On A Night Like This (The Callaways) (7 page)

He was going to retreat, but he was too late.

She jumped to her feet.

"Who's there?" she demanded, grabbing the nearest thing for a weapon, which happened to be a pillow from the wicker chair.

"What are you going to do with that?" he drawled. "Tickle me to death?" He moved into the light.

"Aiden?" she asked sharply. "What are you doing out here?"

"I saw someone in the yard. Thought I'd check it out."

As he said the words, he realized how familiar they sounded. He'd shared more than a few late night conversations in this garden with Sara. They'd both been night owls for different reasons. Sara had usually stressed herself out with worry over school or grades or her father. And he'd usually been coming back from some party and not ready to call it a night.

"Couldn't you sleep?" he asked.

Sara lowered the pillow and sat back down. "The house is stuffy. I needed some fresh air."

"You should have gone to a hotel." He took the chair across from her.

"I didn't want to leave the house empty."

"Then you should have armed yourself with more than a pillow if you were going to stand watch."

"Funny. You can go now, Aiden."

"I could," he agreed, but he made no move to leave. He was too restless to sleep and pacing around his small room seemed far less interesting than talking to Sara. "Did you talk to your dad again?"

"I called the hospital before I went to bed, but he was sleeping. I guess that's good—if anything about this can be called good. The house is a disaster."

"I'm sure your father has insurance. If you need a construction bid, you should talk to my Uncle Kevin. He's a contractor. He won't take advantage of you, and I'm sure he can give you a good price."

"I will. Thanks."

Silence fell between them. He wasn't in a hurry to fill it. It had been ten years since he'd seen Sara, and he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty he'd always known was there. As a teenager, she'd hid her body in big clothes and worn her hair in a tight ponytail, not a bit of make-up on her face. She'd been awkward and clumsy, and he'd enjoyed teasing her just to see the light come on in her eyes and the red blush of embarrassment flood across her cheeks.

He'd always known that there was a spark inside of her. He'd seen glimpses of it on a few occasions, but while he'd been intrigued by the idea of bringing her out of her shell, some self-protective instinct had usually kicked in, reminding him that Sara wasn't a girl to play around with. She was his sister's friend, the girl next door, and her parents were friends with his parents. There was no way he could get involved with her. He didn't do serious, and Sara was as serious as they came.

But as much as he'd tried to look at her as an honorary big brother, he'd never really seen her like a sister, or even like a friend. She was more like a challenge, a girl he knew he wouldn't be able to impress with his usual lines. And one night, he'd let things go a little too far.

"You're staring at me, Aiden," she said tersely.

Her face was stiff, her body tense, her obvious dislike of him palpable, which for some reason made him want to linger. He had enough people who hated his guts these days; he didn't really need any more. But this was Sara, and he'd wondered many times over the years if they'd ever meet again. He hadn't expected her to still be so pissed off at him. Obviously she hadn't forgotten their last encounter.

"You've grown up," he said after a moment. "I like the long hair." He liked a lot of other things, too, like the way her breasts moved against her t-shirt, and the way her eyes sparkled. Was she pissed off or turned on? He decided not to ask. Instead, he said, "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" she said quickly.

"What's happening in your life?"

"Why do you care?"

"We used to be friends."

"Were we?" she asked. "I thought I was just the irritating friend of your sister."

"That, too," he conceded. "But we had some good times."

"And some bad," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

He knew exactly what she was referring to. "That was a long time ago."

"Tonight, it doesn't seem that long."

"You still blame me for sending you home after the concert, don't you?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Is that how you remember it? You sent me home after a concert? There was a lot more to that night than that."

"We had fun. And we ended things before they got complicated. That's what I remember."

Her look of amazement deepened. "Seriously?"

He knew he shouldn't ask, but he couldn't stop himself. "How do you remember it?"

She hesitated. "It doesn't matter."

"Apparently, it does."

Anger flickered in her eyes. "You humiliated me, Aiden."

"No," he said quickly. "I protected you. I stopped you from making a bad decision, one you would have regretted."

"I didn't need your protection."

"Yes, you did. You were innocent and naïve. And you'd been drinking. You should be grateful I called a halt."

"And should I be grateful that you told everyone I wanted to have sex with you, but you said no – you, the guy who would sleep with anyone? How do you think that played out for me?"

He tipped his head, acknowledging her point. He'd forgotten the rumors. "That wasn't me. Jim saw us together. He's the one who told people."

"You didn't try to stop him."

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"Well, I did."

He gazed at her for a long moment, wanting her to look at him, but she was picking a piece of imaginary lint off her sweater. "I'm sorry, Sara. Sorry that I let it go as far as it did. I shouldn't have kissed you in the first place. You were three years younger than me, and you were my sister's friend. I get that you were embarrassed, but things would have been a lot worse if we'd kept on going. I did the right thing." He was truly surprised she didn't see it that way now. "There have been a lot of moments in my life where I did the wrong thing, but not that night, not with you. That's the one time I got it right."

"Oh, just shut up," she said. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"I hate to think that you've been pissed off at me for the last decade."

"Don't flatter yourself. I haven't thought about you at all." She cleared her throat and shot him a pointed look. "I'm not carrying some torch for you, if that's what you think. That flame died a long time ago. There have been lots of other men in my life."

"I'm sure. We've both grown up, changed."

She gave him a doubtful look. "I'm not sure you've changed. So far today I've seen one man punch you in the face and watched your brother and father come close to doing the same. Care to explain what's going on with you?"

"No. Let's talk about you instead. What brought you back home after all these years?"

"I told you—my father's sixty-fifth birthday. I bought him that bottle of wine," she said, pointing to the unopened bottle on the table. "It cost over four hundred dollars."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a present. Are you rich now?"

She uttered a short, little laugh. "Hardly. But I wanted to do something special, something to show my dad that our relationship has value, that it's worth saving. My grandmother died a few years ago and it's just my dad and me now. We need to find a way to connect."

"That's a lot of expectations to put on a bottle of wine."

"Too many," she admitted. "I thought at the very least it would open up some communication. When I gave it to him, my dad said it was
nice
, and set it on the table without even looking at the label. Then he told me I shouldn't have come home without being invited."

Aiden shook his head in disgust. He'd never liked Stephen Davidson. The man was as cold as the inside of a freezer. "Your father was always an ass."

"But he's my father. I have to try to love him."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't understand, Aiden. Your family is different from mine. There is an endless amount of unconditional love."

"I wouldn't say it's unconditional," he replied, thinking about the anger in both Burke and his father's eyes when they'd confronted him about Kyle.

"You're wrong. They will love you no matter what you do," she said with conviction. "Trust me, I spent years watching your family, and wishing I could have even a tenth of that Callaway love."

"You were close to your mom," he pointed out.

"Yes, but there was always a line," she said. "My mom could never go against my dad, not even in the smallest matter. Her allegiance was always to him. It was strange the hold he had over her. I guess it was love, but it didn't always look like it. Not that I know what love looks like," she said with a sigh. "I keep trying to find a way to prove myself to my father, but it doesn't seem to matter what I do. I went to his alma mater and graduated with honors. I passed the bar, and I'm on track to be partner at one of the biggest law firms in New York. But I can't get my father to look at me with anything but annoyance and resignation."

"Did you do all that for him?" he challenged.

She frowned. "No, of course not. That came out wrong."

He didn't think it had come out wrong at all. "Do you like being an attorney, Sara?"

"Of course I do. Well, most of the time."

"What kind of law do you do?"

"Corporate."

"Sounds …" He couldn't quite find the right word. "Intelligent."

She smiled and for a moment she was the girl he remembered, the girl whose smile had always made him want to impress her. "Nice try," she said. "I know it sounds dull. Look, I don't want you to think that I'm just stupidly and blindly following in my father's footsteps. I made my career choices based on a lot of reasons."

"Hey, I'm not one to judge someone else's choices. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters."

She stared at him. "Are you happy, Aiden?"

"I've been happier," he admitted.

"Emma told me you're a smokejumper now. Fighting a fire isn't daring enough? You have to jump out of a plane first?"

He grinned. "It is an adrenaline rush like no other."

"You and your family…" She shook her head in bewilderment. "I never understood the Callaway attraction to danger."

"And I never understood the Davidson desire to live in the shadows and always play it safe."

"I didn't always play it safe," she reminded him.

And just like that they were back to that night.

She cleared her throat. "Anyway…"

"Anyway," he echoed. "What's the last daring thing you did, Sara?"

"I have no idea," she said finally. "I've been working sixty hour weeks the last five years."

"It doesn't sound like you've had much time for fun."

"I squeeze it in here and there," she said.

"We could have a little fun tonight," he suggested.

A light flashed in her eyes.

"That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I'm talking about the wine. We should open it."

"I couldn't possibly do that," she said, but there was a thoughtful expression in her eyes.

"Oh, I think you could. In fact, I suspect you've already considered it. Otherwise, that bottle wouldn't be out here."

Her gaze met his. "My father was so mean to me at the hospital, Aiden. When I came home and saw the bottle sitting on the hall table where he'd so easily put it aside, I had a moment of weakness. But I'm over it."

"Why was he in the basement anyway?"

"I have no idea. He said he had to get something."

"Must have been something important."

"I can't imagine what. I don't remember there being much in the basement besides gardening tools. I would think all the important papers would be in his study." She paused. "I'm very grateful that you came in when you did. I couldn't lift my dad, and the fire was moving so fast."

"Grateful enough to share that bottle of wine with me?"

"Why are you so determined to see me open it?"

"Maybe because I think you need to make a statement. Maybe because I'm thirsty. Maybe because I've had a lousy day, and you have, too."

Her gaze softened. She was yearning to be defiant, to break the rules, and in that moment she reminded him of the very innocent and daring-to-be-reckless girl who he'd let get way too close to him. There was no danger of that now. She hated him. And that was probably for the best.

"It's my father's present," she said.

"One he didn't seem to appreciate," he reminded her.

"The glasses are covered with ash and smoke," she said half-heartedly.

"So we'll share the bottle." He grabbed it along with the wine opener. "Shall I do the honors?"

"You're a very bad influence, Aiden."

"Agreed."

"Fine, but I hope you don't regret this."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would I? It's your bottle of wine."

"Yes, but the last time we drank together—it didn't end well."

Chapter Six

The wine tasted amazing, and she felt warm all over, although the heat might have had more to do with Aiden than with the wine. Sara took another sip, not wanting to acknowledge that she still felt anything for the man with whom she'd shared the most embarrassing moment of her life. But it was still easy to see why her teenage self had fallen for him.

Aiden was a beautifully-made man, rugged, strong, masculine, with blue eyes that commanded attention and a sexy smile that made her tingle every time he turned it in her direction.

Damn! She felt suddenly seventeen again. It wasn't like she hadn't been around attractive men, but lawyers in expensive suits were a completely different breed than the rough and tough men who ran into fire. Maybe that's why she'd had trouble falling for anyone else. No one ever seemed to measure up to Aiden.

Not that he was perfect. Aiden was way too cocky, far too reckless and played fast and loose with the rules. In fact, he was pretty much her exact opposite.

She blew out a breath, feeling a little too warm, and handed Aiden the bottle of wine. Alcohol and Aiden had never been a good combination. Not that she'd ever go down that road again. She'd learned her lesson.