Silver Sparks Read online

  Her leg stopped its impatient bouncing. For a few seconds everything stopped, as if his fingers on her knee had completed some connection between them. She stared, and he swore he heard an electric buzzing in his ears.

  He drew his hand back. The buzzing faded. A tiny pucker creased her brow.

  Cal struggled to find his train of thought. And his voice. It would be easier if she weren’t watching him so closely. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I understand about regretting your past, Maggie. About living with the results of bad choices you made and can’t take back. I’ve been there.”

  Her soft chuckle was full of disbelief. “You have a promiscuous past to live down? You’d be the first guy I ever heard of with that problem.”

  “There are other bad choices. Worse ones.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Like what?”

  “I walked away from my sisters when they needed me most.” He made himself say the rest; he needed to admit it as much as she needed to hear it. “I wasn’t there for Julie, and she died because of it.”

  Sudden sympathy touched her eyes. But, with the same full-on, honest approach she used in her own life, she didn’t let him gloss over the details. “Why do you think you should have been there? What could you have done?”

  He leaned back. It was easier to talk when he wasn’t so close to her bare legs, thinking about touching more than her knee.

  “I wasn’t there because I don’t get along with my mother.” He blew out a heavy breath, the same exasperation he felt every time he was forced to talk about her. “Sherrie June Drummond. She also has a couple more last names from subsequent marriages. She goes through men faster than I can keep track. Fast enough that I never knew from one day to the next if the guy who’d driven me to Little League the day before would be the same guy eating supper with us that night.

  “When I was eleven she married a guy named John Ellis. By the time I was thirteen, Ellis was gone and Julie had been born. My mother needed to work, but she couldn’t afford a sitter, so she decided I should stay home from school to watch the baby.”

  Maggie blinked. “Every day?”

  “She said keeping her job was more important than me going to school.”

  She shook her head in disgust. “She can’t do that. The school must have told social services.”

  “They didn’t know. She told the school I went to live with my father.”

  Her mouth fell open, but it took several seconds before she found words. “So you took care of your baby sister and missed school for—what? A few months? A year?”

  “Unfortunately for my mother, I wasn’t that complacent about giving up my future. I knew I needed school if I didn’t want to be stuck in her world forever.” He hesitated, braced for criticism. “I called the cops and turned her in.”

  Maggie brightened. “Good for you!”

  He could have kissed her for that. No shock or pity for the boy who’d chosen to tear his family apart. He should have known that fighting spirit would color every aspect of her life.

  “Social services put me in foster care. Julie, too. My mom ended up getting Julie back about nine months later, after she hooked up with some new guy and convinced the county that she could provide a stable home. She never tried to get me back.”

  “You wouldn’t have gone, anyway,” she guessed, staunchly taking his side.

  Cal smiled. “You’re right. And I got lucky—my foster families were pretty nice.”

  “Ahh,” she breathed, realization lighting her face like a sunbeam. His chest tightened in response. He rubbed his breastbone, wondering how her smile could make his muscles spasm. “You were a foster kid,” she said. “That’s why you understood when I said I liked going to The Aerie because no one knew my background, and I fit in.”

  He nodded, surprised that she’d remembered. Maybe because she was interested in him. Or maybe she was just observant.

  “I was better off that way,” he told her, “but you’re right, I didn’t always fit in. That’s part of why I joined the army right out of high school—it gave me a place to belong. Police academy after that. My mother and sisters were in L.A. I tried to reconnect once, but it didn’t work. Visited the girls once more, but never really got to know them. I gave them my phone number.” His smile was bitter. “A lot of good that did when I lived in Oklahoma, right? I didn’t know how to connect with them and it made me feel less guilty.”

  “You have a right to a life of your own, Cal.”

  “That’s what I told myself, right up until Julie disappeared. But I had an obligation to look out for my sisters when I knew no one else was doing it. When my mother finally figured out Julie was in over her head and took a moment from her life to be concerned, she didn’t know how to contact me.”

  “Didn’t your other sister know?”

  “That would be Amber Howard. She believed Julie when she told her everything was fine. She’s not quite seventeen, for Christ’s sake. She thinks she can handle anything, so naturally she thought her twenty-year-old sister could, too.”

  He must have looked as disgusted with himself as he felt. A weary smile tugged at Maggie’s mouth and she shook her head. “You’re being too hard on yourself. No one blames you for your sister’s death.”

  “They should. I think Amber does.” He’d heard the strain and accusation in her voice when she’d surprised him with a phone call last night, asking where he’d disappeared to after the funeral. “I’m not looking for sympathy, Maggie. I’m saying I made some questionable choices, the same as you. All either of us can do is learn from them and be the best people we can be today.” He winced. “Hell, I sound like a self-help book.”

  She looked more amused than annoyed. “Maybe you should write one.”

  He sat up straighter, energized by her words. “That reminds me, I met someone who might want to do just that, a sort of true-crime exposé on Rafe. I talked with one of the reporters following him around yesterday, Rick Grady. He actually sounds like a respectable journalist. He happened to catch Rafe in an abusive situation last year, and he’s worried Rafe’s the type who will eventually take it further. He’s determined to catch him at it again and stop him, so I told him about Julie.”

  She put her mug down. “What did he say?”

  “Totally believed me. He’s the only person I’ve met who has seen Rafe for what he really is. It looks like I might have an ally in connecting Rafe to those disappearances. We’re going to meet again today.”

  She smiled. “I like it. Let’s turn the tables and put a little pressure on Rafe.”

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have sounded so excited; he already knew Maggie wasn’t big on taking a cautious approach. “Eventually. Right now I don’t want him to get suspicious that anyone is looking into his connections to the missing women.”

  She leaned forward, pressing her point, and he struggled to keep his eyes on hers and not the cleavage he glimpsed beneath her V-neck blouse. “But it would take some of the heat off me if he had something else to worry about.”

  “You can accomplish that yourself,” he reminded her. “Stop antagonizing him.”

  Maggie’s stubborn look came back. Her golden-brown eyes turned stormy and her lips pursed, as if she were contemplating how best to rip his head off. “You mean I should stop fighting back? Is that the strategy you wanted to consult on? I don’t think so.” She stood, snatching the mug off the coffee table. “I’m not going to let Rafe destroy me and my family without lifting a finger in defense. I can’t believe you’d ask me to do that.” She stalked to the kitchen.

  Cal followed on her heels. “I didn’t ask you to not defend yourself—you’re going off half-cocked again.”

  She turned, her eyes cool and dangerous. “Just what did you mean, then?”

  He chose his words carefully to avoid making it sound like he was trying to control her. Even if he was. “We have to make this a team effort. You don’t go planting stories in the tabloids without at least talk
ing to me first. And for God’s sake, learn to be objective.”

  “About what?” she scoffed. “Blaming him? We both know he’s the one who sicced the tabloids on me.”

  “I’m talking about how you react to it. I’d like to smash him in the nose and embarrass him in the press, too, but it won’t help me prove he’s a murderer, and that’s more important. Besides, De Luca’s dangerous. Rick’s experience confirms my suspicions that Rafe is not the kind of man you want to rile up, especially not for something as trivial as your own pride.”

  He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth. She slammed the mug on the counter and whirled to face him, eyes snapping golden darts of fire. “Trivial? My pride is trivial?”

  “Compared to your life.”

  “You think I shouldn’t have enough self-respect to care what lies Rafe spreads about me and my sisters?” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “What would you say if he were attacking Julie’s reputation? How would you like that?”

  He scowled, but she didn’t give him a chance to answer.

  “Not so nice, huh? But I’m supposed to let him trash my reputation and ruin my sister’s life while I stand by quietly, playing the helpless victim? Didn’t you just tell me you should have done more for your sisters? I thought you were on my side!”

  Cal shook his head, annoyed with himself as much as with her. “I am on your side, damn it! I’m trying to keep you from pushing Rafe into a violent reaction when no one’s there to help you.” It was the thing he feared most, but it didn’t seem to faze her.

  “Bullshit. All you care about is your own agenda.” She poked his chest again. “Your quest for revenge.” Another poke. “Your search for evidence that might be compromised by my trivial concerns. But don’t worry, it’s only my personal and financial life he’s trying to ruin. While you—”

  He grabbed her wrist before she could land another sharp stab against his chest. “Cut it out,” he ordered. “You know that’s not true.”

  “Don’t tell me what’s not true!” Instead of calming down, her fury only increased. “You’ve been telling me what’s true and what I should do since the first second I met you. Don’t make Rafe too mad. Don’t get his family upset. Be objective! Like that’s supposed to protect me!”

  “It is, damn it!”

  He still held her wrist. Instead of trying to pull away, she leaned closer as she lectured him, her fingers closed into a fist. He had a strong suspicion that if he let go, her fist would come straight up to meet his nose.

  “Well, maybe I don’t want your protection. Not if it means letting Rafe drag my family’s name through the mud. I told you, I’ve been there before, and I’m not letting anyone do that to me again, and they’re especially not doing it to my sister.”

  Her anger did nothing to lessen the impact of her closeness. Her fresh scent, her soft skin beneath his fingers, the passion in her eyes—even if the passion was telling him to go to hell. “It’s not worth dying for, Maggie.”

  “I’m not going to die. I’m not a naive twenty-year-old girl, Cal. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman.”

  He’d been having a hard time not noticing.

  “I can take care of myself. I appreciate the information on Rafe, but if you’re not going to help me fight him, then stand aside.” With her free hand, she pushed his chest, as if that might move him.

  “Damn it, Maggie . . .”

  “Damn it yourself!” She yelled her frustration. “I don’t even know why you’re pretending to help me when all you want to do is stop me!”

  “I just want you to use some common sense!” He yelled back. “I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen this happen before, Maggie, and it ended badly.”

  She gave him a confused look. “You’ve seen a Hollywood celebrity go after someone in the press?”

  “No. Hell,” he muttered. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but maybe knowing the bare facts would convince her to be more cautious. “A cop I worked with was in a similar situation, except instead of a celebrity, it was a powerful drug dealer.”

  Her mouth pulled with disgust. “That’s hardly the same thing.”

  “You’d be surprised. The big drug dealers engender a lot of loyalty in their communities. It’s mostly based on fear, but it still gives them a lot of power. The cop—her name was Diane—was determined to stop this guy. And she was as fearless and reckless as you.”

  Inches from his chest, Maggie still felt coiled to strike. Her eyes watched his closely. “Was she your partner?”

  “No, she . . .” She’d been so much more. And been just as careless with his heart as she’d been with her life. A hard lesson learned. “We were friends. The point is, she thought so little of the guy, she didn’t believe he could hurt her. She broke with procedure, tried to do things her own way, without backup. He killed her.”

  She gave it a few seconds thought, the muscles of her arm tense beneath his grip. “It’s not the same,” she said, her eyes flashing in warning. “And I’m not Diane.”

  He bit back the string of swear words that hovered on the tip of his tongue. He knew she wasn’t Diane. She didn’t look anything like her, didn’t even remind him of her. Except in this one thing. “You’re just as impulsive as she was. Just as reckless. And damn it, Maggie, you could end up just as dead!”

  “Thanks for your objective assessment.” With a twist, she yanked her arm away. “I can’t run everything by you first, Cal.” The words sounded bitter, final. “Why do you even care what I do?”

  He knew why. The answer ricocheted through his mind, as hot and wild as her temper, but he couldn’t make himself say the words.

  He could only show her. With a sudden jerk, he pulled her against him and crushed his lips to hers. Her body went stiff but he didn’t pause, delving into her heat with a sweep of his tongue.

  He’d acted on impulse, silencing her tirade, but as soon as he felt the softness of her lips against his own, he knew it was what he’d wanted to do all along. His mouth moved on hers, tasting, devouring. Showing her what he felt. After the first startled moment he feared she’d explode in anger, but the fist she’d raised to his chest unclenched and her lips softened, moving with him, accepting. Her rigid body relaxed against him, and her hands crept around his neck, pulling his body against hers.

  It was more than he’d hoped for. He grasped a handful of luxurious hair and took what he wanted.

  He hadn’t expected her to be passive—she wasn’t passive about anything, as far as he could tell. But the silken stroke of her tongue on his nearly sent him over the edge. Heat, flavored with the faint taste of mint from her tea, spun through him, waking an even larger need. Lust flared, a sudden awareness of her breasts pressed against him, her thighs brushing his leg . . .

  He pushed her away, hands on her shoulders, breathing heavily. Wide eyes blinked back at him and she weaved slightly before regaining her balance.

  “That’s why,” he said, his voice harsh, gravel on sandpaper.

  Her tongue made a slow pass over her lips and he had to force himself not to kiss her again. Her silence made him nervous. “Nothing to say?”

  She folded her arms tightly against her body, as if protecting herself.

  Maybe it was better if he left before she decided to kill him. “I’ll see you later.”

  He was almost at the door when she said, “Cal.” He turned.

  “That wasn’t objective.”

  He considered it. “No. Not one bit. And don’t expect it to change.”

  She stared at the door for nearly a full minute after he left. It didn’t help. Her brain still couldn’t reconcile the resentment she knew she should feel toward Cal with the naked desire that his kiss had ignited. Part of her wanted him to stay the hell out of her life. The other part—a much larger part—wanted to take him to bed for a week of exhaustive mutual exploration. And wouldn’t that be a good way to prove that she didn’t hop into bed with every guy she met? />
  Damn it. She didn’t need this sort of distraction.

  She wasn’t going to figure it out now. She had a store to open, and probably a dozen photographers and reporters to deal with. She had to be ready.

  Thirty minutes later she was out the door.

  The day was bright, already unseasonably warm for May, and she paused to admire the view. Across the road, the mountainside fell away sharply toward the nestled shops and houses of Barringer’s Pass. The shallow terraced lots on her road allowed her to look over neighboring rooftops right into the downtown area, and beyond to the rising slope and ski runs of Tappit’s Peak on the other side of the valley. Sunshine bathed the town, improving her spirits. Smiling, she turned away to lock the dead bolt on the front door.

  Something moved in the corner of her vision. Barely more than a shadow. She raised her head, turning toward a soft rustle in the forsythia bush by the steps.

  The world went black.

  Maggie gasped at the feel of cloth over her face. Before she could raise her hands, an arm came around her neck from behind, jerking her head hard against a firm chest and pinning her.

  The keys dropped from her hand, clattering onto the wooden porch.

  Male. Strong. Rough.

  The impressions swirled in a dizzy kaleidoscope as she clawed at the arm pressed against her throat. Hard forearm. Nylon jacket sleeves. Leather gloves over the hand that dug into her shoulder.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but his other hand clamped across it, pulling her even tighter against him. A muffled cry escaped her, the most she could do. It sounded weak and frightened.

  Helplessness infuriated her, and she fought with the only thing left to her—her feet. Kicking backward, she connected with a shin as she thrashed her weight around. He countered immediately, ramming her against the porch rail. She sucked in a sharp breath as her lower abdomen met the wooden rail with bruising strength. He pressed against her to hold her there while spreading his feet enough to keep his legs away from her feeble kicks.