McKenna Homecoming Read online

  Chapter Three

  Leah busied herself with straightening the memory table, shifting pictures that didn’t need shifting and stacking yearbooks that didn’t need stacking. All the while, her heart beat a furious pace in her chest while the other couple hundred people in the room laughed and talked, unaware of the tension coiling in Leah’s gut.

  Her hand lit on a picture of Alec from high school. The football captain, mugging for the camera after a victory. She’d snapped the image herself. The photo captured Alec’s infectious grin, his devil-may-care attitude and the spontaneous spirit he inspired in everyone around him. At the time, she’d seen him as the yin to her yang.

  A mistake.

  When she’d talked to him earlier tonight, she’d expected to prove to herself that their high school fling had been nothing more than a couple of teenagers thinking they knew what love was. But the minute her hand had touched his chest, she knew she’d been fooling herself. Even now, she could still feel the solid planes of his torso beneath her palm, see the surprise in his blue eyes. And feel the response in her own body.

  She had missed him, more than she’d realized, and more than she’d expected.

  Why had she touched him? She should have kept her hands to herself instead of opening herself to dangerous memories and desires. But knowing that didn’t make the urge to touch him again go away.

  She turned and noticed him standing near the bar, talking to DeeDee Carter, one of the cheerleaders who had maintained both her figure and her perky attitude. A crowd of people surrounded them, the same kind of hangers-on that had always been attached to Alec, with his outgoing personality and capacity for entertainment. A flare of something Leah refused to call jealousy rose in her chest. She tapped the book spines into perfect alignment, but the action did nothing to soothe her, or prevent her gaze from sliding back to Alec and DeeDee. To him laughing at something she said, to the way she put a hand on his arm and gave him a smile.

  What did Leah care? She had no ties to Alec. No claim to his heart. He could date—or marry—anyone he wanted.

  Except he wasn’t married. She’d checked his ring finger. And cursed herself for being relieved.

  He looked up, caught her watching him, and sent her a grin. She spun away, fast, to the pictures. The DJ shifted the music from a fast-paced Usher song to a ballad by Michelle Branch.

  Leah’s heart stuttered. It had been their song, the one that summed up everything she’d ever felt about him, a song about holding on and letting go, and it sent a surge of memories through Leah. Of curving into Alec’s arm and letting the world disappear, of believing they could have it all, even as the very things she wanted were disappearing. A shiver chased down Leah’s back, and she knew before she even turned that Alec was there.

  “That’s our song,” he said from behind her.

  He remembered. That mattered more than she wanted to admit. She pivoted toward him and smiled. “I know.”

  “Let’s dance, Leah.”

  “I should—” She waved a vague hand at the neat, organized table.

  “It’s just one dance,” he said, leaning in and lowering his voice, “not a lifetime commitment.”

  So she took his hand and followed him out to the dance floor, and in that instant, she was eighteen again and looking toward a future that would never happen. To the days when the only thing on her agenda was going to college, pursuing that writing degree. The days before her father got cancer and called her, saying three simple words: I need you.

  So she’d hopped on a plane, giving up everything for the chance to finally have a connection with her absent father. She’d foolishly believed Alec would come with her, or at least join her, but he never had. And she’d left him behind, along with her romantic teenage dreams.

  But right now in Alec’s arms, her thoughts weren’t on the aftermath of their breakup, they were on those days before graduation, when this song had melted her heart and made her fall a little more for Alec each time she heard it. The others made room as Alec and Leah reached the floor. The raised brows and knowing grins told her people noticed the high-school sweethearts back together. Several people greeted Alec; his popularity hadn’t died over the years.

  One dance, Leah vowed. One dance and she’d get Alec out of her system once and for all. But as he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her closer, she realized it might take a lot longer than a single song to forget Alec McKenna.

  ***

  Alec hadn’t paused to think when the song had come on the sound system. He’d reacted. In the past, his impulsive nature had made for some bad choices, but as Leah stepped into his arms, he knew this time the choice had been a good one.

  Her perfume in high school had been a flirty scent, something with baby powder and vanilla, but the perfume she wore now was all woman, with dark, sexy undertones and notes of jasmine. She moved easily with him as they made a small circle on the parquet floor, while the song washed over the space between them and brought him back to long, hot nights ten years in the past.

  “How have you been, Leah?” he asked, trying again to find a smooth transition to the real reason he’d come. “I’ve wondered about you a hundred times since high school.”

  “I’ve been fine.” But she didn’t look at him when she said it, and a flush filled her cheeks, belying her words.

  Marty Maxwell danced by with his wife, leaning over to give Alec a grin. “Look at you, here five minutes and already got a beautiful woman in your arms.”

  “Hey, Marty. Good to see you.” The former receiver for the football team had gained a beer belly and lost a head of hair in the past decade. “Still running the sports program over in Somerville?”

  “You know it. And hey, if you ever want to come by, show the kids a few moves, I’d be glad to have you. Not often we get a star player coming by our field.”

  “Sure. I’ll give you a call.”

  He hadn’t touched a football in years, except for a few games of pick-up with his buddies after work. But the guys in this room still saw him as the captain of the team, the one who scored the points and the girls. Part of that was nice, but another part had Alec wondering if that was all anyone would ever see.

  “Guess you still have that magic touch,” Leah said.

  “Magic touch?”

  “The one that makes people flock to you like pigeons to bread crumbs.”

  He chuckled. “Am I the bread crumbs or the pigeon?”

  She gave him a noncommittal smile.

  “So, for ten years, you’ve just been

  fine? Nothing more to say about the past decade?” He grinned, but inside, the brush-off answer bothered him.

  “It’s a short song,” she said. “Too short for the full story.”

  She had tensed in his arms, telling him the subject was off-limits. He missed those days by the creek, when Leah had been an open book. And he knew this distance was all his fault.

  “We can keep on dancing,” he said. “The DJ’s here for four hours.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I can dance that long.”

  “Then I’ll dance and you can stand on my feet. Just like old times.”

  Leah mocked outrage. “I never stood on your feet.”

  “You did too. The first time we danced together. You don’t remember that?”

  “I remember prom. And the senior dance. And that terrible junior Christmas dance where everyone got food poisoning.”

  “You don’t remember the Valentine’s Party in Miss McCarthy’s class?”

  “Second grade? You weren’t in her class.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was in Mr. White’s class. But he got the flu and so the sub brought us over to Miss McCarthy’s room and—”

  “You got cake on Kylie Simpson’s dress and she started to cry.” As the memory returned, Leah’s eyes lit with laughter. “I remember now.”

  “So Miss McCarthy put on some music to distract us, and we started dancing around the room—”

  “Probabl
y because we all had a serious case of sugar high—”

  “And you were afraid you were going to get trampled by Bernie Watkins, so you asked if you could stand on my feet while I danced.”

  “I had totally forgotten about that.” She shook her head. “That dance didn’t last very long.”

  “I didn’t have very strong feet.” He stuck out a dress shoe. “Still don’t, so I hope Bernie doesn’t show up.” She laughed. “He went to Sacred Heart, so no worries there. And I’ve gotten a little taller since second grade.”

  “You have indeed.” His gaze roamed over her lithe frame. Still as attractive as he remembered, if not even more so now, with the addition of a woman’s curves, a woman’s experiences. But there was a sadness to her, too. He wished he really did have a magic touch so he could figure out what to say. “Have you been in California this whole time?”

  “Yes, taking care of my father.”

  “How is he?”

  She stiffened. “He’s

  He died. A month ago.”

  “I’m so sorry, Leah.”

  “It’s okay. He had a lot of good years. More than we expected.”

  He saw the toll those years had taken in her delicate features, in the weariness that seemed to fill her shoulders, her words. Leah had jetted across the country, on a moment’s notice, to take care of a father who had abandoned her. At the time, he hadn’t been able to understand why. She’d given up everything without a backward glance, because that was the kind of person Leah was—committed, family oriented, planting roots wherever she went. The complete opposite of him. “You took a lot on your shoulders.”

  She shrugged. “It was family. What else could I do?”

  “Go to college, head for New York, like we’d planned. Focus on your own life, ” he said.

  “And here I thought you’d changed, Alec.” She stepped out of his arms as the song wound to its end. “You’re still the man who puts himself first and everyone else a distant second.”

  Then she turned and walked off the dance floor. She crossed the room, pushing through the double doors of the ballroom. They swung shut behind her with a heavy, firm click.

  “Hey, Alec,” called one of the guys from the football team. “Come over here. We want to settle a bet about that winning touchdown you made at State.”

  Alec’s gaze swung back to the doors. They stayed shut, and Leah stayed gone. To his right, the glory days waited, with his former teammates and the cheerleaders who still hung close by. Alec waited only a second, then made his choice.

  Chapter Four

  The dark night air whispered a cool breeze over Leah’s bare arms. She leaned against the building, watching the traffic pass by the hotel, tires creating that soft hush-hush music of a city at night. She drew in a deep breath, then let it out.

  What had she been thinking, dancing with Alec? She wasn’t here to resurrect a relationship with him. Those days were in the past, and the sooner she accepted that, the better.

  So why did she care if he had changed, or whether he still remembered her?

  The door beside her opened and Alec stepped outside. Even now, even when she knew better, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. “Don’t you have a reunion to get back to?” she asked.

  “I could say the same to you.”

  She shrugged. “You’re the one with the fan club inside.”

  He took a step closer, winnowing the gap between them to mere inches. “I don’t care about them.”

  A sigh escaped her and she pushed off from the wall to face him. The Alec she remembered had chased the next headline, looked for the next celebration. He’d been more focused on being the star than on being there when she needed him. “I should probably get back inside. I’m supposed to be in charge of the dessert table at nine.”

  “Avoiding me again?” He arched a brow. “Why can’t you have a simple conversation with me?”

  “We talked.” They had talked and danced, and she had felt his body against hers, and realized she’d been fooling herself to think she was over him.

  But Alec wasn’t the kind of man she wanted in her life—not that day at graduation when he had let her down, and not now. From what she’d seen tonight, he hadn’t changed much.

  He grinned. “We barely talked. I want to know more about what you’ve been doing for the past few years, and what you’re doing next.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, ‘why?’”

  “Our relationship has been over for a long time, Alec. Why don’t we just leave the past where it is, wish each other well and call it a night?”

  “Because there’s still unfinished business between us. Some words that need to be said. I keep trying to say them, but you keep backing away.” He took another step closer. “You’re scared.”

  “Me?” She scoffed. “I’m not scared of anything.”

  “Then prove it.” He took another step, and now nothing but a whisper of air separated them. “Kiss me.”

  “What is kissing you going to prove?” She affected a sarcastic attitude, as if she didn’t care. As if her heart wasn’t beating at a furious pace, her pulse thundering in her head, and anticipation spreading in a warm pool in her gut.

  “That you don’t care about me anymore,” he said, his voice low and dark, his breath whispering against her lips.

  She raised her chin. “We’ve been over a long time, Alec.”

  A slow grin spread across his face. “You said that already.” He reached up and cupped her jaw, letting his thumb trace along her lower lip. Her mouth opened, and the anticipation shifted to a heated roar. Alec’s gaze met hers for one long, hot second, then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

  Desire swept through her in a hot, fast rush. She knew, oh, how she knew, how good a kiss from him would be. He’d been her first kiss, and her most memorable kiss, and a thousand other kisses that she had never forgotten. And now

  Now he was her most amazing kiss. Alec’s lips slid across hers, slow, easy at first, as if he was taking his time getting to know her again. Then his hands came up and cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and he opened his mouth against hers. She curved into him, responding in kind.

  Alec shifted and so, too, did the mood, from sweet and easy to searing and swift, like a fire set off by a torch. He groaned and she echoed the sound, and they crushed their bodies together, their kiss a hungry, blinding rush to have more, more, more. His hands bunched at the back of her dress, and she reached under his suit jacket, grasping at the firm, hard muscles beneath. For a moment, she forgot where they were, forgot who they were, and just gave in to desire.

  Then a car honked behind them, and common sense jerked her back to reality. Above her, rain started falling, soft, just a dusting of droplets. Leah pushed off from Alec and inserted a good foot of distance between them. “That

  that shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Why not?”

  Because she was finally ready to start her own life, and he was pulling her backward. The reunion was one night; after it was over, Alec would go on with his life, and she would go on with hers. “I have to get back inside.” She turned away.

  He reached for her arm. “Wait. Don’t go.”

  She shook her head. “I have to.”

  “I’ve made a mess of this. Would you meet me,” he said, his gaze connecting with hers, “tomorrow, for lunch? Let’s get away from all this—” he waved at the ballroom, and the high-school memories inside “—and have a real, honest conversation.”

  “With you?” She shook her head. “Alec, that was half the problem. We had fun, not honest conversations.”

  “And you think I haven’t changed.”

  “People don’t change, Alec.”

  “Meet me tomorrow. Please.” He took a step forward, and she wanted him to kiss her and leave her all at the same time. The rain started falling harder, pelting Alec’s jacket, Leah’s dress. “You owe me that, at least.” He gave her the ad
dress of a local restaurant. “No strings, no expectations. Just that one conversation we should have had ten years ago.”

  She shook her head and swiped at her face, not sure if it was tears or rain on her cheeks. “What’s that going to change?”

  “You won’t know unless you show up, Leah.” He pressed a soft, tender kiss to her cheek, then he turned and stalked off into the dark, rainy night. Leah stood there a long time, watching the space where Alec had been, while the rain ruined her dress and her heart cracked.

  Chapter Five

  Alec drummed his fingers on the table. Reset his place setting, twice. Fiddled with the napkin. And watched the clock tick past twelve, edge toward twelve-fifteen and then bump up against twelve-thirty. He’d been in the fifties-style restaurant in downtown Boston for so long, the waitress finally gave up on asking him what he wanted to eat, and stuck to refilling his water glass.

  He was a fool for believing Leah would show up. He’d thought he’d read something between them last night in their dance, their kiss. He’d been wrong. He got to his feet, reaching into his pocket for a few bills for the waitress, when the door opened and Leah hurried in, her hair a wild, wet tangle around her face, the khaki trench coat she wore dripping on the floor. Her gaze scanned the room before it lit on him.

  A smile broke across her face, bursting like sunshine in the diner, erasing the gray, rainy day outside. His heart leaped, but he tempered his joy with a dose of reality. Take it slow, one step at a time, and don’t read anything into a simple lunch.

  Alec came around to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair for Leah. “Thanks,” she said, dropping into it with a sigh. She shrugged out of her jacket and ran a hand through her hair. “I lost track of the time and then I couldn’t find a cab and—”

  “You’re here.” He could feel the goofy grin on his face, and he didn’t even care. “I’m glad.”

  He’d dated dozens of women—hell, maybe a hundred—over the past ten years. None of those relationships had lasted more than a few weeks, or meant any more to him than a show on TV. The women he’d dated hadn’t expected much out of him, nor he from them. There had been a mutual agreement that they would have a good time and that was it.