Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1) (7 page)

Doc stepped out of the room and wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders, glaring at Max. “Letʼs go, dear. Iʼll walk you out.”

“I donʼt get it, Doc. Why would Jack leave like that?”

He shook his head. “Donʼt try to figure him out, Sara, heʼs a complicated man. Heʼs always been.”

“But―”

“Go home, dear. Donʼt think about him anymore. For your own good,” he said firmly as he walked her out the door.

Sara got into her car and started the engine robotically, a million confused thoughts raging in her head. It didnʼt make sense. Sheʼd seen Jack the day before, and heʼd expressed no intention of leaving. Why had he bolted like that?

The drive home felt like an eternity, and she sighed with relief when she pulled up her driveway. Sheʼd felt so anxious the whole time she drove on the narrow country road, almost as if she expected Jack to appear magically in front of her car as he had two nights before. Only two nights, she mused in disbelief. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Sara got out of her car and walked to the mailbox. Among the usual dozens of ads and coupons, there was an official-looking envelope, and she turned it around to check the return address. It was from the community college where she worked, she noticed with a frown. How strange. Sheʼd been teaching there for the last four years, and theyʼd never sent her a letter before. Ripping the envelope open as she went up the porch steps, she quickly scanned its contents. A curse slipped out of her mouth.
Could things go any worse today?

“You lied to me.”

Sara let out a terrified scream at the deep voice that had spoken from behind her. The keys and the mail she was holding fell to the ground, but she barely noticed. Knowing exactly whose voice that was, she turned around immediately, a hand flattened on her wild-pounding heart.

“Jack,” she whispered with a smile, unable to believe her eyes. She
had
to be dreaming. He couldnʼt possibly be there… Could he?

Sara slowly bent down to pick up her keys, her gaze never leaving him. He was even taller and more impressive than she remembered. And, if possible, even more handsome, despite the grim expression on his face.

Her smile died under his glacial stare. Rage was flashing in his eyes, making them glitter in the moonlight, and—
oh boy!
—he looked furious! Unable to hold his hostile gaze any longer, she focused her attention on the clothes he was wearing in place of the hospital gown—a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt that clung to his broad chest. A small white patch had replaced the bandage on his forehead. A black bag was slung over his right shoulder, and he held the strap with his thumb, using the other hand to lean against the rail as he slowly went up the steps. His lean, muscular body, along with the fury blazing in his green eyes, reminded her of a panther poised to leap on its prey.

Sara swallowed hard at the realization that she was obviously the target of his anger.

“You lied to me,” Jack repeated once he stood in front of her.

“W-what?”

“Donʼt play dumb with me, Sara. I know everything. I know what happened ten years ago, and I know you lied to me.”

The sharp tone of his words made her take an instinctive step back. For the first time since sheʼd met him, she almost feared him. “Did you…get your memory back?”

Jack shook his head with a sarcastic grin. “I didnʼt need to. Your nice, considerate
sheriff took care of informing me about everything. Such a kind person he is, and—
oh!
—so concerned with protecting his precious little town from this brutal killer here.”

Lacrod! I should have known.
“Look, I know youʼre upset, and you have every right to be. But, please, try to put yourself in my shoes. What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me the truth,” he replied laconically.

“Sure!” She raised her arms in exasperation. “A few hours from your terrible accident and after the serious head trauma you sustained, I was supposed to tell you that youʼd been accused of murdering your own adoptive father and that you spent nearly three years in jail because of it!”

A muscle pulsed in Jackʼs tightened jaw. “It would have been better than hearing it from Lacrod.”

Ouch
. Sara sighed. “Iʼm sorry, Jack. Really. I didnʼt know he would spit his venom at you so soon,” she apologized contritely. But, man, the way he kept staring at her in silence was making her extremely uncomfortable. What had happened to the confused, shy, sweet man sheʼd met at the hospital?

“Look, I really didnʼt know anything about your story until two days ago,” she felt the need to specify. “Doc told me about it at the hospital, so I didnʼt know―”

“ʼCourse you didnʼt. Otherwise, why would you have helped a worthless ex-con like me, huh?”

Sara saw red. “Donʼt be ridiculous! Your past wouldnʼt have made any difference, and you know it!”

Jack inhaled a sharp breath but didnʼt reply and kept silent for what seemed like an eternity to her. “It doesnʼt matter,” he finally muttered, his voice so low that she wasnʼt sure heʼd actually said anything. “Not anymore. Thanks again for all of your help, Sara. I owe you.”

In a daze, Sara watched him turn around and slowly climb down the porch steps.

“Jack, wait!” she heard herself shout before she could put her thoughts together. She just couldnʼt let him go, not like this. She would never forgive herself.

He stopped, but when he turned around, his beautiful eyes were so blank that she felt her heart ache. “You canʼt leave with your leg like that,” she said tentatively. “You donʼt even have a place to stay. Maybe…you could stay here tonight.”

Jack frowned and stared at her as though sheʼd lost her mind. “Why, Sara? Why do you want to help me?”

“I donʼt know,” she admitted with a ragged breath. It was true. She didnʼt have the slightest idea why the thought of letting him go seemed so unacceptable to her. All she knew was that she was exhausted, and that, at least for tonight, she needed to know that he was safe. “Just stay. Please.”

Jack remained on the step. He pushed a hand through his hair, cursing as his fingers met the wound. “You sure?”

Sara nodded. “We both need to rest tonight. Tomorrow weʼll worry about everything else.”

He looked at her, then her house, then her again, as if pondering her suggestion. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Okay. Iʼll stay tonight…unless thereʼs a Mr. Milano who might object.”

She felt a gigantic weight being lifted from her shoulders but tried to hide it behind a smile. “That would be my dad. And considering I havenʼt heard from him since I was five, I guess the answer is no.”

Jack gave her another penetrating look but didnʼt comment. Afraid heʼd change his mind, Sara went down the porch steps and slid an arm around his waist to help him climb back up. And, boy, he felt good. His body was so warm and solid against hers that, once again, she couldnʼt help wondering what the heck she was getting herself into.

“Here we are,” she said uncomfortably as they made it up the steps.

“Wow. This is cool.”

She smiled as he looked around the screened-in porch. “Thanks. It was more of a necessity if I wanted to use this porch. I hate bugs,” she admitted, pulling away.

“What kind of bugs?”

“Uh… All of them?”

He grinned as she started to turn the key in the lock―but she felt so antsy she almost screamed again when Jack abruptly moved in front of her.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, pushing her behind him.

“What?”

“Shhh. That scratching sound…
That!
” He pointed at the closed front door, all his defenses up.

“Jack, wait!” Sara grabbed his arm and stopped him right before he turned the knob. He gave her a puzzled look. Biting her lip, she opened the door―and thatʼs when Jack came face to face with what had to be the ugliest creatures heʼd ever seen in his life.

He took an instinctive step back, gaping at the tiny white mutt yapping at him and the two cats winding in and around his ankles. One of them had a squinty eye and no tail; the other was clearly limping and missing some fur. “Holy
―
”

Saraʼs smile became uncertain. “I hope they wonʼt be a problem.”

“No…of course not.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Damn, but theyʼre awful!”

She almost blew out a sigh of relief. “Theyʼre all rescues. The cats are actually my friend Angieʼs; Iʼm just taking care of them while sheʼs living abroad. They already looked like this when she found them, so we donʼt know their story. The yapperʼs my baby, though,” she added fondly.

Jack shifted his gaze from the cats to the tail-wagging dog. It looked so funny with those long ears sticking up. Kind of like a tiny, goofy coyote. “Whatʼs its name?”

“Lance. Well, Sir Lancelot―but I just call him Lance.”

Sara saw his brows knit, but at least he had the good grace not to comment. “Angie and I found him on the highway a couple of years ago. Heʼd been hit by a car, but nobody even bothered to stop and make sure he was all right. Thank God we drove by that day, or thereʼs no telling what would have happened to him.” She shuddered at the intolerable thought. “Heʼs fine now, though he still freaks out a little around cars.”

Jack looked at Lance again as the dog perched his front paws on his good knee. “I guess the two of us have something in common then. Huh, buddy?” he said to him, stretching out a cautious hand to let him sniff it.

Saraʼs heart swelled so much at the sight that she had to clear her throat before she could speak. “You can pet him if you want to. Or not,” she added, when Jack shot her an
are-you-kidding-me
kind of look. Okay. Maybe he didnʼt like pets after all?

“Any other guests in the house?”

“Only four gold fish: Tristan, Isolde, Abelard, and Eloise.”

Suddenly Jackʼs laughter resounded in the room. A rich, deep sound that warmed her chest and made her feel all funny inside. Taken aback, Sara could do nothing but stare at him quietly.
Oh my.
While Jack always looked impossibly handsome, he was drop-dead gorgeous when he laughed.

“Iʼm sorry,” he said in between chuckles, “but thatʼs just too much. Sir Lancelot was okay, but…Tristan and Isolde? Abelard and Eloise?”

His amused voice jolted her back to reality, and Sara crushed her thoughts and raised her chin indignantly. “Theyʼre perfectly good names.”

“Iʼm sorry,” Jack apologized again. Too bad his back still vibrated with laughter, ruining his efforts. “Please, just tell me the catsʼ names are not Romeo and Juliet.”

She tried to look outraged despite the treacherous smile already twitching her lips. “For your information, theyʼre Thelma and Louise. And, as I said, theyʼre Angieʼs cats, not mine.”

“I take it your friend doesnʼt share your romantic view of the world?”

Her smile faded at his mocking tone. “As a matter of fact, no, she doesnʼt,” she bristled, a little stung. “Why, yes, Iʼm a romantic. So what?”

Jack shrugged. “So nothing. Good for you.”

Then why do I have a feeling youʼre making fun of me?
She took a deep breath. “Anyhow, donʼt worry about the pets. Iʼll keep them in my room tonight, so they wonʼt bother you.”

Sara never knew whether Jack heard her or not, because he didnʼt comment and stepped over the threshold past her, letting his bag slide off his shoulder at the entrance. It fell onto the ground with a low, muffled thump, yet her nerves were so on edge that she nearly jumped at the light sound.

“The, uh, kitchen is straight ahead. Feel free to help yourself if you need anything. The bathroom is right up the hallway, and the door to its left is my den,” she continued in one breath, feeling more and more embarrassed as Jack looked around the living room. She didnʼt know how to gauge the blank expression on his face as he studied her house, so she glanced around the room, too, trying to see it through his eyes. Had the couch and armchair always looked so lame? And so bulky? They seemed to take up the whole space… Or was it just because the living room looked smaller with Jackʼs massive body moving around it?

Sara cleared her throat, unable to take his quiet scrutiny any longer. “You can sleep on the couch, if you want, so you donʼt have to go up the stairs to reach the guestroom. It might be a little small, though—” She stopped with a squeal of surprise when Jack turned around so abruptly he almost bumped into her.

“Itʼs perfect.”

A rush of hot color flooded her face as she tilted her head up and met his gaze. His eyes were so intense now they looked like emeralds. She swallowed hard, but her breath caught in her throat as Jack slipped a hand up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. So much heat radiated off his body as he leaned slightly into her that her head started spinning, and,
God
, he smelled so good! Sara opened her mouth, trying desperately to say something—anything!—yet found herself unable to utter a sound. Which wasnʼt at all surprising, considering she couldnʼt even think with Jack touching her and looking at her like this…as if he were about to devour her in one swallow.

“Thank you, sweetheart. For everything.”

She barely heard his words over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears, but her eyes automatically fluttered close as he leaned closer and lowered his head….

What on earth are you doing? Heʼs a stranger! He could be a murderer!

A wave of cold reality crashed down on her with a tsunami force. In a fraction of a second, panic seized her, and she fought to regain control. Her eyes snapped back open. Planting her hands on Jackʼs forearms, she pushed him back…apparently more vehemently than sheʼd intended, because she saw him stagger backward, trying to avoid putting his weight on the injured leg.

He gave her a disoriented stare, his gaze so unfocused and darkened with desire that, for an irrational second or two, Sara wished heʼd just pull her back into his arms.

“I―Iʼll get you some clean sheets,” she stuttered. Then she dashed out of the room, followed by Lance and the cats.

Alone in the living room, Jack took a deep breath.

He had almost kissed Sara.