Susan Donovan

by Public Displays of Affection

  Ned let out a long and low whistle. “Good ole Minton must be a bit slower than you’re used to, huh?”

  “I needed a change of scenery. I’m a writer.”

  Ned bobbed his head in approval. “Anything me or the wife might have read?”

  “Sorry. I write mysteries, but I’m not published yet. That’s why I needed the change. You know—motivation.”

  Ned nodded toward the honeysuckle. “I’d say you were plenty motivated to hack the living shit out of that bush. But I think you may have missed a spot.”

  Joe couldn’t help it—he found himself chuckling and shaking his head. “Don’t much like the smell. Gives me a headache.”

  “Really now?”

  “Really.”

  “That’s Charlotte Tasker’s property you just destroyed.”

  “It is?”

  Ned bent at the waist and pointed to the tangle of stalks coming up from the ground. “The bush is planted in her yard. Some of it hangs over into your yard, and yes, technically you could have trimmed that section. But you had no right to annihilate the whole plant.”

  Joe let loose with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t cut out for suburbia, obviously. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ll reimburse Mrs. Tasker for it.”

  “So what kind is it?”

  “Honeysuckle. The smell was about to drive me nuts and—”

  “I meant the gun.” Joe frowned. “Pardon?”

  “The handgun you own.” Ned Preston had straightened to his full height and was no longer bothering with the smile. “The one you stuck in Charlotte’s face when she happened to wander into your yard looking for her dog.”

  Joe didn’t blink. “The kind of handgun that comes with a license.”

  “Mind if I see that license?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do mind.”

  Ned hoisted up his jeans and puffed out his chest. Joe nearly laughed out loud, but something in the man’s expression put that idea to rest. What Joe saw was protectiveness—genuine concern that he might pose a danger to Charlotte.

  He liked that.

  He liked Ned.

  “You know, Ned,” he said, “I’m extremely sorry that I pulled the gun on Mrs. Tasker. I feel awful about it, and I did offer my sincere apologies.”

  “So you’re not sticking around?”

  “Say what?” Joe’s pulse quickened.

  “Just heard you’re already packing up. The kids said something about it.”

  “What kids?”

  “Matt and the Bettmyer boy. They said you were packing up already, so I figured maybe you decided Minton wasn’t a good fit after all.”

  When had the kids seen him packing? How had they seen him packing? And was this old bumpkin threatening him? It sure as hell felt that way.

  “I haven’t made up my mind about staying,” Joe said calmly and politely. “But in the meantime, never fear, Ned. I have no intention of bothering Mrs. Tasker. I’m busy writing and I just want my privacy. That’s all.”

  “A man’s entitled to a little privacy,” Ned said.

  “Indeed.”

  “Speaking of which, I’ll let you get back to your—” Ned glanced at the decapitated branches strewn all over the ground. He made a big production of sniffing the perfumed air. “Pruning.”

  Joe laughed and held out his hand. This time, Ned didn’t try to cut off the blood flow to his fingers. “Thanks for stopping by, Ned.”

  “No problem, Joe.”

  “I’m telling you, If Joe Isuzu over there is a mystery writer, then I’m the president of General-freakin’-Motors.”

  Bonnie stood at the kitchen counter, tossing the dinner salad. “You can be so skeptical sometimes, Ned. Give the guy a chance.”

  “The man’s a cop, honey.”

  She looked up, startled, staring at the potted oregano on her kitchen windowsill. Eventually, she turned her head toward her husband. “What did you just say?”

  “And former military would be my guess, but without a doubt a cop.”

  She dropped the salad tongs. “You sure?”

  Ned chuckled. “Of course I’m sure. Just don’t know what kind of cop he is or if he’s an ex-cop and why the hell he’s hanging out in Hayden Heights. I smell something cookin’, and it ain’t your fifteen-bean soup.”

  Bonnie busied herself with setting the table, her mind tumbling with this information. She trusted her husband’s instincts—always had—so if Ned said Joe Mills was a cop, he was probably a cop.

  But then that meant Joe Mills had lied to everyone. She set out two napkins and two sets of silverware. That meant he wasn’t the man he proclaimed to be. That meant he might not be the safest person to be living next to Charlotte and the kids.

  Yes, Bonnie had promised Charlotte she would never breathe a word of what had happened thirteen years ago, but if Ned was right, what was the responsible thing to do?

  “So, honey…” She brought two steaming bowls of soup to the table and passed the plate of corn bread to Ned. She watched him slather the triangle with cholesterol-free spread. “Do you think Joe Mills might be hiding something? Like the real reason he’s here?”

  Ned took a huge bite and shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

  Bonnie brought the soupspoon to her mouth and took a sip. She was aiming for a casual tone of voice but didn’t know if she could hide her anxiety from the man who knew her so well. “I just wonder, honey…”

  Ned was dipping his corn bread into his soup. “About what?”

  “Well, that maybe Joe Mills’s real reason for being here is to be near Charlotte.”

  Ned stopped dipping and looked across the table at his wife. “Go on.”

  “Well, I think they might have met each other a long time ago.” Bonnie waved her spoon through the air. “I think I remember Charlotte saying something or other about that.” She took another sip of soup, cringing when she heard the seriousness of Ned’s voice.

  “Let’s have it, Bon.”

  “Oh, I can’t!” Bonnie jumped up from her seat, the ladder-back chair scraping along on the floor. She pulled her arms around herself, her back to Ned. “It’s just that now I’m worried that it isn’t a coincidence.”

  “When did she meet him?”

  “Thirteen years ago, right before she graduated from nursing school in Maryland.” Bonnie turned back to Ned. “Right before Kurt proposed to her.”

  Ned frowned but still ate. “I’m listening.”

  “They didn’t exchange names.”

  Ned looked up at Bonnie with a quizzical expression. “You mean they passed each other in a 7-Eleven or something?”

  “Well, no. Not exactly.”

  “Did they have some kind of fling or something?”

  “I can’t really say.”

  Ned laughed, corn-bread crumbs dribbling into his soup. “This sounds hot.”

  “Ned, it’s Charlotte’s private business. I’m just worried about her—why that man is really here.”

  Ned put down his spoon. “So how hot was it?”

  Bonnie bit her lip. “Side-of-the-road hot.”

  “What?” Ned stopped chewing and blinked. “Are we talking about Charlotte Tasker, the good girl we know and love?”

  “The same.”

  “And she’s sure it was him?”

  Bonnie nodded soberly. “Oh, my. She’s sure.”

  Chapter Ten

  Charlotte checked her watch. She had fifty-two minutes until she had to pick up the kids at school, and with a quick survey of the yard she calculated she could finish mowing and still have time to use the power trimmer along the driveway.

  It was truly hot today—the first hot day of spring—and the sun felt deliciously good on her skin. She checked her chest to make sure she wasn’t getting red, hoping the SPF 20 would do the trick, and could almost hear the freckles popping to life between her boobs. She adjusted the cups of her swimsuit top for modesty’s sake.

  Charlotte bumped along, rock music blaring from her earphones, and she
grinned with pleasure. She didn’t mind mowing the lawn. Kurt had always done it, so she’d only recently discovered how relaxing it was. It was like meditating, only with engine noise. And what a sense of accomplishment a freshly mown lawn provided! All those straight green rows! It was infinitely more satisfying than housework. With housework, no matter how many hours you put in, the kids could erase any evidence of your labor in minutes. But lawns stayed mown up to a whole week! Not even two kids and a dog could unmow a lawn.

  Charlotte breathed deep, loving the smell of cut grass, the feel of the sweat beading on her forehead under the brim of her ball cap. As she rounded the side of the utility shed, she cocked her head in surprise. Now that was odd—what in the world had happened to her honeysuckle bush?

  Charlotte turned off the riding mower, pulled off her headset, and charged over toward the flowering vines. It looked like it had been run over. Mutilated.

  She stomped into the Connors’ yard and bent down for a closer examination. At least half of it had been chopped to the stalks!

  “Sorry about the bush.”

  Charlotte jumped. She spun around, saw Joe, and immediately checked to see if he was armed. No gun today. Then she checked to see if LoriSue was with him. She wasn’t. Then she let her eyes move to his face. And she stared at him in awe.

  The man standing there in the sunshine, his hands at his sides, his bare toes wriggling in the grass, was indeed the man she’d known all those years ago. But he was no longer young. His eyes were deeper. They had mellowed. They were maybe just a little sad.

  Joe smiled, and she tried to place what was different about that smile. Maybe it was the addition of the little goatee, which provided a neat frame around that wide, provocative mouth of his. She liked it. In fact, Charlotte could still feel how the short whiskers had brushed against her lips when he kissed her. The longer hair that curled at the nape of his neck and behind his ears—that suited him, too. It gave him that just-rolled-out-of-the-sack look.

  Talk about overkill.

  This man seemed so out of place just inches away from her, right there in broad daylight. She was used to seeing him only in the dark recesses of her imagination, at night, through a fog of desire.

  “You’ve got a nice singing voice, Charlotte.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just now. When you were mowing.”

  “You could hear me sing over the mower? I had no idea I was that loud.”

  Joe’s mouth quirked into a half smile. “Well, I couldn’t tell if it was Ozzy Osborne or the Osmonds, but I heard you all right.”

  Charlotte became painfully aware of her own clothing choice for the afternoon: denim cutoffs, grass-stained sneakers, a pink bikini top, and Hank’s yellow Minton Little League hat. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she grabbed onto a decapitated honeysuckle twig.

  “You did this to my bush?”

  He winced. “Sorry about that.”

  “But I love honeysuckle! Why did you do that?”

  Joe took a step closer to her. “Do you have a minute?”

  “For what?” She watched him run a hand through his hair like he was mustering his courage. It seemed that thirteen years ago he’d been a hell of a lot more sure of himself than he was today.

  “Talk. I think maybe I need to explain something to you.”

  “Explain what? LoriSue’s little welcome-to-the-neighborhood visits?”

  He tilted his head and stared at her. “You know about those?”

  Charlotte was getting steamed. “Sure do, Joe. I saw her leaving your place yesterday. Hope you’re getting everything you want.”

  Joe chuckled and shrugged. “It’s generous of her, I suppose, but I can’t use half of what she’s giving me.”

  Charlotte let out a loud hoot, amused at what an insensitive jerk her fantasy boy had turned out to be. It didn’t seem to bother him one bit that he’d pushed her away and then turned right around and done the deed with LoriSue! What had happened between them thirteen years ago meant nothing to him, obviously. It was a godsend that LoriSue got to him first, because the guy was bad news.

  Not to mention that he was a liar—Charlotte knew too well that Joe Mills could handle anything a woman might give him.

  Joe shrugged. “I mean, a man can only take so much chutney.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Charlotte tried to walk away, but Joe grabbed her forearm. Despite everything, his touch made her breath catch.

  “Charlotte?” He turned her and looked into her face as if he was truly concerned for her feelings. “LoriSue is leaving gift baskets on my front stoop. We are talking about the same thing, correct?”

  “Gift baskets?” Charlotte couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open.

  “Muffin mixes and fancy vinegars and crap I don’t even know what to do with.” A crooked smile spread across his face. “That’s all she’s been giving me.”

  Charlotte covered her eyes with her gardening gloves and wanted to die right there. She heard Joe laughing softly and she joined in.

  She peeked at him. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.” He released his hand from her arm. “Thanks for looking out for my best interests, though.”

  “We take care of each other in Hayden Heights.”

  Joe nodded, and Charlotte watched his expression turn wistful. “Look. About the other night—”

  “There’s no need to explain. I’m sorry I behaved like that. I’m usually not such a—”

  “Don’t be sorry for anything, Charlotte. Is there somewhere we can sit down?”

  “I’m fine here. And the kids are coming home soon.”

  “Ahh, right.” Joe cleared his throat. “Well.” He seemed nervous, and his gaze wandered onto her freckled chest and dragged its way down her belly. Charlotte tried to suck in her gut without him noticing.

  Joe redirected his gaze to her face. “I have one thing to tell you and two questions to ask, and then I won’t bother you again.”

  The way he looked at her, with such earnestness, made her think of her own little boy. She didn’t understand how she made that connection, but her heart softened to Joe and whatever it was he wanted to say. She must be the biggest sucker on the planet.

  “Go on.”

  “You need to know that I tried to find you after that day, Charlotte. I looked a long time.” She could not move.

  “And the first question I have is—” Joe shook his head and laughed, his black eyes sparkling. “Damn, girl! Put me out of my misery and tell me whose Miata you were you driving that day, would you?”

  She wasn’t prepared for that question and found herself laughing nervously. He’d looked for her? She felt like the ground was rolling under her feet, like she might lose her balance. “The car belonged to the girlfriend of one of my boyfriend’s roommates.”

  Joe smiled and shook his head. “And I bet she had no idea her man lent it to you.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Maybe not. He gave it to me to drive because it was a special occasion. I was on my way to—” She stopped, unable to complete the sentence that would have included the words Kurt and propose. It seemed like blasphemy, under the circumstances.

  He took another step toward her, so close that she could smell him—heat and soap and Joe.

  “I looked for about six months, Charlotte—tracked down every blue Mazda Miata in the state of Maryland. Then I got transferred with my job. I always hoped I’d see you again.”

  This was more than she’d bargained for, and Charlotte turned on her heels and headed back to the mower. She needed to end this conversation. She needed to hop back on the Cub Cadet and put the headphones back over her ears and forget she’d ever heard the words he’d just spoken. It was too much. Far too much for her to handle.

  But his hand touched her shoulder.

  “Do you know you kissed me so hard that day that you broke my tooth?”

  “What?” She spun around and examined the smile that greeted her. So that’
s what was different! He had a little snip off the inside of his left front tooth! She’d remembered his smile as blazing perfection, but now it was flawed, rakish, sexy as all get-out.

  She absently ran her tongue along her bottom lip, then said, “No shit?”

  Joe tapped a finger on his front incisor. “You owe me. And remember, you don’t cuss.”

  “Damn—I really did that to you? I’m so sorry! I… uhm—” She couldn’t stop licking her own bottom lip, horrified to know that the crack she’d heard had been one of his teeth! She’d been so out of control that day. What had she been thinking?

  “I have just one more question.”

  She raised her eyes and scanned his entire face, nearly falling backward as she looked up at him from under the brim of the ball cap. He was so dark and beautiful that it overwhelmed her. He was too close. He was too real. He’d looked for her.

  “The day we met—”

  His pupils were bottomless, compelling. She once thought of him as the devil, the devil with a fishing pole, if she remembered correctly. So who was he now, and what did he mean when he said he’d never bother her again?

  She felt Joe’s gaze as it explored her face, and watched as his smile turned to an expression of tenderness. Worry, even. It was as if he suddenly expected her to shatter into pieces or blow away in the wind.

  She flinched at the feel of his fingertips brushing the side of her cheek.

  “I need to know, Charlotte. Please tell me the truth.”

  Oh God. She knew exactly what he was asking. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, tracing the invisible scar, paralyzing her.

  “Did you give me your virginity that day?”

  Charlotte spun away from his eyes, his touch, his words, and was about to hoist herself into the seat of the riding mower when his arms encircled her. With gentleness, he pulled her back against him. As he continued to talk, she felt his breath on the side of her damp neck.

  “It’s important to me. I have a right to know.”

  Charlotte didn’t consider herself a coward. She’d faced so much and held it together for so long that she could surely answer this simple question. And the truth was, he did deserve to know. She wanted him to know, in fact.