Letters from Peaceful Lane (New Americana 3)

His arm tightened in a protective hug. “You don’t have to go back there,” he said. “We’ll find another way. I told the people at the bank that we need an answer on the loan as soon as possible. If we get the money—”

“I thought about that. The Edgeway Group could still fight us. We might even have to take them to court, which could hold up the renovations on the theater for months. And what if we don’t get the loan?”

“I don’t even want to think about that right now.”

“I’ve got to go back there, Burke. We need a copy of that contract with the forged signature—or some other evidence we can take to the authorities. It’s the only way we’ll beat them.”

Burke took a deep breath. “I told you to get out while you could. It’s still not too late.”

“I know,” Allison said. “But I’m not going anywhere, so deal with it, mister.” She tilted her face upward and gave his cheek a playful kiss.

A small, broken sound rose from his throat. His arms went around her, pulling her to his chest. When his mouth found hers, his kiss was fierce and hungry, devouring her with his need. Her arms went around his neck, fingers raking his hair. Her mouth opened, her tongue meeting his. The contact triggered a spark that became a bonfire of desire.

Where her hip pressed his sweatpants, she could feel the hard bulge of his erection. It could happen now, she thought. Except it wouldn’t because Brianna was still awake and might decide to join them in the den. But it could happen later tonight, if she could find the courage to tiptoe down the stairs and slip into the double bed beside him.

She moved against him. He groaned. His hand found the hem of her shirt and slid up her back to her sports bra, feeling for the clasp that wasn’t there. His fingers fumbled in mounting frustration.

“Damn it, Kate,” he muttered. “Where’s—” He broke off, realizing what he’d just said.

Kate.

Allison went rigid in his arms. Her hands pushed him away. “Not another word,” she said. “I have to go.”

Half tripping over the ottoman, she stumbled blindly out of the room and headed for the stairs.

CHAPTER 13

Allison closed the bedroom door behind her and sank onto the bed. I’m a big girl. I’m not going to cry, she told herself. Burke had made an honest mistake, something that happened from time to time, especially when he was tired or stressed. Maybe this time, it was talking about the boat that had triggered the name.

She couldn’t blame him. After all, how many parents mixed up their children’s names, even though they knew better? Burke’s calling her by his first wife’s name was no more than an innocent slip of the tongue.

But his timing couldn’t have been worse!

She didn’t want to go back and face him, but it was too early to go to bed. Anyway, she was too upset to sleep. Going to the closet, she switched her slippers for her running shoes. After throwing on a warm jacket, she stole downstairs to the back door. She needed to work off a serious case of angst.

She hit the path running—not a good idea in near darkness. Her sneaker caught a broken spot in the asphalt pavement. She twisted her ankle and went down hard.

For a moment she lay still, her breath coming in gasps, the tears springing to her eyes. You’re all right, she told herself. It just hurts, that’s all.

That pretty much summed up her life tonight.

Recovering, she sat up and moved her limbs cautiously. Nothing appeared broken. But her hands were skinned, her knees bruised, and her twisted ankle felt tender when she stood and put weight on it.

Idiot, she chastised herself. Why hadn’t she brought a flashlight, or at least had the sense to slow down? She took a few careful steps. The ankle felt all right, and she didn’t want to go back to the house yet. It wouldn’t hurt to walk a little farther.

She hadn’t told Burke or Brianna where she was going, but they both knew she liked to walk along the lakeshore. They probably wouldn’t even miss her.

She moved along the path, favoring her ankle. A great horned owl, huge in the darkness, swooped low over her head, then glided away, as if the creature had seen her limping, thought she might be prey, then decided she’d be too heavy to carry off. The thought—ludicrous as it was—brought an ironic smile to Allison’s lips.

By now the moon had come up, reflecting like a gold coin in the black water. By its light, she could see the old wooden pier, stretching its length out into the lake. Balancing carefully, she walked out to the end of it and stood there, feeling the night chill on her face, hearing the cry of a loon and watching the ripples spread where a fish jumped.

The time-weathered pier had been here many years. Had Kate walked out here on nights like this, taking a moment to be alone and think? Had she stood in this very spot after her affair had ended, wondering how to tell Burke—or whether to tell him at all? Had she come here to face her cancer diagnosis and to contemplate the end of her life?

Tonight Allison could almost feel Kate’s presence. But she didn’t believe in ghosts—not her mother’s, not Kevin’s, or any of the other people she’d known and lost. Kate was gone, leaving only her husband, her daughter, and those blessed, cursed letters as a challenge to the woman who would take her place.

She shivered under her jacket. It was time to go back. Would Burke be waiting by the back door to scold her for going off and worrying him? But no, tonight he would avoid any confrontation that could arise from his having called her by the wrong name.

She entered by the back door to discover that she’d been right. The den was empty, the TV silent. At the foot of the stairs, she saw that Burke’s door was closed, with no light showing through the crack underneath.