Just Like the Ones We Used to Know Read online

  “Mom! Stop!”

  “Have always been crazy for each other,” she finished. “Oh, and bring some calendars for your aunt. She wants to give a few of them away.”

  “I’ve got to go,” he said.

  “When are you planning to do your shopping?”

  He scowled. “How do you know I haven’t done it already?”

  “Because you always wait till the last minute. You need a wife, Matthew.”

  “You’ve been saying that for years.”

  “And you’ve been ignoring me for just as long. You think I want to die without grandkids?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re barely fifty-five.”

  “And I feel every year of it. Your brother and his wife say they don’t want children. Can you imagine that? You’re my one hope, and you haven’t had a steady girlfriend in years.” She hung up, sounding thoroughly disgusted but, after a few seconds, Matt called her back.

  “Can I bring a couple of people to the party?”

  “Lewis and his family?”

  “No. A woman and her daughter.”

  There was an intrigued silence. “You’ve never brought a woman to the gift exchange before. Do I know her?”

  “She used to go to school with me. Now she lives in Denver.”

  “Really… Would she ever consider moving here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Has she seen the calendar?”

  He waved as one of the guys called out to him from his open door. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Bring an extra one just in case,” she said and disconnected.

  * * *

  PULLING HER MINISKIRT down as far as it could go—to mollify Angela’s nosy neighbors, two of whom were staring out their windows at her—Stephanie promised the cab driver that she’d pay him in a second and hurried up the walk. The house looked empty, and there was a For Sale sign in front, but Stephanie could see that the furniture was still in the living room. Angela might be planning to move, but she hadn’t done it yet.

  Her barely there sweater was more effective at attracting customers than keeping her warm, but she wrapped it around herself as well as she could and knocked on the door. Meanwhile, she could feel the neighbors’ eyes boring holes in her back. A cab in this exclusive area drew too much attention. She should’ve had the driver drop her at the corner so she could walk, but he probably wouldn’t have done it anyway. He didn’t want to let her too far out of his sight; she hadn’t paid him yet.

  No one came to the door. “She’s got my kid. But do you think she’d give me a number or tell me where the hell they’re at?” she grumbled. She knew she’d made Angela mad the last time they’d seen each other. After that, her friend’s numbers had all changed without warning. But Stephanie hadn’t wanted the help Angela had offered. She could live her own life, thank you very much.

  Glancing at the waiting taxi, she waved to reassure him and hurried around to the gate. She felt jittery, shaky, ill—and she knew it wasn’t related to the bronchitis she’d had for over a week. She needed some junk before her symptoms got worse. But if she couldn’t get inside the damn house, how was she going to get any money?

  The back door was locked as tight as the front. Stephanie could see a single light shining in the living room, the typical “sorry, we’re not home but don’t want you to know it” light, and considered breaking a window. She didn’t have any choice, did she? She had to get in, find a few bucks and get out. Before the neighbors could stop her.

  Her mind was fixated on the quarters and dimes Angie threw in a big jar on a shelf in her closet. There had to be thirty, forty bucks in there.

  Angie didn’t need it. She never used it. Stephanie knew that was all it would take to carry her through the night. It’d be different if she’d been able to work. But what man wanted to pay for a woman with a raging fever and a hacking cough?

  Finding a rock in the planter area next to the French doors, she bent to pick it up. But her hand was shaking so badly she could hardly lift it, and by the time she’d managed, the man from next door was standing less than ten feet away.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  She dropped the rock and ducked her head so he couldn’t see the black eye she’d sustained from a particularly rough customer four days earlier. “Angie, she—she’s my friend. She said I could borrow forty bucks, to—to come on over and get it. But I—I got a cab waiting out front. And she’s not here.”

  “She told you to come over.”

  It wasn’t a question. He was looking down his nose at her, like all the other rich bastards in this neighborhood.

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She knew her voice had grown belligerent, but she couldn’t seem to control it any more than she could control the shaking. She couldn’t think straight. The terrible need inside her was eating her up….

  “But that couldn’t possibly be true,” he replied. “As you can see, the house is closed up. She’s gone for the holidays.”

  Gone for the holidays? Angie never went anywhere for the holidays.

  “She—she said she’d give me forty bucks,” Stephanie insisted.

  “I think maybe you should seek a shelter and some professional help,” he said.

  Finally, she faced him squarely. “Listen, buddy, I—I’ll give you a blow job right here for twenty bucks,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything else you want for forty.”

  He didn’t take her up on her offer. He shook his head sadly, reached into his wallet and gave her the money.

  * * *

  ANGELA WAS PRETTY SURE that attending Matt’s family’s Christmas party was not a good idea. She would’ve said no—except that he’d asked Kayla first. And Kayla had, of course, immediately accepted. Kayla was playing cupid. She liked being around Matt. A lot.

  “Matt told us you two went to school together,” Ben, Matt’s father, said after they’d been ushered in and offered a drink. He was doing his best to make her feel comfortable.

  Angela glanced over at Matt, who stood by the punch bowl. He was talking to his brother and sister-in-law, who’d come from Reno, and a couple of uncles or cousins. Angela had been introduced to everyone, but Matt had such a big family, she was starting to lose track of who they were and how they all fit in. “That’s right. I lived with Betty Cunningham.”

  Matt’s dad was an older version of Matt, except there was gray mixed in with his dark blond hair, and he had brown eyes. Matt’s mother was almost as tall as his father, and significantly overweight, but she was jovial and warm.

  “Betty was a wonderful person,” Ben said. “Loved jewelry. Came down to the store often.”

  Angela liked the rustic log home Matt’s father had built. A mile or so from town, it was cut into Mount Davidson, like the other homes and businesses in the area, and smelled of the fire crackling in the hearth. Scrupulously clean and well-decorated in rustic browns and reds, it had a wall of windows in front. The Christmas tree stood before the windows, reaching all the way to the center beam of the polished wooden ceiling, its lights reflecting in the glass. Angela guessed that in the daytime, the Jacksons had a lovely view of the Como Mountains.

  “I miss her,” she admitted. Somehow, the hustle and bustle of the party and the easy camaraderie between all these people only added to Angela’s sense of isolation.

  “Your daughter is such a nice girl.” Sherry, Matt’s mother, joined them now that she’d finished whatever errand had sent her scurrying to the kitchen with Kayla as soon as she and Angela had arrived.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve got her decorating cookies with my sister’s kids,” she confided. “She’s a natural.”

  “I’m sure she’ll like that.” Angela caught Matt watching her. She smiled as if she were having a good time, but she wasn’t. She didn’t want to be here. This showed her what Kayla could have—without her.

  * * *

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” Matt asked.

  Angela had
left the party and stepped onto the extensive deck that wrapped around his parents’ home. A chill wind was blowing—possibly the beginning of the storm Peggy McGinness had predicted—but there was a full moon and when he came up next to her, he could see the snow glistening far below. It was beautiful. But not half as beautiful as the woman staring forlornly down at it.

  She glanced over at him. “Nothing, I just…needed some fresh air.”

  “Are you overwhelmed by the crowd?”

  “No,” she said, but when she met his knowing gaze, she instantly recanted. “Yes.”

  He chuckled with her. “You get used to the chaos.”

  “They’re great. You’re very lucky.”

  He knew he shouldn’t touch her. He’d promised himself he’d take the relationship more slowly, so she wouldn’t rebuff him again. But she looked so lost standing there, he couldn’t help trying to comfort her, include her. Moving behind her, he gripped the wooden railing, penning her between his arms. He was hoping she’d lean back and let him hold her, but she didn’t. “They really like Kayla,” he said.

  She had a strange expression on her face when she twisted to peer up at him.

  “Angela?”

  She studied him for a moment, then seemed to relax. “She likes them, too. She—she’s never had anything like this.”

  He slipped his arms around her, pulling her into full contact with him. He wanted to shelter her from the cold, close the emotional distance she kept putting between them as easily as he could close the physical one. If she’d let him… “Neither have you.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Lifting her hair, he pressed his lips to her neck. “Why not open up? Give it a try?” he asked softly.

  “Matt, I—” He stiffened, afraid she was going to pull away again. “I have something to tell you.”

  The tone of her voice didn’t sound promising. “What’s that?”

  “It’s about that night, with Stephanie.”

  He could tell by how rigid she’d gone that this wouldn’t be good. Could she have warned him and hadn’t? He no longer cared. That was thirteen years ago, and Stephanie had probably dragged her into it. He wasn’t going to allow what had happened then ruin what could happen now. “I don’t want to talk about that night,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned it never took place.”

  “But Stephanie—”

  “Doesn’t exist.”

  “Is that what you want?” she asked fervently. “To forget? To live your life just as it is?”

  “This is what I want,” he responded and, keeping their backs to the house in case anyone glanced out, he slid his hand up her smooth, flat stomach.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ANGELA KNEW BETTER than to let their relationship get physical. Matt claimed he didn’t care about what had happened thirteen years ago, but he didn’t understand. There was a living, breathing person as a result of that night. Surely, he’d want to know.

  Or maybe not. Maybe he liked his life exactly as it was. That was what he’d implied.

  But now wasn’t the time to dwell on her worries. His fingers were lightly caressing one breast through the thin fabric of her bra, sending shock waves of pleasure cascading through her.

  “Matt,” she murmured, still torn. Her conscience demanded she stop him, but her body begged her to close her eyes and forget. She’d tried to say his name in a commanding tone—but it came out choked and eager, and she could feel how deeply it affected him.

  Pulling her along the railing to a set of stairs, he led her down to a small guest room. Set off from the rest of the house, it had a bed and its own bath.

  “Let me see you,” he whispered as he shut and locked the door behind them.

  In the house above, they could hear Christmas music, laughter, the tramping of feet. But it seemed far removed from them. Angela imagined Kayla grinning from ear to ear, licking frosting off her fingers. For the moment, everyone was happy. There was no need to ruin the party by blurting out the truth or to deny themselves these few stolen minutes. What would that really change?

  Slowly, Angela slipped her red sweater over her head, watching carefully for Matt’s reaction as it dropped to the floor—and was gratified when his eyes darkened and his jaw sagged.

  “God, you’re more beautiful than I imagined.” Bending his head, he cupped her breasts, kissing the swell of one, then the other.

  Angela let her head fall back. She wouldn’t think, she told herself. Not about Denver or Virginia City. Not about the past or the future. She’d only feel—the feverish excitement building inside them; his deft hands unhooking her bra and sliding around to touch her; his warm, wet mouth closing over the tip of one breast; his muscular body pressing her into the mattress.

  * * *

  MATT COULDN’T BELIEVE he’d brought Angela into his old bedroom right in the middle of his parents’ Christmas party. He’d meant to kiss her, to catch a tantalizing glimpse of her body, to touch her briefly. But the situation was quickly spiraling out of control. And he couldn’t stop it for fear she’d never let him have another chance. His craving was too great. He had to feel her body’s quivering responses, acquaint himself with all the little things that made her moan and writhe and cry out.

  He hoped to make this as memorable as possible for her, but he didn’t dare take it slow. There wasn’t time. He didn’t want to embarrass her by being gone so long someone would come looking for them. And the way she was tugging impatiently at his clothes told him she was as frantic as he was.

  Once they were undressed, he pulled her down on the bed with him and pinned her arms over her head while he rolled on the condom he kept in his wallet.

  She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips wet and slightly parted. But the gentle kiss he meant to give her quickly turned savage. Soon he was driving into her with powerful, rapid strokes. Minutes later, they were both damp with sweat and gasping for breath. And just when he thought he was too far gone to hold back any longer, it happened. She groaned, met his gaze as if he’d given her the most wonderful gift in the world, and shuddered.

  He was only half a second behind her.

  * * *

  STEPHANIE LAY ON THE rumpled bed of the cheap hotel room staring bleary-eyed at the television. She could smell urine and perspiration, but it didn’t bother her. She squinted, trying to decide if she was actually watching a program. It didn’t matter. The flicker itself was fascinating, especially when her mind was floating so freely around the room. Spinning, moving, gliding…

  “Hey, get up, bitch.”

  Slowly, she turned her head and blinked. A man’s fuzzy shape appeared. Jaydog? “Hey, Jaydog,” she said, the syllables running together.

  She tried to make her gaping mouth form a smile, but he didn’t seem happy with her greeting. A sharp pain suddenly dimmed her euphoria. Had he kicked her?

  He was still kicking her. And screaming. He wanted her to do something. He wanted her to get out.

  Climbing to her feet, she swayed unsteadily as she walked, heading for an opening that was blinding in its brightness. That had to be the door. She misjudged the distance and ran into a corner, causing an additional glancing blow to her shoulder. But then she was outside and the door slammed behind her.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there before she noticed that she wasn’t wearing any clothes.

  * * *

  HE’D MADE A MISTAKE. Matt realized that almost right away. He’d expected his encounter with Angela to bring them closer, to put an end to her cautious reserve.

  But after they rejoined the party, she left his side as quickly as she could. He found his gaze trailing after her wherever she went, hoping for a smile or some reassurance that what they’d done was okay—but he got nothing. She wouldn’t even look at him. And if there was any accidental contact, she’d recoil.

  What was going on? What they’d shared had been a great deal more than he’d expected. Especially so early in their relationship. But she was leaving in a wee
k. It wasn’t as if they had months or years stretching out before them. Even if they maintained a relationship, they wouldn’t get to see each other very often. Besides, maybe he’d initiated the contact, but her surprising response had been the match that ignited the powder keg. The encounter had been completely spontaneous. Real. Raw.

  He couldn’t regret it.

  Yet she was even less open to him now than she’d been before.

  What had he done wrong? He supposed he shouldn’t have taken things so far. But he hadn’t planned for it to happen—not here, anyway.

  He wasn’t sure when he should’ve stopped. Angela had never indicated that she’d wanted him to. She’d acted as if she’d been starved for human touch, love.

  He’d wanted to give her both.

  He took a seat across the room from her and her daughter as his mother started handing out presents. Angela and Kayla sat with polite smiles fixed on their faces—outsiders looking in, enjoying everyone else’s gifts and excitement without hoping for anything themselves.

  He glanced over, but Angela avoided meeting his eyes. Again.

  Maybe she’d been so hurt in the past that she was scared to let down her guard, he decided. She must’ve had a lonely childhood, after losing both parents and then living like a guest in someone else’s house.

  Then there was Stephanie. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what dealing with her on a daily basis must’ve been like. Even as an adult Angela seemed to live a pretty solitary life—just her and Kayla. They were both engaging and polite, and he sensed that they wanted closer relationships than they had but didn’t know how to reach out because they had no trust.

  He remembered Kayla’s story about her father. So he walked out, and left my mom to raise me by herself. We don’t even know where he is.

  The bastard had caused some deep scars.

  “Are you going to open it?”

  Matt blinked and focused on his sister-in-law, who’d just shoved a present into his lap.

  “Sure,” he said, and unwrapped a bottle of his favorite cologne.

  “This is great. I was getting low.” He gave her a hug, then waited for the process to continue around the circle until it was Angela’s and Kayla’s turn.