Carol Ericson - Circumstantial Memories

Sighing, she snapped the cover shut and strolled to her mother’s balcony. She planted her elbows on the wrought-iron railing entwined with purple wisteria and gazed at the busy Paris boulevard below.

When she arrived in Paris, Julia had waited for the warm, comforting blanket of home to engulf her. Mom, sobered by Julia’s experience with amnesia, welcomed her back with open arms and an open heart. Mom dived into her role as grandmère with the gusto she usually reserved for Paris fashion week.

Despite her mother’s effusive efforts, Julia still didn’t feel as if she belonged here…because she belonged with Ryder.

During their struggle in the cave, Jeremy had shot Ryder in the shoulder. Julia wanted to cancel her trip to Paris and stay with Ryder, but he’d insisted she go and take Shelby with her. Was he pushing her out of his life again, pushing his daughter away?

Before Julia left for Paris, Rod pulled her aside and explained to her how much Ryder feared following the bad example set by his parents. How he’d tried to saddle himself with all the blame to avoid admitting his mother never cared for motherhood.

Rod had shrugged his broad shoulders. “He’s afraid to be a father. He’s afraid to be a husband.”

She’d tried to talk to Ryder about it, but she didn’t want to push him. She didn’t want to coerce him into accepting the role of father if he didn’t want it.

She sauntered back into the room, picked up a sofa cushion, and then tossed it aside. With hands on her hips, she surveyed the cheerful room feeling anything but.

The front door of her mother’s flat creaked open and Shelby peered around the edge, a perky hat perched on her head at a jaunty, if precarious, angle.

Julia smiled. Her mother had taken her tomboy granddaughter shopping. Boy would she be disappointed when she found that frothy bit of confection floating upside down in a fountain or doubling as a collection basket for rocks.

“Are you back already?”

“I have a surprise.” Shelby ’s curls quivered in excitement as her bright blue eyes danced.

Julia held her breath. She hoped the surprise didn’t consist of a muddied kiddy haute couture frock. She didn’t want her mother to catch on too quickly that Julia had failed miserably at raising a girly girl.

Shelby shoved the door open to reveal a tall, rangy cowboy, sans hat and boots, filling the doorway of her mother’s flat. Julia expelled her breath with a sound that ended halfway between a gurgle and a gasp.

“It’s Daddy. We found him outside.” Shelby placed her hands on the backs of Ryder’s thighs and pushed.

“Ladies shouldn’t be pushy, Shelby.” Julia’s mother popped up behind Shelby and grabbed her hand. “Come, give your maman and papa time together. Then we can all go out as a family later.”

Julia swallowed the lump in her throat as Ryder tousled Shelby ’s hair, his large hand covering the top of her head.

“I have some things to show you and places to take you that I’m sure your grandmère doesn’t even know about.”

Mom arched a perfect eyebrow. “You’re not in Colorado now, Ryder. This little girl needs some civilization, some polish.”

Ryder’s laugh filled Mom’s exquisitely furnished apartments, almost causing the delicate table in the foyer to tremble. “Give it your best shot, Celeste, but Shelby’s a Colorado cowgirl. Knew it the minute I spied her on Silverhill’s main street.”

Julia’s mother sent a conspiratorial wink Julia’s way before bustling a protesting Shelby, hat and all, down the hallway.

Left alone with Ryder, Julia twisted her hands in front of her although she couldn’t pinpoint the source of her nervousness. He came after her, didn’t he? Or maybe he just came for Shelby. She dug her heels into Mom’s shiny hardwood floor.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

She tilted her chin. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Good as new, except for the bandage.” He patted a bulky lump beneath his shirt. “How’s Paris?”

Lifting her shoulders, she spread her arms. “It’s Paris. What’s not to like?”

Actually, she could think of lots of things. First, it wasn’t Colorado and second it didn’t contain Ryder…until now.

Before she could form the next inane question, Ryder devoured the distance between them in two quick strides and possessed her lips in a fiery, impatient kiss that answered all her questions and settled all her doubts.

When she could breathe and think straight, she whispered against his mouth, “You came for me.”

“I always intended to come for you…and our daughter.” He cupped her face in his hands, running the pad of his thumb along her throbbing lower lip. “When I confronted the fear of losing you and Shelby in that cave, I knew I’d do everything in my power to protect my family. Even if I failed, I’d die trying.”

“You’re not going to fail.” She kissed that distracting thumb. “You’ve already given us so much. You gave my life back to me.”

“And you’ve given my life back to me. I resigned from Black Cobra. After all, a married man with a family can’t go chasing around the world, running from his fears.”

Julia rested her cheek against Ryder’s chest, his pounding heart, sure and strong, reverberating through her soul. She felt right at home in his arms and she knew exactly who she was.

She was Julia Rousseau, soon to be Julia McClintock.

And she was loved.

Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her Web site at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”