Broken Pieces

by Carla Cassidy

  Wearing a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blue polo shirt, he looked amazing. He grinned at her and raised his hands, a bottle of wine in each. “I come bearing gifts,” he said as she opened the door to let him inside. “I didn’t know what was being served, so I picked up a bottle of white and a bottle of red.”

  “Red would be the wine of the night,” she replied. “And please excuse the mess. As you can see, I’m having the carpeting pulled up in here.”

  “Looks like the floors are nice beneath.”

  “A little sand and varnish and I think they’ll be beautiful,” she replied.

  “Speaking of beautiful, you look great.” His gaze went from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, evoking a heat wave inside her.

  “Thanks. Come on into the kitchen. Kelsey has been slaving over a hot stove all afternoon.” She’d feel more comfortable with Kelsey chaperoning. Then maybe he wouldn’t look at her like he wanted to eat her up.

  “Something smells terrific,” he said as they entered the kitchen.

  Kelsey grinned at him. “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

  “Kelsey is my budding chef.” Mariah took the two bottles of wine from him and gestured him into a chair at the table. “Would you like a glass now?”

  “Only if you’re joining me.”

  Those green eyes of his should be outlawed as too sexy, she thought as she found wineglasses and poured them each a glass. “Thanks,” he said as he took his from her, his fingers lingering on hers a fraction too long.

  As Mariah sat in her chair at the table, Jack directed his attention to Kelsey, who was arranging dinner rolls on a baking sheet. “So, you like to cook.”

  “I love it,” she exclaimed.

  “Janice, my best friend back in Chicago, says that Kelsey learning to cook was a matter of her own survival,” Mariah explained. “She was raised on frozen dinners and fast food.”

  “You don’t cook,” Jack said.

  “Mom thinks she’s cooking when she makes a box of macaroni and cheese,” Kelsey quipped.

  Jack laughed. “I have to confess, I’m not much of a cook either. I eat a lot of meals at the café.”

  “What made you decide to be a veterinarian?” Kelsey asked as she popped the dinner rolls into the oven.

  “I always liked animals. From the time I was a little boy. My mother used to complain because I was always dragging home dogs and cats, frogs and whatever else I thought might need some help. Being a vet just seemed natural. And speaking of animals, how’s Tiny doing?”

  “Great,” Kelsey said. “I’ve got him locked up in my room right now because he likes to beg at the table, but I love him. He’s smart and sweet.”

  “And seems totally devoted to Kelsey,” Mariah added. She was beginning to relax as the conversation flowed easily.

  “That’s one of the best things about dogs. They are loyal to a fault,” Jack replied. “What about you? Did you always want to be a teacher?”

  “Not really. It wasn’t until Kelsey was a baby that I really started thinking about where I wanted to go with my life. I liked kids, so teaching seemed the way to go. I also knew the hours would be the most accommodating for a single parent. I’d be off work on the same days that Kelsey was out of school and have all summer at home with her.”

  “You like Chicago?”

  Why was it that when he looked at her, she felt like she was being caressed? She took a sip of her wine before replying, hoping the drink would lower the spike of her internal temperature.

  “Chicago is okay,” she answered. “There are a lot of things about city living that don’t thrill me. But my work is there and it’s been home for a long time now.”

  Within minutes the food was ready and they began to eat. The conversation continued to flow comfortably as they talked about movies they’d seen and shared memories of high school.

  Kelsey joined in, asking questions about those distant school days and giggling as Jack teased her about being the new hot chick in town.

  The food was delicious and Kelsey beamed beneath Jack’s effusive praise. When they were finished eating, despite Mariah’s protests to the contrary, Jack insisted he help with the cleanup.

  Mariah washed, Jack dried and Kelsey put away the dishes. It was during this process that the butterflies began to soar once again in Mariah’s stomach. Jack stood close enough to her that she could smell his scent, a crisp, clean smell that was intensely attractive.

  The large, airy kitchen shrank as he filled the space right next to her with his presence. Each time he took a dish from her, their fingers touched and a spark shot off inside her.

  Maybe it’s the wine, she told herself. She’d had three glasses, more than she usually drank. But she knew it wasn’t the alcohol. It was Jack.

  The minute the dishes were done, Kelsey made a quick exit. “I’ve got e-mail to do,” she said as she headed out of the kitchen.

  Mariah wanted to stop her, to insist that she stay in the kitchen, but she knew she was being foolish. She didn’t need her daughter to chaperone her. She was a grown woman, for crying out loud.

  “Would you like to take our coffee and sit outside on the porch?” she asked. Surely in the great outdoors she wouldn’t be so aware of him. The night air would diffuse the dizzying scent of him, and the old wicker chairs on the porch were far enough away from each other that he wouldn’t be able to inadvertently brush her thigh or touch her hand.

  “Sure, that sounds nice,” he agreed.

  They carried their coffee cups to the front porch, where the evening breeze was pleasant and dusk was just beginning to fall.

  “These chairs have been on this porch for as long as I can remember, but I don’t think my parents ever enjoyed them,” she said as she sat.

  “Too bad, they didn’t know what they were missing.” He held his coffee with one hand and used the other to move his chair closer to hers. He sat and grinned at her, the sexy cast of the smile once again torching her internal temperature to combustible levels. “There’s almost nothing better than sitting on a porch with a beautiful woman and watching the sun set.”

  “You’ve certainly overcome the shyness you suffered in high school,” Mariah said drily.

  He flashed her a grin. “It was my sophomore year in college when I realized the meek might inherit the earth, but shy people rarely get anything they want. I spent a lot of time watching other guys get the girls and decided it was time for me to get more assertive. I don’t have a problem anymore saying that I want something.” There was a heat in his eyes that made warmth flush her cheeks. “What about you, Mariah? Do you go after what you want?”

  “Sure, but before I do, I make sure it’s something I really want and not just a whim,” she replied. She was aware that the conversation had an underlying sexual connotation. How could she not be aware of it with his eyes gazing at her so boldly and that damnable sexy smile curving the corner of his lips.

  It was the most intimate conversation she’d ever shared with a man and the fact that she was having it made her wonder if perhaps she had reached a place in her life where she was open to the possibility of a relationship.

  “You have children, Jack?” she asked, wondering if there were little dark-haired tots living with his ex-wife.

  “No, no kids. Rebecca and I were busy with our careers for the first couple of years of marriage and at the time we might have started talking about kids, we were talking about divorce instead.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He smiled. “Don’t be. We needed to divorce.”

  “Is she here in town?”

  “No. To be honest, I’m not sure where she is.” A muscle in his chiseled jaw became visible. “I hear from her occasionally, but it’s been a while since last time I heard from her.” He sat back in the chair. “What about you? Any stalker boyfriends I should know about? Ex-husbands?”

  She laughed. “I haven’t had time to have either. My priority has always been getting
Kelsey raised. I figured there would be time enough for a relationship when she got grown.”

  He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth and eyed her over the rim. “She looks pretty raised to me,” he said just before he sipped his coffee.

  It had been years since a man had flirted with her and even longer since she’d enjoyed it. But she was enjoying it now. As night fell, they continued to talk, sharing little pieces of information about themselves interspersed with flirtatious banter.

  It was close to ten when he stood to leave. “As much as I hate to say good night, I’ve got to get back to the office and check on a couple of sick animals.”

  “It’s been nice.” Mariah got up from her chair, surprised at just how much she’d enjoyed the evening.

  “Enough to do it again?” he asked. He stepped close to her, so close she could once again smell him, could feel the heat that radiated from his body.

  Her heart hitched in her chest, the beat accelerating to a near fever pitch. He didn’t touch her in any way, but she felt touched by the gleam of his eyes as they gazed at her, by the faint stir of his breath against her face.

  “You know this is foolish,” she said a bit unsteadily. “As soon as this house is ready to be put on the market, I’m heading back to Chicago.”

  “From what I could see, it looks like it’s going to be a while before that happens,” he replied. “There’s nothing that says you can’t be a little foolish in the meantime.” He smiled wickedly. “And I’m just the man to be foolish with.”

  “Call me,” she replied.

  “I will. I’d also like to kiss you.”

  “Okay.” The single word was a nervous breath.

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes, pleasure sweeping her from the point of contact to her very toes.

  She tilted her face upward, fully expecting him to claim her lips. Instead he stepped back from her and she opened her eyes to see his smile. “Good night, Mariah.”

  “Good night, Jack.”

  She watched as he walked down the stairs and toward his car. A whispered sigh escaped her. The man was something else. He’d told her he wanted to kiss her, and what he’d managed to do was make her want him to kiss her.

  As he got into his car, she raised her hand to touch her forehead where the imprint of his lips lingered. Maybe it was time for her to be a little foolish, to indulge a side of herself that she’d been out of touch with for a very long time.

  He gave a short honk as he pulled out of the driveway and she waved even though she knew he probably couldn’t see her in the dark.

  As his headlights disappeared from view, she became aware of a prickling at the nape of her neck, the odd feeling that she was being watched.

  It exploded inside her, a miasma of gray, a sense of impending doom. Her gaze went to the grove of trees where she’d seen somebody the night before.

  Was he there now?

  Watching her?

  Waiting?

  She took a step backward, crashed into one of the wicker chairs and nearly fell. Her lungs tried to draw breath, but it was as if a bag were over her head, a plastic garbage bag.

  Stumbling to the door, she managed to get inside. She locked it, then leaned forward in an attempt to catch her breath. She closed her eyes and willed herself to calm down.

  When she was once again breathing normally, she straightened. The brief panic attack only served to remind her that even though she was a great mother and a woman thinking about indulging in a relationship with a handsome man, there was still a piece inside her that was broken, a piece of her soul that her attacker had taken with him. And in its place he’d left fear and a sense of painful vulnerability.

  As she climbed the stairs to her room, she mentally grabbed on to the memories of the time spent with Jack, knowing they would warm the icy center that had formed inside her.

  Chapter 11

  Clay hated working the night shift, although he supposed he was better off at his office than at home. Sherri was still pissed off at him and had him sleeping on the sofa, and was talking to him only when it was absolutely necessary.

  He got up from his desk and walked over to the coffeemaker, where the thick liquid inside the carafe smelled like it had been warming for months.

  Most nights in Plains Point were quiet ones. Occasionally on a Friday or Saturday night somebody would get too liquored up and start a fight in one of the bars and Clay or one of his men would have to go out and take care of it.

  The call from Mariah the night before had been the first time in a long time he’d left the office at night on any kind of an issue.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee, then carried it back to his desk. He’d just sat when Roger Francis came in. It was obvious Roger had spent part of the evening with his nose in the sauce. He swaggered in and plopped himself in the chair opposite Clay’s desk.

  “What are you doing out this late on a weeknight?” Clay asked his friend.

  “Had a few beers at Larry’s and thought I’d stop in here before heading home to the little woman.” Roger rubbed the end of his nose. Beer always made his nose itch. “Any news on Missy Temple?”

  Clay shook his head. “Nothing. I talked to her friends and most of them think that she ran off, said she’d been talking about getting out of here for months.”

  “Marianne told me that Sherri told her you had to run out to Mariah’s place last night.”

  “She thought she saw somebody lurking around in the trees near the house. It freaked her out, but when I got there I didn’t find anything.” Clay took a sip of the coffee and winced at the bitterness.

  Roger leaned forward, a sly grin on his face. “Tell me the truth, she still rev your engine?”

  “Jeez, Roger.” Clay shot a glance at his doorway, hoping nobody was on the other side listening in. “Of course not. You know I’m a one-woman man. Sherri’s the only one who revs my engine.”

  “Still, you’ve got to admit, Mariah is as hot now as she was in high school.” He itched his nose again and leaned back in the chair. “You know if you wouldn’t have gone after her back then, I would have. She was one of the best-looking girls in school. I’ll bet she was hot under the sheets.”

  Clay thought about lying, about telling Roger that he’d knocked off a piece of Mariah every night that they’d been seeing each other. “I wouldn’t know,” he said truthfully. “Mariah and I didn’t do anything but kiss. Back then she wasn’t ready to do anything else and I respected that.”

  Roger sat back in his chair and rubbed the end of his nose. “Too bad for you. I’ll bet Jack won’t have that problem with her.”

  Clay shrugged. “That’s between him and her. They’re both consenting adults. Besides, I got more important things on my mind than Mariah Sayers and her love life.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how to get back into Sherri’s good graces.”

  “Has she been on one of her tears?”

  “Ever since the night of the barbecue at Finn’s. She thought I was too nice to Mariah.”

  “God save us all from jealous wives,” Roger exclaimed. “Speaking of which, I’d better get my butt home. Marianne has been complaining that I’ve been spending too many nights out lately.”

  “Have you?”

  Roger nodded. “Yeah, guess I have. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, feel restless and don’t quite know what to do with myself.”

  “You feel this way every summer,” Clay reminded him. “As soon as the school year starts and you begin to train your football team, you’ll be fine.”

  “You’re right.” Roger stood. “Guess I’ll head home. See you tomorrow.”

  As Roger left, Clay took another drink of his coffee and fought an edge of bitterness that rose up inside him. As the high school coach, Roger was doing the job Clay would have loved to have.

  When he’d been younger, his life plan had always included football. As the star quarterback of his high school
team, he’d been awarded a full scholarship to Missouri University. There he’d played good football for three years and had been scouted by two AFC teams.

  Then in his senior year tragedy had struck. A bad fall, a blown knee, and he’d become a cliché of what can go wrong when you bank on a professional-sport career.

  After graduating, he’d come home with no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. By that time he’d married Sherri and she was pregnant with their first child. Roger was already the high school coach, all his other buddies had settled into jobs and he was drifting.

  It had been Sherri who had encouraged him to run for sheriff. She loved the idea of being the sheriff’s wife. Nobody had been more surprised than Clay when he’d been elected.

  For the last ten years being sheriff had involved little more than directing his men where to set up traffic stops, breaking up fights and dealing with the occasional robbery.

  He knew what people said about him. Clay Matheson was a good man, a fair man, adored by his wife and children. He kept the streets of Plains Point safe and shared the same moral compass as most of the fine people in town.

  If they only knew the truth.

  As he stared out the window into the darkness of the night beyond, he had the impulse to get out of his chair, walk to his car and drive as far away from here as he could get.

  He wanted to escape before the people of Plains Point found out the truth, before his image as a good sheriff, a good man, was shattered beyond repair.

  Chapter 12

  Thunder rumbled in the distance and the air smelled of the approaching storm. Mariah stood beneath the cover of the trees and stared at her father’s study window. If he found out she’d sneaked out, he’d take the skin off her legs and butt with that willow switch.

  As she thought of what her punishment would be, the old scars on the backs of her legs burned hot. She breathed a sigh of relief when his study light went out. Good, now she could get back into her bedroom and nobody would be the wiser.