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He rolled down his window and waved his hand in the cool night air, wishing he and Christy had moved here that one year they’d briefly considered it. They’d been newly married, just out of college and not quite settled yet. But after growing up in Minnesota, Preston was in no hurry to deal with more snowy winters. While attending UC Berkeley, he’d grown comfortable in the Bay Area. And Christy was originally from San José, so she wanted to be near her family. They’d decided to stay in California, where Preston was hired on at Ebert & Cummings. The year after that, he was named Rookie of the Year and Dallas was born. Three years later he’d made his first million, and he and Christy had moved into a lovely home in Half Moon Bay. They had a good marriage, a child they adored, more success than they’d ever anticipated. Life couldn’t have been better.
Six months after that, the Wendells had moved in only three doors down.
Regret bit deeply as Preston rolled up his window. If only he’d insisted on that move to Utah…
Interstate 80 turned into a major freeway, which soon offered Preston several exits. He took 600 South. He and Christy used to stay in Park City, but that was an hour away in the wrong direction. Tonight, he headed into downtown Salt Lake in search of a hotel.
He was immediately presented with several to choose from.
Turning left on West Temple, he stopped at the Hilton and left Emma and Max sleeping in the van while he went to the front desk. He didn’t see any point in making her pay for a separate room. He was the one who’d chosen a hotel that was, no doubt, out of her price range, and they’d already shared a room once. He supposed another night or two in close company wasn’t going to matter.
After checking in, he returned to the van to find that neither Max nor Emma had awakened.
Preston watched her sleep. How had it come to this? Just a few days ago, he was completely on his own without so much as a dog to look after. Now he had a woman and a child traveling with him.
Remembering how she’d staggered beneath her son’s weight at Maude’s Cozy Comfort Bungalows, he cursed softly. She’d never be able to lift Max right now, not without spending several minutes waking up and gathering her strength.
He swung his duffel bag over one shoulder, released Max’s seat belt and lifted the boy into his arms.
As Max settled against his chest, a powerful yearning nearly brought tears to his eyes. The soft, boneless feel of the child’s body, even the smell of good old-fashioned dirt in his hair and on his clothes, made Preston curve his other arm around to hold him close. God, he felt good. His weight was just right, nearly the same as Dallas’s.
Preston buried his face in Max’s neck. I miss you, Dallas. I miss the messes you used to make, the food you used to waste, the loud cartoons that used to get on my nerves when I was trying to talk on the phone, the baseballs and soccer balls and basketballs all over the house—
The van door creaked. Mortified to be caught at such a vulnerable moment, Preston jerked his head up. Emma was blinking at him, but she didn’t act as though she’d seen him hugging her child. She was too busy struggling to get her bearings. “I—I didn’t realize we’d stopped. Are we in Salt Lake?”
“Yes.” He held her son farther away in an effort to stem the powerful emotions surging through him.
She stumbled out of the van and squinted at the building looming behind them. “This is…”
“A hotel,” he supplied.
“It’s the Hilton.”
“That’s right.”
He expected her to say something about the cost of staying here, but she bit her lip instead.
Despite his irritation with the whole unfortunate situation, Preston found himself smiling. He couldn’t believe he’d ended up in the middle of such a mess, that he’d walked away once and come back, that he was standing here carrying her kid so she wouldn’t have to. But he had to admit she had the kind of face that could make a man do almost anything. And she had an elusive, beguiling innocence about her. No wonder Manuel was chasing her and Max all over Nevada.
She looked momentarily confused by his expression, but gave him a brief smile in return. Then she seemed to recognize that they had no reason to be staring at each other and glanced away.
“Okay, let me get a room,” she said. “I’ll take him in a minute so you can go.”
“I’ve already paid for the room.”
“I see. Well, that was nice of you. I’ll pay you back.”
“Just grab your purse and my laptop. I’ve already got my duffel bag.”
Her sleepiness seemed to fall away as she riveted her eyes to his. “Your duffel bag? Your laptop?”
“I’m taking you and Max with me to Iowa,” he said, and strode off ahead of her.
EMMA FELT GOOD for the first time in a long while. This classy hotel room was more the type of place she was accustomed to staying in. And although he was out of fresh laundry, Preston had lent her the T-shirt he’d worn today, along with the boxers she’d slept in last night, so she was temporarily rid of the pinching elastic of her swimsuit. Max’s glucose levels were fine; he was sleeping soundly. Preston was in the opposite bed, only an arm’s length away. And much as she didn’t want to admit it, she liked being with him. He made her dream of escaping Manuel a stronger possibility. But that wasn’t all. When she remembered the way he’d kissed her—or even smelled his scent on the T-shirt that had still been warm from his body when she pulled it on—she felt a riot of butterflies in her stomach. She’d never experienced anything remotely similar. Which meant she had to be careful not to get herself into another bad situation. She already knew Preston wasn’t anything like Manuel, but he had his own issues, especially where Max was concerned.
After another ten or fifteen minutes, she realized she couldn’t go back to sleep. She forced herself to try a little longer. She had no idea what was in store for them tomorrow. But now that she was awake, she’d started thinking about Juanita. What had Manuel done with her? Had Rosa heard anything?
Preston had rented a suite, with a bedroom on one side and a small kitchen and living area on the other. Slipping out of bed, she moved as silently as possible through the adjoining door and closed it softly behind her. Then she settled herself on the couch and picked up the phone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SOMETHING PULLED Preston from sleep; he wasn’t sure what. A restless night wasn’t unusual. He always spent long hours thinking about Vince. But for now, he fought to keep the memories, and the emotions those memories evoked, at bay. He’d find the bastard. Soon. No need to rob himself of the few hours of sleep he’d been hoping to get.
