Passionate Heat

by Rachel Kenley

  As if he’d ever been welcome. The only place his family was welcome was the Totman River Bar, where his mother did her drinking after work until she starting drinking at home and not working at all. He knew how the people in Glenway regarded his family. Unsteady Betty Anderson and her trio of troublemakers, perpetually trying to pay off their missing father’s gambling debts. His oldest brother, Jason, got into one major fight with the wrong person and they were all painted as problems. Lock up your daughters if one of the Anderson boys came calling, because they weren’t to be trusted.

  He rubbed a hand over his face in disgust. Lord, this was going to be a challenge.

  “You can be the bigger man, Miles,” Charlie said, breaking into his thoughts.

  “You always did know what was on my mind.”

  “Well, when you’d get into those ‘big thinks’ as you called them, I had to learn to read your expressions or you might never have said a word.”

  Miles nodded. He remembered those long periods of letting his mind wander. He’d sit on the front porch swing and rock until his thoughts carried him away. He’d fallen asleep there several times, waking to find one of Paula’s quilts over him. It seemed almost a cliché now, but he knew if he ever had a house, there’d be one of those swings. “I’ll deal with the people of Glenway as necessary. For now, why don’t you take me to the where the fires were and to the new station? Oh,” he said, remembering a commitment he made to his boss, “is there a physical therapist in town or at the hospital?”

  Charlie was instantly concerned. “Why do you need that, son? I thought you were done with rehab.”

  “Relax. I’m down to once a week for the next five months. It’s a requirement to keep me insured. I figured with all the ski injuries around here, there’d be someone nearby.”

  Charlie and Paula exchanged a look he didn’t understand before Charlie said, “There is someone, but at the gym.”

  “Great,” Miles said, glad to avoid a hospital. “After we’re done at the sites and the station, I’ll check in with him there.” He thought Charlie was about to say something, but Paula offered him more coffee, told him Harlow could stay with her, and the moment passed.

  * * * *

  It was nearly five o’clock when Miles arrived at the gym. His head was spinning with information and images. His clothes smelled of smoke and his leg was throbbing from walking among the uneven debris left by the fires. Looking at the wreckage of the last one, he knew Charlie had been lucky to only have a broken arm. He and other members of his team could have lost their lives, a thought Miles didn’t want to dwell on.

  Grabbing the gym bag he had packed for this meeting, he walked into the building and was assailed by techno beat music and the sounds of exercise machines whirring and weights slamming. It looked like any number of gyms he had been in around the country, but it didn’t seem right in this town, where almost everything was run out of a remodeled house or a former trailer. Even the local Mexican restaurant where he had bussed tables as a teenager was in an old Victorian. This steel-and-concrete place couldn’t have been more than five years old and was another testament to how much things had changed.

  He walked up to the receptionist, who greeted him with a bubbly, “Hi! I’m Leslie. Welcome to Maximum Results Gym. Are you interested in joining or getting a tour?”

  “Not today. I need to meet with your physical therapist. Is he available?”

  “He’s a she and yes, I think so. I’ll give her a call.” She picked up the phone and he heard, “Hi, Ms. Boxford, it’s Leslie at the front desk. There’s someone here who’d like to meet with you.” There was a pause before she continued, “No, he doesn’t have an appointment.” Another pause. “I’ll tell him.” She hung up and said, “If you’ll have a seat, she’ll be right with you.”

  “Thanks.” He’d had a few female PTs and didn’t mind working with one while he was here. He walked over to a couch and flipped through a copy of a popular fitness magazine as he waited. He was distracted from the pages when, from the back, he saw a leggy brunette walk to the reception desk.

  His investigator instincts took in all of her in a flash. Long hair was pulled into a neat ponytail which showed off a slender neck. A soft gray workout shirt clung to womanly curves and for some reason he found himself wondering what color her bra was, or if she wore one at all. He continued his assessment noticing the pair of low-riding pants which clung to all the right locations. Her legs were shapely and ended in a pair of simple black ballet flats. She had an understated sexy look, feminine without being obvious, a personal weakness of his ever since his first love.

  Maybe she was new around here and wouldn’t know of his colorful past. The name Boxford was familiar, but the only person he knew in town with that name had been an only child, and a guy. If he wasn’t feeling too rotten after his appointment, he might see if she responded to some flirting and ask her out. Might be nice to include a little socializing during this visit.

  When she turned around, he noticed her amazing smile – and recognition slammed into him. His leg was forgotten. Now he had to worry about his heart. “Jillian, is it really you?”

  Chapter Two

  It had been a long day. Not only did Jillian complete a nearly full calendar of appointments, as well as two dance classes that afternoon, but she was still dealing with insurance companies and angry contractors who needed to be paid. The fire that destroyed her new business had set her back months, and she was as exhausted physically and emotionally as her bank account was financially. As she was finishing the paperwork on a patient, Leslie had buzzed her, telling her someone needed the services of a physical therapist. Jillian wasn’t in the mood to meet and take on a new client, but her income was more important than her feelings, so she put on a smile and went out.

  The smile disappeared completely when she found herself holding out her hand to Miles Anderson, the man who had walked out of her life and taken her heart with him. She had to blink several times to be certain exhaustion wasn’t causing her to see things.

  Is it really you? he’d asked, and she thought she could have asked the same. She hadn’t seen him since he came back for her high school graduation. She flushed at the memory of what had happened that night, then went cold remembering how it all went wrong the next day. They had a fight, said some terrible things, and he was gone. By the time she was ready to tell him she was sorry, she didn’t know how to get in touch with him. She could have asked Charlie or Paula Monroe; they would have known where he was. But pride stopped her. After all, he didn’t try to apologize either.

  Now he was standing in front of her with an expression of confusion that likely mirrored her own. He looked different from when she saw him last. Taller, stronger, and, damn it, sexier. His hair, which he had worn rebelliously long more than ten years ago, was still as closely cropped as it was during his time in the military, but now he sported a mustache and goatee. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering if it would change how his kisses felt.

  “Jillian?” he asked again, and she realized she had been standing and staring, her hand still in his.

  “Hello, Miles,” she said, finally finding her voice. “Sorry for the stunned silence, but to be honest, you are probably the last person I expected to see here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. I assumed you would be living in some big city, dancing with their ballet company.”

  She flinched at the reference to her lost dream and hoped he didn’t notice. “I stayed here instead and got a degree in physical therapy.”

  “But you are still performing?”

  “No, that didn’t work out as I had planned.”

  “You don’t dance anymore?”

  Why couldn’t he let it go? It wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about. “I do occasionally, although for the most part it’s as a teacher, not a performer. So, what brings you back to Glenway? And here to see a physical therapist?” She had to change the topic.

  “Charlie called me
after his accident to ask if I would take over the department while he’s on medical leave, and what brought me to you is my leg. I broke it pretty badly eight months ago, and I’m supposed to see a therapist regularly.”

  “I heard about Charlie, of course. Is he doing better?”

  “He’s home and driving Paula crazy, so he’s definitely on the mend.”

  “It’s good of you to come for him.” You couldn’t come bak for me, though, could you? The thought came unbidden, and she pushed it out as quickly as it arrived. This small talk was killing her. She decided to focus on being professional instead. “Why don’t we go back my office, and I’ll get a full assessment of where you are and what still needs to be worked on to help you finish healing?”

  “I’ll put myself in your capable hands,” he said with a smile that made her heart skip.

  The hell you will was her thought. Although there was another part of her which said, Yes, please. They walked in silence to her office and as she sat down behind her desk, he took a folder out of his duffel bag and handed it to her. It was thick with notes, charts, and recommendations.

  “Your file is bigger then the Glenway phonebook, Miles,” she said, flipping though the surprisingly organized pages.

  “Glenway has a small phonebook.”

  “And you have a big file.”

  “Does size matter in your line of work?”

  Was he flirting? She looked up at him and into blue eyes that instantly transported her back to high school, when she’d enjoyed hours of conversations while staring at him, listening to him, dreaming with him. “Rarely,” she answered simply and returned to the pile of forms. She couldn’t concentrate on what she was reading, let alone decipher all the different handwritings of previous therapists. “At this point I think it would be easier for you tell me what happened and what you’ve done since.”

  “I was injured in a fire last August, shattering my femur and cutting through muscle.” She cringed at the thought. Breaking the biggest bone in the body took horrible force. “I don’t think there’s a single exercise I haven’t done over the last few months. My work as a consultant has me traveling a lot, but to stay insured, I have to keep up with the physical therapy. When I am going to be gone for longer than three weeks, I check in with a local therapist, hand them that folder and start all over again.”

  “For a man with an injured leg, you’ve been on the move quite a bit.”

  “Part of the job,” he said and shrugged. She wondered about all the meanings hidden in the movement. There was a time when she would have known them all, known what was behind the veiled expression. Now he was practically a stranger. With the face that haunted her most erotic dreams.

  Be professional, she reminded herself. He was here to meet with a physical therapist, not talk about old times. “I assume you had surgery to correct the break.”

  “Yes, it’s hell going through airport security with theses rods and screws in my leg, but I’ve started to keep medical information with my identification.”

  “How quickly after surgery did you start physical therapy?”

  “Two days.”

  “Aggressive treatment.”

  “I think I was driving the hospital staff crazy within hours of the anesthesia wearing off.”

  “Somehow I’m not surprised to hear that.”

  “They started me on both upper and lower body strength training. I thought I was fairly strong, but I didn’t know how hard it could be to use crutches when one leg’s not weight-bearing at all. The lower extremity work was just range-of-motion work at first, and then some early gait training.”

  “I hope you know how lucky you are to have had any mobility so quickly. Injuries like yours can cause much more lasting damage. How long was your cast on?”

  “Seven weeks.”

  “You’re a fast healer.”

  “Probably comes from being in shape before the accident.”

  Your shape looks pretty good now, she thought immediately, then pushed it away. She couldn’t let herself think about anything else. Surprisingly, it still hurt. “Medications?”

  “Antibiotics after the surgery, and I was on blood thinners for a while to help prevent clots.”

  She took a few notes of her own. “How long did you use the crutches after the cast came off?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “From the tone of your voice, I’m betting you were off of them the moment they said you could be. You hated them.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Vehemently. I tried to give them up after four, but when I was told it could make the limp more pronounced or even permanent, I went back to them.”

  “Do you have a cane?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’ll take that as a yes but you don’t like using it,” she said.

  “It’s only ever necessary at the end of the day, if at all.”

  Her fingers tingled as she thought about what was coming next. “I’ll need you to come into the treatment area with me. I want to go through a few range-of-motion exercises with you and test the muscles’ strength and resistance. It’s the end of the day. Are you feeling up to it?”

  “I’ve been doing this for months at every time of day. It’s not a problem.”

  “I’m sorry, Miles, it’s an automatic question for me. I didn’t mean…”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Gut reaction for me. I hate people making assumptions about what I can or can’t do because of this injury.”

  Or for any other reason, she remembered silently. “I understand,” she said, and she did. It may have been a lifetime since she saw him, but there were some things she knew could not be changed. Mile’s desire to be independent and successful was one of those.

  “I’ve got a pair of shorts I can switch into, which should make your evaluation easier,” he said as he followed her into the room attached to her office.

  Yes, seeing your bare legs will make this so much easier for me. “The men’s locker room is down the hall we came through, and to your right,” she said.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back,” he said as he left. Looking for it, she noticed the slightest of hesitations in his step.

  Knowing he wouldn’t take long, she used the few minutes to pull herself together. She needed to be prepared to do the work of a qualified therapist. She got a bottle of water out of her small refrigerator and pressed it to her cheek before taking a long drink. Of all the times for him to return to Glenway, why couldn’t it have been a couple of weeks ago when she was feeling stronger and her business was moving forward? She was still shaky from the setback the fire had caused and news a few weeks ago that her divorce was final.

  He walked in wearing only a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. She thought she’d lost the power to breathe and for a moment, she didn’t care if she got it back. When she saw him last, he’d been in the Army for a year and he was more muscular than he was when he’d left, but now the changes were even more pronounced. His chest was inches wider, his legs more powerful than she remembered, and there was an internal strength that matched, if not exceeded, the external.

  Her body responded in a way both familiar and foreign. Familiar, because she had experienced this instant flush and need for someone before. She recognized the sensations of want and desire, but at the same time, it was strange because it was something she hadn’t felt since he had left. And she hadn’t expected to have it happen again.

  She wondered for a moment if he was going through the same thing. He stared at her with a hunger that made her feel attractive and feminine, and she couldn’t move as his eyes traveled the length of her. They probably could have stood there for the rest of the afternoon, but when she moved her gaze to his leg and saw the scar, she found her voice and said, “Come over here to the mat, and follow me through some basic exercises to warm up.”

  “I don’t think I need those,” he mumbled.

  “I’m sorry?” she asked, not certain she heard him right.

  “I’ve
been walking through two of the three fire sites this afternoon. I don’t think I need to do any stretching.”

  “Humor me. I’d like to see what you’re capable of after a full day of weight-bearing activity.”

  “I’m capable of plenty.”

  So, he was going to make this challenging. Fine, she thought childishly. Two could definitely play at that game.

  “On the mat, please.”

  “Absolutely, ma’am,” he said. If she was going to insist, he was going to make this fun. He was over the shock of seeing her, and he was going to enjoy seeing if he could get her to squirm a bit. Of course, it would be torture for him too, but it was worth it.

  The teenager he’d said goodbye to more than ten years ago had become a beautiful woman of grace and sadness. Her sexy walk was made more attractive by years of dancing and she had a way of holding and moving her arms that made her appear as though she was gliding through life. However, serving oversees, he had witnessed how darker emotions and memories registered on people’s faces and her eyes told him a different story. In them he saw a look of loss, and he could not ignore the sorrow he saw there.

  She’d said she wasn’t dancing much anymore. Even as they mirrored each other through some basic stretches, he couldn’t wrap his mind around this information. Most of his non-intimate memories were of her practicing, striving and pushing herself to be the best dancer she could be. Every sacrifice she made, every school event she missed, was for her art. It was so much a part of her that he couldn’t imagine her doing anything else with her life. Now he had a second mystery to solve while he was in town. Not that he wanted to get involved with her again, of course, but maybe he could find out why she stopped writing to him.

  “What’s the raised eyebrow for?” she asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

  He hadn’t realized he was. “Nothing, just letting my mind wander.”