Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “Thank you,” she said, her gaze flitting around the room. She ran a hand over the silky-smooth fabric of the skirt of her dress. “I thought it was a nice change from the navy suits and scrubs I usually wear.”

  “You’re right,” he said as he fought a hard battle not to stare at the woman and the dress yet again.

  This time a bemused smile curved her lips as though she could read his mind and was flattered.

  He smiled, as well, but only for about half a second. Then he realized that Manny was right; she needed to know the truth about him and about his involvement in the decision to destroy her home.

  Matt cleared his throat, working up courage. “Listen, Anne, there’s something you should know about the Paradise Lake construction project.”

  “Is it something about my house?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at him, thinking, her dark eyes confused. Then something changed. Her expression became resolute and she held up a palm and met his gaze. “No.”

  “No-o?” He dragged out the word, waiting for her to continue.

  “I don’t want to think about that or talk about it tonight. I’ve turned it over to the Lord an additional ten times today and for a few hours I’m going to do something out of character by relaxing and having fun.”

  He knew he shouldn’t be relieved, but he was. Eventually he’d pay the price for the reprieve she had handed him, though it wouldn’t be tonight. No, not tonight. “Well, I can’t argue with that,” he said.

  Matt dared to shoot a glance at the small dance floor to his right, where the band, consisting of mostly Paradise senior citizens, had begun a slow number.

  Anne’s boss, Dr. Nicholas Evans, the hospital’s director, strode toward them from across the room.

  “Matt, I see you’ve met Anne.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Band sounds great, doesn’t it? Why aren’t you young people dancing?”

  Matt turned to her as the doctor walked away. “You heard the man. Would you care to dance?”

  “But your ankle.”

  “I’m fine. No fancy moves, that’s all.”

  “Well...”

  “Your boss pretty much just ordered you to dance.”

  A tiny smile urged her lips upward and she glanced from him to the dance floor and back again.

  Matt was encouraged.

  “What do you say?”

  She took a deep breath and gave a “barely there” nod of her chin.

  She placed her hand in his palm and he did his best not to let her see how the simple act affected him after all these years.

  The music required merely a gentle sway and very little real movement. One hand held hers and the other was carefully positioned and lightly placed at the small of her back.

  Anne’s fingers were gently splayed upon his lapel. Her dark, silky hair skimmed his chin each time she turned her head. Vanilla and flowery shampoo mingled, filling his senses.

  He could have stayed like this for a very long time, he realized.

  They moved silently for minutes, somewhat stiffly, until he finally felt her relax in his arms.

  “This is a nice little get-together,” he said.

  “Yes. Paradise is known for events like these. Founder’s Day. Fourth of July. We especially like holidays.”

  “Where do you fit into all of this?” he asked.

  “‘All of this’?” Her head tilted back as she looked up at him, the dark eyes speculative. “Paradise is my home. What do you mean?”

  “I mean this hospital. The new emergency department. They’ll start breaking ground on that in the fall. Is that your future?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”

  “No?” She paused for a moment, as though considering her response. “It’s funny you should ask me that, because lately I’ve been trying to figure out exactly that. Where do I figure in the future of the hospital?” A measure of concern filled her eyes. “I haven’t even dared to say that out loud until now.”

  “You’ve been here how long?”

  “Oh, I was a volunteer first, and this has been the only nursing job I’ve ever had. So it’s been a long time.”

  “Why aren’t you happy?”

  She shook her head, her gaze registering confusion. “I thought I was.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured.

  “What exactly is on your mind, Matt?”

  “I’m wondering if it will bother you that I’m staying in Paradise for the duration. I mean if we get the hospital contract, it’ll be another year at least.

  “Why would that bother me?”

  She stopped moving and he nearly tripped.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “No. My fault.” She looked up at him. “Why would it bother me?”

  “I’m just checking. Wondering if we can get to a place where we can be comfortable around each other again.”

  The music ended and Anne stepped back, remorse on her face. “Matt, I’m so sorry. I’ve been thinking about our conversation at the café and I don’t think I’ve ever really apologized for...”

  This time it was Matt who held up a palm. “My turn to say no. We need to discuss the past, but tonight isn’t the right time. For this evening let’s pretend we’re old friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “Yes. That was my plan.”

  Anne nodded and his heart swelled with hope. It was a good place to begin. To start over.

  Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.

  Yes, Lord, that’s exactly right. Did he dare hope? Could he have a future here in Paradise? Why not?

  Matt smiled down at the woman in front of him.

  Then he remembered her house.

  * * *

  “Let me get this straight. You can’t ask him about the house, but you can dance with him?”

  Anne slid into her seat next to Marta.

  “Dr. Evans practically insisted on it. I only did it to be polite.” She adjusted her dress and reached for her iced tea goblet.

  “Yes. I can see that.” Marta nodded toward the dance floor. “We have a very polite little town. Getting more polite by the minute.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The man has danced with every single woman in the room. Except me, of course.”

  “Has he?” Anne turned her head back to the crowded dance floor. Sure enough, Matt was dancing with Sally-Ann from Paradise’s only beauty salon. Suddenly her time with Matt lost its significance. Then she remembered his words from the café.

  “I think it’s all about networking.”

  Marta laughed. “Networking? I don’t think so. They all asked Matt to dance. He’s doing a good job, too.”

  Anne didn’t answer. Determined to avoid looking back at him a second time, she sipped her tea. Matt’s dance partners were none of her business. None. He was a handsome man, below the age of sixty-five, which made him a rare and precious commodity in Paradise.

  After a few minutes Marta reluctantly turned around. “Did you ever get an appointment with the mayor?”

  “No, but his secretary said he did want to speak with me. She suggested I show up early to the town meeting.”

  “When is that?”

  “In two weeks. Remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Well, it gives you plenty of time to talk to Matt.”

  “Oh, look, Luke Nelson is dancing with your daughter. They look good together.”

  “Do they?” Marta asked. “I sort of had my heart set on Megan falling in love with Sheriff Sam. The nurse and the sheriff. Sounds perfect to me.”

  “Sam will never marry. You know that.”r />
  “Those wounded types are so attractive. Don’t you think?”

  Anne laughed. “Maybe you should be writing books instead of being a professional matchmaker.”

  “I just might do that. After I get my daughter taken care of, of course.” She frowned and screwed up her face in deep thought. “Do you think Nelson is marriage material?”

  “He’s got a steady job and doesn’t live with his mother.” Anne assessed the doctor. “And as far as doctors go, he treats everyone well.”

  “You’re right. I’ve seen him at church, too.” Marta narrowed her eyes. “I wonder if he likes kids.”

  Anne couldn’t resist a laugh. “Does she know about your plot?”

  “Of course not, but she’s been a widow for five years now. Those kids need a daddy and she needs someone to share life’s adventures with.”

  “Seriously? ‘Share life’s adventures’? That sounds like a logo for a dating site.” Anne chuckled. “Maybe your daughter likes being single. I like it.”

  “So you say, though I can tell that you most certainly don’t look all that happy to me.”

  “We weren’t talking about me.” Anne wiped the condensation from her goblet. “Have you considered letting things play out on their own?”

  “Don’t be silly, Megan is almost as oblivious as you.”

  “What does that mean?” This time she turned to her friend, almost afraid of the bluntly honest response she would be certain to receive.

  “It means that you probably have no clue that Matthew Clark is still half in love with you.”

  “Marta, he hasn’t seen me in years.”

  “That has zero to do with anything. Men don’t get over love easily. Especially their first love. They tend to talk about the first girl that stole their hearts for years.” She sighed and shook her head. “Trust me. Ad nauseam.”

  Anne laughed. “But that doesn’t mean Matt’s that way. He’s got a lot of resentment inside him and he has every right. I hurt him badly.”

  “Honey, he’s been watching you all night. He may be fighting his feelings, but trust me, the man is definitely not indifferent when it comes to you.”

  Anne opened her mouth and closed it again as Marta’s words reverberated through her.

  Was it possible that she was right? Anne was stunned silent and confused at the possibility.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  What a lousy end to an otherwise enjoyable evening. Anne stood next to her truck, parked at the far end of the parking lot, staring at the rear passenger side where the deflated tire was pointedly illuminated by the streetlight.

  “Yeah. It looks flat to me,” Matt said.

  She turned, half relieved, half terrified to see him again so soon. The light glowed behind him, making him seem almost surreal. But he was real, all right. All six feet and wide shoulders’ worth of him. He’d loosened his tie and his hair was mussed and all she could do was stare while asking herself the same question Marta had not long ago. Why had she left such a man?

  “Give me your keys, I’ll change the tire.”

  Roused from her reverie, her hands moved to her hips. “I can change a flat tire. I’m not the kind of woman who needs to be rescued.”

  “Never crossed my mind, princess, but you aren’t exactly dressed for the occasion, and even you can use a little help sometimes.”

  Her head reared back in surprise. “What did you call me?”

  “Um, sorry. Claire says you’re a princess and your house is a castle.”

  “I wish I were.”

  “That’s sort of a princess dress.”

  She released an embarrassed laugh, knowing his words pleased her. “Is it?”

  “Yep.”

  She glanced down and sighed. Fine. He was right. She couldn’t change a flat tire in a “sort of a princess dress.”

  Matt held out his hand. Anne fished in her purse, pulled out her keys and dropped them into his palm. “Okay, but I want to assist.”

  He shook his head. “Of course, you do. Why don’t you get the owner’s manual?”

  She nodded.

  Matt grabbed tools from under the front seat and pulled the tire from under the truck bed.

  “Here.” Anne handed him a blanket. “No need for you to get that nice suit dirty.”

  “You’re right.” He slipped off his jacket. “I’ll take it, thanks.” She carefully folded the material and placed it on the driver’s seat.

  Matt wedged off the hubcap and got to work loosening the lug nuts, grunting as he turned the wrench. “Who tightened these? The Incredible Hulk?”

  Anne cleared her throat. “I did.”

  “You don’t know your own strength, do you?”

  “As I recall I was pretty cranky the last time I got a flat tire. I didn’t have anyone offering to change it for me.”

  “Remind me not to make you cranky.” He stood on the wrench arm with his full weight, finally loosening the first one.

  Though guilt plagued Anne, she found herself staring as he rolled up his sleeves a little more, which made his biceps peek out.

  Matt Clark had very nice biceps.

  He moved to the other lug nuts, each one as difficult as the first. Fifteen minutes later and he was ready for the jack.

  She flipped through the pages of the book and began to read. “‘Use the jack to lift the vehicle off the ground. Once the jack is secure, jack up the truck until the tire is about six inches off the ground.’”

  “What are you doing?” he asked with a groan of disbelief.

  “Reading the manual.” She glanced down at him before continuing. “‘Remove the lug nuts and pull the tire off the truck.’”

  “Anne.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I got this.”

  “You don’t want me to read the instructions?”

  He pulled the tire off. “No.”

  “So, what can I do?”

  He wriggled the spare onto the truck and lined up the lug nut holes and then lowered the vehicle back to the ground.

  “Here. Put the jack in the backseat while I tighten the lug nuts.”

  When she returned he was standing and there was a large streak of black dirt across his right cheek. Anne reached into the truck and handed him disinfectant wipes.

  “Your, um, face has stuff on it.”

  “You keep hand wipes in your car?”

  “I do. You never know when you might need to sanitize your hands.”

  “Spoken like a true nurse.” Matt wiped his face and then his hands.

  She held out a plastic bag for him to dispose of the wipes. “Always prepared,” he continued.

  “Occupational hazard,” she said quietly.

  But when Matt leaned closer, she wasn’t prepared. Not the least bit. This was premature no matter how you looked at it. Yet she found her knees weak as she inhaled the scent of his aftershave along with traces of tire and grease.

  He came closer.

  Surely not? He wasn’t going to kiss her, was he?

  She swallowed. Her breath caught.

  How would she resist? Like a foolish teenager, she’d dreamed of Matt’s kisses long after he’d disappeared from her life.

  “Excuse me,” he murmured.

  “Hmm?”

  “I need to grab my jacket from your truck.”

  “Oh, of course. Sorry.” She quickly moved away from the door.

  “No problem.”

  Anne cleared her throat and glanced away, suddenly preoccupied with the scattered pebbles in the road.

  He wanted his jacket. Not her. What had she expected?

  Nothing like totally humiliating herself with the glow of the streetlight to illuminate her face. Her cheeks were wa
rm, which meant that without a doubt her face was bright red.

  “Why don’t you go ahead?” he said.

  “Hmm?”

  “You go ahead,” he repeated. “I can follow your truck down the street to make sure everything is okay.”

  Anne gave a tight nod. “Thank you for changing my flat.”

  She dared peek up at him.

  He smiled.

  It would be helpful if he could be a little less handsome and a little more aware of his impact on her. No. Barring complete disfigurement, he’d still be Matt, and the man happened to be humble inside and out.

  “Terrific,” she mumbled.

  “Are you talking to yourself?” he asked.

  She was jerked out of her thoughts. “Was I talking aloud?”

  Matt nodded.

  “I do that sometimes.”

  “You do?” His expression clearly said that most people did not.

  “Another job hazard.”

  “Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you.”

  “Maybe we could go for coffee again?” she suggested, suddenly reluctant for him to leave.

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got a sitter to relieve. I’m sure you do, too.”

  “Yes. Right.” She opened the truck door further. “Thanks again.”

  “No problem.”

  But it was a problem, because the more time she spent around him the more she questioned why she’d left him in the first place.

  * * *

  Matt paid the babysitter; a pleasant teen who worked at the bakery. He moved down the hallway, his steps light. The evening had been exceptional and the perpetual smile on his face since he’d left Anne in the parking lot was proof that his heart was equally light.

  He gently knocked on Claire’s door.

  “Come in.”

  The door squeaked as he edged it open. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in her pajamas, going through a photo album, her back to him.

  “How’d it go with the sitter?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Is that fine good or fine you only tolerated her?”

  “She let me make that chicken recipe that Anne gave me and we watched a movie.”

  He inched into the room. Something in her voice still said things weren’t really fine at all. In fact, his gut told him there was a real problem brewing.