THE BOY NEXT DOOR Read online

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  THE BOY NEXT DOOR

  by

  ADRIANNA DANE

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

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  The Boy Next Door

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2006 by Theresa Gallup

  ISBN 1-59279-543-9

  Cover Art © 2006 Trace Edward Zaber

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

  Published in the United States of America

  Books by Adrianna Dane

  The Boy Next Door

  The Diary Of Lillian Manchester, Book I: The Stranger

  Eluria's Enforcer

  Esmerelda's Secret

  Earthly Delight

  Realm Of The Ice God

  Smooth Finish

  Fertility Rite

  Graphic Liaisons

  Jebediah's Promise

  Legend Of The Beesinger

  Nights In White Satin

  Images Of Desire

  Immortal Treasure

  If You Dare...

  Sylvie's Gift

  Whisper

  Dedication

  For my very own high school sweetheart...

  Chapter 1

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  I should tear it down, she thought, studying the large, sturdy oak tree at the far back left corner of the yard.

  Young love wasn't meant to last. She should have gotten over him a long time ago. Fifteen years had come and gone since the last time she'd seen him.

  There'd been others since then, even a time or two when she'd thought about getting married. She'd come so close. Loneliness would settle in to loosen her defenses, and the solitude would wrap around her, and she'd get scared as the years passed that she would end up a lonely old woman with only a cat or dog, or both, as company.

  She didn't want to be alone. She wanted to share her life with someone, but she just hadn't discovered the right man yet. That's what she kept trying to tell herself.

  Was it because she'd formed such a strong bond with the boy next door? And then he'd left, just flat disappeared from her life. One minute they'd been together, fitting perfectly, wrapped tightly in their own world, lying in each other's arms in the tree house they had built together. The next thing she knew, he was gone, disappeared without a trace.

  She'd been sixteen and he was eighteen. It was the summer right after he'd graduated. They'd talked about their plans for the future.

  They'd had so many plans, a multitude of stars in their eyes--at least in hers. It had broken her heart when he left. A piece of her gone that could never be replaced.

  The day she'd finally admitted he was lost to her forever was her eighteenth birthday, one year, eight months, and fourteen days from the night he disappeared. She'd gone to the tree house that night, finally thinking she was ready to say good-bye to the past.

  She'd knelt on the rough, scarred wood floor and sat staring out the small window across the yard to where a single yellow light shown through a window. She could see the shadow of a person moving around in the kitchen, probably his father getting a late night snack.

  Her gaze had moved upward to where she knew his room was, but it was dark. She'd tried so hard to will a light to come on, to see the shadowy outline of the boy she'd known so well. Her own bedroom in her parents' house had been directly across from his. She remembered standing in the window each night, as he stood at his, breathing on the glass, and writing "I love you," in the foggy condensation. He would do the same. An ache had settled in her chest at the memory.

  She had continued the ritual for long months after his disappearance from her life. But never again was there an answering light in the window.

  A month after he'd disappeared, his mother and little sister had left. And then, finally, his father had put up a "for sale" sign in front of the house next door. And there was nothing left--nothing but the tree house in the backyard to fuel her fantasies.

  That night her gaze had moved upward to the star-filled night overhead, settling on one vibrant star far above. She could make a wish, but she'd made so many wishes over the almost two years since then that she had no wishes left for herself

  In the tree house his scent seemed to surround her, and she inhaled deeply, one last time, accepting the echoes of a first love that was now gone, and making the decision that it was time to move on with her life. She was young and she could survive the loss of her first love. She would survive.

  But she had made one last wish that night and then had walled off her heart. She never wanted to feel that pain of loss again. Never, as long as she lived.

  She'd finally climbed down from the tree house in the wee hours of dawn as the first swirling mists of daylight began to emerge. She hadn't looked back since that day, and had never returned to the tree house--yet it had remained a reminder of all that had once been most important in her life.

  Two months later she had left for college and after graduation had taken a job as a librarian in a different city. She'd always made excuses not to return home, not to be confronted by the emptiness she'd felt over the ensuing years.

  Yet, here she was, as though this house, this neighborhood, and the structure in the tree out back, were her destiny, a chain of memories that could never be broken indelibly drawing her back.

  She turned away and walked inside the house. She'd grown up here, spent all her young life in this house, knew every inch of it and could probably even walk the streets of the neighborhood blindfolded and find her way home.

  It haunted her dreams, the smell of the lilac bushes in the spring that represented the border between her house and his, Mrs. Grady's prize rose bushes two doors down, and the peppermint from Mr. Thompson's herb garden across the street. There was never a time when she ate a peppermint candy that she didn't think of old Mr. Thompson.

  But it was the scent of the lilacs that brought to the surface the aching memories of the boy next door. She could smell them now, and it made her want to go out and cut down every one of the vibrant bushes and crush them beneath her feet. Maybe then the memories would be cut out of her heart as well.

  He'd left her without a word, and she'd tried to cut him out of her life, and had been reasonably successful for fifteen years.

  Until her father had become ill and she'd been required to return home to help her mother care for him. She'd had no choice but to return. In the end, her father had died peacefully in his sleep, and she'd stayed to help her mother put things in order.

  And then she'd stayed to help her pack up and move to Florida to be near her sister.

  So here she remained, a solitary woman, with no hope of finding a love to fill the void she felt inside. An opening at the local library had come at a weak, sentimental moment for her. She'd applied for the job, and been hired.

  It was like everything conspired to keep her here. With the job so close, she'd ended up deciding to purchase the house from her mother, deciding she would re-decorate and maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

  But it all seemed to be closing in on her. Now that the dust had settled, h
er mother was ensconced in her new condo in Florida, and all the estate and medical matters for her father were settled, the past seemed to cling to her. She felt like she was suffocating from the desire and need to break free.

  But hadn't she tried that fifteen years before, yet they had followed her everywhere she went? Would she never be free of his memory? Of the remembrance of his touch on her skin, the spicy scent he wore that drove her crazy?

  Over the years, new faces had moved into the house next door. Maybe it was because this last new family had a son that was about his age when he'd disappeared from her life. There were times when she saw the light come on in what had once been his room and her heart would flutter with the memories, and then still with the knowledge.

  She couldn't say his name, even now, after all these years. He was never coming back, and she could not return to that last moment in her life when she'd known the warmth of his love, felt the strength in his arms, and the heady taste of his kiss.

  Yes, tomorrow she would see about having the tree house dismantled, and begin the process of burying all the pain of lost love. And maybe have the lilac bushes taken out. But how did she deal with the memories so deeply entrenched inside her soul?

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  He stood across the street beneath the illumination of the street lamp staring at the door of 21 Garrison Avenue. He'd read in the paper that her father had passed away, and then had learned she'd purchased the house, so apparently planned to stay. Why had he come here? Why would she return to stay after all these years? He could have left her alone if she hadn't returned.

  His gaze shifted to 23 Garrison and his mood darkened. The old man was dead--he'd died from a slow, excruciating bout with cancer, and he couldn't say he was sorry. There was no place in his heart for sympathy for the bastard, and never would be.

  He'd spent years trying to please him and had never succeeded. The harder he'd tried, the worse it had become. And as the years passed, the tougher the lessons learned.

  Again, his gaze shifted back to the house next door. Any good memories he had of this neighborhood were tied to her, to that house--not the one he'd grown up in.

  Would she recognize him if he just walked up and knocked on her door? Would she want to remember him after the way he'd left her?

  He'd felt the wrenching pain when he'd made the choice. But there had been no other decision to make. Through the years of hiding, then finally when he'd joined the Army, through the years in college, her memory had trailed him all over the world, a part of him he couldn't deny.

  Memories of their last night in the tree house, all the plans they'd made, all gone up in smoke in an instant. The pain he'd felt at having to leave her without a word was something he would always regret having done. But in the end, he'd had a responsibility, and there had been no other option.

  If he'd tried to tell her, he would have lost his resolve. If he'd had to face the hurt he knew he'd see in her eyes, he might have faltered. And if she'd known the truth, it might have put her in danger, and he wouldn't have been there to protect her.

  If something had happened to her because of him, he would never have been able to forgive himself, and probably would have ended up in prison if he'd tried to make it right.

  He'd lived with a lot of pent up anger and regret over the years, burning deep inside his gut. For all he'd been required to sacrifice to protect the people he loved. All because of one man.

  Given the same set of circumstances, he would do it all again. There simply had been no other choice.

  He saw a light come on in the front room of 21 Garrison and a shadow move to the window and pull the drapes closed. She was home. How much would she have changed over the last fifteen years?

  He remembered the feel of her long chestnut hair, how it sparkled and snapped beneath the summer sun, how it clung to his fingers and his face in the frigid, winter cold, when they bundled close, trying to keep each other warm.

  The memories never faded away, and he never forgot the smell. The aroma of lilacs always caused an ache in his groin as the memories drove like a knife through his heart.

  His footsteps echoed as he crossed the quiet street and stood at the gate of the white picket fence that surrounded the front yard of her house.

  I love you.

  Her voice whispered in the air around him. It echoed along the silent street. It had followed him through the long, empty years. Every inch of this avenue was carved with her presence. Every step he'd ever taken here, every thought he'd had was with her in his mind, in his heart.

  Everything he'd done, had been toward the view of a future with her in it. Yet, in the end, she hadn't been a part of the future he'd wound up following.

  But he wanted her to be a part of it. Had always wanted that.

  He'd tried to stay away, even when he knew she'd returned. Maybe if he'd stayed away from her father's funeral, hadn't seen her there, he could have kept the promise to himself. He'd remained hidden from the others, trying to stay out of sight, not wanting to cause her more sorrow as she grieved for her father. What did that feel like? To grieve so, for the loss of a father? The only thing he'd ever regretted and grieved for was the loss of her.

  Opening the gate, he stepped onto the walkway leading up to 21 Garrison.

  Closing his eyes, he saw her as she'd been, her bright smile, and flashing silver-blue eyes that changed colors with her moods. She'd given him everything, shared all of herself with him, every nuance, every thought, and had expected the same from him.

  But there'd been some things he couldn't share with her. Dark things. If he'd uttered them aloud, he wouldn't have been able to protect her. He'd never wanted her to be touched by the darkness.

  She was so innocent and perfect, the light in his darkness, the angel of his life. To have dragged her down to his hell could have destroyed her, and so he'd kept a part of himself secret from her, in order to protect her. It was the only thing he could give her.

  Could she forgive him now, if he told her the truth? If he told her why he'd had to leave?

  He mounted the five steps onto the porch and his finger hovered over the doorbell.

  The love he felt for the girl who was now a woman had not diminished over the years. It was a light that had kept him sane, and made him want to survive and to become the man she might have respected.

  This would be his one chance to find out if they could recapture what was once between them. But would she give him a second chance?

  The only way to find out was to ring the damned doorbell and face all the secrets in his past. The secrets that had kept him from her side all these years, the reasons he had to leave her without a word.

  Taking a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell. Moments that represented a lifetime ticked by. The porch light flickered on and then he heard the click of the latch as the door opened.

  She looked up at him inquiringly, no recognition in her expression. Had he changed that much in the last fifteen years?

  He removed the dark glasses he wore and he saw sudden surprise and shock in her eyes.

  "Reed," she gasped as she clung to the doorjamb as though for support. She raised a hand like she wanted to reach out and touch him. It fluttered between them, then she placed it against her breast. He saw a hint of pain in her expression before she masked it with a polite, mannequin smile.

  His heart thundered in his chest. She had changed. The pretty girl he'd once held in his arms had grown into a stunningly beautiful woman. He wanted another chance desperately, needed her to understand what had happened, why he'd left her. Would she give it to him?

  "Hello, Josie. How are you?"

  Chapter 2

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  She stood there, just staring at him, unable to believe he was real and not just something she'd made up with her reminisces of earlier.

  "Reed Barnett," she said again, trying to convince herself he really stood there.

  It had been the eyes. When he took off the dark glasses and she'd seen
his eyes, she'd known. They were the same eyes that had haunted her dreams over the years. Eyes she would never forget--dark midnight blue rimmed with thick, velvet black eyelashes.

  There'd been times when he looked at her she'd felt like she was enclosed in a thick velvet cloak, soft and warm, wrapped around her, stroking against her skin.

  He was older, and there were fine lines near his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. His thick, wavy dark hair was sprinkled with silver lights. Maturity had added depth to the boy. Solid, hard muscle stretched the leather coat across his broad shoulders. Her gaze traveled downward to lean, narrow hips encased in black, figure-molding jeans. He'd always looked great in his worn blue jeans; now was no different.

  "It's been a long time, Jo." His deep, raspy voice reminded her of autumn late night walks through the fallen leaves, the smell of burning logs and crackling bonfires. And his warm hands exploring her body beneath a bulky sweater as she sat between his hard thighs.

  For the first time in a very long time her body responded in ways she'd only ever experienced with Reed. Desire gripped her. Her nipples beaded beneath the old, faded T-shirt she wore, and liquid heat flooded her pussy as a burgeoning fire began to spark to life in her belly. She grasped the open door more tightly, to keep herself from reaching out to him, to see if he was real or just a figment of her vivid imagination.

  She couldn't seem to find her voice to answer him, and suddenly felt like that same naïve schoolgirl he'd left behind so long ago without a backward glance.

  And it was the memory of the leaving that returned her voice. She straightened away from the door and her spine stiffened.