Winning His Heart: The Millionaire's Homecoming / The Maverick Millionaire. Melissa McClone

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       CHAPTER SEVEN

      DAVID’S CHOCOLATE HAIR was sleep tousled, and his dark eyes held faint, dazed amusement as he gazed at the two nightie-clad women in front of him.

      Kayla gazed back. He stood there in only a pair of blue-plaid pajama pants that hung dangerously low over the faint jut of his hips.

      He didn’t have on anything else. His body was magnificent. He was deeper and broader than he had been all those years ago when he had been a lifeguard. The boyish sleekness of his muscle had deepened into the powerful build of a man in his prime. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on him.

      In the darkness of the night he looked as if he had been carved from alabaster: beautiful shoulders, carved, smooth chest, washboard abs on his stomach.

      Kayla gulped.

      David came full awake, and the faint amusement was doused in his eyes as he took them both in, lingering on Kayla’s own nightie-clad self a second more than necessary. It occurred to her the nightie, light as it was and perfect for hot summer nights, was just a little sheer for this kind of encounter. Her shoulders felt suddenly too bare, and she could feel cool air on the thighs that had already been way too exposed to him.

      David seemed to draw his eyes away from her reluctantly. Kayla could feel her pulse hammering in the hollow of her throat.

      “Mom,” he said gently, swinging open the screen door, “come in the house.”

      His mother looked at him searchingly and then her expression tightened. “I don’t know who you are,” she snapped, “but don’t think I don’t know my wallet is missing.”

      “We’ll find your wallet.” His voice was measured, and the tone remained gentle. But Kayla saw the enormous pain that darkened his eyes as his mother moved toward him.

      “And the roses need pruning,” Mrs. Blaze snapped at her son.

      He winced, and at that moment, a woman came up behind them, dressed in a white uniform.

      “Mr. Blaze, I’m so sorry. I—”

      He gave her a look that said he didn’t want to hear it, and passed his mother into her care. “It looks like she has some scratches on her arms, if you could tend to those.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      There was something faintly shocking about hearing David—the boy who had romped through the days of summer with her, and played tricks on their teachers, and sat in with her at bonfires licking marshmallow off his fingers—addressed in such a deferential tone of voice.

      The door shut behind his mother and the care aide, and he stepped out onto the porch. His face was composed, but Kayla saw him draw in a deep, steadying breath, and then another.

      It filled his chest and drew her eyes to the masculine perfection of that surface.

      “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Where was she?”

      Her eyes skittered away from his chest, and to his face. The lateness of the hour and the pain in his face made all the hurts between them seem less important somehow. She found that she wanted to reach up and ease the stern, worried lines that had creased around his mouth.

      “In my yard, pruning the roses.” Kayla handed him the pruning shears, and he took them and stared down at them for a moment, then looked out at the garden shed, the door hanging open.

      “I guess that needs to be locked,” he said.

      “I didn’t know,” Kayla said softly. “I haven’t been over yet since I got back. The house and yard looked so beautifully maintained, I just assumed your mom was going as strong as ever.”

      “One of my property managers makes sure the maintenance gets done, and the yard is looked after.” He looked around sadly. “It does look like normal people live here, doesn’t it?”

      “I’m so sorry, David,” she said softly, and then again, “I didn’t know.”

      He smiled a little tightly. “No pity,” he warned her.

      “It wasn’t pity,” she said, a little hotly.

      “What, then?”

      “It was compassion.”

      “Ah.” He didn’t look convinced, or any more willing to accept whatever she was offering no matter what name she put on it. “What are you doing out here, anyway? What time is it?”

      “After three.” No sense confessing all the terrible thoughts that had kept her from sleeping. “I was worried about my dog. I couldn’t sleep. I heard a noise out here and thought it might be Bastigal.”

      “And it was Mom. It’s a mercy that you found her before she wandered off or hurt herself with the pruners.” He shook his head. “She can’t remember what she had for breakfast—”

      Or her own son, Kayla thought sadly.

      “—but she worked her way past two security locks, a dead bolt and a childproof handle on the door.”

      Kayla was afraid to tell him, again, how sorry she was.

      “There’s a live-in aide, but obviously she was distracted by something. I think she sneaks the odd cigarette out here on the deck. Maybe she left the door open behind her.”

      Kayla shivered a little at his tone, very happy she was not in the aide’s shoes.

      “How long has your mom been like that?” Kayla asked softly.

      It looked like a conversation he didn’t want to have, but then he sighed, as if it was a surrender to confide in her.

      “She’s been deteriorating for a couple of years,” he said softly. “It starts so small you can overlook it, or wish it away. I’d notice things when I visited: toothpaste in the refrigerator, mismatching socks, saying the same thing she just said. When I wasn’t here, she’d phone me. She lost the car. Where was Dad? That was when she could still remember my phone number.”

      David stopped abruptly, took a deep breath, as if he was shaking off the need to confide. His voice cooled. “I’ve had СКАЧАТЬ