Wish on the Moon (33 page)

She could see he wasn't just saying the
words, he was sorry. And there was a deeper understanding in his
expression that made her wonder about his background. "Thank you.
The reason I'm telling you this is—before mom died, she took my
hand and she made me promise that I would take care of Paige and if
I ever had children that I would take them to church. She thought
everyone needed to believe in something outside of themselves, just
like she did and just like Paige and I did."

"Do you take Becky to church?"

"I do most weeks. She attends Sunday School
while I go to the service. So what I'm trying to say is that I
believe in something outside of myself." She looked toward the
ocean and waved her hand. "I believe in the power behind this."

Facing him again, she requested, "So tell me
more about Gillian."

"The way I understand it, when she was ten
she was hit by lightning. It was after that the sensations started
to come to her. She's a caring person. She loves her husband and
son, and Nathan's daughters accept her as a second mom."

"And she teamed up with a former cop."

"Jake had heard about her, looked into her
success rate and then recommended her to Nathan. After she found
Nathan's daughters, Jake was a believer."

"Are you sure there's no fee, Linc? I can
make a donation, but I don't know how much."

"They don't charge."

"But you've donated to this foundation," she
guessed.

"I have. I believe in the work they do."

Emma stared at the sun beginning to set, the
sky shot through with pink and orange. She thought about Paige and
the empty car and dark nights when she couldn't sleep wondering
where her sister was, crying because she was afraid Paige had been
hurt, crying because she was afraid she was dead.

"Let's walk back," she said, needing to think
about all of this.

Linc didn't initiate conversation as they
walked, as gulls screeched, as waves pounded the shore. The tide
was coming in, creating puddles in the sand that she was barely
aware of as she sloshed through them. Linc stayed by her side,
walked where she walked, a force to be reckoned with himself.

She would have kept walking, but Linc tapped
her shoulder and pointed to his house across the expanse of loose
sand and grass. When they reached the steps, she wiped the sand
from her feet and slipped them into her shoes. He let her precede
him.

Once they were standing on the deck, she made
a decision. The ocean wasn't as loud up here but it still carried a
resonant voice, a pounding that was a backdrop.

When she turned to face Linc, for a few
moments the sound of the ocean faded away. The brush of the breeze
on her face hardly registered because she got lost in his green
eyes. But then she remembered why she was here, at his house on the
beach.

Her voice was loud and clear above the sound
of the surf. "I'd like to meet Gillian."

Excerpt from FOREVER AFTER:

CHAPTER ONE

The man was shirtless, sweated, and
built.

Darcy Kearn slipped behind the service
counter, thinking if she'd been at the beach, she'd have taken the
time to enjoy the sight. Broad shoulders, lean hips, biceps that
looked as if they'd been honed by physical labor.

But she wasn't at the beach. This was her
automotive shop, and from the looks of her most recent arrival, he
was frustrated...and angry. Impatience radiated from his glistening
half-naked body as he scowled at the two partially dismantled
vehicles in the service bays.

Her head mechanic had already informed her
the man refused to accept the fact they couldn't repair his car
until Monday. It was moments like these she'd rather be working on
an engine than soothing ruffled feathers.

The stranger glanced at the service desk and
stalked toward it like a man on a mission. As he approached, her
gaze homed in on his chest. Black curly hair, damp with
perspiration, formed a T. Tendrils wisped around dark male nipples,
then arrowed in a long thin channel to the waistband of navy
shorts. He was lean enough that the definition of his ribs was
clear. The whorl of hair around his navel tempted her to look
lower. Her stomach fluttered and she yanked her gaze upward.

Her eyes swept over a strong chin to smoky
eyes...and stopped. She'd never seen such intensity in a man's
eyes. That first look into them was a shock--like her first taste
of a hot pepper or her first spring off a high dive. They swept
over her as if trying to learn everything about her in a few
seconds.

Suddenly she wished her overalls were
something more alluring and feminine. Irritated by the thought of
silk or lace in a garage, she spoke crisply. "I'm Darcy Kearn. May
I help you?"

The man mowed his fingers through his thick,
sable hair. "You're the owner?"

At five-foot-three, she was used to
physically looking up to men. But with this man she felt she needed
five inch spikes to equalize her position. She squared her
shoulders and marshaled her forces.

"Yes. I'm the Kearn in Kearn's Automotive
Repair. May I help you?" she repeated.

He scanned the service area, assessing the
space and equipment. "You were the only garage in the area open
this late on a Friday, and you're the only one open tomorrow. I
need my car as soon as possible. How much do I have to pay to get
it on your roster first thing in the morning?"

Somehow, Darcy held on to her rising temper.
"We don't work that way Mr..."

"Hallaran. Seth Hallaran," he supplied
brusquely.

Hallaran. Hallaran. The name bounced around
in her head while she tried to place it. "Mr. Hallaran, we're
booked solid. Memorial Day last weekend backed us up, and with
regular customers needing inspections--"

He eyed her again in earnest. "Come on, Ms.
Kearn. What will it take?"

She gave up trying to place his name.
Whoever he was, he was used to getting what he wanted. Well, not
this time.

If he wouldn't listen to reason, he could
just take his fabulously virile, bronzed body and his car to
someone else's garage.

"Mr. Hallaran, you're welcome to take your
car elsewhere if you'd prefer not to wait until we can fit you
in."

The pulse low on his jawline worked rapidly
as his voice rumbled with restrained anger. "That's difficult since
it won't run on its own and I had it towed here. Now it's your
responsibility."

Darcy suppressed a sigh. Why did her
customers think she was an all-powerful mechanical wizard? In this
day and age with computers running almost everything, she could
only do so much. She stepped from behind the counter to look out
the window at his state-of-the-art, cobalt-blue sporty car hanging
from the back of the tow truck. Slowly, she counted to ten,
recalling how her father had taught her humor and patience were
more profitable than a careless tongue.

She turned and faced him. "Mr. Hallaran, did
you have your tonsils out?"

His brows arched. "Yes. Why?"

"I just wondered if the doctor removed your
patience and good humor as well."

For a moment he looked as if he wanted to
shake her. Then his scowl disappeared and he laughed. A loud deep
laugh that rumbled to her toes. She realized he wasn't angry with
her, but at the circumstances that had brought him here.

The laugh diminished to a chuckle as he
shook his head. "I'm sorry if I was rude. I never expected to
puncture a gas tank. I didn't have a cell signal where it happened
and I had to walk a mile in this heat to get one. Then I had to
wait forty-five minutes for the tow truck. And you stand there
looking as cool and casual as a fresh strawberry."

"Is that your idea of a compliment?"

He grinned. "Not usually. But with those
freckles and red hair-- I'm really bungling this, aren't I?"

"You'd better stop while you're ahead." She
couldn't suppress a smile.

He stepped closer until she could smell
musky male. One pulse chased another until all of them sounded in
her ears. She took a step back. Intimidation was one thing, sheer
male power was quite another.

He cocked his head. "Look, Ms. Kearn. I'm
sorry if I insulted your business ethics. I'm used to city politics
and practices. I recently moved here, and Hershey's still
unfamiliar to me. That's one of the reasons I need
transportation."

He had charm. She'd give him that. And he
knew when to use it. But that didn't change anything. "Even if I
could fit you in tomorrow morning, which I can't," she emphasized,
"I don't have a new tank. I won't be able to get one until Monday
morning. I can give you the number where you can rent a car."

Seth frowned. Something in Darcy Kearn's
eyes, the honesty in her voice, tiptoed across his soul. The
sensation rattled him and he reached for a suave comeback. But one
wasn't there. He stared at her until he regained his composure.
Honesty? Since when had he met a grade A honest woman?

Suddenly, the outside door opened with a
bang.

The man's suit was expensive, the cigar in
his mouth imported. His pot belly almost hid his gold belt buckle
and his face was contorted with anger. Seth was instantly on the
alert.

The newcomer was sweating profusely as he
headed straight for Darcy, flicked the cigar from his mouth, and
bellowed, "I told you I wouldn't pay another mechanic for something
he didn't fix right. That ### air conditioner shut off over in
Palmyra!"

Instinctively, Seth stepped closer to Darcy
and was surprised by the fragrance of a flowery perfume. Why the
devil did she wear that in a garage?

An odd protectiveness he hadn't felt in a
long time put more menace in his voice than he intended. "The lady
doesn't appreciate your tone or your language."

The grey haired man stared him down. "I
don't know who you are, but if you're part of this business I'll
sue you too. I want that air conditioner fixed and if it's not done
right this time, I want my money back. You people seem to think you
can charge an arm and a leg without doing a minute's worth of
work."

"Mr. Pickering." Darcy's soft voice cut the
tension between the men.

Mr. Pickering switched his gaze to her.

"I know this is inconvenient for you. But I
told you the air conditioner on your car was unfamiliar to us.
Steve made the corrections he thought were necessary, but we'd be
happy to look at it again."

Seth couldn't believe the change that came
over Pickering as he stared at Darcy long and hard and her gaze
didn't waver. The belligerent expression left his face, and he
looked almost contrite.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll give you
another chance. But I won't pay three times to have the same thing
fixed."

She smiled patiently. "We wouldn't expect
you to. Of course, we'll look at it free of charge." Her voice was
calm and certain.

Pickering hazarded Seth a glance. "I'll
bring the car back on Monday. I need it this weekend, with or
without air conditioning." He stuffed the cigar back in his mouth
and exited as loudly as he'd entered.

Darcy moved to the back of the service desk.
"I didn't need your interference," she said in a low voice.

Seth was as surprised at her tone as he was
at her words. Interference? Most women would thank him for stepping
in. "He could have become even more abusive than he was."

"I can handle Mr. Pickering. Before he came
to us, he'd had several bad experiences with service departments.
He's a sales rep and spends most of his day in his car. He needs
that air conditioning."

"That doesn't give him the right to
be..."

"Rude?" she asked sweetly.

The longer Seth was in this woman's company,
the more she intrigued him. She seemed capable of handling any
situation. But that didn't mean she couldn't use help. Legal help.
In case the blustering man's threat wasn't in vain, Seth pulled his
wallet out of his back pocket and extracted a business card.

"If Pickering makes good his threat or gives
you trouble, call me. We can do something legally."

She accepted the card and read it. A strange
expression crossed her face. "That's where I heard your name!"

"Excuse me?"

"You're a lawyer. You're representing Brad
Winston."

"Do you know him?"

"His ex-wife is my best friend." She looked
up at Seth, her eyes filled with accusation. "I can't believe you
took his case. He doesn't deserve to have custody of his daughter.
Marsha has taken care of Jenna, paid Brad's debts--"

Seth cut in. "Obviously your view is
biased."

She blew out a breath as if struggling with
her patience. Her cheeks were as rosy as her voice was agitated.
"I'm a lot less biased than you. You don't know Marsha or Brad or
Jenna. How can you dream of taking a little girl from her
mother?"

"Just a minute. From what Winston tells me,
he has cause."

"He lies. He always has. It gets him out of
trouble."

Seth had only agreed to consider Winston's
case last week, not take it on as yet. But if what the divorced man
had told him was true, he had grounds to fight for custody. If
Darcy and Marsha Winston were best friends, Darcy was probably
blinded by loyalty. Seth had seen that happen many times.

"It looks like we're on different sides of
the fence."

Darcy lifted her chin. "It doesn't matter if
we are." Her fiery, shoulder-length hair was incongruous with the
overalls decorated with swipes of grease. One smudge smeared a
particularly enticing spot on her left breast. "Yes, it does."

He lodged one hip against the desk in a
relaxed pose, though he felt far from relaxed, wondering if she was
as soft as she looked beneath that smudge. "I'd like you to go to
dinner with me tonight."

She blinked. "That's not a good idea."