by Linda Turner
“What is it?” he asked huskily when she stiffened. “What’s wrong?”
If her life had depended on it, she couldn’t have told him. Her thoughts scrambled and her pulse pounding, she was sure she had to be having some kind of breakdown. That was the only explanation. Dan was her friend, just a friend. Oh, he still teased her about going out on a real date, but he was just joking. She knew how much he’d loved Peggy—she’d felt the same way about Gus. There could never be anyone for either one of them but the spouse they’d each lost.
So why, she wondered wildly, was her heart pounding like a runaway train just because she’d slipped her arm around him? What was going on? What was wrong with her?
“Sara? Are you all right? You look a little flushed.”
Suddenly realizing she was staring at him as if she’d never seen him before, she felt heat pour into her cheeks and wanted to sink right through the porch steps. “It’s nothing. I’m just worried about you. C’mon, let’s get you inside.”
Focusing on the task at hand, she kept a firm arm around his waist and urged him up the steps. It wasn’t easy. There were only four steps, but after each one, he had to stop and rest. By the time they reached the top one, he was as pale as a ghost and dripping sweat.
Worried, she said, “I should call one of the boys. Joe can be here in two minutes—”
“No, I’ll make it,” he huffed, winded. “Let’s go.”
Stubborn as a mule, he made it the rest of the way to the guest room without stopping to rest, only to collapse when they reached the bed. Wanting to shake him for insisting on coming and furious with herself for giving in to him, Sara helped him under the covers, scolding him all the while. “You old fool. What are you doing? Trying to prove you’re some kind of Superman? Look at you. You can’t even hold your head up.”
“Your cheeks are pink again,” he pointed out, not the least perturbed by his weakness. “Just like a girl’s. No wonder Gus fell in love with you the second he laid eyes on you. You must have been something to see.”
Flustered, she didn’t know if she wanted to thank him or berate him for bringing up Gus’s name. “No, he was the one who was something to see,” she said, and tried to steady her pounding heart with the image of Gus at eighteen and that day she’d met him just two weeks after her family had moved to town. She could see him as clearly now as she had that fateful day, but when her pulse continued to race, she was forced to admit that it wasn’t for Gus.
Confused, alarmed, she stepped hastily away from the bed. “I—I’ve got s-some chores to do, and you need to rest. I’ll check in on y-you in a little while.”
Leaving a bell on the nightstand for him to ring if he needed her, she rushed out and hurried down the hall, her cheeks flaming. Her imagination was just playing tricks on her, she told herself desperately. It wasn’t his closeness that had set her heart pounding. She was just worried about him, that was all. That was all it could be, she assured herself and tried to believe it. But as she strode into the laundry room to put a load of laundry in the washing machine, she couldn’t stop thinking about how right it had felt to hold him close.
“Reilly! I’m so glad you’re here. Dan’s in the guest room. C’mon, I’ll show you the way.”
Her smile just a little too bright, Sara opened the front door to him and pulled him inside, chattering about Dan’s condition as she led Reilly through the family room to the short hall that led to the guest room. “He was very tired when I brought him home this morning, but he’s rested all day. Janey’s in with him now. I was just about to bring him his supper. Have you eaten? Can I get you anything?”
“No…thank you. I had something at Ed’s.”
“I was going to offer you dessert, but if you ate at Ed’s, I bet you had chocolate pie,” she said, smiling. With a wave of her hand, she motioned him toward the open doorway to the guest room. “Go on in. I’ll be right back.”
She hurried off to the kitchen, leaving him to step into the bedroom alone, where he found Janey taking Dan’s pulse. “So how’s our patient doing?” he asked, arching a brow at the two of them. “Resting, I hope.”
“How could I do anything else?” Dan grumbled with a weak smile. “Sara took the remote so I couldn’t watch TV, then gave me this awful magazine about doing your own income tax. I’ve been so bored, I had to sleep just to have something to do.”
Chuckling, Janey patted his hand. “Just think, Dan. Only six more weeks of this, and you can go back to work.”
When he groaned, Reilly laughed and stepped over to the bed to examine him. “Don’t look so down in the mouth. Give it another couple of days, and Sara will let you watch TV. I promise.”
“Did I hear my name mentioned?” Sara said as she strode in with Dan’s dinner tray. “He’s been complaining about the TV again, hasn’t he? Who would have guessed he was such a baby?” Shaking her head, she deposited the tray on the nearby dresser while Reilly finished his examination. “I’m just following doctor’s orders.”
“Oh, really?”
Caught red-handed, Reilly grimaced when the older man shot him a narrow-eyed look. “Now, Dan—”
“You took him on as a partner because he was the best,” Sara reminded Dan as she moved to the foot of the bed to straighten the covers. “You can’t complain now because he’s doing his job.”
Put that way, there wasn’t much he could say. “Well, no, I guess I can’t,” he growled. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
When he sat there sulking like a two-year-old, Reilly expected Sara to smile. Now that the surgery was past, and Dan was obviously well enough to complain, she shouldn’t have been so worried about him. But she was definitely nervous about something. She fussed around the room, straightening things, never staying in any one place for long. Her smile was forced, her cheeks pale, her body language decidedly stiff.
Glancing over at Janey, Reilly saw that she, too, was watching her mother, and she was as concerned as he by what she saw. Frowning, she started to ask her what was wrong, then obviously thought better of it. Glancing away, her eyes met Reilly’s and he motioned for her to step out into the hall.
“Do you think this is too much for your mother?” he asked quietly when she joined him. “She seems awfully skittish.”
“I know, and I don’t understand it. She’s been this way ever since I got home from work. At first I thought something was wrong with Dan, but you examined him. He’s doing fine.”
Reilly couldn’t argue with that. His partner was, in spite of the weakness that was a natural result of the surgery itself, doing much better than he’d expected. “Maybe it’s the pressure of taking care of him all day by herself,” he suggested. “She’s not used to having that kind of responsibility on her shoulders, and it could be more of a strain than she expected.”
“But she doesn’t usually let things like this rattle her,” Janey replied in a low voice that wouldn’t carry into the bedroom. “Zeke nearly cut off a toe with a chainsaw when he was a teenager, and she was as calm and cool as an E.R. nurse. She didn’t even break into a sweat.”
“Then what do you think’s wrong? Maybe I should talk to her.”
“No, I—”
“What are you two whispering about out there?” Dan suddenly called grouchily from the bed. “If there’s something wrong, I want to know about it.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Reilly assured him as he stepped back into the bedroom. “Janey and I were just discussing—”
“The decorating committee,” she supplied quickly, following him into the room. “There’s a meeting tonight, and I was planning to go, but Mom’s probably tired—”
“I am not!”
“But—”
“No buts,” Sara said firmly. “I’m fine. Since Dan’s be ing such a baby about the TV, though, I was wondering if it’d be okay for him to watch his favorite cop show. If that’s okay with you, Reilly. It’s only an hour, then we’d both turn in early.”
“I do
n’t think one hour’s going to hurt anything.”
Pleased, she said, “Good. So there’s no need for Janey to stay home and baby-sit the old folks—”
“Hey, speak for yourself!” Dan yelped.
Her blue eyes suddenly sparkling with amusement, Sara struggled not to smile. “I beg your pardon—I stand corrected. There’s no need for you to stay home and baby-sit the older generation.” Glancing at Dan, she arched a delicate brow. “How’s that?”
“Much better,” he said with a grin.
“So you see,” she told Janey, “I’ve got everything under control here, dear. And the decorating committee could use your help. The festival’s only a week and a half away, and with both Dan and me out, they’re really shorthanded. I think you should go.”
Put that way, Janey really couldn’t see that it was necessary for her to stay home. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“I could go with you, if you like,” Reilly said impulsively. “Then you wouldn’t have to drive all the way into town and back by yourself.”
Later, Reilly couldn’t have said where the suggestion came from. It just popped out of his mouth. He hadn’t given any thought to going to the committee meeting tonight—he’d worked a long day and had planned to spend the rest of the evening catching up on his reading. But he had enjoyed himself the other night—up until the moment Dan had his heart attack—and the more he thought about spending the rest of the evening alone, the less the idea appealed to him.
Surprised, Janey hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t mind going by myself.”
“No, I’d like to go,” he said, and meant it. “I was just going to go home and read. I can do that anytime. Unless,” he added quickly, “you’d rather go alone.”
“Oh, no. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to go just because I was. This kind of thing must seem pretty tame to you after L.A.”
“Actually, I enjoyed it more than I expected,” he admitted. “I really would like to go.”
“Then I’ll get my coat.”
They discussed whose car to take, finally deciding on Reilly’s as they skirted around each other’s feelings like two skaters who suddenly found themselves sharing thin ice. And they didn’t even seem to realize it. But Sara and Dan did, and as the younger couple wished them good-night and left for the meeting, they waited only until they heard the front door close before they both turned to each other and smiled broadly.
“That just made my day,” Sara said, pleased. “Do you think they realize what’s going on?”
Chuckling, Dan shook his head. “I don’t think either one of them has a clue.”
Chapter 6
“You like Dirty Harry? And the Star Wars series? You’re kidding!”
“Why? I think Clint Eastwood and Luke Skywalker are kind of cute. What’s so odd about that?”
“You mean other than they’re from different galaxies and their movies are set in time periods that are light-years apart?”
Her grin lighting her face, Janey chuckled as she enthusiastically slapped paint on yet another booth for the festival. “Yeah. So one used a .357 and the other a light-saber. They fought the bad guys and won. I like that.”
His own painting forgotten as he watched her smile light up her eyes, Reilly couldn’t help but grin. The lady was something else. She had a dab of red paint on her cheek, tendrils of her hair had slipped from the confining knot she’d scraped it back into and what little bit of makeup she wore had faded hours ago. Another woman might have rushed to a mirror to repair the damage, but Janey only pushed her hair back out of her way with the back of her hand, scratched her nose, inadvertently adding another smidgen of paint to the one on her cheek, and never once reached for her lip gloss.
And she had no idea how refreshing that was to him. Oh, the women in L.A. who had spent the past eight months chasing him had worn paint, too, only theirs had been war paint, the kind a woman painted on when she was on the prowl. Janey, like the movie heroes she liked, was, thankfully, from a whole different galaxy.
“Then you must like Indiana Jones, too,” he said. His lips twitching with amusement, he added nonchalantly, “He’s a relative of mine, you know.”
Startled, she glanced up quickly from her painting. “You’re related to Harrison Ford?”
“No. Indiana Jones. Jones,” he stressed, grinning. “Get it? His father and mine were brothers.”
Groaning, she rolled her eyes. “Cute, Doctor.”
“Thank you. I like to think I am.”
“And modest, too,” she added dryly. “How do you stand being so wonderful?”
Pretending to consider it, he confided, “You know, it’s not easy. But everyone’s got their cross to bear in life. I do what I can.”
He spoke so earnestly that for a moment Janey thought he was serious. Then she caught sight of the self-deprecating twinkle dancing in his blue eyes. Laughing, she licked her index finger and marked an imaginary point in the air. “Score one for you, Doctor. That was good.”
Chuckling, he said, “Like I said. I do what I can.”
They turned their attention back to their painting, and Janey couldn’t believe how much work they were able to accomplish together. She’d worked on the decorations for the Christmas festival for years and always enjoyed it—but never like this. And it was all due to Reilly. He was a different man from the brooding one she’d met when he’d first moved to town, and it was impossible for her not to like him. Laughing and joking, they painted decorations and never ran out of things to talk about.
Caught up in a spirited conversation about who was the best president of the last century, they never noticed the passage of time or when, by unspoken agreement, the rest of the committee members started putting away their paints and cleaning brushes. Then, suddenly, people reached for their coats and jackets and called good-night to each other.
In the process of explaining why he thought Nixon deserved to make the list of best presidents, despite Watergate, Reilly suddenly noticed that the place was clearing out fast. “Hey, it looks like it’s time to lock up shop.”
Surprised, Janey glanced up from her painting and gasped. “My God, is it ten o’clock already? Where did the time go?”
Reilly wondered the same thing. It seemed they’d only been there a few minutes, when, in fact, it had been three hours! Later he was sure he would have to give that some thought, but for now they had to get out of there. “I guess we’d better clean up and get out of here before they turn out the lights on us,” he said. “Why don’t you put the paint away while I clean the brushes?”
Quickly setting everything right, they grabbed their coats from the cloak room and hurried toward the front door, only to find Hap Clark waiting for them with a rueful grin on his face. The mayor of Liberty Hill and holder of the keys to the VFW hall, he couldn’t lock up until everyone was out. “I was beginning to wonder if you two were going to talk politics until midnight. Did you ever come to a decision on Nixon?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Chuckling, he followed them outside. “I thought as much. If you need a deciding vote, I vote for Truman. Now there was a president!”
They hadn’t even considered Harry, and that started another discussion that could have easily lasted another hour. Unfortunately, they ran out of time when they reached the ranch fifteen minutes later.
Disappointed, Janey would have liked to continue the discussion over a cup of coffee and some of her mother’s apple pie, but it was already going on ten-thirty, and they both had to work the following day. Like it or not, the evening was over.
When he braked to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house, Janey turned to thank him for the great conversation and the ride, but before she could even open her mouth, her eyes met his in the glow of the porch light, and everything seemed to change. Something shifted on the night air, something rare and elusive that she’d never experienced before, and suddenly, without warning, her heart was pounding and she
couldn’t seem to breathe properly.
In the sudden, hushed silence, she tried to tell herself that her imagination was just playing tricks on her. But Reilly felt it, too. She watched his smile fade, his eyes sharpen with sudden awareness, and just that quickly, tension throbbed between them. Her pulse skipping crazily, Janey couldn’t have said how long she sat there, caught in the cool heat of his blue eyes, her mind a complete blank. It could have been seconds, minutes, eons. Then, she realized she was staring at him as though she’d never seen a man before, and hot color flooded her cheeks. What in the world was wrong with her?
Mortified, she jerked her gaze free of his and quickly grabbed her purse, looking anywhere but at him. “Thank you for the ride. And for going tonight. We got a lot done.”
“I enjoyed it. I was glad I could help.”
In the hushed quiet that surrounded them, his voice was rough and seemed to reach out and stroke her like a caress. Goose bumps sliding down her spine, Janey fumbled for the door handle with fingers that were anything but steady. “I h-have to g-go, now,” she stuttered. “G-good night.”
She was out of the car like a shot, hurrying up the steps to the porch like the hounds of hell were after her. Reilly, always the gentleman, would have escorted her to the front door and unlocked it for her, but she didn’t give him the chance. Jamming the key into the dead bolt, she sent the door flying back on its hinges. A split second later, she stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind her…and never knew that Reilly stared after her like a man who’d suddenly been struck in the head with a rock.
Soundlessly turning off the TV in the guest room with the remote, Sara glanced over at Dan to ask him how he’d liked the show, only to smile tenderly when she discovered he was slumped against his pillow and already sound asleep. Foolish man, she thought fondly as she rose from the easy chair in the corner and quietly crossed to the bed to check on him. For most of the day she’d been telling him he was trying to do too much too soon, but he’d always been so stubborn. And now he’d tired himself out. Maybe tomorrow he’d listen to her.