The Signature (A Perfect Forever Novel) Page 9

  “Friends don’t walk away when you’re hurting. No matter what you say,” he whispered, the softness of his words doing nothing to lessen their force. “I’m a good listener, if you need to talk.”

  She looked up at him, tired and confused.

  He brushed the tumbling blond strands from her face, and his eyes met hers directly. The tenderness of his touch made the tears flow more freely. “I’m not leaving,” he repeated softly. “What happened, Christine?”

  Staring down at his hands, she felt a relief that was bittersweet. She was so tired of being alone, so tired of being afraid, and so tired of pretending she was neither. It had been so long since she’d had a friend. Someone who cared. Someone to talk to.

  “Sometimes I have dreams...” she choked out, before she knew what she was doing “...bad dreams. About something that happened a long time ago. I thought they’d finally gone away. It had been two weeks since the last one. And then last night...”

  “It came back,” Devon finished when it became obvious that she could not.

  It took a moment before she could meet his eyes. What did he think of her, finding her like this, all because of a nightmare?

  Steeling herself, she looked up at his face. The words began to bubble upward inside of her, and frantically she sank her teeth into her lower lip.

  She looked away from Devon. “Please, go away.”

  “Don’t be afraid. Not of me. Whatever you’re holding in is tying you in knots. It’ll do you good to let it out. Maybe then the nightmares would stop. Have you ever considered that?”

  Before she could pull away, he caught her hands.

  “Christine.”

  He brought her against his chest with dizzying speed. She felt his arms close around her, and the tears came again. Hard, choking tears that burned her cheeks, which hurt simply to let flow. His lips lightly touched her ear, murmuring soothing sounds she couldn’t make out, and then the warmth of his body surrounding her was like a sheltering cocoon. She couldn’t stop it—her tears give way fully.

  “I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m not usually like this.”

  “Shh, don’t apologize. Consider my shirt one giant hanky. It’ll be all right. You don’t have to be afraid. It was just a nightmare. It isn’t real. It can’t hurt you, not if you don’t let it.”

  But it could hurt her! If Nick found her...he must never find her, and in that effort it was necessary that no one ever know the truth, that she not let Devon or anyone else get close to her. She struggled for control.

  “I have to get dressed. I have a class.”

  “Damn the class. You’re in no shape to take on teaching preschoolers today.” His voice was gentle, but unmistakably determined. “What’s Fritz’s number? I’ll call him for you, if you like?”

  Devon was right. She was not steady enough to teach today. She mumbled the numbers between hiccups as she tried to compose herself.

  With a soft caress on her back, he released her. “Go lie down, Christine. You look worn out. I’ll make the call.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Get some rest. I’ll take care of Katie. I’ll take care of everything, and when you wake I’ll be here. If you need to talk. If you need anything.”

  As Krystal snuggled back beneath the quilts on her bed, she could hear his voice floating from the kitchen as he spoke to Fritz. She pulled the blankets high beneath her chin, rubbing her cheek against her pillow. Why did knowing that Devon was near make her feel safe? She hardly knew him at all. How could she trust this man, with her life, with Katie?

  As she drifted off to sleep, she sensed a change in her body. She stopped fighting the fatigue in her flesh, and the darkness slipping over her was warm and friendly and right.

  Krystal woke in a room smoldering with midday sunshine and alive with the sound of Katie’s laughter. Several things hit her at once: she had actually stayed abed for half a day while a stranger watched over her daughter; she was more rested than she’d felt in months; and none of this disturbed her.

  Her next thought was to wonder why none of this set off her internal alarms. If any situation should have the bells ringing in full force, it was this one. Trust was a commodity she couldn’t afford, and yet a man she’d known less than two weeks sat a room away and she’d lulled in the first restful slumber she’d known in—forever, it seemed. She looked around, trying to orient herself. It made no sense. But then, those old demons seemed disinclined to visit her when she was with Devon.

  Krystal climbed from her bed and went to the bathroom. The counter was spotless, the broken glass removed, and the towel from the rack was gone. She lifted the lid of the hamper, seeing it there among the others awaiting laundering.

  When had Devon taken the time to clean her bathroom? She remembered her blood staining the tile, the broken glass, the evidence of her trauma. The pristine white smiled up at her now.

  After a quick shower and grooming, she pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and stared around indecisively. She couldn’t very well hide in here the rest of the day, but facing Devon held its own range of unnerving prospects. What would she say to him? Thank you seemed hardly enough or appropriate.

  Taking a deep steadying breath, she turned the knob and stepped out. She found him with Katie, playing in the living room, an open pizza box on the coffee table, cartoons turned low on the TV, and the two of them settled on throw cushions on the floor. They were attempting to build a house of cards.

  Krystal watched for a long time, reluctant to interrupt. Devon was holding a card on the third story of the structure they’d raised, waiting with patient amusement as Katie carefully debated where to add the next wall. The muscles in his arm flexed with the effort of remaining rigidly still, but his face was a pleasant wash of laughter and boyish enjoyment.

  Whatever nervous butterflies had come with her from the bedroom stilled. She smiled at the whimsy of their play, the seriousness within both that belied their silliness.

  “You’d better decide where to put that,” Devon said lightly. “I can’t stay like this forever.”

  Katie nodded, lifting the card up, pausing and then continuing with her task. Her round features tensed into a mask of fierce concentration as she lifted a card and gingerly balanced it in place. They both looked wonderfully excited when it stuck. They sat back, admiring their latest feat, when, for no obvious reason, the delicate castle collapsed in a slow, fluttering wave.

  A chorus of groans and laughs proceeded a rapid fire of who breathed? Quickly, Katie pointed in accusation at Devon, who promptly replied with a heated defense that did him no good.

  Katie pounced on Devon, making him laughingly fall back against the pillows. Krystal couldn’t bite back her laughter any longer. Devon, anxiously fending off her daughter’s assault, was so absurd and endearing. Nick would never have spent the day playing with Katie. He had been no father at all.

  “I have a feeling I woke just in time,” Krystal chuckled, holding back in the doorway as Devon and Katie turned to face her.

  “Don’t you dare laugh! I’m in trouble,” he proclaimed, smiling. “I’ve made Katie play quietly all morning and now she’s like a tiny bomb wanting to explode. If you don’t help, I’m a goner.”

  “Well, after knocking over that magnificent structure, it’s the least you deserve,” she answered with mock-criticism.

  Those dancing green eyes caught her gaze and held it. Her heart somersaulted.

  Sinking onto the floor behind Katie, Krystal brought her squirming daughter back against her chest.

  “I can see that you’ve been a handful today!” Krystal admonished knowingly.

  “I’ve been good. Ask Devon,” Katie protested spiritedly.

  Krystal arched a brow. “Yes, I can see how good you two have been.” Krystal scanned her no longer tidy living room.

  “We were just about to clean this up when you came in,” Devon informed her sheepishly, running a hand through his tousled blond waves.

  �
��I see that,” she said cheerfully, trying not to notice how attractive he looked with his hair mussed and those eyes twinkling.

  “You feeling better, Mommy?” Katie asked, turning her large dark eyes upon Krystal.

  “Fit as a fiddle!” Krystal looked up and smiled. “Thanks to Devon.”

  “Can I take Devon outside to see my tree swing? Devon said we couldn’t while you were sleeping ‘cause we’d ‘sturb you with our noise!”

  “Maybe some other time, sweetheart. We’ve taken up too much of Devon’s time as it is.” She could hardly meet his gaze when she tipped her face towards him. “Thank you for what you did this morning. I’m sorry I slept for so long. I’m sure you had more important things to be doing today.”

  “Nothing that couldn’t keep. You saved me from a terrible case of writer’s block. I’ve been staring at a blank screen for so long, that if I had to face it one more day, I think I would have chucked my laptop out the window altogether.”

  Krystal sensed caution in him. His nonchalant air, she was sure, had to do with his determination to strike a normal key between them.

  Of course, he hadn’t wanted to spend the day playing nursemaid to her and entertaining Katie, but he was too nice to let her feel badly about the imposition. It wouldn’t be hard to care deeply about this man, not hard at all.

  “I thought the cure for writer’s block was writing.”

  Devon grinned. “That’s generally the rule. But it depends on the cause for the block.”

  If he thought she’d bite on that one, he was wrong. It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it, that told Krystal she was the cause of his inability to focus on his writing.

  “Devon, can I ask Mommy now? Can I?” Katie’s excited voice cut across Krystal’s thoughts.

  “Ask me what?” Krystal queried suspiciously.

  He gave Katie a look of mock warning, which Katie only smiled into brightly, and then, his face softening, he laughed. “I need to teach you about timing, kiddo.”

  Krystal looked between them. “What’s going on here that I know nothing about?”

  “We cancelled all your lessons for today,” Katie piped up before Devon could shush her.

  “You did, did you?” Krystal did her best to sound indignant, but there was something in the conspiratorial way Devon and Katie exchanged glances that made a smile twitch at her lips instead.

  “Devon asked me what you like to do for fun. I told him sailing so we called the man with the boats. Can we, Mommy? Can we?”

  “You need to let me do my own asking, Katie,” Devon said, giving Katie a sly wink. “And I told you we would only go if your mother thought she felt up to it, and if she didn’t, that was that.”

  Katie crossed her arms stubbornly. “Wanna go, mommy. I want to! Can we?”

  Sailing? Alone with Devon and Katie. Oh, sweetheart, what have you gotten your mommy into? “Devon, that’s very nice of you, but I don’t want to intrude more on your day.”

  Those beguiling eyes stopped her protests. “You would really be doing me a favor, Christine. I don’t know anyone except you and Katie in Coos Bay. My writing is all clogged up. I thought if I could get out and have a frivolous day away from it, I might get a better start on it tomorrow.”

  “See, Mommy, we’d be doing something nice for Devon! You said we should do nice things for people!”

  Krystal gave her daughter a stare. “Are you sure this was Devon’s idea and not yours?”

  Katie tried to look innocent. Krystal rolled her eyes. There was no reason to debate this further, and it was really rather harmless to spend time with Devon if Katie was along with them.

  “Should I pack a lunch so we can eat on the water?”

  Devon’s smile was boyishly self-pleased. “Just get what you need. Katie and I have already taken care of everything?”

  Her eyebrows inched upward in suspicion. “You have?”

  Devon gestured toward Krystal’s own picnic basket, already packed and waiting by the door next to Katie’s sweatshirt and backpack.

  “You were very sure I’d agree,” she accused, hoping her voice didn’t betray too much.

  “Not sure, but hopeful,” Devon countered roguishly.

  Krystal’s mood lost a little of its brightness. “What I told you about not wanting a relationship is still true today, Devon. Just so you know where I’m coming from.”

  His expression was non-threatening. “I know that, Krystal. I’m not the type of man you have to club over the head repeatedly. You may be unattached, but you’re still emotionally involved with the man you left before Coos Bay. But there’s no harm in two people who enjoy each other’s company being friends, is there? Public opinion aside, a man and woman can have a relationship that isn’t based on sex.”

  His gemmed gaze turned her insides to melting waxwork. Devon was wrong in his insights, but to correct that wouldn’t do her any good. It was safer if he thought a lingering attachment to another man was the reason she didn’t want to explore this building attraction between them.

  Grateful, she said, “I just wanted to make sure we were clear on this.”

  His smile was enigmatic. “More clear than you realize. You can trust me to keep my distance, in the way that you want me to, Christine.”

  She looked at him again. He was so kind and understanding. It was herself she didn’t trust. Not one darn bit. That was a worry she had never expected.

  The afternoon passed in a pleasant blur of sunshine, water and Krystal Stafford. True to his word, physically he respected the line she had drawn between them, but his mind wasn’t always obedient to his will.

  She’d found a comfortable spot on the small, rented sailboat and throughout the day she never moved. There were times it felt as though she were studying him. He knew at times he exposed his fascination with her.

  He settled a mystery of his own while they sailed: the key to his absorption with her. It was not because he could read her; it was because he could not. She only showed what she wanted to show and never all of herself.

  There was so much passion and inner strength, and yet such vulnerability carried in the crystal of her eyes at all times. Even today, while she had laughed and chatted gaily as if they were old friends, her manner remained breezy and cautious at once. A keener sense told him it had more to do with the woman she was, rather than the circumstances she lived in. There was a paradox behind her iridescent, blue eyes.

  Since his inner reporter refused to plunge into the interview too aggressively, he’d tried to shut off his professional thought processes. However, his mind had other inclinations, just as his male anatomy refused to be dormant.

  It had been a hot day, and they’d all worn their suits beneath their clothes. By afternoon, he was bare-chested and Katie had stripped down to her bathing suit, but Krystal Stafford never removed her shirt. Her shorts were immodestly cut, high on the tops of her beautiful thighs, but she wore a long-sleeved, crew-necked cotton t-shirt and never took it off.

  It was clear that she’d been uncomfortable in the late afternoon sun. He could see the straps of her bikini top tied beneath her pony tail. It was obvious she had a body no woman would be ashamed to show. But she’d visibly tensed and forced a smile when he’d made an offhand comment that she might be more comfortable without her t-shirt.

  The look in her eyes that had flashed for the briefest of moments, before she’d smiled and said she was fine, made a sharp imprint in his brain. Something about the meager exchange refused not to bother him.

  As he carried a sleeping Katie in his arms into Krystal’s house, she surprised him by asking, “You’re very good with kids, you know. You handle Katie like an old pro. Do you have a sweet little wife somewhere and an SUV full of kids that you haven’t told me about?”

  So she had been studying him. Devon threw back his blond head and laughed. “You do know how to ask the questions, don’t you? No wife, Christine. No kids. Only three married brothers and a SUV full of nieces.”

&
nbsp; She crinkled her noise, “I’m sorry that I pried. I was just wondering.”

  His thumb brushed her lip before it fell away. “You can ask me anything, Christine. It doesn’t feel like prying. Is there anything else you want to know?”

  She shook her head, smiling, and saw him to the door.

  When Devon entered his upstairs bedroom, his cell phone was ringing. He flipped it open and said, “This is Devon.”

  A heavy sigh. Then, “Oh, at last. I’ve been trying to reach you since two. Phil has been calling you all morning. He wants to know when you’re getting back to LA.”

  Devon grimaced. He’d forgotten his cell this morning, he was one week late back to LA, and it was clear since Phil had been calling that his editor’s tolerance with the unexplained disappearance was starting wane.

  Sinking down into his chair and flipping on his laptop, calmly he said, “I’ve been with my interviewee. What’s up, Rosa?”

  “The Governor’s people want to push up your scheduled interview to tomorrow. Scheduling conflicts. Phil wants you on a plane first thing in the morning.”

  Devon was already typing. “Impossible. Tell Phil to send Derek Roy. I’m going to be here at least another month.”

  He sat back in his chair. He was listening to dead air on the phone then a steady streams of ho-ho’s.

  “Don’t tell me you just said what I think you said. I had a damn hard time getting your column into print yesterday. Phil held the presses two hours for you Saturday night. Do you have any idea what that cost? I do. I heard about it for two hours! Now you want to tell him you are going to be tied up with this interview you won’t disclose to anyone for another month—and on top of it, you are blowing off the Governor in an election year!”

  Devon starting typing again. “Patch me through to Phil. I’ll tell him myself.”

  “No! He’s gone home for the day, and a good thing for you he has. I like you, Devon. I’d miss you if you were no longer employed here. He’s getting heat from the publisher about you going AWOL with an open expense account and refusing to disclose!”