Elisabeth Naughton - Hold On To Me

Kate glanced past Simone toward her husband, and, Simone knew, to Mitch beyond. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think Simone and I need to take a drive up to Stinson Beach,” Mitch said.

His deep voice sent a shudder through Simone. It was the first thing he’d said through the entire conversation, and the thought of being alone with him in the car for several hours made her pulse beat faster.

Slowly, she turned in her chair to look. Then wished she hadn’t. Though he was leaning back against the counter, his hands perched on the surface behind him, his stance relaxed, she caught the unease in his gaze. And the look that told her he wasn’t so convinced anything they found was going to help in the long run.

“I’m thinking that too,” Ryan said. “And while you two are doing that, Katie and I are going to try to track down more info about this reporter. Someone she was working with had to know what she was digging into.“

“Great,” Kendrick said near the stove with a frown. “Everyone’s got a job but me.”

Kate pushed out of her chair, crossed to Kendrick, and patted him on the shoulder. “I’d think you’d be thrilled to finally be rid of us all.”

Kendrick gripped her hand before she could get away, pulled it to his mouth, and kissed her fingers. “You? Never. Them?” He nodded toward Ryan, then Mitch. “Absolutely.”

Kate laughed. From the opposite counter, Ryan muttered, “Not a groupie, Kendrick. Watch it.”

Kendrick chuckled and steered Kate toward the refrigerator. “Have you ever had one of my famous mimosas? I think you’ll really like it. In fact, something tells me you could all use one.”

Simone chanced one last look at Mitch. And suddenly thought the same thing. Because even though there was now a slim chance she could make things right for him, the dark look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Nothing had changed between them. And though she might be able to save his life, there was no way she could fix what was broken between them.

Mitch glanced across the console toward Simone, asleep in the front seat of Kendrick’s snazzy Range Rover. She’d zoned off somewhere after Sacramento, and, at the moment, he was thankful for the quiet.

After showering and changing, they’d both said their good-byes, then headed out, hoping to make it to Stinson Beach before dark. They’d made small talk on the drive through the mountains, but neither had brought up what had happened last night. She was being standoffish with him, and he couldn’t blame her. After all, he was the one who’d talked her into staying, then climbed out of bed without a word and avoided her since. But what she didn’t know was that it was killing him being close to her and not touching her. And every minute he went on with this stupid charade of not caring felt like another blow to his already battered heart.

He wasn’t going to tell her, though. He’d been over it a million times in his head, and every time he thought of returning that love she’d professed for him last night, he came back to the same harsh reality that had been plaguing him since he’d found out this was all linked to the Cyphers. If he told her how he really felt, it would only prolong the inevitable. She was still going to hate him when it was over. And they still weren’t going to end up together. So he was doing them both a favor by not leading either one of them on longer than he already had.

He just wished he hadn’t been so damn weak last night and had let her leave when she’d tried.

He turned off I-80 toward Novato. As the bay came into view, an ache formed in his belly, one that urged him to drive down to Pacifica and check out the damage to his house. Not that it would matter. Not that he could do anything about it now anyway. A lot like his relationship with Simone.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon by the time he pulled into Stinson Beach. They’d gotten stuck in traffic near Sacramento and again outside San Francisco, but Simone didn’t even stir until he turned off Highway 1, heading toward Seadrift where her parents—correction, friends—had a house.

She shifted in her seat, blinked several times in the fading light, and looked around. “We’re here already? Wow.” She brushed the hair back from her face, looking sleepy and sexy and oh so kissable in the fading light. “I was more tired than I thought. Thanks for driving.”

He shifted in his own seat, fighting the urge to reach for her again, to kiss her, to lose himself in her for one more night, and focused on the road. “No problem.”

He pulled to the security gate. Simone rolled down her window, leaned over him, and handed the security guard a card from her wallet. “Hi.” The sweet scent of her perfume rose up in the air around him, her tantalizing breast brushing his arm in the process. “Quiet up here tonight.”

“It’s always quiet during the week.” There was no amusement in the guard’s voice, no interest in small talk either. And how the hell the guy didn’t look down at Simone’s breasts beneath the thin white T-shirt that Mitch couldn’t seem to stop fantasizing about was beyond his comprehension. “Address?”

Simone gave the guard the address and waited while he disappeared in the small building.

“Friendly,” Mitch muttered.

“Most of the houses in Seadrift are vacation homes.” Simone leaned back in her seat, and a wave of disappointment rushed over Mitch. Not that he could handle more, but damn, that had felt good. “The owners come here for peace and quiet, not to be chatted up by the locals.”

“Is that what this is? A vacation home?”

“No. The place was pretty run down when Ray and Betty bought it. Ray’s an architect. He loved the lines and art deco style of the house as soon as he saw it. They’ve been remodeling the place room by room for years, whenever they have time off, but he’s so worried about preserving the integrity of the original design, he won’t just hand it over to any contractor. They’re planning to retire here, once it’s finally finished, if they ever get around to it.”

“Is that why you moved out here? Because of them?”

“Yeah.” She glanced toward the security house, looking for the guard. “When I left Baltimore, I didn’t really know where I was going. Ray and Betty are the ones who suggested I use their house. They’ve remodeled the downstairs, but the second floor’s still a mess. Originally, I was going to take them up on the offer, but after I thought about it, I couldn’t do it. It’s their nest egg. Then I figured if I had to go somewhere, at least I could go to a place where I might know someone…eventually.”

“And your husband’s stuff?”

A troubled look crossed Simone’s features as she continued to stare out the window. “I didn’t want it at the house. When I was trying to figure out what to do with it all, Betty suggested I store his boxes here, until, at least, they move in.”

The logical part of Mitch wanted to ask why she didn’t want Steve’s stuff at her house, but the emotional part, the part that was still having trouble processing everything, wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He looked out the driver’s window, toward the Pacific. Dark clouds were rolling in from the ocean, a storm brewing in the distance, already blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the beach. “Do you bring Shannon up here?”

“No. I don’t bring anyone here. I haven’t wanted to be around any of this.”

If he’d gone through what she had, he might not want his daughter around the reminders either.

His daughter.

Shannon.

His chest grew tight. She was never going to be his daughter now. And no amount of wanting or crying about it was going to change that fact.

The guard came back and handed Simone her gate card. She nodded and tucked it back in her wallet. The guard pointed directions, then disappeared back into the building, and, seconds later, the gate lifted.

Mitch put the car in gear and turned left onto the street. They wove roughly half a mile down the strand before she pointed to a modern, geometrically shaped house that faced the ocean, with various rooflines and decks. Flowering plants and shrubs rustling in the breeze surrounded the house. Mitch glanced in the rearview for the hundredth time, but no one was following them. For a moment, at least, they had a respite. Something else he was thankful for.

He cut the engine in the driveway. Simone drew a deep breath, reached for her bag at her feet, and popped the door. “Come on.”

Wind whipped Mitch’s hair back from his face when he stepped from the car. The trees were already blowing vigorously. While Simone found the key, he grabbed their bags and followed her inside.

The walls were white, the floor a rustic sun-bleached pine. The main room was vast, with vaulted ceilings, a river rock fireplace, and a white couch and side chairs that seemed to blend into the background. A few books lay haphazardly on the shelves, a seascape painting leaned against the wall, a couple of mismatched lamps on the wooden end tables gave the room a rustic, outdoorsy feel. A hallway ran off the main room, disappearing toward the master bedroom, Mitch guessed, and a set of stairs led to what he suspected were the unfinished rooms above that Simone had mentioned. The house was definitely old, but Mitch could see the classic lines and geometric shapes, and the view of the beach, the way the designer had obviously engineered the house so it felt like it was an extension of the beach rather than an obstruction, was clear even to him.

“Wow.”

Simone crossed to the kitchen and flipped on lights. The counter wasn’t regular granite. It was sandblasted, with rough, textured edges showcasing the white and black specks all through the marble. “It’s not close to being done, but it’s coming along.”