by Jo Leigh
“Okay, then,” Jack said. “Let’s try Craig Faraday.”
She went back to the start page and typed that name in. This time, there was a lot more information, most of it about the man they were researching. Newspaper articles, press releases, charities he was involved with. Faraday was well-known and had fingers in many pies. It would take a long time to go over all the data.
“You have a printer?”
She shook her head, but then she remembered. “Hold on.” She hurried to her old bedroom, stopping briefly to peek in on Megan, who was sound asleep on the guest-room bed. She went to her closet and slid the door open. There, on the top shelf with hat boxes, an old pair of in-line skates and a broken kite, was her old printer. She’d brought it here about three years ago, but shortly after, she’d gotten a laser printer and had abandoned this ink-jet dinosaur. It might be slow and old, but it probably still worked.
She reached up and got it, blowing off a layer of dust as she went back to the living room. “Cross your fingers,” she said. “I’m not sure it’s going to work.”
“If it doesn’t, we’ll go get one tomorrow.”
“Hand me that dish towel, would you?” She put the printer on the table, then lifted the cable connector and plug out. She cleaned the machine as best she could and set it up for use.
When that was finished, she sat down and clicked on her home page, then she went to a link at the bottom that listed her price schedule. It was only one page and it would show them if the printer worked. She hit the right button and waited. It took a few minutes for things to warm up, but in the end, she had a nice clear black-and-white-printed page.
“How do you like that?” Jack said.
“I like it just fine. Now we hope I have enough paper and enough ink to print out all this stuff.”
“We don’t have to do it all tonight,” he said. “Maybe a few things to read, and then we can make a trip to an office-supply store tomorrow. Hell, maybe we should do it all tomorrow. It’s been a rough day.”
She stared at her screen, at the work represented. “I agree. Tomorrow is soon enough. What I need is a glass of wine, a comfy place on the couch and some quiet.”
“I can leave if you want,” he said, but she could see he was teasing her.
“I think there’s a beer with your name on it in the fridge,” she said, turning off the computer and unplugging everything.
“Ah, yes. A beer. The nectar of the gods.”
“Which gods would those be?” She moved the equipment to a bench next to the dining-room wall.
“There’s a whole lineup,” he said, leaning back and stretching out his leg. He winced as he reached full extension. “The god of football, the god of basketball…”
“And I suppose beer nuts are the food of the gods?”
He nodded. “Beer nuts and pork rinds. They’re very democratic, these gods.”
“I hope they’re in league with the god of angioplasty or it could get pretty ugly.”
He laughed, and it was a great sound. Rich, easy. But then he moved his leg again and the laughter stopped.
“You know,” she said. “I haven’t seen you do any of your exercises.”
He looked up sharply. “What?”
“You said you do enough of the exercises the physical therapist gave you. But I’ve yet to see you do any. You’re supposed to do them every day.”
“We’ve been a little busy. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“We’re not busy now.”
“Oh, no,” he said. He stood up and started hobbling toward the big chair. “I’m not in the mood for a torture session tonight.”
“Is it really that bad?” She followed him into the living room. “Honestly?”
He turned to face her, and she could see the answer on his face without his saying a word. It was bad. Really bad.
“Maybe I could help,” she said. “I know I hurt you last night, but that’s because I wasn’t sure where to move my hands. I’ve studied massage, you know. I used to work part-time at a spa.”
“I don’t need a massage.”
“Of course you do. Everyone needs a massage.”
“Not me,” he said, turning his back on her once more.
She shook her head, wondering how she could get him to relax enough around her to do the exercises. Although she wasn’t a physical therapist, she knew enough to know that he wasn’t ever going to walk without the cane if he didn’t get down to some serious business.
Back in the kitchen she opened the bottle of white zinfandel she’d chilled and poured herself a glass. After a lovely sip, she got out his beer and headed back for round two. It occurred to her that he wasn’t the kind of man who would run from pain, even though she knew stretching and manipulating his torn muscles would hurt like fire. But Jack? It didn’t compute. He was too macho to let a little thing like pain get in his way. He wasn’t doing his exercises for another reason. She had a couple of guesses, but she wasn’t going to jump the gun. A little judicious probing wouldn’t be amiss, however.
“Here,” she said, holding out the beer bottle.
He took it eagerly. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, watching him bring the bottle to his lips. He took a big swig of the brew, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. It was nice that he’d shaved. She liked seeing all of him. But it also allowed her to see the lines bracketing his mouth, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He was tired. More tired than she, and he deserved a rest.
They were going to be here for a few days at least. There would be time to talk about his injury. And his therapy. And who’d hurt him.
For tonight, though, it was going to be television and then bed.
SOMETHING POKED HIM in the cheek. He shifted, trying to get back to his dream, to Hailey rubbing his—another poke, harder this time. He opened his eyes.
There, inches from his face, stood Megan. She was in her pajamas, and for once she didn’t have her doll tucked under her arm. She just stared at him, unmoving except for a blink every few seconds.
“Can I help you?” he asked, wondering what time it was. It felt like dawn. Like he could have slept for another hour or five.
“Hailey says breakfast is almost ready.”
“She does, does she?”
Megan nodded, which sent the curls on her head to bobbing. “She says you need to get up and into the shower.”
“I see.”
“And she says you polished off a lot of beer last night, so it’s no wonder you feel like heck in the morning.”
“Like heck?”
Megan nodded. “It’s not a bad word. I asked.”
“You did, huh?”
“Your breath smells bad.”
He smiled. “I’d better go brush my teeth then, huh?”
She nodded again.
“You go on and help Hailey,” he said. “I’ll be out soon.”
“Okay.”
He watched her walk to his bedroom door, amazed at how little she was. It occurred to him that she was an actual person. He’d never really considered that before. Kids were just a group he lumped together, like puppies or kittens. Then, when they hit about fourteen, he tended to think of them as juvenile delinquents. It wasn’t until they reached drinking age that they became people.
But maybe his vision had been a little narrow. Maybe.
He threw off his covers and pushed himself up, his hip reminding him what a damn fool he was. He should do his exercises, Hailey was right about that. But he didn’t want to. Especially not around her.
After he swallowed his first pill of the day, he headed for the shower. As he walked down the hallway, he heard Hailey laugh, and it made him want to see her, want to know what she was laughing about. Instead, he went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.
Dreaming about her was one thing, but wanting her during the day was another. There was no way anything could happen. Even if she’d let him, he couldn’t do much to satisfy her. The tho
ught of that particular humiliation was more than he could bear. It wasn’t that he couldn’t function—that part worked just fine. It was the rest of his body that was un-cooperative. Ungainly. Ugly.
He wanted to talk to whomever was in charge. The jokester who had put him in such close proximity to a woman whose smile made him ache, when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Ha-ha. Very amusing.
He turned on the shower, then took off his pajamas. The scar on his hip mocked him. A deep, red gash that made him wince just looking at it. She’d be repulsed. He wouldn’t blame her.
THE STACK OF PAGES between them was daunting. Faraday was a public figure, and it seemed to Jack that every move the man made was documented in one form or another. It would take them all day to get through this pile, and it wasn’t likely they’d turn up anything at all about Barry Strangis.
But there wasn’t anything else to do. O’Neill and Dorran were doing the real legwork—the work Jack would have done if he’d been whole. What was left was this. Reading. Thinking too damn much.
He looked at Hailey, sitting on the other end of the couch. Her legs were curled under her, and he could see her pink socks. She had on navy leggings and a navy sweater, but her socks were pink. He couldn’t figure out why. Did she not have any other color? Did she have a thing for pink socks?
“Getting a lot of reading done there, Jack?”
He blinked and saw her smiling at him. “Just thinking.”
“Uh-huh.”
He moved his gaze back to the printout in his lap. It was an article about zoning in Chicago. Dull as dishwater and full of political crap, it didn’t tell him anything about Faraday or Strangis. But he kept on reading just in case.
He’d gotten to page three when the sound of Megan’s cartoons edged in. High squeals, boings, violins. And then the unmistakable beep-beep of the Road Runner. He used to like those cartoons. Wile E. Coyote, Acme Rentals. Jeez.
Of course, Megan herself wasn’t even watching the cartoons. She was on the floor, on her quilt, talking to herself, as he’d seen her do several times. He wondered what was in her head. What all those eyes and bumblebees and houses and cats on the quilt were about. Why some squares were red and why they weren’t symmetrical. He was sure any woman would make sense of the pattern immediately, but to him it just looked like a big jumble. The kid sure liked it, though.
Then his gaze moved again to Hailey. He couldn’t help it. God, she was so different from Crystal. Polar opposites. Crystal was a real firecracker, one with a damn-short fuse. Impatient, unpredictable, moody. And just about as selfish as he was. But she was great in the sack. Now, he’d wager Hailey was great in the sack, too, but not the same at all. She was patient and innocent and not so sure of herself. But he bet she was passionate. A slow candle that would burn for a long long time.
“What’s that smile for?”
Shoot. She’d caught him. “Nothing,” he said as he tried to find his place in the article.
“Nothing my behind. That was a very telling smile, mister.”
He shook his head. “I was just thinking about Crystal.”
“Oh,” she said, but her voice sounded strange. He looked at her. Her smile had disappeared and she’d stiffened her shoulders. There was a hint of a blush on her cheeks. It was confusing. All he’d said was…
Could Hailey be jealous? No. No, that was nuts. Crazy. She didn’t think of him that way. It wasn’t possible. But then he saw her fingers ripping little pieces off the page she was reading.
“I was thinking,” he said, “about how my marriage was a joke.”
Hailey’s head snapped back. “What?”
“Nothing. Just…I don’t know. We were wrong for each other is all. From the start.”
“Why did you marry her, then?”
“We were drunk, in Las Vegas, and we’d just won a bundle at the craps table. It seemed like a great idea.”
Her smile was coming back. A little lift on the corners, not a big grin. But it was something. Maybe she had been jealous. How about that?
“How long were you two together?”
“It felt like twenty years. But it was only two. A little less than that, actually.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. We deserved each other.”
“How did she end up with the cars?”
He laughed, although it wasn’t at all funny. “It was my penance.”
“For what?”
“For believing in love.”
She didn’t say anything. She looked at him differently, though. As if what he’d said confirmed something she’d guessed—probably that he was a jackass. He put the article he was reading on the end table and picked up the next one in the stack. This one was about Faraday’s work with the End Hunger Project. He read the first line, then had to read it again when it didn’t register. What he needed was a beer. He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. Late enough. Hell, if he was at home, he’d have had a beer for breakfast.
He got up, struggling as usual with the cane and his hip, cursing as usual under his breath. As he moved toward the kitchen, he thought about something to eat with his beer. Potato chips, maybe. Maybe not. He opened the fridge door, but he didn’t see the beer. He bent down, looking behind the milk carton and the orange juice. Nothing. Not a single beer. He hadn’t finished off all the beer last night. There were a couple of six-packs in there yesterday. He’d put them there himself. “Hailey?”
“Yes?” She answered too quickly. Too sweetly.
“Do you know where the beer is?”
“Yes,” she said again in that same singsong voice.
“Would you like to tell me?” He shut the door and turned to look at her. He could see into the living room from the kitchen. She was standing, smiling enigmatically.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. Then she walked out of the living room and went down the hall to her bedroom.
She was up to something, but what? Maybe it was religious. He wasn’t sure what she was, but maybe she didn’t believe in liquor. No, she’d had wine last night.
She came back into the living room, holding a big brown plastic rolled-up mat in her arms, which she proceeded to unroll on the carpet. An exercise mat. Somehow he knew it wasn’t for her own use. “What’s that for?”
“Exercising.”
“What does that have to do with my beer?”
She took in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “Pretty much everything.”
Growing angrier by the second, he headed for her, completely flabbergasted at her audacity. “You’d better be joking,” he said, letting her know with his voice, with his eyes, that he wasn’t.
She took a step back, then stopped. Straightened her shoulders. Pursed her lips. “I’m not joking at all.”
“Hailey, this isn’t funny.”
“That’s right. It isn’t. Those muscles and tendons will never work right again until you teach them how. So here’s the deal. You exercise, you can have your beer.”
“Not a chance.”
“Okay, then. Have it your way.”
“Hailey, where’s the beer?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“What the hell are you doing? I’m not some kid you can treat this way.”
“You’re not? You’re certainly acting like one.”
“I’m warning you,” he said, his blood pounding in his temples. “Knock it off.”
“No,” she said. Just like that. No.
“What do you mean, no?”
“No. What part of no don’t you understand?”
He moved closer. Close enough to see that she was shaking. For all her bravado, she was scared out of her wits. But she didn’t back down. Not an inch. “This is unbelievable,” he growled.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head in disbelief. “I know!”
“What?”
“It is unbelievable. I never do things like this. U
sually I’m a pussycat.”
“Don’t change for my benefit.”
“I am, though. Changing for your benefit. I’m not sure why, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I…I’m not going to budge.”
Now he was completely confused. She was scared and brave. Bewildered and adamant. Outrageous and completely certain. “You know, all I have to do is get in the car and go buy some more.”
She nodded. “I know. It would seem that way.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and counted silently to ten. When he opened them again, he still wanted to strangle her. “You’ve hidden the keys?”
She gave him an apologetic smile as she nodded, and her blond hair bobbed, just like Megan’s always did. But that was off the subject. Right now he needed to be angry. And he needed her to back off.
“Look, I understand that you think I should do the damn exercises. And I will. Just not now.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. When I’m good and ready!”
“Then I’ll give you the beer when I’m good and ready!”
“You can’t do that!”
“But I am!”
“I…You…” He shut his mouth, because he couldn’t think of what to say. Nobody talked to him that way and lived to tell it. Nobody. He ought to…
Kiss her. Take her in his arms and kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed. Kiss her till her knees grew weak and her heart pounded.
He took a step and then another. And then he saw it in her eyes. She knew what he was going to do. She gasped, a quiet quick little intake of breath that made her mouth open into a perfect O.
He took the last step and leaned forward.
Chapter Ten
Hailey saw him lean forward, the intensity of his emotions all there in his eyes. Heat, anger and something she couldn’t identify. Something so strong she became instantly frightened and exhilarated. She felt as though her heart stopped beating, her lungs stopped breathing.
