Fury shot across his eyes like heat lightning, dissipating almost as quickly as it had come. “Damn it, Bryce knows she’s innocent. He’s loved Mari for too long to believe otherwise.”
“Times change,” Lily said, haunted by the fact that she’d said the same thing to him a little while ago—for a very different purpose.
“Times, yes,” Ron said and walked back to her side. “People, no. Whatever else Bryce is thinking, I know that deep down, that boy is convinced of Mari’s innocence. If I didn’t believe that, I’d go crazy.”
Amazed, Lily looked up at him. “So you’re not going to call your lawyers for her?”
“Oh, I’m calling the lawyers,” he said, giving her a wicked smile. “I trust Bryce…I just don’t trust trumped-up evidence.” The smile faded, and a look of pure determination etched itself onto his features. “Somebody somewhere is going to a lot of trouble to make Mari look guilty.”
The simple clarity of that statement hit her like a load of bricks dropped on top of her head. “Oh my God. I hadn’t even considered that.”
“I’ve been thinking of nothing else lately.” He gave her a sad smile. “I hate to think that someone local is doing this to my girl. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Strange, but now that he’d said it, little wheels in her head started clicking into place. Like pieces of a puzzle, shoved around on a tabletop until finally, with happenstance, the pieces fell into the right place. “In a twisted sort of way, you’re right.”
“Thank you.”
“Hmm?” Her brain still reeling from the implications of Ron’s theory, she hardly heard him. “For what?”
Ron lifted one hand and stroked the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “For once again stepping up to bat for my family. You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”
She shrugged. “I was just—”
His thumb moved to rest atop her lips, cutting her off and silencing her completely. “Thank you.”
She smiled against his touch. “You’re welcome.”
Nodding, he let his hand drop to his side again. Blowing out a breath, he said, “I’d better be going, I guess. See you in two hours.”
She turned and watched him head for the door. “You still want to go to dinner?”
He stopped in the threshold and turned the power of his gaze on her. “I can’t help Mari by sitting at home and stewing about this on my own. And if I am at home alone, I’ll have more time to think, and that’ll just worry me more.”
“So I’m therapy, in a way?”
“You could say that.” He grinned at her, but the smile didn’t completely lift the shadows still lurking in his eyes. “After all, you did promise to de-sturdy me, remember, Ms. Cunningham?”
“I remember, Mr. Bingham.”
“Then you can start on our date.”
“On our date,” she agreed.
Funny, but the word date had never sounded so…exciting before. Even as she thought it, Lily warned herself to dial it down a notch. She could enjoy the affair she planned to have with the handsome widower. But she wouldn’t allow her heart to get all twisted up in something that wouldn’t—couldn’t—last.
A new trickle of excitement rolled through her body and smashed her defenses as his gaze dipped up and down, taking her in before finally lifting to look into her eyes again.
“Two hours.”
Then he was gone.
And Lily’s knees went so weak, she had to drop onto the edge of her desk to keep from falling.
Chapter Eight
The phone was ringing when Lily ran into her house with nothing more than a shower on her mind. She thought about ignoring the shrill ring. After all, wasn’t that why God invented answering machines?
She toed off her tennis shoes and kicked them into the corner of the living room. There’d be time enough tomorrow to put them away. Right now she needed all the time she could get to turn herself from a substitute right fielder into a dinner date.
The phone rang again, taunting her.
What if it was Mari, she thought, imagining the younger woman might very well be sitting in Bryce’s office, using up her one phone call.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lily,” she said aloud, “you’ve been watching way too much TV.” Why would Mari call Lily when she could call her father? Or her grandmother?
Yanking off her sweatshirt and already reaching behind her for the clasp of her bra, Lily counted the fourth ring and knew the machine would pick up on the fifth. She couldn’t stand it. Never had been one of those people to screen calls. It seemed so…underhanded somehow. An if-you’re-worthy-I’ll-answer sort of thing. Besides, bottom line—she simply couldn’t stand to leave a ringing phone unanswered.
Snatching it up, she said, “Hello?”
“Well, my goodness, you sound as though you’ve been running across the mountains.”
Lily grabbed her sweatshirt and held it in front of her. Not that it mattered. Myrtle Bingham, the grand dame of Binghamton, founder of the Merlyn County Regional Hospital and the Janice Foster Memorial Midwifery Clinic, and Ron’s mother, couldn’t be appalled by Lily’s outfit. But it was the principle of the thing. And Lily firmly hoped that video phones would never become popular.
“Hello, Myrtle.” She smiled as she added, “I just walked in the door.”
“Well then, good timing on my part. I wanted to speak to you about the fund-raiser you’re planning for the research facility, Lily. If you don’t mind, I’d like to know how the plans are coming along.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” she said, her brain instantly switching gears from date night back to business. Lily really liked Myrtle. A true lady in the best possible sense, Myrtle had spent her life as a philanthropist, devoting herself to both her family and to making life in Merlyn County, Kentucky, a little better.
At seventy-eight, Myrtle was a force of nature. Sweet, soft-spoken and invariably kind to everyone, the matriarch of the Bingham family had survived her share of tragedies over the years. But through it all, she’d maintained a quiet dignity and a loving nature that Lily admired and envied.
It had been Myrtle who’d begun the midwifery clinic, after one of her closest friends had died for want of good medical care. It had been Myrtle who’d cajoled and twisted the arms of old family friends into donating the money to keep the clinic well supplied. And it was Myrtle who kept on top of every little thing concerning her clinic.
“Would tomorrow suit you?” the older woman asked. “You could come to the house for tea.”
Lily smiled to herself. Tea at Myrtle Bingham’s house was only slightly less fabulous than tea at the Waldorf Astoria in New York. “That would be wonderful. I’d love to.”
“Excellent then. I’ll see you at three. Goodbye, dear.”
“Thank—” A dial tone burst into life in Lily’s ear, and she grinned at the phone. Myrtle Bingham also didn’t believe in wasting time.
Time.
Lily glanced at her watch and gulped. Five whole minutes gone. And with the shape she was in, she couldn’t afford to waste five more. Peeling her clothes off as she went, she headed straight for the shower.
When she answered the door, Ron felt his breath leave him in a rush—as if he’d been sucker punched. His gaze locked on her and he gave her a quick up-and-down sweep. Her jaw-length blond hair curved under and she had one side tucked behind her left ear. Diamond earrings flashed at him in the glow of the porch light. She wore a dark red blouse with a wide, scooped neckline tucked into a short black skirt. The high-heeled black sandals on her feet only made her tanned and trim legs look even more amazing.
Her soft, floral scent floated on the night air, just before it reached his brain and fogged it entirely.
“Hello?” She smiled at him and finished him off.
“You look—” Ron shook his head and searched for an appropriate word. “—breathtaking.”
Her smile brightened, though he wouldn’t have thought that possible.
“That was worth waiting for,” she said, and stepped onto her porch, pulling the front door closed behind her.
And with that one step, she was close. So close. He couldn’t help himself. Before he could even think about it, Ron bent and claimed a brief kiss that sent jagged bits of flame tearing through him. The slightest touch of her mouth to his was enough to engulf him in a need he hadn’t known in… Guilt pooled inside him in the space of a single heartbeat.
He’d never felt this hunger, this pull. Not even for Vi. And that admission cost him dearly. What he and Vi had shared had been…comfortable. Easy. The affection shared by people who had known each other most of their lives.
What he felt for Lily was quicksilver.
Lightning.
Heat.
And a hunger that threatened to consume him.
“Judging by your expression, I’m guessing that kiss didn’t make you as happy as you thought it would,” she said softly.
Ron sighed. “You have the annoying habit of being able to hit the nail squarely on the head every damn time.”
“It’s a gift.”
Her eyes looked luminous in the glow of the overhead bulb. Deep, dark pools of temptation. Big and brown, her eyes haunted him, waking and sleeping, and it was only with effort these days that he remembered Violet’s eyes had been blue. So dark a blue as to be almost purple. Hence, her name. He’d once thought he could live forever, just staring into Vi’s eyes.
And now, he dreamed of dark-brown eyes…so different. So alluring.
What kind of man did that make him?
“Ron?”
Lily’s voice crowded out his disturbing thoughts, and he told himself that self-examination was all well and good, but there was a time and place for it. Which this was not.
“Sorry,” he said, and forced a smile until it felt almost natural. “Wool gathering.”
“It’s been a long time since I heard anyone use that phrase.”
“I’m just an old-fashioned guy.” Truer words were never spoken, he thought, taking her hand and leading her down the steps toward his car, which was waiting in the driveway. “Your flowers look nice.”
She sighed and looked down at the cheerful pots of petunias. “They do, don’t they?”
“And this depresses you?”
“Only momentarily,” she said, resignation clear in her tone. “They’ll be dead long before we’ve bonded.”
“Well that’s looking on the bright side.”
“Oh,” she said, smiling up at him, “what’s the old saying…I’ve seen the enemy and he is me? Well, you’re looking at the world’s worst gardener.”
“Me, too,” he said on a laugh, pleased to be back on easy footing. “I was never allowed to mow a lawn. Vi used to say—” He caught himself and shut up fast. Nothing like talking about your late wife while you were out on a date with a woman you wanted to get in your bed.
Lily stopped dead and tugged at his hand to make him stop with her. Looking up at him, she met his gaze squarely before saying, “It’s okay to talk about your wife, you know.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“For heaven’s sake, Ron,” she said, “neither of us is a kid. We both have pasts. It would be foolish to pretend we didn’t.”
True. Every word was certainly true. But it didn’t change the way he felt, talking about Vi with her. It was a weird sensation. One he hadn’t had to deal with in ten years. The other women he’d seen had been—from the outset—temporary. But Lily wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever known. She sure as hell wasn’t a temporary kind of woman. Which was a damn shame, because that’s the only kind he was interested in these days.
“How’s Mari?” she asked as he opened the car door for her.
Ron stared at her. She sneaked up on a man, he thought. Never let him stay on his guard. And she cared. It had been too long since he’d been with someone who cared about what was happening in his life.
“She’s okay,” he said. “I talked to her just before I left my place. She’s home from the station. Bryce isn’t pressing charges.”
“I should hope not.”
He gave her a quick grin in appreciation of her hot defense. “Mari’s furious but, I think, more hurt than angry. She’s having a hard time coming to grips with the way Bryce is treating her.”
“Not surprising. She loved him.”
“Oh, she surely did.” Ron smiled softly and shook his head. “The only thing that was able to pry Mari from Bryce’s side was the thought of medical school.”
“I take it our sheriff didn’t approve.”
“He wasn’t the sheriff then,” Ron said, remembering back to a time that was easier, quieter. “But no, he didn’t approve. He wanted Mari to stay here and marry him.”
“Uh-huh.” Lily laid her hand on top of his. “So he felt threatened when she left—then forgotten when she came back.”
Ron’s gaze narrowed on her. He stared until she shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Are you sure you’re not psychic?”
She laughed and the sound was music. “I’m not psychic, trust me,” she said, sliding onto the butter-soft, beige leather seat of his car. “Although,” she added with a sigh as she looked around the interior of the elegant sedan, “I would have been willing to bet that your car interior would be beige.”
“Another sign of sturdyism?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, then,” he said, “doesn’t it?”
Ron closed the car door and went around to the driver’s side. He didn’t even notice he was whistling.
Lily wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. But Big Jim’s All You Can Eat Barbecue hadn’t been on the top of her list. Or anywhere on her list, for that matter. Until tonight, she’d never heard of it. Of course, it was about an hour outside of Binghamton, and she hadn’t exactly been doing a lot of exploring in the past few months.
“What do you think?” Ron parked the car, turned the engine off and stared through the windshield at the log building in front of them.
“It’s very…interesting,” Lily finally said, settling on an adjective that wasn’t a compliment or an insult. Big Jim’s was constructed of rough-hewn logs, notched at the corners of the building. It could have passed as Daniel Boone’s fort…but for the flash of brilliant-yellow neon over the double front door.
There was a wide porch, dotted with what looked like hand-carved rocking chairs, just in case a customer wanted to sit awhile. Lamplight and candlelight sparkled through the windows that spanned the length of the building, adding to the glow of neon proudly spelling out Big Jim’s name.
“Interesting, huh?” Ron chuckled and got out of the car. Walking around to her side, he opened the door for her, then helped her out of the car. “So I’m guessing you didn’t figure a sturdy man would come to a joint like this.”
“Well, I did mention that I saw hope for you.”
He grinned, and Lily’s heart did a quick two step. “So you did,” he said.
“Come here often?” Lily asked, enjoying the feel of her hand in his.
“More often than I used to.”
Which meant what exactly, she wondered. Did he come here now because Vi had hated the place? Or was this a pilgrimage visit to a place his late wife had loved and shared with him?
What does it matter? Hadn’t she been the one to say that they both had pasts? And in a county the size of Merlyn, they were bound to go places that he’d been with Vi. So why, she thought now with an inner groan, was she suddenly worried about competing with a dead woman?
“You like country music?” he asked, and closed the car door.
She plastered a smile on her face. “I’ve been in Kentucky for months. Country music won me over.”
“You’ll like the band here, then.”
A band?
This evening wasn’t turning out as she’d thought it would. When Ron invited her to dinner, Lily had assumed they’d
drive into Lexington and have drinks and a civilized meal at a four-star restaurant. Instead, they were…here.
Ron Bingham was becoming more and more of a surprise. Apparently there were far more layers to him than she ever would have guessed.
Lily ran her palms down the front of her full, black skirt, then fiddled with the collar of her dark red blouse and clutched her red leather bag. Tipping her head back, she smiled up at him. “I can’t wait.”
He studied her for a long minute, then smiled to himself. “Uh-huh.” He took her arm, threading it through the crook of his as he led the way across the gravel lot. His hand was firm on hers, keeping her steady as her fashionable, but completely useless, sandals slipped and slid on the loose gravel.
Their footsteps crunched companionably and they almost seemed to move in time to the rhythm of the music drifting from inside the restaurant.
Glancing to one side, Lily covertly took another look at the man beside her. Ron wore faded jeans and a dark-green, collared pullover shirt. His dusty brown boots looked worn and comfortable. Obviously, away from his office and his workday world he was more relaxed than she’d ever given him credit for.
He didn’t look the least bit stodgy tonight. He looked…like a cowboy.
And she felt completely overdressed. For just a second or two, she flashed back to her past and felt the old, soul-shaking sensation of not fitting in. Her scoop-necked blouse and billowing skirt were as out of place at Big Jim’s Barbecue as her too-loud charm bracelet would be in church. And yet, hadn’t she convinced herself years ago not to worry about fitting in? To be herself and let the rest of the world take care of itself?
Ignoring the noisy little voice in the back of her mind, Lily said, “It looks crowded.”
“Popular spot.” He cast her a quick, sideways look. “Not your kind of place?”
“Hard to tell without having seen it.”
“It only gets better on the inside.”
“Good.” She could tell he didn’t believe her. He was no doubt waiting for her to turn her nose up and ask him to take her to the closest French restaurant. Just as she’d expected him to take her somewhere quiet and elegant. So. Even though they’d shared a couple of amazing kisses and were contemplating a whole lot more, he didn’t know her at all. Apparently, any more than she knew him.
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