Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her PastA Real Live HeroIn Her Corner

by EMILIE ROSE

  “In a second, buddy,” she responded. “You’re spoiled rotten.” She returned the skunk to its enclosure.

  “I can’t remember not having pets. On a farm they’re everywhere. Learning to care for them was part of growing up and learning responsibility.”

  A trio of mangled, scarred cats wound around Madison’s ankles, demanding her attention. One was missing an eye. Another had partially chewed-off ears. Madison picked up the first cat, nuzzled it and talked nonsense to it, then she put it down and went onto the next.

  When Madison finished with the felines she spent a few minutes with the guinea pig, then crossed to a stall door on the left side of the building. He wasn’t sure what he expected on the other side of the wooden gate, but the knee-high goat was a surprise. She petted him, and he rewarded her with a series of comical jumps and twists in the air. A goat doing tricks. Now he’d seen everything.

  “Why a goat?”

  She checked the trough and water bucket. “Ned peed on his previous owner’s vehicles. They hit him with a baseball bat to knock him off the car and broke his front leg. They were ready to give him to the migrant workers for grilling. But he has so much personality I couldn’t let that happen. Plus, he’s pretty good at keeping my fence lines weeded.”

  She was more relaxed, showering affection on her “critters” than he’d seen her to date. On her turf she was a country girl in her element. But if this was the girl his brother had fallen in love with, why had Andrew tried to turn her into something else?

  She left the goat to check on the horse he’d noticed on his first visit. The horse received the same TLC the others had. “Is he somebody’s reject, too?”

  “Yes. Right after I moved here one of Dr. Jones’s clients asked me to euthanize him. The husband and wife had lost their jobs and couldn’t afford to keep Bojangles. They’d tried to sell him, but he was undernourished, needed some medical care and wasn’t very attractive. I couldn’t destroy him without giving him a chance. Then I realized how much I missed riding and adopted him.”

  “Dad mentioned transference. What was he talking about?”

  She bit her lip and hesitated, then shuffled, fussed and fidgeted. “In my case, the animals I rescue are substitutes for the loved ones I couldn’t save. Each of my pets is a castoff or an orphan.”

  The ones she couldn’t save? Andrew? Her baby? Her family?

  And then it hit him. This mismatched group of castoff pets was her family, and she’d genuinely missed them when she’d been in Georgia, and like a parent, she needed to hug each “child.” Clearly each animal had missed her, too, and greedily lapped up the affection.

  What would it be like to have that kind of welcome when he came home? He might never know. With his long hours it wouldn’t be fair to have a pet. Eventually, he’d like to have a wife and children who’d race to meet him at the door the way he and Andrew once had their father. But he’d yet to meet anyone who interested him more than his work.

  One thing was certain. A woman who nurtured this barn full of misfits was not capable of turning her back on her own child. His brother hadn’t exaggerated about Madison’s emotional detachment.

  Andrew had flat-out lied.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MADISON LATCHED BOJANGLES’S stall door and took another look around, soaking up the scents and the comfort of coming home.

  She would never admit it to Adam, but during the last ten minutes of tonight’s flight she’d doubted she’d ever see this old barn or her critters again. She hadn’t been that scared since the night of the car accident, when she’d been waiting for the ambulance and praying their injuries weren’t as bad as she’d suspected.

  Fear had taken over her brain in those last turbulent eons of the flight, and she’d wondered if she’d die alone and if anyone would miss an old maid with only a farm full of strays for family. Piper and June would be upset for a little while. But in the long run, would the world be any different because she’d been here?

  No. Sad fact.

  Given her gloomy mood, she dreaded being alone in the house with Adam. He was smart, ambitious and cared about his parents—everything she’d found appealing in Andrew, without his negative qualities. Watching Adam’s face when Wilbur had purred his approval over being petted had been like watching a boy open birthday presents. Endearing. Adorable.

  But just because Adam was handsome and had a knee-weakening boyish smile didn’t make him an eligible partner. It didn’t matter that he was calm in a crisis and had strong, steady hands on the yoke of the bucking plane. He was not Mr. Right or even Mr. Right-This-Minute.

  If only his touch didn’t electrify her... If only he didn’t have adorable crinkles around his eyes when he smiled... If only her pulse didn’t skip when their eyes met... If only she didn’t ache to be held tonight, to have someone make her not feel so alone and insignificant.

  She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go there. The temporary fix wouldn’t be worth the long-term hassle.

  She’d come out to the barn to escape and count her blessings, never expecting Adam to insist on accompanying her. So much for peace, quiet and regrouping. But they couldn’t stay here all night. They both had to get up early tomorrow.

  “Time to get wet again.” She dashed out of the shelter without waiting for a response. She sensed more than heard him behind her in the heavy downpour.

  He stopped beside her on the porch. His hood had fallen off during the sprint and water beaded in the dark strands. He sluiced the rain from his face, then shoved a hand through his damp hair. It spiked in every direction. He looked deliciously disheveled and attractive, like a man fresh from the shower. She shut down that wayward, rabble-rousing thought.

  He reached for her and she froze, heart stalling, lungs seizing. Anticipation burst through her veins. Only, instead of grabbing her, he reached past her and snagged a piece of paper that had been stuck to the freezer behind her. She hadn’t noticed the sticky note on their first trip inside.

  She wasn’t disappointed. She wasn’t.

  “‘Madison,’” he read. “‘Thanks for helping with Red. We made peach ice cream this week, and I know it’s your favorite. I left some in your freezer. Bill and Sue.’” He looked at her, one eyebrow hiked.

  “Sweet.” She pulled open the door and spotted the newest of several dishes that didn’t belong to her. The fast-food dinner they’d eaten en route to the airport was long gone. Maybe a scoop or two of ice cream would soothe her unsettled stomach. On second thought, if she ate it now she’d have to offer some to Adam, and that meant more of his company. Not a good idea. She shut the door.

  “People come onto your back porch while you’re not at home and leave food in your freezer?”

  “Yes. I realize that might sound strange by Norcross standards, but it’s the country way. I often get paid in food, services or IOUs.”

  “You make it sound like you’re not in this profession for the money.”

  The idea surprised a laugh out loud from her. If only he knew how fine a line she walked every month with her budget. When she had both rental houses occupied she had a little more wiggle room. “Hardly. I’m fortunate that I had grants and scholarships, and then my parents’ life insurance policy to pay for college. I don’t have student loans hanging over me. Otherwise, I’d be in trouble.”

  “You have a pattern of living off life insurance payouts.”

  She stiffened at the implication. “I used both my parents’ and Andrew’s to invest in my future. I didn’t go on cruises or party it all away. Andrew’s life insurance paid for my farm and my practice.”

  He studied her through narrowed eyes, then the assessment morphed into approval that warmed her to her core. Seconds later the kinetic connection she’d felt in the office before the kiss returned. Goose bumps lifted her skin. If she was smart she’d hurry to her roo
m and put the barrier of a solid wood door between them.

  She pivoted abruptly, hung her dripping rain slicker on a peg outside the back door and reentered the house. “You can have the bathroom first.”

  “Thanks.” He’d hung up his coat, as well.

  She stepped into her bedroom. He walked past and she pushed the panel shut and walked to the window overlooking the side yard. The area light in the barn gable cast enough of a dim glow for her to see there were no new branches down and no wiggling baby squirrels on the ground. She had nothing to keep her from lying in that bed and thinking about the emptiness threatening to engulf her.

  But if she felt alone and disconnected she had no one but herself to blame. She kept people at a distance and had chosen not to open herself up to even the possibility of another romantic relationship. The decision to guard her heart had not come without consequences.

  She flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. She knew every noise this old house made, which meant it was all too easy for her to pick up the sound of Adam moving around the guest room, and then as he made his way to the bathroom between their rooms. He opened and closed the cabinet. Water sang through the pipes. The shower curtain scraped along the metal rod then back again. She hadn’t had a man in her shower since she’d moved in. A mental image of Adam naked bloomed in her mind. She closed her eyes and groaned.

  Down hormones. Down.

  Danny. Think about Danny. He had a struggle ahead, and Helen faced a tough road as his caregiver.

  But instead of her former in-laws, she saw Adam’s laughing face and the surprise lighting his eyes when his father had shared his story of slipping in a poodle puddle and splitting his head open on an exam table. Danny had confessed he’d been so embarrassed he’d begged his vet tech to stitch him up rather than take him to the E.R. And he’d forbidden anyone to tell Helen, because he hadn’t wanted to worry her.

  Helen and Danny had always had the kind of relationship Madison envied. They’d been friends as well as husband and wife, with never a harsh word spoken. But something had changed in the past six years. Had Danny’s diagnosis caused the gulf between them? Or had it been going on longer than that? Since Andrew’s death? If so, Madison had another log of guilt to pile on her fire.

  The water shut off with a clank. She pictured Adam, wet and naked, stepping from behind the shower curtain. Her stomach dropped faster than it had when they’d hit air pocket after air pocket during the turbulent flight. What was wrong with her?

  The problem was she liked and respected Adam more than she ever had Andrew. With Andrew she’d been blindly, stupidly in love. She’d seen his flash and charm and totally missed his lack of substance. She’d admired his ambition, not realizing that he undermined others to achieve his goals.

  She’d awakened slowly to Andrew’s personality quirks, but by then she was married to him and that meant she’d do her best to make the relationship work. She’d vowed she would never emulate her mother and seek affection elsewhere.

  Not a memory train she wanted to ride.

  The bathroom hinges creaked and the shifting floorboards marked Adam’s return to his room. She rubbed her burning, churning belly. The discomfort had to be a cry for food. Didn’t it? She’d never be able to sleep with all that irritation. She needed a snack. Shower first or ice cream?

  She couldn’t handle the idea of stepping into a stall still warm from Adam’s steam. Ice cream won. But for insurance’s sake she’d give Adam five more minutes to get to bed before venturing out. She rose and moved around the room by rote, putting her damp clothes in the hamper, changing into her shorty pajamas and going through her usual nighttime routine. Silence descended, broken only by the rain on the roof and the wind whipping along the eaves, making the old house pop and settle.

  Then time was up. She pulled on her robe. Praying the wet weather wouldn’t make the door swell and stick, she wrapped her fingers around the crystal knob, twisted gently and opened the panel. Whew. No scrape. She stepped into the hall and came face-to-face with Adam exiting the bathroom.

  Every cell in her body snapped to attention. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the urge to trace the curve of his pectorals, to tease the tiny buttons of his nipples, hit her viscerally. She yanked her attention from that taboo territory to his blue eyes.

  His gaze held hers for the briefest of moments, then burned a path from her head to her feet, making her wish she’d kept on her damp scrubs. She curled her bare toes into the floor, pushed back her hair and scrambled to find a way to escape before she made a mistake she couldn’t undo. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

  “I left my watch and cell phone in the bathroom. I need an alarm.” He lifted a hand, displaying both. The action made his thick biceps contract. Her abdominal muscles did the same.

  “I don’t have a clock in the guest room, do I?” she blabbered, and could have kicked herself for being an idiot.

  “No.”

  “Sorry.” Her mouth was dry. Her pulse pounded against her eardrums.

  “No problem.”

  Neither of them moved. “The um...storm’s getting worse,” she blurted into the awkward silence.

  “Sounds like it. Madison, I owe you an apology.”

  “Why?”

  “The first time I came here I resented the hell out of my father bringing you back into our lives. But you’re not the woman I thought you were. You’re...more compassionate and generous than I’d been led to believe.”

  The compliment sandbagged her and undermined her defenses even more. “I... Apology accepted. G-good night, Adam.”

  He remained where he was, squarely blocking the hall. She debated taking her heartburn back to bed.

  “You think that ice cream’s any good?”

  The question, accompanied by that boyish grin, knocked her mentally off-balance. “Sue makes the best peach ice cream I’ve ever tasted. She and Bill grow the peaches on their farm, and Sue’s father owns the dairy that supplies the cream. The ingredients don’t come any fresher.”

  “Any chance there’s enough for two and that you’re willing to share?”

  How could she refuse that glimmer of anticipation in his eyes? Wise or not, she couldn’t. “That’s actually where I was headed. If you’ll grab the ice cream, I’ll get the bowls.”

  “Deal.”

  Given the emptiness welling inside her that she knew ice cream couldn’t fill, this would probably be another decision she’d regret. But then, her life had been liberally littered with those.

  * * *

  THUNDER BOOMED CLOSE by, rattling the house. Adam put the last spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and let the rich dessert slide down his throat. Madison was only a scoop behind. She lowered the utensil to the bowl and licked her lips. He caught himself following the movement and averted his gaze.

  “Didn’t I tell you it was the best?” she asked.

  “You didn’t exaggerate. I’ll take care of the dishes.” He collected the bowls, rose and looked around. “No dishwasher?”

  “No. June’s grandfather was old school and never installed one. I didn’t see the point in going to the trouble or expense just for me. I don’t use that many dishes.”

  Something they had in common. “I hear that.”

  She extracted a bottle of dish liquid and a sponge from the cabinet beneath the sink. “You can rescind your offer to wash up if you want since it’s hard manual labor.”

  The teasing tone of her voice made him smile. “I think I can handle it. It’s the least I can do since sharing means you won’t get seconds. Not even my great-grandmother’s peach ice cream was that good.”

  She got a faraway sad look in her eyes. “My mother used to make homemade vanilla with my grandmother’s ice cream freezer. My sister and I would fight for turns at cranking the handle.”

 
He knew very little about her life before Andrew other than that she’d grown up somewhere in tornado alley. “Andrew and I did the same. I remember being disappointed after my grandparents passed away and Mom bought an electric machine. Wow. I haven’t thought about that in twenty years.”

  Lightning struck nearby, making the fine hair on his arms lift. “That was close.”

  Then the lights flickered and went out. The instant total darkness of the countryside was a surprise. He couldn’t see his hand at the end of his arm, and he couldn’t see her beside him. But he could feel her and hear her breathing. The awareness of Madison was unsettling.

  “You’re off the hook for washing up. I’m on a well. No power means no well pump. We can’t turn on the water. Stay put. I’ll get a light.”

  The sound of her bare feet padded toward the front of the house. He heard the scrape of a match—the old-fashioned wooden kind—then the tinkle of glass. A glow lit the den. Madison returned carrying an old brass hurricane lantern.

  “Know how to use one of these?” she asked.

  “I camp.”

  “Then you can take the lamp. I don’t need it—I know this house as well as I know my own face.”

  “You’re used to taking care of yourself.”

  “I’m pretty self-sufficient. Good night, Adam.”

  Another of Andrew’s tales bit the dust. His brother had claimed Madison expected everything to be done for her when she was at home.

  “At least let me walk you to your room.”

  She looked ready to argue, then shrugged and headed down the hall. A louder clap of thunder shook the walls, followed by a crack then a heavy thump outside. She darted ahead into her bedroom and to the window overlooking the side yard.

  “A branch came down.”

  He joined her, but couldn’t see anything except the glare of the flame on the glass. He set the lamp on a dresser, then stood beside her at the window until another flash of lightning lit the lawn. “It’s a big one, but it doesn’t look like it landed on anything.”