by Verna Clay
"Now why in God's name would you do that?" exclaimed Miles.
Larry gaped at Harris, his expression voicing the same question.
Harris responded, "Because I want to say something to both of you."
When Miles started backing his wheelchair toward the door, Harris said, "Dad, if you leave, you'll put a breach between us that may never heal."
Miles halted his movement.
Larry said, "Harris, I don't want to cause any trouble between you and–"
Miles interrupted, "Hah! You don't want me retaliating because you broke our contract. You don't want to have to repay–"
"Enough!" Harris exploded, and then cried out at the stab of pain in his ribs.
Both men rushed toward him.
"Should I get a nurse?" exclaimed Miles.
"I'll do it!" said Larry.
Harris recovered some of his composure. "No! I don't want a nurse. I want Larry to close the door and then both of you to listen to what I have to say."
The determination in Harris' voice must have finally penetrated his father's and birthfather's stubbornness, because Larry obediently closed the door and returned to the bedside chair. Miles remained where he was.
Harris squeezed his eyes tight and willed the pain to subside. Finally, he opened his eyes to stare at the two men who meant so much to him. Moving his gaze to Miles, he said, "Dad, you've been the best father a boy could ask for, and I love you for accepting me as your own. I couldn't have asked for a happier childhood." He moved his gaze to Larry. "And Larry, over the past weeks I've come to realize that you aren't the man you once were. You've been loyal, caring, repentant, and taken responsibility for the past. Since we met, you've never tried to be my father, but you have become my friend. And I want you to know I'm proud to call you friend." He glanced at Miles again, and although his father's expression was impassive, his eyes revealed both anger and hurt. Harris continued, "Dad, I don't expect you to agree with me, but I'm asking one thing of you." He hesitated. "I'm asking you to allow Mom and me to forgive Larry of past mistakes. You don't have to forgive him, that's your right, but please let us follow our hearts."
For long moments Miles and Harris stared at each other, and then Miles shifted his gaze to Larry. Larry suddenly found something on the floor to stare at. Miles turned his chair around and rolled toward the door. "I'll think about it," was all he said as he left the room.
After the door closed, Larry said, "Harris, I never meant for you to be at odds with your family. I'm so sorry. I think I should hit the road."
Harris grinned. "Larry, the battle's over. I know my dad. He'll think about what I said and realize it's the only answer. Beneath all that gruffness beats a heart of gold. And, as for you hitting the road; no way. I still need a driver."
Larry lifted an eyebrow. "Ah, Harris, are you forgetting your injuries? There's no need to stay on the circuit."
Harris replied, "I may not be participating in any rodeos, but I want to show up at a few to offer my support. And besides that, I have a gazillion requests from charities and service organizations to make appearances. Believe me this minor setback won't keep us sidelined."
Larry said, "Um, what you said before about me being your friend, thank you. I don't want you to ever think of me as your father, that role belongs to Miles alone. He did a great job raising you. I'm just happy that we met and you let me into your life."
Harris was starting to feel choked up and he merely nodded and changed the subject to something mundane. Larry seemed to understand and went along with the ruse.
There was a knock on the door and Lucinda peeked around it. Harris grinned and said, "Hey, darlin', is it reading time?"
"I'm a little early. I hope that's okay."
"Anytime you show up is more than okay."
Larry stood, settled his hat on his head, and said, "Guess I better go, boss. You want me to bring you anything next time I come?"
"How about a burger and fries? You might have to sneak it past the nurses, though."
"Not a problem." He tipped his hat at Lucinda as he left the room.
Chapter 26: Lips
Lucinda couldn't believe her luck. Earlier, stepping out of the elevator, she'd seen Miles Brightman entering the other one, but he'd looked so stricken and absorbed that she hadn't called a greeting. As his elevator door slid shut she suddenly got a panicky feeling. Had something happened to Harris? Had he relapsed?
She'd practically run to his room and was just about to barge through the slightly ajar door, when she heard Larry's voice. Of course, that had shocked her. Had Miles and Larry encountered each other? She wished she'd arrived a few minutes earlier. It was then that she'd heard Larry say, "Um, what you said before about me being your friend, thank you. I don't want you to ever think of me as your father, that role belongs to Miles alone. He did a great job raising you. I'm just happy we met and you let me into your life."
Lucinda had barely contained a gasp. Her gut instinct about Larry being Harris' birthfather had been right on the money. An assignment she'd once thought boringly routine was just the opposite. Not only had she entered the private life of Harris Brightman, a rodeo champion, but Maxwell Henry, his world renowned father. Lucinda had landed in a journalist's honey pot—wherein lay her dilemma. For years, journalists had been trying to run exclusives on the author and his May/December marriage to a most unlikely woman, a woman who had become a respected writer in her own right, and Lucinda was beginning to feel guilty about the exposé she was writing. Although it would plant a feather in her cap when published, she knew the family didn't want their private struggles revealed to the public.
Pushing her guilt aside, she'd knocked on the door and looked around it. "I'm a little early. I hope that's okay."
Harris had seemed extremely pleased to see her and assured her it was more than okay.
Larry had said goodbye and, at Harris' request, promised to bring a burger and fries the next time he visited. He'd tipped his hat to Lucinda as he left.
Now, Harris asked, "What are you reading today?"
Lucinda quelled her misgivings and reached into her bag to pull out a collection of poetry. "More poetry, of course."
Harris smiled, sighed, and relaxed into his pillows. "Just what I need right now."
"Difficult day?" she prodded.
"You don't know the half of it."
"Want to talk about it?"
He closed his eyes. "No. Please just read to me."
Lucinda sat beside his bed and opened the book to the first poem, Farewell, by Thomas Frederick Young.
Farewell! and know, where'er I roam,
My heart still turns to thee,
From spacious halls, or trackless woods,
Or on the foaming sea…
For the next hour Harris seemed to drift in and out of sleep, but when Lucinda closed the book and prepared to leave, he opened his eyes. "Leaving so soon?"
"I thought you were asleep."
"Not entirely."
She placed the book inside her bag and Harris said, "So, what do you think is going on between Eli and Angel?"
Lucinda treaded lightly in her response. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Harris grinned. "There's no way you've missed the tension between them. Do you think they had a lover's spat?"
"I didn't know they were lovers."
Harris reached for his water glass and Lucinda quickly came to his aid, holding the straw to his lips. He said, "My brother's been crazy about Angel since he took his first baby steps."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. And that's off the record."
Lucinda made a zipping motion across her mouth.
Suddenly, Harris turned somber. "Lucinda, I'm going to ask you to do something unexpected."
She frowned and said slowly, "And that is…?"
"I want you to kiss me."
Her eyes widened and she gaped at him. "Wh-why?"
"Because you're the most adorable woman I've ever met
and I've been thinking about kissing you for weeks."
"You're kidding."
"No. Why would you think that? Haven't you seen how attracted I am to you?"
"But-but, I'm not your type."
"Maybe not. But my heart doesn't seem to care."
"Harris, I'll be gone soon and you'll forget–"
Harris placed his index finger on her lips. "You're gorgeous, with eyes that drive me wild and lips that make me–" He paused, grinned again, and said, "I'll keep that part to myself. Now why don't you remove your glasses and kiss me. Just a light one on the lips."
Lucinda stared incredulously at him while her heart went ballistic. She knew she shouldn't do it, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own as she removed her glasses, leaned over, and touched her lips to his. Harris made an incoherent sound and reached his uninjured arm to the back of her neck, holding their lips together. Lucinda suddenly felt her heart expand and moved her mouth against his. He cupped the back of her head and the light kiss turned into something long and beautiful. She couldn't make herself move away. She lifted her own hands to the stubble on his cheeks and deepened the kiss. Finally, she broke away and leaned her forehead against his. He said, "If I wasn't laid up, you'd be in this bed with me."
Unexpectedly, the door opened and a nurse said cheerily, "Dinner time." Lucinda jerked away from Harris and the jolly nurse chuckled. "I guess you're feeling better, Harris. I'll just set this tray on your table and then the two of you can resume whatever you're doing."
Lucinda jumped to her feet. "No. Harris needs to eat." She glanced at him, "I'll come back tomorrow."
A sexy smile creased the grooves at the corners of his mouth and he winked at her. "I can't wait."
Lucinda rushed from the room and hurried down the hallway bypassing the elevator in favor of the stairs. Outside the hospital she ran until she reached her car. After she was in the driver's seat she gripped the steering wheel and moaned, "What have I done?"
Chapter 27: Help
Eli's cell phone rang and he answered by saying, "Hey, Dad, what's up?"
"Your mother gave me your manuscript and I read it."
Eli sucked a breath, "And?" His father didn't answer immediately so he thought, The story sucks. Angel was just being nice.
Finally, his dad said, "It's excellent, son! Did I make you nervous by waiting so long to answer?"
"Dad, I'm in no mood for jokes. Did you really like it?"
"Like it—no. Love it—yes. Of course, it needs editing, every manuscript does, but I took the liberty of sending it to my publisher and his reaction was the same as mine. So the only question is: Are you ready to become a published author?"
"What! You're not kidding?"
"Would I kid about something so serious? Jake said he wants to shop the story, but he has no doubt he'll find a publisher willing to pay a nice advance for a first novel. All he needs is your signature on some paperwork if you want him to represent you."
Eli was speechless for a moment but then exclaimed, "Your agent wanting to represent me is awesome!"
His dad chuckled. "Oh, and Jake wants to know if you're working on a sequel to American Spy. If so he's anxious to see what you've got."
"As a matter of fact, I am. I've got a couple of chapters written."
"Good. I was going to suggest that you turn the book into a series." He cleared his throat. "Now on to other matters: How is Harris feeling since being released from the hospital?"
"He's as ornery as ever and I'm getting sick of fetching things for him."
There was another pause before his dad asked, "Is Larry still there?"
"Yes." Eli wasn't sure if he should elaborate or not, but his dad surprised him when he said, "Good. I've had time to think about Larry and decided that your mother and brother are right. It's time to forgive the past. I don't like Larry and I hope to never see him again, but that has nothing to do with letting the past go. Is your brother nearby?"
"He's in the bedroom."
"Take the phone to him so I can ease his mind about Larry."
"Sure, Dad." Eli released a heartfelt sigh. Finally, his dad and Harris were back on the same page. He knocked on Harris' door and said loudly, "Dad's on my phone and wants to talk to you."
"Come in, bro," Harris called.
Eli entered the small RV bedroom and frowned at Harris' disheveled appearance. "You really need to shave and clean up. If you want, I can help you later." He handed the phone over.
Harris grinned. "No way. I'm looking like this on purpose. I'm hoping to convince a cute little reporter to help out this poor, pitiful cowboy laid up in bed."
Eli shook his head and thought about Angel. There was no way she hadn't noticed Harris' attraction to Lucinda. So why hadn't she made a move to counteract it?
As he left the room he heard Harris say, "Hi, Dad. I had a feeling you'd be calling soon."
Lucinda knocked on Harris' door and placed a hand over her pounding heart. Since the day they'd kissed he'd flirted with her, but hadn't made any other moves; probably because he'd lost interest. Earlier he'd phoned and insisted she come over.
He called, "The door's unlocked."
She released a breath and opened the door.
Harris was sitting up in bed with a book in his lap. He lifted it so she could read the title, Sweet Torment, and a slow smile spread across his face.
As she stepped to the edge of his bed she said, "That's your mother's first poetry book."
"Yep. I thought you could read it to me."
"It looks to me like you're perfectly capable of reading it by yourself."
"That's true, but I'd sound funny trying to imitate your voice." He patted the bed. "I'm lonely being stuck in this room. The doc says I need to stay down for a few days."
"You could have gone to your parents' home to recover."
"Would you have come with me?"
"No."
"That's why I'm still here."
He's flirting with me again. Before she could respond, Harris said, "There's another reason I asked you here."
"And what is that?"
"Eli says I look like hell and offered to help me shave, but since I'd rather ogle you than him, I asked you here to do the deed. Have you ever shaved a man?"
Lucinda nervously adjusted her glasses. "No. Never."
"Then you're about to get your first lesson."
Before she could protest, he started listing items she needed to gather. Lucinda lifted a hand to stop him. "Maybe I don't want to do this. Maybe I'm going to refuse. Maybe I think you're too bossy."
"Hmm. Since we're talking about so many 'maybes'—maybe you'll kiss me again?"
"Absolutely not. It's not a good idea. You and I live on separate planets."
Harris shrugged, which caused him to wince and moan.
The sound alarmed Lucinda. "Are you okay?" She leaned toward him.
He grinned. "Nothing that a little kiss wouldn't make better."
She jerked backward. "Tell me again the items you want."
Harris gave her his lopsided grin and repeated his list.
Five minutes later Lucinda was sitting on the side of his bed. Only this time she had a bowl of water, a washcloth, a small towel, a razor, and shaving cream. She moistened his cheeks and jaw and then slathered shaving cream over them. Good naturedly she said, "You may have won this round, but you haven't won the war."
"Are we fighting, Lucy?"
She frowned, but continued lathering his jaw with shaving cream. "You know I hate being called Lucy."
"I know. That's why I did it."
"Harris, you're incorrigible." She wiped her hands on the towel and reached for the razor. "I think I'll call you Harry."
"Don't even think about it or you'll regret it."
"Oh, yeah, what's a guy with two broken ribs and a broken arm going to do in retaliation?"
"It's not what I'm going to do now; it's what I'm going to do later."
She paused with the razor poised fo
r its first swipe and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
He raised his own eyebrow and said low, "I guarantee you'll love it. In fact, I'll love it, too."
Lucinda huffed and started shaving Harris' stubble, which stopped their bantering. The entire time, however, he never shifted his gaze from staring at her face. Finally, she wet the washcloth and gently wiped away the remaining lather. When she started gathering the razor and other items to return to the bathroom, he reached and gently forestalled her. With all seriousness he said, "I hope I didn't offend you. I apologize if I did. Sometimes my mouth gets me in trouble."
Because his apology was so endearingly honest, she lifted a hand to his cheek. "You didn't offend me."
"Prove it by kissing me."
"Harris, you and I would never work. It's better if–"
He leaned forward until his mouth touched hers.
Although moving away would have been easy, she remained motionless, and then gave in to the kiss. In her entire life, Lucinda had never been pursued by a man as handsome, fit, and famous as Harris. He was the stuff of daydreams and she knew his feelings for her were real—at least for now. Maybe the next leggy cowgirl flirting with him would be all he needed to move on. She ended the kiss and sat back. Softly, she said, "I have to go," and quickly grabbed the shaving supplies and left the room.
Lucinda felt terrible as she returned to her RV. She had betrayed Harris and he was completely unaware of it. Just the morning before she had emailed her completed article to her editor and he'd called her that evening, saying, "Kiddo, I never imagined such a routine story could become so sensational. Ya done good, so good in fact, that I'm giving you a raise and meatier assignments. You're a fine reporter, Lucy."
Although her boss's praise should have put her on cloud nine, she'd barely registered it. She'd sold Harris and his family out. But she needed this job and she was first and foremost a reporter. Harris would realize that, wouldn't he?
She stepped back into her RV where Angel was stirring a pot on the stove. Angel said, "Okay, I'm dying to know. Why was Harris so insistent that you come over?"