Love Enough For Two (Love Inspired) Read online

  She stared a moment longer but, try as she might, Sierra couldn’t convince herself to leave this one last detail unattended. Picking up the rug, she folded it in half and went outside, making sure not even one speck of lint fell on Libby’s polished hardwood floors.

  The veranda drew her like a magnet. The wide expanse of wood had once been her and Libby’s play area. When they were young, they’d draped blankets over the railing and made forts. When they were older the porch had been the place where she and Libby had perfected animal calls.

  Sierra chuckled to herself, remembering the first time they’d demonstrated their newfound talent in front of Stella. They’d been about nine at the time and Libby had gone first, doing a fairly respectable chicken squawk. Sierra had followed with her version of a pig’s oink. Unlike Libby, who’d refused to flap her wings as they’d practiced, Sierra had taken a finger and lifted her nose so it resembled a pig’s snout and let loose with the loudest oink she could muster.

  Libby’s mom had been clearly stunned by the realistic sounds. She didn’t applaud, but instead raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, and told them Peggy had cookies waiting for them inside on the dining-room table.

  Sierra gave a melancholy sigh. Those were the good old days. Though she knew she should lock up and head home to bed, she couldn’t bring herself to move. It was a beautiful evening and the first time she’d had a chance to relax all day. The temperature hovered around sixty-five and the air was fresh with only the faintest hint of moisture. Sierra shook the rug then draped it carefully over the railing. Resting her elbows on the soft fibers, she leaned forward and stared out into the darkness.

  Life had been so simple then. It hadn’t taken much to bring happiness: chocolate-chip cookies, a good book and a loud oink.

  Sierra’s lips turned up in a smile. She hadn’t oinked in forever. At one time she’d been quite good. She wondered if it was like riding a bike, once you learned, you never forgot? Or was it like the French she’d learned in middle school? She’d never used it and now the only thing she could do was count to ten.

  Of course, there was one way to find out….

  Straightening to make sure she had the support of her diaphragm, Sierra put her finger to her nose and let out a big, bad oink. The shrill squeal split the air and down the block a dog barked in response.

  Sierra smiled, pleased that she hadn’t lost her touch.

  “Is that why you skipped the party?” The deep voice came from the shadows at the bottom of the steps. “So you could practice barnyard sounds?”

  Sierra heart leaped to her throat and she grasped the railing to steady herself. “Matt. What are you doing here?”

  Matt had come from the other side of the house only minutes before and caught sight of her standing on the veranda. His initial reaction had been relief; at least she wasn’t lying unconscious somewhere. The next was anger; she had stood him up.

  The temptation had been strong to call out to her, but he’d resisted the impulse, waiting first to see if she was alone.

  When no one appeared, he’d started toward her, only to stop dead in his tracks at the ungodly sound splitting the night air.

  “What was that?” Matt gazed up at her from the steps leading to the porch. “It sounded just like a pig.”

  “It did sound pretty realistic.” Sierra’s smile widened and pride filled her voice. “I guess it is like riding a bike—once you’ve mastered the technique you’ve got it for life.”

  Matt ignored the comment and climbed the stairs, not waiting for an invitation. “It’s too bad California isn’t a big hog-calling state, or you could have a real career in front of you.”

  Her gaze narrowed and suspicion filled her eyes. “Are you teasing me?”

  “Maybe.” He found it impossible to keep from smiling. “That sound really threw me for a loop.”

  Sierra’s lips curved upward in an answering smile. “We all need to be thrown off course once in a while.”

  She looked so beautiful when she smiled that for a moment he could only stare. She didn’t need to be wearing an elegant evening gown to take his breath away. He paused, suddenly remembering why he was here. “About tonight—”

  “I’m sorry about standing you up.” She gathered up the rug and shot him an apologetic glance. “How about I explain everything over a cup of cocoa?”

  “Cocoa?”

  “With marshmallows,” she added. “The real stuff. Not from a box.”

  He shrugged and nodded, struck again by how lovely she looked in the moonlight. Her hair resembled spun gold and her eyes were wide and luminous. Her T-shirt and jeans accentuated her lean, curvy figure and sent his pulses racing.

  “Take a seat.” She gestured with one hand to two chairs that flanked a rustic table. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  In a jiffy?

  Matt shook his head, sauntered to the table and sat down. He leaned back and loosened his tie. Maybe he’d lied to his dad. Maybe Elizabeth Carlyle was a little bit ditzy. And maybe he was a little crazy for finding her so attractive.

  True to her word, she returned several minutes later with two steaming mugs.

  “Enjoy.” Sierra placed a cup before him, took her own and sat down.

  The smell of rich chocolate mixed with the sweet scent of rapidly melting marshmallows tempted his taste buds. Though he’d always associated the drink with cold weather and roaring fires, he decided to give it a try.

  “Delicious,” he admitted after taking a sip.

  Sierra favored him with a smile. “My mother always said I made the best hot chocolate.”

  Matt took another sip. Based on how his father had described Stella, he was surprised the woman even knew what a kitchen was, much less encouraged her daughter’s culinary endeavors.

  “Don’t tell me you like to cook?” Try as he might, Matt couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

  “Very much.” Sierra nodded and took a sip of her own cocoa. A trace of the sticky sweetness coated her lips and she reached for her napkin.

  But Matt was quicker. His fingers curved over hers and he plucked the napkin from her hand. “Allow me.”

  Sierra smiled and puckered her lips.

  Matt groaned. He’d wanted to talk things out before he kissed her, but nothing about this night was going as planned.

  He dropped the napkin to the table, leaned forward and covered her mouth with his.

  Matt had intended it to be a brief kiss. But the moment his lips met hers, all lucid thoughts fled. And when her hand traveled up his arm to his shoulder and her fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, the only thing that mattered was her.

  Her lips were warm. Gentle fingers caressed his neck, making his heart beat hard and fast. When she started to pull away, he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him.

  “I’ve missed kissing you.” Sierra sighed as his mouth left hers, a soft regretful sigh that nudged at his already tenuous control.

  “It seems like years,” he said.

  Sierra stared at him, her eyes large and luminous in the moonlight. “I’m thinking this could be a hard habit to break.”

  Matt smiled. He’d learned long ago that some habits weren’t worth breaking. It was all he could do not to pull her to him and convince her of that fact. But first, the question of why she’d stood him up needed to be answered.

  But when her fingers laced through his hair and she lifted her face for another kiss, Matt decided it didn’t matter where she’d been, all that mattered was that she was here with him now.

  Her breath fell outward on a soft sigh as his mouth covered hers. She tasted of marshmallow and chocolate, a sweet combination. He felt her hands lower to grip the lapels of his tux.

  Matt angled his head and deepened the kiss.

  Her lips parted and he unhurriedly claimed her mouth. They kissed for what seemed like forever and only when his hands tugged impatiently at the soft cotton of her T-shirt, pulling it loose from the waistband of he
r jeans, did she jerk back and push his hands away.

  He met her gaze. “Let me stay with you tonight.”

  Though the look in her eyes told him she was sorely tempted, she shook her head. “That can’t happen.”

  “I don’t have to stay all night,” Matt said. “That’s something we can decide later.”

  He moved toward her but Sierra stepped back and shifting her gaze downward, methodically tucked her shirt into the waistband of her jeans. When she looked up, Matt knew he was in trouble by the coolness in her eyes.

  “Do you really want to spend the night with someone you barely know?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a long moment, contemplating the best way to answer such a tricky question.

  “I like you,” he said, finally.

  Sierra tilted her head. “What is it you like about me?”

  “First another kiss.” He trailed a finger up the bare skin of her arm. “All this talking is making me hungry.”

  Sierra smiled and Matt’s hopes rose once, only to plummet when she removed his hand from her arm with a firm, deliberate gesture. “First we talk.”

  Matt blew out a frustrated breath. There were so many things he liked about her that they’d be talking all night if he mentioned them all. And talking wasn’t what he wanted to be doing right now. “You’re upbeat and funny, not to mention incredibly beautiful.”

  “But what about my views on current events, religion, politics?” she asked, returning his smile.

  Matt shrugged.

  “For all you know I could be a socialist,” she added.

  “For all you know, I could be one,” he said, hoping to tease her out of this obsessive need to talk everything to death.

  “Matt,” she said, a hint of warning in her tone.

  “C’mon, Sierra.” He reached forward and took her hand, his thumb caressing her palm. “Don’t be so obstinate.”

  “Obstinate?” She jerked back her hand.

  The minute her voice rose and her eyes flashed, Matt knew it’d been the wrong thing to say.

  She lifted her chin. “I’m obstinate because I won’t fall into bed with you?”

  Matt groaned to himself. Why did she keep saying they’d just met? They’d known each other now for what seemed like weeks. And their parents had known each other for years. It wasn’t as if they were strangers. “I don’t want to do that, either.”

  Sierra lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I feel a connection with you,” he admitted.

  “How can you feel a connection with someone you just met?” she asked.

  “We didn’t just meet,” he said emphasizing each word through gritted teeth. “Anyway, there’s more to feeling connected than knowing someone’s voting record. Take Carl for example. Would you say he knows you?”

  “What does he have to do with this?”

  “Humor me,” Matt said.

  “Okay, yes, he knows me,” Sierra said.

  “And you know him?” Matt persisted. “You know his feelings on politics, current events, religion?”

  “I’ve listened to a lot of sermons,” she said. “I’ve been in his Bible Study groups. And his views on the major issues are clear.”

  “But you still don’t want to kiss him.”

  Sierra frowned. “I’ve told you before that I’m not attracted to Carl. Not in that way.”

  “But you are to me,” he said triumphantly.

  “I don’t see the point,” Sierra said.

  “It doesn’t matter how long or how well you know someone,” Matt said. “When you’re talking about being connected, what matters is the chemistry.”

  “Chemistry is part of it, but not all,” Sierra insisted. “You have to know what makes someone tick to feel truly close to them. Chemistry alone can’t sustain a relationship.”

  Matt stared at her for a long moment, realizing finally that she was going to make this as difficult as possible. “Have I told you that I’m deeply committed to preserving the environment? Or that I’m not a Socialist. I’m actually an Independent. And, in case you’re wondering about church affiliation, I’m a member of Brentwood Christian.”

  The lines of concentration deepened along her eyebrows and under her eyes. “Matt, that kind of information is fine and dandy, but it’s not enough.”

  “That was preliminary,” he said quickly. “If there’s anything else you want to know, just ask.”

  “I can ask anything?” The assessing look in her eye took him by surprise.

  “Anything that’s not protected by attorney-client privilege,” he said.

  “Hmm.” A finger rose to her lips and she thought for a moment.

  His sense of unease increased with each passing second but he told himself he was being foolish. After all, she’d probably just ask the same old questions all women asked. Things like what was his birthday? His favorite food or color? What was his favorite sports team? The possibilities were endless.

  Sierra took another sip of cocoa and leaned back, her fingers embracing the mug. “What was it like when your mother left?”

  Chapter Eleven

  What was it like? What did she think it was like?

  Matt picked up the mug in front of him and took a big drink. The hot cocoa seared his throat, but he relished the pain. Obviously, Sierra didn’t realize he never talked about that time in his life. Not to Tori, not to his father, not to anyone.

  He thought about telling her it was too personal, or that it was none of her business, but then he remembered his promise. He’d always been a man of his word, so he’d answer her question. But he’d keep it short and sweet.

  “It was hard. One day she was there. The next she was gone.” He relayed the events as if he was an impartial observer. “My sister cried herself to sleep for months. My dad buried himself in his work.”

  “And you?” she prompted.

  “I did the best I could to comfort my sister.” The memory of Tori’s heartbreak stood vivid in his mind. “And to stay out of my dad’s way.”

  His father had said something to the effect of “good riddance to bad rubbish” but Matt knew his mother’s leaving had hit him hard. Not only had she taken a good chunk of his bank account with her, she’d left him with two kids he barely knew.

  “You were there for your sister.” Sierra placed a hand on his arm. “Who was there for you?”

  “I did okay on my own.” He’d been strong and had taken her leaving like a man, as his father had instructed.

  But there’d been nights, when he was sure no one would overhear, that he’d cried. And as angry as he’d been at her for leaving, he still missed her. Missed the way she tousled his hair and called him “sport.” Missed the way she sang silly songs in the car. But, most of all, he missed the way she used to hug him and say she loved him, even when he tried to pull away.

  Even now his heart clenched, remembering.

  “When my father left,” Sierra said, “my faith was a real blessing.”

  “Our minister came over after my mother took off, but he and my father got into an argument. Dad told him that you can only count on yourself,” Matt said. “Said this was a prime example why a person shouldn’t put their faith in anyone but themselves. Needless to say, the pastor didn’t agree.”

  “What do you believe?” Sierra asked softly.

  Matt steeled his heart against the compassion in her voice. Though he’d always believed there was no value in rehashing the past, it felt good to talk about that time. Especially with someone like Sierra who listened rather than telling him what he should think or feel.

  “I believe that most of the time, given the chance, people will disappoint you,” Matt said.

  An odd look crossed her face and he wondered if he should have been so honest. For a second he thought she was going to argue the point. Instead, she took another sip of cocoa. “Do you see your mother now?”

  “I haven’t seen her since the day she walked out the door,” Matt said. “What really gal
ls me is now she thinks she can come back, say she’s sorry and—”

  Matt stopped short, realizing too late that he’d said too much. But those blasted letters from her kept coming and though he told himself he should just throw them into the trash unread, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Not after all those years of checking the mailbox every day, hoping she’d written.

  “You can’t forgive her.”

  “She doesn’t deserve to be forgiven,” Matt said flatly.

  “Grace is something needed but not deserved,” Sierra said, and he found himself wondering if they were just words or if she really believed them. “We didn’t deserve to be forgiven, but God forgave us. Can we do any less for others?”

  It was ironic, Matt thought, that the things that were so hard in life always sounded so simple. He fixed his gaze on Sierra. “Have you forgiven the man who hurt you?”

  Sierra lowered her gaze to the mug on the table and after a long moment, shook her head.

  “Then you understand,” he said in a low tone, “how hard it can be to do the right thing.”

  “I do.” Sierra sighed. “And I’m beginning to realize that you and I have more in common than I thought.”

  “That’s good,” Matt said.

  “I’m not so sure,” Sierra murmured.

  The sentiment took Matt by surprise. He frowned. “I thought that you wanted to get to know me.”

  “I did,” she said. “But somehow I thought I’d like you less, not more.”

  The tightness that had gripped Matt’s shoulders eased and his lips curved upward in a smug smile. “I knew you liked me.”

  “Arrogant jerk,” she shot back, but there was no rancor in her tone.

  “Piggy.” Matt chuckled and said it a couple more times for good measure. “Piggy. Piggy.”

  Sierra’s eyes widened. “What did you call me?”

  “Piggy,” he repeated, his mood lightening by the minute.

  Her gaze narrowed.

  “Hey, I find oinking incredibly attractive,” he added.

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Why does it not surprise me that you found a way to steer the conversation back to our little problem?”