“So my warm-ups are too tame for you, strong man? Fine, lie back and I’ll check your full range of motion.”
“Sounds like fun to me.”
“Smart ass,” she said.
“It’s better than being a dumb ass,” he responded automatically and they both froze. He had been with her only minutes and already they had fallen into an old speech pattern. Memories of seeing her laugh and roll her eyes at him flashed through his mind like a movie trailer. They hadn’t dated for long, but they had spent so much time together it was as if they shared a lifetime.
A lifetime ago, he reminded himself.
He moved into position on the mat without saying anything. She situated herself in front and above him. It would be the perfect set-up for more flirting if he weren’t aware of the emotional distance which separated them.
She started with the non-injured leg. “Bend your knee and push your foot against me as hard as you can.” He did as she asked, then switched legs.
“Oh, come on, Miles. You can do better than that,” she said as she leaned against him. “I have arthritic grandmothers who try harder.”
He gave an angry shove and she toppled back. Before he could ask if she was all right, she sat up with a smirk. “Better, she said. “Let’s try some single leg squats, first on your uninjured leg.”
He mentally groaned. Those were the worst, and she probably knew it, but he could resist showing off. He pushed himself hard and she let him. He was going to pay for these in the morning. “You have a sadistic streak I didn’t know about,” he said, when she finally told him to stop.
“A lot has changed since you left.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
She directed him to a treadmill and moved him from walking to running for nearly twenty minutes. “That’s enough,” she said, slowing the machine down gradually. “From what I’ve seen and been able to read, I don’t think you need to see me for therapy more than once a week.”
And if I want to see you more? The thought came unbidden. He didn’t know he would find her here, but now that he had, there were unanswered questions and emotions he wanted to explore.
“Not bad for the end of the day, Anderson.”
“Thanks, Wagner.” He stopped, frowned, and took a step toward her. “No, not Wagner. When Leslie phoned to tell you I was here, she called you Ms. Boxford.” His mind flipped through the information rejecting the obvious answer even as he said, “You married Rob Boxford?”
It wasn’t until she blinked and moved back he realized how loudly he spoke. “I did. Divorced him too, as of three weeks ago.”
“Why did you marry him?”
“You were gone.”
“Are you saying it’s my fault?”
“No, Miles, not at all. It’s my fault. My fault that when you weren’t around, I couldn’t see, couldn’t believe in my own worth.”
“I still don’t understand how you could marry that asshole.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“You were supposed to get out of this tiny place. That was our plan.”
“How can you talk about our plan? You were gone. I wasn’t strong when you weren’t around. I was scared, and Rob helped. You left and never wrote. I didn’t think you’d ever come back to me, and you didn’t.” She bit her lip, clearly not having intended to say all she did.
He wasn’t certain which part of her outburst surprised him most. He never thought he could make another person feel strong. “Is that what you think?”
“That’s what I know,” she said. Her voice now matched his in loudness and accusation. “I waited to hear from you, to find out where you were, but after two months there was no letter, no way to tell you how sorry I was for what happened that last day. I didn’t know how to reach you. And then…” she trailed off.
“And then you married Rob.”
“Not quite that fast.”
“But it was the end result,” he said, unable to mask his anger and hurt. It was easier then acknowledging his part in their separation.
“I thought you had decided we were through, that there could be nothing between us.”
“How could you ever believe that? Yes, I was mad when I left, but I wrote. I wrote regularly for months, but got no response.”
“I didn’t hear from you. I thought you’d turned your back on me.”
“How could I turn my back on this?” he said and in two steps he was directly in front of her, reaching for her face and bringing it to his for a kiss.
He meant it to be angry and punishing, wanted to show her what she had given up, but in a heartbeat, time disappeared and memories of a thousand previous kisses hit him in the gut. No war effort, no explosion, no fire ever made him feel as weak or as troubled as he did when he felt her mouth against his. She had gasped at the contact, and he used it to deepen the embrace, letting his tongue slip into her mouth. Her taste was familiar and new, her response tentative at first, then heating as fast as his. She put her hands on his shoulders, but made no move to either pull him closer or push him away.
When he finally broke the kiss, they stared at each other breathlessly, saying nothing. He searched her eyes for an answer, although he wasn’t certain of the question. She, in turn, looked at him unblinking, as if to solve her own puzzle.
“I never forgot,” he said. “Don’t ever doubt it.”
Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door, followed by Leslie entering. They had just enough time to move apart from each other. “Sorry to interrupt, Jillian, but you were away from your phone. Mr. Pollard called. His wife slipped in the shower, and he’d like you to come over and check on her to see if she re-sprained anything.”
Jillian didn’t take her eyes off of Miles as she answered, “No problem. Tell him I’ll be there within a half hour.”
“Great. Thanks.” Leslie left as quickly as she arrived, but the moment and tension had passed.
Jillian cleared her throat, clearly still trying to get her bearings. “Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
They were back to niceties, which was probably all he could handle. “At the old house.”
“You’re kidding,” she said.
“Surprising, isn’t it? Zack fixed it up a few years ago to rent it out. I haven’t seen it yet, but I guess it’s completely changed.” Of course, he knew now that more than the buildings in town had changed.
“As I said, you’re doing well, but I know you must have a lot to do for Charlie. Why don’t we schedule your first full appointment in three days?”
“If you think that’s the course to take,” he said casually, meaning so much more.
“I do. I’ll see you in a few days,” she said, and almost ran out of the room, back to her office.
You’ll see me sooner than that, he thought with a wicked grin.
* * * *
At home that night in the beige and barely furnished condo she hated, Jillian sat eating from a pint of mint chocolate-chip ice cream as she reviewed client files for the day. The last one she pulled out was Miles’s. She touched the cool manila folder, thinking of his skin as she put him through the exercises which allowed her to determine his abilities. Old and passionate emotions swirled close to the surface as she thought about him. As they always did when she thought about him, which was more often than she would ever admit to anyone.
She was impressed with his commitment to his physical therapy as well as his ability to flirt while in pain. Alone, she could admit she’d pushed him further than she did most of her first-time patients, simply for the pleasure of wiping the arrogant look off his face. She enjoyed showing him that he shouldn’t underestimate her. Now, if only she could get a few more key people in her life to believe that, it would be wonderful.
She’d noticed the slight limp he’d tried to conceal as they walked to her office, but he also projected an air of confidence that she envied. The weakness in his injured leg was nothing compared to the strength of the rest of him. Touch
ing him had brought back a flood of memories and had made being professional in her evaluation more challenging than she had ever experienced.
Touching her lips, she thought about his kiss. His new facial hair only added to the sensations she experienced. No one had ever kissed her the way he did, and he had never kissed her before with the intensity he showed her today. She wondered if he’d noticed her response, or if he was too caught up in the moment. Was he thinking of her now? She liked knowing that when he inevitably woke up sore tomorrow morning, he would think of her. Imagining him in bed made something stir inside her.
She had been in a bed with him. Once.
He said he was staying at his old house while he was in town. She was surprised to learn he and his brothers paid to maintain the place instead of tearing it down and selling the land. None of them of them had liked it as kids. Miles hated it fiercely. He’d practically kept tally marks on the wall of his room, counting the days until his release. She wondered if he was in his old room as well. She thought back to the many nights of sneaking over there, Miles slipping out of his window, and the two of them riding bicycles to their special place by the lake. She hadn’t gone near either the house or the lake since the summer he left.
She remembered the night she went to him after his high school graduation, and they fell asleep listening to the lapping of the water, staying out until the sun woke them. Innocence and passion had filled that night as kisses turned to more touching than they had done before, but reason kept them from going too far. She recalled the dangerous thrill of lying to her father about where she had been, and her incredible relief at getting away with it. She had never spoken of that precious memory, or of the one a year later. It was a perfect time, filled with love. She never had words for it or anyone she could share it with. It was so long ago now that it was almost as if it happened to someone else.
Still, as she sat on her couch, she thought of how his muscles felt beneath her hands during her assessment and how they changed since the last time she had seen him naked. That night, too, had been perfect, but the next day she hadn’t been able to hide things from her father and everything went to hell in the days and weeks ahead.
Before he left, Miles was the most important person in her life. He was love, kindness and understanding for her. He’d believed in her dreams and all she wanted to accomplish. When she was with him, she was capable and strong. It was just as well he’d left and didn’t see how little of their plans had come to pass.
“You need someone to take care of you.” She could hear her father in her head as clearly as if he sat there with her, holding his bourbon and telling her how things had to be. “I won’t be here forever. Rob is a good man. He can provide for you. I’ll make sure of it.”
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the voice, but Rob’s replaced it. “You’re a skinny little bookworm. No one would look at you if your daddy weren’t so rich. You’re lucky I’m here or you’d be on your own.”
Neither of them knew being on her own was exactly what she craved and had for years. She had wondered continuously how her life might have been different if she’d had the courage to leave Glenway. It scared her to realize she might have gone back to Rob if it wasn’t for the surprise she received in September on her thirtieth birthday in September, which gave her what she needed to have a fully independent future.
Unknown to her father, Jillian’s mother set up a substantial trust in her daughter’s name to be given to her when she turned thirty – with the stipulation that no one other than Jillian had access to or control of the money. It was the biggest and most welcome surprise of her life. Her father’s and Rob’s fury only added to the pleasure. Somehow, her mother had known that having money of her own could give her daughter the freedom she wanted. Jillian had wondered many times since she received the money if her mother was trying to give her something she herself had never had and craved.
Tears filled her eyes as she thought of her beautiful mom. Elizabeth died when Jillian was fourteen, and she never stopped grieving the loss. She almost quit dancing after her death, but knew her mother would hate to see her give up her dreams.
A car accident four years later would see to that instead.
Wanting to touch her new dream and make it more tangible, she went to her desk and pulled out the blue prints to look at her plans for the combination dance and therapy center. It calmed her to see the sketches and figures of her future. She traced the design with her fingers. There was a studio for dance classes, rooms and equipment for client visits, a beautiful waiting area, changing rooms. There was even a small performance space for recitals and, on the architect’s recommendation, room for expansion. She was planning to offer Nia™ Movement and other forms of dance exercise classes during the tourist season to bring in extra revenue. The bank had loved the proposal almost as much as she did. Unfortunately, the opening would have to wait.
Jillian put the plans down and rolled her stiff shoulders. Today had been filled with too many emotions. She needed her bed and sleep.
* * * *
Miles almost thought he had the wrong address when he pulled up the drive of the colonial because other than the frame, the house looked nothing like it did the day he moved out. Neither he nor Jason wanted anything to do with the place after they left. In fact, it was one building Miles would have happily set fire to. Zack, however, being the youngest, didn’t have as many bad memories since he moved in with Charlie and Paula for the last three years of high school. He had convinced his brothers that he could renovate it and turn it into a profitable rental property for leaf peepers and skiers. Since Jason agreed, Miles did too, but he had barely looked at the plans and e-mails Zack had sent him in the year it took to fix the house. After it was done, he’d sent the checks he received after to a local animal shelter and the school which trained Harlow. Sitting in his truck, Miles thought that even if he had memorized the information Zack passed along, he still would have been surprised.
From the outside it was beautiful and welcoming, the opposite of every image he’d held in his head. It had been re-sided and painted a cream color with dark green shutters. Nothing was shabby, falling down, or sagging. The porch had been completely rebuilt with the swing he had always imagined. His heart squeezed at the sight of it, knowing Zack had put it there for him even without knowing if Miles would ever come to see it. His little brother clearly had a quiet sentimental streak he didn’t let anyone see.
Miles had been dreading coming to the house, and almost took Paula up on her offer to stay with her and Charlie, but he needed to do this, to prove to himself he could. On the drive over, he thought if he could handle this part of his past, he could handle the rest, including Jillian. Now he found himself approaching the front door with a smile. He had to send a huge thank you to Zack. The kid had grown into a very resourceful man. He wondered for a moment if he would find other things about being in his hometown easier to manage then he expected. Of course, if there were any more shocks, like finding out Jillian had married that shallow sap Rob, he didn’t think he would be staying for long after he solved the arsonist mystery for Charlie.
He grabbed his bags, motioned for Harlow to follow and opened the door with the key Zack sent him. The interior was as different as the exterior. Dropping his bags on the floor, he had a sudden urge to go back and wipe his feet on the mat. Miles rubbed his eyes, both from exhaustion, half wondering if the sight before him would disappear and the house would be as he remembered, dark and musty with an encroaching sense of desperation.
Hardwood floors replaced dark, stained rugs. The secondhand furniture was gone and Harlow quickly found a place in the center of a chocolate leather couch opposite a flat-screen television. He knew now where she would be most of the time. The floor plan was open, and he could tell it would allow in a lot of light during the day. To the left, a kitchen, which almost no one used when he was a kid, was simple and efficient with brushed silver appliances and granite countertops. His stomac
h chose that moment to growl, and he was glad he’d let Paula pack a bag of food for him when he picked up Harlow. A few minutes later, he made himself at home in front of the television with a plate of cold chicken and a beer, then called it an early night.
After walking slowly and, he had to admit, a little stiffly, upstairs he discovered the bedrooms were as dramatically different as the rest of the place. He smiled when he saw the bunk beds in Zack’s old room. The kid had always wanted those. The swing for him, the beds for Zack. It made him wonder which one of Jason’s old desires Zack incorporated into the house. He made a mental note to look for a pool table later.
Miles couldn’t bring himself to sleep in his old room, even with all the changes, so he chose the master bedroom. For most of his last few years here, his mother slept downstairs since she couldn’t navigate the stairs drunk. It made the room seem less like hers, and therefore easier to stay in. It had been redone in a gender-neutral décor with a four-poster wrought iron king-sized bed, fabrics in dark gray and sky blue. Elegant and comfortable: two words he never thought he’d associate with this house.
Harlow claimed one side of the bed while he was in the bathroom. He joined her with the latest paperback he had picked up and read until he thought he could fall asleep.
But hours later, Miles lay staring at the ceiling, unable to quiet his mind. Although he was exhausted both mentally and physically, it didn’t seem as though he was going to get any rest, but not for the usual reasons of pains or nightmares. Finally frustrated by the tossing and turning, he went downstairs, grabbed a throw from the back of the couch, and walked out onto the porch. He took a deep breath of the cool night air and sat in the swing, sending his sixth or seventh thought of gratitude to his brother. He was going to have to send that boy something nice for all he had done up here.
He let himself think about the memories he was fighting the most, the ones about Jillian. If she hadn’t been here, if he hadn’t seen her, maybe it wouldn’t hurt the way it did. He had thought about her often over the years, but never asked either Paula or Charlie to tell him how she was doing. In the beginning, they’d volunteered the information, but he’d interrupted them and changed the subject. Eventually they’d stopped trying.
Passionate Heat Page 3
