Some Kind of Hero

by Brenda Harlen

  Even Stuart had once suggested that she was too involved with the kids, that she needed to detach herself from their problems. He’d only said it once.

  Still, Joel couldn’t have known the depth of her feelings, and she shouldn’t have taken her annoyance out on him.

  “You’re right,” he said at last. “I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it.” She was more embarrassed than angry now.

  “I guess I’ve spent so much time being bitter and resentful about my childhood that I never considered the others who were less fortunate. My grandmother might have bitched and grumbled every time she put a plate in front of me, but she never let me starve.”

  She felt his hand on her arm, his touch gentle but firm, forcing her attention back to him. “The little girl in the orphanage, is she the reason you have the camp?”

  Riane nodded. “She died just a few weeks after we got there. That was when I resolved to do something to help children like her.”

  “How old were you?” he asked.

  She looked away again. “Twelve.”

  “That’s a hell of a commitment for a twelve-year-old to make.”

  “It’s a hell of a way for a three-year-old child to die,” she replied sadly. Then she shook her head, shook off the melancholy mood that had stolen over the moment.

  “We were talking about your childhood,” Riane reminded him.

  “I think you got the gist of it.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  He shook his head. “I had a sister. She was a few years older than me, took off on her own when she was fifteen and died on the street of a drug overdose less than a year later.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. As an only child, she couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow up with someone, to lose that someone, to be left alone to remember. For so many years she’d wished for a sister—would willingly have settled for a brother—but her parents hadn’t been able to have any more children. Riane knew it had to be easier to have never had a sibling than to have shared such a connection and have it ripped away.

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  “You were close,” she guessed.

  “At one time.” Then, in a not-so-subtle effort to change the topic, “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  Riane shook her head. She’d agreed to play tour guide for him to prove that she was her own person—and to prove to herself that she was immune to whatever chemistry she thought existed between them. Her reaction to his unexpected appearance at the camp today proved otherwise. She wasn’t immune at all.

  She’d never believed in chemistry or destiny or any other such nonsense. But the more time she spent with Joel, the more she found herself questioning her beliefs. Rational or not—and she was pretty sure it was not—she was attracted to Joel Logan. Which was why she was determined to keep her distance from him as much as possible. She may have already committed herself to showing him around the following day, but that was going to be the extent of her involvement.

  “Do you have other plans for dinner?” Joel’s question interrupted her meandering thoughts.

  “Yes.”

  “With the fiancé?” Joel prompted.

  “No.”

  Joel didn’t take the hint. “What are you doing?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Riane said, “but I told Sophie I’d be home to eat.”

  “What’s she making?”

  “Pot roast.”

  “Sounds better than anything room service has to offer,” Joel said hopefully.

  “I’m not inviting you to my house for dinner.” Although there was a part of her that wanted to do just that. She was intrigued by this man who’d appeared in her life seemingly from nowhere. She wanted to spend time with him, to get to know him. All she really knew was that he was a former cop who lived in Fairweather, Pennsylvania. These sparse details didn’t begin to satisfy her curiosity.

  Despite her curiosity, though, she was afraid. Not of Joel, but of her own responses to him. And it was this fear that held her back.

  “Please.”

  She sighed again. Although she knew it could be dangerous to spend more time with him, they wouldn’t be alone together. Sophie would be there.

  So she relented, not entirely unwillingly, to his request. “Dinner will be on the table at seven o’clock.”

  Chapter 4

  A t precisely seven o’clock, Riane found herself seated across from Joel at the gleaming mahogany table in the Quinlan dining room. On her way home from the camp, she’d called Sophie to tell her Joel would be coming for dinner, and Sophie had set the table with the best china, sparkling crystal and gleaming silver. As if that wasn’t enough, she’d added long, slender candles in antique holders and opened a bottle of Riane’s favorite merlot.

  It was obvious, at least to Riane, that Sophie was setting the scene for romance. But Riane wasn’t looking for romance—not with anyone, and especially not with Joel Logan.

  Still, that wasn’t the worst of the housekeeper’s betrayal. Worse, far worse, in Riane’s mind, was that Sophie had set the table for two. Sophie usually took her meals with the family, but tonight she’d begged off, leaving Riane to dine alone with Joel—the exact scenario Riane had been confident she could avoid by inviting him to the house.

  “That was the best pot roast I’ve ever had,” Joel told Sophie when she came to take their empty plates away.

  Sophie beamed at him as though he was a favorite child. “Are you sure I can’t offer you another helping?”

  “I’m sure,” Joel said. “I’ve already had seconds.”

  “Then I’ll leave the two of you to finish up your wine before I bring out dessert,” Sophie said, slipping out of the room as quickly and quietly as she’d slipped in.

  “I’m glad you invited me for dinner,” Joel said to Riane.

  “You invited yourself,” she reminded him.

  “And you very graciously didn’t withdraw the invitation.”

  Riane felt a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. They both knew there had been nothing gracious about her response.

  “Don’t do that,” Joel warned.

  The blossoming smile faded. “Don’t do what?”

  “Smile. If you do, you might have to admit that you don’t detest my company as much as you want to, sweetheart.”

  “If I really disliked your company, I wouldn’t be in it.”

  “But you’re not entirely comfortable with me,” he noted.

  “Why is that?”

  She sighed and pushed away from the table. He stood, too, and followed her to the enormous arched window that overlooked the backyard.

  “Because I don’t know anything about you. Every time I ask a question about what you do or why you’re in town, you evade or mislead or redirect the conversation. For all I know, you could be a tabloid reporter or a con man or—”

  “A private investigator,” he interjected.

  “What?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “Oh.” She took a minute to absorb that tidbit of information. “Why are you in Mapleview?”

  He hesitated.

  “Are you going to evade, mislead or redirect this time?”

  He smiled, and Riane felt her heart skip a beat.

  “I’m thinking about how to answer without revealing any confidential information.”

  She took a sip of wine, waiting.

  “I’m looking for someone,” he said at last. “A potential witness to a case I’m working on.”

  “Oh,” she said again. “Why couldn’t you tell me that the other night?”

  His lips curved again and his eyes were dark, intense as they pinned her with a look that caused her blood to heat. “I wasn’t thinking about business when I was with you.”

  It was a smooth response, and evasive. Again. She shook her head. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Joel Logan was none of her concern. As soon as he
finished whatever business had brought him to town, he would be gone, out of her life forever. Except that she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that his business would somehow affect her.

  “Why were you at the charity ball?”

  His hesitation seemed answer enough.

  “You’re looking for someone I know.”

  “I’m following a lead,” he admitted.

  “Is it someone who’s involved with my camp?” She sent up a silent but fervent prayer that the answer would be no. She couldn’t bear to think of anything negative impacting her camp and the children who so desperately needed it.

  “It has nothing to do with your camp,” Joel assured her.

  Riane wanted to believe him, but—

  “I promise.” He interrupted her thoughts with his softly spoken vow. “I know I should have told you, but my interest in you seems to have taken precedence over the case I’m working on.”

  “I thought your interest in me was solely as your tour guide.”

  “I lied,” he said easily.

  Riane lifted an eyebrow.

  “Would you have agreed to spend tomorrow with me if I’d admitted I had designs on your body?”

  “I can still change my mind.”

  “You won’t. You’re not the type of woman who would consciously break a promise. Now you’ll just have to take your chances with me.”

  “I thought it was a violation of your personal code to move in on a woman who is otherwise involved.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “But you’ve convinced me that you and Stuart aren’t engaged.”

  “Not officially.”

  “Make up your mind, Riane.” He took a step closer, and she took an instinctive step back. It was only when she felt the heavy velvet curtains behind her that she realized she’d been retreating. She forced herself to stand her ground; she wouldn’t let him intimidate her.

  “You can’t use your relationship as a shield when it suits your purpose,” Joel said, the low timbre of his voice sliding over her like a caress. “Are you engaged…or not?”

  Her throat was dry, her heart pounding. Unconsciously she swept her tongue along her bottom lip to moisten it. His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered.

  “No,” she admitted breathlessly.

  He leaned closer, and when he spoke again she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “Then I don’t have to worry about violating my personal code, do I?”

  She didn’t know what to say, how to extricate herself from the situation. She only knew that it was what she had to do. What she really wanted to do, however, was to breach the few scant inches that separated them and touch her lips to his. She wanted to—

  “I have cheesecake,” Sophie said, returning with two dessert plates in hand and effectively cutting off Riane’s building fantasy in midstride. “And fresh strawberry sauce.”

  Joel stepped back, and Riane exhaled slowly. She should be relieved by Sophie’s interruption, but she was unaccountably disappointed instead.

  “Mr. Logan was just saying that he has to get back to his hotel,” Riane said.

  “I’m sure I have time for cheesecake,” Joel countered.

  Riane glared at him; Joel grinned.

  And in that moment, Riane knew that he knew exactly how his almost-kiss had affected her, how much she’d wanted to experience the touch of his mouth against hers.

  “Good,” Sophie said, apparently oblivious to the under-currents passing between Riane and Joel. “I’ll bring in coffee for you to have with your dessert.”

  Riane couldn’t sleep, and she knew without a doubt that Joel Logan was responsible for her sudden bout of insomnia. Just as she knew it had been a mistake to invite him to come for dinner—even if it had been his suggestion rather than her own. It had been an even bigger mistake to agree to see him tomorrow.

  She had so many other things she should be doing—obligations and responsibilities. She didn’t have time to play tour guide for some bored, out-of-town P.I. And she wasn’t sure she had the willpower to continue to resist the desire inside her.

  With a groan of frustration, Riane pushed back the covers and commenced pacing the length of her bedroom. Pacing helped her to think, to get her thoughts in line and clear out her brain. But she knew, on some basic level, that it wasn’t her brain that was the problem. It was her heart.

  She groaned again, annoyed with herself for such fanciful notions. Whatever was wrong with her had more to do with her hormones than her heart. Hormones that had been stirred by Joel Logan’s mere proximity and that continued to churn restlessly.

  She sank down on the edge of her four-poster bed. Why was she so attracted to a man who was so obviously wrong for her? Was there something innately masochistic about her that she was destined to fall for men who could only break her heart?

  She pushed herself to her feet again and resumed pacing. She didn’t believe in destiny, and she was not going to fall for Joel Logan. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him—what living, breathing, heterosexual woman wouldn’t be? But feeling an attraction and acting upon it were completely different things. And Riane had no intention of acting upon this insane attraction.

  Besides, she was involved with Stuart. Stuart was a good man—solid, stable, dependable. After her disastrous relationship with Cameron Davis, that was all she wanted.

  Then why, a nagging voice from deep in her subconscious wondered, was she feeling so unsettled? And why was she pacing the floor of her bedroom at 3:00 a.m.?

  Unable to answer either of these questions, Riane found herself reaching above her dressing table and plucking a toy from the shelf. Her action may have seemed random, but the doll she instinctively sought out was the one she’d called Eden for as long as she could remember. The one she’d always found gave her a measure of peace and comfort when nothing else could.

  She couldn’t recall when she’d started her collection, and she had dolls from various countries around the world, but Eden had always been her favorite. She smiled wryly in the darkness, embarrassed to admit—even to herself—that she still found solace in the tattered old doll.

  She turned back toward the bed as a soft knock sounded at the door, immediately contrite that her nocturnal wandering had awakened the housekeeper. “Come in, Sophie.”

  The door pushed open, light spilling into Riane’s bedroom from the hallway. The housekeeper followed, an elegant gold-rimmed cup in her hand.

  “You’re restless tonight,” Sophie commented, offering the drink.

  Riane set Eden down on her pillow and cradled the delicate china between her palms. She raised the cup and inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate. Sophie had played a key role in Riane’s upbringing. She understood Riane’s moods and needs, and she knew there was nothing that worked better than chocolate when she was feeling unsettled.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Riane said. “Please, go back to bed.”

  “You didn’t wake me,” Sophie told her, picking up the doll Riane had set aside. She smoothed back the tangled hair, straightened the faded skirt of her dress. Riane hid a smile behind the cup as she sipped. It was Sophie’s nature to want to fix and soothe, even when it wasn’t always possible.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Sophie asked.

  Riane wasn’t sure she could talk about feelings she didn’t understand. She was an intelligent, educated woman, yet the intensity of her reaction to Joel Logan continued to baffle her. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s Mr. Logan,” Sophie guessed.

  “It isn’t always about a man,” Riane chided, trying to deflect Sophie’s focus.

  “It is when you’re pacing in your bedroom at 3:00 a.m.”

  Riane frowned. Being up in the middle of the night wasn’t usual for her. “I’ve never been up pacing at this hour.”

  Sophie’s smile was smug. “Exactly.”

  “Sophie, you know that I’m going to marry Stuart.”

  “I know that you think you’re going to ma
rry Stuart.”

  Riane took another sip of hot chocolate. “I thought you liked Stuart.”

  “I like him well enough for a politician.”

  “Sophie.” Such a statement was almost sacrilege in the Quinlan household, but Riane grinned.

  “He’s not right for you,” Sophie insisted.

  “He’d make a good husband,” Riane said loyally, wondering why she sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

  “You need someone who can put a sparkle in your eye, a flush in your cheek.”

  “This is reality,” Riane said dryly. “Not a fairy tale.”

  “The flush in your cheeks was real enough when Mr. Logan was here.”

  And just the memory of the almost-kiss Sophie had interrupted caused Riane’s cheeks to flush with color again. She hid behind the heirloom cup, sipped the hot drink.

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him,” Sophie told her. “There’s chemistry there.”

  “I never was any good at science,” Riane said lightly.

  “You can joke about it, but you can’t deny it.”

  Riane sighed. “Okay—I’m attracted to him.”

  “And that scares you,” Sophie guessed.

  “I haven’t felt this way since I met Cameron Davis in my first year of law school.” It was the only time she’d allowed her hormones to overrule her head, and the results had very nearly been disastrous. She refused to make the same mistake again.

  “You won’t ever be happy if you don’t follow your heart.”

  “I’m happy with Stuart,” Riane told her, but even to her own ears she didn’t sound very convincing.

  Sophie snorted. “Then why haven’t you told Mr. Logan to stop coming around?”

  “I did.”

  “And then you invited him for dinner.”

  “He invited himself,” Riane felt compelled to point out.

  “He wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t want him to be.”

  “He’s very persistent.”

  Sophie chuckled.

  “All right,” Riane admitted. “And maybe I enjoy his company.”

  “Maybe?”

  Riane shrugged, unwilling to make any further admission. Unable to express feelings she didn’t understand. The initial attraction had been purely physical. She’d spotted Joel Logan from across the room at the charity ball and had immediately been intrigued. But it was more than that. There was something about him that tugged at her—something even stronger than the self-protective instinct that warned her away.