Looking for a Hero

by Debbie Macomber

  Denise had initiated him into this kind of thinking, and the hundreds of divorce cases he’d handled since then had reinforced it.

  Then he’d met Savannah. In the beginning, she’d irritated him no end. With her head in the clouds, subsisting on the thin air of romance, she’d met each of his arguments as if she alone was responsible for defending the institution of marriage. As if she alone was responsible for changing his views.

  Savannah irritated him—that was true enough—but she’d worn down his defenses until he was doing more than listening to her; he was beginning to believe again. It took some deep soul-searching to admit that.

  He must believe, otherwise she wouldn’t be sleeping in his bed. Otherwise they wouldn’t have come within a heartbeat of making love.

  What a drastic mistake that would have been, Nash realized a second time. He didn’t know when common sense had abandoned him, but it had. Perhaps he’d started breathing that impossibly thin air Savannah had existed on all these years. Apparently it had tricked him as it had her.

  Nash should have known better than to bring Savannah into his home. He couldn’t sleep with her and expect their relationship to remain the same. Everything would change. Savannah wasn’t the type of woman to engage in casual affairs and that was all Nash had to offer. A few hours in bed would have been immensely pleasurable, but eventually disastrous to them both.

  * * *

  Savannah woke when dawn light crept through a nearby window. Opening her eyes, she needed a moment to orient herself. She was in a strange bed. Alone. It didn’t take long to remember the events of the night before. She was in Nash’s home.

  Sitting up required an effort. The contents of her purse were strewn across the bed and, gathering them together as quickly as possible, she went in search of her shoes.

  Nash was nowhere to be seen. If her luck held, she could call a cab and be out of his home before he realized she’d gone.

  Her folly weighed heavily on her. She’d never felt more embarrassed in her life.

  She moved stealthily from the bedroom into the living room. Pausing, she saw Nash asleep in his recliner. Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered a silent prayer of thanksgiving that he was asleep.

  Fearing the slightest sound would wake him, she decided to sneak out the back door, find a phone elsewhere and call for a cab. Her cell phone was at home; there hadn’t been room for it in the tiny beaded purse she’d brought with her yesterday.

  Her hand was on the lock to the back door, a clean escape within her reach, when Nash spoke from behind her.

  “I thought you wanted to check out my china pattern.”

  Savannah closed her eyes in frustration. “You were sleeping,” she said without turning around.

  “I’m awake now.”

  Her face was so hot, it was painful. Dropping her hands, she did her best to smile before slowly pivoting around.

  “How were you planning on getting home?” he asked.

  “A taxi.”

  “Did you bring your cell?”

  He knew perfectly well she hadn’t. “No, I was going to locate a phone somewhere and call a cab.”

  “I see.” He began to make a pot of coffee as if this morning was no different from any other. “Why did you find it so important to leave now?” he asked in what she was sure were deceptively calm tones.

  “You were sleeping....”

  “And you didn’t want to disturb me.”

  “Something like that.”

  “We didn’t make love, so there’s no need to behave like an outraged virgin.”

  “I’m well aware of what we did and didn’t do,” Savannah said stiffly. He was offended that she was sneaking out of his home. That much was apparent.

  Nash was an experienced lover, but she doubted he’d ever dealt with a situation similar to what had happened to them. Most women probably found pleasure in his touch, not excruciating pain. Most women sighed with enjoyment; they didn’t sob in agony. Most women lived the life of a princess on a day-to-day basis, while her opportunity came once in a lifetime.

  “How’s your leg feel?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You shouldn’t have danced—”

  “Nothing on this earth would have stopped me,” she told him, her voice surprisingly strong. “The pain’s something I live with every day. It’s the price I paid for enjoying myself. I had a wonderful time last night, Nash. Don’t take that away from me.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Sit down and have a cup of coffee. We’ll talk and then I’ll drive you home.” He poured two cups and set them on the round kitchen table. “Cream and sugar?”

  She shook her head.

  He sat casually in one of the chairs.

  “I... I’m not much of a conversationalist in the morning,” she said.

  “No problem. We can wait until afternoon if you’d rather.”

  She didn’t and he knew that. All she wanted was to escape.

  Reluctantly she pulled out the chair opposite his and sat down. The coffee was too hot to drink, but just the right temperature to warm her hands. She cradled the cup between her palms and focused her attention on it. “I want you to know how sorry I am for—”

  He interrupted her. “If you’re apologizing for last night, don’t bother.”

  “All right, I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  Savannah took her first tentative sip of coffee. “Well,” she said, looking up but avoiding his eyes, “what would you suggest we talk about?”

  “What happened.”

  “Nothing happened,” she said.

  “It almost did.”

  “I know that better than you think, Nash. So why are we acting like strangers this morning? Susan’s wedding was beautiful. Dancing with you and the two gentlemen from your office was wonderful. For one incredible night I played the glamorous role of a princess. Unfortunately, it ended just a little too soon.”

  “It ended exactly where it should have. Our making love would have been a mistake.”

  Savannah was trying to put everything in perspective, but his statement felt like a slap in the face. It shouldn’t have hurt so much, but it did. Unwanted tears sprang to her eyes.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked, refusing to let him know how deeply he’d hurt her.

  “I suppose not.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said more forcefully. She was having a difficult time holding back the tears. They threatened to spill down her face any second. “I’d like to go home now,” she said.

  “It wouldn’t have worked, you know.”

  “Of course I know that,” she flared.

  She felt more than saw Nash’s hesitation. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’ve never been better,” she snapped. “But I want to go home. Sitting around here in this dress is ridiculous. Now either you drive me or I’m calling a cab.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  The ride back to her place was a nightmare for Savannah. Nash made a couple of attempts at conversation, but she was in no mood to talk and certainly in no mood to analyze the events of the night before. She’d been humiliated enough and didn’t want to make things worse.

  The minute Nash pulled into her driveway, Savannah opened the car door, eager to make her escape. His hand at her elbow stopped her.

  Savannah groaned inwardly and froze. But Nash didn’t seem to have anything to say.

  “Susan’s wedding was very nice. Thank you,” he finally told her.

  She nodded, keeping her back to him and her head lowered.

  “I enjoyed our time together.”

  “I...did, too.” Even though that time was over now. It was daylight, and the magic of last night was gone.

  “I’ll give you a ca
ll later in the week.”

  She nodded, although she didn’t believe it. This was probably a line he used often. Just another way of saying goodbye, she figured.

  “What about Thursday?” he asked unexpectedly, after he’d helped her out of the car.

  “What about it?”

  “I’d like to take you out.... A picnic or something.”

  He couldn’t have surprised her more. Slowly she raised her head, studying him, confident she’d misunderstood.

  He met her gaze steadily. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  “Yes,” he said, taking her house keys from her lifeless hand and unlocking her front door. “Is that a problem?”

  “I... I don’t know.”

  “Would you prefer it if we went dancing instead?” he asked, his mouth lifting in a half smile.

  Despite their terrible beginning that morning, Savannah smiled. “It’d be nice, but I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll see what I can arrange. I’ll pick you up around six at the shop. Okay?”

  Savannah was too shocked to do anything but nod.

  “Good.” With that he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. It wasn’t much as kisses went, but the warmth of his touch went through her like a bolt of lightning.

  Savannah stood on her porch, watching him walk away. He was at his car before he turned back. “You were a beautiful princess,” he said.

  * * *

  Nash wasn’t sure what had prompted the invitation for a picnic for Thursday. It wasn’t something he’d given any thought to suggesting. In fact, he felt as surprised as Savannah looked when he’d asked her.

  A date. That was simple enough. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t gone out on dates before, but it had been a long while since he’d formally asked a woman out. He was making more of this than necessary, he decided.

  By Wednesday he would have welcomed an excuse to get out of it. Especially after John Stackhouse called him into his office. The minute he received the summons, Nash guessed this was somehow linked to Savannah.

  “You wanted to see me?” Nash asked, stepping inside the senior partner’s office later that afternoon.

  “I hope I’m not calling you away from something important?”

  “Not at all,” Nash assured him. It might have been his imagination, but Stackhouse’s attitude seemed unusually friendly. Although they were always polite to each other, he wasn’t John’s favorite, not the way Paul Jefferson was. But then, Paul wasn’t prone to disagree with anyone who could advance his career.

  “I have a divorce I want you to handle,” his boss said casually.

  These cases were often assigned to him. He’d built his reputation on them. Lately, though, they hadn’t held his interest and he was hoping to diversify.

  “This man is a friend of mine by the name of Don Griffin. It’s a sad case, very sad.” John paused, shaking his head.

  “Don Griffin,” Nash repeated. The name was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

  “You might have heard of him. Don owns a chain of seafood restaurants throughout the Pacific Northwest.”

  “I think I read something about him not long ago.”

  “You might have,” John agreed. “He’s mentioned in the paper every now and then. But getting back to the divorce... Don and Janice have been married a lot of years. They have two college-age children and then Janice learned a few years back that she was pregnant. You can imagine their shock.”

  Nash nodded sympathetically.

  “Unfortunately the child has Down syndrome. This came as a second blow, and Don took it hard. So did Janice.”

  Nash couldn’t blame the couple for that. “They’re divorcing?”

  “Yes.” John’s expression was filled with regret. “I don’t know all the details, but apparently Janice was devoting all her time and attention to little Amy and, well, in a moment of weakness, Don got involved with another woman. Janice found out and filed for divorce.”

  “I see. And is this what Don wants?”

  The senior partner’s face tightened with disappointment. “Apparently so. I’m asking you, as a personal favor, to handle this case, representing Don. My late wife and I were good friends with both Don and Janice.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can,” Nash said, but without real enthusiasm. Another divorce case, more lives ripped apart. He’d anesthetize his feelings as best he could and struggle to work out the necessary details, but only because John had asked him.

  “I’ll make an appointment to have Don come in for the initial consultation Friday morning, if that’s agreeable?” Once more he made it a question, as if he expected Nash to decline.

  This was the first personal favor Stackhouse had ever asked of him. “I’ll be happy to take the case,” Nash said again. So he’d been wrong; this had nothing to do with Savannah.

  “Good.” John reached for his phone. “I’ll let Don know I got him the best divorce attorney in town.”

  “Thank you.” Compliments were few and far between from the eldest of the senior partners. Nash suspected he should feel encouraged that the older man trusted him with a family friend.

  On his way out of the office, Nash ran into Arnold Serle. “Nash,” the other man said, his face lighting up. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

  “I’ve been in court.”

  “So I heard. I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed your sister’s wedding.”

  “We enjoyed having you.” So he wasn’t going to escape hearing about Savannah after all.

  “How’s Savannah?” Arnold asked eagerly.

  “Very well. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

  “Please do. My niece is thinking about getting married. I’d like to steer her to Savannah’s shop. If your sister’s wedding is evidence of the kind of work Savannah does, I’d like to hire her myself.” He chuckled then. “I sincerely hope you appreciate what a special woman she is.”

  “I do.”

  “Pleased to hear it,” Arnold said, grinning broadly.

  By Thursday evening, Nash had run through the full range of emotions. Knowing he’d be seeing Savannah later was both a curse and a blessing. He looked forward to being with her and at the same time dreaded it.

  He got there right at six. Savannah was sitting at her desk, apparently working on her computer; she didn’t hear him enter the shop because she didn’t look up. She was probably entertaining second thoughts of her own.

  “Savannah.” He said her name lightly, not wanting to frighten her.

  She jerked her head up, surprise written on her face. But it wasn’t the shock in her eyes that unnerved him, it was the tears.

  “It’s Thursday,” he reminded her. “We have a date.”

  Nash wondered if she’d forgotten.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s upset you so much?” he asked.

  “No,” she said with a warm smile, the welcome in her eyes belying her distress. “I’m glad to see you, Nash. I could do with a friend just now.”

  Eight

  Savannah hadn’t forgotten about her date with Nash. She’d thought of little else in the preceding days, wondering if she should put any credence in his asking. One thing she knew about Nash Davenport—he wasn’t the type to suggest something he didn’t want.

  “I had the deli pack us dinner,” he told her. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I am,” she said, wiping the last tears from her face. Nash was studying her with undisguised curiosity and she was grateful he didn’t press her for details. She wouldn’t have known how to explain, wouldn’t have found the words to tell him about the sadness and guilt she felt.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, locking the shop. If ever there was a time she needed to get away, to abandon her woes and have fun, it was no
w.

  “Lake Sammamish.”

  The large lake east of Lake Washington was a well-known and well-loved picnic area. Savannah had been there several times over the years, mostly in the autumn, when she went to admire the spectacular display of fall color. She enjoyed walking along the shore and feeding the ducks.

  “I brought a change of clothes,” she said. “It’ll only take me a minute to get out of this suit.”

  “Don’t rush. We aren’t in any hurry.”

  Savannah moved into the dressing room and replaced her business outfit with jeans and a large sweatshirt with Einstein’s image. She’d purchased it earlier in the week with this outing in mind. When she returned, she discovered Nash examining a silk wedding dress adorned with a pearl yoke. She smiled to herself, remembering the first time he’d entered her shop and the way he’d avoided getting close to anything that hinted of romance. He’d come a long way in the past few months, further than he realized, much further than she’d expected.

  “This gown arrived from New York this afternoon. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

  She thought he’d shrug and back away, embarrassed that she’d commented on his noticing something as symbolic of love as a wedding dress.

  “It’s beautiful. Did one of your clients order it?”

  “No. It’s from a designer I’ve worked with in the past and I fell in love with it myself. I do that every once in a while—order a dress that appeals to me personally. Generally they sell, and if they don’t, there’s always the possibility of renting it out.”

  “Not this one,” he said in a voice so low, she had to strain to hear him. He seemed mesmerized by the dress.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “This is the type of wedding gown...” He hesitated.

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  “When a man sees the woman he loves wearing this dress, he’ll cherish the memory forever.”

  Savannah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was Nash? The man who’d ranted and raved that love was a wasted emotion? The man who claimed marriage was for the deluded?