He freed one hand and let it slide lower, over her swollen belly, palming the contours he found wonderfully arousing. So sweet, so familiar.
Guilt hit him hard, like a hot blade to the gut. It should be Karen he was kissing, Karen who was responding with such sweet fire to each stroke of his hand, Karen whose belly was pressed so intimately against his. He pulled back, his breathing ragged.
Lost in a haze, it took Stacy a moment to realize that the callused hands that had been giving her such sweet pleasure were now wrapped around her arms, pushing her away.
"No, I won't go through that hell again," he said harshly, his face ravaged by a pain that jerked her free of her own pleasure and into a pain of her own. "Loving someone hurts too damn much." Without another word, he grabbed his Thermos and fled.
By midafternoon, Stacy had developed a whopper of a headache. And her eyes burned from the strain of trying to decipher Boyd's handwriting. Like many left-handed people, he wrote with a pronounced back slant, the slashing consonants and aggressive vowels all looking alike. His signature was even worse.
"If I had any sense, I'd demand a raise," she muttered, throwing down her pencil. If she had any sense, she would pack her meager belongings and walk out of his house before he took another slice from her heart.
Straightening, she let out a long sigh before pushing away from the table. It was time for her afternoon snack of fruit and yet another glass of milk. She was halfway to the refrigerator when someone knocked on the back door.
Puzzled, she eased it open to find Prudy on the doorstep, a bakery box in her hand. "Friendly Neighbors calling," she said in a singsong voice before offering Stacy a dimpled grin. "Offer me a cup of coffee and I might be persuaded to share."
Stacy leaned forward and sniffed longingly. "Please tell me I smell brownies."
"From the health food store, made with carob instead of chocolate, but still sinfully rich." Prudy cocked a coppery eyebrow. "Interested?"
"If I were Catholic, I'd badger the Pope into making you a saint," Stacy replied as she stepped back to allow the other woman to enter.
"Hmm. Saint Prudence. It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Clearly off duty, Prudy breezed past, a colorful blur in her hot pink shorts and a Hawaiian shirt garish enough to glow in the dark. Her feet were bare, and the distinct scent of suntan lotion clung to her.
"I'll make the coffee, you get the plates," Stacy ordered as she closed the door.
Ten minutes later they were sitting across from each other, blissfully munching. "When I ran into Boyd yesterday morning, he said you were putting his books in order," Prudy said before taking a sip of coffee. In deference to Jarrod's orders to limit her intake of caffeine, Stacy's coffee was mostly milk.
"Let's say I'm giving it the old college try."
Prudy reached for another brownie and nodded sagely. "You have my deepest sympathy." She grinned. "I've spent a few frustrating moments of my own trying to decipher Boyd's scribbles."
"At the hospital?"
"Yep." Prudy bit into the brownie, then wiped crumbs from her chin. "Unbelievable as it seems, his isn't the worst I've seen, but close. Of course, if he'd stayed in medicine, I have a feeling it would have gotten worse real fast."
"Does he miss it, do you think? Being a doctor."
"Only the way you and I would miss breathing."
Stacy broke off a bit of brownie and put it in her mouth. The carob flavor suddenly tasted flat. "Do you think he'll ever go back?"
Prudy knitted her forehead and stared down at the tabletop for a long moment before challenging Stacy with a look. "I think that's up to you," she said softly. "Or rather, you and that sweet baby you're carrying."
Stacy blinked. "I'm not sure I—"
"Understand." Prudy sighed. "Yeah, I know. My ex used to tell me I tended to make these conversational leaps. Drove him crazy, which I suspect is one of the reasons he chose the police force over our marriage."
Stacy heard the whisper of pain in her friend's voice and discerned that the divorce hadn't been Prudy's idea. "Your husband is a cop?"
"Ex-husband, as of five years ago this December. And yes, last I heard, he was heading up a task force dealing with gang warfare. Which is why I felt an instant empathy when I heard your story."
"Yes, policemen's wives do tend to stick together." Stacy rubbed the handle of her mug with her thumb. "Speaking of which, I've been thinking about going back to Wenatchee Falls when Dr. Jarrod gives me the okay to travel. I have several friends there who would put me up until I can retrench financially."
"Don't you dare!" Prudy exclaimed, then grimaced. "Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant to say was that I would hate to see you leave, especially now, which brings us back to the subject of Boyd McAuley and the practice of medicine."
"It does?"
Prudy nodded. "Conversational leaps, remember?"
"Ah, I see what you mean," Stacy replied, laughing. "Or rather what your ex meant."
"You see, it's like this, Stacy. For three years, Boyd's been going to work pounding nails, coming home to work in the yard or on his truck until dark, then going to bed. Exhausted and alone." She exhaled heavily. "I can't tell you how many times I've invited him to dinner or to a movie. Strictly as a buddy, you understand, which he knows as well as I do. But he always has an excuse."
"Maybe he likes being alone."
"Maybe. Or maybe I need to change my deodorant." Prudy's pixie grin came and went "Seriously, he's been like a zombie since … well, since the day he walked out of the OR that last time and went straight to the chief of surgery to turn in his resignation."
Something in Prudy's tone had Stacy's stomach clenching. "Something happened during the operation?"
Prudy pressed her finger to a crumb on her plate, then nibbled the morsel from her finger before answering. "The patient was an accident victim, a coed from California whose car had skidded in the rain. Boyd was halfway through the operation to remove her spleen when he went dead white and just … froze. The OR tech told me she'd never seen such a look of anguish in anyone's eyes."
Stacy sat there with a gooey lump of brownie in her mouth, suddenly unable to swallow. "But why—"
"Apparently the patient looked a lot like Karen." Prudy swallowed and bit her lip. When she continued, her voice was solemn and sad. "Everyone had been saying how brave Boyd was, returning to work only a couple of weeks after the accident. How stoic he was. And strong."
Stacy realized she had a death grip on her mug and made her fingers relax. "Instead of dealing with his emotions, he stuffed them?" she guessed softly.
"Exactly." Prudy took a sip of coffee, then made a face and got up to add hot to the cold. "Except for the rage," she said, returning to her chair. "At himself, mostly. For not saving Karen and the baby."
Stacy stared at the pattern of dappled sunlight on the gleaming surface of the oak table and fought back a sudden urge to weep. "He told me about the night of the accident."
Surprise glinted in Prudy's eyes. "I was on duty when he and Karen were brought in. I think all of us knew she wasn't going to make it."
"How terrible for you," Stacy murmured. The brownies she'd devoured with such greedy pleasure had become a lump in her stomach, and her headache had taken on jagged edges.
"Boyd never cried, you know," Prudy continued in hushed tones. "Not at the hospital, not at the funeral. Not even when he tore up the nursery." Prudy glanced inquiringly across the table, and Stacy nodded.
"I thought it was Boyd's office."
"So it's still a mess?"
Stacy shuddered at the memory. "Like a war zone."
Prudy nodded. "An appropriate term, I think, considering that Boyd nearly lost the battle for sanity in that room."
"Oh, God."
Prudy cleared her throat. "I was just coming home from work when I heard what sounded like glass shattering. I was worried, so I let myself in with the key Karen had given me ages before. I found Boyd in the baby's room." Prudy's f
ace went waxen as she recalled the moment. "He was like a wild man. He hadn't shaved in days and he looked gaunt, as though he'd lost weight. His hands were shredded from the things he'd broken and his eyes… God, I've never seen such suffering in anyone's eyes. I tried to stop him, but he didn't hear me." Prudy drew a shaky breath before lifting her mug to her lips. "When there wasn't anything else to break, he walked past me as though I wasn't even there. He was gone for weeks. Just disappeared. When he came back, he was skinny as a rail and his eyes were old, like they are now sometimes."
"Did he say where he'd been?"
"No, and I didn't ask. I was just glad to see him." Prudy's gaze met hers, and Stacy needed her understanding.
"You care for Boyd, don't you? I mean, really care?" Prudy asked.
Does loving a man with your heart and soul count as caring? Stacy wondered. "Yes, very much."
"Then stay. Let him take care of you, fuss over you, if that's what he wants to do, see you though your delivery."
And then what? Walk away as though they'd never met, with her heart breaking more with every step? "You're thinking it would be some kind of catharsis for him?"
Prudy's face lit up. "Exactly."
Stacy bit her lip and thought about the blaze of need she'd seen in Boyd's eyes, even as he'd pushed her away.
Love hurts too damn much. Yet, before he'd uttered those words, she'd felt the need in him. The hunger.
Did his soul hunger with the same intensity as his body? Hunger to be whole again? To use his skills and his compassion in ways that had to have meant a great deal to him once?
"If I thought my staying would make a difference—"
"It will! Trust me, you're exactly what Boyd McAuley needs right now." Prudy gulped down the rest of her coffee before bouncing to her feet. "Now that that's settled, I have to get back to work. I'm ripping out cabinets today."
"I'd offer to exchange jobs with you, but I doubt Dr. Jarrod would approve."
"Or Boyd."
Sighing, Stacy got to her feet with her usual difficulty, bringing a sympathetic smile her way.
"How much longer do you have? Six weeks?"
"Five."
"Piece of cake with Boyd hovering over you like a mother hen."
Stacy glared at Prudy's waistline, feeling frumpy and awkward, "Uh-huh. And this from a woman who can't weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet."
"The product of good genes and a tendency to worry," Prudy acknowledged as Stacy opened the door to let her out.
"You're a good friend," Stacy told her as they exchanged hugs.
"So are you." Prudy turned to go, only to nearly stumble over a yellow kitten that had suddenly appeared seemingly from nowhere. "Oops, sorry, kitty."
"Well, aren't you darling?" Stacy murmured, stooping awkwardly to extend her hand to the miniature yellow tabby. The tiny creature rubbed against her fingers before curling around to lick her hand with a dainty pink tongue.
"You'll find a bag of dry cat food and a couple of bowls under the sink," Prudy said, stepping over their furry visitor.
Squinting against the sun, Stacy slanted her a look. "I didn't know Boyd had a cat."
"He doesn't. He just has this way of attracting strays. Sometimes I think there's a sign down on the highway that only felines can read. 'This way to the world's biggest softie.'"
Stacy rubbed the thick fur behind the kitten's ears and was rewarded by a sudden rumbling purr. "Are you lost, little one? Or just out for an afternoon adventure?"
"Don't get too attached to it," Prudy warned, leaning over to smooth a hand over the soft yellow pelt. "Boyd never keeps his little freeloaders for more than a few days."
Stacy felt a chill. "Please don't tell me he takes them to the pound!"
"Not a chance! He always finds them a good home." Prudy straightened, her bright hair glinting like flame in the bright sunshine. "See ya later," she said before heading toward a break in the hydrangea hedge.
Smiling, Stacy lifted the kitten and rubbed her face in the soft fur. The kitty batted at her cheek with a paw before letting out a contented meow.
"Let's see, what should we call you?"
"Stacy?" Prudy called from next door. "Don't name the cat!"
"It's too late," Stacy called back. "She already told me her name. It's Sunshine."
* * *
Eleven
« ^ »
Stacy was stretched out in a sun lounger she'd borrowed from Prudy, enjoying the shade provided by a gnarled oak in the backyard, when she heard Boyd's truck pull into the carport.
"It's okay, Sunny," she murmured to the kitten snuggled down for a nap on her bare thighs. "He frowns a lot, but he really has an incredibly soft heart in that big chest."
Sunshine twitched her furry ears and opened one eye, as though registering her doubts. Stacy laughed softly as she smoothed her hand over the kitten's dainty little back.
"We're over here," she called as Boyd headed up the walk toward the back door, looking preoccupied and tired. The man could make a fortune modeling jeans, she thought. Or anything else, she amended, eyeing the impressive girth of his tanned biceps beneath the rolled sleeves of his plain cotton shirt. Her unpredictable libido started revving at high speed, making her suddenly short of breath.
"We?" he asked, veering off the walk onto the grass toward the shadowed spot. His hair was nicely mussed, hinting at the towheaded rascal he must have been once, but she suspected it had been a long time since those topaz dark eyes had been lit with mischief. Too long.
"Boyd, meet Sunshine," she said, lifting one of the kitty's tiny paws when Boyd stopped a few feet away. "Sunny for short."
"Oh Lord, not another one," he muttered, shaking his head. The dark mood of this morning seemed to have passed, and she let out a relieved breath.
"Prudy said you have a knack of attracting strays."
Boyd hesitated, then crouched down next to the chair and extended a finger toward the cat. "Cute little beggar," he muttered, trying not to smile at the sudden glint of curiosity in the kitten's bright eyes.
"I fed her some of the cat food you keep under the sink," Stacy told him with a smile he'd give a small fortune to taste.
She was wearing drawstring shorts patterned with wild geometric shapes that he was pretty sure he'd seen Prudy wearing a time or two, and one of the shirts he'd packed for her. Both were anything but provocative, but he felt his blood pressure spiking nevertheless. He withdrew his hand, conscious that the kitten was stretched across perfect thighs that looked touchably silky.
"How are you feeling?" He figured he'd be safe concentrating his attention on her face. He was wrong. Try as he might, he couldn't help noticing the ripe curve of the lips he'd tasted only a few hours ago. Couldn't keep from remembering the satiny feel of those lips against his. Couldn't help remembering his own clumsy rejection of all that she'd been offering.
"Actually, I'm feeling as pampered and lazy as Sunny here," she murmured with a blissful sigh. "Prudy brought brownies and Linda next door dropped off a casserole that smells like heaven itself. Apparently she and Prudy have formed a conspiracy of kindness."
Boyd glanced toward the Ladds' bungalow. A tidy row of diapers hung from the clothesline Marshall had put up at Linda's insistence when the twins were born the day after Christmas. A militant environmentalist, Linda recycled everything.
"I like your friends," Stacy said softly, claiming his attention again. "And they're very protective of you. Prudy's already warned me not to fall in love with you, and Linda pretty much said the same thing, only in different words."
She saw the frown start in his eyes a split second before he drew his bold brows together. "Seems to me they're being more protective of you than me."
"But there's no need of that, is there?" she said with a comfortable smile. "You're not interested in a relationship with me, and I was certainly too well brought up to push myself on a man who doesn't want me."
"Damn it, Stacy, it's not—"
&nb
sp; "Boyd, it's okay." She laid a hand on his arm where it rested on one knee. Beneath her touch, his muscles turned to cabled steel. "I understand how you feel and why. You don't want to fall in love with me, and you don't want me to fall in love with you. Fair enough. I'll do my best not to, although I warn you it's going to be difficult, given the fact that I already like you a lot, not to mention being wildly attracted to your gorgeous body." She sighed and rolled her eyes before assuming a prim tone. "Be that as it may, however, since you insist on my staying in your house, I suggest we keep our interactions strictly platonic."
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