Hot Mail

by Maynard, Janice

  In time, the boys grew taller, and she eventually came to terms with her body. But she never entirely outgrew the clumsiness, though it rarely afflicted her with such devastating consequences.

  Her boobs were two inches away from smothering him. She licked her lips. “Um, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  He seemed dazed, his pupils dilated, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “No.”

  She scooted carefully down his legs and backed onto her heels. From this vantage point, he looked even bigger and more wonderfully male. She deliberately avoided staring at his crotch. The temptation was enormous (ha! pun intended), but she wasn’t about to be caught leering at him like a frustrated old maid.

  In a matter of minutes, she managed to unfurl the knotted afghan and smooth it over Ethan’s legs. In the process, she accidentally stroked his bare foot, but she kept right on, pretending nothing had happened.

  When she stood up to leave, a thought occurred to her. She bit her lip, her gaze focused carefully on the far wall. “Do you need help going to the . . . ah . . . you know . . . ?”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence, but Ethan got the gist. He rolled his eyes. “I’m not paralyzed, Jane. It hurts, that’s all. And no . . . I don’t think my pride can handle you or anyone else witnessing my contortions while I get on my feet.”

  She picked up her coat and slipped her arms into the sleeves. “All righty then.” Her voice was painfully breezy. “I’ve got to run. But I’ll be back between five and six . . . if you’re sure that’s okay. It won’t be anything fancy.”

  An odd look crossed his face. For a long moment she thought he was going to turn down her offer. “Yes,” he said slowly, “please do. That would be nice.”

  With a sigh of relief—she’d thought for sure he was going to refuse—she picked up her gloves and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Any other last requests before I go?”

  He looked toward the kitchen. “Actually, yes. Can you bring me the stack of mail? I’ll go through it while I’m lying here. Might help pass the time.”

  Her whole body went cold. “Are you sure that’s wise? There are bound to be bills in there, and all that financial stuff won’t be good for your stress level.”

  She knew her voice was too high, her words a babble of nonsense.

  Suddenly, he wore his cop face—the one that said he knew something was going on and he was determined to find out what. But when he spoke, his words were mild. “I think I can manage to open a few envelopes without having a coronary or needing traction.”

  She nudged the remote closer to him with her foot. “Gilligan’s Island comes on in a few minutes. I remember you always used to love that show.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I still like it. But surprise, surprise. I’m pretty sure I can manage to do two things at once.”

  Jane had a few ideas in mind she’d like him to try on her. But instead of suggesting them, she turned away and walked from the room with all the enthusiasm of an outlaw going to the gallows.

  In the kitchen she picked up the stack of mail and swallowed hard. This was her last chance. All she had to do was slip the damn envelope into her purse. But she couldn’t be sure he hadn’t seen it. Couldn’t be positive that he wouldn’t notice if it disappeared.

  She glanced at the clock over the stove. Oh, hell. She had fifteen minutes left to walk back to the shop. If she departed right now.

  With a sense of fatalism, she tucked the lavender envelope between an outdoorsman catalog and a credit card offer. She went back into the other room and crouched beside him only long enough to drop the mail within his reach. She would have stood again immediately, but Ethan grabbed her hand, nearly tugging her off balance.

  He stared at her intently, his gray eyes piercing. “Thank you, Jane.”

  She stood up, breaking his hold, more flustered than she should have been by his touch and his words. “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do. I’ll see you later.”

  The whole time she crossed the room, maybe thirty seconds total, she was aware of his gaze boring into her back. And she was even more in tune to the fact that her wicked little valentine verse was soon to be discovered.

  She wanted to stay and hide behind the wall and gauge his reaction when he read the card. But clearly, she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to stay far away from the dangerous-stalker category.

  She paused in the doorway and turned around for one last look at the source of her temptation and frustration. “Goodbye, Ethan. Take care of yourself. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Four

  Don’t do anything stupid. Jane’s parting words rang in Ethan’s ears. Did she mean something like him pulling her into his arms and kissing those lush pink lips?

  He moved restlessly and caught his breath as the familiar stabbing pain reminded him he was momentarily incapacitated. The medicine had taken the edge off, but he knew from experience that it would take at least forty-eight hours before the tightly clenched muscles in his back eased and let him stand upright.

  God, it was humiliating. He was supposed to be such a hard-ass . . . all fit and tough . . .an example to his men. And instead, he couldn’t even carry out a romantic gesture without crippling himself.

  Not that last night had been about romance—far from it. But what if it had? How likely was a woman—any woman—to look at him with lust in her eyes if he was incapable of sweeping her off her feet?

  He clasped his hands across his abdomen and stared at the ceiling. It touched him that Jane had come by today. And it gave him hope. He’d missed their friendship . . . terribly. And he didn’t know exactly why things had changed between them, though he had a guess.

  If he was smart, he would seize this opportunity to get close to her again. And if he were honest, Sherry’s prodding made some sense. He did enjoy being with Jane. In almost every way.

  He’d never seriously looked at her in a romantic light, but he sure as hell was now. All it had taken was one chaste night in her bed and the chance to dredge up a host of memories. Memories that were funny and sweet and deeply satisfying.

  It was a miracle that Jane was still available. He couldn’t be the only man in town who saw her appeal. But some guys were shallow enough and insecure enough to want the image of a petite woman on their arm. So they could be the big protector.

  Jane didn’t really need his protection. She was strong and resilient and capable of handling her life without him. But suddenly he felt an urgency to look after her anyway. Staying at her apartment last night had been as much for him as it had been for her.

  He’d snatched the chance to get in her good graces again . . . to reclaim the closeness they had once shared. All this sexual subtext was unexpected and new. But perhaps it had been there all along, and he had simply been too blind to notice.

  Five years ago he had been intent on his career, determined to make his mark, to be noticed, to gain more responsibility. He and Jane used to talk at length about his dreams for the future.

  It struck him with sudden shame that he couldn’t remember ever having a single conversation about Jane’s aspirations. Perhaps that was why she had gradually removed herself from his life. Maybe his self-absorption had been boring in the end. Possibly, he hadn’t been the friend she needed.

  Relationships didn’t work when one person did all the giving. If he’d been so focused on his job that he’d neglected Jane’s needs, it served him right that he lost her friendship.

  But he missed her. And until last night, he hadn’t fully realized how much her absence had left a giant hole in his life. Was it too late to reclaim that connection? God, he hoped not. But he’d be a fool to muddy the waters with these new lustful feelings.

  If he wanted Jane back in his life as a friend, he’d have to curb his base instincts. It had been several months since he’d been involved, no matter how briefly, in any kind of a sexual relationship. Despite his horniness born of abstinence, and also how deliciously tempting his lovely Jane was, he’d have to
keep his pants zipped.

  So he might as well get his mind off his dick.

  He reached for the stack of mail and flipped through it. Easy enough to tear up the junk mail and toss it aside. He couldn’t quite reach the trash can, but he crumpled up the pizza flyer and tried a shot anyway.

  Curious, he picked up a medium-size lavender envelope. His name and address were written in beautiful calligraphy. Who in the hell still knew how to do that?

  Something about the delicate paper urged him to open the flap with care. His big fingers felt clumsy as he tried not to tear what was inside. He tossed the envelope aside.

  It was a handwritten valentine or, to be more accurate, a poem, all done in the same flowing calligraphy. Hearts and little cupids decorated the edges.

  He started reading and his jaw dropped.

  A man such as you,

  A man strong and true,

  Makes my woman’s heart break,

  Makes my woman parts ache.

  I’m writing you now,

  As a sign of my vow.

  I’m tired of denying

  This love I’ve been hiding.

  So I’ll woo you with words

  And arouse your suspicions

  Until that fine day

  When we lose inhibitions.

  Tonight when you sleep

  In dreams hot and deep,

  See me come to your bed and

  Then dwell in your head.

  This note’s but the first

  Of a string of my verse,

  So read this with care

  And wait for me there. . . .

  The paper fell from his nerveless fingers, and his face heated. Even though he was alone in the house, he was embarrassed as hell. Someone had sent him a love note. Or a sex note. He didn’t know what in the devil it was, but it made him nervous. Intrigued, but wary. The world was full of crazies. And he’d seen Fatal Attraction.

  Yikes.

  For a brief moment, he wondered if Jane had sent him the note. The stationery looked similar to the fancy-schmancy stuff she sold in her shop. But when he snatched the envelope to check the postmark, his bubble of excitement popped. The note had been sent on Thursday, January second—an entire day before he and Jane had spent the night together.

  He sighed and reached for the remote. Speculation about who was sending him naughty mail took a backseat to his eagerness to see Jane again. He’d be on his best behavior tonight, and he’d prove to her that he could be a good friend. Then maybe they could pick up where they had left off four years ago.

  Jane closed the shop promptly at five o’clock and rushed upstairs to primp a little bit. She brushed her hair and put on some lip gloss. Ethan might think it odd if she changed clothes, so the long raspberry sweater she’d had on all day over khakis and a white shirt would have to do.

  By five twenty she was in her car driving to the grocery store. She picked up a premade pizza crust and loaded her cart with the toppings and cheese she remembered Ethan liked. Twenty minutes after that, she was once again in his driveway. He’d left the door open for her, so she let herself in and walked quietly back to the den.

  He was sleeping again. Poor thing. In addition to Ethan being tired, the medicine was probably making him drowsy. To her dismay, the stack of opened mail near him was crowned with one very familiar lavender envelope.

  Well, that was it. He’d read it. She wondered if he would mention it to her. At one time they had been able to talk to each other about anything.

  She slipped into the kitchen and unloaded her bags quietly. It was an easy task to roll out the crust, layer it with all sorts of goodies, and pop it in the oven. She’d thought about adding a tossed salad, but she wasn’t sure if Ethan felt like sitting at the table, and lettuce covered in dressing wasn’t the kind of thing you could eat on the floor with one hand.

  She dropped a knife when Ethan’s voice startled her. She picked it up and dried her hands on a towel. “Be right there.”

  The first thing she noticed when she walked into the room was that the lavender envelope was gone. Well, shoot. What in the heck did that mean? Did Ethan not want her to know he was getting naughty mail from a mystery woman?

  She couldn’t very well ask about the letter. Not if she wanted to preserve her anonymity. But she was dying to know what he thought about it.

  Ethan’s mind was on other matters. He looked wistful and eager as he sniffed the air. “Homemade pizza?”

  She nodded. “Yes. At least the shortcut version. I didn’t make the dough from scratch.”

  He smiled at her. “I think I can bear it.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Do you feel like coming to the table, or do I need to bring it in here?”

  His hair was tousled where he had run his hands through it. His grin was playful. “If I say in here, does that mean you’ll feed me?”

  Her shock must have been reflected on her face. There was no way in hell to misconstrue that question as anything other than flirtatious. She took a step backward. “You might choke eating on the floor like that. You’d best try to make it to the kitchen.”

  Ethan beat his fist on the rug. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All his self-lectures about friendship and going slow had been for naught when he’d mouthed off a sexual challenge right off the bat. And Jane had responded with a look of horror.

  He rolled to his side and gritted his teeth as he got to his hands and knees and finally managed to stand up. He was tired of looking like a weak, helpless invalid in front of Jane. If it killed him, he was going to sit upright long enough to wolf down three or four slices of pizza.

  It was culinary heaven. Jane had somehow managed to remember all of his favorite toppings and had included them in perfect proportions.

  Trying to talk coherently around a mouthful of anchovies and peppers and two kinds of meat was not only rude, but impossible. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “This is awesome.”

  She had been polite enough not to mention the fact that he was more or less hunched over the table like a troll. “I’m glad you like it.”

  He saw that she had already cleaned up all evidence of food preparation, and his kitchen was as spotless as it had ever been. Still, it caught him off guard when she stood up to leave.

  He glanced at the clock. “What’s your hurry? You got a big date?”

  He said it flippantly, but it was Saturday night. His heart sank. Maybe she did.

  Jane looked at him steadily. “Not a date, no, but plenty of stuff to do.”

  He wasn’t above begging and playing the sympathy card. “I’m bored out of my skull. Why don’t you stay for a while? We can talk. Maybe watch a movie. It will be like old times.”

  She had already put on her coat, and the reluctance on her face was almost insulting. He rarely had to cajole women into doing anything. Something about the uniform elicited female interest and cooperation . . . on every front. But Jane was made of tougher stuff.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The overhead light picked out the gold strands and made them shimmer. As she leaned against the doorway, every line of her body was graceful and feminine. It had been years since he’d seen her in a swimsuit, but he remembered thinking with unbiased male appreciation that she’d measure up well to any of those Sports Illustrated models.

  At last she spoke. “Ethan . . . ” She paused, and an odd look crossed her face.

  He hadn’t a clue what was going on inside her head, but he pressed his case quickly. “And if you’re nervous about staying home alone tonight, you can sleep in my bed.”

  Her eyes widened, and color flooded her cheeks. He tacked on a hasty explanation. “I’ll be sleeping on the floor in the den.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve always been able to get your way, haven’t you?” The hint of amused affection in her voice kept him from taking offense. And, besides, whoever said it was a crime to be persuasive?

  He straightened up another half inch, clamping down on a moan. Shit. He was
in serious pain. But he managed a cajoling smile. “Why don’t you go home and get a toothbrush? In the meantime, I’ll check in at the station and see if there’s been any progress in the investigation of last night’s break-in at your store.”

  “Don’t you think it was probably a teenager looking for drug money or something he could easily turn into cash? In which case, he’s long gone.”

  He nodded. “Probably. But we’ll follow through on it anyway. Even though nothing was taken, the property damage kicks it up a notch. We’d like to track down the culprit before he hits another business.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense. But honestly, Ethan, I’m not afraid to be at home by myself. The window downstairs has been fixed, so everything is fine. I’ll stay and keep you company for a little bit, but after that, I really do need to go. And by the way, thanks for sending Tony over. He did a great job.”

  He swallowed his disappointment. “You don’t have to be brave to prove something to me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not out to impress anyone. It’s my home. And I’m going to sleep there tonight. Like I do every night.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. Don’t have a hissy fit. Now, if you don’t mind, will you please turn your back while I stand up and hobble to the den? This is hell on my ego, and I’d just as soon not have an audience.”

  She flounced around and faced the wall. “Fine.”

  He tightened his jaw against the wave of pain that gripped him as he walked out of the kitchen. Walked? Ha! That was a misnomer. He moved like he was a hundred years old. Real smooth. No wonder Jane was reluctant to stay.

  She waited at least five minutes before she joined him in the den. After a moment’s hesitation, she took a seat on the couch. “Is the medicine helping?”

  He grimaced. “I guess. But not fast enough.”

  “It’s a good thing you were off today and tomorrow.”