Long Time Coming

P
ressure
gathered in Kurt McCord's chest as he fought for composure. He hated needing
anything, let alone help. "Damn it, Leigh, can't you just give us a
weekend? Marion needs help. I'll hump furniture all day long, fix whatever
needs fixed, but she's a wreck and I don't handle that stuff well."

  "I
leave for Japan at the end of next week." Leigh's sultry voice went soft
as if she saw the futility of resistance. Her last gasp of denial.

  Merciless,
he went in for the kill. "She cried, Leigh. Marion cried. I don't know
about you, but I never saw her cry about anything. It was over some photo
albums and that old movie projector of hers. I haven't seen that thing in
decades. I doubt it'll work anymore." He hadn't been able to do more than
give the old girl an awkward pat on the shoulder.

  Females
in emotional pain made his gut twist. He hated feeling helpless and he never
understood what women in distress really needed. So he fixed things. Hauled
whatever needed hauling, and ate whatever they cooked for him. Marion was a good cook and had loved to feed him and all the other foster kids she'd
mothered. "Leigh, we owe her."

  "Would
next month work?" Her voice, silken and sexy drew tight circles around his
chest. He lost the battle with his breath and let it out. Dragged in another.
He would win this.

  He
would.

  He
couldn't take another month of Marion's tears. Hearing Leigh's voice brought
back a whole lot of other stuff he thought was long over.

  Things
like desire. Need. Want.

  Yes,
he still wanted Leigh Douglas.

  “Next
month's too late. She's got to take the place right away." Retirement
units in this building didn't come up often. "This one's a bottom floor
corner. She can keep her cat and patio furniture."

  "She
can use her grill, too?"

  Memories
of Marion's legendary backyard grilling parties skipped through his mind.
"Yes, she can even grill, too." He had her and they both knew it.

  A
sexy sigh and then, "This thing in Japan is an interview for a promotion.
I can give you three days, no more." Her voice dripped capitulation. “I’ll
be there as soon as I can.”

The
crunch of tires on gravel brought Kurt's head up to listen. He swiped his cuff
across his forehead and leaned his axe against the woodpile at the side of his
house. Splitting logs for firewood was great for stress relief. Leigh's arrival
counted as stress. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair to clear his head
then headed for the  front of the house. He ran a mental checklist as he
walked. Fridge was stocked. Guest room prepared. Wine was chilling. With any
luck, she would agree to eat with him before they headed to Marion's.

  A
dark grey luxury sports car rolled to a stop by the rose bed he'd planted in
the middle of his circular drive.

  Sound
fell away, his breath stalled while he watched one high heeled boot, then
another, descend to the ground. Butter-colored boots. No woman he knew wore
butter-colored boots. Not in this town.

  A
blonde knot of hair appeared as she unfolded from the low slung seat. Leigh had
always been a beauty, but now, she had the profile of an angel.

  He
catalogued every glorious inch of her, from the topknot of blonde waves to the
curve of her breasts to the flat plain of her belly. The car door hid her legs,
but he had them memorized. Long, strong, shaped just right, they rose from
perfect feet to thin ankles and thighs that led–

  "Are
you going to say hello?" she asked, her voice sultry and hot as asphalt in
the sun. "Or will you stand and stare all day?" Her wide open
gut-busting grin hit him in the chest. Then she stepped away from the car and
walked into his arms like a long-lost sister.

  Yeah,
that was it. As if he needed a reminder. She smelled of flowers and windswept
hair and Leigh. Not the little-girl Leigh he remembered, but a woman. Her curvy
body fit against his as she gave him a perfunctory buss on the cheek.

  He
pulled his head back only to see her grin falter from open to hesitant. She was
so damn appealing he could eat her up. "Good to see you, Leigh. I'm glad
you made it. Have you been to Marion's yet?"

  She
nodded, stepped out of his arms and concern flashed across her face. "The
doors were locked and lights all off. Where is she?"

  Surprised,
he said, "She was there this morning. I moved furniture for hours."
Worry dampened his sexual focus. He shook his head because Marion wouldn't have
left the house unless absolutely necessary, not with Leigh on the way.
"She was excited to see you."

  "So
you have no idea where she's gone?"

  "Come
on in," he said as he dug his phone out of his pocket. "I'll call her
cell."

  But
before he could pull her number up, his ring tone played. He checked call
display, ready to hang up on the caller if need be. "It's her."

  Leigh
gave her car door a hip shot to close it, then stepped close enough for his
nose to catch her scent again. He answered, relieved to hear Marion's normal,
rushed voice. He passed Leigh the phone. "She wants to speak with
you."

  Thirty
seconds into the conversation, Leigh's voice warmed with concern. A problem
with Marion’s sister. He straightened when Leigh said goodbye. She handed back
his phone.

  "Marion had to leave for her sister's place. Heart trouble. She won't be here all weekend.
She said we could go over to the house in the morning and she'd call
then." Her lips moved into a classic Leigh pout. He wanted to kiss it
away. "I suspect she'd prefer we deal with a lot of the decisions for her.
This can’t be easy for a woman who’s as vital and active as Marion.”

  "She
was pretty wracked up over that projector and the old film reels. I found the
projector screen, but it's ruined."

  "If
it had been her choice to retire she might handle this better.” She smiled, her
wide blue eyes a symphony of kind memories. "In the meantime, we have an
evening to kill."

  "Stay
here tonight, we can get caught up." And there it was. Stay with me.
Sleep in your big brother's house. Where you'll be safe.

  Her
smile turned sultry. "Let me get my bag.” She turned and gave him a view
of her lush backside. Round, smooth, high and oh-so-inviting, his hands itched.

  Unless
and until, Leigh gave him the go-ahead to touch, he'd keep his hands to
himself, even if it killed him.

W
hile
Leigh settled into the guestroom, Kurt opened a bottle of red wine to let it
breathe. Then he called Marion.

  Her
sister had the constitution of a tank. Heart problems didn't ring true. Maybe
this move into the retirement residence had been harder to accept than he
thought. But Marion had faced too many angry and confused foster kids to be
frightened by downsizing her home. He listened to her soft-voiced explanation
of family duty and hung up, no more convinced than when he’d called.

  Footsteps
made him turn to watch Leigh's expression as she approached through the great
room. What he read in her eyes pleased him. As did his home. He'd worked hard
on the design and it showed.

  Log
walls, gleaming wood floors and high ceilings made for rustic luxury. French
doors flanked the fieldstone fireplace and led to a lakeside deck that appeared
to extend the width of the house.

  "Your
home's lovely, Kurt," she said as she took the wine he offered. She'd let
her hair down into waves that tipped at her clavicle. He wanted to trace those
fine bones out to her smooth shoulders. Trace her skin lightly, lightly,
lightly until she shivered with need.

  "Thanks,"
he said, and pulled back from the errant thought. "I never seem to finish
the place though." He grinned and nodded toward a walk-in pantry. The
scent of fresh cut pine filled the air. Shelves he had yet to install leaned
against the inside wall.

  She
took in the granite counters, the breakfast bar, the view over the lakeside
deck. "I'd love a kitchen like this."

  "Feel
free to cook whatever you'd like. I'll eat your cooking anytime." He’d eat
her anytime.

  "I
may take you up on your offer. I don't cook much. Meals for one don't hold a
lot of appeal."

  "You're
single? Hard to believe." Down, boy.

  "Why?
There’s no evidence of a woman living here. If you're single, why shouldn't I
be?"

  "I've
been busy building a business,” he said, pleased she'd paid attention to his
living arrangement. “Until now relationships have taken a back seat."

  "Now?"

  "Now,
I'm ready to take care of other ambitions." He held the door to the deck
open for her and motioned her outside to take in the view. “Marion’s told me
for years it’s time to settle down, and I’m ready to give her that wish.”

  She
stepped by him to the deck while he leaned in for a whiff of her shampoo.
"When I lived here I never got to the private side of the lake,” she
murmured. “Only the public beaches." Her scent went to his head. Better
than wine. Much better. "This is spectacular." Her eyes showed
delight in his success. “Why have you waited so long to settle down?”

  “My
old man was decent enough, but he could never get himself off the ground. Never
got life right. I swore I’d be different if I had a family. I wanted to be
ready. Prepared.”

  “Not
broke.” A statement, not a question. “I swore I wouldn’t get pregnant at
fourteen.”

  “Which
may have happened, given the way you looked much older.”

  Her
smile went thoughtful. “But I had you running interference.”

  "Whether
you wanted it or not."

  She
slipped her hand to his cheek, her warmth a balm. He tilted into it. “Thank
you, Kurt. You were my champion, my guardian.”

  His
hand burned with the need to touch. To take. So he clasped the deck rail and
pretended to see the lake. He waved at his neighbors, out for their daily
paddle. The red canoe skimmed over the water, graceful and silent.

  "Sunset
is my favorite time of day," she said with a sigh. "I don't see it
often enough. Everything's pretty again." She tapped her temple. "My
mind races through the day." She settled next to him at the rail, her
shoulder grazing his.

  "I
like the long shadows, the deepening quiet as the birds settle and the lake
turns pink and gold."

  "Renewal,
rest and reflection." She turned toward him, her eyes scanning his face,
counting the years since they'd last seen each other. "You've changed
some, but I still see you, Kurt McCord. Like no other man, I see you."

  He
had a sick feeling that maybe she always had. "When we were kids– "

  "I'm
sorry I was such a pest." She laughed. A light tinkling sound he'd looked
for in every other woman he'd known.

  "You
weren't. I was a jerk."

  She
eyed him. "Only sometimes." Her grin set his mind at ease.

  She
still had no idea how sick he'd been. Still was. A brother wanting his sister.
Correction. Foster sister.

  Not
that it made any difference. Marion would be appalled. And Leigh would look at
him like a fly speck.

  Maybe
that would set him free. He'd stop comparing women to Leigh. He could move on
and work on those new ambitions. A wife. Family of his own.

  Just
as soon as he put this Leigh thing aside.

  And
then she looked at him; really looked and he looked back.

  Damn,
she was hot.

  She
nodded at the neighbors as they glided by.  "They're still together? They
were a couple back in high school."

  He
nodded. "Sometimes first loves are the only loves."

  She
took a sip of wine too fast. She coughed and he patted her back.
"Okay?"

  "Fine.
Thanks." After a moment of quiet reflection, she spoke again. She leaned
over the rail to look around the lake. "That time I walked up to your car
and you had some girl with you . . . ." Her voice trailed away into an
unspoken question.

  "Diane
Brown. I remember she was no girl." Older by at least eight years and
already divorced, Diane held his interest for all of three weeks. Long enough
to learn what he'd needed. "What about it?" But he knew what she'd
seen, what he'd done.

  "You
saw me coming for the car, holding my report card."

  He'd
been such a prick. "I'm sorry about that."

  She
hadn't heard him, was trapped in the past. "You grabbed her and kissed her
the way I wanted you to kiss me."

  It
was his turn to choke. If he thought he'd waited on pins and needles for Leigh
to arrive, it was nothing compared to the absolute stillness of his body, his
life, his world as her words sunk in. After a shocked moment he turned his face
toward her.

  "Don't
look so shocked," she said. "I had a huge crush on you." She
blinked and seemed to pull out of wherever her memories had taken her.
"You must have known."

  The
wind had been punched out of him and he dragged in a breath to replace it.
"You were my little brat sister. Not possible." And he was four years
older and had a lifetime worth of experience.

  "You
were never my brother, Kurt. No matter what the foster care system said.
No matter how much Marion wanted us to call her Mom." She
swallowed. Hard. Then slanted him a glance that spoke volumes. "You're not
my brother, Kurt. You never were." She pressed her shoulder against his
and tipped her wineglass toward him.

  "Diane
Brown," was all he could think to say. He'd seen Leigh running toward the
car, eyes wide and happy, face aglow with pride. And he'd seen her falter when
she'd realized he wasn't alone.

  "You
looked me right in the eyes. Then you pulled her into your arms and kissed her
in a way– "

  "In
a way you were too young to see." He'd done it for her own good. He was
older, a full on raging-hormone filled teenager with a car. Many times he could
have picked her up on the walk home from school. He could have taken her
anywhere and she'd have gone with him. The temptation had been powerful, but
he'd been stronger. "It was safer to see you as a younger sister." He
clinked their glasses and took a sip without looking at her.

  "Safer?
For whom?"

  "Me,"
he murmured. "Safer for me. I wanted you, too, but you were a kid, a
child. I felt sickened by my own thoughts."

  "I'm
not a child any longer, Kurt. And I'm here."

  He
looked at the way his wine rippled in his glass, a reaction to his trembling
hand. "Are you sure?"

  "I've
been sure since I was twelve."