Guardian Read online

  David had gone to great lengths to explain away Leslie’s behavior for Haley Rose, how her mother loved her in her own way. She was just going through a tough time. That Leslie wanted to be a good mom and was working hard to get her life together.

  Bottom line, the woman hadn’t felt capable of dealing with her daughter in such a traumatic situation. But that didn’t erase the pain reflected in a young girl’s eyes as she realized her mother couldn’t be there for her.

  Through the whole careful explanation that no one really bought into, David’s jaw had tensed. Tendons strained along his neck, a tic twitching at the corner of one eye. When had she become so adept at reading his body language? The sense of familiarity unsettled her.

  At least Haley Rose had a father with more strength than ten people.

  Realization burned along her skin. All those accusations she’d hurled at him in the desert were groundless. David was a strong father who’d stepped up where Leslie hadn’t. He wasn’t like Lowell.

  David leaned against the outdoor banister, outdoor light streaming down over him. Nestled in the shoulder harness, his gun glinted in the moonbeams. He wove his daughter’s discarded blue ribbon around his fingers.

  Sophie jabbed another mental pin into the Leslie Berg voodoo doll. A very sharp pin.

  And yes, she was feeling possessive about a man who wasn’t hers. He deserved better than this.

  David rubbed the ribbon while staring out over the murky night water. “Leslie was the one to file for divorce, not me.”

  Sophie willed herself to be still and just listen. The lawyer in her knew that silence often worked far better than questions.

  “I would have stuck it out with my wife, even though I didn’t love her anymore. I wanted my kid to have a regular family. I didn’t want to lose my stepson, Hunter. I knew if we split, I wouldn’t be able to bring up my daughter, not the way I wanted to. And I would have no legal rights to Hunter. So I stuck it out, and she left me anyway. Hunter’s father insisted on a clean break.”

  With each hoarse word he shared, she could sense the gritty wind wearing away his walls.

  He handled the hair tie with such care, contrasting to his other hand clenched against the banister. “I hired the best lawyer I could find, even went to my old man for help. I didn’t want some fancy settlement. I just wanted to see my kid and find some way to stay in contact with Hunter.” He half smiled. “I guess you don’t need me to tell you how high divorce rates are for military families.”

  She knew he didn’t expect an answer. What could she say?

  They did have one thing in common. She and David were survivors. Maybe they came out of the fray worn and defensive, but they were still standing.

  “I thought I would have to fight for every other weekend and alternating holidays with Haley Rose.” He glanced at her, his grin darker, if possible. “Joke was on me. Leslie decided she wasn’t ready for motherhood at all, and Haley Rose would be better off with me. Hunter would go with his biological dad.”

  His pain reached to her. Being a survivor didn’t make a person numb. Sometimes there were no words to offer, no way to comfort.

  “Hunter used to sneak calls to me every three or four weeks. I would remind him his father would still see the number on the cell phone bill and that he shouldn’t lie to his dad. But it was so damn good to hear his voice, to know he’s okay. He hasn’t phoned in two months.”

  “You lost a lot in your divorce. Too much, and I’m so sorry. None of this sounds fair to any of you.”

  “I guess I should feel lucky Leslie didn’t fight me on custody for Haley Rose. But all I could think was this beautiful, quirky, brilliant kid—the most miraculous thing I’ve ever seen—would always know her mother didn’t want her.”

  The ribbon fluttered from his hand. There were so many ways to abandon people. Maybe she’d been better off not knowing her mother, a woman who wasn’t equipped to raise her daughter, either. Had her father felt any of the betrayal that seemed to haunt David?

  He pushed away from the banister and strode toward his car. Stopping beside the passenger door, he waited. She didn’t speak or move, mostly because she ached for him. Leslie hadn’t come through for him, and now neither had she. He carried so many burdens on those broad shoulders of his.

  Who did David have to comfort him? Something almost maternal flared within her, a need to hold him. And how twisted was that?

  “David…” She took a step toward him.

  His eyes spoke a pain his lips didn’t acknowledge. Life hurts. “We can stay here to wait for the call that the kids have arrived safely, but I have to be honest. I’m not sleeping with you under his roof.”

  His clenched fist proclaimed, I don’t want to be alone right now. “So do we stay here? Or do we go to my place at Madison’s guesthouse where I’ll make love to you until both of us can’t think about anything else?”

  His fingers, losing color with the ribbon twisted so tightly, declared, I need you.

  It wasn’t the most eloquent proposition she’d ever heard, especially with his voice so matter-of-fact. But she didn’t need the flowery words dripping with emotion.

  Right now, that pale blue ribbon told her all she needed to know about David Berg. She turned away from her house and walked to David’s Scout.

  * * *

  Madison sipped Vitaminwater while monitoring her driveway and ignoring the ringing phone. She had avoided three calls from Caleb in the past hour since David and Sophie had gone back to her house to gather the last of Brice’s things for his trip to Los Angeles. She needed to talk with her brother. She couldn’t delay any longer telling him about her affair with Caleb.

  The thought that she may have been played by Caleb so he could gain closer access to David’s private files on the case left her mortified—and furious. But as much as she wanted to hide, something was seriously wrong. David deserved to hate her forever because she hadn’t told him everything last night. If she had, he might not have been in that plane crash.

  She couldn’t bear the thought that her brother and Sophie could have died because she’d been too embarrassed to confess she’d been taken in by a man again. She was a mature, experienced woman in her forties. She should have more self-confidence than this, damn it.

  Her cell phone rang and rang. And what had possessed her to choose a song from Top Gun as the special ringtone for Caleb’s calls?

  Headlights cut through the late night toward her home, two lights like David’s classic car, not a single motorcycle headlamp. Her stomach knotted. David’s Scout pulled into the driveway, past her home, toward the guesthouse in back.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she sprinted across the house and through the French doors, out onto the balcony. Her brother was already halfway into his home, his hand planted on Sophie’s back.

  “David, can we talk now?”

  He froze mid-step, his head swinging around. “Later, Madison.”

  His voice was wearier than she could ever remember hearing.

  “I’d rather not wait.”

  Sophie stepped around him. “Did you hear from the kids?”

  “Not yet. I would have let you know that straight-away.”

  David clasped Sophie’s shoulder, his head tipped up to Madison. “Then turn on your security system and go to sleep.”

  They looked so perfect together, she couldn’t dodge the stab of jealousy. What a petty, selfish feeling after all that her brother had been through. He deserved happiness. But damn it, so did she, and right now she wanted more than anything to believe in Caleb.

  Hating herself, she took the coward’s way out, as she always had, and ducked back into her home.

  * * *

  Stepping inside David’s place, Sophie wondered how fast the hours would pass until she heard the kids were safely settled. She desperately needed a distraction.

  So much had changed in a day. Had it only been this morning that they’d all eaten pancakes with strawberries? That she’d cr
ash-landed?

  Then made love in the middle the desert?

  She rubbed her arms and looked around, soaking in the layout of the guesthouse. Like soaking in David.

  Restlessly, he moved through the compact living area with a denim sectional sofa, tossing newspapers in the trash. The place was far neater than she would have expected, just some clutter stacked by the sofa and on the kitchen table.

  She stood adrift in the middle of the living room and looked around the kitchen cubicle. If nothing else, their refrigerators were similar, a parent’s refrigerator littered with papers anchored by magnets. Her heart squeezed as she thought of the picture Ricky had drawn of his accident. Somehow thoughts of him had gotten lost in the hell of this day, and that wasn’t fair.

  Abandoning his cleaning, he opened the refrigerator and pulled a bottle of water from the back. “Want one?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Sophie, it’s okay to sit. Just because I want you doesn’t mean I’m going to pounce on you.”

  Relieved—sort of—she sank onto the sofa. The back of the couch rubbed against the cut on her head. While the wound had closed after the courthouse incident, it still felt tender to the touch, rather like her heart. She ignored the pain and smoothed the hem of her sundress over her knees.

  “It’s late, Sophie. If you want to sleep, I’ll wake you up when the kids call.” The bottle hissed as he unscrewed the top.

  How could he just stand there and talk so dispassionately to her after propositioning her a few minutes earlier back at her house? Then his eyes steamed with unmistakable heat as he looked at her over the top of the bottle. Goose bumps raised along her arms in spite of other worries.

  Something simmered in him. Something dark, a little dangerous. Part of her wanted to just take the oblivion she could find in his arms. Another part of her needed him to make the first move this time.

  He set the bottle on the counter and swiped his wrist over his mouth. David crossed the kitchen in three strides, kneeling inches in front of her.

  Sleepy-lidded eyes stared down at her as he braced both hands on either side of her on the sofa. If she leaned even a hint either way, they would touch. Her every nerve ending would ignite.

  “David?”

  “Until today, for over a year I’ve resisted the urge to take you to bed, uncover every inch of you, and show you just how good we can be together.” He seduced her without a single caress, using his low, husky tones instead.

  Over a year?

  That gave her pause—and excited her. But then when had anything with David been clear-cut or simple?

  Making love—she corrected herself—sex with this man wouldn’t be simple, wouldn’t be uncomplicated.

  A no-strings relationship was simpler. The emotional baggage they’d accumulated in the past hours complicated everything.

  He’s wanted her for over a year.

  His words still sent a ripple of excitement through her. A year and a half ago. She’d pushed the memory of their first meeting to a far niche in her mind.

  She had gone to his squadron to question an airman with a DUI. David had been in a briefing room as she stood in the hall trying to decide which way to go. He’d tipped back in his chair and their eyes locked.

  He’d straightened, his chair squeaking a long, slow call. Then he’d smiled, a confident grin with sleepy bedroom eyes. Can I help you?

  She’d always been faithful to Lowell, knew she always would be, but in that one weak moment, she yearned. Lowell had resented her job, which tied her more firmly to the home life she loved. He’d loved to fly, travel, wander, and continued to do so until they drifted further apart in their final year together.

  So for a moment, she’d allowed herself to yearn.

  Sophie had returned David’s gaze, and unwittingly, or maybe in subconscious defense, she’d twisted her wedding rings. The light in David’s eyes had dimmed. She still remembered the sense of loss over something so brief but exciting all the same.

  “Sophie,” his thumbs stroked along her thighs, “being with you today was even more fan-fucking-tastic than I could have dreamed, and believe me, I dreamed about you. A lot. Vivid dreams of undressing you, tasting you, being inside you. Maybe that doesn’t sound romantic, but you’ve gotta know you rock the ground under my feet.”

  Her hands slid to cover his. “Actually, heartfelt, impromptu words can be more romantic than scripted, flowery speeches.”

  “Good thing, since I’m not a flowery sort of guy.”

  “But you’re honest. That means…everything to me.”

  His hands slid from under hers, down her thighs, over her calves. “I can honestly say you turn me inside out the way no woman has before.”

  He stroked her ankles, lifted one foot, and pressed his thumbs into the arch.

  Her breath hitched. “I don’t know that I can do this, not while I’m waiting to hear from the kids.”

  “Does this feel good?” He massages her heel, then rolled her foot.

  Groaning, she sank deeper into the sofa. “Yes, of course it does. I just don’t want you to think this is automatically leading to more than sex because of what happened after the crash.”

  He rubbed her calf with restrained strength. “I don’t take anything for granted with you. This isn’t about sex. It’s about making you feel better, relax, and maybe even for a few minutes forget about all those worries we can’t do a damn thing about.” He paused at her knee, dipping his head just shy of kissing the crook. “Okay by you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her breath husky and so transparent, she couldn’t even lie to herself. “Make me forget.”

  His lips grazed the inside of her knee, and she’d had no idea how sensitive that spot could be. He took his time, his body wedging between her legs. She parted for him without hesitation, the ache inside her desperate for release, even a physical one.

  Inch by torturous inch, he nudged her hem up, following with warm kisses and nips. Closer. Closer still. Until her dress bunched around her waist and the soft denim against her skin reminded her of the sensuous rub of his jeans when he’d taken her in the desert. Tingles flushed upward, all the way to the roots of her hair.

  She wriggled nearer, needing firmer pressure at the core of her. He grasped her hips and held her in place while his mouth touched her everywhere just shy of making contact where she wanted him most. Her head pushed back into the sofa, releasing his scent lingering on the fabric. The scent of his soap, aftershave, and something uniquely him. She reached to grip his hair, urging him closer, to the place that ached for his touch. His kiss. The stroke of his tongue.

  His smile stroked her stomach just before he gripped her panties in his teeth and tugged them down. She arched off the sofa to help him sweep the pink satin bikini down and off. Cool air swept over her a second before…

  The warmth of his breath brushed the core of her. She couldn’t stop her moan or keep her knees from falling farther apart to give him complete access. Her fingers tangled in his close-cropped hair restlessly, then finally—thank goodness—finally, his mouth closed over her. Kissing and sucking, nipping and licking, he worked the nubbin of nerves impossibly tighter, needier.

  And for minutes or however long—she lost track just letting the delicious sensations roll over her—she did forget everything but the feel of David’s fingers digging into her hips. The rasp of his late-day beard against the inside of her thighs. The sensation of his mouth taking her as completely as if he’d been thrusting inside her again.

  Memories of their abandon in the desert sent a hot rush of bliss pumping in her veins until she flew apart. The power of her orgasm slammed through her, the force taking her by surprise. She bit her lip until she tasted blood. But David kept drawing on her oversensitive nerves, sending her higher again until her cries of another release filled the wide-open room every bit as completely as David filled her life.

  Wilting in the aftermath, she relaxed into the sofa. He eased from her slowly, pressing
a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then her hip bone. He wiped his face on the hem of her dress.

  Smoothly, he scooped her up and into his lap as he settled on the sofa. He smoothed her dress back over her legs, even though her panties still lay somewhere on the tile floor. She didn’t speak—didn’t think she could have yet—and thank goodness he stayed silent, too.

  He’d done exactly what he’d promised in making her forget for a while. But even David Berg couldn’t keep the outside world at bay forever.

  TWELVE

  Court had been torturously long today.

  Sophie smacked her briefcase on the wooden counsel table, frustrated over how the verdict could go either way if something big didn’t happen soon. She wanted definitive answers in her work.

  And yes, in personal life, too.

  She slapped the files inside, one after the other, then pitched her pen on top. She was tired, cranky, and desperately in need of David.

  After their encounter on the sofa, they’d made love again in his king-size bed. Once the phone had rung with a call from Nanny that the kids were safe and sound in Los Angeles, Sophie had curled up next to David and slept.

  Deeply.

  So much so, she’d overslept and almost been late for court. There’d been little time to talk this morning, just enough to toss on clothes and put her makeup on in the car while David drove. They had agreed on one thing. The time had come to visit with Ricky’s family tonight, to review their statements and those of the cousin who’d been babysitting him the night of the accident.

  A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jolted. Looking back, she found her boss. Her husband’s old friend. Here in the courtroom, though, he was definitely her boss.

  Lieutenant Colonel Geoffrey Vaughn leaned on the edge of the table. “Hang in there. This case will be over before you know it, and life can return to normal.”

  “I’m fine, Colonel. Just a little tired.”

  “Sophie,” he lowered his voice, “seriously, off the record, how are you?”