Cara claimed she didn’t date. No surprise there. If he were in her shoes he would be cautious around men too. She’d known more than her share of misogynist jerks. But he wasn’t like that. He adored women. He didn’t like the thought that a woman like Cara might spend her life alone. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. She should be loved.
How old is she now, he wondered, twenty-one? With her hair up she looked older and it was hard to tell. He tried to remember how old she’d been the last time he’d seen her. Seventeen, or was it eighteen? He guessed she was around twenty-one while he was almost twenty-eight. When Cara had been seventeen, the age difference had been a chasm. Now seven years seemed insignificant. She had appeared mature this morning and so confident that in fact it seemed as if there wasn’t much of an age difference between them at all.
James wondered if she was as confident as she looked or if she was putting on a show. He remembered Cara had always been good at hiding her true feelings. But the color he’d seen in her cheeks when she’d looked into his eyes wasn’t a show. That was the real deal. She’d blushed when he took her hands and she hadn’t pulled away. That alone spoke volumes.
What happened to Randy? James had no idea whether or not Cara ever told the police who had attacked her. He hadn’t gone back to find out, and he hadn’t seen Debbie again. He’d called her, ending their relationship over the phone and he’d mailed back her key. It wasn’t the most courageous thing he’d ever done, and he wasn’t particularly proud of himself. He cringed when he thought of the hurt he’d caused her, but something had shifted in that relationship and he wasn’t interested in seeing her.
Debbie had probably provided Cara with a list of psychiatrists regardless of what she thought of him, because that’s the kind of person Debbie was.
Cara hadn’t seemed plagued by anxiety this morning. Payne had thrown her a curve, but she’d carried on like a professional. James wondered what her major was. He doubted very much she was premed. She’d always been interested in art. Well, he’d do his best to find out on Saturday. He was glad there would be other people around. Their presence would keep him from coming on too strong. That was last thing he wanted to do with Cara. He remembered very clearly how fragile she’d been the night he’d left her in the hospital two and a half years before.
James turned over one book after another without focusing on a single cover. His lack of concentration frustrated him, but he knew the source. The instant he’d seen Cara this morning he felt a stirring in the very marrow of his bones.
So what if he wanted her? James had absolutely no idea how to go about getting her or even if he should. He could seduce a woman with the best of them. He’d spent years perfecting his techniques, sensing when he should hold back and when he should make a move. Understanding exactly how much to put into a kiss and how and when to leave a woman wanting more. He knew instinctively when a slow and sweet approach was called for, or if a woman just plain wanted him—now.
Every woman he’d been with had meant something to him. They just didn’t mean something to him for long. Cara was a different animal altogether. He couldn’t do that to her. Seduce her, enjoy her and move on. Like he’d warned William, she wasn’t that kind of girl. Her presence was a complication he hadn’t planned on. He was leaving for Durham, North Carolina, at the end of August to begin a Cardiology Fellowship at Duke.
Damn, he should leave well enough alone.
James returned the book to the shelf and headed towards the door. That’s when he saw it taped to the window, the poster advertising a student art show. The Body Beautiful, Watercolors by Cara Franklin. Today was the last day of the exhibit. James stared for a moment; then he abruptly tore the poster from the window and left Prairie Lights. He strode back toward the river and the bridge that led to the art building.
∗ ∗ ∗
Cara finished up with her phone calls and left the office early. She had a full afternoon of classes and she wanted some studio time. There was a face she needed to paint. The image of a man’s face was stuck in her head, James’ face. She hadn’t been able to get the sight of him leaning against the table out of her mind. She hoped if she put him on paper she could gain some perspective, put some distance between James and the direction of her thoughts. Maybe she could view him with the same clinical detachment she viewed all her subjects.
There was no disguising, even to herself, the immediate attraction she’d felt. She’d seen the same interest in his eyes. She also recognized the danger. What if she acted on her attraction? What if she opened herself up and he crushed her? What if he saw what she tried so hard to hide? That she was tainted. Dirty. What if she dropped her defenses, exposed her inner self, warts and all, and he rejected her? Cara didn’t know if she could survive that. Not with James.
What had happened with Randy was awful, but she’d moved beyond that low point in her life, at least to the extent that she could. Randy’s behavior was what she’d come to expect from men—no more, no less. Fortunately after that night, Randy had kept his distance. Besides, she’d completely stopped using drugs and last she heard, he’d moved to Omaha. The police never learned the truth and she kept her mother in the dark. Life was easier that way.
James was not just any man. He was another animal altogether. Cara cared what James thought of her to the very depths of her soul. He was a good man. He was intelligent, articulate, courageous and determined. He was beautiful in an intimidating masculine way, but she also had vivid memories of his kindness and the gentle way he’d treated her. James respected women and he deserved her trust.
On the other hand, Cara wasn’t certain she deserved a man’s kindness or respect.
Feeling her heart pound in her chest as she ran up the stairs to her apartment, Cara hoped to God she wasn’t about to have an anxiety attack. She called up her trigger word and a semi-hysterical laugh escaped her. It was James in the flesh.
She checked the clock. Damn, she needed to get a move on. Cara kicked off her shoes, tossed her skirt and blouse on the bed, and she pulled on her favorite old faded jeans with the holes in the knees and the rip in the back pocket.
When she slipped the paint splattered white tee shirt over her head her hair fell out of the twist, so she shook out the remaining pins and left it down. She grabbed her flip-flops and her backpack. Cara ran across the green grass barefoot, appreciating the feel of spring warmth between her toes. She slid into her flip-flops when she hit Market Street, trotting down the hill toward the bridge that led to the art building. She didn’t want to be late for her art history class. Cara had a brief presentation to make today.
Head down, rushing across campus, Cara tuned out her surroundings as she mentally reviewed her material. In the middle of the pedestrian bridge she banged into a hard body. Cara landed on her backside with a whomp, her pack tumbling off her shoulders.
“Sorry.” She groped for her pack. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“No problem.”
Cara knew that voice. Her head spun around and she stared up into James’ face. He grinned from ear to ear. She got to her feet in a hurry.
“I like your hair down.” He tucked a long auburn curl behind her ear. “It makes you look like you.”
Remember to breathe. Cara could feel herself blushing again. Just that slight brush of his fingers made the side of her face tingle.
“What are you doing on this side of campus?”
“Well, nice to see you too,” James replied with a laugh. “I was checking out the student art exhibit.”
“No. You weren’t. You didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did. Why? Is there something wrong with that?”
“No. It’s just that . . .” Cara stopped speaking and stared at him.
“It’s just what? That it’s your work? Is that what you’re trying to say?” He laughed again. “You weren’t so tongue-tied this morning. Is it me?” James looked directly into her eyes. “You’re staring at me. Do I have dirt on my face or some
thing?”
That her smile.
“No, it’s just that I’m, well, I’m sort of shy about my work. It’s pretty personal stuff.”
“You could say that I guess,” replied James, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You could also say it’s pretty damn beautiful stuff. I was blown away.”
Cara was pleased. “You saw the entire exhibit?”
“Yeah, I did. And I kept this.” He pulled the folded poster out of his back pocket and showed her.
It was Cara’s turn to laugh. “Thank you,” she said.
∗ ∗ ∗
James heard the warmth in her voice. It felt like a caress. Careful, he told himself. He could get caught up in the sound of her very fast. They stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other.
“I have to get to class,” Cara said at last.
James leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek. She gave a little gasp. God, she smelled heavenly, like fresh air and sunshine. “It’s good to see you again, Cara,” he whispered, his lips moving over her ear.
“You too,” she said. She sounded a bit breathless, standing there on the pedestrian bridge a moment longer than necessary. Suddenly she pulled away, slinging her pack over her shoulder. Cara jogged toward the art building.
James leaned against the rail, looking after her. Just before she entered the building she turned. She seemed surprised that he was still there, but she waved and then disappeared inside.
She had him. He was caught, thrashing helplessly like a fish on a hook. All Cara had to do was reel him in and she didn’t even know it. He’d looked at her paintings and it was as if he’d seen her soul on display. Everything her eyes shielded from the public was as clear as day in her work. She spilled her secret heart onto canvas, or whatever it was one called watercolor paper. Her feelings of lingering despair and loneliness were evident, but at the same time the paintings made him aware of her strong sensual nature, her natural vivacity and the powerful energy she buried deep inside. Cara’s interior world was filled with pain, true, but in contrast to the obvious pain, her paintings teemed with color and light and hope. The dichotomy was fascinating. It’s probably why she’d merited her own exhibit.
James had never been more physically and mentally aware of a woman in his entire life. He prayed there was a chance Cara might reciprocate. He dismissed the doubting voice in his head, the voice insisting this could end badly. He would do his best to see that it didn’t. James wasn’t completely clear about what he wanted, but there was no question that it was more than a one-night stand. He most definitely wanted more than a one-night stand with Cara.
∗ ∗ ∗
Once her classes were done for the day, Cara painted. She chose acrylics because she wanted more vibrant colors and if she messed up her work she could always fix it. She became so caught up in portraying the light she’d seen in James’ eyes that she couldn’t leave the studio until she’d managed to capture it to her satisfaction.
She loved his golden brown eyes. She loved the way the pupils enlarged, nearly covering that golden brown expanse when he saw something he liked, or when he was aroused or angry about something. She’d seen him upset and angry before—the night he’d brought her to the hospital. She’d seen his eyes today, twice.
The crinkles that appeared in the corners of his eyes when his mouth turned up in that devilish grin of his fascinated her. She smiled to herself as she painted, remembering the deep, warm, round tones of his laughter. Cara wasn’t much into life drawing although she’d included some charcoal sketches in her exhibit. She preferred abstract. This painting of James would be an abstract, aside from the eyes.
By the time Cara cleaned up her brushes and her work area, it was quite late. She wasn’t afraid to walk home in the dark. The campus was busy with students finishing projects, papers, taking tests. Someone was always around. Cara preferred the dark. She needed to examine her feelings about James and she didn’t want a single thought exposed on her face.
Cara remembered back to that winter night two and a half years ago, the night James had rescued her. He not only saved her life, he seemed to care about what had happened to her. She remembered his words to her. It’s never been your fault. Men aren’t supposed to do that to women. Men aren’t supposed to frighten you or beat you or rape you. Men are not supposed to force you to have sex with them. Nobody is supposed to do that to you. Do you hear me? Nobody has the right to do that to you.
Something changed between them that night. Cara wasn’t quite sure what it was at the time, but James had become very important to her and not just as her trigger word. He was her ideal. If she ever decided to be with a man again, she’d want the man to be like James. In all honesty, she was forced to admit to herself that she’d want the man to be James. The problem was a man like James could have anyone, any woman he wanted. Why on earth would he want her? Yet she couldn’t deny the overt interest she’d seen in his eyes. No, Cara couldn’t deny the truth of that.
She’d learned the signs long ago. She knew when men were interested and she’d steered clear of that interest for over two years. She guessed she was pretty enough, at least Jeanie said she was, but being pretty was beside the point. The point was trust. Cara was terrified she’d do something she would regret, as she’d always done in the past.
Cara didn’t regret the time she spent with Rick, but she had never fully recovered from its aftermath. That episode was an indelible part of her now and it colored every decision she made. Just like David Walker was a part of her. Though the man had moved away long ago, she still carried him deep inside.
What if James touched her and she ran from him? What would he think of her then? That she was crazy?
Cara realized she’d already felt his touch a number of times and his touch hadn’t hurt. His hands had soothed and comforted her two and a half years ago, just as they had today. James’ touch made her want things she had no right to want.
Cara reached the door to her house. She climbed the stairs and switched on the light in her apartment. She’d forgotten to eat all day so she heated up some leftover tomato soup and threw a handful of grated cheddar cheese into it. She dropped a slice of whole wheat bread into the toaster, then walked the few steps into her bedroom and opened all the windows while she waited for the toast to pop up. The day had been warm and humid, but the night felt cool. Cara loved to leave her windows open, let the breeze drift over her at night. The toaster made a clicking sound and Cara returned to the kitchen. She sat at the small wooden table to eat her supper, preoccupied with thoughts of James. She brushed her teeth and took a quick bath.
Cara climbed into her bed and lay down below the windows. The night was dark, the breeze pleasant, yet sleep wouldn’t come. Restless, that’s how Cara felt. Restless, wired, aroused. Her stomach churned with anticipation, as if it knew something she didn’t. Cara tossed the sheet away and stood beside the bed. Other than the chirping of crickets the night was quiet. From an open window somewhere nearby, Cara heard a brief burst of female laughter. She listened to see if it would be repeated, but there was only silence.
Cara slipped out of her room and padded down the stairs. She opened the front door, propped it open with a rock, then hopped off the front porch and ran into the park beyond. The tender grass felt cool and springy against her bare feet. Filled with a sudden burst of energy, she skipped from one corner of the park to another until she collapsed onto her back into the soft grass, laughing. Something was coming. She could sense it. She could smell it in the soft night breeze as it drifted past. Something was definitely coming.
The screening on Saturday went well. Better than Cara expected. The three doctors arrived early. The drive was uneventful. Dr. Payne didn’t speak to Cara any more than was absolutely necessary, although William Donovan flirted shamelessly. James, on the other hand, sat in silence, gazing out the window.
Halfway to Pella they came to a stop at a railroad crossing and he caught her eye. He smiled and he
r heart skipped a beat. Then he turned his face back to the window. Cara did the same, but a corner of her mouth twitched and she nearly laughed as she’d done the night before in the park. The same anticipation she’d felt then was coiled in the pit of her stomach like a snake waiting for the right moment to strike.
As she always did at screenings, Cara set up a table near the entrance stocked with pens, screening forms and permission slips. She greeted participants with a reassuring smile. She helped them complete the forms, channeling them on to the nurses for vital signs. From there they moved to the phlebotomist for the blood draw and finally on to the three doctors so they could ask their questions and receive information about the cholesterol lowering project. Although James kept his voice quiet, as she worked Cara listened for it above the hum of all the other voices in the room. He sounded confident, smooth, soothing, reassuring. Cara could tell James was already a very good doctor. At least he had the bedside manner down pat.
The participants had been asked to fast before the blood draw. Cara and the other student assistant, Katie, made sure to provide orange juice, coffee and fruit afterward. The student assistant who’d held the position before Cara had always brought doughnuts. When Cara took over she told Jeanie that she considered doughnuts in the same room with information about a cholesterol lowering medication a bit of an oxymoron. Jeanie had just laughed and told her to bring whatever she thought was appropriate, so Cara had run with that and for two years they’d provided fresh fruit.
When the screening ended and the last patient had gone, James and William helped pack up. Dr. Payne grabbed the medical literature they’d brought and took it with him to one of the vans. Cara noticed him fidgeting in the back seat while the rest of them finished their tasks. The phlebotomists and the nurses made certain the blood samples were safely stored on ice for the ride home. Cara and Katie folded the chairs, while James and William carried the tables back to the closet in the VFW hall. Finally the vans were packed up. Cara decided to ride in the van Dr. Payne was not in and James followed her. William trailed after James, grimacing when he realized there was no room for him.
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