Love

by Sherryl Woods

  “Yes. I assume that you’ve seen the last of that guy.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Jason repeated, his voice rising ominously.

  “I haven’t seen him for a while now,” Sammy said quickly to Dana’s relief.

  Jason nodded. “Look, although I think the guy ought to be turned in, I’m not going to force you to rat on him. However, if I find you that you’ve been within a mile of him again, you and I will go a few rounds and I guarantee you won’t like the way your face looks when I’ve rearranged it.”

  Dana waited for a rebellious outburst and was stunned when Sammy struggled against a giggle and lost.

  “You heard that in some old movie, right?” he demanded. “James Cagney, Edward G. Robinson, one of those guys.”

  Jason shook his head. “Nope. That was pure Jason Halloran and I meant every word. If you doubt that, just try me.”

  Sammy’s grin faded.

  “So,” Dana began hurriedly. “It’s probably time we got home.”

  After one last measuring look, Jason and Sammy nodded.

  When they reached the apartment, Sammy took off for his room without another word. Jason dropped his coat over the back of a chair and headed straight for the kitchen. “Do you have any coffee?” he called over his shoulder.

  “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Dana muttered as she trailed after him.

  In the kitchen she took the can of coffee from his hands and scooped some into the pot. When she’d turned it on to perk, she faced Jason. “Thank you for everything you’re trying to do, but be careful, Jason. Don’t push him too hard. He’ll just rebel.”

  “If I let up on him for even a second, I’ll lose the edge. Right now he’s giving me a sort of grudging respect because no one has ever been this tough with him before. I want him to understand the ground rules.”

  She regarded him oddly. “Is that how you were raised?”

  “Hardly. My parents were just one step away from being the kind who thought a child should be allowed to express himself, even if that included tearing down the house. There were a few times when I really wished someone would set down a few rules, so I’d know what the hell was expected of me. Fortunately my grandfather wasn’t shy about doing just that. I used to love to visit him because I always knew exactly what I could and couldn’t do. And I always knew he and my grandmother loved me, even when I crossed the line.”

  “You think I’ve been too lenient with Sammy,” Dana said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I just see a kid now who’s crying out for someone to point him in some direction. If it’s not you, then it’ll be those thugs he considers his friends.”

  Dana poured the coffee, then sank down across from Jason. “Sometimes I get so damned tired of being responsible,” she said wearily.

  Jason reached for her hand. “You’re not in this alone anymore,” he said softly. “From now on we’ll share the responsibility.”

  Although everything in her screamed that she had to remain strong, had to remain independent, she couldn’t bring herself to voice the words that would keep him at bay. She felt his strength pouring into her, felt the warmth and concern that surrounded her like a velvet cloak and wanted with all her might to draw it closer.

  When he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles, she felt like the most cherished woman on the face of the earth. The sensation was too intoxicating by far to turn away. She would indulge herself, just for tonight, in the fantasy that Jason would always be around to protect her.

  Chapter Nine

  Feeling an unfamiliar need for a long, friendly chat that might help her to put things with Jason into perspective, Dana walked over to Mrs. Finch’s bookstore on her way home from work at the print shop a week later. Although she didn’t really need an excuse for dropping by, she had one all prepared. She’d finished the bookstore’s latest flyers. Mr. Keane had run them off on the copying machine just before closing.

  Glancing in the shop’s window before entering, her mouth dropped open. Wearing slacks and a dress shirt, Jason was scrunched down in one of the faded chintz chairs that were placed here and there for browsing customers. His tie was loose, his collar open. He was holding a china cup of tea that looked completely out of place in his big hands, but his expression was rapt as he listened to Mrs. Finch. Dana couldn’t imagine what the two of them had to talk about.

  Except her, she thought with horror, rushing inside.

  “Agatha Christie is the very best mystery writer ever,” Mrs. Finch was declaring to Dana’s relief.

  “John D. MacDonald,” Jason countered. He glanced up and shot Dana a warm look. “And there’s Dashiell Hammett. What do you think, Dana?”

  She regarded the two of them warily, not entirely convinced of the innocence of the conversation. “I don’t have time to read mysteries.”

  “I’ve tried,” Mrs. Finch said apologetically as if Dana were one of her failures. “I sneaked one of Christie’s best into her sack last time. She brought the book back the next day. Said I’d mixed it in with her books by mistake.”

  “Didn’t you even peek?” Jason teased.

  “No,” Dana said, then amended, “Okay, I peeked. I read the first few lines…and a little bit at the end.”

  Mrs. Finch looked delighted. “Oh, my, I’ll have you hooked yet.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Dana warned. “And don’t even think about trying to get me addicted to those romances you love so much. They’re frivolous.”

  “Only if you don’t happen to care about human relationships,” Mrs. Finch informed her.

  “Interesting how she keeps bringing those romances up, isn’t it?” Jason observed, giving the bookstore owner a deliberate wink. “Do you suppose she’s developed an obsession with romance lately?”

  Dana looked from one to the other, scowling, then muttered something about looking for a new design book. This visit was doing absolutely nothing to ease her mind. If anything, she felt more ganged up on than ever. Obviously her friend had chosen sides. What puzzled her was that there were even sides to choose. A week ago Jason Halloran hadn’t even wanted to spend a few hours in an office with her. Now he was popping up every time she turned around. Was the man trying to drive her nuts?

  “Certainly, dear. Look all you want,” Mrs. Finch said, clearly already distracted by her handsome visitor. “You know where they are.”

  Jason didn’t even bother to comment. He jumped right back into the mystery discussion they’d been in the midst of before her arrival.

  Suddenly feeling thoroughly out of sorts, Dana went down the narrow aisle to the back of the store. She plucked books off the shelves, scanned them without seeing the words, then put them back. After she’d been through half a dozen books, she realized she was straining to listen to Jason and Mrs. Finch. They seemed to be having a grand time without her.

  Dana edged closer, then sat in an old armchair that invited customers to curl up. She’d spent hours in this chair on other occasions, lost in the design books that she suspected Mrs. Finch had started to stock just for her. Though she held one of the newest books now, all of her attention was riveted on the chattering pair at the front of the store. They were just out of view, though occasionally she glimpsed Jason’s blond hair when he leaned forward to make a point.

  She supposed it was nice that a man as busy as Jason would take the time to visit a sweet little old lady. No, there was no supposing about it. It was nice. So why did she seem to resent it? Why was she so suspicious of this sudden change of heart?

  Actually she’d been increasingly disgruntled this whole week when Jason had ignored her and spent his spare time with Sammy. Her brother had come home filled with stories about Jason’s excellent left hook, his fancy footwork in the ring, his awesome sucker punch. Dana wondered idly where those punches had been when she’d slugged him at Washington’s Tavern. She should probably consider herself lucky that she’d escaped that day without a scratch.


  At any rate it seemed that Jason was slowly but surely winning Sammy over. She couldn’t very well begrudge her brother the male attention he so badly needed, but she was beginning to wonder exactly where she fit in. It bothered the daylights out of her that it seemed to matter.

  The truth, she finally admitted with a sigh, was that she was feeling left out. Downright lonely, in fact. In a life that had been crowded with work and school and raising Sammy, it was a totally new and not particularly welcome sensation. Mrs. Finch was the closest thing she’d ever had to a grandmother. Sammy was her brother. For reasons that escaped her, Jason seemed intent on adopting both of them.

  As for Jason’s plans where she was concerned, his precise role in her life seemed to defy description. In another era, he would have been described as a beau, one who’d already made his intentions perfectly clear. In this bolder day and age, he might have been her lover by now, if both of them hadn’t had serious reservations about such a drastic move. For the past week he’d been virtually ignoring her. Had he lost interest? Wasn’t that what she’d wanted? Since she wasn’t able to put him—or her own emotions—into a nice, neat little compartment, he was troublesome.

  She glanced wistfully toward the front of the store. She could just walk up and join them. They hadn’t deliberately shut her out of the conversation earlier. In fact, the expression in Jason’s eyes had been warmly welcoming. In a way, she supposed, she envied them their uncomplicated conversation, their free and easy laughter. Whenever she was with Jason the conversation always took a dangerously intimate turn, and the laughter had a wickedly provocative edge to it that set off fireworks deep inside her, even when they were arguing. Sometimes especially when they were arguing.

  “Where did you go?” Jason asked softly, coming up and hunkering down in front of her. He braced his hands on her thighs, sending a jolt of awareness through her. Those fireworks exploded in fiery splendor.

  Dana’s pulse scrambled at the probing look in his eyes.

  “I’ve been right here,” she said.

  “Maybe physically, but your mind must have been a million miles away. You looked, I don’t know, a little sad, I guess.”

  Dana wasn’t about to admit to the oddly jealous turn her thoughts had taken. Instead, she said, “Who won the battle over the mystery writers, you or Mrs. Finch?”

  “We agreed to disagree. I promised to read old Agatha with a more open mind and she’s going to reconsider MacDonald’s Travis McGee series.” A spark of pure devilment lit his eyes. “I was hoping she’d offer me one of those romances with the sexy covers.”

  Dana chuckled at his disappointed expression. “I’ll just bet you were. Carrying one of those around would have done astonishing things to your image.”

  “Think it would counteract the stodgy coat?”

  Without thinking about what she was doing, Dana reached over and fingered the hair that had fallen over his eyes. As she smoothed it back into place, she felt his skin heat beneath her touch, detected the sudden leap of his pulse. Knowing that she could stir him so readily gave her an unexpected sensation of power. Why was it Jason who made her feel so much like a woman? What quality did he have that wreaked havoc with her best intentions? Compassion? Gentleness? Strength? He had them all.

  And that terrified her.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the image that coat projects,” she told him, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips.

  “Oh?” he said, his voice suddenly whisper rough. “I was under the impression you considered me and my coat deadly dull.”

  “A week ago I might have,” she admitted.

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know what to think of you anymore,” she said, sounding bemused. “Sometimes…sometimes I can’t even think when I’m around you.”

  Jason looked every bit as bewildered as she felt. He captured her hand and drew it to his chest. She’d never touched material as soft as the fine cotton of his shirt. Beneath it she could feel the powerful thunder of his heart as his gaze held hers.

  “But you feel things when you’re with me, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “Tell the truth, Dana. Aren’t you the least bit tempted?”

  Something in his tone pleaded for honesty. She owed him that much, even knowing she couldn’t commit to more than this one costly admission.

  “Tempted to go to bed with you? Yes,” she confessed.

  He shook his head. “No, to fall in love with me.”

  “Oh, Jason,” she whispered, wishing she could admit this truth as readily: she wasn’t just tempted, she was already falling. And it scared her silly.

  * * *

  All of these tantalizing glimpses and teasing remarks were beginning to torment Jason. He’d deliberately kept his distance from Dana for the past week, hoping that this craziness would go away, that he’d awake in the morning and Dana would no longer appeal to him. He had a sinking feeling that changing the color of his eyes or the rhythm of his heart would be easier.

  Last night in the bookstore he’d sensed that she was on the edge, struggling with deep emotions that were clearly as foreign to her as they were to him—emotions neither of them were ready to accept.

  She’d looked so lost and alone that he’d wanted to take her into his arms and swear to her that she would never be lonely again, that he would always be there to offer comfort and strength and love. He wasn’t sure, though, that it was a promise he could keep. He had no track record with commitment and responsibility. As for handling the implications of love—not just sex—between a man and a woman, he was every bit as inexperienced as she.

  And then there was Sammy. His respect for the boy’s intelligence was growing, even as his frustration mounted. For all the progress the two of them had made in recent days, the kid was hardly ready for sainthood. Jason suspected that their outings to the gym might only be giving Sammy the skills he would need to tough it out on the streets. Jason doubted the teen actually saw boxing as an alternative to the thrill of real violence. Every time Jason tried to speak to Sammy about making a serious change in his attitude and his companions, the youngster’s overt hostility returned.

  Faced with the least attractive side of Sammy’s personality, Jason continually had to remind himself that he was doing this to prove to himself that he was capable of being totally unselfish for once in his life. Maybe it would be a sign that he’d finally grown up.

  The bonus, of course, was the approval and relief that shone in Dana’s eyes with each tiny bit of progress he made with her brother. It made him feel ten feet tall. He hadn’t realized how badly his self-confidence needed such a boost.

  He had started doubting his own common sense. Maybe he’d misjudged how wrong Dana was for him. He’d felt revitalized the past couple of weeks. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to risk deepening their relationship.

  Convinced of that, Jason left work early with his blood pumping just a little harder as he contemplated a very romantic evening ahead. He found a florist who’d managed to rush the season with an abundant assortment of spring flowers. Jason filled his arms with red tulips and golden daffodils, picked up a bottle of wine, then stopped at a meat market that dealt only in the choicest steaks and chops.

  It occurred to him to call ahead to be sure Dana would be home. But he felt certain she’d find a dozen excuses for turning him down. He skirted the most obvious one by buying a third steak. He figured there was no escaping Sammy’s presence. Jason appreciated the irony in having the kid as a chaperon.

  It was dusk when he reached the neighborhood. The nearest parking place was an unsavory two blocks away. Jason gathered his purchases from the back seat, then started toward Dana’s. He had just started to cross the entrance to an alley, when he heard a commotion and sensed a violent undertone. One glance into he gloomy alley brought his heart to his throat.

  Dana was pressed against a brick wall. A trio of unkempt youths were taunting her. A fourth, his back to Jason, was hanging back, oddly sil
ent. From where Jason stood at the entrance to the alley, there was no question at all about their intentions—they were going to rob her or worse.

  Jason was filled with such a murderous rage, his hands shook. Every instinct shouted at him to rush to her rescue. His muscles ached from the tension of listening to his head, which warned him that rushing in against these odds wouldn’t help Dana and might even get her hurt.

  As he considered what to do, his heart pounded so hard he was sure they would hear it. Anger rushed through him with raw, primitive force. If they laid one finger on her, one finger, he would delight in taking them apart.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Dana said. She was pale, but there wasn’t the slightest quaver in her voice. Jason winced at the spunky declaration. Didn’t she know she was just daring them to contradict her? Didn’t she have enough good sense to recognize the very real danger she was in? Maybe it was just as well. He was terrified enough for the two of them.

  He’d never felt more helpless in his life, trying to cling to reason when all he wanted was to strike out blindly, to pay them back for threatening her. In that instant he realized with a sense of shock that he was falling in love with her.

  And, with horrifying clarity, that he could lose her.

  “Hey, did you hear that, Rocky? We don’t want to do nothin’ to the lady.” The punk who said it leered at her and inched closer as if to contradict her statement. His fingers swept down her cheek. Jason felt sick to his stomach as he thought of how easily the boy could have wielded a knife instead.

  Finally, his hands knotting into fists, the boy hovering in the background spoke. “Leave her alone, Vinnie.”

  Vinnie didn’t look inclined to take his advice. “Kid, stay out of this.”

  At the hint of a split in their ranks, Jason took heart. Maybe the odds weren’t so uneven after all. Suddenly, with a move so swift it took both Vinnie and Jason by surprise, the boy leaped. He began pummeling the ringleader, obviously fearless or determined to pretend to be. Jason recognized the attitude even before he picked up on the slim build and blond hair. Sammy, coming to his sister’s defense without regard to the consequences to himself—or to her, for that matter.