Until I Found You (15 page)

As badly as Kate wanted to leave, she schooled her thoughts into a quick analysis of what Eve had shown to her and described. “What do you think of tying beauty and aging together? The spas already appeal to younger women. Why not target women who are a little older?”

Eve nodded approvingly. “We really do think alike. That’s exactly what I had in mind when I selected these grand old buildings. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m starting my own line of antiaging products.”

“We’re definitely on the same page.” Kate leapt to her feet. “I really do need to leave. I’ll e-mail if I have questions.”

Eve stood next to her. “Thank you, Kate. I hope you make it back to Meadows before the storm.”

“So do I.” She softened the words with a smile and raced to the library.

Nick saw her, tossed aside a magazine, and shot to his feet. Side by side, they raced to the truck. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders to shield her from the rain, but her insides were quaking with a nauseating mix of fear for Leona and anger at Eve. The instant she dropped down on the seat, she pressed her cold hands against her heated cheeks, but her pulse raced even faster.

“Leona shouldn’t be alone,” she complained as Nick started the truck. “I can’t believe I let this happen. I should have walked out. I should have—”

“I-5 is still open, but it’s going to be tight.” He steered through the open gate, turned on the radio for weather updates, and headed for the freeway.

Warmed by the heat spilling from the vents, she stole a glance at the determined set of Nick’s jaw. A warm glow swelled in her chest, and she gave silent thanks for this strong, steady man
merging through traffic with the precision of a fighter pilot. She could have managed on her own, but Nick made today a thousand times easier. She liked having a friend . . . a partner. Dare she admit it? She liked being a passenger for a change.

A lump pushed into her throat, one that tasted of yearning. Eve had told her to go after what she wanted, but what Kate wanted wasn’t something a person could touch or see or smell. She wanted to love and be loved, to care for people the way Nick cared for her—with respect, kindness, and attention to the most tender details of life. The ache in her chest deepened, and she imagined a hole in her heart, one that Nick filled to perfection.

The thought terrified her, because she was dangerously close to falling in love with him—to needing him. But what then? How could she manage the kaleidoscope of her life when the pieces were jagged, sharp, and constantly shifting? Tense and wary, she stared out the rain-streaked windshield, barely listening as the traffic reporter announced that I-5 was expected to close within the hour.

“Oh no,” she said, her voice shaking. “Will we make it?”

“We’re sure going to try.” He pressed the gas pedal a little harder, and the truck surged past another vehicle.

The traffic was heavy but racing at full speed. Clutching her phone, she called Leona for an update. “What’s happening?”

“Lots of Shnow. Shtay in L.A.”

“No way.”

“I’m fine—”

“Did you call Dody?”

Silence.

“Nonnie—call her.
Please
. I worry about you.”

“I’m fine, shweetheart.”

Kate chewed her lip in a fit of indecision. Leona wasn’t a child. She had the right to make choices for herself, but what
did Kate do with the fear sawing on her already frayed nerves? She had to get to Meadows, both for Leona’s sake and her own peace of mind. If anyone could navigate the roads in a storm, it was Nick.

“All right,” she said to her grandmother. “But I’m coming home. We’re near Valencia. With a little luck, we’ll be there soon.”

She hung up with an “I love you” and tossed the phone in the console. They were just outside of Castaic, the staging area where the highway patrol formed lines of cars to be escorted over the snowy pass. She was hungry, angry, and mildly in need of a bathroom, but she didn’t dare ask Nick to stop at a service station. If they missed the final escort group, they’d be stuck in Castaic for hours, maybe a couple days. Nervous, she glanced at the gas gauge and saw half a tank—enough to get home even at a crawl.

Brake lights flashed in front of them. Groaning, Nick halted behind a semi and cut the engine. “This isn’t good.”

“What’s happening?”

“We’re waiting in the escort line, but there’s no guarantee the highway patrol will take another group over the summit. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Kate swallowed hard, tapped her toes, and watched the window fog with their breath. For twenty solid minutes they sat behind the idling semi, inhaling exhaust and staring at brake lights until the truck rolled forward.

“We’re in!” Nick declared as they passed the roadblock.

They rolled forward, slowly, then at a solid twenty miles an hour. Rain pounded the roof and windshield. Unconsciously Kate drummed her fingers on the armrest until Nick covered her hand with his larger one. “I want to caution you. If San Miguel Highway isn’t plowed, we’ll have to wait for the county to clear it.”

“Of course.” At least they’d be close to home.

Abruptly the rain stopped, plunging them into a silent world of snowflakes the size of teacups. The wipers kicked the clumps off the windshield, but snow lay thick on the pavement. It would be even thicker in San Miguel Canyon because of the higher altitude. When they reached the top of the pass and the Meadows exit, Nick pulled into a brightly lit gas station.

“Pit stop,” he said.

“Me, too.”

While he gassed up the truck, Kate hurried to the ladies’ room. When she came out, she saw Nick speaking to the clerk and joined them in time to learn that the snowplow had gone through ten minutes ago. With a little luck, they could follow it all the way to Meadows.

Nick grabbed her hand and they dashed back to his truck. The first five miles passed through a long, rolling valley. That part of the drive didn’t scare Kate at all, except tonight a fierce wind hurled snow at a horizontal angle and nearly blinded them. The freshly plowed road was already white.

On her own, she would have turned back. But Nick was perfectly relaxed as they veered on to San Miguel Highway. If he could make this drive without fear, so could she. Never mind the tension in her muscles and the blinding whiteness of the storm. One curve fed into another, dipping and rising with relative ease, until they reached a twisting U-shaped dip. Nick started down the slope at a careful ten miles an hour, building up momentum that he’d use to climb the approaching hill.

They were accelerating out of the bottom of the turn when taillights appeared in front of them. The whine of spinning tires shattered the quiet, but the sedan didn’t move, not even an inch, until it lost traction and started to slide backwards
and straight at them, picking up speed as the front end swung to the side.

“He’s going to hit us!” Kate cried.

Nick slammed the truck into Reverse and backed away. Their own tires broke loose, and they started to slide just like the car, faster and faster, picking up speed until the truck hit a snowbank and lurched—just like the BMW on the lip of the canyon.

Choking on a sob, Kate clamped her hands over her mouth.
Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Stay rational!

But the sedan was sliding straight at them, sideways and crooked until it coasted to a halt at the bottom of the dip. Instead of attempting another run up the hill, the driver headed back to the interstate, passing them with a wave of apology.

Still fighting tears, Kate hiccupped with a sob. “It wasn’t that bad. Not really. He wasn’t going that fast But I can’t—I can’t—”

Nick pulled her into his arms, held her, crooned to her. “We’re almost home. Hang on, okay?”

“I’m fine. Really I am. It’s just—” She could fight the tears but not the truth. She was terrified. Nestling closer, she clung to Nick with all her might.

N
ick held kate tight,
but his eyes stayed glued to the rearview mirror. The sedan was gone, but any minute another car could come along and lose control. He cradled her a moment longer, then kissed the top of her head. “We need to move.”

She managed a brave but unsteady smile. “I’m all right. It was just a-a reaction.”

He patted her shoulder, then started to rock the truck out of the snowbank. He had cat litter in the back if he needed to spread it to get traction, but the four-wheel drive did its job, and they were back on the road in a minute. They crested the hill without a single slip, but Kate couldn’t seem to breathe without gulping air. He drove slowly, offering reassurances as he steered around the hanging hairpin, then the last miles to Meadows, where total darkness indicated downed power lines and a mountain-wide outage.

Some of the streets had been plowed, but the road connecting Leona’s house to the main highway was still covered with snow. For once, Nick had no desire to make the first tracks. Kate had endured enough trauma for the day. She needed to
feel safe and warm, and there was only one place they could go—his house. His pulse thrummed with pleasure at the thought of being with her and taking care of her, but he’d also drawn thick lines to protect himself from those fiery darts of temptation.

Tonight, what mattered more? His personal peace of mind or Kate’s comfort? There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Kate’s needs came first. Men protected women; they fought for them and guarded their hearts and well-being. That’s what he’d do for Kate. As for his personal battle, he drew a new line for himself: No kissing and he’d sleep on the couch while she went upstairs.

Without asking her, he turned the truck around. “Leona’s street is too risky. We’ll go to my place.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, slumping weakly against the seat. “I can’t stand the thought of sliding again.”

He drove the plowed roads to his house, barreled through the snow covering his driveway, and parked close to the front door. “Wait here.”

With the headlights illuminating the way, he trotted up the steps, went inside, and propped up a flashlight to illuminate the path to the couch. What he was about to do was necessary, considering Kate’s short skirt and high heels, but it was also a little dangerous—the sort of thing that made them male and female. When he returned to the truck, her door was open and she was seated at an angle, peering down and grimacing as she planted one foot in the snow. Before she could move the other one, he scooped her into his arms, lifting her as she instinctively clung to his neck.

“Stop!” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m too heavy.”

“No, you’re not.” Determined not to grunt—or worse, drop her—he carried her to the couch, where they landed in a tangle of knees and elbows. He extricated himself im
mediately and went outside to turn off the truck. Breathing in the cold, he reminded himself of his plan and vowed to stick to it. He wished he had a guest room, but she’d have to make do with his bedroom and a pair of his sweats to sleep in. He’d doze on the couch and tend the fire, a necessity with the power out and no other heat.

With his head clear, he went back inside where Kate was ending a call to Leona. Huddled on the couch, she set down the phone and hugged herself against the chill. He lifted an afghan off the recliner and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I’ll have a fire going in a minute.” He had set the logs in place this morning, a habit of his, so he struck a match and lit the kindling. Next he fetched the pillar candles he kept for emergencies, set them on the coffee table and lit the wicks. Straightening, he looked into Kate’s eyes from across the flames. Her tears had dried, but the stress of the day was evident in the tightness of her mouth.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No, but I’m still rattled.” Looking at him, she patted the sofa next to her. “Sit with me.”

He hesitated, then dropped down a foot away from her. Holding her would have been the most natural thing in the world. It was precisely what he wanted to do, but he had a brain as well as a body and a heart—and a soul. As long as she was safe and warm, his job was done. It was time to get back to normal, so he kept his distance. “I’m going to sleep on the couch. Why don’t you head upstairs? There are sweats in the bureau—second drawer down. Help yourself to anything—”

“Nick?” Her eyes were wide again and full of angst.

“Yes?”

“I’m tired, cold, and a little afraid.” Her gaze dipped to her lap and she sniffed. “Would you hold me? Just for a while?”

The candles bathed her profile in gold light, revealing all the things nature used to pull a man and woman together. Who would care if he held her close, or even if they slept on the couch in each other’s arms? As long as they didn’t cross a certain line, what was the big deal?

“Stay with me,” she said in that wobbly voice. “I don’t want to go upstairs alone. It’s dark and foreign, and . . . and I’ve had enough for one night.”

Hurting for her, he put his own needs aside and drew her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, took a deep breath, then sighed in a way that warmed his skin through his shirt . . . the skin over his heart . . . the heart pounding with a truth he wanted to avoid but couldn’t. He’d fallen in love with her—the head-over-heels, walk-on-hot-coals, talk-all-night kind of love. He was a Christian, but he was also a man who experienced temptation in all its glory. He fought the desire to kiss her with a silent cry to God, felt himself slipping, and knew he had to put air between himself and Kate before he stumbled.

He loosened his arms and slid a foot away. “You’ll be more comfortable upstairs. Take the flashlight.”

“I’d rather stay here.” The candles burned with hot white light, illuminating her face and the loose hair brushing her shoulders. “Could we just cuddle a bit? I completely respect your faith. I’d never do anything to—to bother you.”

She had to be kidding. Everything she did
bothered
him. Anger rushed through him—at himself for wanting so badly to stay and at Kate for not understanding why she needed to go upstairs alone. With his emotions boiling into a steamy mess, he cupped her face. “Kate. I can’t—”

“But why?”

His throat ached with the strain of everything—wanting her, denying himself, and loving her all at once. “Do you really
not
get it?”

“I guess I don’t.”

He tunneled his fingers through her hair, tilted her face to his, and stared into her eyes. The anger and frustration melted into emotions that scoured his heart clean and left him even more determined to be the man God called him to be. “This,” he murmured in a husky voice, “this is why I can’t stay with you.” His mouth found hers and he kissed her . . . tenderly . . . thoroughly. There were no questions in the kiss, only an answer. He had to leave because this kiss was meant to cherish her in a godly way, not tempt them beyond their ability to resist the pull of physical desire.

She kissed him back, clutching his shoulders and clinging to him, until he mustered the last of his strength and eased away with a final brush of their lips. “I’m going outside—”

“But it’s cold.”

“I’ll be fine.” He trailed his fingers down her cheek, stealing one last caress. “Now go upstairs. Please.”

She nodded but just barely. Determined to stay strong, he stood and offered his hand. When she didn’t take it, he kissed her forehead, put on his coat, and went outside to shovel snow from the deck, the driveway, all of Meadows if that’s what it took to protect Kate and himself from regrets.

The instant Nick closed the door, Kate buried her face in her hands. With her mind in an uproar, she relived every second of the kiss—the anticipation when Nick stared into her eyes, the awareness of what he intended, the control in his touch, and most of all the authority with which he ended it. The kiss was so full of Nick she had lost herself in it completely.

“No,” she murmured to the candles. “That’s not right.”

She wasn’t lost—she was found.

In Nick’s arms, she experienced a joining of hearts unlike anything she had felt in her life. A force like gravity had drawn them together, and it could only be stopped with an effort that ran counter to instinct. Joel wouldn’t have made that decision; neither did her first college boyfriend, the one to whom she’d given her virginity—willingly, yes, but with enough hesitation that she still felt vaguely used. A lump pushed into her throat, because somewhere low and deep she wished Nick had been the first, and she wanted more than anything to believe that marriage really could last a lifetime.

Eve would have laughed at the dream and called her naïve. Maybe she was, but by leaving after that single, careful, purposeful kiss, Nick had shown her how a strong man loved an equally strong woman.

Except Kate wasn’t strong. Not like Nick. She
tried
to be strong, but under the business suit and the professional tone, she was terrified of a world that didn’t make sense. She was tired of being a marble in a box, tired of struggling to be brave and in control. As for going with the flow, she was beginning to hate that phrase. What she wanted was stability.

And confidence.

And hope.

She wanted to live the way Nick did—with the courage to face life head-on, unswayed by impulse or fear. She wanted his faith in a power greater than herself, a loving father who would take care of her.

“God,” she whispered. “Are you real?”

Raising her head, she focused on the candles. The flames cast a small but steady glow, and she thought of Nick staring at a dying campfire on top of Mount Abel. Eyes wide, Kate waited for a sense of holiness or insignificance, a pinprick of God’s glory. Anything to tell her God was real. But she felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

The CEO of the Universe was out to lunch or not taking calls. She considered going outside to talk to Nick but dismissed the idea. The kiss was reverberating through every cell in her body. Staring at the candles, she saw just one alternative. If she couldn’t phone a friend like on that game show, she’d leave a voice mail for the CEO himself.

“Hello, God,” she said in a small voice. “It’s me, Kate Darby. We spoke a few days ago. I want to know if you’re real.”

She closed her eyes and waited. Nothing happened. She listened to the silence and smelled the candles, but there was no sense of a power greater than herself. There was nothing except an abiding sense of danger, because if God was real, her life would change the way Nick’s life had changed. The candles offered a vague comfort, but it wasn’t enough to slow her racing pulse. She wanted Nick. Since she couldn’t be with him, she settled for the next best thing—honoring his wishes by going upstairs alone and closing the door.

With the snow falling and night pressing against the windows, Leona carried the condor journal to the kitchen table and sat down with her pen. She loved Kate very much, but she missed quiet evenings alone, where the only sounds came from the creaking floor. She would have liked a fire, but she knew her limitations and didn’t try to lay kindling and logs. Instead, she bundled up in her heavy robe and sipped the hot tea she’d put in a thermal carafe before the power outage struck.