to him since,” he added curtly. “I was placed in state custody until I was adopted by a kind older couple who didn’t have any kids of their own. They were well-to-do. I was spoiled. But it didn’t quite make up for what I’d lost. And I didn’t live with them long, just until the fire that took their lives.”
“What about your mother’s people?” she wondered.
“Dead,” he said icily. “I wouldn’t have known, but I turned out to be the only legal heir they had. I inherited their estate.” Which amounted to a few million dollars, but he didn’t say so.
“I’m really sorry,” she said softly. “I can only imagine how hard that would have been for you. But at least you had somebody who loved you, J.C. A lot of people don’t even have that.”
“I know.”
Her fingers tightened on his. “You’re still living in the past,” she said, her voice tender. “You can’t do that. Life doesn’t have a reset button.”
He laughed shortly. “Tell me about it.” He took a breath. “I lived in the Yukon Territory in Canada, but I was born in Montana. My folks were visiting a cousin who lived near Billings when Mom went into labor. So I have dual citizenship. When I was old enough, I joined the American Army,” he added, skipping over much that had happened to him in between. “I served overseas, in Special Forces, which is where I met Ren and your brother.”
“Were you in the Army a long time?” she asked.
“Somewhat.”
So there were still secrets. He didn’t trust her enough to tell her. But he’d told her things she was certain he hadn’t shared with any other woman. It was flattering.
“Then there was her,” he added coldly, and his fingers became bruising.
“Her?”
“Cecelia,” he said through his teeth. “I was just out of basic training. I’d never been to a town larger than Whitehorse, up in the Yukon. Just a few thousand people, an isolated community,” he added. “I wound up in New Jersey on liberty. I didn’t smoke or drink, so I always had pocket money, even before I inherited my grandparents’ estate. Cecelia knew one of the boys in my unit, and he said I was loaded. So she came looking for me.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, because she could guess where this was going.
“I didn’t know that, of course. I thought it was an accidental meeting, when one of my friends in basic introduced me to her. I didn’t know she’d arranged it.” He stared straight ahead. “She was beautiful. The most beautiful human creature I’d ever seen. She was poised, sophisticated, talented.” He grimaced. “I thought she was perfect. I fell head over heels in love the first night. She could turn me inside out. She was like a drug, an addiction. I’d never known so much pleasure.”
She was jealous, but she didn’t let on. She just listened.
He was lost in the past, drowning in misery. “We went around together for weeks. I took her to the opera, the theater, to symphony concerts. Even to a rock concert. I bought her designer clothing and diamonds. She really seemed to love me. I certainly loved her.”
His fingers were hurting, but she didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“It was her birthday. I’d bought her a sapphire necklace she’d admired at a high-end jewelry store and I went to her apartment to give it to her. The door was open. She was talking to a male friend who was with her. She was talking about me, about how stupid and gullible I was, about how she’d scammed me into buying her all sorts of expensive presents. She thought it was hilarious. I didn’t even have enough sophistication to realize that she was a call girl, that she sold her body for money.”
“What a miserable human being,” she said quietly.
He laughed. It had a hollow sound. “She was right. I was naive. But I grew up very suddenly. I opened the door and walked in. She was wearing a negligee, almost transparent, and her companion had on nothing except his underwear. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw me and realized what I’d overheard. I didn’t say a word. I turned around and walked out.”
“Did she try to call you?” she wondered.
“She asked one of my friends to tell me she was sorry and that she’d like to start over. I told him where she could go, and how fast. I never saw her again.”
“I really do live a sheltered life,” she remarked after a minute. “I didn’t know there were people like that in the world. I don’t really understand greed. I’ve never felt it.”
“I noticed that about you.”
She smiled. “I like simple things. Flower gardens. Kittens. Just walking in the woods. Stuff like that. I’ve never liked diamonds or fancy jewelry, or fancy clothes. It’s not me.”
He loosened the tight grip of his fingers. They became caressing. “You’re nothing like her.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated. “I think.”
He laughed. “It was a compliment.”
“Okay.”
He glanced at her curiously. “I’ve never talked about her. Or about my parents.”
“I never repeat anything I’m told. I work as a legal administrative assistant,” she added. “Even though I just basically answer the phone and take dictation, I’ve been trained to keep my mouth shut. I guess it carries over to my private life.”
“I guess.” He smiled. “You’re a good listener.”
“Sometimes people just need to talk. That’s what Daddy says. He went to see a man who was suicidal. The man put down the gun he was holding and walked out of the room with Daddy. The place was surrounded with police, even a SWAT team. They all just gawked. They asked Daddy how he talked the man out of it, and he said he didn’t say a word. He just listened. That was all the poor soul needed, somebody to just listen. He’d lost his wife and child in a wreck and he didn’t think he could go on. He had nobody to talk to. So Daddy just listened.”
“You listen, too, Colie. It’s a bigger help than you realize.” His mouth pulled to one side. “I don’t have anyone of my own,” he added quietly.
“Yes, you do,” she said boldly, and curled her fingers around his, without looking at him.
He couldn’t have imagined anyone getting a hold on his heart this quickly, but she’d managed it. She’d become the color in his life, in a space of only weeks. For her own sake, he should let her go. But he couldn’t.
* * *
HE WALKED HER to her door. The porch light was on. There was still a light burning in her father’s study. He’d be working on Sunday’s sermon, she knew. He spent days putting just the right words together.
“Your dad’s waiting up for you,” he mused.
She laughed. “Not really. He works on his Sunday sermon a little every night, until he has it the way he wants it.”
“He looks out for
