Man Shy

by Catherine Mulvany

  Mallory studied him carefully. “Brody, are you sure you’re all right? I think that knock on the head tweaked your brain.”

  “No, you’re the one who tweaked my brain, honey. How about it? Kiss me?”

  She wanted to. Oh, God, she wanted to, but she was afraid a kiss would only leave him wanting more. And more was something she didn’t have to give.

  “Just one kiss, Mallory. For luck. To ward off the possibility that Arlo Two might sneak in the back door and adjust the X-ray machine so it fries all my little gray cells.”

  “Fertile little gray cells. You have quite an imagination.”

  “Oh, Mallory, please. If the situation were reversed, I’d grant you one final wish.”

  “You’re going to have some X rays, Hunter, not a lethal injection.”

  “I won’t even kiss you back. Promise.” His smile was irresistible.

  Heck, he was right. One little kiss. What was the big deal? Mallory hitched herself up on the edge of the gurney and leaned toward Brody, stopping an inch from his mouth. “Close your eyes,” she said. There was something very unnerving about being stared at, at such close range.

  “I want to watch your expression.”

  “What’s to see? Eyes closed. Lips puckered.”

  Brody didn’t say a word, just continued to smile at her. Mallory felt the heat in her cheeks and knew she was blushing.

  “Much more of this, Brody Hunter, and I’m going to tell the nurse you requested an enema.”

  “Kiss me,” he said, his mouth so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

  Good thing she hadn’t claimed to be his fiancée; he’d be insisting on a full-body massage.

  “Kiss me,” he said again. “Hurry. I think I hear the storm troopers coming.”

  Mallory heard them too.

  She kissed him, a sweet, gentle pressure that shouldn’t have caused her nipples to pucker or her groin muscles to tighten but did. She broke contact with a sigh and opened her eyes to see that Brody looked every bit as shell-shocked as she felt. She gave a little hiccup of laughter, embarrassed by her state of arousal. “I thought you were lying about not kissing me back.”

  “I was,” he said. “That is, I meant to.” He blinked. “Only I got distracted. Toss that blanket up over me, will you?”

  “You’re cold?”

  He frowned. “Not exactly.”

  As Mallory reached down for the blanket she discovered the source of his discomfort straining against the center strap. “Oh,” she said. She tucked the blanket over him loosely to disguise the embarrassing bulge seconds before the two orderlies entered the room.

  “Thanks for waiting,” Brody said as Mallory met him at the emergency-room exit an hour later.

  “You’re my ride home. What choice did I have?” She handed him the keys to the Jeep. “Besides, if I hadn’t waited, I’d have missed the thrill of watching a late-night episode of Star Trek on the grainy thirteen-inch TV in the waiting room. The Tribbles episode, one of my favorites. Of course I had to fight a couple of off-duty maintenance men for the remote—they wanted to watch the Home Shopping Network—but I pretended I didn’t understand English, jabbered at them in my best German until they backed off.”

  She examined him closely. He didn’t look too worse for wear, other than some heavy-duty beard stubble, the bandage on the back of his head, and the hair straggling loose around his face. “How’d your X rays turn out?”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Want me to drive?”

  “No, aside from an industrial-strength headache, I’m okay.”

  “Going to be feeling good enough to escort me to the rehearsal dinner tonight?”

  “Oh, sure. Couple of aspirin and a few hours’ sleep and I’ll be fine. What time should I pick you up?”

  “Dinner reservations at the Piccadilly Room are at seven, so why don’t you pick me up about six-thirty? And please, Brody, be on time. My father gets very cranky when he isn’t fed promptly.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said. “I owe you one.”

  “Two,” she corrected him. “You owe me two.”

  Brody rang Mallory’s doorbell at six-thirty on the dot, proud of himself because, for once, he wasn’t late.

  She opened the door and her big blue eyes widened in surprise. “You cut off your ponytail!”

  “Had to. They shaved a patch in back where they put in the stitches. No way to cover it up. This way it blends in a little better. What do you think?”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I like it, and Mother will be thrilled. Come on in. I’m almost ready. I just have to slip into my dress.” She went to change, leaving him to fend for himself in the living room.

  Brody plopped down on the armchair and began leafing through the evening edition of the Eastern Oregon Gazette. The burglary ring had made the front page again, a house near the college their latest target, but it was the sidebar that caught his attention. “Mallory!”

  “What?” she said from right behind him.

  “Did you tell anyone about the Fudgie-Pudgie connection?” he demanded, turning around. Then he saw her, and all thoughts of the case flew right out of his head. “Holy cow,” he muttered. An inadequate response, but the best his poor brain could produce under the circumstances. He’d always thought Mallory was beautiful. But tonight she was so gorgeous that she quite literally took his breath away.

  “What’s your honest opinion?” She twirled around to show off her new blue dress. The soft fabric clung to her curves, then flared to a full skirt that hit mid-thigh, baring what seemed to be miles of long, slender legs. The sleeves were long and snug, the neckline a deep U-shape that revealed more than a hint of cleavage. Her eyes were soft and dewy, her mouth pink and inviting, her hair silky and touchable. “Do I look like a frumpy loser of an old maid?”

  Brody took a deep breath. “Not hardly. Poor Corby’s going to kick himself clear into next week for being dumb enough to let you get away.”

  She smiled in satisfaction. “Good. That’s the idea.”

  “I made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I?” Mallory huddled in the passenger seat of the Jeep, looking miserable.

  Brody had been driving the deserted back streets of Brunswick for the past twenty minutes to give her a chance to calm down, but his plan didn’t seem to be working.

  “You made a perfectly reasonable assumption.”

  “You mean I jumped to a bizarre—and totally erroneous—conclusion. How could I have believed for one instant that Evan was having a sleazy affair with Lamour Hooterman? I should have known better. I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “What was he doing with her? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “Buying the house across the street from yours.”

  He glanced at her with a frown. “Now wait. I thought a middle-aged couple just bought it.”

  “They did, Lamour’s parents. Only right after the deal closed, her father got transferred to Spokane, so Lamour’s been showing the place to prospective buyers. Evan wasn’t hiding an illicit affair; he was just afraid to tell Lindsey that he’d accepted KBRU’s job offer and that they were moving back to Brunswick right after the honeymoon.” She thunked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “How could I be so stupid?”

  “I still say it was an understandable mistake.”

  “No, I mean how could I be so stupid that I let myself get involved in Evan and Lindsey’s problems. I knew better.” She sighed. “Now everybody’s mad at me for causing a ruckus at the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Your dad’s not mad at you. You should have heard him laugh when you dumped your drink over Corby’s head.”

  Mallory grinned. “Evan was never Daddy’s favorite person”—she chuckled—“and he did look pretty funny with wine dripping off the end of his nose.”

  Brody walked Mallory to her front door, but she didn’t go inside right away. She leaned against the door, smiling up at him. “Thank you,” she said, “for helping me
see the humorous side of tonight’s fiasco.”

  “No problem. I owed you one, remember?”

  “Two,” she said. “You owed me two.” Her voice sounded breathier than normal, which probably had a lot to do with the look on his face.

  Brody’s eyes glittered like coins in the moonlight. Even with his hair cut short, he looked dangerous. An anticipatory shiver rippled down her spine. He’s going to kiss me, she thought, bracing herself for a gut-wrenching panic attack that never came.

  Neither did the kiss.

  “We need to talk, Mallory.” His expression hadn’t frightened her, but the husky undertones in his voice set off all her warning bells.

  “What about?”

  He flattened his palms against the siding on either side of her head and leaned in closer. “I think you know how attracted I am to you.”

  She caught a whiff of his aftershave, underlaid by something else, something that was pure, primitive male, a vivid reminder of his untimely arousal in the X-ray-department waiting room. She remembered, too, her own response.

  Mallory tore her gaze from his. It was hard to think with Brody staring into her eyes as if he could see her thoughts mirrored there.

  “Mallory, I’m attracted to you and I’m pretty sure you’re attracted to me too.”

  “I—”

  “So what’s the problem? Granted, you don’t flinch away from a casual touch anymore and you’ve kissed me a time or two, but I’d like to take our relationship another step. Only the one time I tried, I ended up flat on the welcome mat. Please, Mallory, we need to talk about it.”

  She frowned down at the keys clenched in her hands. “You’re right. I haven’t played fair with you. Hot one minute, cold the next. No wonder you’re confused. You deserve an explanation.” Her voice faded away to a husky whisper. “I owe it to you, but c”

  Brody nudged her glasses up her nose. “No, you owe it to yourself to talk this through.”

  Mallory turned away, ducking beneath his arm. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain.”

  “Not tonight. I’m tired.”

  Brody grabbed her forearm. “Mallory c”

  She trembled violently. “I can’t talk about it.”

  He pulled her around to face him. “You have to talk about it, honey, and now is as good a time as any.” He pulled her chin up so she was forced to look at him. “I’m not your enemy, you know. Dammit, Mallory, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  Her heart fluttered wildly. She felt faint. “No, you can’t!”

  “Talk to me. Tell me what the problem is.”

  She closed her eyes against the entreaty in his face and drew a long, shuddering breath. He deserved the truth. She turned to the door, unlocked it, and shoved it open. “Come on in. It’s cold out.”

  NINE

  Mallory hadn’t cringed when he sat down beside her on the love seat, a good sign, but she hadn’t said anything yet, either, other than to offer him coffee, which he’d refused. She scowled at the antique trunk as if her personal demons were locked inside of it instead of her head. She spoke finally without looking up. “Did you have a special place when you were a kid?”

  “The willows down by the river behind our house,” he answered promptly, “where my stepbrothers and I played cops and robbers.”

  “My special place was Valley View Memorial Gardens, the cemetery on the hill across from the college.”

  “You played in a graveyard?” Brody suppressed a shudder. He’d never been fond of cemeteries himself.

  “Don’t tell me you’re superstitious.” A faint smile lit her face.

  “Not superstitious. Just not too thrilled with graveyards. A little too Stephen King for my taste.”

  “The graves weren’t the attraction.” She frowned again. “An irrigation ditch separates the old part of the cemetery from the new part. I loved splashing around in the water, even though it wasn’t really deep enough for swimming.”

  Which sounded pretty innocuous. In which case, why was she bringing it up?

  Mallory turned to face him. “I like you, Brody. I like you a lot, but there are things you don’t know about me. I can’t give you what you need.”

  The stricken expression on her face set his heart racing with fear. He knew that look. He’d seen one like it on Jenna’s face the day she died. “Whatever it is, we can work it out.”

  Her smile held a tinge of bitterness. “Hear me out first before you make any rash promises.” She drew another deep breath. “Like I said, Brody, I really like you, but I can’t make love with you.” She shuddered convulsively.

  “Why? You and Corby—”

  “No, we never c” She let it trail off. “I couldn’t. I can’t.” She stared hard at her hands, braced on the edge of the trunk.

  “I’m a patient man, Mallory. I can wait until you’re ready.”

  “I—” She tried again. “You don’t understand. I’ll never be ready. I like you a lot, and I’m attracted to you, very attracted to you, but c” She trailed off again.

  But not enough to take a chance. “I understand,” he said, though he didn’t.

  Mallory gripped his hand in hers. “No, you don’t, but I’ll do my best to explain.” She squeezed his fingers tightly and took a deep breath. Her face was pale. She trembled violently.

  “Mallory, you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.”

  She shushed him with an increased pressure on his hand.

  “The summer I turned eleven c” She quavered to a halt, took another deep breath and started over. “The summer I turned eleven, I had a huge crush on Cameron Benson, who lived next door to us. When he got a summer job helping the caretaker at Valley View, I was in seventh heaven. He was six years older and completely out of my league, but that didn’t matter. I was happy just to have the chance to watch him, to worship from afar.”

  His hand was going numb, but he didn’t move, afraid if he broke her concentration, she might never again find the courage to speak.

  “I spent hours spinning absurd and elaborate fantasies starring me as a feisty Princess Leia type and Cameron as Brunswick’s answer to Harrison Ford.” She turned away as if she were embarrassed by what she was telling him.

  Brody squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry about it. Fantasizing is standard adolescent behavior. I seem to remember having a real serious thing for my eighth-grade English teacher, Miss Tremaine. She had long, dark hair, big brown eyes, and a voice that could make John Milton sound sexy.”

  Mallory turned to him, her face expressionless. “Normal,” she said, “as long as it stays a fantasy.” She bit her lip. “I thought the sun revolved around Cameron. He was a senior, popular, a football player, not to mention the handsomest boy in school.” She drew a ragged breath. “By contrast, I was dorky little middle-school kid. A nobody. Part of the scenery.

  “One sweltering July day Lindsey and I were splashing around in the ditch, trying to cool off, when I looked up and there he was. Cameron. Like a dream come true. He came driving across the grass on a big riding mower. He was wearing cutoffs. No shirt. I’d never seen anyone more gorgeous in my life.” Her fingernails dug into his flesh.

  Oh, God. Brody’s guts twisted like a sack full of snakes. Depths. Deep, dark, murky depths.

  “He looked up and saw me then, and he smiled and killed the mower. I remember the way his chest and shoulders looked, shiny with sweat, the way the sunlight reflected off the fuzzy blond hairs on his legs.” She shivered. “He called me by name, and that surprised me because I didn’t think he knew who I was. Just hearing him say my name was enough to give me goose bumps.” She paused. When she continued, she spoke in a near whisper. “I was flattered, honored. None of it seemed real. It was like somehow I’d slipped inside one of my own daydreams.”

  Damn. The snakes in his gut coiled a little tighter. He knew what was coming.

  “Lindsey asked if she could have a ride on the mower, but he said no, he need
ed to let it cool off for a while. Then he asked if we were hot. He told Lindsey he had some sodas in a cooler back at his pickup and asked if she’d like one. She said sure and took off for the other side of the cemetery. Then he offered to show me the secret room under the gazebo.”

  I’ll just bet he did. Brody clenched his jaw and kept quiet. This was not the time to interrupt.

  Mallory’s eyes looked huge and unfocused, as if she had just awakened from a nightmare. “I had no idea what he intended, Brody. None. He was so nice, so friendly.” She swallowed hard and fell silent.

  Bastard, thought Brody. He gripped the edge of the love seat tightly with his free hand.

  “There was a door hidden in the lattice and storage space underneath, not a room really. More like a dirt-floored crawl space, only it was tall enough to stand up in and there were all sorts of tools stacked inside. Buckets and hoses. Rakes, shovels. I didn’t really pay much attention because as soon as he had the door shut, he started kissing me, and it was exactly like my fantasies.” She bit her lip again. “At first.”

  Damn, he couldn’t take any more. “The bastard raped you, didn’t he?”

  She frowned. “Sort of. I mean, now I can see that yes, it was rape, but then I thought the whole thing was my fault.”

  “Your fault!” Mallory flinched and Brody realized he’d shouted the words. “Your fault?” he repeated more quietly.

  She averted her face, staring again at the trunk. “When Cameron kissed me, I kissed him back. And when he pushed me down in the dirt, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t scream or tell him to stop.”

  Brody’s throat felt tight. “Because you didn’t have a clue what he was up to.”

  “No.” Her voice was tinged with bitterness. “But I should have. Only I’d spent too much time with my nose stuck in a book, and not enough time learning what happens to stupid little girls in real life.” She drew a quick, sobbing breath.

  “Oh, Mallory. I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head slowly from side to side. “Cameron wasn’t. He said I’d got what I deserved. He said any girl who went around in a wet T-shirt was just asking for it. He said I should be thanking him, not bawling like a damned baby. He said shut up or he’d knock my teeth down my throat and give me something to cry about.”