Joker's Wild

by Sandra Chastain

  She held on for dear life as the machine lurched forward. He definitely had a way of getting to her, she thought. “Eric the Red and a red bike? A perfect match,” she commented dryly.

  Joker didn’t hear her. Her words were caught by the wind and flung away behind them as he maneuvered the machine around and drove down the long drive to the road. She tried to maintain distance between her thighs and his body, but the seat was amply filled by her companion, leaving little space for her slight frame.

  As a skater she was more than used to two bodies moving together as one. But this sensation was disturbingly different. She couldn’t tell whether it was the wave of pain radiating from her knee or the rough texture of his cotton trousers rubbing against the inside of her legs that set off the quivers in her lower body. The woodsy smell of his cologne whipped past her face and caught in the helmet she was wearing. And the feel of her breasts pressing against his back conjured up intimate forbidden fantasies that made her heart beat so fast that she was certain he could feel it through his shirt.

  Allison forced her attention to the new buildings along the roadside. It’s a matter of willpower, she told herself. If she didn’t think about the pain, it wouldn’t be there.

  Gone were the big two-story houses that used to line the street across from the railroad. They’d been replaced by a bank, a new fire station, and an automobile dealership. She realized with a pang of regret that old Pretty Springs was no more.

  The old Allison Josey is no more either, she thought. But the changes in the town were progressive and counted for something. Allison was still in transition, and she had no idea how she would revitalize her life.

  Joker turned the motorcycle abruptly at the sign that said PRETTY SPRINGS NURSING AND RETIREMENT HOME. He cut down a gravel service road, circled to the back of the stately structure with the huge wraparound veranda, and brought the cycle to a stop under a magnolia tree. Allison realized gratefully that he’d respected her wishes not to be seen.

  Joker removed his helmet and Allison’s.

  “Now you behave yourself, Beauty,” Joker cautioned. “Or I’ll check you in and let you share a room with your grandmother.”

  “I wish you hadn’t done this, Joker. I don’t want to worry Gran.”

  “She knows that you’ll come sometime, and she’s missed you—very much. Now you put a smile on that face, and let her see that you’re doing fine.” Joker lifted Allison’s chin and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Okay?”

  “Oh, all right.” He was doing it again, convincing her with his touch to follow the direction he’d already determined for her. And she was agreeing without a fuss. “But how do you plan to explain why I can’t walk?”

  “I’ll handle that if you’ll promise me something. Don’t get shook, no matter what you see. And you’re right,” he cautioned, “we don’t want to let her know how bad your leg is. She thinks we’re just sneaking you in so that you won’t be mobbed by your fans.”

  Joker lifted her once more and stepped across a low rock wall into a private patio shielded from the world by a hedge on one side and a canvas awning on the other. He opened the sliding glass door, walked inside, and deposited Allison at the foot of a hospital bed covered with a plush satin comforter.

  “Morning, Miss Lenice, here’s our girl.”

  Lenice Josey opened her eyes, a bright smile spread halfway across a mouth drawn into a downward grimace at one corner. With one hand she pulled Allison to her and hugged her. “Good boy,” she said slowly, trying to erase the hesitation from her speech. “Joker said you … here. Your leg?”

  Allison could only nod as her face paled at the sight of her grandmother. She’d received the call about her grandmother’s fall just before the operation on her knee. Afterward she hadn’t been able to do more than keep in touch with Gran’s doctor by phone. Obviously Gran hadn’t wanted to worry her, so she hadn’t let him tell Allison the whole truth. Now she knew; the drooping mouth and the slurred speech indicated the fall hadn’t been just a fall—she’d had a stroke.

  “It’s fine. How are you, Gran?” Allison hugged the thin woman, pulled back, and looked at her grandmother as she continued to hold her hand. Lenice Josey had suddenly grown old, and Allison hadn’t noticed the change until now. To Allison, Gran would always be beautiful. Though Allison realized the staff was taking good care of her, her illness showed in her face. But she was still Gran. Her hair was styled, and the soft pink robe she was wearing complimented her carefully manicured pale pink fingernails.

  “Good … better … you?”

  “Much better now that I’m home. But I miss having you there. When are they going to release you?”

  A frown creased one side of Mrs. Josey’s face.

  “It better be soon,” Joker interrupted, his hearty voice teasing the elderly woman as he moved up beside her bed. “I’m going to have to sit outside this door with a big stick. Kaylyn and Sandi—Kaylyn’s the recreation director and Sandi’s the therapist—say that all the single men in the joint are courting Miss Lenice.”

  “Ahh, Joker, you’re such … such … a tease.”

  “Yes, that’s one of my charms, darling. Now don’t tell anybody, but as soon as we can get rid of the wardens, I thought I’d take you out for a midnight spin on my new bike.”

  “Oh … you … I’m an old lady.”

  “I always was a sucker for an older woman.”

  “Not … me. Take Allison.”

  There was a light knock on the door as it swung open. “Mrs. Josey, it’s time to get ready for our trip to the springs. Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had company.” The woman in the doorway was tall, very tall, Allison noted. She was an absolutely stunning, statuesque, very pregnant woman.

  Joker put his hand on Allison’s shoulder as if he’d known she wanted to bolt from the room. “Kaylyn, this is Allison, Mrs. Josey’s granddaughter. She’s come home for a while. Allison, my sister-in-law Kaylyn.”

  “Oh, how nice. I’ve heard so much about you. Tom Brolin, the editor of the Gazette,” Kaylyn explained to Allison, “was saying just last night that between you and the Vandergriffs, Pretty Springs is really on the map.”

  “Yep,” Joker agreed. “But that’s about to change. I heard this morning that Elvis Presley was spotted over at the springs. You’ve heard that he isn’t really dead, haven’t you?”

  “Joker, how do you do it? Everybody else brings fruit. You bring fantasies. By the way,” Kaylyn whispered behind her hand, “King said to tell you that Harold is looking for you. He’s talked to the committee and they’ve decided to—”

  “Harold?” Joker interrupted. “He isn’t coming here, is he?” He knew what Harold’s committee had decided. As soon as he’d told Mrs. Josey that Allison was home, the word had spread. Harold had come up with the idea of having Allison take part in the grand opening of the Sports Medicine Center. That was the last thing she needed to hear at the moment.

  “Possibly. He was asking where—”

  “Oh no! I forgot that Allison and I have an errand to run,” Joker said, lifting Allison in his arms and striding out the door. “Give Harold my best,” he called over his shoulder in a rush.

  “Where are you going?” Kaylyn asked, shaking her head at her brother-in-law’s foolishness.

  “To buy some chickens,” Joker said seriously. “We’re considering turning the estate into a chicken ranch. Allison likes fried chicken.”

  Allison waved helplessly at her grandmother. Raise chickens? From the merriment in Gran’s eyes it was obvious that she understood the man whooshing her out the door. Allison wished she did.

  “What was that all about?” Allison asked as Joker fastened the strap of her helmet beneath her chin. She could have fastened it herself, but there was something soothing about feeling his hands softly touching her neck and chin. The feeling in her stomach as he straddled the machine and slid back against her was anything but soothing.

  “What do you mean?” Joker yelled as he starte
d up the motorcycle.

  “Why did we fly out of there like we were about to be caught by the posse?” she asked when they stopped at a light.

  “We were. You heard her say that Harold was looking for me.”

  “So? Who’s Harold?”

  “Harold is running for mayor, and you know how those politicians are, always campaigning.”

  By the time he’d parked the bike, Allison’s leg was throbbing from the awkward position she’d had to hold her leg in while riding. All she had to do was continue her therapy, they’d told her, and she’d be able to walk. Walk? Maybe. Conquer her pain? No. Skate again? Never. The pain she could live with, but never skating again was something she refused to accept.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say, grateful for Joker’s assistance this time. She couldn’t have walked back to the house even if she’d had her crutches. She gave in to her weakness and laid her head against him, closing her eyes and tightening her muscles in an attempt to stop the agony.

  Through the foyer, up the stairs, and into her bedroom he strode. He placed her on the bed and removed her shoes. “Your leg is cramping. Where is your medicine?”

  “I threw it out the window somewhere outside of Washington,” she answered, wondering again what she had hoped to prove by that piece of stupidity.

  “All right, then. We’ll improvise,” Joker announced, taking the hem of her skirt and lifting it.

  “What are you doing?” Allison panicked, grabbing his hand.

  “I’m going to massage that knee. Then I’m going to pack it with hot towels. Try to keep it still until we can get you over to soak in the mineral water at the springs. It’s brought a major league pitcher back to form. We’ll see what it can do for you.”

  Joker left the room and she could hear him moving around in the bathroom. The situation was getting out of hand. She’d come home to get away from the world, only to find out that her safe refuge had been invaded by a stubborn stranger who seemed intent on taking over her life. She had to put a stop to that—somehow. Allison felt a fresh wave of spasms rack her leg, and she held her breath until it passed.

  If she could get to a phone, she’d call … who? And … and do what? Report that she wanted to evict a red-haired giant who rode a red motorcycle and made her body flush with desire every time he touched her? No! Since the accident she’d avoided the press. She certainly didn’t want to call attention to herself now.

  First there had been her injury, then the slap in the face Mark had given her by quickly replacing her with a younger, more beautiful Olympic champion—on the ice and in his bed.

  It took the time she’d spent in the hospital away from Mark for her to recognize the hypnotic effect of his power. Every gesture, every loving word had been a calculated seduction. He used all women, just as he’d used her. Mark didn’t love anybody but himself. Once she could no longer perform, he didn’t need her any more. That was when she realized that Josey and Saville would never be a team again.

  She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen through him. Even now she refused to believe that Mark hadn’t cared about her in the beginning. They’d been so young and so in love, the darlings of the press. For fourteen years it had been she and Mark against the world. She’d loved the ice, the fame, and the man. They’d all become jumbled together in her mind. Now she had to separate them out, and she wasn’t sure that she could.

  “I’m not going to any springs. I don’t care if every pitcher in the National Baseball League is developing a bionic arm there,” she managed to spit out between the waves of pain. “Where in hell are my crutches?”

  “They’re downstairs, Beauty. But I don’t think you’re ready for them. I’ll get you a wheelchair this afternoon.”

  “No! No more wheelchairs! I will walk downstairs and get the damn crutches myself!”

  “When camels fly! I shouldn’t have taken you on my bike. You probably weren’t supposed to drive, and I don’t think you’re supposed to be walking either, are you? Does your doctor even know where you are?”

  “No, and he’s not going to,” Allison said wearily, bringing herself to an upright position. “I’ve come through other injuries and skated again. And I’ll skate after this one, too, no matter what those doctors think. They aren’t going to operate on me again. I don’t need them, or anyone else.”

  Throwing her leg over the side of the bed, she gritted her teeth and attempted to stand. The minute her leg supported her weight, stars exploded behind her eyes, and she cried out in pain as she collapsed on the floor.

  Joker was beside her instantly, lifting her back to the bed. He folded a pillow and slid it under her bad knee, forcing her skirt up, exposing her leg. “Damn! The surgeons really did a job on you, didn’t they?” He stared in disbelief at the scars on her swollen knee. “You look like a racehorse I once knew. They gave up on him too. But after a little of my special attention, he raced again and won. Let me see what I can do for you.”

  She didn’t answer. By that time the pain was too great. She closed her eyes and choked off the low moan rising from the back of her throat. And then she felt his hands, warm and gentle against her knee. She flinched and tried to move away. He didn’t hold her. He simply rested his hands over her, letting the strange heat of his touch permeate the skin. Moistening first one palm then the other with a thick soothing cream, he rubbed.

  The pain didn’t stop, but soon she began to sense a kind of shield between her and the hurt. She began to relax and let herself respond to his tender touch. Nerve endings absorbed the heat, seemed to lose their tension, and settled into a glow. She parted her lips in a sigh, feeling a kind of spiritual aura settle over her.

  On and on his hands worked, first gently, then more surely. As the bunched-up muscles relaxed, he moved to the other leg. Beginning with the toes, he worked his big hands up the slender, muscular leg, kneading out little knots of tension until she fell asleep.

  Joker leaned back and waited. He’d always known he had good hands. He’d gently put many a plant in the ground and had watched each one settle in and begin to grow. He’d never thought much about his special power until he’d tried his touch on the horse’s knee and seen it heal. This was the first time he’d applied it to a person. And like the bruised plants he’d brought back to life, Allison’s leg had responded. Good. She was sleeping. She needed to sleep. She needed to heal. She needed his touch.

  Hers was no simple injury, and he didn’t think it was the only thing that was causing her pain. She’d been hurt so badly that she’d withdrawn from the world and come home to hide like a wounded animal. She was so strong, yet fragile and beautiful. He could probably span her waist with both hands and have enough space left to reach up and touch the small round breasts outlined by the knit fabric of the dress.

  He felt himself harden as he looked at her. He wanted her, a woman half out of her mind with pain, more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. He wanted to take her pain and suffer it for her. He wanted to put his arms around her and tell her that everything would be all right. Instead, he only allowed himself to touch his lips to hers, holding them there for a very long minute.

  “What do you mean, Diamond will have to take over the Chattahoochee Complex landscaping job? Jack designs our projects, I build them, Diamond plans the interior, and you handle sales and landscaping. This is a family project, or have you forgotten?”

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Joker answered as he followed his brother King into the newly finished permanent offices of Vandergriff Development, Inc. in the Pretty Springs Golf and Tennis Retirement Community.

  “Then why?” King’s expression spoke his incredulity as he sat down behind the desk and propped his dusty boots on its marble top.

  “I’ve met someone. She’s alone, and she needs me. I want to be there for her.”

  “Her? You’re asking one of us to do your job so that you can be there for a woman?”

  Joker moistened his lips and nodded. “This woman is very special,
King. I care a great deal for her.”

  King ran his fingers through his thick golden hair and said in an affectionate tone, “I don’t think that there’s been a span of more than a month in your entire life during which you didn’t think you were in love with somebody, beginning with your first babysitter. You must have been the only four-year-old in history who proposed.”

  Joker walked to the window and looked out over the neat tree-shaded houses that surrounded the golf course. He couldn’t see the lizard-shaped rock that was as much a part of the sports complex as the mineral springs that bubbled to the surface and collected in the natural basin, but he was proud that they’d saved it. He knew that telling King he cared about a woman was opening himself up to the brotherly teasing that was an easy part of their successful relationship, both in business and as a family.

  He hadn’t thought this far ahead, but now he realized that he expected King to understand. After all, from the moment the Pretty Springs Golf and Tennis Retirement Community had started and King had met Kaylyn Smith, he’d been a changed man. Joker had watched in amusement as King fell in love and began to view the world through Kaylyn’s sympathetic eyes. Whether the Vandergriffs believed in the healing properties of Kaylyn’s mineral waters or not, King’s falling in love had forced all of them to come up with a plan that would allow the local citizens to continue to use the springs.

  “I’m serious this time, King, as serious as you were when Kaylyn chained you to Lizard Rock to keep us from destroying the springs. I helped you come up with a solution then. Now I need your help.”

  King put his feet under the desk and sat up straight, a serious expression replacing his amusement. “You mean it, don’t you? Who is she?”

  “Her name is Allison Josey.”

  “Josey? As in the Josey estate, that run-down old house and gardens that you’re buying from the old lady in the nursing home?”