“I see,” Dr. Winston said thoughtfully. “I know it’s a long shot, but is it possible that in their haste to depart they left something of importance behind? Equipment, paperwork…anything?”
Sheryl was tempted to hang up on the woman. In fact, she automatically moved the phone slightly away. But she gathered her composure and returned the receiver to her ear. Panic was not the answer. “No. As far as I know they didn’t leave anything behind. Sorry.”
Sheryl expected the so-called doctor to hang up on her, but instead the caller remained polite. “It’s been a long time,” the woman said, friendliness and composure remaining steady in her voice. “But I did have to ask. If you by chance run across anything interesting that might possibly be related to the old fertility clinic, please give me a call.” She proceeded to give Sheryl her home, office and cell phone numbers.
“Doctor,” Sheryl said, before the woman could say goodbye, “what exactly are you looking for? It’s been such a long time, I can’t see that files so old would be worth anything.”
“They don’t have any real value,” Dr. Winston answered. “Though there might be some obscure tidbits of information there that would be of interest to someone working in the same field.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Then why do you want them?”
The pause that followed was just long enough for Sheryl to know the answer would be a lie. “My interest is purely academic.”
“Well, if I run across anything, I’ll give you a call.”
“Thank you so much.”
Sheryl stood at the counter with her hand on the receiver, minutes after she’d ended the call. What the hell did she have in her attic?
Faith looked Luke squarely in the eye. “Dr. Eldanis says she knows nothing. I suppose it’s possible that she’s telling the truth, but I really can’t be sure. If she hasn’t found anything of interest, then why did she enter those names into a search engine?”
“Call Jake,” Luke said. He sat beside her and juggled his two youngest children quite adeptly.
“Jake is on vacation,” Faith argued. “He hasn’t taken any time for himself in so long, I refuse to interrupt his time off simply because a woman decided to investigate the former owners of her building.”
“You don’t know that’s all it is.”
“She’s a veterinarian, Luke. I hardly think she’s following in Agnes’s and Oliver’s footsteps. But with everything else that’s going on…I just can’t be sure. I should have done those DNA tests myself. What on earth is taking so long?”
Her husband smiled at her. “We have a new baby. We have three children under the age of four. Didn’t we have this talk about delegating responsibilities months ago?”
“We did,” she said sheepishly. Her husband knew delegating was a real challenge for her.
Faith Martin Winston wasn’t about to give up her career as an epidemiologist. But she wasn’t going to give motherhood anything less than her best, either. It was hard work, balancing a career and family. Fortunately, Luke was the best of fathers. He changed diapers. He played educational games. He watched Barney.
If only she could teach him to breast-feed.
Luke leaned forward and kissed her lightly.
Faith tried to completely dismiss the conversation with Eldanis from her mind, but that was easier said than done. Why should the woman lie? And in all probability she had lied. Maybe she was covering up her nosiness because she was embarrassed to be caught snooping, but then again, it was always possible that Sheryl Eldanis was not who she claimed to be.
“She sounded so nice over the phone,” Faith mused.
Luke balanced Daniel on one knee and held his baby daughter, Emily, in the crook of one arm. Abby, his daughter from a previous marriage, their daughter now, was totally captivated by a purple dinosaur on the television. Faith loved these family moments, hectic as they might be.
“Call Jake,” Luke said once again.
It would make perfect sense to call her brother, but he so desperately needed this vacation. “I do hate to call him on his cell phone and interrupt his time off just because someone is nosing around a bunch of old information. Agnes and Oliver are dead. They’re not a threat.”
“You’re not going to call him,” Luke said. “He will be so pi—” He glanced down at Daniel, who always listened intently and had begun to repeat everything he heard. “He will be very angry with you,” he said.
Faith smiled at her husband. “I’ll call him next week, when he gets home.”
Daniel squirmed down off his father’s lap and joined his eldest sister in a dance before the television.
Her children had extraordinary talents, but Faith did her best to make sure they led normal lives. They colored and watched television and had birthday parties. And they sang and danced quite enthusiastically and, well, badly.
“You’re not getting enough protein,” Faith said, standing and kissing Luke quickly. “I’m making a pot roast for supper, and it needs tending.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “You’re not getting enough sleep,” he countered.
“It’s not my fault Emily has decided to be a night person.”
Luke stood, the baby snug in his arms, and followed her to the kitchen. “You’re not even a little bit worried about this? The NSA wouldn’t have called if they didn’t think this information was important.”
“Important, perhaps. But not urgent.”
“And yet you called this Dr. Eldanis.”
Faith turned and leaned against the counter in her state-of-the-art kitchen. “I just wanted to know why,” she said softly.
She wished she had gotten a simple explanation. The Eldanis woman had run across some old papers and gotten curious. Someone had mentioned the doctors’ names and she’d decided to do a little digging into the past. Instead of explaining the Internet search away, the veterinarian had denied all knowledge of the scientists who had once occupied her building.
“Why would Dr. Eldanis lie unless she has something to hide?”
“Call Jake and let him handle it,” Luke insisted. “You don’t need anything else to worry about.”
“I’m not worried,” she insisted. “And I will call Jake. When he gets home.”
“Stubborn woman.” Luke headed for the family room with the kids, leaving Faith to her kitchen.
It looked almost like a lab, but with spices instead of vials of vaccines and a blender instead of a microscope. She hadn’t become a good cook overnight, but with Nelda’s help she was getting there.
Finding her family so late in life was one of the reasons she treasured her sister and her brothers so. Maybe she was, occasionally, a little bit bossy, but there were times when she knew what was best for them. And Jake needed some time away from his responsibilities.
Next week would be soon enough to call Jake. Neither Wyatt, North Carolina, nor Dr. Sheryl Eldanis was going anywhere.
Waiting for DNA results that might very well link Faith and her siblings to the Caldwell triplets had Faith on edge. Now this. She had never been very good at waiting.
Luke had taught Faith patience. Waiting patiently didn’t come easily to her and neither did delegating work to others.
But she was learning. Whatever was going on with Dr. Eldanis, it could wait.
Rain moved in, ending any thoughts Hawk might’ve had about another lesson with Sheryl. Just as well. He had a feeling he didn’t have much time left here, and he needed to spend it as productively as possible. Dinner tonight had consisted of a hastily constructed sandwich, but at least Sheryl hadn’t kicked him out on his ear.
She could have. Maybe she should have.
Hawk cursed himself as a fool a hundred times as he went through the boxes in Sheryl’s attic. When he touched animals, he knew their pain, their fears, their needs. But with Sheryl he had missed all the signs that anyone with half a brain should’ve deciphered! She was skittish; she’d taken the time to build her strength
so that she was strong enough to fight back; she didn’t trust easily.
But there was enough heart left in her to allow him access to these boxes. To smile. To kiss like she meant it. And what had he done? Told her the kiss meant nothing. That she meant nothing.
He was an idiot.
“Loser,” Bruce squawked harshly.
“Yeah,” Hawk replied in a soft voice.
Most people thought he was a hard-ass. He was quiet; he kept to himself; he didn’t socialize. He preferred working with his horses to carrying on conversations with people. That, combined with his size, gave him the appearance of being unbearably gruff.
But he wasn’t completely hard. He’d do anything for his sister. He would never purposely hurt anyone, any more than he’d purposely hurt an animal. And in the back of his mind he often wondered what it would be like to have the things other men took for granted. A woman. Someone to lean on at the end of a hard day. Maybe even children.
He’d hurt Sheryl. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now… Bruce was right. He was a meathead. A loser.
Pushing the box aside, Hawk left the attic. He wasn’t seeing the print on the pages clearly anymore, so taking a break made sense. He was beginning to think he was manic about those files for no reason at all. There wasn’t anything here that would help Cassie. If there ever had been anything meaningful, it had been moved years ago. After all, who would leave important information to mold for nearly thirty years?
Sheryl sat at the kitchen table going through a stack of mail. As she had last night, she’d changed into a pair of flannel pants and a T-shirt that was a size too small. The pants were loose; the shirt was not. It molded to her body like a second skin. She seemed completely unaware of how she looked. She didn’t know she was beautiful. She didn’t know she was sexy as hell in that snug shirt and baggy pants.
She didn’t even glance his way when he entered the room, even though she knew he was there. He could tell by the sudden shift of her body, the tension that radiated off her like a Texas summer heat.
“Mind if I make a pot of coffee?” he asked.
“Help yourself.” She didn’t look up from her chore.
Hawk knew how the kitchen was arranged by now, and he quickly got the coffeemaker started. The aroma of the strong brew filled the air. Yeah, it would help him make it through the night. A few more hours, anyway.
But caffeine wasn’t going to solve this problem.
Hawk took a couple of steps toward the table where Sheryl sat, crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.
“For what?” Sheryl moved a bill to one stack, an advertisement to another. Still, she didn’t glance his way.
“You know damn well for what.”
Finally she looked at him. There was a flinty gleam in her blue eyes, but a vulnerable gentleness touched her lips. Dammit, he didn’t know what to make of her! Not now, not ever.
“That’s the rudest apology I ever heard.”
Hawk knew plenty of men who could seduce the toughest shrew with a couple of words and a false smile. Not him. Yesterday Sheryl had accused him of treating her like a horse. He wished he could do just that. He wished he could touch her mind with his, stroke her between the eyes and make everything all right.
“I understand there’s a dance tomorrow night.” The word dance almost stuck in his throat.
“Yeah,” Sheryl said softly. “So?”
“Go with me.”
Gradually the hardness in her eyes faded. A little. “Donovan, your invitations are as smooth as your apologies.”
“If you’re looking for smooth, you might as well say no.”
She returned to her bills, opening an envelope and studying the statement inside. Hawk turned away from her, willing the coffeepot to finish its job more quickly. While he stood at the counter, waiting for the coffee to be done, a soft voice finally answered.
“Dancing sounds like fun. I wasn’t here for the spring festival, but I did make it to the Fourth of July picnic. They do things up right around here. Be warned, Donovan,” Sheryl added almost ominously. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Neither am I.”
“We’ll just have to stumble through the dance together.”
Something hard and tight settled in his gut, and he wasn’t sure why. Because she’d said yes to his invitation? Did the very idea of dancing with her cause a physical reaction?
Then again, maybe it was the visual image those words put in his mind that made his stomach react. Stumbling through together.
When the coffee was done, he poured a large cup and headed for the attic. Before he’d gone far, Sheryl asked, “Need some help?”
Hawk almost said no, and then he realized that she’d just taken a step much like the one he’d made when he’d asked her to the dance. Neither of them was very good at putting themselves on the line.
“Sure,” he said. “I could use another pair of eyes.”
Sheryl surveyed the mess laid out on her attic floor and shook her head. Opened boxes filled with discarded files had been shoved to one side. Stacks of old papers were arranged here and there, amongst her own boxes and the junk she’d stored up here. It was cramped and crowded and musty.
This simply wasn’t going to work.
“I have an idea,” she said, stepping over a stack of papers Donovan had set aside.
“Any and all ideas are welcome,” he answered. She could hear the frustration in his voice, see it in the set of his mouth and the tiredness of his eyes. He’d showered and shaved at the hotel this morning, but the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw was heavy, and a bit of dust had settled in his hair.
“I’m afraid you’ve outgrown the attic. Why don’t we move the files you think might lead somewhere, and the boxes you haven’t been through yet, to the spare bedroom? The computer is right there, in case you find any new names to plug into a search engine. I can move some of my books off the bookshelf and make space for you to arrange your files.” Donovan looked so tired, she had the urge to reach out and soothe him with her hands in his hair and on his tense shoulders. He needed help. Help and a good night’s sleep.
“There’s a small bed in the room,” she continued. “If you’re going to spend the night here, you might as well sleep in a bed rather than on a hard wood floor.”
“I hate to impose.”
Sheryl laughed as she scooped up a stack of files. “Too late. You have turned my life upside down, Donovan. You’ve hypnotized my pets, ruined any reputation I might have by leaving your truck out front all night, and—” She stopped abruptly. Best not to tell him that he’d turned her insides upside down, too.
“And what?”
“You and your damn files,” she said as she headed down the pull-down stairway. “I got another phone call today.”
“From who?” he asked, suddenly intensely interested in what she had to say. He grabbed a box, tucked it under one arm and followed her down the steps.
“A Dr. Faith Winston. Apparently she’s developed an academic interest in your files.”
“What did you tell her?” Sheryl tossed her stack of files onto the bed, while Donovan placed the box he carried on the floor near the door.
“I told her I didn’t have any files.”
Donovan smiled widely. Oh, he should smile more often! The grin did things to his face—it made him look not so tough, not so forbidding. The man usually had the look of a brooding gypsy, but that smile made him look infinitely kissable.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Sheryl said. She breezed past him, heading for the attic and another load of files. “I’m sick and tired of strangers poking around my clinic. I mean, face it. If there was any important information left behind, don’t you think someone would’ve removed it from the basement before now?”
“I know it’s a long shot, but I have to try.” Donovan was no longer smiling.
Sheryl was halfway up t
he stairs. Donovan stood in the hallway directly below, no doubt watching her rear end as she climbed. Great. She should’ve made him go up first, so she could watch his rear end instead. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so suddenly and inexplicably uncomfortable.
She should’ve done a lot of things differently, especially in the past few days.
She wished she could dismiss Donovan as easily as she had Carpenter and Winston. But she hadn’t. And she couldn’t. He might not be warm and fuzzy, but he was honest. He hadn’t pretended to be someone he wasn’t.
Bruce came out of the attic, wings flapping as he descended. Sheryl was startled, since her mind had been elsewhere, and she lost her balance as the parrot brushed past her. She didn’t have far to fall, but she was prepared to land hard at the foot of the stairs, maybe tangled in the wooden ladder slats.
She didn’t. Donovan caught her with those long, strong arms that were always so steady. He didn’t even wobble as she landed against him, her back thudding against his chest, her legs flailing. With his arms wrapped securely around her, he was solid as a rock, but warm and alive.
“Are you okay?” Donovan’s arms didn’t move, but remained wrapped around her.
“Yeah, I was just…startled.” She was on her feet now, but her heart still pounded too hard. Her breath had a hard time fighting its way out of her lungs. She placed one hand over the forearm that held her steady. What should she say now? Thanks for catching me. Hold me awhile longer. Where have you been all my life?
Instead she said, “I have got to find a home for that bird!”
“He’s very smart,” Donovan answered. “Clean up his language a little and anyone would be happy to have him.”
“Spoken like someone who hasn’t known Bruce long.” Sheryl swallowed hard. She really should move away from Donovan…but she didn’t. He really should let her go. But he didn’t. He was so warm and so steady, and her body responded almost violently to being tucked in his arms. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and low in her gut she felt a warmth she had forgotten. A weight and a pulsation and a demand.
A Touch of the Beast Page 8