A Little Bit of Déjà Vu (43 page)

Her child screamed hysterically and squirmed like a worm on a hook as the stranger stretched to reach him. Tommy’s frantic twisting wiggled his foot loose from his sneaker, and he fell into the man’s arms, sobbing.

“Shhh—you’re okay, I’ve got you.” He rubbed Tommy’s back while her son, in turn, strangled the man, burying his face in the guy’s broad shoulder.

A breath of relief rushed out of her. “Thank God, you caught him.”

Watching the fellow console her child made her throat ache. He gently inspected Tommy’s ankle. “Just a little scrape. Nothing to cry about, right, Buddy?”

Her child’s tears instantly subsided, and the stranger set him down. She grabbed Tommy and squeezed him to her chest. “How many times have I told you to stay out of that tree?”

“That’s like telling a monkey not to climb.” The man snorted, hoisting himself up on the lower branch to retrieve Tommy’s sneaker. “That’s what little boys do. You might want to get them a jungle gym set.”

“We got one.” Royce grabbed the fellow’s hand and tugged him toward the yard. “You wanna see it?”

“Royce, remember our talk about strangers?” Abby reminded the child.

“But he’s our friend.” Tommy sniffled and wiggled his foot into his sneaker, flashing his toothless grin at the man. “Right?”

She did a double take at her painfully shy son who rarely spoke to anyone but her and Royce—and certainly not someone he’d never met before. Still, the man
had
saved her child’s life, which apparently made Tommy comfortable with him. But even though that might be a commendable act, the kids needed to understand that was no reason to invite a person they didn’t know into their backyard. “Oh, really? So what’s your friend’s name?”

The boys stuck their lips out in thoughtful pouts and looked at each other. Royce crinkled his brow and gazed up at the tall man. “What
is
your name, Mister?”

When he didn’t answer, Abby peered into the stranger’s eyes. They seemed oddly familiar. He stared right through her as if he were in a hypnotic trance, prompting her to wave her hand in front of him. “Hey? Anybody home?”

The man flinched. “Huh?”

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. It’s Mac. Paul McCartney.”

“I suppose you’re pretty tired of people asking when the Beatles are getting back together, huh?”

His jaw hung open for a moment. “The Beatles broke up?”

“Uhh....
yeah
. Like almost three years ago. You of all people should know that since you have the same name as one of them.

“That’s why I go by Mac. I’ve been a little out of touch the last few years. I was passing by and noticed you need some help. I could cut the lawn for you. I’ll work cheap. A hot meal would be enough.”

He looked awfully thin and hungry—as if he’d been sick. His neatly trimmed beard made him seem decent enough. The silver sprinkled through his hair gave him a distinguished appearance, and apart from being too thin, he was good looking in a rugged sort of way. After what he’d done for Tommy, she felt obligated to help.

“I just got back from ‘Nam, and I haven’t found a job, yet,” he explained.

“I was under the impression the army didn’t allow beards.” Her brother had told her it was because facial hair interfered with sealing a gas mask against the skin.

“Well, I haven’t been on active duty in a long time. I was just released from the veteran’s hospital today.” He gestured to a duffel bag she hadn’t noticed at the edge of her lawn.

That explained the lack of meat on his bones.

“What do you say? I could really use the work.”

She stiffened at his persuasive tone and the expression that reminded her so much of her late husband. The man’s pleading gaze bored into her heart. She really did owe him. Other than spacing out on her, Mac didn’t seem particularly dangerous.

Then again, weren’t most serial killers average, white males in their mid to late thirties? Bingo! This guy won on all three counts.

~~~

Matt never considered his wife might not recognize him. Why that should surprise him, he couldn’t say. Especially seeing as not one person at the hospital had been able to identify his induction picture as him. The timbre of his voice had probably matured with the rest of him.

In a way, it was a stroke of luck. He didn’t like deceiving Abby, but he also didn’t want to tell her who he was until he was sure they could care for each other again. He hated the idea of his wife staying with him out of obligation or pity.

Even though she might be furious when she learned he was her husband, she would thank him in the end. He wasn’t the same man she’d married, and maintaining his anonymity ensured she would listen to her heart and make an unbiased choice between him and her boyfriend.

Her lip-gnawing suggested it made her nervous to have a stranger working around her house. The abuse puffed her mouth up, making her look even sexier and more vulnerable.

“I understand your reluctance to hire someone you don’t know. After all, you have the boys to think about.”

“I’m pretty transparent, huh?” Her thick lashes lowered over cheeks that blushed a beautiful shade of pink. “I suppose you can cut my grass.”

He caught a whiff of buttery popcorn on her breath. Oddly enough, the mouthwatering aroma gave him a strange ache in his chest and made him hunger for a taste of her rather than the salty snack.

The kids followed them to the driveway, and Abby swept her hand toward the rear yard. “Why don’t you two go play in the back while Mac mows the front lawn?”

“But we wanna help.” Tommy sidled up to Matt’s side.

Matt hunkered down between the boys. “I know you do, Buddy. But it’s not safe to get too close to the lawnmower while it’s running.” He ruffled both boys’ hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you guys after I’m done.”

“You have a way with kids,” Abby said, watching Tommy race Royce into the backyard.

“They’re great. God willing, I’d like at least four of my own someday.” As he checked the machine for fuel, for some unknown reason, the acrid fumes made his heart rate gallop. He swallowed back the panic and the bitter taste of bile that rose in his throat. “It just needs some gas.”

“
Duh
.” She slapped her forehead. “Too bad they don’t hand out awards for stupidity.” She retrieved a gas can from the attached two-car garage.

He knelt to fill the tank, and a flash of reflected light drew his gaze to her left hand.

Damn. His wife wasn’t just involved. She was
engaged
. Closing his eyes, he sent up a silent prayer.
Please don’t let her be marrying that jerk anytime soon
.

“You should let your hubby know the oil needs to be changed,” he threw out as bait, hoping to reel in a few answers.

“Well, that’s sort of hard since I don’t have one.”

He motioned toward the huge diamond she wore. “You’re engaged, though?”

“Uh-huh. Robert and I are getting married in six weeks.”

Robert....hmm? The guy had looked like a stuffed shirt. A wedding in only a month and a half didn’t give Matt much time to convince Abby she wanted him instead of Mr. Mercedes.

Venting his frustration, he yanked the pull-start on the lawnmower harder than necessary. As the machine roared to life, Abby hollered over the engine, “When you’re done, knock on the back door. Dinner should be ready by then.”

Silently, he nodded and pushed the mower, watching his sexy wife stroll to the door. He shifted uneasily in his jeans as the gentle sway of her rounded behind turned his semi-aroused flesh into a heat-seeking missile.

Damn—if she wasn’t hotter than a sunny patch of asphalt in July.

The only thing his fellow prisoners and he had been able to talk about all the way home was what they wanted to eat first and getting into bed with a soft, sweet smelling female. Spending so many years without setting eyes on a pair of breasts or breathing the feminine scent of a woman had left all the guys feeling like bucks in rutting season.

His whole dilemma about Abby would be settled in a heartbeat if his only concern was whether he wanted to hop in the sack with her. That was an unequivocal certainty. But a marriage based on lust couldn’t help but fail. Fortunately, from what he’d seen so far, the woman he’d married seemed to have a great personality in addition to a pretty face and knockout figure.

Having been declared dead, he had no idea if they were still legally bound or not, so his silence could have more ramifications than he’d originally anticipated. The Army would be contacting her soon, so there was no chance of her unknowingly committing bigamy.

In any case, he still felt bad about deceiving her and allowing her to continue making wedding plans she would no doubt have to change if they were truly still married.

Before he spoke up, though, he would give himself a couple of weeks to become reacquainted with her. He needed time to find out if Abby could love
him
—the man who’d come home—instead of the boy who’d gone away.

~~~

Abby sank into her sewing-table chair to work on Helen Dalton’s alterations, keeping one eye on the boys through the window. She smiled at their antics while they climbed on the swing set like a couple of chimps.

The kids’ eagerness for Mac’s
male
attention had affirmed her decision to marry Robert. Unfortunately, her body’s response to the lanky stranger had done the exact opposite.

He’d smelled so good, unlike any commercial fragrance. He had the clean, natural male scent that reminded her so much of Matt—minus the odor of tobacco smoke that had always clung to his clothes. Maybe that was why Mac affected her so powerfully. She hadn’t felt this intense attraction to a man since she’d lost Matt.

If it weren’t for all the nights she woke up throbbing with need from dreams of making love with her husband, she would swear she’d lost the ability to become aroused along with her uterus.

She really didn’t want to spend the rest of her life as a single mother, doing everything herself. Rob was a good-looking, personable, successful man, and they had a lot in common. But most importantly, unlike the majority of the men she’d dated, he didn’t care that she couldn’t give him children.

In the eighth month of her pregnancy, she’d gone into premature labor. During an emergency C-section, she’d hemorrhaged, and the doctors had been forced to do a partial hysterectomy to save her life.

Rob was probably right about her relationships. If she’d been willing to jump into bed, some of her previous dates would’ve most likely hung around longer. But she wanted a husband, not just a lover. So what good would it have done to go to bed with a man who might walk away later after he learned her bitter truth?

Since she didn’t believe it was fair to let a man get involved without giving him all the facts, she’d never dated a guy for long before telling him her tragic story. Invariably, all her relationships had ended within a week or two of sharing her heartbreak—except with Rob. He wanted her just the way she was. He’d been extremely patient and understanding—until several nights ago when he’d left her little choice but to accept his proposal.

As the waiter removed the broiled scallops she’d barely touched, Robert’s deep voice had startled her. “Well, Honey? Should I order champagne? Or am I inviting Johnny Walker home with me?”

Her eyes welled with tears as she absently traced the tablecloth’s pattern with her finger.

“I’m sorry to pressure you like this, Abby.” He covered her hand with his. “But if you won’t marry me, I need to start looking for someone else.”

She loved Robert....
like a brother
. And he loved her unconditionally. She didn’t want him to vanish from her life. But it wasn’t fair to continue leading him on.

Her chest shuddering, she heaved a resigned sigh and nodded. “Okay, Rob, I’d be honored to be your wife.”

He smiled and dug a velvet box out of his pocket. “I’ve had this for almost a year.”

The fingers on her left hand instinctively closed in a fist, protecting the wedding and engagement rings Matt had given her. She forced her hand to relax so Rob could remove her rings and replace them with his huge glittering diamond. The cool white platinum failed to ease the chill that removing the symbol of Matt’s love left in her, and she shivered.

“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to finally see this on your hand.”

Tears rolling down her cheeks, she gazed at the two rings he placed in her palm. The pain of losing Matt hurt like a fresh wound. She swiped at her face and sniffled. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t think your ring is beautiful. It’s just replacing Matt’s with yours has suddenly made his death real to me.”

“I know it hurts.” He reached across the table and stroked her cheek. “But it’s long past time for you to let go of him. Why don’t you call your brother and ask him to stay the night with the boys. I’ll get a suite for us upstairs in the inn.”

Her stomach plummeted like a runaway elevator. “I know I’ve been totally unfair to you, Rob, and you’re right about me making excuses. But could we wait just a bit longer?”

“Abby, I’ve
been
waiting. I want to take the woman I love to bed, damn it. We’re getting married. Don’t you think it’s about time?”

She slid Matt’s rings on her right hand to keep them safe. “I’m sorry, but can I please have a little longer?”

“How much longer?”

“Is a month or two too much to ask? I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I feel like Matt died tonight. The pain of it is....” She sobbed into her hands. “I’ve been deluding myself for so long that somehow the army made a mistake and he’d come home to me one day. I just can’t sleep with you feeling this way. The hurt’s too fresh. I need time to grieve.”

“Okay.” Rob pursed his lips. “If you can pull together a wedding in six weeks, I’ll wait until then. So start planning.”

No one understood how she felt. Her brother believed Matt had only married her because he’d gotten her pregnant. Her late mother had insisted Abby had simply suffered from a schoolgirl crush on a bad boy.

But Matt’s reputation for having the fastest zipper in New Jersey wasn’t why she’d fallen for him. In fact, it had only made her less eager to get involved.