Expecting Thunder's Baby

Once she and Thunder were standing on the walkway that led to the motel rooms, he squinted at her. Although the spring weather was comfortable, the sun was bright.

“How about a soda?” he asked.

“That sounds good.” Her throat was suddenly parched. Being this close to him was giving her that knee-jerk reaction she’d stupidly told Kevin about.

They strolled to the nearest vending machine, and he fed it the appropriate amount of coins, choosing a grape drink for her and a lemon-lime for himself.

Carrie glared at him.

“What?” he said.

“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”

“I know what you like.”

“Maybe my tastes have changed.”

“Then take this one.” He thrust his can at her.

She accepted the lemon-lime and stiffed him with the grape, knowing that it was his least favorite, that it reminded him of cough syrup.

He popped the top and took a swig. He didn’t make a face. He drank it as though it quenched his thirst just the same.

She followed suit, waiting for him to speak. He finished his soda first, crushing the can and chucking it in the recycle bin.

“I invited your parents to dinner,” he said.

She glared at him all over again. “What for?”

“Because my mom asked me to. She wants my family to entertain yours.”

Good grief. “When? And where?”

“Tomorrow at the old homestead.”

The ancient property where he’d grown up, she thought. A place with mesquite trees, an adobe patio and a weathered barn.

“My family misses yours,” he said, his expression deep and dark, his frown lines more pronounced. “They wanted to stay in touch, but it got awkward after the divorce…”

His words trailed, but his meaning was clear. For him, it was still awkward. For Carrie, too. They’d got married on the homestead.

“Our folks were compatible in-laws,” she said.

“Yeah.” He tugged his hand through his hair, making the strands spike. “I’m supposed to invite you, as well. My parents miss you, too.”

Her heart squeezed. She’d loved the Truenos as much as they’d loved her. “Will you be there?”

He nodded. “Mom would pitch a fit if I bailed out.”

“What about Dylan?”

“He’ll be around. He just got back in town.”

“I’d like to see everyone.”

“Then I’ll tell my meddling mom that you’re coming.” He smiled a little. “I don’t know how my dad deals with having such a pushy wife.”

She smiled, too. “The same way my dad does.”

“Poor bastards.”

“Thunder.” She scolded him, and they both laughed.

Then she caught him giving her one of his blatant looks, stabbing her with hot, hard energy. She lifted her soda and took a sip, wetting her mouth.

But it didn’t help.

Carrie’s ex-husband was seducing her all over again.

On Monday Carrie took her own car to the Trueno’s house. She pulled into the graveled driveway and parked behind her parents’ sedan. Scanning the other vehicles, she noticed a big black Hummer vehicle with California plates. Thunder’s L.A. lifestyle was showing.

Nervous, she climbed out of her car and smoothed her clothes. She’d chosen jeans and a white eyelet blouse, with a turquoise tank top underneath. Her belt and boots were tooled leather.

The property looked nearly the same, close enough to pincushion her memories, to leave sharp little points in her brain. The house had been built before Cactus Wren had become an official county. The Truenos’ neighbors were still few and far between. Carrie looked at the trees that shaded her path. They were twenty to thirty feet tall, with smooth, dark brown barks that separated into long, shaggy strips. On her wedding day, they’d been decorated with silver ribbon.

She shook away the image and proceeded to a wraparound porch. While she knocked on the door, her heart pounded just as hard. Margaret Trueno, Thunder’s mother, answered the door.

The older woman squealed, invited her inside, then latched onto her for a hug. Margaret had gained about twenty pounds, and her shoulder-length hair was salted with gray, marking the years they’d been apart. She smelled sweet and earthy, like the herbs she’d always grown on her windowsill.

They stepped back to gaze at each other. “You’re as stunning as ever,” Margaret said.

Carrie smiled. “So are you.” Thunder’s mom had enhanced her beauty with a colorful cotton dress and the handcrafted jewelry she used to sell at powwows.

“I’m in my sixties.”

“We’re all getting older.”

Margaret nodded, and Carrie remembered how much she’d wanted to be a grandmother.

“Is that our girl?” a man asked.

Thunder’s father. Carrie saw Nolan Trueno coming around the corner. He was as solid as an oak and handsome in the way that made outdoorsy men look ruggedly distinguished.

He stepped forward and kissed her cheek. He and his wife had been raised on tribal lands, but they’d left the reservation so Nolan could attend a state university, where he’d earned a degree in biology. Later, he and Margaret had bought the homestead, keeping recreational horses and raising two sons.

“I’ve been waiting for you to get here,” he said. “I didn’t want to light the barbecue until you arrived. Your dad and the boys are out back.”

“And my mom?”

“In the kitchen,” Margaret supplied. “She’s been helping me with the salads and side dishes.”

In no time, Carrie was escorted onto the patio. Thunder snared her like a rabbit. He stood up to greet her, and she felt the impact of his presence. Behind him, in a rock-garden setting, was the rustic gazebo where they’d exchanged vows. Carrie shifted her gaze away from it.

Thunder reintroduced her to Dylan, and she searched for evidence of the boy he used to be. But all she saw was a dark-eyed man with a square jaw and killer cheekbones. He wore his hair long, and his clothes were a tad dusty, as though he’d spent the earlier part of the day in the barn. Dylan was as tall as his older brother but not quite as broad. His muscles were leaner, rangier, cut a bit more sharply. She suspected that he was still boxing, still blowing off steam in the ring.

“You’re looking good,” he told her, taking both of her hands in his and openly flirting.

Damn, she thought. Not only was Dylan gorgeous, he had a wicked sense of humor. She could tell he was trying to get Thunder’s goat. “Thank you. So are you.”

Thunder nudged his brother out of the way, and Dylan winked at Carrie. Suddenly she realized how dangerous all of this was. Thunder had no qualms about restaking his claim.

But that didn’t mean he’d be getting what he was after.

Thunder listened to the conversations going on around him. The moms blabbed throughout the meal, catching up on each other’s lives. The dads were enjoying themselves, too. As for the divorced offspring…

Carrie added more margarine to her corn, seemingly busy with her food, and Thunder worked out a plan to be with her.

In her bed, he thought.

Why fight the attraction? Why drive himself crazy with it?

He looked up and caught Dylan watching him. The younger man lifted his beer, then tipped it in a subtle toast, wishing Thunder luck with his ex.

Wise guy, Thunder thought.

A few minutes later Dylan’s expression turned serious, and Thunder knew his brother’s thoughts had wandered, that the case they were working on had entered his mind, casting its dark shadow. He’d been traveling extensively, looking for clues, for answers, for someone who might know where Julia and Miriam were, but he hadn’t uncovered any leads.

After dinner Thunder finagled some alone time with Carrie. Not that it took much finagling. Both sets of parents seemed pleased that they’d gone off by themselves.

They walked toward the barn. The sun was in the process of setting, turning the sky a soft reddish hue.

“Is Dylan’s ranch close by?” Carrie asked.

Thunder frowned. He hadn’t whisked her away to discuss his brother. “No. It’s on the west side of town. Near the river.”

“And that’s where he found Julia?”

“Yes.” They kept walking, taking a path lined with spiny shrubs, foliage that grew comfortably in the dry desert soil.

She turned to look at him. “Julia was pretty when she was young.”

He had no idea where this conversation was leading. “So?”

“So…has Dylan mentioned if he’s attracted to her?”

Thunder stopped and shook his head. “What are you doing? Trying to make something romantic out of this? She was bound and gagged when he found her, with rope burns on her wrists and ankles and dirt and dust on her face and clothes.”

A small breeze blew, stirring Carrie’s hair. “I’ll bet he carried her out of that trailer.”

“I’ve carried victims out of agonizing situations, too.” But the only time he’d ever felt truly helpless was when Carrie had lost the baby. She’d been cramped into a ball, bleeding onto the bed, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing. Nothing but dial 9-1-1. “Can we change the subject?”

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

She sighed, and the sound drifted into the air. “There is no us, Thunder.”

“There could be.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to dump Kevin and come to California with me.”

She sucked in a breath. “Just like that? I’m supposed to run off with my ex-husband?”

“Just for a few weeks. During your vacation.”

“That’s crazy,” she said, scoffing at the idea.

They reached the barn, and he escorted her inside. The building housed two geldings, as well as an Australian shepherd that slept in the tack room.

When the lazy old dog roused from his nap and lumbered forward to greet them, Carrie petted his mottled head, using him as a diversion.

Thunder wasn’t about to give up. Being this close to Carrie was making him hungry for the past, for the kind of passion they’d had when they were young. He wanted to rekindle those forbidden feelings, those desperate, consume-each-other moments. “We can work on being friends.”

She quit petting the dog, stopping to give Thunder a serious study. Then she crossed her arms, using body language that was far from cordial. “You’re just trying to get me into bed.”

He sent her a cheeky grin. “What’s wrong with being friendly lovers?”

She punched his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

He ignored the girly hit. She’d never learned to form a proper fist. “I’m honest, Carrie. I always was.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

His gut churned. “Because of Kevin?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with him. We’re not dating anymore.”

“Really?” His confidence boosted a notch. “Why? Because you started lusting after me again?”

She punched him again. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Even if it’s true?” He knew he was making headway. He could see a flicker of resolve in her eyes. “How about if we start off as friends and see where it leads?”

“What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?”

“Then I’m screwed. Or not screwed.” He chuckled at his own pathetic wit. “I’m willing to take my chances.” He paused, turned serious. “Honestly, Carrie, I’d really like to try to be friends. I’ve never been comfortable with the way things ended between us.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Would it help if I told you that I have a house on the beach?” he asked, recalling the seascape prints on her walls.

She didn’t respond, but he figured the surf and sand was food for thought. Silent, she headed for the stalls. The horses poked their heads over the wooden doors, curious to see who was visiting them. The dog followed along. So did Thunder. He liked watching Carrie. He liked the way she moved, the way her hips rocked.

She turned, then blindsided him with a question. “How long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”

He tried not to wince, to let his discomfort show. He didn’t keep score. But he always played it safe. He used condoms and got regular HIV tests. “I’m not going to answer something like that.”

She pressed the issue. “Why not? Because it’s only been a month? A week? A few days?”

“A few days? How would that be possible? I’ve been sleeping here.”

“In the barn?”

“At my parents’ house, smarty.”

“I don’t want to bump into your current lover in California, Thunder. I don’t want to get into a catfight with some jealous blonde.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Does that mean you’re coming home with me?”

“No. It just means that I’m assessing the situation.”

His smile fell. “There isn’t anyone who’s going to be jealous. I’ve never been involved with a woman who’s cared about me that much.” He paused, reached out to touch her, to brush his knuckles along her jaw. “No one but you.”

“And look what happened.” She covered his hand with hers. “We lost everything.”

“But we’re keeping it light this time. We’re embarking on friendship.”

“And sex, if you get your way.”

“Sex doesn’t have to be complicated.” He leaned in to kiss her, to taste what he’d been missing, but she slipped away.

Leaving him hanging, waiting and wondering what her final answer would be.

Three

“You’re supposed to talk me out of this,” Carrie said to her mom.

Daisy shook her head. She was sitting on Carrie’s sofa and was wearing pleated pants and a short-sleeved top. Her makeup had been carefully applied and her chestnut-brown hair was coiffed just so, courtesy of the beauty salon she’d been patronizing for over twenty years.

“It’s just a vacation,” Daisy said.

“With my ex-husband.” Carrie was too edgy to sit. She stood beside the gas fireplace she rarely used. The brick mantel was empty—no knickknacks, no family photos—a reminder that she was a longtime divorcée with no children.

“It’s a bit late for this conversation.” Daisy sipped a glass of instant lemonade. “You already told Thunder that you’d go with him.”

And now she was a nervous wreck, wondering what she’d got herself into. “He wasn’t supposed to come back into my life.”

“But he did, and you’re swayed by him. If you don’t do this, you’ll regret it.”

“You’re swayed by him, too.” Frustrated, Carrie glanced at her fingernails, where she’d picked at the week-old polish. “You’re taking his side.”

When the older woman set her drink on the coffee table, her hand lingered, showcasing a manicure that was fresh and glossy. “He loved you, honey. You know he did.”

Carrie’s heart lurched. “He never even said it.”

“But you know it’s true. You know how much he cared.”

“But I wanted him to say it.”

“So tell him that. Tell him how you feel.”

“After all this time?”

“Why not?” Daisy asked. “Besides, I think he still loves you.”

Good grief. She looked at the woman who’d given her life. “You only see what you want to see.”

“Thunder’s mother sees it, too. Margaret told me that her son has been lonely without you.”

“Lonely?” Carrie snorted. “When? In between all of his affairs?”

“Margaret thinks he does that to keep his mind off you.”

“Right. Twenty years of playing around to make up for a short-lived marriage with me. He may have done that in the beginning, but somewhere along the way he started to enjoy that lifestyle.”

“And now he wants to spend time with you.” Daisy stood up. “Just go to California, honey. Give him a chance.”

Carrie sighed. Arguing with her mother was pointless. “It doesn’t hurt that he lives at the beach.”

“Or that he still loves you.”

“Give it a rest, Mom.”

“Well, he does.” Daisy flashed a matchmaker’s smile, then went into the kitchen to put her glass in the sink.

Five minutes later, she left the condo, waving to her daughter. Carrie stood at the doorway and watched her go.

And that was when Thunder showed up and ran into Daisy. He greeted her on the walkway, exchanging friendly words and giving her a heartfelt hug.

After the older woman departed, he headed for Carrie’s condo. She still stood in the doorway, and when he noticed her, her pulse skittered.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m making sure you don’t change your mind.”

“I almost did.”

He moved closer, then stopped in front of her, making her much too aware of the words he’d never spoken, the love he’d never confessed.

“I figured you’d try to bail out,” he said.

“My mom was supposed to talk me out of going with you.”

“Fat chance of that.” He nudged her inside. “She wants us to get back together.”

Carrie frowned at him. “She told you that?”

“No. But it’s obvious. With my mom, too.” He took her hand and led her toward the stairs. “Let’s go to your room. To get you packed,” he added, before she could pull away from him.

“Are you this aggressive with the other women in your life?” By now, she was going upstairs with him, letting him call the shots and hating herself for it.

“You’re the only one who’s ever been difficult.” They reached her room, and he studied her unmade bed. “But it’s okay. I like the challenge.”

“Good thing.” She finally pulled away from him. “Because I intend to keep you at arm’s length.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to sleep with me?”

“Afraid so.” She opened the closet and removed her suitcase. Packing made sense, considering they were driving to California tomorrow.

“Then we’ll focus on being friends.” He sent her a bad-boy grin. “While I’m trying to seduce you.”

Carrie knew she was doomed. That sooner or later, she would end up in his bed, hot and hungry and stupidly naked. But she wasn’t about to admit it, at least not out loud. “I’m tougher than I look, Thunder.”

“I’m aware of how tough you are.” His grin faded. “I’ve got the divorce decree to prove it.”

She unzipped her suitcase and flung it open. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Literally. I kept the blasted thing as a reminder to never get married again.”

“Me, too.” It was in a safe-deposit box with other legal documents.

“We’re quite a pair.” He got nosy and looked through her closet, checking out her clothes, sliding hangers across the rod. “Bring this.” He grabbed a black cocktail dress. “And this.” A white suit with a glittery camisole attached. “For when we go someplace nice.”

“You’re going to wine and dine me?”

“It’s part of the seduction.” He tossed the fancy garments onto her bed. “Bring some slinky underwear, too. And a push-up bra if you have one. I like those lift-and-separate contraptions.”

“Too bad.” She went to her dresser, removing basic bras and prim cotton panties. “I’m not playing along with your seduction.”

“Spoilsport.”

When he turned his attention back to her closet, she crammed a push-up bra and a handful of thongs into her suitcase. Then she kept packing, wishing her heart wasn’t pounding so hard. Dangerous as it was, she wanted to make love with her ex-husband. And she wanted him to hold her afterward, to rekindle those tender moments from their youth. A tenderness she hadn’t felt since she was married to him.

He studied a pair of jeans. “Are these tight?”

“They stretch.”

“Kind of like rubber?” He flung them at her. “I’ll bet you look hot in them.”

She heaved the jeans back at him. “I don’t need you choosing my wardrobe.”

“Oh, yeah?” He snared her gaze, using those deep dark eyes as bait. “Then why did you sneak that sexy lingerie into your suitcase?”

Damn, she thought. He’d caught her, even while his back had been turned. But what did she expect? He was a security specialist, a man who’d been trained to be aware of his surroundings.

“Can’t a girl have a few secrets?” she said.

“Not with me around.” He sat on the edge of her unmade bed, crinkling the floral-printed sheets. “Can you take a longer vacation?”

“What? Why?” The change of topic threw her.

“Because I want you to stay with me for more than two weeks.”

She sat on the other edge of the bed, looking at him from across the rumpled linens. “I might be able to swing an extra week, but not if you keep bullying me.”

“Fine. You can choose your own wardrobe.” He stood up, blocking the window, shading the waning sunlight. “I’ve missed you, Carrie.”

Her chest turned tight. Was missing her the same as loving her? No, she thought. It wasn’t. Her mother was grasping at straws.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted, telling herself it didn’t matter.

This wasn’t a reconciliation.

After her vacation ended, they would still be divorced.

Thunder’s beachfront property was a few feet from the sand, with a stretch of sidewalk separating the three-story structure from what could only be described as paradise.

Carrie couldn’t help but sigh. She stood beside Thunder in front of his house, with her suitcase in tow, looking out at the sea. “I’m impressed,” she said.

“I bought this place a while ago.” He gestured to the other buildings scattered along the sidewalk. “Most of these are vacation rentals, but I live here year-round.”

“I can understand why.” The ocean provided a sense of power, of peace, of beauty. Dusk settled in the sky, while the surf crashed upon the shore, leaving foaming waves in its infallible wake.

“As you can see, it’s not a private beach.” He indicated the shops and eateries farther along the walkway. “There’s always activity around here. But I like to people-watch.”

“You always did.” She did, too. Even now she was mesmerized by a young couple who were strolling hand in hand, heading in the direction of the restaurants.

“Are you ready to settle in?” he asked. “To unpack?”

She nodded, then glanced at the military-style duffel bag he’d used as luggage while visiting his parents. Old habits ran deep, she thought. Somewhere deep inside, Thunder was still a soldier. “You need to unpack, too.”

He unlocked the front door, carried their bags inside and disabled a sophisticated security system. She looked around, intrigued by the split-level structure. The foyer presented two sets of stairs, one leading to the top floor and the other leading to the bottom. The middle level, decorated with casual furniture, offered a spacious living room, a tidy kitchen and a half bath.

“I sleep upstairs. And the guest room is below.” He latched onto the handle of her suitcase. “Where do you want to sleep?” He charmed her with a smile. “The master suite has a balcony with a view of the beach.”

She shook her head, laughed a little. “We just got here, and already you’re trying to con me into sharing your room.”

“Is it working?”

“Nope.” She itched to kiss him, to taste all that machismo, but she wouldn’t dare. Playing hard to get was part of the game, part of protecting herself, of building up the courage to have a mind-spinning, dangerously thrilling, much-too-lethal affair with her ex. “I’ll take the guest quarters.”

“If you say so.” He led her downstairs, where a medium-size bedroom with a pine dresser and a mirrored closet awaited. The color scheme was blue, like the ocean she couldn’t see. Several small windows showcased the house next door.

“There’s another room down here,” he said. “It’s on the other side of the bathroom. I made it into a gym.”

She peered into the hallway and caught a glimpse of an open doorway, where his workout equipment gleamed. “This house fits you.”

“The master suite is the best part. Are you sure you don’t want to stay there with me?”

“I’m sure,” she said, even though her skin tingled with a dying-to-be-touched sensation, reminding her of how good it felt to be near him.

“Then I’ll let you unpack. After that, we can catch some dinner.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Catch? We’re not going fishing, are we?”

He chuckled. “Not quite. I’m going to take you to the Crab and Clam. It’s within walking distance, and they serve the best .50 Calibers in town.”