AN INNOCENT MAN

by Margaret Watson

  Why was she trying so hard to persuade him to go with her? Because she simply wanted to be with him, she admitted reluctantly. She couldn't bear the thought of him sitting in the clinic all afternoon, by himself, while everyone else in the town was out having a good time.

  "I'll think about it."

  "Fine." She kept her voice light. God forbid if he realized what she was thinking, that she had a more personal reason for urging him to go with her. She had enough trouble with the attraction that seemed to spark between them without fanning the flames. "Would you like more coffee?"

  "I'll get it." He turned from the window and reached for the coffeepot. "Is there anywhere in town I can get a decent Sunday paper?"

  "If you want to walk a couple of blocks, there's a box in front of the grocery store that usually has the Sunday Denver Post."

  He moved restlessly around the kitchen like a caged animal, pausing at the window again to look toward the mountains one more time. "I'm going to go buy one," he said abruptly, and headed for the stairs. "Is there anything you need from town?"

  "Nothing you could get today." She grinned at him. "We haven't adopted those heathen, big-city ways here in Pine Butte. All of our stores are closed on Sunday.

  "All right. Then I guess I'll be right back."

  She watched him until he'd disappeared down the stairs, then picked up her mug of coffee and leaned back. He'd been restless and edgy ever since she'd walked downstairs and invited him up to breakfast. Earlene's was closed on Sundays, too, and she'd figured she didn't have much choice. It was either her apartment or a day-long fast.

  He'd looked as reluctant to walk up her stairs as she'd been to invite him. The rapport that had flowed between them the previous afternoon had disappeared completely, replaced by a simmering tension that arced between them whenever they were in the same room.

  Everything had changed since their kiss yesterday. She was too aware of him, of his arm laying on the table just inches from hers, of his denim-covered legs stretched out under her table, close enough that she could feel his heat.

  She told herself it was just hormones and pheromones, a simple alignment of chemicals in their bodies. It didn't mean anything, and it would disappear as soon as he left town. She couldn't possibly feel anything other than dislike for the man she'd hated for so long. Except that she was beginning to suspect she didn't have any reason to hate him anymore.

  Barb, is it possible? she cried silently. Could you have let the whole town, including me, think Connor was the father of your baby? Guilt roiled with anger in her stomach, twisting her emotions into knots. Only this time, both the guilt and the anger were directed at her sister.

  She had to remember Barb, she thought desperately. Simple loyalty to her sister would forbid her from getting involved with Connor.

  But as she stood in the middle of her living room, Barb's face refused to come into focus for her. It swam just out of reach, the details blurry and vague.

  She shook her head. She'd never forget what her only sister looked like. Grabbing a photo album, she leafed to a page near the end. Barb stood in front of their Christmas tree, her hands on her gently rounded stomach. Sarah drank in the details, fixing them in her mind. Of course she hadn't forgotten what Barb looked like.

  As she eased the photo album onto the bookshelf, her phone rang. Hurrying to answer it, she stumbled over the chair Connor had been sitting in. Pushing it under the table with just a little more force than necessary, she grabbed the receiver.

  "Hello."

  There was silence on the other end of the phone, broken only by the sound of breathing. Her hand tightened on the receiver and she asked, "Who's there?"

  "It's me, Sarah." The words were almost whispered in a high-pitched, childish voice.

  Sarah slumped against the refrigerator and relaxed her grip on the phone. If she wasn't careful, she'd be seeing bogeymen everywhere. "Who's me?" she asked softly.

  "Danny Franklin. I think there's something wrong with my kitten, Sarah." The words tumbled out. "She won't eat anything and she's very sad. Mommy says the vet won't be open today, and I'm afraid Misty's gonna die."

  Danny was five years old. Sarah had seen him recently for his vaccinations for kindergarten, and all the child could talk about was his new kitten, Misty.

  "Would you like me to take a look at her, Danny? I'm not a veterinarian, but I might be able to help."

  "Yes, please, Sarah. I know you'll make her better."

  "I'm not sure of that, but I'll see what I can do. How about if I come over to your house?"

  "Okay. Bye." The receiver went dead, and Sarah slowly hung up the phone, a smile fading from her face. Knowing Jenna Franklin and the circumstances of her life, she prayed that they wouldn't have to take the kitten to the vet in Meeker, forty miles away. Maybe there was something she could do to help the animal.

  She was rummaging around in the clinic, throwing some pediatric medications into her bag, when she heard the door open. "I'm in here," she called.

  A few seconds later Connor walked into the room, a thick Sunday paper under his arm. His eyebrows snapped together in a frown. "I didn't think your clinic was open on Sundays."

  "It's not." She grinned. "I have an emergency call to make."

  "Are you always so thrilled about emergency calls?"

  Still smiling, she looked around for anything else she might need and shook her head. "This one is a pleasant change after the kinds of emergencies we've had lately. My patient is about four months old and covered with fur." She looked at Connor's puzzled face and grinned again. "One of my five-year-old patients called. His kitten is sick and he's afraid it's going to die. I told him I'd come over and take a look."

  "Do you mind if I come along?" Connor heard himself ask.

  She looked at him and smiled again. "Of course not. I'd enjoy the company."

  Now why in hell did I do that? Connor pondered the question a few minutes later as they walked down the street. Even though it was early, the day promised to be beautiful. The scorching heat had eased a little, and a gentle wind blew through his hair. He could be sitting on the swing in Sarah's garden right now, reading the Denver Sunday paper and drinking coffee. Instead he was walking down the quiet streets of Pine Butte, on his way to take a look at a damn kitten.

  He glanced at the woman walking next to him and knew exactly why he'd asked to go with her. He'd want to be with her if they were heading out to slop the pigs. The words had flowed out of his mouth on their own, but he realized that even the nirvana of a Sunday paper and a good cup of coffee held no attraction if Sarah wasn't there to share it with him.

  Clearing his throat, he said, "What exactly do you think you can do for this kitten?"

  "Probably not much," she admitted. "I don't know anything about veterinary medicine. I just don't want Danny to be scared, thinking that his kitten is going to die."

  There weren't many people, he thought, who would give up their Sunday morning to reassure a child that his kitten was all right. Everyone he knew would have brushed the child off with a careless word about how the kitten would be fine. He couldn't think of another person who would go to the trouble of actually looking at the animal.

  But then, he didn't know anyone else quite like Sarah Wesley. She was a thoughtful, caring, good person. He ached to pull her close and let her warmth and caring soak into him. He raised his hand to her shoulder, but let it drop before he touched her.

  He couldn't let himself be sidetracked by this woman. He had come here for a reason, and it had nothing to do with feminine diversions. Staring straight ahead while he enumerated the reasons he had to forget about Sarah Wesley, he didn't realize she'd turned into a yard until he felt her hand on his arm.

  Her touch was like fire on a cold day. He welcomed the pain even while his soul burned. He hoped to God she wouldn't notice his body's response to her simple touch. He had to get out of this town, and fast.

  "We're here," she said, watching him for a moment. "Are yo
u all right? Maybe you should have stayed at the clinic and rested."

  "I'm fine."

  "You look like your head hurts. Are you sure you don't want to go back to the clinic and lie down?"

  Lying down by himself wasn't going to do anything to cure what ailed him. "I'm okay, Sarah. Let's take a look at this kitten."

  Giving him a worried look, she rang the door bell. Almost immediately the door was opened by a small child with light brown hair and enormous gray eyes. "Hi, Sarah," the boy said, opening the door.

  A woman who looked remarkably like the child hurried to hold the door open. "Thanks for coming, Sarah. I hope you don't mind that Danny called you. He absolutely insisted that you would know what to do."

  "I'm not sure about that, but I'm happy to take a look at Misty for him. Jenna, this is Connor MacCormac. He's staying at the clinic for a few days. Connor, this is Jenna Franklin, Danny's mother," Sarah said easily.

  He held out his hand and she took it promptly. "Nice to meet you, Mr. MacCormac. It was awfully nice of you to come with Sarah. Come on in."

  Connor stared at the woman, dumbfounded. He'd expected an assessing look, at the very least. His name alone should have raised her eyebrows, not to mention the fact that he was staying at the clinic. But then, probably everybody in this small town already knew about that.

  He entered the house warily, but Jenna Franklin and her son seemed to have forgotten about him. Danny had taken Sarah by the hand and was leading her into a small but sunny living room. There, on the sofa, a small mop of orange fur was curled into a tight little ball.

  "That's how she's been since yesterday, Sarah," the child said, looking at Sarah with enormous, frightened eyes. "She doesn't want to play or anything. She doesn't even want to eat. She takes a bite of her food and it just falls out of her mouth."

  "He's right, Sarah. The poor thing hasn't eaten a thing since early yesterday and has barely moved off the couch." Jenna Franklin picked up her son and sat on the couch next to the kitten. In spite of the worry Connor knew she felt for the kitten, she seemed like a woman who was utterly calm and at peace with herself. Looking at her, sitting on the couch with the child in her lap, he knew there was nowhere else on earth she would rather be than sitting in this tiny house in Pine Butte holding her son.

  Sarah stroked her hand gently down the kitten's back, and the animal stirred, stretching. "Did she get out of the house, Danny? Could she have gotten hurt somehow?"

  The child shook his head vigorously. "Uh-uh. Mommy says it'd be dangerous for her to go outside since she's so small. I'm real careful."

  He watched as Sarah picked the animal up and held it in her palm. It looked ridiculously small and helpless, like a tiny newborn baby.

  Sarah poked and prodded the animal, even pulling out a stethoscope and listening to the small chest. After looking in its eyes and ears and trying without success to get it to open its mouth, she set it gently on the couch and knelt down next to the boy.

  "I'm not sure what's wrong with Misty, Danny. Maybe she has an upset tummy."

  "Like I get when I have too many hot dogs?"

  She hid a smile. "Yes, kind of like that." She took Danny's hands. "I think maybe you'll have to call the vet tomorrow." She looked at Jenna. "Maybe he can prescribe something over the phone."

  Connor saw the look the two women exchanged, and the fear and desperation that passed over Jenna's face. He realized instantly that Jenna couldn't afford to take the animal to the vet. Her house was scrupulously clean, but she didn't have much furniture. Both her clothes and the child's were worn and faded.

  Without thinking, he reached for the kitten. "Do you mind if I take a look at her, Danny?"

  The boy shook his head, watching Connor with eyes that didn't dare hope. "Sarah's almost a doctor, you know. She could fix Misty if anyone could."

  "You're right there, Dan. But I just want to take a look at something," he muttered, concentrating on the tiny bundle in his hands. He hadn't missed the way the kitten had resisted when Sarah tried to open its mouth.

  Bracing the kitten in his lap, he ignored its needle-sharp claws as he pried its mouth open. Trying to hold it steady for long enough to get a good look inside, he finally spotted what he'd been looking for.

  Placing the kitten gently on the couch, he ran one hand down its back as he turned to the child. "I think I know what's wrong with your kitten, Danny. I think she may have been chewing on an electric cord and she burned her mouth. She probably gave herself a little shock, too, which is why she's been sleeping so much."

  The little boy wrinkled his none. "Why would she do that?"

  "For the same reason little babies do things like that. They don't know any better. She's probably getting her teeth and needed to chew on something."

  Sarah had picked up the kitten again and was trying to get it to open its mouth. "What did you see in there?"

  "There's a deep red groove on her tongue and red marks that look like burns on her lips. I'm sure that's what it is."

  "What can we do about it?" Jenna Franklin picked up the kitten and cuddled it next to her.

  "I think that your vet would probably tell you to mix her food with water so she can eat more easily, and maybe to give her antibiotics. She'll probably stop sleeping so much in a day or two."

  "Thank you, Mr. MacCormac." Jenna's eyes shone with gratitude. "How do you know so much about it? You're not a veterinarian, are you?"

  "I've had cats," he said gruffly, somehow not willing to lie to this woman who looked at him so trustingly. "It's a pretty common injury."

  As Sarah measured out a bottle of a common, pink pediatric antibiotic, Connor sat on the floor and watched the two women. Sarah handed the bottle to Jenna, gave the kitten one more quick caress and stood up.

  "You'd better call the vet tomorrow, just to be certain that we're doing the right thing," Sarah said.

  "I will."

  A look of perfect understanding passed between the two women, and Sarah bent down to give Danny a kiss. "You take good care of Misty for me, Danny. I'll come by tomorrow and check on her."

  The child had a smile on his face as he slid off his mother's lap. "Okay."

  Jenna Franklin stood up. "I don't know how to thank you, Mr. MacCormac. Misty is very important to Danny," she said softly.

  He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "It's nothing. I hope the kitten's okay."

  "I'm sure she will be. Are you coming to the picnic this afternoon?"

  There was nothing but friendly invitation in the woman's eyes, and he found himself saying, "I thought I might."

  "Wonderful. I'll see you there."

  Sarah didn't say anything until they were out the door and almost back to the clinic. Finally she said, carefully, "Jenna's wonderful, isn't she?"

  He glanced at her in surprise, then slowly smiled. He wanted to kiss her, right there in the middle of the street. She actually sounded jealous of her friend.

  "She's great," he said, feigning enthusiasm. He couldn't resist teasing her. "And gorgeous, too."

  Sarah fumbled with the lock on the door to the clinic. Shoving it open, she waited until he followed her in, then shut the door just a little too hard. "I'm glad she was able to convince you to go to the picnic this afternoon. I'm sure you'll have a good time with her and Danny."

  She headed toward the stairs to her apartment, and he snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her against him. "I'll have a good time at the picnic this afternoon, but it won't be with Jenna Franklin." He nuzzled the fragrant hair at the back of her neck. "She's very nice, but I'm not interested in her."

  She turned around slowly in his arms and looked at him. "What are you interested in, Connor?"

  "My father," he muttered, unable to look away from her. "I'm interested in what happened to him."

  "Is that all?"

  In answer he bent his head and touched his lips to hers. He meant for the kiss to be light and quick, a mere brushing of his mouth against hers, an apology for t
easing her.

  He wasn't prepared for the explosion of desire that hit him. Fire coursed through his veins, making him instantly hard and throbbing with need for her. His arms tightened around her and he pulled her closer.

  She came willingly, fitting into him as if she belonged there. Her mouth clung to his, and when he flicked his tongue over her lips she opened to him immediately. Plunging into her mouth, he tasted the sweet, ripe flavor of her. When she hesitantly touched his tongue with hers, he groaned and pulled her hips closer to his, rocking against her so she could feel the extent of his desire for her.

  "Sarah," he groaned into her ear, his voice harsh. "I can't even see any other woman besides you."

  "I want you, too," she whispered, her voice so faint that he could hardly hear her.

  Her hands kneaded the muscles on his back and her hips moved slightly against his. He doubted she even realized what she was doing, but the evidence of her arousal made him afraid he would lose control. Blood pounded in his head, and his legs felt suddenly wobbly.

  He steered her toward the couch in the waiting room and eased her down onto it, covering her body with his. She raised her head, disoriented, but when he kissed her again she wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him. He couldn't wait another moment. He had to touch her. Gripping the soft material of the T-shirt she wore, he pulled it slowly out of the waistband of her shorts, then slid his hand underneath. Her skin was hot and slick with perspiration. His hand smoothed her stomach and slid up her ribs, pausing when he noticed her sudden stillness as he got closer to her breasts.

  He smoothed one finger slowly over the outer curve of one breast, feeling her fingers tighten on his back. Bending to kiss her neck, he teased her for a few minutes. His finger circled and stroked, getting closer but not touching her nipple. She was rigid beneath him, almost holding her breath.

  Both her hands dug into the muscles of his back, gripping him almost painfully.

  He fought for control, wanting to prolong the moment for as long as possible. He shifted against her, fitting himself into the V of her legs but holding himself very still. If he moved at all, it would be over too soon.