of them was enough to make his skin crawl.
Sanders could have saved himself a good deal of trouble if he’d been able to get to Kyle Harris’s car. Damn, but this business was frustrating the hell out of him. He’d broken into the young man’s garage and found a car all right, but it wasn’t the BMW. Sanders wished to hell he knew what the kid had done with the car. His best guess was that Harris had taken it to a repair shop, but it wasn’t the BMW dealer in town. He should know, he’d checked.
Damn fool kid didn’t have a clue to the danger he was in. The woman either. There was nothing Sanders could do but bide his time. Once the car was back, he’d get what he needed and be on his way.
He was getting too old for this, Sanders decided. He was losing his touch, too. Not a good thing to do at this point in his career. The thought of retiring on some tropical island was beginning to hold substantial appeal.
If he lived that long.
With Nelson on his tail, the future wasn’t nearly as bright as he would have liked. He hadn’t wanted to involve those kids, but he didn’t have any choice. Someone had ratted on him. That day he’d seen the state patrol car he wasn’t immediately concerned. His disguise was adequate, and the truck was clean. But then he’d seen the interest he’d generated and the way the state patrolman had radioed his dispatcher.
That was when Sanders knew there was an APB out on him. What surprised him was that the authorities didn’t immediately pursue him. Not long afterward, he noticed he was being followed. That was when he left the highway and tried to lose the tail. His luck didn’t hold. From the looks of it, he was within a hair of being captured when he stumbled on those two kids.
Involving someone else, especially a nice young couple like Kyle Harris and Carrie Jamison, wasn’t his style. Protecting them wasn’t his job either, but hell, he couldn’t help it; he felt responsible.
That was the crux of his problem, feeling responsible. He hadn’t been cut out for this line of work, but he’d never managed to convince McKinzie of that. Over the years, he’d given up trying.
One thing he had to do, though, before he made his move was prove to this couple exactly how vulnerable they were. Slipping through the bushes and across the street, he moved carefully toward the house and then disappeared into the night before anyone knew he’d been there.
Then he sat back and smiled.
Carrie peeked inside the brown paper bag. “You bought all this at a pharmacy?” she asked, withdrawing several interesting-looking products.
Kyle grabbed the sack out of her hand and stuffed the prophylactics back inside. “Never mind.”
“What’s in the box?” she asked, cranning her neck for a better view.
“What box?”
“The big one.”
He looked decidedly uncomfortable as he removed a home pregnancy kit and set it on the kitchen table. “We’re going to need it, aren’t we?” he asked, studying her closely.
Carrie had the distinct impression that he was looking for her to tell him it had all been a false alarm. “I think we might,” she said, disliking the way her voice dipped several decibels. She was far more comfortable ignoring the fact she was a tiny bit behind schedule.
“You’re late?”
“A little,” she said with a shrug, wanting to make light of it.
“How late?” His voice was clipped and anxious.
“Not much,” she announced cheerfully. “Just a few days.”
“Exactly how many is a few?”
“Three, four—but I’m usually as regular as a clock.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I don’t know.”
Kyle peeled open the home pregnancy kit as if all the answers to life’s problems were packaged inside. He pulled out the container and the instruction booklet and set them on the tabletop.
Folding her arms, Carrie announced in serious tones, “I’m not taking a home pregnancy test.”
Kyle flattened the instruction sheet against the table. “Why not?”
“I’d prefer to make an appointment with my gynecologist.”
Kyle considered this for a moment, then asked, “How long will it take before you can get one?”
“Not long. A week or so.”
Carrie bit into her trembling lower lip. “Now?”
“You have something better to do?”
Scrubbing out the bottom of her refrigerator came to mind. “Not really.” She lowered herself onto the chair, feeling very much as if she were standing next to a hangman.
Kyle read the instructions aloud. It was a simple procedure, she decided. Painless—physically, at least. Emotionally was another story. Personally she’d rather not know this soon. If she was pregnant, heaven help her, she didn’t want to have to deal with all it entailed quite yet. Nor was she prepared to deal with Kyle’s reaction.
“Are you ready for step one?” Kyle asked when he’d finished reading.
“Trust me, Kyle, I think we’re way past step one.”
He looked up and grinned at her; then he sat down next to her and reached for her hand. Carrie’s fingers curled tightly around his.
“What are we going to do if I’m pregnant?” she asked, and then shook her head, not wanting an answer. She already knew. “You’re going to insist we get married, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” he returned.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. “I was afraid of that.”
“You don’t want to marry me?”
The indignation in his voice startled her. “It isn’t a question of wanting,” she said, trying hard not to trample his maddening pride.
“Apparently we need to clear the air right here and now,” Kyle said, in dictatorial tones that raised her hackles. “If you’re pregnant, there’s no question of what we’re going to do. We’ll get a marriage license first thing Monday morning.”
“For all you know, the child might not even be yours,” she said, although if he even seemed to believe her she’d slap him.
Kyle closed his eyes and flattened his hands on the tabletop as if he meant to push himself upright. But he didn’t. Apparently this was a technique he employed to control his temper.
“We’re leaping to conclusions here without knowing the facts,” he said. “Take the pregnancy test, and then we can argue to your heart’s content.”