Star Quality. Lori Foster

her along the walkway.

      Absently, her thoughts still jumbled, Jenna told him, “Today was wonderful, Stan. I haven’t seen Ryan so excited in a very long time. Thank you.”

      “No thanks necessary. I enjoyed myself.”

      They reached the porch swing, and Jenna shook off her odd distraction. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should go in.” If she sat down, he’d kiss her, and she’d forget everything else.

      “Why?” He didn’t look disappointed by her suggestion, so much as patient.

      “I know my daughter,” Jenna explained, “and something happened tonight. She might need to talk with me.”

      “Not yet.” Stan pressed her into the swing and then crowded in close beside her. With one big foot, he gave the swing a push.

      Under the porch roof, the moon’s illumination couldn’t quite penetrate, leaving them in heavy shadows. A sense of intimacy enveloped them, crowding out other, more restless thoughts.

      Then Stan said, “Rachelle fancied herself in love with Terrance. Earlier, before she left, she considered sleeping with him.”

      Jenna jerked around to face him. “She told you that?”

      “No.” Stan’s voice remained calm and even despite her disbelief. “She’d even had thoughts about marrying him some day. But tonight he moved too fast, pushing her, not being very nice.”

      Lost, Jenna stared at Stan, her gaze seeking in the darkness.

      “The good news is that her eyes were opened to the type of guy he really is. The bad news is, she’s hurt.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But your daughter is smart, Jenna. She won’t be seeing him anymore.”

      Everything inside Jenna went still. Stan acted as though he knew it all for fact, when that couldn’t be. “What are you talking about, Stan? You can’t possibly know what my daughter is thinking or feeling.”

      “I know.” Stan stared down at his lap, then abruptly turned and pointed at the moon. “You see that, honey? A big, fat full moon, just hanging up there in the sky, lighting the yard like midday. And not just any full moon. This is the second full moon this month. A rarity. A blue moon.”

      A little spooked, Jenna turned her head and glanced up at the sky. The yard did seem unusually bright, and suddenly, the air settled, not even a leaf rustling.

      A chill of alarm went up her spine.

      “Don’t get spooked,” Stan told her. “But this is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

      Jenna had nothing to say to that, so she remained quiet, waiting.

      As if he knew her every thought, Stan smiled. “For some people, maybe for you, a full moon heightens emotions. It’s not turning forty that made you think more about me. It’s the moon. Obviously, for a blue moon, the effect would be exaggerated. It definitely is for me.”

      Jenna frowned. “Exaggerated how?”

      His jaw worked. With his arm around her, her side pressed into his, Jenna felt his muscles tightening. “I was in trouble with juvy—juvenile hall—three times. All three times, I did things people couldn’t understand. I jumped one kid, put myself in front of another, refused to let a girl ride her bike home . . .”

      Awareness dawning, though it didn’t make much sense, Jenna asked, “This all happened during a full moon?”

      He gave one quick nod. “The guy I jumped was going to buy dope from some creeps, just to impress his girlfriend. After they tossed me in juvy, he did it anyway. And got in a shitload of trouble—just as I knew he would.”

      “Buying dope is never a good idea, Stan.”

      Rather than look at her, he stared straight ahead. “The guy I got in front of was going to challenge a bully who would have beat him up and humiliated him in front of everyone. That kid had enough troubles without adding more to his list.”

      Idly, almost as if he didn’t realize it, Stan’s fingertips teased over her shoulder, caressing, stroking—keeping her close.

      In a faint voice, somehow tortured by memories, he whispered, “The girl had lost her mother. She was feeling suicidal. I know, because . . . I felt what she felt. I couldn’t let her leave, knowing what she’d do. I caught hell for detaining her, but as a result, she got caught up in the same chaos that surrounded me. She got attention.” He shrugged. “It helped.” And with insistence, “At least she didn’t kill herself.”

      The knocking of Jenna’s heart made her tremble. She didn’t move, not to pull away from Stan and not to move closer. “I think you need to just spell it out, Stan, whatever it is you want to tell me.”

      “You’re right.” After a deep breath, he faced her. His glittering gaze pierced the darkness, holding her captive.

      “From the time I was a kid, the moon heightened my ability to read other people’s thoughts. When there’s a blue moon, the thoughts are as clear as written text.”

      Jenna barely had time to assimilate what he’d said, to consider the ramifications of what he believed, when he cupped her face in his big hands.

      “Jenna.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “Don’t be afraid of me, honey. And don’t try to placate me. I know it’s farfetched. Hell, my own parents thought I was mental. I can only tell you from experience that it’s true.”

      “Stan.” Jenna eased herself away—and he let her go. On her feet, she backed up one step, then two.

      He watched her. “Think something, Jenna, other than the obvious.” He didn’t leave the swing. “I know you’re worried about me, and about your kids. You want to help me even as you’re wondering if I might be dangerous.” He half laughed. “But then, anyone would know that just by the look on your face. Think of something else. Anything.”

      Dear God, Jenna mused. For him, it’s some warped game.

      “No game.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Warped or otherwise. It’s just the truth.”

      Her eyes widened. Could he have . . . no.

      “Yes.”

      Her breath caught in her throat, strangling her. Hands fisted, Jenna tried to think of something totally off the wall, but instead, she remembered the way he’d kissed her, how much she’d wanted him—

      “I hope you still do,” Stan whispered, pushing slowly to his feet. “Because I want you like hell.”

      “Oh, God,” she said out loud.

      “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to intrude on your privacy. It just happens. Sometimes I can block it out, but with you . . . the things you think just work their way in.” With a cautious stride, he moved toward her.

      “Do you have any idea how hard today was on me? I knew every single time you thought about me.”

      “No.”