Looking for a Hero

by Debbie Macomber

  “So you ran into a snag with your writing?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re having a problem with your novel.”

  Bailey wondered how he knew that. “Uh...”

  “I suggest it’s time to check out the male point of view again. Get my insights. Am I right or wrong?”

  “Right or wrong? Neither. I called to apologize.”

  “How’s the rewrite coming?”

  “Not too well.” She sighed.

  “Which tells me everything I need to know.”

  Bailey was mystified. “If you’re implying that the only reason I’m calling is to ask for help with Forever Yours you couldn’t be more mistaken.”

  “Then why did you call?”

  “If you must know, it was to explain.”

  “Go on, I’m listening.”

  Now that she had his full attention, Bailey was beginning to feel foolish. “My mother always told me there’s no excuse for rudeness, so I wanted to tell you something—something that might help you understand.” Suddenly she couldn’t utter another word.

  “I’m listening,” Parker repeated softly.

  Bailey took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Uh, maybe you won’t understand, but you should know there’s...there’s a slightly used wedding dress hanging in my closet.”

  Seven

  Of all the explanations Bailey could have given, all the excuses she could have made to Parker, she had no idea why she’d mentioned the wedding dress. Sheer embarrassment dictated her next action.

  She hung up the phone.

  Immediately afterward it started ringing and she stared at it in stupefied horror. Placing her hands over her ears, she walked into the living room, sank into the overstuffed chair and tucked her knees under her chin.

  Seventeen rings.

  Parker let the phone ring so many times Bailey was convinced he was never going to give up. The silence that followed the last peal seemed to reverberate loudly through the small apartment.

  She was just beginning to gather her thoughts when there was an impatient pounding on her door.

  Max imperiously raised his head from his position on her printer as though to demand she do something. Obviously all the disruptions this evening were annoying him.

  “Bailey, open this door,” Parker ordered in a tone even she couldn’t ignore.

  Reluctantly she got up and pulled open the door, knowing intuitively that he would’ve gotten in one way or another. If she’d resisted, Parker would probably have had Mrs. Morgan outside her door with a key.

  He stormed into her living room as though there was a raging fire inside that had to be extinguished. He stood in the center of the room and glanced around, running his hand through his hair. “What was that you said about a wedding dress?”

  Bailey, who still clutched the doorknob, looked up at him and casually shrugged. “You forgot the slightly used part.”

  “Slightly used?”

  “That’s what I tried to explain earlier,” she returned, fighting the tendency to be flippant.

  “Are you married?” he asked harshly.

  The question surprised her, although she supposed it shouldn’t have. After all, they were talking about wedding dresses. “Heavens, no!”

  “Then what the hell did you mean when you said it was slightly used?”

  “I tried it on several times, paid for it, walked around in it. I even had my picture taken in it, but that dress has never, to the best of my knowledge, been inside a church.” She closed the door and briefly leaned against it.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Not particularly,” she said, joining him in the middle of the room. “I really don’t understand why I even brought it up. But now that you’re here, do you want a cup of coffee?” She didn’t wait for his response, but went into her kitchen and automatically took down a blue ceramic mug.

  “What was his name?”

  “Which time? The first time around it was Paul. Tom followed a few years later,” Bailey said with matter-of-fact sarcasm as she filled the mug and handed it to him. She poured a cup for herself.

  “I take it you’ve had to cancel two weddings, then?”

  “Yes,” she said leading the way back into her living area. She curled up on the couch, her feet tucked beneath her, leaving the large overstuffed chair for Parker. “This isn’t something I choose to broadcast, but I seem to have problems holding on to a man. To be accurate, I should explain I bought the dress for Tom’s and my wedding. He was the second fiancé. Paul and I hadn’t gotten around to the particulars before he...left.” The last word was barely audible.

  “Why’d you keep the dress?” Parker asked, his dark eyes puzzled.

  Bailey looked away. She didn’t want his pity any more than she needed his tenderness, she told herself. But if that was the case, why did she feel so cold and alone?

  “Bailey?”

  “It’s such a beautiful dress.” Chantilly lace over luxurious white silk. Pearls along the full length of the sleeves. A gently tapered bodice; a gracefully draped skirt. It was the kind of dress every woman dreamed she’d wear once in a lifetime. The kind of dress that signified love and romance...

  Instead of leaving the wedding gown with her parents, Bailey had packed it up and transported it to San Francisco. Now Parker was asking her why. Bailey supposed there was some psychological reason behind her actions. Some hidden motive buried in her subconscious. A reminder, perhaps, that men were not to be trusted?

  “You loved them?” Parker asked carefully.

  “I thought I did,” she whispered, staring into her coffee. “To be honest, I... I don’t know anymore.”

  “Tell me about Paul.”

  “Paul,” she repeated in a daze. “We met our junior year of college.” That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

  “And you fell in love,” he finished for her.

  “Fairly quickly. He intended to go into law. He was bright and fun and opinionated. I could listen to him for hours. Paul seemed to know exactly what he wanted and how to get it.”

  “He wanted you,” Parker inserted.

  “At first.” Bailey hesitated, struggling against the pain before it could tighten around her heart the way it once had. “Then he met Valerie. I don’t think he intended to fall in love with her.” Bailey had to believe that. She knew Paul had tried to hold on to his love for her, but in the end it was Valerie he chose. “I dropped out of college afterward,” she added, her voice low and trembling. “I couldn’t bear to be there, on campus, seeing the two of them together.” It sounded cowardly now. Her parents had been disappointed, but she’d continued her studies at a business college, graduating as a paralegal a year later.

  “I should’ve known Paul wasn’t a hero,” she said, glancing up at Parker and risking a smile.

  “How’s that?”

  “He drank blush wine.”

  Parker stared at her a moment without blinking. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You prefer straight Scotch, right?”

  “Yes.” Parker was staring at her. “How’d you know?”

  “You also get your hair cut by a real barber and not a hairdresser.”

  He nodded.

  “You wear well-made conservative clothes and prefer socks with your shoes.”

  “That’s all true,” Parker agreed, as though he’d missed the punch line in a joke. “But how’d you know?” he asked again.

  “You like your coffee in a mug instead of a cup.”

  “Yes.” His voice was even more incredulous.

  “You’re a hero, remember?” She sent him another smile, pleased with how accurately she’d assessed his habits. “At least I’ve learned one thing in all of this, and that’s how to recognize a real man.”

  �
��Paul and Tom weren’t real men?”

  “No, they were costly imitations. Costly to my pride, that is.” She altered her position and pulled her knees beneath her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. She’d consciously assumed a defensive position—just in case he felt the need to comfort her. “Before you leap to conclusions, I think you should know that the only reason I need a hero is for the sake of Forever Yours. You’re perfect as a model for Michael.”

  “But you don’t want to become personally involved with me.”

  “Exactly.” Now that everything was out in the open, Bailey felt an immediate sense of relief. Now that Parker understood, the pressure would be gone. There would be no unrealistic expectations. “I write romances and you’re a hero type. Our relationship is strictly business. Though of course I’m grateful for your...friendship,” she added politely.

  Parker seemed to mull over her words for several seconds before shaking his head. “I could accept that—except there’s one complication.”

  “Oh?” Bailey’s gaze sought Parker’s.

  “The kiss.”

  Abruptly she dropped her gaze as a chill raced up her spine. “Foul!” she wanted to yell. “Unfair!” Instead, she muttered, “Uh, I don’t think we should discuss that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was research,” she said forcefully. “That’s all.” She was working hard to convince herself. Harder still at smiling blandly in his direction, hoping all the while he’d leave her comment untouched.

  He didn’t.

  “Well, then it wouldn’t hurt to experiment a second time, would it?” he argued. Unfortunately she had to acknowledge the logic of that—but she wouldn’t admit it.

  “No, please, there isn’t any need,” she told him, neatly destroying her own argument with her impassioned plea.

  “I disagree,” Parker said, standing up and striding toward her.

  “Ah...” She clasped her bent legs even more tightly.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Parker assured her.

  “Isn’t there? I mean...of course, there isn’t. It’s just that kissing makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Couldn’t the man accept a simple explanation? Just once?

  Bailey sighed. “All right, you can kiss me if you insist,” she said ungraciously, dropping her feet to the floor. She straightened her sweatshirt, dutifully squeezed her eyes shut, puckered her lips and waited.

  And waited.

  Finally she grew impatient and opened her eyes to discover Parker sitting next to her, staring. His face was inches from her own. A smile nipped at the corners of his mouth, making his lips quiver slightly.

  “I amuse you?” she asked, offended. He was the one who’d requested this demonstration in the first place. He was the one who’d demanded proof.

  “Not exactly amuse,” Parker said, but from the gleam in his eyes she suspected he was fighting the urge to laugh out loud.

  “I think we should forget the whole thing.” She spoke with as much dignity as possible then got up to carry her cup into the kitchen. Turning to collect Parker’s mug from the living room, she walked headlong into his arms.

  His hands rested on her shoulders. “Both of those men were fools,” he whispered, his gaze warm, his words soft.

  Trapped between his body and the kitchen counter, Bailey felt the flutterings of panic. Her heart soared to her throat, beating wildly. He’d had his chance to kiss her, to prove his point. He should’ve done it then. Not now. Not when she wasn’t steeled and ready. Not when his words made her feel so helpless and vulnerable.

  Gently his mouth claimed hers. The kiss was straightforward, uncomplicated by need or desire. A tender kiss. A kiss to erase the pain of rejection and the grief of loss.

  Bailey didn’t respond. Not at first. Then her lips trembled to life in a slow awakening.

  Like the first time Parker had kissed her, Bailey felt besieged by confusion and a sense of shock. She wasn’t ready for this! She jerked herself free of his arms and twisted around. “There!” she said, her voice quavering. “Are you happy?”

  “No,” he answered starkly. “You can try to fool yourself if you want, but we both know the truth. You’ve been burned.”

  “Since I can’t stand the heat,” she said in a reasonable tone, “I got out of the kitchen.” The fact that she’d just been kissed by him in the kitchen only made her situation more farcical. She brushed the hair back from her forehead, managed a false smile and turned around to face him. “I should never have said anything about the wedding dress. I don’t know why I did. I’m not even sure what prompted that display of hysteria.”

  “I’m glad you did. And, Bailey, don’t feel you have to apologize to me.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, leading the way to her door.

  Parker stopped to pat Max, who didn’t so much as open his eyes to investigate. “Does he always sleep on your printer?”

  “No, he sometimes insists on taking up a large portion of my pillow, generally when I’m using it myself.”

  Parker grinned. Bailey swore she’d never met a man with a more engaging smile. It was like watching the sun break through the clouds after a heavy downpour. It warmed her spirit, and only with the full strength of her will was she able to look away.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” he said, pausing at the door.

  “Yes,” she whispered, yearning to see him again, yet in the same heartbeat hoping it wouldn’t be soon.

  “Bailey,” Parker said, pressing his hand to her cheek, “just remember you haven’t been the only one betrayed by love. It happens to all of us.”

  Perhaps, Bailey thought, but Parker was a living, breathing hero. The type of man women bought millions of books a year to read about, to dream about. She doubted he knew what it was like to have love humiliate him and break his heart.

  “You look like you don’t believe me.”

  Bailey stared at him, surprised he’d read her reaction so clearly.

  “You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “I lost someone I loved, too.” With that he dropped his hand and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  By the time Bailey had recovered her wits enough to race after him, question him, the hallway was empty. Parker had lost at love, too? No woman in her right mind would walk away from Parker Davidson.

  He was a hero.

  * * *

  “I’m afraid I did it again,” Bailey announced to Jo Ann as they walked briskly toward their respective office buildings. The noise on the subway that morning had made private conversation impossible.

  “Did what?”

  “Put my foot in my mouth with Parker Davidson. He—”

  “Did you see his name in the paper last night?” Jo Ann asked excitedly, cutting her off. “It was a small piece in the local section. I would’ve phoned you, but I knew I’d see you this morning and I didn’t want to interrupt your writing time.”

  “I saw it.”

  “Dan was impressed that we even knew Parker. Apparently he’s made quite a name for himself in the past few years. I never pay attention to that sort of thing. If it doesn’t have to do with medical insurance or novel-writing, it’s lost on me. But Dan’s heard of him. He would, being in construction and all. Did you know Parker won a major national award for an innovative house he designed last year?”

  “N-no.”

  “I’m sorry, I interrupted you, didn’t I?” Jo Ann said, stopping midstride. “What were you about to say?”

  Bailey wasn’t sure how much she should tell her. “He stopped by my apartment—”

  “Parker came to your place?” Jo Ann sounded awestruck, as though Bailey had experienced a heavenly visitation.

  Bailey didn’t know what was wrong with Jo Ann. She wasn’t letting her get a word in edgewise. “I made the mis
take of telling him about the wedding dress in my closet. And at first I think he assumed I was married.”

  Jo Ann came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes narrowed. “There’s a wedding dress in your closet?”

  Bailey had forgotten she’d never told Jo Ann about Paul and Tom. She felt neither the inclination nor the desire to explain now, especially on a cold February day in the middle of a busy San Francisco sidewalk.

  “My, my, will you look at the time?” Bailey muttered, staring down at her watch. It was half-past frustration and thirty minutes to despair. The only way she could easily extricate herself from this mess was to leave—now.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, Bailey York,” Jo Ann cried, grasping her forearm. “You’re not walking away from me yet. Not without filling me in first.”

  “It’s nothing. I was engaged.”

  “When? Recently?”

  “Yes and no,” Bailey responded cryptically with a longing glance at her office building two blocks south.

  “What does that mean?” Jo Ann demanded.

  “I was engaged to be married twice, and both times the man walked out on me. All right? Are you satisfied now?”

  Her explanation didn’t seem to appease Jo Ann. “Twice? But what’s any of this got to do with Parker? It wasn’t his fault those other guys dumped you, was it?”

  “Of course not,” Bailey snapped, completely exasperated. She’d lost her patience. It had been a mistake to ever mention the man’s name. Jo Ann had become Parker’s greatest advocate. Never mind that she was also her good friend and if she was going to champion anyone, it should be Bailey. However, in Jo Ann’s starry-eyed view, Parker apparently could do no wrong.

  “He assumed you were married?”

  “Don’t worry, I explained everything,” she said calmly. “Listen, we’re going to be late for work. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “You bet you will. You’ve got a lot more explaining to do.” She took a couple of steps, walking backward, staring at Bailey. “You were engaged? To different men each time?” she repeated. “Two different men?”