by Linda Turner
“I couldn’t find a florist that was open so I dug up the rose bush in my backyard,” Turk said gruffly from the deep shadows of the porch. “I acted like a jackass. I’m sorry.”
Stunned, Rachel couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. “You dug up your rose bush for me?”
“I had to find some way to apologize,” he said simply. “I treated you like dirt. I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again.”
She winced. “You don’t have to do this—”
“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I don’t know what possessed me to talk to you that way. I guess I was jealous. I saw you laughing and talking with that cowboy after we’d—”
“I understand, Turk…”
“Then you’re doing better than I am,” he retorted with a wry grimace. “Because I don’t understand any of this—except that I was a jerk. You should have slapped me. But you’re not that kind of woman. I know that.”
Feeling guiltier by the second, Rachel couldn’t let him continue to castigate himself. “Don’t do this, Turk. We all have our moments when we do stuff we wish we hadn’t. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Yeah, right. Easy for you to say. What have you ever done that’s so terrible? Short-changed one of your customers by accident?”
“No.” She hesitated but she knew if she didn’t tell him now she never could. “I decided I wanted a baby, so I prowled the bars in Austin, looking for a stranger to father my child.”
The words hung in the air between them like the sharp blade of a guillotine, waiting to fall. “Oh, c’mon, you did not!”
If she’d have denied it then, she knew she could have made him believe her. But guilt was weighing on her, consuming her, and after the tender, incredible way he’d made love to her, she knew she couldn’t lie to him anymore. If he hadn’t lived next door to her when she’d come up with her crazy idea to get pregnant by a stranger, she would have plotted and schemed to seduce him because he was just the type of man she’d wanted to father her baby…smart, kind, funny, intelligent.
“Yes, I did,” she said quietly. “I wanted a baby. I just didn’t want a man to go with it anymore.”
She didn’t want to tell him the rest, but she was in too deep. After he thought about it, she knew he would figure out the rest of the story. “My friends wanted me to go to a sperm bank,” she continued, “but I didn’t want that. It was too impersonal. So I decided what kind of man I wanted the father of my baby to be, then I went looking for him.”
“Where?” he growled, scowling. “How’d you know where to find this paragon of virtue?”
Trapped, she knew she would lose whatever friendship she had with him right then and there if she told him the truth, but her conscience would let her do nothing less. “The bars around the medical center,” she said simply.
For a moment, he didn’t make the connection. “Bars around the medical center—”
Then her meaning registered. In the blink of an eye, the light in his eyes flashed from surprise to red-hot anger. “A doctor? You were looking for a doctor to father your baby?”
He was furious. And the betrayal in his eyes struck her right in the heart. “I wanted the father of my baby to be kind and caring and intelligent. I would hope that a doctor would have all those qualities, but being an M.D. wasn’t a requirement. I just figured I had a better chance of getting what I wanted with a doctor.”
Still reeling, he had a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that she was so conniving, and he’d never had a clue. How could he have been so naive? He’d seen the dollar signs in women’s eyes when they looked at him and learned he was a doctor—he knew a gold digger when he saw one. He’d never seen that look in Rachel’s eyes. Instead, she’d done everything she could to discourage him.
And that had only made him want her more.
Suddenly furious all over again—damn, she was manipulating!—he growled, “And I moved in right next door. Talk about dumb luck! You must have been in hog heaven.”
“It wasn’t like that, Turk—”
“I’ve got to give you credit. You were damn clever. Do you have protection, Turk? What the hell was that? A trick to pull me into your web so I wouldn’t suspect what you were up to?”
“No—”
“Oh, c’mon,” he jeered. “We both know that’s exactly what you were doing. So when did you plan to tell me we didn’t need a condom? When the timing was right to get pregnant?”
“No—”
“How’s the timing now?” he growled. “Hell, let’s just do it now and see if you hit the jackpot. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? You and what you want? Gotta get you that baby. Well, c’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get at it.”
Before she could do anything but gasp, he grabbed her and hauled her into his arms. Pain squeezing her heart, she should have pushed free and told him exactly what she thought of him. But he was right, dammit! She hadn’t cared two cents about his wishes—all she’d been able to think about was the fact that her biological clock was ticking and the older she got, the less chance she had of having a healthy baby. It was all about her. He had every right to despise her.
Her heart breaking—God, what had she done?—she couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes and spilling over. She never said a word, never fought to push him away, but she didn’t have to. The second he tasted her tears, he jerked back as if he’d been scalded.
His cheeks flushed, and emotions churning in his eyes, he swore. “I never kissed a woman in anger in my life,” he rasped. “I apolo—”
“Don’t!” she cried. “I did this, not you. I apologize. You don’t know how much I regret it—”
“Save it,” he growled. “I know who you are now. There’s nothing more to say. Have a nice life.”
Stepping off the porch, he strode across her yard to his own without another word, and Rachel could do nothing but stand there and watch. Every instinct she had told her to go after him, to make him listen to her until he understood something she didn’t even understand herself. But her feet never moved. He was in no mood to listen to her. She didn’t know if he ever would be again.
Pain squeezed her heart at the thought. Stunned, she sank down onto the wooden bench where Turk had been sitting when she walked up. When had she let down her guard? she wondered. When had she forgotten how much Jason had hurt her and opened herself up to caring for another man? This wasn’t supposed to happen! She wanted a baby…just a baby! Or at least, that’s what she’d thought she wanted. But everything had changed the second she looked into his laughing blue eyes. And now she’d ruined it all. How in the world was she going to fix it?
When she finally went to bed at one o’clock, she still didn’t have any answers. And that devastated her. What was she going to do?
Later, she couldn’t have said when she fell asleep. One minute she was crying her eyes out, and the next, the phone was ringing and it was three in the morning. Startled, alarmed, she knew only one person who would call her at that hour of the night. Her heart in her throat, she snatched up the phone. “Gran? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“The bakery’s on fire!”
“What? Oh, God! I’ll be right there!”
She never remembered hanging up, never remembered reaching for her robe. Seconds later, she was running down the street even as the sound of sirens ripped through the silence of the night.
Turk woke at the first sound at sirens, instantly alert. Ambulance? Fire truck? Not sure, all he could say for sure was that the vehicle was close…damn close. And someone probably needed his help. Throwing off the covers, he reached for his pants.
When he rushed outside a few minutes later with his medical bag in his hand, it took him only an instant to realize that the sirens were not only close, they sounded as if they were right around the corner on Main Street…near Rachel’s bakery. Swearing, he started to run.
Even as he sprinted around the corner, he could see the smoke pouring out of the
attic of the hundred-year-old building that housed the bakery. Two fire trucks were parked at the curb, pouring water onto the building, and a short distance away, an ambulance sat, ready for anything. Red and white lights whirled, and in the darkness of the night, residents of nearby homes drifted out of the edges of darkness, silently watching the unfolding scene.
Rachel…where the hell was Rachel? he wondered wildly, searching through the growing crowd for her. She had to be there. She must have heard the sirens. The second she heard them, she would have come running when she realized how close they were to the bakery and her grandmother. But there was no sign of her, and that scared the hell out of him. She wouldn’t have gone inside….
He didn’t even want to consider the possibility, but the bakery was her pride and joy, her baby. If she got to the fire before the fire department, he couldn’t see her just standing at the curb, wringing her hands, while the place burned to the ground. She would have rushed inside without even thinking about it.
Sick at the thought, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the barrier the police had hastily assembled. He had to get inside, he thought, fighting panic. Had to find her. If she was hurt—
He was on the verge of pushing aside the wooden sawhorse barrier that stood between him and the bakery when he suddenly spied Rachel standing on the curb across the street. She had her arm around her grandmother’s shoulders and was pale as a ghost. Her eyes stark with devastation, she was totally unaware of anything but the fire.
He hadn’t forgotten what kind of woman she was—the argument they’d had earlier in the evening was still fresh in his mind—but none of that seemed important now. Not when she was hurting like this.
He never remembered crossing to her, but suddenly he was standing right in front of her. “Are you all right?”
She blinked, and only then brought him into focus. Immediately, tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Turk!”
“Things aren’t always as bad as they seem,” he assured her huskily. “And luckily, the fire department’s close. It looks like they caught it early. Do you know who called it in?”
“I did,” her grandmother said, never taking her eyes from the smoke still billowing from the business she’d started all by herself, decades ago. “I got up to go to the bathroom and I smelled the smoke. I thought it might be that little Mexican restaurant around the corner—I know they’ve been having problems with the wiring. But then I looked out the window and saw the smoke pouring out of the bakery. I—”
Her voice broke, and right before Turk’s eyes, she seemed to crumble. Swearing, he moved lightning quick to catch her. “Whoa, sweetheart! None of that! Let’s get you out of here.”
“Gran!” Alarmed, Rachel stepped to his side. “We need to get her home—”
“No!” Evelyn cried. “Not until the fire’s out.”
“It’ll only take a minute to check you out,” Turk told her. “As soon as I’m sure there’s nothing seriously wrong, you can come back.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue but simply carried her the short distance home. Clutching his medical bag, which he’d dropped when he’d jumped to catch her grandmother, Rachel hurried to open the front door for him.
“I’m all right!” Evelyn insisted when he gently laid her on the couch in the living room. “I just got a little dizzy.”
“Which is why I’m checking you out,” Turk told her with a slight grin as he pulled his stethoscope out and listened to her heart. His smile, however, quickly faded as he took her blood pressure and pulse. “Your blood pressure’s through the roof,” he said, frowning in concern. “Considering the circumstances, that’s understandable, but I don’t want you taking any chances. You need to lie down until it comes down.”
“But…the bakery! I just can’t let it burn!”
“The firefighters have it under control,” he assured her. “And there’s nothing you can really do except worry yourself to death. Is that what you want?”
Put on the spot, she frowned, miffed. “Well, no, of course not.”
“Good!” Satisfied, he added, “Now that we’ve got that settled, I’ll stay with you while Rachel checks on the fire. As soon as your blood pressure is in a safer range, we’ll talk about going outside again.”
She wasn’t happy about it, but apparently she knew a stubborn man when she saw one. “All right,” she sighed. “Rachel—”
“Oh, no,” Rachel said quickly. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Sweetheart, I’ll be fine.”
“You’re pale as a ghost and you passed out on the curb. I’m not going anywhere until there’s some color in your cheeks and your blood pressure is normal.”
“Then I’ll go,” Turk volunteered smoothly, rising to his feet. “Then I can set both your minds at ease. I won’t be gone long. Here’s my pager number, Rachel. If you need me, I can be back in twenty seconds.”
Even as he hurried out, Rachel wanted to call him back. There was a part of her that didn’t want to know if the fire had gutted the bakery, and she could see that same fear in her grandmother’s eyes. The bakery had always been there, a part of her grandmother’s life, then hers. They both knew every scratch in the old wood floor, every knick in the old countertops in the kitchen. It was impossible to know how many doughnuts and Danish, not to mention cakes and pies and loaves of breads, they’d both made over the years…or the cups of coffee they’d poured for their customers. Everyone in town had had breakfast there at one time or another. It couldn’t be gone.
Reading her thoughts, her grandmother broke the silence that had settled over them. “There’s plenty of insurance, sweetheart. We haven’t lost it.”
“I know, Gran,” she said huskily, squeezing her hand. “I’m still in shock. I don’t know how this happened. I just had the wiring checked last month. And I never walk out the door in the afternoon without checking to make sure all the ovens are off.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing you did, sweetheart. For all we know, it could have been a short in a refrigerator or a mixer. The fire department will discover where it started. We just have to be patient.”
It was hard, however, to sit there and wait. Where was Turk? Rachel wondered, frustrated as fifteen minutes came and went and he still wasn’t back. Surely the fire was out by now. If he didn’t come back soon, she was paging him.
In the end, she didn’t need to. Three minutes later, he strode into the house and announced, “It’s out. The fire marshal’s still inspecting the building, but it looks like some old rags in the attic were the problem.”
Chapter 10
“What do you mean…the fire was deliberately set?” Rachel asked Tom Walker, the fire marshal, thirty minutes later when he came looking for her and her grandmother. “Turk said it started with some rags in the attic.”
“It did,” he said grimly.
“Then how was it arson?” Evelyn asked, frowning. “The building’s over a hundred years old. Those rags must have been up there for years.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe not. The outside stairs lead right to the attic. Anyone could have slipped up there and set the place on fire. The access door to the attic wasn’t locked.”
“What?” Rachel exclaimed. “Of course it was! We always keep it padlocked.”
His gray brows knit in a scowl. “There was no lock on the door. Are you sure you locked it the last time you went up there?”
“I’m positive. I had the heating system checked out three weeks ago and locked the door myself afterward. I haven’t been up there since.”
“What about Sissy or one of the other employees? Is there a possibility one of them needed the attic for something?”
“Not without me knowing about it,” she replied. “I’m the only one with a key, and I keep it on my key chain.”
“And it’s still there?”
“Well, yes,” she began, only to frown as she patted the pocket of her robe for her keys. “There’s no reason why it shouldn’t be—”
“Obviously, you must have set them down somewhere,” Turk said quietly. “What do you do with them when you go home at the end of the day? Throw them down on a table in your entry hall? Hang them on a hook? What?”
“I drop them in the bottom of my purse,” she admitted. “So what are you saying? Someone came in my house, dug in my purse for my keys and stole the one to the padlock? While I was right there in the house?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” he replied. “But what other explanation is there?”
“Let’s forget the key and look at this from another direction,” Tom said. “Who do you know that would set the bakery on fire?”
“No one! This is Hunter’s Ridge, for heaven’s sake! People don’t do that kind of thing here.”
“People do that kind of thing everywhere,” he replied curtly. “Someone obviously wanted to cause trouble tonight. If they’d really wanted to burn the bakery down, they could have done so. This was just a scare tactic. Have you ticked someone off recently? A boyfriend? An ex-boyfriend? A wannabe boyfriend you didn’t look twice at? Maybe even an unhappy customer?”
She couldn’t for the life of her think of anyone. Then she remembered Mildred Johnson…and Benny.
“You’ve remembered something,” Turk said, watching her closely.
She hesitated. “Mildred Johnson and her nephew, Benny,” she finally admitted. “They were both insulted when I made it clear I wasn’t interested in dating Benny, but I can’t believe either one of them would set the bakery on fire.”
“Why not?”
“Mildred’s known Gran forever. And Benny lets his aunt speak for him. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think he’s got the guts to kill a fly, let alone steal my keys and start a fire in the bakery attic.”