Her twin brother, Jake, had just enlisted in the Army when Megan got sick, so there was no way he could have come home. But she could have.
“Did I say something wrong?” Michael asked after a minute.
She shook her head, wondering why all her insecurities were rising to the surface tonight. “I was just thinking it’s a shame Allison’s taken. The two of you would make a perfect couple. You’ve both dedicated your lives to helping other people.”
He shrugged. “I think Allison’s great, but there was never any attraction there.”
That was all he said, but unspoken words seemed to hang in the air between them. The silence felt charged, and a tingle of awareness made her conscious of every inch of skin as the porch swing moved slowly back and forth.
When it came to summer nights, Iowa had Chicago beat. The sweet scent of freshly mown grass…the soft breeze against her face…the music of the crickets. She tried to focus on that and not the big male body just a foot or two away from her. After a few minutes she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
She jerked upright when she felt Michael’s arm slide behind her shoulders.
“Sorry,” he said when she turned startled eyes on him. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable with a head rest.”
She hesitated.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “Go ahead and lean back. Close your eyes again.”
So she leaned back, a little cautiously at first but then relaxing against his strong arm. He shifted, and after a moment she found herself sitting sideways on the swing, her head resting against the place where his chest met his shoulder.
It was incredibly comfortable, but she had no desire to close her eyes. Her pulse was racing too fast for that.
He smelled so good. No cologne or after shave—just clean male skin.
After a few minutes he began to stroke her hair. His caress was light, gentle, sending waves of sensation through her body.
Then his thumb brushed against her earlobe. Shivers ran down her spine like water, and she made an almost helpless sound of pleasure.
His hand froze in her hair. Jenna stopped breathing, and they both went still.
“I should be heading home,” she said after a long moment, rising to her feet without looking at him.
After a few seconds he got up, too.
He walked her home, as she’d known he would. And he looked down at her again, like he had last night, in the dim glow of the light above her back door.
“Good night, Jenna. And thanks again for tomorrow.”
She nodded. “No problem. Tell Claire I’ll see her at two o’clock.” She reached for the doorknob, her hand shaking a little, and when the door stuck a surge of panic went through her.
It opened with a jerk. Michael hadn’t moved a muscle during her brief struggle, though she’d been very conscious of his big body looming behind her. His expression was hard to read when she met his eyes one more time.
“Good night,” she said, disappearing inside as quickly as she could.
She went straight through the kitchen and up the stairs, putting as much physical distance between her and Michael as possible.
Wasted effort. Standing in her bedroom, taking deep breaths while her heart thumped in her chest, she wasn’t sure Australia would be far enough away to dull her attraction to this man.
She didn’t think any place would be.
Chapter Five
Claire suggested a trip to the mall, and Jenna agreed. She hadn’t been to a mall in months, and she figured she’d enjoy it as much as Claire.
Well, maybe not quite that much. Claire was literally bouncing with excitement as she pulled her from store to store. They’d been at it for an hour and had already looked at video games, music posters, jewelry and shoes. Now they were going into what Jenna suspected would be the first of several clothing stores.
Claire went straight to the teen section and pulled a low cut top and a micro mini skirt off the rack. “This is so hot. Do you mind if I try this on, Jenna?”
“Not at all,” she said, even though she privately thought the look was way too old for a fourteen year old girl. But she’d decided at the beginning of this trip that she wouldn’t express any opinions that sounded like judgments—she remembered how well that had gone over with her when she was Claire’s age. So she went with her into the dressing room and sat down on one of the cushioned benches in the waiting area.
Yep, too old, she thought as the slender girl came out of her booth and twirled around in front of her. She didn’t have much cleavage, but the little she had was on full display. The top also left her stomach bare, and the mini skirt barely reached the tops of her thighs.
“What do you think?” Claire asked. “I know you’ll tell me the truth, Jenna.”
Jenna had opened her mouth to say something neutral, but Claire’s comment pulled her up short. She looked at the girl’s eager, smiling face.
“Do you really want to know what I think?”
“Of course!”
“Even if it comes out like a lecture?”
Instead of getting mad, Claire grinned at her. “It’s okay. I can take it. You think it’s too sexy, right?”
Jenna made room for her on the bench. “I just think that particular brand of sexy isn’t a woman’s best weapon, and it’s definitely not her only one. If you reduce yourself to that, then that’s what people will see. They won’t notice anything else about you.”
“You always look sexy, though,” Claire said. “Not slutty or anything,” she added quickly. “I mean, I usually see you in jeans and tee shirts.”
Jenna smiled. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t dress sexy very often—only on special occasions, and only when it’ll make me happy. But I’m comfortable with myself, and that always comes across as sexy. Real sexy, not the kind you can buy in a store.”
“Oh.”
Claire stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. After a minute she went back into the booth and came out in her jeans and Radiohead tee shirt.
“Where should we go now?” she asked.
Jenna smiled and got to her feet. “Anywhere you want. Are you hungry?”
Claire shook her head as the two of them made their way towards the exit. “Not yet. I know those clothes were skanky, but I really do want to do something to change my look. I’ve been thinking seriously about a tattoo, but I know my dad would freak.”
Jenna thought so, too. “How about a haircut? Something more...modern-looking,” she added diplomatically, eyeing Claire’s long, stringy blonde hair.
Claire brightened. “That’s a great idea. I’ve been thinking about that, too, but I wasn’t sure what kind of style to go for. But if you’ll go with me...maybe give me some suggestions...”
Jenna stopped walking and looked down at her. “Actually, I do have a couple of ideas. If you’re not afraid to try something daring?”
Claire’s eyes glowed. “I’d love that. Seriously. Where should we go?”
Jenna checked her watch. “I know a great salon, but it’s in Des Moines.” Inspiration struck. “We could get your hair cut and then stop by the clinic on the way home, to show your dad. We could bring him some dinner, too. Unless you think we’d be bothering him?”
Claire shook her head vigorously. “No, I’m sure it would be okay. That’s a great idea. Let’s go!”
And so they drove into the city to a salon that catered to a young crowd. They consulted with a stylist for several minutes before the woman put a big apron on Claire and took her over to the sink to wash her hair.
Forty-five minutes later the transformation was complete. Jenna and Claire stood in front of the big mirror, admiring the result.
Gone was the long, limp hair hanging in her eyes. Now she had spiky layers, their feathered ends framing her face and setting off the delicate lines of her jaw and cheekbones. Her neck was bare, and she was holding her head with more pride, more confidence. Her posture was better, too. She
stood straight, not slouching forward with a piece of hair twisted around her finger.
Just for fun the stylist had added a few blue streaks with a washable rinse, giving her a hint of a punk look that would wash out in her next shower.
“Let’s go show Dad!” Claire said, excitement in her eyes. “I saw a deli next door—we could get sandwiches for dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
A little while later they were pulling up in front of the clinic. “How often does your dad work here?” Jenna asked. She was impressed that with all his other commitments, he still found time to volunteer. “I would have thought a heart surgeon would already have a pretty full schedule.”
Claire shook her head as they walked to the front door. “I’m not sure. As much as he can, I think. Except for when I come to visit, he’s always working, either here or at the hospital. He’s hardly ever home.”
The clinic wasn’t crowded, but as they approached the reception desk Jenna knew immediately that something was wrong. The receptionist looked tense, and she was whispering to the nurse standing next to her with her eyes fixed on a point to Jenna’s left.
“Get Dr. Stone,” she said quietly.
Jenna looked over her shoulder. There were a few people scattered around the waiting room, but the one drawing the women’s focus seemed to be a man in his twenties sitting with his head down, his elbows on his knees and one foot beating a rapid tattoo on the floor.
“I didn’t even see him come in this time,” the nurse whispered. “Where’s George?”
“Left early.”
“Damn. But I don’t want to bother the doctor. He’s with a patient. And anyway, what could he do? Did you call the police?”
“Yes. But Dr. Stone can handle this guy. Didn’t you see him last month, with the husband who started beating on his wife right here in the waiting room?”
“I heard about it.”
“Get Dr. Stone. I mean it. The police will be here soon, but I’d feel better if he was out here. Maybe nothing will happen, but...”
“I’ll get him.”
Claire had picked up on the tension too. “Jenna, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. But I think we should get out of here.”
She took Claire by the hand and turned to do just that. But she hadn’t taken more than a step towards the door when it was pushed open by Michael’s tall, blond friend. The one she’d met last night, and that Michael was here covering for. What was his name? Jim Healy.
Jim breezed into the waiting room, waving a hello towards the reception desk as he walked within a foot of the jittery man. Jenna opened her mouth to call out a warning, of what she wasn’t sure, when the man jumped to his feet and put his hand around the blond doctor’s throat. He started shouting something, words Jenna couldn’t understand.
She grabbed Claire’s hand and pulled her back, as far away from the action as she could. She stood in front of her, shielding her from view, as an inner door swung open.
Michael stood there for a moment, assessing the situation. Jenna felt a shock of surprise when she saw him—in his white lab coat and with that cold expression on his face, he was like a different person.
Then he was moving, crossing the room in a flash. He drove a knee into the man’s side, and when he doubled over Michael took him the rest of the way down. He stepped on his lower back and jerked one of his arms up until he yelped in pain. Michael snapped something at him, his voice hard and incisive, and when the man struggled to get up Michael jerked on his arm again until he stopped.
It had taken him less than ten seconds.
Jenna stared at Michael, unable to look away. Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t seem to draw a deep breath. There hadn’t been time to worry before, but now, after the fact, she thought about what could have gone wrong and her hands clenched into shaky fists.
He’d acted so fast. She and everyone else in the room had just stood there, frozen. He’d gone into that volatile situation without even blinking, and had handled it with cold-blooded efficiency.
Jenna heard a siren in the parking lot. A minute later two officers came in, taking charge of the man on the floor and talking with Michael. They pulled the man to his feet, cuffed him, and walked him out of the clinic.
Michael spoke to Jim, who looked a little shaken but seemed to be all right, before turning to survey the room. His eyes met hers and widened in shock. He strode towards her, his eyes never leaving her face.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Claire?”
“Here I am,” Claire said breathlessly, coming out from behind her. “Jenna got in front of me so I couldn’t see much, but Dad! What was wrong with that guy?”
“Meth addict.” His gaze swept briefly over his daughter, as if assessing her for injuries, and then snapped back to Jenna.
Her heart was still thudding against her ribs. She started to ask if he and Jim were all right, but he spoke first.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He looked like he had when he’d taken down the addict—cold and furious.
“We just…came for a visit.” She held up the white deli bag. “We brought you a sandwich.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “This is a free clinic in a bad neighborhood. You don’t come here for a social visit. What were you thinking?”
Her head was spinning. His anger cut through her like a knife, affecting her far more than it should have.
She tried to pull herself together. He’d just been through an intense confrontation, the kind of thing he wouldn’t want Claire anywhere near. Of course he was upset.
“I’m sorry,” she said, hearing her voice tremble. “I have friends who live in this neighborhood, I don’t think of it as a bad area. I’ve been in much worse—”
He cut her off. “I’m sure you have. And I know you can take care of yourself, Jenna. You make sure everyone knows that. But that doesn’t mean you can just waltz into an unsafe situation. Especially when you’ve got my daughter with you.”
“I didn’t think it was an unsafe situation! I would never have brought Claire here if—”
He paid no attention. “What if you’d gotten in that guy’s way? What if he had a gun or a knife? What if you or Claire—” he glanced at his daughter again, and did a double take. “What happened to your hair?”
In all the turmoil, she’d completely forgotten about the haircut. She turned to see Claire looking at her father with big eyes. “I got it cut,” she said.
“I see that. I also see that it’s blue. You dyed your hair blue?”
“The color was my idea,” Jenna said quickly. “And it’s only temporary.”
He just looked at her. “That is your specialty, of course.”
She stared at him. Before she could make any kind of response, another voice spoke.
“Jenna? What are you doing here?”
It was Jim Healy, looking fully recovered from having his throat grabbed.
She took a deep breath and did her best to smile. “Claire and I came by to bring Michael some dinner,” she said. “We got here just in time for the fireworks. Are you all right?”
“Fine, thanks to Michael. You two know each other?” he asked, looking at his friend.
Michael was frowning, his jaw tight, and he didn’t answer.
“We’re neighbors,” Jenna said after a moment. “I spent the day with Claire since Michael had to...” she stopped suddenly, remembering that Jim was the reason Michael hadn’t been home.
“Yeah, I owe him twice,” Jim said with a quick grin. “The surgery ended early, which is why I’m here. I came to cover the rest of the shift. I had no idea it would be so exciting,” he added wryly.
“Claire and I should head home,” Jenna said. Her face felt hot and her throat was tight.
“All right,” Michael said. His tone was cool, and she couldn’t tell if he was still angry. “Jim, I’ll take you up on your offer after I finish some paperwork. Jenna, I’ll probably be twe
nty minutes behind you.”
“Okay,” she said, and then she and Claire were walking through the clinic waiting room and out the front door.
As soon as she was outside the tears that had gathered behind her eyelids started to slip down her face. She wiped them away quickly, but not quickly enough.
“Jenna, please don’t cry. My dad was just worried about us.”
Jenna looked down at her. Claire didn’t seem upset. What was more, her assessment of Michael’s reaction was undoubtedly correct.
She took a quick breath. “I should be the one comforting you, kiddo. Not the other way around.”
Claire shook her head. “I’m totally fine. Seriously.”
“I’m glad. But, still...I should have checked with your dad before taking you to the salon. And I should have called ahead before we went to the clinic.” Jenna unlocked Claire’s door and went around to the driver’s side. “I’m so sorry you were there for all that.”
“It was intense, huh? Not just that guy and the police and everything, but the way my dad freaked out. He never does that.”
Jenna glanced at her as she pulled out of the parking lot. “He doesn’t?”
“Uh uh. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen him lose his temper. I mean ever. He really was worried about us. You could see it in his face. He was totally bent out of shape.” She smiled suddenly. “It’s nice to know he cares.”
“Claire, your father adores you. You know that, don’t you? You’re the most important person in his life.”
Claire shrugged. “I guess. But knowing it isn’t the same thing as feeling it. Do you know what I mean?”
Yes, she did. And it was obvious that Claire took her father’s uncharacteristic bad temper as an expression of love.
In Claire’s case, that was no doubt true. In her case, not so much. Michael had said a couple of things to her that definitely weren’t an expression of love.
She shouldn’t let it bother her. Why was she giving some man—a man she’d only known a few days—the power to make her feel so damn bad?
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