The Street Where She Lives

by Jill Shalvis

  Ben would have given her all of those things, and his name along with them. But he also wanted to drag her to the four corners of the earth and never settle down.

  Tonight, she’d looked into his incredible eyes, had seen the love he had for her, and had nearly, very nearly, caved. And yet, ironically, it had been the enormity of what he felt for her that had held her back.

  So, she’d given in to the fear and told him to go.

  And with shocking ease, he had, leaving her here, alone, just as she’d wanted.

  While a little part of her couldn’t help but wonder…how deep could his love really have been if he’d shaken it off so easily? With a choked sob, she put her head to her knees.

  And awoke to the sun piercing in her window. Just a dream, a horrible, wrenching dream. She started to sigh in relief, but the pain kicked in, and she remembered.

  Not just a dream. It’d all really happened.

  But she was no longer a young woman all alone. She had Emily now and they were a family, so anything was bearable. To prove it, she struggled to sit up. Her vision wavered for a second and her ribs sent pain jabbing to her brain. Tightening up, she braced for more. But shockingly enough, despite the aches, bumps, bruises and casts, it was nothing she couldn’t bear.

  Standing up, however, was a different story entirely. She tried until she was gasping for breath and sweating, but she couldn’t do it.

  Okay, not quite ready, she finally decided, sitting panting on the edge of her bed, swiping at her brow. What now? The pj’s were a problem. They were sheer and completely inappropriate for ignoring ex-lovers who were suddenly back in one’s life.

  Yes, he’d already seen her in it, several times as a matter of fact since he’d checked on her during the night, helping her to the bathroom, bringing her water, and my God, the heat in his eyes had given her sunburn. She’d felt his unbelievable wanting, and had actually felt the same. How did one go thirteen years without setting eyes on someone and then see him again and want so badly? How did that happen? Well, however it worked, she didn’t care to repeat it.

  Clothes. Number one order of business. Getting the pj’s top off wasn’t so difficult, her new air casts were surprisingly lightweight and easy to maneuver. She simply nudged the straps off her shoulders with her good arm, refusing to give in to the pain that was beginning to make itself known in her bad arm, and let the thing fall to her waist. With a good amount of wriggling, she managed to kick off both the pants and the camisole in one fell swoop.

  Getting something else on…not quite so easy. Realizing she had no clothes within reach, her scramble out of her pj’s suddenly didn’t seem such a wise move. And…yep, that was the doorbell. Naturally. Because she sat there in nothing but panties.

  Her robe lay across the foot of her bed. Using her good leg, she grabbed it with her toes and pulled it toward her. So far so good. But the terry cloth was thick and heavy, and one sleeve was inside out and—

  The doorbell rang again.

  Damn it! Where was Emily? School already? Without saying goodbye? Did she have lunch money and her homework? And where was Ben? She was almost afraid to wonder, because with her luck, she’d conjure him up here while she sat there looking like a black-and-blue poster child for abuse, huffing and puffing like a junkie to boot.

  By the time she got herself covered—forget tying the sash, she was cooked. She was a complete shaky mess, never mind the hair, or the fact she hadn’t brushed her teeth. Grateful for the wheelchair Ben had left right by her bed, she sort of half fell, half dropped herself into it. Okay, good. Panting for breath, out of shape and not happy about it, she set her hands on the wheels and paid the price for forgetting how bad her arm and shoulder still hurt. “Right arm only, right arm only,” she whimpered to herself, hugging her left arm to her chest.

  But right arm only meant she could only wheel herself in circles. Frustrated, she tried one more time, and let out a huffing scream when she got nowhere.

  “Rachel.” Garrett strode quickly into her bedroom, set of mug of delicious coffee down on her nightstand, and reached for her wheelchair. “Let me help you.”

  Her next-door neighbor was tall, dark-haired and studiously handsome. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and yep, there was his palm digital organizer sticking out his breast pocket as always. Good old dependable Garrett. He mowed her small lawn every Saturday, played Frisbee with her daughter whenever they were both around, and minded his own business. Usually.

  “I was on my porch,” he said. “And heard a thump. I thought maybe you’d fallen.”

  “And couldn’t get up?” she quipped.

  “Well, I knew Emily and Ben had gone to breakfast… I rang the doorbell and called out your name to warn you I was coming in.” He lifted the key Emily had given him after the accident, then unhooked the brake Rachel had hooked on the left side of the wheelchair. “Try that.”

  Of course that worked. Feeling stupid, she sighed, making sure to keep her fingers clenched over the lapels of the robe and praying a sudden wind didn’t whip through the house. “I don’t suppose you’d feed me your coffee intravenously?”

  He brought her the mug. “Try drinking it the old-fashioned way.”

  She eyed him over the top of it, trying, as she occasionally had, to feel some sort of attraction to him. Why didn’t looking at him rock her world, the way looking at Ben did? It made no sense. Garrett was a dentist, which meant he rarely traveled and made a decent living. He gave to charity. He was kind to old ladies. He also played tennis fanatically and had a sailboat. It all added up to him having his own life. He wouldn’t depend on her for anything including entertainment. Bottom line, he was handsome, intelligent and funny.

  And yet…not a single spark.

  As she sipped the coffee, another voice called out her name, and then shortly appeared in the doorway. Adam Johnson this time, her accountant, her financial advisor, her friend and Garrett’s physical opposite. Height challenged, blond, and not athletically inclined, he was, however, extremely intelligent, funny and one of the sweetest men she’d ever met.

  In three separate momentary bouts of loneliness, Rachel had dated him. Each time he’d made her smile, laugh, think. She’d enjoyed herself immensely and might have made it an even four dates—a record for her—if not for the accident.

  And, of course, the fact she didn’t feel any more attracted to him than she did Garrett.

  Adam had one hand wrapped around a dozen pink roses, the other around a thick file—hers, if she were to guess. He could undoubtedly tell her to the penny how much money she had at that very second.

  “The front door was ajar,” he said, moving into the room. “I hope it’s okay I just came on in. No one answered my knock and I got worried…”

  “I’m sorry.” She managed a smile, though in truth all that rush to get dressed and in her chair had done her in. She felt like a drooping flower. A hurting, drooping flower. “I’m fine, really.”

  “Mom!” Emily stopped short in the doorway.

  “Welcome to Grand Central Station,” Rachel said, but then her breath backed up in her throat because Ben appeared behind Emily, wearing cargo pants and a black T-shirt, looking wild and edgy and dangerously sexy. He was taller than Adam, darker than Garrett and, given that there wasn’t an ounce on him that wasn’t hard, lean muscle, he was far more solidly built than either of them.

  In his slow, purposeful way he looked around the room, missing nothing with his dark, deep, direct eyes—not the two strange men in it, not the fact that she wore only a robe or that she was holding it shut, nothing.

  Her pulse picked up speed as his gaze took a leisurely tour over her body. Clenching the robe even tighter, she drew a careful breath. She’d expected to feel a reaction when she looked at him—she always had. But this morning it came with an unexpected twist watching him against the backdrop of the other two men.

  Ben Asher wasn’t the most handsome, polished or cultured man in the room, but he was simply and by far
the most potent, lethal, one-hundred-percent male she’d ever met.

  And she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “Dad and I went out to breakfast,” Emily announced, an unmistakable glow about her.

  Rachel looked at Ben.

  He looked right back.

  “And, um, I’m going to school now.” With her heart in her eyes, Emily looked at Ben. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “Don’t you need to go over something with your mom?” he asked.

  Uh-oh, Rachel thought. “What?”

  “Um…” Emily bit her lower lip, a sure sign that she was thinking. And when Emily started thinking, God only knows what trouble she’d come up with. “After school, okay? I’m late.”

  “Em—” Ben said warningly, but before he could press, Garrett stood. “I’ve got to get to the office,” he said.

  “He dates really pretty models after he makes their teeth white,” Emily said.

  Garrett grimaced. “I’m a dentist,” he offered a little sheepishly.

  “A dentist to the stars,” Emily bragged.

  Ben nodded without judgment, even though Rachel knew this life had to be as completely foreign to him as his world was to her.

  Not having been previously introduced, Adam thrust out his hand toward Ben. “Adam Johnson. Financial advisor and friend to the pretty patient.” He hoisted the flowers, then held them out to Rachel.

  She tried to take them with one hand while holding her robe closed with her injured arm, but as had happened so often since the accident, her brain didn’t quite get the message to her fingertips, and as she reached out, they fell and scattered at her feet. “Oh, Adam.” Frustrated, she sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No problem, there’s always more.” Adam went down on his knees, offering her a sweet smile as he scooped them up.

  “I, um, gotta go,” Emily said, and gave her father a long look that apparently spoke volumes between them.

  “After school then,” he said firmly.

  Emily nodded, turned to high-five Garrett, then threw herself at Ben and kissed him. “Bye, Daddy.”

  “Bye, sweetness.”

  Rachel would have sworn she heard Emily whisper, “She’s in my room, watch her,” but decided the pain had gone to her head. She waited for her kiss, but Emily danced to the door.

  “Hey, Em. Me, too?”

  With a martyred sigh, Emily came back and kissed Rachel, while Rachel felt like a world-class loser mom. “Is it a Monday?” she asked the room, a little defeated. “Because it sure as hell feels like a Monday.”

  “It’s Wednesday, Mom,” Emily said in a humor-the-idiot voice. “Bye!”

  Garrett followed her to the door, then turned to Rachel. “Call me if you need anything.” And with a nod to both Ben and Adam, he was gone.

  Adam straightened, his now sorry-looking bouquet in his hands. He set them by Rachel’s bed, where they drooped in a way Rachel sympathized with. “I’ve got to run, too,” he said. “I’ve got a client.” He glanced at Ben before leaning down and kissing Rachel on the cheek, setting her file down by the flowers. “In case you want to see that everything is in order. Can I bring you dinner?”

  “Oh, Adam, how sweet. But don’t trouble yourself.”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  AT ADAM’S OFFER of dinner, Emily stopped short in the hallway, then raced past a startled Garrett and peeked her head back in her mom’s bedroom. “Mom, Dad’s doing dinner tonight. I forgot to tell you.” She added a smile because in her experience, a smile always aided her cause.

  Bless her dad, he didn’t blink, much less call her a big, fancy liar.

  God, she loved him.

  “Oh. Well, then.” Adam kissed Rachel again, gave her a smile Emily was quite certain her mother thought sweet, and finally, finally he left.

  Emily again glanced at her father. Yes! He had a little frown on his face, and was watching Adam go from the doorway. Yes, yes, yes! He didn’t like that Adam had kissed her, either! So maybe her parents weren’t falling all over each other as she’d hoped they’d be by now, but this was only day two.

  Still, she’d have to work fast. Her luck, Adam would do something stupid like…propose. Her stomach sank. “This time I’m really leaving.” Without a wave, she raced down the hall, ignored the muted puppy whines she could hear from her room—holy smokes she still had to deal with that—hopped onto the pole and leaped down into the living room just as Adam came down the spiral stairs. Opening the front door for him, she walked him out. “Thanks for checking on my mom,” she said.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Emily. I like to see her.”

  Well, duh. That was the problem. “My dad is here now though, so he can check on her.”

  Adam searched her features, then slowly nodded. “I see.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” A small smile touched his lips. “You’d like me to vanish.”

  She flushed. “Well, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or anything.”

  With a grim smile, he pushed up his glasses. “You want them back together. Of course you want them back together.”

  Okay, that took her back. She’d been very sly about this, so… “How did you know?”

  “My parents were divorced. Let’s just say I recognize the desperation.”

  “Oh.” She winced, thinking he was awfully nice for her to be wishing him so dead. Maybe he could just go far, far away.

  “Emily, you know your parents have been apart a very long time now, and—”

  “It could happen! They could get back together.”

  He closed his mouth. Looked at her with that same gentle smile that speared her with guilt and nodded. “It could.”

  “So, you’ll stop kissing her?”

  Adam let out a laugh. “I’ll tell you what…if your mom wants me to stop kissing her, I will. Okay?”

  She looked into his kind eyes and felt a little bit of what her mom must like about him. Which made him a bigger threat than she’d imagined. And what could she say? It would have to be good enough.

  Besides, surely after another day or so, her mother would want her dad to be kissing her and no one else. After all, her dad was irresistible.

  As she was walking back inside, the house phone rang. She grabbed it up, for a minute hoping it was Alicia, her new e-mail pal. They’d “met” a few weeks ago in her school’s homework chat room, even though Alicia didn’t go to her school. Sometimes kids from other schools hacked in, which she was glad for because she didn’t like the kids in her school. Anyway, they’d decided to be best friends and Alicia, who lived in Los Angeles, had been promising to call so they could talk for real.

  “Hey, baby, how’s your mom?”

  Aunt Mel. Jeez, Emily must not have been that convincing earlier this morning when she’d called Mel to keep her away. Looked like she’d have to try harder. “Hi! Like I said, Mom’s great. In fact, she was just saying again how she didn’t want you to take any more time off work because she’s doing so great.”

  “Really?”

  Emily could hear the skepticism in Mel’s voice. “Really,” she gushed. “She got out of bed all by herself.” Her father came into the room with the puppy under his arm and gave her a long look as he took Patches outside. Emily winced, but kept up the flow of Mom’s-doing-great chatter.

  “So, how’s school?” Mel asked when Emily had finally wound down.

  She winced again. School was a deep, dark pit of hell. She had no friends there, no one who cared. “Sucky.”

  Mel laughed. “If your mother hears you use that word, it’ll be suckier.”

  “Yeah.” Her dad came back in, gave her a thumb’s-up sign over Patches’s head, which meant the puppy had done her duty. But then Patches saw Emily and barked with excitement before her dad could stop her. “Aunt Mel, I gotta go or I’ll be late for school,” she said quickly. “But honest, things are—”

  “Great?” Mel said with a smile in her voice.

  “
Yeah! So stay there and…” What was it Mom would say? She needed to sound grown-up. “You know. Live your life.”

  Aunt Melanie laughed. “Sounds good.”

  The puppy barked for the second time, looking quite pleased with herself.

  “What was that?” Mel asked.

  “Nothing. The school bus. Gotta go!”

  Oh man, she’d just lied to her aunt. Again. It was accumulating on her. This morning alone, she’d lied to her father, Adam and her mother, too. That must be a record of some kind.

  Ben covered the puppy’s mouth and with another long look at Emily, took her back upstairs.

  Hanging up the phone, Emily put her forehead to the wall. Being twelve was harder than she thought.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RACHEL NEVER DID manage to get herself dressed that day. When the party finally left her bedroom, she crawled back into bed, both defeated and depressed at her exhaustion level. She fell asleep and was haunted by dreams of strong, loving arms, by whiskey-colored eyes that saw her, really saw her, and by some miracle loved her anyway, and her own feeble, weak fear of letting herself return that love.

  Awake now, she lay there staring at the ceiling. Her stomach growled and she could have sworn she’d just heard a dog bark, but that had to just be a lingering dream. She told herself it hadn’t been weakness or fear that destroyed her and Ben so long ago, but cold, hard facts.

  He’d had to go.

  She’d had to stay.

  Simple. Besides, that had been long ago. They’d moved on. Maybe they had to deal with each other again now, but the feelings they’d once shared were long gone.

  Her door opened. Ben came in, carrying a tray with hot oatmeal and buttered toast. He set it on her lap, grabbed the chair in the corner of the room, spun it around and straddled it. Steepling his fingers, he peered at her over the top of them. “Eat up. We have a physical therapist appointment later, you’ll need your strength.”

  As if she could eat with him watching her like that. “I’m not really that hungry—”