Out of the Depths

But, man! She’d looked good. A little on the thin side even for her tiny frame, but the tight thermal top and jeans she’d worn showed she still had curves in all the right places.

Her green, catlike eyes had been alarmed when she first recognized him. What was that about?

Fear wasn’t an emotion he associated with Kyn. She’d always shown so much spunk. Taking care of herself when her mother would leave and stay gone for days. Never missing school. Graduating as valedictorian. Kyndal was a fighter and a survivor.

He’d only seen her truly afraid twice. Once when Amos Turner showed up with his gun to run them away from the cave. And the day he’d broken up with her. The terror of losing him had radiated from her eyes. God, he could still feel her arms around him in that death grip as she pleaded for him to change his mind. These nine years later, the guilt and regret still ate at him. Guilt that he couldn’t make what they had gel with what he needed. Regret that he had to end it the way he did because he’d had no other option.

“Damn it! I’m doing it again.”

This was crazy. Yes, for a couple of years, he and Kyndal spent every possible minute together, but that finished long ago. They went their separate ways, became different people, grew up, grew apart. End of story.

He snatched up the notes he’d made on the Farley case, determined to divert his attention. It was clear why his dad had passed the case to him. The Farleys’ son, Morton, had been killed in a car accident so similar to Hank’s it made him nauseous to read.

College kids on summer vacation. Drinking to excess. Driving too fast. Crossing the center line and meeting a semi head-on.

No civil suit would ever bring their son back. Couldn’t they see that? Their lives would never be the same. But if they didn’t let go of the grief eating them alive, they’d soon be consumed by it, and it would destroy anything they’d ever had together.

The judge who’d presided over his family’s case had been a showboat, working hard toward reelection. He hadn’t demonstrated a true sense of right and wrong, or given a damn about fairness. He’d turned the whole fiasco into a venue to generate publicity with no regard of the pain he caused. That the idiot ruled in their favor against the tired truck driver was a travesty of justice.

Not a day went by that Chance didn’t remind himself how Hank’s civil suit ripped apart the last vestiges of family life for them and brought only heartache instead of closure. And it left him with a relentless drive to become a judge who would treat people with fairness and dignity no matter what their circumstances.

He stood and walked away from the desk, trying to leave behind the haunting image of his parents as they’d been since his brother’s death.

To this day, they’d never really dealt with Hank’s death. Never let their grief out like he had the day of the funeral with Kyndal. Thank God, he’d had somebody like her back then.

Damn it! Back to Kyndal. This round-robin thinking was getting him nowhere and getting nothing taken care of…but he couldn’t get her off his mind.

He sat back down and typed Kyndal Rawlings into the search engine on his computer and clicked on the first link that appeared—an interesting and eye-opening account of a lawsuit that shut down the True Tennessee website. She hadn’t mentioned any of that during their short visit. Not that he blamed her. The article indicated quite a scandal.

If it had been anybody but Kyndal, he would’ve thought it served her right. But it was Kyn, and damn liberal or not, she deserved better. She would survive, though. She always had.

His stomach growled as he closed his laptop, reminding him he’d skipped lunch. Only a wood-fired oven pizza and a cold beer from Max’s Café would satisfy the craving.

* * *

MAX’SWASCROWDED, but that was expected. Everybody came to Max’s. Getting a seat would take at least an hour, even as a single, but Chance thought he could hold off starvation with a couple of beers. Axel put his name on the list and said he’d find him in the bar when something opened up.

Tripp, the bartender, saw him making his way through the throng and had a cold one waiting for him by the time he got to the bar.

“You look like you need this.” Tripp handed him the frosted mug.

“Tripp, have I ever told you you’re my favorite person?” Chance swigged the beer, relishing the biting chill on his tongue and down his throat. “Wanna marry me? Have one of these waiting for me when I get home, and I’ll never ask any more of you.”

“Never knew you swung that way, Chance.” The high-pitched voice by his shoulder could only belong to one person.

“Jaci.” Chance turned toward her with a shake of his head. “Are you stalking me today?”

“Nope, but I thought maybe you were stalking Kyndal.” Jaci tilted her head toward the door.

Through the opening, he could see the fire pit blazing in the middle of the beer garden. Kyndal sat close enough for the fire to lend a rosy glow to her skin.

Her head fell back as she and Bart laughed together, unaware they were being watched. The firelight sparkled on her silky, black hair cascading down her back. Relaxed and carefree, she looked even better than she had earlier in the day.

Chance’s mouth went dry. He took another gulp and shook his head in answer to Jaci’s remark. “She told me she was going back to Tennessee this afternoon.”

Jaci wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “We talked her into staying the night. Why don’t you join us—unless you’re waiting for someone?”

Much as he’d like to visit some more with Kyndal—maybe on a friendlier note this time—she hadn’t seemed to share those sentiments this morning. She’d been shaken at first, then she’d almost seemed pissed. He shook his head. “I’d better not. I don’t want to make Kyn uncomfortable.” He leaned his elbow on the bar and set his beer down.

Jaci snatched it and looped her arm through his, giving him a tug. “Actually, she said she might give you a call. She wants to talk to you about something she found in that cave of yours.”

She’d found something in the cave? She’d denied it when Buck asked. Chance’s interest was piqued. And if she was going to call him, anyway… “But I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Neither have we. We’ve just ordered appetizers and pizza. C’mon.”

Chance allowed Jaci to pull him through the door. If Kyndal seemed distraught about seeing him again, he could blame her friend for dragging him over.

“Lookee here who I found in the bar.” Jaci’s words drew Kyndal’s attention.

Chance read the shock that registered in her eyes, followed by daggers aimed at Jaci. A flush spread across her face so quickly it couldn’t have been from the fire’s proximity. Whether that was a good sign or a bad one, he couldn’t be sure. Finally, a cool smile settled on her lips.

“Chance. How weird is this?” Her eyebrows drew together in question when she returned her gaze to Jaci. Probably thinking she’d been set up.

“I never expected to see you here, either.” Chance waved away the conspiracy theory. “You told me you were going home.” He shook hands with Bart, who was smiling as if he was thoroughly enjoying the drama. “How’s the uranium enrichment business, Bart?”

Bart laughed. “When we let go, check your palm. If it’s not glowing, I’ll make it to my shift Monday.”

Jaci wore her cat-who-ate-the-canary smile as she sat down next to her husband, leaving the chair next to Kyndal available. Chance made no move to sit. If Kyndal wanted him there, she’d have to invite him. And, if she didn’t, he’d make an excuse and mosey back to the bar.

Jaci handed over his beer, and he took another sip to cover the awkward silence.

“So I guess that time to catch up came sooner than we thought.” Kyndal’s smile was tight as she pulled out the chair and patted the seat. “Here. Sit down.” Her tone wasn’t ecstatic about seeing him again—but certainly friendlier than at Buck’s office. But then people weren’t usually at their best in Buck’s office.

Chance took the only relaxed gulp of beer he’d had since leaving the bar, but the downtime didn’t last long. When he sat, he found the space tighter than it looked. His right arm pressed against Kyndal’s left from shoulder to elbow. He started to scoot over some, but the contact felt pretty good—damn good, really. He’d just have to enjoy the friction that sent little bursts of heat through his sweater every time he raised his arm for a sip—and he’d make it a point to sip often.

“Wow, y’all. This is just like old times.” Jaci was almost squealing. The saucy redhead looked and sounded the part of mischievous imp. If nothing exciting was happening, she’d make it happen.

Chance was sure there was more to the comment, and he braced himself for what would come next.

“Except, when we leave, Bart and I will be together, and y’all will go off and be with other people. Seems weird, huh?”

So Kyndal had “other people.” Chance’s mouthful of beer tasted rather flat.

Kyndal’s arm flinched against his, and he felt her stiffen. “Jaci…” Her tone held a warning.

“Yeah, let’s not talk about that now.” Jaci signaled the waitress for another round of beer. “Private lives, politics and religion are officially off-limits tonight. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

Damn. Staying away from politics was a good idea if he and Kyn were going to try to remain civil, but he’d like to hear about this relationship just to satisfy his curiosity. Maybe he could ease into it from a different angle. “How’s your mom, Kyn?”

“She’s fine.” She picked the corner of the label loose from her bottle. “Your parents?”

“They’re okay. In fact, they leave in the morning for the first trip they’ve taken together since Hank—” He stopped and an emotional silence fell over the group.

Kyndal cleared her throat and raised her beer over the middle of the table, but her eyes fixed on his. “Here’s to letting go of old hurts.”

He doubted total forgiveness was a toast away, but maybe this was a start. As they clinked their bottles together, everybody seemed to relax.

“You know, Chance, you’re lucky I showed up when I did.” Jaci pointed at the bartender as she let Bart and Kyndal in on the joke. “Tripp was seriously considering Chance’s marriage proposal.”

“Don’t sell your soul for liquor.” Bart nuzzled Jaci’s hair playfully. “Hold out for home-cooked meals and wild sex—in that order.”

They all laughed together, and for the first time since he’d sat down, Chance felt as if it really was like old times.

A plate of cheese-stuffed potato cakes showed up and gave everybody an opportunity to focus on food rather than conversation. Chance glanced at Kyndal’s hand as she passed the plate. No ring, so she wasn’t engaged. Chance relaxed even more and gave himself permission not to analyze why.

“Hey, Kyn.” Jaci’s wide-eyed expression was the picture of innocence. “I told Chance you were going to call him about what you found in the cave.”

Kyndal choked on her potato cake.

Chance patted her between the shoulder blades. “You okay?”

She coughed a couple of times, cleared her throat and nodded. “Yeah.” She smiled, and for a brief moment he was lost in the watery depths of those green eyes. She cleared her throat again. “Really. I’m okay.”

She gave a tug that made him realize he had a firm grasp on her arm with his left hand, and the pats on her back had morphed into soft rubs. His grasp nearly circumvented her arm. Though not very big around, he could feel the taut muscles underneath and the strength in them. Reluctantly, he let go and shifted his attention from the feel of her under his hands to what she found in the cave.

She chewed her lip before speaking. “I found a small room made completely of crystals.”

“Crystals?” It wasn’t the type of news he’d expected, and he had to let the information sink in.

“Yeah, crystals. Walls, floor, ceiling. Everything was white, shiny crystals.”

Chance stared into his beer, searching his memory. “I’ve heard of that before. What’s it called?” He waved his hand, trying to reel the word out of his memory. “It’s a bubble left over after volcanic activity…a vot…a vut…no, a vug! That’s what it’s called. A vug. It’s sort of like a big geode.”

“That’s exactly what it looked like!” Kyndal’s excitement drew his gaze. The firelight danced in her eyes, made them emeralds.

The bottle was at his lips, but his breath caught. He set it down without taking a sip. “Where is it? I can’t believe I’ve never seen it.”

Between bites, Kyndal explained she’d been looking for interesting shots when a sandstone column caught her attention.

Chance nodded, picturing which room she was in. He’d seen the column. Bats were in that room sometimes, so he generally avoided it, but right then he wished he were there. With Kyndal.

A bit of cheese from her last bite of potato cake clung to her bottom lip. He controlled the urge to brush it off with his thumb. Or nibble it off.

Luckily the pizza arrived, giving him something to think about other than being alone in the cave with the mesmerizing woman sitting next to him…the liberal environmentalist who’d recently been involved in a scandal sitting next to him.

“Well, the opening is about seven feet up.” Kyndal helped herself to a slice of pizza, which remained untouched as she continued her story. “It’s on the right-hand side when you first enter that room. I wouldn’t even have noticed it if I hadn’t knocked my lamp over. The crystal wall caught the light.”

“Serendipity at work, eh?” Chance chuckled. “Did you see any bats?”

“Bats? Ewww!” Jaci’s squeal made Chance aware there were two other people at the table. He’d been enthralled in Kyndal’s story, or at least in watching her tell it. All breathless and excited. The same way she used to be when they made love.

The memory shot straight to his groin and left him with a raging hard-on. That kind of urgency hadn’t happened lately. It was a bit of a relief to know it could still happen. He shifted in his seat to relieve some of the pressure.

Kyndal was explaining to Jaci and Bart about the beauty of bats and photographing all aspects of nature. God, she was gorgeous with her conviction shining in her eyes. Too bad that conviction wasn’t focused in a more productive direction.

Reaching for another piece of pizza, his gaze tangled with Kyndal’s for a moment, and he watched her eyes harden as if she’d read his thoughts. Or maybe she’d covered it well until that moment but obviously still harbored resentment toward him. He lowered his eyes and took a bite. Guilt didn’t mix well with pepperoni.

Yeah, he probably deserved her anger. Breaking up without ever calling to check on her was a chicken-shit thing to do. Especially after all they’d been to each other. But, damn it, the women he’d encountered at Harvard had been so sophisticated and ambitious. None of them would’ve given up their dream of being a lawyer to pursue photography.

He chewed slowly, an idea forming in his mind. A way to help her out now and make up for the heartache he’d brought her…maybe even rid himself of the guilt he’d carried for nine years.

He waited for a pause in the conversation. “Would you like to go back to the cave tomorrow?”

Kyndal’s look went from startled to something unreadable.

The issue suddenly became important to him, and he pressed for an answer. “Jaci said you’re staying over, right? It wouldn’t take long. You could show me the vug and get some more shots. We could all go.” He waved his hand to include the four of them.

“Don’t count us in.” Jaci shook her head at Bart, whose mouth was pursed to comment. “I’ve got to work tomorrow after church.”

“On Sunday?” Doubt was evident in Kyndal’s voice.

Jaci’s face tightened as she shrugged. “We’re behind because of Julia’s—” she hesitated “—um, surgery.”

The mention again of Julia Reinholt’s condition nipped at Chance’s heart. Had Jaci heard the other rumors—the ones that linked Julia’s husband, Stuart, with a young waitress in town? The son of a bitch. Chance kept his thoughts to himself.

Remembering what had veered the conversation in this direction, though, and trying to lighten the mood, he turned back to Kyndal. “So Jaci and Bart are out, but what do you say, Kyn? Do we have a date?”

CHAPTER FIVE

KYNDALCHECKEDTHEMAP Chance had drawn for her the night before. His driveway should be coming up around the next bend. For the gazillionth time that morning, she told herself going back to the cave with Chance was not tempting fate—it was shaping destiny. The shots of that crystal room would get her the job with the magazine, give her back her good name and prove to Chance Brennan she really was somebody, after all. So those shots were worth whatever the cost. An hour or two of emotional discomfort seemed reasonable enough.

She’d survived last night, hadn’t she?

Seeing the success he’d become juxtaposed with her failures dredged up old insecurities with a vengeance, and pushed this job higher on her necessity scale than just a means to a steady paycheck.

Adding to that misery was her realization that, in spite of the animosity between them, Chance Brennan still had an effect on her mentally and physically—an over-the-top effect.

Yesterday in the sheriff’s office, she’d had some freedom to move around. But, last night at Max’s, she’d been trapped for three hours in the torture of his occasional touch. Keeping a safe distance today was her only hope of coming out of this with pride and dignity intact.

Jaci had been adamant the strategy-of-choice today was to be an outrageous flirt, talk incessantly about Rick Warren and make it sound like they were a hot item, then leave without a backward glance. And Jaci could probably pull that off. Flirting came as natural as eating for her.

Kyndal, on the other hand, had been unable to finish a piece of pizza or a breakfast roll since Chance made his suggestion to go back to the cave. If eating didn’t come naturally, where did that leave flirting?

She unclenched her jaw. Decision made. Strategy set. No flirting. No Rick discussion. No way. No how. Friendly—but distant. All business. Casual business. And above all, no touching.

Two reflectors and a mailbox with the numbers 343 stenciled on the side signaled Chance’s driveway. She quelled the trembling in her hands by gripping the steering wheel. The long gravel path meandered uphill through the woods, which were ablaze in the fiery reds and yellows of maples and wild dogwoods. In the spring, it would be a fairyland of creamy-white blooms—a stunning shot she quickly pushed from her mind. No returning to this place after today. Blooming dogwoods could be found anywhere in Kentucky come spring.

The chimney, followed by a roof and the second story of a charming old farmhouse rose into sight as she approached the summit of the hill. Its fresh coat of white paint stood out against the fall colors, yet it didn’t look at all out of place. The trees surrounding the house had grown tall, and their branches spread shade across it like protective arms. They’d obviously been there a long time—living proof some things were meant to be together.

A porch wrapped around the front and side of the house, inviting with its cushioned wicker chairs and couches and a swing at one end.

She squeezed the steering wheel a bit more tightly when she spotted Chance waving a folded newspaper in welcome. No doubt about it—he looked as good in person as he had last night in her dreams.

Idiotic dreams!

A chocolate Lab jumped from the front porch and ran to meet her, carrying a Frisbee and wagging its tail.

Kyndal brought the car to a slower-than-necessary stop, hoping it appeared she was careful rather than stalling. “Today will bring the perfect shot that will make me somebody. No flirting. No touching,” she whispered, plastering on her most confident smile.

As soon as she stepped from the car, the Frisbee was offered at her feet. She laughed and picked it up, much to the delight of the dog whose tail wagged vehement approval. The Lab shot after the spinning disc the second it left her hand, stretching and jumping to bring it down from midflight.

Kyndal clapped in praise.

“You’ll be sorry you did that.” Chance’s voice startled her with its nearness. She turned to find him only a foot away, a cup of coffee poised at his lips.

She shifted her weight and took a step back, holding her palms out to check them for mud. “Why will I be sorry?” The gesture gave her a couple of seconds to examine the striking form in front of her—something she hadn’t really had the opportunity to do the day before.

The day was warm enough that they’d both chosen

T-shirts. His black one stretched across his chest, showing the outline of very pronounced pectorals, hidden the day before under his sweater. He’d been put together nicely during high school, but he’d never had biceps like these, threatening to burst the seams of his sleeves.

As she put her hands down, her eyes drifted up to his face. Boyish charm had been replaced by rugged sensuousness. Coarse stubble filled the lower half of his face—another change since high school. Back then, he’d fretted he’d never be able to grow a beard. Didn’t seem to be an issue now.

In answer to her question, he nodded to her feet where the Frisbee lay again and a pair of hopeful eyes beamed from a chocolate snout. “Because Chesney doesn’t know when to stop. She’ll chase and fetch as long as you’ll throw.”

Chance’s closeness brought the tangy smell of Irish Spring soap to her nose. The scent chased her memory across nine years to a morning when his parents left early, and she’d gone to his house before school. They’d showered together, making love standing up, enveloped in warm water and Irish Spring-scented steam.

She grabbed the Frisbee and tossed the memory away with it. “One more and that’ll have to hold us.”

“I was afraid you’d stand me up.” The corners of Chance’s mouth lifted as he took another sip of his coffee.

He wouldn’t be grinning if he knew how many times that thought had crossed her mind since last night.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” she lied. She covered her guilt by a quick look around. “You have a beautiful place. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over a year. I’ve still got a lot to do.” He motioned toward the three-car, detached garage where a row of window shutters leaned against the side in various stages of being painted forest-green. “But it’s coming. Would you like to see the inside?”

The eagerness in his voice made Kyndal swallow the refusal on her tongue and nod an okay instead. She’d have a home of her own someday to show off, so it was easy to understand his pride.

He led the way up the side steps into a spacious country kitchen with glossy hardwood floors, white marble countertops and black cabinetry.

“This is gorgeous.” Kyndal nodded her approval at the stainless appliances and hardware brushed to look like pewter. “You’re quite a decorator.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take much credit. When I first began looking at the place, I started buying designing magazines and clipping pictures. Luckily, I found a contractor with some vision.”

The smell of fresh coffee against a backdrop of cinnamon made Kyndal’s stomach growl fiercely.

His eyebrows drew in with concern. “Are you hungry?”

She didn’t think her stomach would agree to food yet although the smell was tempting. She shook her head.

“How about some coffee?”

“Mmm. It smells wonderful, but I’d better not unless you’ve had a bathroom installed in that cave.” She laughed, letting go of some nervousness but reminding herself not to tilt her head sideways because that might be construed as flirting.

The tour went quickly since most of the walls had been knocked down, forming an enormous great room with strategically placed columns where support was needed. The room was warm with leather furniture the color of molasses and a fireplace crackling at one end. Chance silenced it with a remote. “Gas,” he explained to her surprised expression. “It felt good early this morning before I went outside, but we sure don’t need it now.”