by Gina Wilkins
Kindness and hospitality. He gave a short, humorless laugh. Wouldn't his family be surprised to read those words in connection with him? None of them would have believed he knew how to offer either one.
He found himself tracing the letters of his name, imagining Lucy writing them. “None of us will ever forget you,” she had said.
He was rather afraid that he would never be able to forget her, either.
“So, how's my little girl?” Major Les Guerin asked as he and Lucy wandered arm and arm down Janie's winding garden path. The garden was dormant for winter, but bird baths and feeders provided entertainment as a variety of birds scrambled for the best seeds.
Lucy and her father, bundled against the cold, had slipped out of the house a few minutes earlier to spend a little time alone together. It was something they tried to do whenever they found themselves in the same place at the same time, something that happened all too rarely these days with their busy schedules.
Lucy leaned comfortably against her father's arm. When she was a little girl, she had thought he was the strongest, wisest, most handsome man on the planet. Now that she was an adult, she had no doubt that he was.
She had never blamed her father for sending her to live with his sister and brother-in-law after her mother's death. Les had had no interest in remarrying after the loss of his longtime sweetheart, and his military career had been too demanding to allow him to give her the time and attention an adolescent girl deserved. Janie had been able to offer those things as well as a woman's perspective, and Lucy had never lacked for love and attention.
Her father had called her almost every evening to ask how her day had gone and had visited as often as his schedule allowed. It hadn't been a traditional father-daughter relationship, perhaps, but it had worked for them.
“I'm hardly your little girl anymore, Daddy.”
He chuckled and patted her gloved hand, which rested on his arm. “I don't care how many advanced degrees you get, you'll always be my little girl.”
It was an old, familiar exchange, and as always it made Lucy smile. She rested her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Daddy.”
He responded with a characteristic mumble, then quickly changed the subject. “I hope you learned your lesson about taking off in your car when an ice storm is threatened. You were lucky you didn't spend Christmas Eve in a ditch somewhere, you know. Or worse.”
“I didn't know there was going to be an ice storm. The weather forecaster said he thought there would only be snow, if that. If I had known about the ice-”
“You probably would have tried to make it, anyway,” her father said with resignation.
“Maybe,” Lucy agreed ruefully. “I wouldn't have liked the thought of not being with everyone for Christmas. As it was, I missed the big Christmas Eve shindig.”
“Sounds like you had an interesting time where you were.”
“It was definitely interesting. Everyone was so nice. I really enjoyed watching the children find their gifts from Santa Claus.” She had told her family all about Tyler and Tricia and the lengths the adults had gone to so the children would have a special Christmas.
“You were just darned lucky you had a safe place to stay. Could have been stranded alone in your car. Or the guy in the house could have been a dangerous nutcase. Anything could have happened to you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Lucy said, tolerating his lecturing because she knew he really did worry about her. “I promise I'll be more careful in the future, but this time everything worked out fine.”
“And now you're humoring me.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Should've spanked you more when you were a kid,” he muttered.
Not believing a word of it, she laughed and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder as affectionately as a kitten. The major might intimidate most other people, but Lucy knew that where she was concerned, at least, the man was a marshmallow.
“So this guy who took you in-you going to be seeing him again?”
She wasn't particularly surprised by the question. Her father had always had a sixth sense about her. It had been particularly spooky when she was a teenager hundreds of miles away from him and somehow he had still known everything she was up to, but she had gotten accustomed to it since then. “Yes, I'll see him again.”
“Too early to get serious. Two days isn't long enough to get to know someone.”
“Are you telling me you don't believe in love at first sight?” Her gently mocking tone was deliberate, since she had heard the story about her father meeting her mother and immediately saying to himself, “Here is the woman I'm going to marry.”
The Major had the grace to flush a little. “I didn't say that,” he answered gruffly. “Are you telling me you already fancy yourself in love with this man?”
“All I'm saying is that I like him quite a lot, and I hope to have a chance to get to know him better. Maybe you'll meet him before long. I think you would like him, too, even though he's a little…well, different.”
This time it was her father who chuckled. “I wouldn't have expected anyone who caught your interest to be anything but different.”
That made her lift an eyebrow. “I'm trying to decide if that's a compliment or an insult.”
Patting her hand again, he led her onto a new pathway. “I'll let you think about it for a while. And, by the way, I do want to meet this Banner guy. Sooner, rather than later, if things start getting serious.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Apparently satisfied that he had made his point, Les changed the subject to family matters, and Lucy willingly went along.
She had said all she intended to say about Banner. More than he would have liked, probably, considering how obsessively private he was. But nothing had changed about her interest in seeing him again.
Chapter Eleven
It was funny the way thoughts of Lucy popped into Banner's mind at random moments that seemed to have no connection to her. Even five days after she had left, on December thirtieth, he still found himself thinking of her frequently, hoping she had made the remainder of the trip safely, wondering if she was enjoying her visit with her family.
Wondering if she thought of him even half as often as he thought of her.
Probably not, he decided as he ran a length of white pine through his planer. After all, she had plenty of other people now to distract her and divert her. If she had spoken of him at all, it had probably been to describe him as an oddball who lived alone with a scraggly dog and had been grudgingly gracious enough to allow a few stranded travelers to stay with him for a couple of days, though he had done little to entertain them while they were there.
Maybe he could have been a little friendlier. A little more social. Or maybe…
But no. He'd been himself, pretty much. And while Lucy might have found him a novelty while she was here, he wouldn't be surprised if the novelty had already worn off.
The planer whined shrilly as he fed another board into it, though the high-decibel sound was muted by the hearing protectors he wore along with safety glasses. Banner protected himself as assiduously in the workshop as he did in all the other areas of his life.
A tap on his shoulder made him jump and nearly drop the board he'd just planed smooth. Turning off the machine, he spun with a glare. “Damn it, Lucy, don't sneak up on me in the workshop. I could have taken a hand off or something.”
She somehow managed to smile and look penitent at the same time. “Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”
“The machinery I work with is dangerous. You could get hurt yourself if you aren't careful. From now on, when you come out here, make sure I see you come in so I can turn off anything…”
He fell silent as it occurred to him what he was saying. From now on? What made him think Lucy would be coming back into his workshop on a regular basis?
For that matter, what was she doing here now?
“Uh. Hi,” he said, pulling the hearing protectors off his head and tos
sing them aside.
Her musical laughter was a much more pleasant sound than the machine he had just silenced. “Hi, yourself. And I promise I'll be more careful from now on.”
Making it sound as if she planned to visit his workshop regularly. He cleared his throat. “I wasn't expecting to see you.”
“You said I should drop by again-is this a bad time?”
He couldn't imagine a bad time to see Lucy-but he would keep that thought to himself. “Let's go inside,” he suggested. “I'll make you some tea.”
“I'll take you up on that.” She turned to precede him out of the workshop.
She looked great, he couldn't help noticing as he followed her across the backyard to his house. She wore her black parka with the emerald knit cap and an emerald scarf. Jeans and sneakers completed what he could see of her outfit. Not exactly fancy dress, but he liked the way it looked on her. He suspected she would carry off sequins and diamonds with the same sort of carefree panache.
The thought of her dressed in her doctoral robe and sash made him scowl. Hardly a fitting match to his flannel shirt and worn jeans-but that was no revelation to him.
Hulk was at his food bowl when they entered the kitchen. The dog looked up from his kibble, spotted Lucy and ambled over to greet her, his feathery tail lazily sweeping the air as she removed her scarf and jacket and tossed them over a chair.
Admiring the way her cream-colored sweater emphasized her slender curves, Banner murmured, “He's excited to see you.”
Patting the dog's head, which she didn't even have to bend down to accomplish, Lucy looked around with a smile. “He shows it about as well as you do.”
Was she actually comparing him to his dog again? Just to prove that he was at least somewhat more demonstrative than his four-legged roomie, he reached out to tug her into his arms. “Maybe I can do a bit better.”
Her smile deepened. “I'm sure you can.”
His mouth was on hers almost before she finished speaking.
He had fantasized about kissing her again ever since the last time. Had dreamed of doing so again ever since she had driven away. And he had wondered if he would ever have another chance to hold her.
Without releasing her, he finally lifted his head a couple of inches. “I wasn't sure you would come back.”
Her fingers locked loosely behind his neck, she raised her eyebrows. “Didn't I tell you I would?”
“Yeah, well, people say things like that and then change their minds.”
“I don't,” she said, and pulled his mouth back to hers.
He had kissed plenty of women before, though perhaps not as many as some men his age could claim. What was so different about kissing Lucy? Why was the taste of her lips so memorable, the feel of her body so perfect against his? If simply kissing her was this good, he could only imagine how spectacular making love with her would be.
“The electricity is back,” Lucy murmured when Banner finally lifted his head for oxygen.
“Oh, yeah,” he muttered, still feeling the energy coursing through his veins.
She laughed. “I meant that your power lines have been repaired.”
Banner blinked and cleared his throat. “I knew what you meant.”
The look she gave him then was a bit too knowing. “Maybe you could make that tea?”
Feeling as awkward and nervous as a randy schoolboy, Banner let his arms fall to his sides. “Yeah. Sure. Uh…”
Still smiling, she moved to the sink to fill the kettle.
Lucy had been a little nervous when she had pulled into Banner's driveway, a bit concerned about what she would see in his eyes when he spotted her. Operating on a hunch, she hadn't even bothered knocking on his front door, but had walked straight to his workshop.
She had been somewhat disconcerted when his first words to her had been a lecture about shop safety. But when he had suddenly, rather humorously, realized she was back, his expression had been gratifyingly dazed. And when he had kissed her…well, suffice it to say those kisses had left no doubt in her mind that he was glad she had returned.
It was just as obvious that he had no idea what to do with her.
He sat grimly silent across the table as they sipped their tea. Even though the house was centrally heated now, the hot beverage still felt good in comparison to the crisp cold air outside. Lucy cradled the warm mug between her hands and studied Banner through her lashes.
“How's your work coming?” she asked. “Have you finished the order you were working on?”
“Almost. A few minor things left to do.”
“Then what?”
“Then I start working on another order.”
“It sounds as if you're doing well.”
He shrugged. “I have my regular customers who keep me busy.”
They had talked about his work before, of course. Lucy could think of nothing new to ask him about it just now, which meant that line of conversation had come to an end.
Banner made an effort to find a new topic. “How was your visit with your family?”
“It was great. I really enjoyed seeing everyone.”
“Your father is well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I'm, uh, happy to hear that.”
She couldn't help but laugh then. He was trying so hard to make innocuous small talk-and he was so very bad at it.
Her amusement made him scowl. “You're laughing at me.”
“I'm laughing at us,” she corrected him. “We're being so very proper and polite.”
His frown deepened. “I told you I'm not good at this. Talking to people, I mean.”
“Maybe we should go back to twenty questions. I think it's your turn. You have-what?-thirteen questions to go?”
“Fifteen,” he replied automatically. “The last one I asked you was your middle name. You're the one with thirteen to go.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You do have a good memory.”
“Yes,” he replied simply. “I do, actually. I remember every question we asked-and the answers.”
Which meant he was fully aware that she had been asking about his ex-wife when her impromptu game had ended. She would have to be a bit more careful with her questioning this time, but she still intended to find out as much about him as he would allow.
It seemed to her that the best way to start was to let him take the lead. “So, if you were to ask a sixth question about me, what would it be?”
“Why are you here?” he asked without even taking a moment to think about it.
She set her empty mug on the table. “Is that one of those existential, philosophical questions? Like what is the meaning of life?”
The look he gave her chided her for the deliberate misinterpretation. “You know what I meant.”
“Why did I come back?”
He nodded.
“You already know the answer to that one. I came back because I like you and I wanted to spend more time with you. I was rather hoping you felt the same way?”
It wasn't officially a question, she assured herself, but she lifted her voice at the end to encourage him to reply.
Instead, he nodded toward her mug. “Want some more tea? Something to eat, maybe?”
“No, to both questions, which, I assume, don't count toward your official twenty.”
He smiled a little at that. “I was just trying to be a good host.”
“You are a good host, whether you believe it or not. Ask anyone who stayed here Christmas Eve.”
As always, the compliment seemed to make him uncomfortable. “Do you have any hobbies?”
She grinned, knowing he had blurted out the first question that popped into his mind as a way to turn the subject away from him again. “A few. I love to read. I enjoy dancing. I play piano fairly well. And I play golf. Badly.”
He grunted. “I tried golf a few times. It was bad for my character.”
Amused, she asked, “In what way?”
“Ruined my language. I used cuss words I wasn
't aware that I knew. How the hell is anyone supposed to put a ball that small into a little hole that far away? Football-now that's a sport. A big ball you can tuck into your arm and run with. Or basketball, maybe. At least the basket's right over your head, not half a mile away.”
“Do you play football or basketball?”
“I'm what you might call an armchair athlete. Catch the games on TV.”
She couldn't help running a slow, assessing look down his lean, muscular frame. “You must do something physical to stay in shape.”
He shifted in his chair, looking self-conscious. “I run a little.”
“More than a little, I think.”
“Five or six miles a day when the weather's nice. I'm not one of those guys who runs in rain or snow.”
“Whatever you're doing, it works for you.”
A hint of color crept up from the collar of his flannel shirt. “Could we change the subject now?”
Every time she turned the subject to him, he grew uncomfortable. So many men she encountered couldn't talk about anything except themselves. Did Banner really have so little conceit?
“Of course. Do you like to dance?” she asked him, thinking of how nicely she seemed to fit into his arms-even if he was nearly a foot taller.
“Is that one of your official questions?”
“Number eight, isn't it?”
“Close enough. And the answer is that I don't know how to dance. I doubt that I would be any good at it.”
“Surely you've danced a few times.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Never found myself in a position where I had to try.”
“School dances? Weddings?”
“Never attended any school dances. Only been to a couple of weddings, and neither one had dancing. Mine was in front of a judge at a county courthouse, so there was no reception.”
How could a guy get to be thirty years old without ever dancing? “Why didn't you go to any dances in school?”
“I tried a couple in junior high, because my mother made me. Hated 'em. Didn't know what to say or how to act. Basically they bored me senseless. I announced in ninth grade that I would never attend another one, and I didn't.”