Just for Appearances

by Jenna Rutland

  “Rachel, wait!”

  She ignored the voice closing in on her. Another minute, and she’d be to her car. Running in her strappy sandals slowed her down so she stopped, struggling to slip them off. Within seconds, John caught up to her.

  “Why’d you run out of there like that?”

  She fought the tiny buckles on her shoe straps. “Damn whoever invented heels. Hope they rot in hell. Probably a man,” she mumbled as she gathered the offending shoes and continued on her journey toward her car.

  “Honey, wait. What the hell’s going on?” He grabbed her arm and whirled her around to face him.

  “I can’t believe I kissed you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Did you hear me complain? I wanted to do the same thing; you just beat me to it.”

  “You were right to stop me. I have no business kissing you.”

  “I stopped because I didn’t want to take it to the next level in there.” He moved closer. “I didn’t want an audience.”

  She closed her eyes to gain some much-needed strength. “I’m not even sure I recall the different levels of kissing,” she whispered.

  Turning away from him, she walked the few last feet to her car and unlocked the door. Before she could open it, he came up behind her, turning her once again toward him. “Maybe it’s time you remembered.” He placed both hands in her hair and tilted her chin to greet his lips. The kiss, hot and passionate, swept her into a familiar world. A world she had visited once in her life. His lips met hers while one hand held the back of her head and the other slid down to her waist. He pulled her into him, the effect she had on him obvious.

  The slam of car doors made her aware of where they were and what they were doing. Placing both hands on John’s chest, she pushed him away, trying to ignore the desire she saw in his eyes.

  “Please don’t do that again,” she whispered.

  His breath became even again. “Well, I figured if I kissed you, it would cancel out the kiss you gave me. Now we’re even,” he said, trying to make light of the situation.

  Nice guy, wanting her to feel better. She tilted her head at him and narrowed her eyes anyway.

  “Okay, Rach, if you don’t want me to kiss you again, I won’t. I promise.”

  She pulled away. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered. If she didn’t leave soon, she might not be going home alone.

  “Let me follow you.”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s so late, honey. I hate that you live out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” She wanted to tell him that he could follow her anywhere. Follow her home and right into her bed. Had she lost her mind? Thoughts flashed into her head that hadn’t entered her mind in years.

  She got in her car without another word and left.

  …

  The next day, John took Rachel and the boys on a trip to the zoo. The previous night wasn’t mentioned by either one of them. The boys dragged the adults from one exhibit to another until Rachel begged for a break. John spotted a playground where the kids could romp around, and the adults could relax. He led the way, and in minutes, the boys were climbing on spiders made from pipes, a rope web, and multiple other ingenious jungle gym equipment. A bench became available close to where the boys played, and Rachel plopped down for a much-needed breather. John instructed the boys to stay within the perimeter of the playground and in his line of vision, then joined Rachel on the bench.

  She studied John’s face while he watched her sons. With each of their maneuvers, John’s smile grew broader until pleasure reflected in his eyes. Oh, those eyes.

  “I’ve been wondering about something,” she said.

  “What would that be?”

  “You’re so good with kids, and not just mine.” She knew he’d been married and divorced. But Carol had never mentioned grandchildren. “They all adore you, and you seem to enjoy them. Why don’t you have any of your own?”

  He stiffened for a moment, and his happy expression turned somber before he shot her an agonized expression. A look of withdrawal came over his face before he hunched over to rest his arms on his thighs.

  She placed her hand on his forearm. “John, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.” Feeling responsible, her heart ached at the abrupt change in his mood.

  They sat without speaking for a few moments until she couldn’t stand it another second. Her hand still clutched his arm, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “John?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, he straightened his position and leaned back against the bench. His gaze settled on the boys as they climbed in and out of a child-size caboose.

  John didn’t look at her as he spoke. “My wife—”

  Her stomach clenched at the strain in his voice. Or maybe it was because of the mention of his wife. She had to swallow before she could draw the words out. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “She became pregnant soon after we married,” he blurted out, as if he couldn’t hold the words in any longer. “Right from the start, things weren’t working well for us. She didn’t even tell me about the baby. I found the positive pregnancy test in the bathroom garbage one morning.”

  Unsure where this story was headed, she felt a black cloud invade her heart.

  “I found out later that our marriage was a sham. She didn’t love me. She married me to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.”

  “That’s quite a step to take to make someone jealous.”

  “Yeah, I guess she didn’t think about what it meant to go that far. Plus, she figured she’d get some money out of me. Anyway, when I got home from work one day, she had gone to a clinic and—well, she wasn’t pregnant anymore. She admitted that she’d never loved me, only used me.” His voice had dropped so low that Rachel wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. But the look of pain in his eyes confirmed his words.

  “Oh, John,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine…” Couldn’t imagine anyone hurting him so deeply. Couldn’t imagine anyone not loving him enough to have his child.

  He nodded without saying anything. With a squeeze of her hand that rested on his arm, she sensed that his emotions were once again under control. Was he relieved that he’d told her the story?

  “Someday, John. Someday you’ll find a woman who’ll want to give you a dozen babies.”

  “I probably have to stop moving around so much first.”

  “It’ll happen. There are plenty of women out there who want kids. Lots of kids. Remember how I wanted four or five? A houseful…”

  He did look at her then. And though he didn’t reply, his face spoke for him. His somber expression changed from grim to curious to an intense wistful stare. She felt herself flush, and her heart racing, and she got lost in his magnificent eyes. Had he misconstrued her words? Did he think she referred to herself? That she could be the one to give him babies?

  The heat of his gaze made it difficult to speak. She gave him a shaky half smile. “I didn’t mean…” She shrugged. “I only meant…”

  His voice softened. “I know what you meant, Einstein.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet as he rose. “Let’s go get the kids.”

  …

  Why was it so hard for her to ask for help? The question circled its way around Rachel’s mind like the paddles of the ceiling fan that moved overhead. If she would have asked for help there would be no pain shooting across her back, her new tree would be sunk in the ground, and she would be enjoying her Saturday night with John. Instead, she lay flat on her back in bed, unable to escape Jack’s lecture on foolishness. And would spend the evening alone.

  “You do this every year. I don’t know why you can’t ask for help. The nursery would have planted that tree, you know.”

  “I don’t want help,” she mumbled.

  “Want it or not, sometimes you have to take it.”

  “Jack, why don�
�t you go ahead with your plans? I don’t want to disappoint the boys. You promised them weeks ago you’d take them to the fair.”

  “I guess it would be helpful to have them out of your hair, but you have to promise me you’ll lie here tonight and relax.”

  She gave him a reassuring glance. “This medication has me so drowsy there’s nothing I could do anyway.”

  “Anything you need before we leave?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

  “We’ll stop by in the morning and see how you’re doing.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

  Alone, she struggled to remove her shorts, then tossed them on the floor. If she had to lie here all night, she might as well be cool and comfortable. As the hypnotizing movement of the ceiling fan coaxed her into sleep, her last cloudy thought was why Jack wouldn’t be back until morning.

  Sometime later, pain slashed across her back, causing her to waken and cry out. As the spasm subsided, she turned her head toward the doorway, startled to see John’s big body leaning against the doorframe, one hand placed on his hip.

  Great. She’d taken too much medication and was now hallucinating. As she continued to stare, her mirage spoke.

  “One of your friends hinted that you could use someone checking in on you.”

  “That would be nurse Dani or brother Jack.” She let out a strained chuckle. “I’m fine. I have my happy pills, and I’ve been drifting in and out of a pleasantly confused state. It’s somewhat scary to realize it’s not a bad frame of mind.”

  John laughed as he entered the room. He eased himself down onto the side of her mattress, the weight of his body tipping her toward him. She followed his line of vision as his gaze traveled over her. Too late, she recalled her state of dress, or undress. She tugged at her T-shirt in an attempt to cover as much of herself as she could. The unused bedding had made its way to the floor. He reached for the sheet and pulled it over her legs.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m okay, John, I don’t need anything.”

  He studied the scribbled notation on the tablet that sat next to her medication bottle. “Looks like you’re a little overdue for these.”

  “Too lazy to go for water. Anyway, they make me loopy. I think I’ll skip them for now.”

  After retrieving a glass of water from her bathroom, he took two of the pale rose tablets from the bottle. “Can you sit up?” he asked.

  She shot him an irritated fine-I’ll-take-them look. “Give them to me. I can swallow them dry.”

  “No, I think you should take these with water, honey. Here, I’ll help you lift your head.”

  “Playing doctor now, are we?”

  Ignoring her wisecrack, he slipped a hand under her head. With his other hand he placed a pill between her lips, brought the glass of water to her mouth and repeated the process with the second pill.

  As he lowered her head to the pillow, the movement caused a jolt of pain to course along her spine. Her body jerked with the discomfort, and she cried out.

  “Jesus, Rachel, why didn’t you ask me for help? Couldn’t you have waited until I got here to plant the damn tree?”

  “I don’t need any help,” she said meekly.

  “Don’t need any help? Look at you. I know you like to do things your own way, and I admire you for that, but not when it comes to hurting yourself. What if the boys hadn’t been home to call for help? My God, you could’ve lain out in the yard all night.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, John. It’s happened before.”

  He swore under his breath. “Yeah? It’s happened before, and you still haven’t learned your lesson, huh?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Stubborn woman.” He shook his head.

  The doctor she’d seen at the clinic that morning had suggested lying on her side with a pillow tucked between her legs to help with any back spasms. Her attempt at repositioning herself was met with another jolt of pain.

  John hadn’t moved from his position on the side of her bed. He didn’t say a word.

  She huffed out a breath. “Okay. Fine. Now I need help, and I’m asking. I want to roll onto my side.”

  “A lesser man would throw any number of sarcastic comments at you.”

  “But you’re a better man than that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Nine

  John worked his hands underneath her shoulder blade and hip. “I’m going to turn you. Don’t try to help; let me make the move.”

  She closed her eyes. His own eyes were drawn to the rapid rising and falling of her chest. He had to concentrate on touching her without emotion. The exact opposite of how he wanted to touch her.

  He counted to three before he gently turned her body so her back was facing him. She tucked a pillow between her knees and sighed.

  “You okay?” he asked, leaning down to murmur in her ear.

  She nodded, struggling to readjust her shirt.

  With her movement, the sheet had gotten pushed aside. His gut clenched when he noticed the panties she wore. Black lace. And not much of it. Trying to be a gentleman, he pulled the sheet over her legs.

  “You comfortable, babe?” In a slow, soothing movement, he rubbed his hand down her back.

  “Yeah, just don’t stop doing that.” She released a sigh that bordered on a moan. “I’ve got some lotion over there.”

  He smiled to himself. Rachel on pain pills didn’t mind calling the shots.

  He reached for the bottle of almond oil on her nightstand, surprised when his hands shook. Could he do this? Could he touch her without it turning intimate? He had no choice. She trusted him.

  The rich almond scent filled the air. “I’m going to smell like a cookie when you’re done,” she murmured.

  Probably taste like one, too, but he didn’t dare voice that opinion. With a small amount of oil on his hand, he moved under her shirt and began a gentle stroke at her lower back. Her audible groan mirrored his own internal one. Probably for different reasons. As he repeated the motion several times, he could feel her relaxing. He smoothed his hands up to her shoulder blades and then back down.

  Her skin was incredible. So soft he wanted to touch her forever. Touch her everywhere.

  She released another moan as he continued the process.

  “Too much pressure?”

  “No. It feels great. I think I’ve found my cure-all to lack of sex.”

  He laughed.

  “Oh God, please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

  He leaned his head down and whispered in her ear. “You think my back massage is better than sex, sweetheart, I’d say you haven’t been with the right partner lately.”

  “I haven’t been. Well, except for when we…never mind.”

  His heart did a ridiculous little flip. Was she referring to their one night together as the only good sex she’d had? Or was his ego reading something into her statement? Either way, it didn’t matter. He had to stay away from her, because she deserved the kind of love that he couldn’t provide.

  …

  The following Friday night, John treated the boys to the batting cage at the local golf course to practice hitting before their next game. Rachel came along and promised them all a trip to Rosie’s Pizza afterward. He liked the idea of her joining them. The truth was, he enjoyed spending as much time with Rachel as he could, with and without her children.

  Ten batting cages, separated by chain link dividers, lined the far end of the driving range. Equipped with individual pitching machines, they ranged from slow-pitch softball to fast-pitch baseball. John chose a cage for each boy, supplying them with a mass of quarters before turning to Rachel.

  “How about it? Want to give it a try?”

  “Sure.” She grinned.

  He motioned to the last space in the row. Slow-pitch softball. He followed her into the cage and closed the gate, placing the quarters on top of the rusting money box.

  “Okay. Before we start, let me
go over a few things,” he said, now in teacher mode.

  “Whatever you say, Coach.” She slipped the worn batting helmet on her head, then accepted the silver aluminum bat he held out to her.

  “A proper grip’s important. Place the bat in your fingers and not the palms.” Knowing she hadn’t played in high school, he stood in front of her and attempted to place her hands in the correct position. “Maybe it’d be easier to show you this way.” He came around to stand behind her. He put his arms around her and placed his hands on the bat next to hers. His breath caught at their closeness. Looking at their hands together on the long bat gave him an image he’d be wise to forget.

  “There you go,” he continued. “You want to hold it firmly but not too tight. You don’t want your hand speed slowed.”

  He fought for breath.

  “Next we have to work on your stance. Stand about eight to ten inches from the plate,” he said, removing his hands from the bat and placing them on her shoulders. “Back up just a bit, and slightly bend your knees.”

  The image of Rachel bending her knees for him made him groan. His cover-up cough came out like a croak, so he tried to cover that up as well. The best he could do was to growl out, “That’s far enough,” when her body pressed up nicely against his.

  He proceeded to adjust her elbows, her head, and her feet until he couldn’t continue. Was it damn hot out, or was he coming down with something? Something like a lethal case of lust. Couldn’t he even teach her how to swing a bat without getting turned on? The final part of the lesson involving the actual swing and turning of the hips would have to come later. If he didn’t die first. John went to check on the boys and gave Rachel a few minutes to hit some balls. What he desperately needed was some time to cool off. He wasn’t sure what the hell had happened back at that cage, but it was far from batting practice, confirmed by the pounding of his heart and the tightness of his jeans.