by Linda Turner
Her fingers still limp in his, Jennifer hadn’t so much as twitched an eyelash the entire time. Logic told him she couldn’t possibly have heard him. But as he went upstairs to wait for her in the room she would be brought to, he smiled for what seemed the first time in hours. She’d heard every word—he’d bet money on it.
Feeling as if she was swimming up through a black fog, Jennifer struggled toward consciousness, so tired she could hardly open her eyes. When she did, she frowned at the monitor next to her bed and realized abruptly that she was in the hospital. Her mind a blank, she couldn’t for the life of her say why. Was she sick? Had she been in an accident?
Her groggy mind supplied no answers, however. She should have panicked, but then her gaze found Sam. Slumped in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, his feet propped on the mattress, he was sound asleep.
I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.
He didn’t stir, didn’t move a muscle, but the husky admission came to her through the darkness of the night and the sweetness of a dream only just remembered, wrapping around her heart like a caress. He loved her. Somehow while she’d slept, he’d come to her in her dreams. and told her he loved her.
She must have made a sound—she swore she only smiled—but he was so finely attuned to her that somehow he knew the second she was awake. His eyes snapped open and in the next instant he was on his feet and right beside the bed, his fingers closing around hers in way that felt endearingly familiar.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” he growled softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she said, and was shocked by the weakness of her voice. “What happened? I can’t remember—”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when the blackness shrouding her memory lifted and the events of that morning swept over her like a tidal wave. “Oh, God!”
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he assured her quickly, squeezing her hand. “I talked to your doctor, and he said you’re going to be just fine. There’s no permanent damage and you’ll be back to your old self in no time.”
Her fingers still caught in his, he fought the need to snatch her up in his arms. He needed her close, heart to heart. But more than that, he needed to tell her he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But she was so damn weak. And so fragile-looking that he was afraid he would hurt her just holding her hand. When he proposed, he wanted her strong and healthy and in his arms, holding him as tight as he planned to hold her.
Resigned to waiting at least another week, he said quietly, “It’s over, honey. The bastard who put you in here is in custody at the jail infirmary, and he’s not coming anywhere near you again. We got him, sweetheart. His name’s Masterson, and after Tanner found enough evidence at his home this afternoon to put him away for the next twenty years, he spilled his guts. He’s been hocking stuff in Austin, but the idiot still had some of Mrs. Elliot’s jewelry and Stubbings’s coin collection.”
“He confessed?”
Sam nodded grimly. “According to Tanner, he hung out in places where he could strike up conversations with senior citizens who lived alone. He’d make friends with them, feel them out about their hobbies and valuables, then find out where they lived and rob them. He even watched the obits.”
“That’s sick!”
Sam had to agree. “He met Mrs. Elliot when she had a flat tire—he’d stopped to change it for her. He did some moonlighting with Stubbings’s yard service and took advantage of the opportunity to make friends with the old man and learn the layout of his house. Somehow, he got his hands on his wallet and got the code for the security system. He was making plans to go after a widow in Alamo Heights and would probably have hit her place by now if it hadn’t been for you and that profile of him you came up with in your interview with Jonathan Lake.
“You nailed him, honey,” he said proudly, stroking her brow. “He had a couple of rich old aunts who didn’t leave him a dime after he took care of them, and he felt cheated. When he saw your interview with Lake, he didn’t sleep all night. He just knew some of his relatives saw it and recognized the profile of him. That’s why he went after you. He figured if he didn’t shut you up, you were eventually going to lead either us or his relatives right to him.”
There were other things Masterson had admitted to Tanner, such as how he’d watched Jennifer from across the street from her cafd and how he’d planned to kill her nice and slow as a payback for all the trouble she’d caused him, but that was something Sam didn’t ever plan to tell her. With the kidnapping and attempted-murder charges added to all the others against him, the bastard would never see the light of day again except through prison bars.
Her eyes drooping heavily as sleep threatened to overtake her again, Jennifer murmured, “But I couldn’t see his face clearly. It was on the news and everything. I wasn’t a threat to him.”
“He thought you knew what he was doing every time he stepped out of his house, and he couldn’t take the pressure. So he cracked.” He saw her frown, trying to gather her thoughts, and he leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth. “That’s enough for now, baby. Go back to sleep. You’re tired.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. Before he straightened away from her, she was asleep.
The next time she woke up it was morning and Sam was gone. The wound in her shoulder a tight dull pain, she shifted carefully into a more comfortable position and told herself he’d probably gone home to shower and change. There was no reason to get all teary-eyed and emotional—he’d be back later, after he checked in at the station and caught up on his sleep.
But noon came and went, Rosa paid her a visit and so did Molly, and still no sign of Sam. All she could think about was that he’d told her he loved her in a dream, but not face-to-face. What if her imagination had just been playing tricks on her? What if, now that the case was solved and Masterson was behind bars, the love she was so sure she’d felt in his every touch was just lust that had burned itself out? Was his absence another way of telling her goodbye?
No! she cried silently. She hadn’t imagined anything, least of all how much he loved her. He’d be back; she just had to be patient. He had a job, responsibilities, that couldn’t be put on hold just because she was in the hospital.
But as the afternoon dragged by, fears she wanted no part of crept silently into her room to torment her. Her shoulder throbbed, but it was her heart that ached, and all she wanted to do was go home, lock herself in and not come out until her bruised heart had mended. Considering the way she was feeling, that might take another twenty or thirty years.
When Dr. Rhodes dropped by to see how she was doing, he refused even to think about releasing her early. “Sorry, Jennifer, but it’s out of the question. That bullet hit an artery and you lost quite a bit of blood. You’ve been through an ordeal, young lady, whether you know it or not, and I’m not letting you out of here until I’m sure there aren’t going to be any complications.”
“But I’m not going to do anything but lie in bed. I can do that at home just as well as I can here.”
“True, but you’re still very weak and you live alone. Infection is always a risk after surgery, too. I want you here so I can keep an eye on you.” Looking up suddenly, he smiled at the sight of Sam striding through the doorway. “Come in, Detective. I seem to have a restless patient on my hands. She wants to go home.”
His brows snapping together in a frown, Sam said, “Isn’t it a little early for that? She just had surgery yesterday.”
“My point exactly,” the doctor replied. “She doesn’t realize how weak she is, and even when she does go home, she’s probably going to need help.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Sam told him. “I’m taking her to my place when she’s released.”
“I—I can’t let you do that,” she sputtered. Why would he say such a thing when she was no longer his concern? “Molly will be right downstairs during the day, and Rosa has already volunteered to stay whenever I need her. And
you have to work.”
“I’ve got some time coming. I’ll take a few days off.” Moving to her bedside, he took her hand and said, “Anyway, I want to take care of you myself.”
Her heart lurching in her breast, she stared up at him in confusion and never saw Dr. Rhodes’s knowing smile. “Then I can leave her in your hands,” he told Sam. “I’ve got rounds to finish. I’ll be back later tonight, Jennifer.”
Her eyes searching Sam’s, Jennifer nodded, then suddenly they were alone. Tension hummed in the air between them. In the silence that seemed to spin out indefinitely, he had to hear the thundering of her heart. “Why are you doing this?” she asked softly. “Is it because of the shooting? Because you feel responsible somehow? You’re not—”
He hushed her simply by tightening his fingers around hers and drawing her hand to his mouth for a lingering kiss. “Don’t you know how I feel about you, honey?” he murmured. “I could have sworn you did. I know I acted like a jackass, but I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you....”
His words, drifting straight out of her dreams, were as familiar to her as the beating of her own heart. In a voice rough with emotion, he told her how stupid he’d been, how a man sometimes had to get hit with a sledgehammer before he could see what was right in front of his eyes, and she realized that the dream she’d thought she’d had after surgery hadn’t been a dream at all. He loved her.
Tears spilled over her lashes and she could do nothing to stop them. “Oh, Sam,” she choked. “I love you, too! I know you think I’m too young to know my own mind, but I never have been one of those women who falls in love with someone new every other month. I never even looked at a man until I saw you.”
“I know, honey. I was the one with the hang-ups. If it wasn’t your age, then it was the visions and the way you seemed to know everything about me without even asking.”
“Not everything,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know if you would ever be able to accept me for what I am.”
Cursing himself for ever hurting her, he sank onto the side of the bed and carefully eased her into his arms. He hadn’t meant to do this now—he didn’t even have a ring for her yet!—but a man needed to hold the woman he loved when he bared his soul to her.
“I can’t deny you threw me for a loop, love,” he admitted huskily. “I couldn’t figure out how the hell you knew the things you did—I still can’t. But I don’t know how birds know when to migrate, either. Or why every unattached person who moves into the Lone Star Social Club falls in love within a year, but it happens. Every damn time!”
Her lips twitching at his wry tone, she teased, “I thought you didn’t believe in that kind of thing.”
“How can I not believe it when it happened to me?” He shook his head. “Honey, love was the last thing I was looking for when I met you. Now look at me.”
He kissed her then because he couldn’t help himself, because he couldn’t stand the thought of her doubting his love for her even for a second. Softly, fiercely, with an aching tenderness, his mouth devoured hers. “You made me believe in forever when I didn’t think such a thing was possible,” he said roughly when he finally dragged his mouth from hers. “And when I’m ninety-five and you’re eighty-five, I’m going to love having a young wife.”
She started to laugh, and only just then realized what he’d said. Her eyes wide, she gasped. “You want to marry me?”
Delighted with her shock, he grinned. “You mean now or when you’re eighty-five?”
“Sam! I’m serious!”
Sobering, he took her hand and carried it to his heart. “So am I,” he said quietly. “I’m not psychic. I don’t know what’s going to happen down the road. I don’t know anything except that I’ll always love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you many me?”
Another woman might have needed some time to think, but she never had and never would be like other women, thank God. She looked up at him with a love in her eyes he somehow knew went soul-deep and trustingly gave him her heart. “Yes.”
Just yes, nothing more. With a simplicity that stole the very air from his lungs, she made him the happiest man on earth.
Epilogue
Everyone had said she was crazy to plan a garden wedding for Valentine’s Day. Everyone, that is, except Sam. His blue eyes glinting with amusement, he’d merely lifted a brow at her. “All this fortune-telling stuff is your thing, not mine. How do you think the weather’ll be?”
“Sunny and eighty-one, with a light wind out of the southeast,” she’d said promptly, grinning.
It was an outrageous prediction for February, but Sam hadn’t so much as blinked. “Sounds good to me. Let’s do it.”
Now, two and a half months later, while winter still raged in most of the rest of the country, the temperature was already in the midseventies and climbing. The guests, which included half the police force, took up every chair that had been set up in the garden of the Lone Star Social Club, and there wasn’t a coat or jacket in sight. By the time the wedding ceremony was over and the reception began, the temperature would be pushing eighty. Just as she’d predicted.
Standing at Sam’s side before the minister, all their friends surrounding them as they exchanged vows, she thought the day couldn’t have been more perfect. Suddenly, on the warm flower-scented air, the faint strains of an old-fashioned waltz floated down from the ballroom and gently swirled around them in approval. Startled, she glanced up at Sam and saw by the surprise in his eyes that he, too, had heard it. Her heart full of love, she squeezed his hand and couldn’t help but grin. Now the day was perfect.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6534-9
A MARRIAGE-MINDED MAN?
Copyright © 1998 by Linda Turner
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
“Are you saying I told you I like turkey and grilled onions?”
Letter to Reader
Books by Linda Turner
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Copyright