The Keeper Read Online Free

right
where you are, honey," he responded, pulling her in close again.
    "Do you want me to do
something for you?" She ran her fingers up and down the center of his
chest and caressed his nipples through the soft cotton of his T-shirt.
    He hissed in response. "Man,
do I ever, but this isn't the place."
    "Do you want to go back to my
house?"
    He jerked roughly when he heard the
chirp of his cell phone. "Shit." He had to juggle her to lean forward
to where he'd put the phone on the dashboard. "Rayne." He listened
for a few seconds. "Okay, Mol. Yeah, I'll be there."
    He wrapped his hand around her neck
and tipped up her chin. Then he ran a finger down the furrow between her brows.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am. I have to go, when I'd rather be doing
this." He brushed his lips over hers, back and forth. When she started to
moan and amp up her response, he knew he'd better quit, or they'd start up
again.
    "What happened?" she
whispered, her voice none too steady.
    "Zayboh's on call, but he
didn't answer his cell. He's gonna get his butt kicked. Luckily for me, I
answered," he said, the sarcasm clear in his voice. "I'm really
sorry, but I have to take you home."
    "I understand. It's
okay."
    "No, it's not okay," he
said as he settled her back on her side of the car and started the engine.
    "We'll have another time. I
hope."
    "You bet we will." He
leaned over and gave her another long, gentle kiss. "Shit," he
muttered against her lips. "I've gotta go."
    When they reached her house, he
gave her one final kiss. "I'll call you tomorrow. Okay?"
     
    Chapter Four
    The minute Sharon got inside her
place the phone rang. She hardly had a chance to catch her breath before
answering. Glancing at the kitchen clock, her stomach clutched with worry.
There was only one person who would be calling her this late.
"Hello?"
    "Sharon, you gotta come home
right now."
    She leaned on her counter and took
a deep breath, biting back her automatic irritable response of what now?
Focusing her attention on the Hunks of HGTV calendar hanging on her
kitchen wall, she finally said, "Mom, what's the matter? Why are you
calling so late?"
    "Your father's back."
    She doubled over as if the breath
violently punched out of her lungs. Her head reeled. Her legs folded, and she
had to plop down onto the floor.
    "Did you hear me? Are you
there?"
    She tried to make her voice as even
as possible. "Yes, I heard you."
    "Well, he wants to see
you."
    Breathing deeply, her mouth wide
open to take in as much air as possible, she fought the nausea and anger
roiling in her stomach. "Is that so?"
    "Can you come here?"
    She caught her mother's anxiety.
"Is he standing there right now?"
    "Yeah."
    "Why did he come back?"
She was asking questions to delay thinking or acting.
    "Here, he wants to talk to
you."
    Sharon clicked the phone off and
sat there, shaking. There was no way she wanted to talk to him. The very last
time she saw him she was ten years old. Sixteen years without him, without any
word about or from him. She tried to repress the nausea, the tears, the pain,
and the reminders of the despair at his rejection so many years before.
    As an adult, she'd read enough to
realize his leaving wasn't her fault, but the chubby little girl still inside
her feared it was. Damn it, she didn't care. Let her mother handle him. She
didn't care if she ever saw him again. He wasn't going to get another chance to
hurt her. Her phone rang again. Her first thought was to let it ring, but she
answered.
    "I can't talk right now. I'll
call you tomorrow." She hung up again. And in case that didn't get her
message across well enough, she unplugged the phone.
    Oh, God, what if this had happened
when Pete was here? He would have been out the door in a second, never to see
her again.
    She spent the rest of the night in
her dancing clothes, huddled on the couch. Every time she dozed off, she jerked
awake in a heart-thumping state of anxiety. This would spell the end of any
relationship, even short term,