SOMEBODY'S HERO

by Marilyn Pappano

  Jayne tickled her. "Alone? You mean some writers get to be alone all day?"

  "Being a writer is boring," Lucy announced to the other women. "You write a while and then you check e-mail and then you go to Amazon and see how your book is selling and then you look for reviews and then sometimes you get mad. Then you write some more and you check e-mail some more and you look at Amazon again because they update every hour. And you just keep doing all that all day. Booor-ring."

  "I bet it's boring for you, too," Sarah said sympathetically.

  In response, Lucy opened her eyes wide, then crossed them, with her tongue hanging out of her mouth to one side.

  "You know, the kids get out of school in a couple hours. Why don't you go home with me and surprise them when they get there? Then you and Jordan can play together."

  "Could I, Mom, could I?" Lucy asked, bouncing in her seat. "Please, I'll be real good, I always am, and you can write all afternoon. Please?"

  A few hours of uninterrupted writing time was tantalizing enough. Throw in a good time for Lucy, and how could Jayne possibly turn it down? "Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked, but it was a purely rhetorical question.

  "I'd love to entertain her for a few hours. And I'm very good with children," Sarah said reassuringly. "I've had four of my own."

  "Four? I thought—" Abruptly Jayne broke off, but it was too late.

  Sarah's smile was serene but tinged with sadness. "I had a son from my first marriage. Tony died while waiting for a liver transplant. Kate was a baby, and he was three years old."

  "Oh, Sarah," Rebecca breathed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know…"

  "Most people don't. It's not a secret. It's just not something I normally bring up in casual conversation." Sarah drew a breath and smiled again, this time without the sorrow. "Why don't we plan on bringing Lucy home after dinner?"

  "That would be wonderful. Thank you," Jayne said.

  After a little more conversation and a tight hug and kiss, Lucy left with Sarah and Beth returned to her office on the square. Jayne was thinking about leaving, too, when Rebecca returned from cashing them out and slid onto the opposite bench. "Wow. I had no clue about Sarah's baby. How awful."

  Jayne nodded. She could imagine such heartache—her career depended on it—but she didn't know if she could survive it.

  "Well?" Rebecca prompted after a moment's silence.

  Puzzled, Jayne shook her head in silent question.

  "What's going on with you and Tyler?"

  She could insist there was nothing between them, which Rebecca wouldn't believe, or she could confess to everything, which she couldn't bring herself to do just yet. She settled for the middle ground. "We've been spending some time together."

  "Aha."

  "With Lucy."

  "Hmm."

  And without. Not much. Just enough to talk a little. To kiss a little. To want a lot.

  To want exactly what, that was the question, and Jayne wasn't yet sure of the answer. Sex was a given. Tyler's kisses weren't as smooth and practiced as Greg's had been, but they were real—he was real—and that counted for way more with her.

  A relationship was a given, as well. Whether they used the word or not—and she suspected Tyler was of the not persuasion—they were in a relationship. Maybe not a permanent one, a happily-ever-after-forever-and-ever-true-love relationship, but it could become that. She could be very happy with that, and in the past few days she'd begun to think that he could be, too.

  But what if she was wrong? What if she was setting herself up for a broken heart? She'd never had one, but she'd written about them. She knew how painful they were. And of course if he broke her heart, she couldn't continue to live within sight of his house. She couldn't be forced to see him every day, to stay there inside her little house with her heartache while he went on with life as usual.

  Don't go borrowing trouble, her grandmother used to preach, and Clarice had continued the tradition. Jayne was nowhere near heartache, not yet.

  But she could be on that road.

  Across the table, Rebecca cleared her throat. "It seems that every time we talk about Tyler, you tend to disappear off into some other world. Are you that private about your private life or does he really require that much thought?"

  Jayne toyed with her tea glass for a time before putting it away and folding her hands on the tabletop. "I realize there's a lot I don't know about Tyler." When Rebecca started to speak, Jayne shook her head and continued. "I don't want to hear it from you or someone else. I want to know that he trusts me enough to tell me himself. It's just … I don't know if that's possible for him." Trust was always an issue in her books, but her characters always came around in the end. Whatever big secrets they were hiding, the other half of the relationship accepted it. They didn't judge, didn't condemn, didn't doubt.

  It wasn't as easy in real life. She couldn't control Tyler the way she did her characters—couldn't give him the trust and understanding he needed to move on into the future. He had to find those things for himself.

  And if he didn't? That was too sad a possibility to consider.

  "My brother's a good man," Rebecca said quietly.

  "I know that."

  "But sometimes he doesn't."

  Jayne nodded. He'd told her he wasn't neighborly but had proven otherwise so many times. He didn't see anything special in the help he'd given her and Lucy and Edna before them, but it had been special. He was special. He just didn't recognize it.

  "Do you think…" Jayne paused. God, it sounded so middle school to ask, Do you think your brother really likes me? "Do you think I'm … convenient … for him?"

  Rebecca stared at her a moment, then burst into laughter. "You think Tyler's interested in you because you're handy?"

  "That's the word he used." Then she frowned. "No, actually, that's the word I used. But he said, yeah, sure."

  "Which never means yeah, sure, in that context." Rebecca laid her hand over Jayne's and squeezed. "Trust me—if my brother didn't like you, you could be living in the same house and he would never go near you. It's got nothing to do with convenience. Personally I think it's fate."

  "You believe in love at first sight?" Jayne tried to ratchet down the cynicism in her smile, but wasn't sure she succeeded.

  "No. But I believe in fate. I think you were destined to move to that house. To meet Tyler. To rescue him."

  "From what?" Jayne asked curiously.

  Rebecca gazed into the distance for a time before bringing her gaze back to Jayne's. Her smile was thin and edged with sadness. "From his past. From himself."

  She exhaled softly, bitterly. "All of us Lewises need rescuing from ourselves."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  "Have you made a decision about that armoire?"

  Tyler turned from the sink where he'd just washed up to face his boss as he dried his hands. "I haven't really thought about it." Except that Jayne had been really impressed by it. That it would make a nice housewarming gift. That even if it wouldn't fit in her crowded house, he could keep it for her until … until…

  Grimly he forced himself to finish the thought. Until she moved away, or moved into a bigger house. Like his.

  "Think about it," Daniel said. "You can make good money working for yourself."

  "I make good money working for you."

  "You can make better money working for yourself. Enough to take care of a family."

  "I don't have a family." He said the words simply, plainly. After Angela, he'd accepted that he would never have a family. It wasn't a promise or a fear but a simple fact of life. And it stung more now than it ever had before. "Is this your way of telling me I'm no longer welcome here?"

  Daniel snorted. "I wasn't planning on letting you go. I need you too much here. But part-time here, part-time for yourself…"

  Tyler had never thought about going into business for himself. It seemed unfair, after learning everything he knew from Daniel, to go into
competition with him. Besides, the pieces he made in his spare time weren't for sale. They were to keep him busy—to keep him from dwelling on how empty his life was.

  He hadn't gotten closer than fifty feet to the shop in the past four days.

  "Think about it," Daniel repeated. He removed a patch of stain from the cabinet in front of him, studied the results, then began wiping the wood clean. "You and Jayne doing anything special for dinner?"

  Tyler's face grew warm. "Why would we?"

  "Because Lucy's having dinner here. It's not often a single mother gets an evening free. How many real dates have you two had?"

  "As opposed to fake ones?" Tyler asked, leaning one hip against the worktable. "We've had dinner a couple nights this week." Three to be exact, but who was counting?

  "How many without Lucy?"

  He folded his arms across his chest. "How many real dates did you and Sarah have before you got married?"

  Finally Daniel looked up from his work and grinned. "None. But we already had Katie." He examined the cabinet from all sides, then stripped off his rubber gloves. "Long story short, we met in a bar, spent the rest of the weekend together, she didn't want to see me again, a year later her lawyer—that would be Beth—showed up wanting to know if I'd take custody of our baby girl for a while. When Sarah came to get her eleven months later, we … worked things out."

  Tyler didn't stare openmouthed, but he wanted to. Daniel had told him more in a minute than at any other time in all the years Tyler had worked for him. Part of it he'd already known—that the wedding had come after Kate's birth—but the rest surprised him. Sarah or Daniel hanging out in a bar? Hooking up for a one- or two-night stand? Sarah not wanting to see him again? And giving up custody of Kate, even temporarily? Sarah was the fiercest of all the mothers he'd ever known. No way she would give up one of her kids, not even to their father.

  Obviously Daniel's "long story short" had left out a lot of important details.

  "You don't know what to say to that, do you?" Daniel asked as he resealed the stain, then placed it with the other stains on the shelves against the wall. "Sometime I'll tell you the rest of the story. See you Monday."

  With a dazed nod, Tyler walked out into the late-afternoon sunshine. The temperature had dropped a few degrees, but it was still warm. The horses were in the pasture out back. Giggles were coming from the tree house. And nearer the cat's purrs rumbled as Kate, curled in a wicker chair on the porch, scratched it. She glanced up from Jayne's book, gave him a distracted smile, then returned to reading.

  On the way home he considered the prospect ahead of him—an evening alone with Jayne. They could go out on a real date, as Daniel had suggested—drive thirty miles north to Munroe for a quiet dinner that neither of them had to cook or clean up after. But a sixty-mile round-trip over mountain roads and still getting home at a reasonable time to meet Lucy meant an early dinner and spending the rest of their time driving. Not his idea of a great evening when they could do so many other things instead—kiss. Make out.

  Have sex.

  His grip tightened around the steering wheel. He shouldn't even think about sex with Jayne until he'd told her everything. It was only right, and he'd always—with one notable exception—done what was right. But if he told her everything, she wouldn't let him near her again, and he really needed to be near her. Even if nothing could come of it. Even if it would cost him more than he had to give.

  He'd had so damn little that was good in the last five years. He was willing to pay the price for taking it now.

  Lost in the bleakness of his thoughts, he was cresting the last hill before he realized it. Edna's house appeared on the left, still shabby but in a neater, less neglected way. A bright splash of color stood out on the porch—hot-rod red, blue, lime-green, yellow—a big blob of intense color set off by the silvered wood around it. The red was Jayne's dress, he saw as he got nearer, that left a lot of long, golden leg exposed, and the other colors were stripes on a hammock that, with its stand, took up nearly half the porch.

  He thought about stopping, but he was grimy from the day's work. Instead he lifted one hand in response to Jayne's wave, then drove on past. After parking near the barn, he went in the back door, let the dogs out, then stripped in the laundry room, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor to shake out before he put them in the hamper. He showered quickly, changed into clean jeans and a white button-down shirt, took two cans of pop from the refrigerator and headed across the road.

  Jayne was still lying in the hammock, a book open in her lap, a glossy bookmark holding her place when the breeze raffled the pages. With a lazy smile, she took the pop he offered, sipped it, then balanced it on the rail cap. "What do you think of my surprise? Mom had it delivered from Nashville. Did I mention she loves to shop?"

  "Your dad did." He nudged the hammock with one knee and set it swaying gently. "You put that together?"

  "No, but I could have." She grinned. "I came home from town to find it sitting here all assembled, with a note from Mom saying, 'Enjoy.' Want to try it?" She patted the few inches of canvas next to her.

  His throat went dry. The hammock was big enough for two if they didn't mind being cozy. He wanted to get a hell of a lot more than cozy with her. He just wasn't sure how. They'd kissed only a couple of times. They'd hardly touched. He didn't know what she wanted, didn't even know for sure what he wanted besides more. Her.

  "Come on," she said, her voice as soft as if coaxing a skittish animal. "I won't bite … unless you want me to." Her feet were bare, her hair mussed around her head, her smile so full and satisfied that it hit him with the effect of a punch.

  With what was as close as he could come to a smile, he shook his head, then sat down on the porch floor. "What are you reading?"

  She closed the book and offered it to him. It was old, the cover tattered, the pages edged with yellow. Part of the title was ripped off the cover. A flip inside revealed the rest of it: Life in the Arizona Territory. There were chapters on the cities, the Indians, the wildlife, the plant life. The place she'd marked detailed home remedies for common ailments.

  "Interesting reading," he said drily.

  "Research. When it comes to a good book, it's all in the details."

  Daniel would agree with that, he thought, as he studied the bookmark. It was for one of her own books, showing another half-dressed cowboy. "I think I prefer the half-dressed woman," he remarked as he handed the book back to her.

  "Yeah, well, you're not my target audience." She balanced it on the railing, then turned onto her side to face him. "Did you see Lucy at the Ryans'?"

  "Yeah. She was swinging upside down from the railing around the tree house, chanting something about underpants."

  Jayne's eyes widened and she'd risen a few inches off the hammock before catching herself and relaxing again. "She was not, though it sounds like something she would do. Did she tell you she's staying over there for dinner?"

  "Daniel mentioned it." Tyler drew his knees up and rested his arms on them. "He thinks I should take advantage of their babysitting to take you out on a real date."

  "Did he also think you should ask me first?"

  "I don't know. I don't want to go out, so I didn't ask."

  "What do you want to do?"

  "This seems good for starters. Sitting here." Looking at you.

  "You're way too easy to please, Tyler." She sat up, swinging her feet to the floor, tugging at her skirt. "Like Daniel, I thought we should do something since I don't have Lucy, so I bought some steaks and potatoes and mushrooms and salad mix. And Mom also sent a bottle of wine with the hammock. Do you like wine?"

  "I don't drink." He shrugged. "My father was a drunk. In the beginning, that was always his excuse for hitting my mother—he was too drunk to realize what he was doing."

  She nodded once, sympathy in her eyes, but didn't make a big deal of it. "Skip the wine then. I thought we could cook at your house, since you have a grill and I don't."

  "Did y
ou also think you should ask me first?"

  Her smile was broad and smug. "I figured the food would be enough of a lure."

  She didn't need a lure. For a few hours alone with her, he would be happy with toast and water.

  She placed her feet primly together and tugged once again at the hem of her red dress. "Okay. I'm going to stand up. I haven't gotten out of this thing yet, so if I fall, don't laugh, and if I show anything I shouldn't, don't look." She scooted forward, and the hammock swayed. "On second thought, why don't you be a gentleman and help me up?"

  "No one's ever accused me of being a gentleman," he said. Even so, he got to his feet and offered one hand. When she wrapped her warm fingers around his, he pulled her to her feet—and right up against him.

  "See how well that worked out?" she asked. Her voice was soft, her breath tickling his chin. Her free hand rested on his shoulder for balance, and one of her bare feet was on top of his own foot, bringing her leg between his.

  Just like that, the pleasantly warm evening turned hot and the air became too thick to breathe. His heart was beating faster, his lungs constricting, his jeans growing tighter. He should let go of her, set her aside, walk away and never look back … but he couldn't. He needed this—needed the pleasure and the pain and the touching and the hope.

  No matter what it cost him later.

  He slid his hands to her hips, savoring the heat and the curves, imagining the warmth and softness and pale golden color of the skin covering those curves. Slowly he took a step back, then another, until the wall was at his back, and he drew her with him. Planting his feet apart, he guided her between his legs, pulled her closer until his erection pressed against her, until her hips cradled him.

  Holding her there with one hand, he slid his other hand over her hip, around to her spine, up her back, over her neck, into the disheveled softness of her hair. Gently he tugged her head back, exposing her throat, and he kissed her there, right above the pulse that throbbed. His next kiss was to her jaw, then the corner of her mouth. Abruptly she twisted her head, biting at his lip, demanding a proper kiss, and he was happy to comply.