Hidden Hearts

by Olivia Dade

  This time, he didn’t arrive right before Battlefield’s closing time, but during Mary’s usual lunchtime. Sure enough, when he walked into the building, he saw Angie and a petite brunette sitting behind the circulation desk. No Mary in sight. From her e-mails, he figured she’d settled in the quiet of the community room, eating the lunch she packed every day as she researched something for a patron.

  Angie greeted him with a blinding smile as he came up to the desk, while the brunette—Penny, he suspected, given Mary’s description in her e-mails—regarded him thoughtfully.

  “Hello again,” Angie said. “Here to check out books? Or to check out a librarian?”

  Penny closed her eyes and sighed. “Subtle, Burrowes. Really subtle.”

  “No use beating around the bush.” Angie’s grin widened. “So to speak. Anyway, are you here to see Mary, Mr. O’Connor?”

  “Please call me Miles.” He shifted his weight. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to her while she has lunch.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. But she might.” The Battlefield manager waved a hand toward the community room door. “Go ahead and find out. The door’s unlocked, even though the lights are off.”

  Penny’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t object.

  With a nod to both ladies, he went into the entryway and quietly opened the door to the community room. The shades had been drawn, but enough light filtered through the thin fabric to illuminate the space. The generously sized room boasted a kitchenette, a lectern, and two long tables surrounded by chairs, making it a perfect venue for large meetings and programs.

  Mary sat in one of those chairs, her gaze on a huge book—a dictionary?—as she ate chunks of melon with a fork. Absorbed in her reading, she didn’t look up when he entered the room. He shut the door with slightly more force than he’d used to open it, enough to announce his arrival.

  Although her brown eyes widened in surprise, she didn’t seem bothered by his presence. She also, however, didn’t throw herself into his arms—well, arm—the same way she’d done Friday evening. Instead, she simply closed the book, which he could now see was a medical encyclopedia. Then she offered him a sweet smile. The same smile he’d seen her offer to the kids in that newspaper photo.

  “Hi, Miles.” She remained seated. “Good to see you again.”

  It was a greeting she could have given anyone. He couldn’t stand it, not after months of daily correspondence and dreams.

  As soon as he opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop the avalanche of words. “I wanted to have dinner with you on Friday, but I was afraid to go out in public. My clothing didn’t fit. My beard looked like I’d trimmed it with a weed whacker. My hair had reached the ‘Cousin It’ stage. I was basically Tom Hanks in Castaway, only with fewer limbs and excuses.”

  She straightened in her chair. “I didn’t care about any of that. I don’t care about any of that. Although I will say that you look especially handsome today. Green suits you.”

  “Thank you.” With those words, all his efforts during the morning had become completely worthwhile. But he wasn’t finished telling her what she needed to know. So after another deep breath, he kept going. “I spent the past month trying to lose my pizza-baby weight so I’d look presentable for you, but at the last minute, when you asked me to eat dinner out in public, I panicked. Not just because of my clothing or my beard or my hair, but because of this.”

  With a jerk, he extended his right arm. “I have one hand, Mary. One wrist. One forearm. One elbow. Maybe I shouldn’t care that people stare, but I do. And it’s even worse when they deliberately look the other way, like my missing arm is so alarming or distasteful that a single glance might turn them to stone, or like amputation is a disease they might catch via eye contact.”

  Her face crumpled in sympathy, but he didn’t stop.

  “I don’t want to go out with you as your friend. Or not simply as your friend. I want to be your date. But I don’t know whether I’m at the point where I can expose myself to a restaurant full of strangers and still relax enough to be myself and show you who I am.”

  She inclined her head. “I understand.”

  “So please come to my house for dinner tonight. I got the cabin cleaned, so I won’t embarrass myself too much by showing you where I live.” Striding up to her table, he stretched out his hand. And when she took it in hers, he exhaled for what felt like the first time in months. “Please say you’ll give me a chance.”

  Her hand squeezed his, and she bit her lip for a second before responding. “Miles, I’m sorry, but…no.”

  He almost doubled over from the pain of the blow.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve just told me, and I’m honored you trust me enough to share your feelings so honestly.” She shook her head, looking pained. “But I still don’t know enough about you to go to your house. No matter how much I want to date you, you’re a man who refuses to discuss anything but the last four months of your life. I have to use some common sense. So if you can’t go out in public and I won’t see you in private, I think we’re at an impasse.”

  His head dropped to his chest. He considered his life in California irrelevant at this point. Over and done with, unless someone recognized him—and that wasn’t an issue he’d wanted to address with Mary yet. Not considering all the other baggage he was already bringing to any relationship with her.

  But if she needed to know before they could proceed as a couple, fine.

  He tugged firmly at her hand. “Come with me.”

  Her lips parted in surprise, but she rose to her feet. “Okay.”

  Her fingers still intertwined with his, he led her to the door of the community room and waited for her to open it.

  “No free hand,” he commented wryly, and she gave a little giggle.

  He steered her past the circulation desk and two very attentive librarians, all the way across the library to the DVD and Blu-ray section. He knew what he’d find. The other day, during Mary’s tour of the premises, she’d shown him this section, and he’d studied its contents.

  The movies didn’t interest him. Neither did the educational videos.

  They reached the TV series shelf, and he scanned the titles—arranged alphabetically by the name of the show—to see where the Ns started.

  And then, finally, there it was.

  He let go of her hand so he could pluck the Blu-ray from the shelf. Her brows drawn, she accepted the case without question and turned it over in her grasp.

  “Miles? What does this have to do with—” She peered at the cover and gasped. Much louder than when she’d seen his missing arm, he couldn’t help but note. “Are you telling me—but there’s no way. How in the world could you possibly be—”

  He offered her a shallow bow. “Miles O’Connor. The Naked Carpenter, at your service.”

  6

  When Mary’s mouth dropped open, Miles scrambled to explain. “I know that sounds like I made adult films with punny titles about hammering, but I swear, it was a family-friendly show. Mostly, I just built stuff all over the world and talked about how each area’s local conditions influenced architecture and building methods.”

  He glanced down at the cover of the Blu-ray and winced. “I also promise I wasn’t actually nude during the filming. By ‘naked,’ they meant I built things without using complicated tools or expensive supplies.” His hesitation lasted a couple of awkward seconds. “Also that I tended to take my shirt off when I got overheated. And I kinda got overheated a lot.”

  Honestly, the precise premise of The Naked Carpenter and how it came by its name were the least of her concerns right now. She knew a show on the Home and Away Network wouldn’t involve anything too lurid.

  No, she definitely had bigger questions. “You’re a TV star? Then what in the world are you doing here in Nice County?”

  No wonder he looked so familiar. Her friend Constance had been lusting after him for years. Years. There was even a poster of th
e darn man on board the Bookmobile, but somehow Mary had still managed not to recognize him.

  Sure, when she’d first seen him, he’d grown out his hair, acquired a beard, and gained a few pounds. But how had she missed the resemblance? Especially after his shave and haircut? Had she really been so focused on his missing arm? Or had she simply not wanted to notice what was right in front of her?

  He shrugged. “After this”—his eyes flicked to his left side—“I was looking for a place to recover in peace and quiet. My camerawoman said she had a cousin who owned a secluded cabin in rural Maryland, one he wanted to rent out. That sounded good enough to me.”

  A woman sitting at the public computers looked over at them. When her gaze hit Miles, she seemed to freeze, and her eyes got big.

  “Let’s keep talking in the community room.” Mary nudged him in that direction, and he preceded her. As soon as the door shut behind them, she told him, “With that beard gone and your hair cut, you’re not going to be able to stay anonymous for much longer, if that’s what you were hoping. I think one of the patrons just recognized you.”

  “Crap.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a sigh. “I forgot to put my cap back on. I was in too much of a hurry to see you again.”

  She pursed her lips, fighting the warmth created by his words. “I take it you want to remain incognito.”

  “Preferably, yeah. I’d rather be Miles O’Connor, random weirdo in a cabin, than Miles O’Connor, former TV star fallen from grace. Literally. But I knew what might happen when I got cleaned up for you. You’re worth it, Mary.”

  More warmth. Holy cow, if he kept complimenting her, she was going to become a pile of goo right there on the gray carpet. And she suspected the library’s cleaning woman would not appreciate a pool of melted Mary.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She kept peering at the Blu-ray in her hand, hoping she’d see another man on the cover. But no, there he was each time. Tanned and muscular, a two-by-four slung casually across his shoulder as he grinned for the camera.

  Jeez, she’d never have found the nerve to e-mail that man even once, much less hundreds of times. And now that she knew his background, she knew one thing for sure: No way were they going on a date, despite all her foolish daydreams.

  His head tilted, he studied her. “Why do I get the sense my former job upsets you more than my missing arm does?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m upset, exactly.” She pressed her hands together. “I mean, good for you. I’ve never watched the show, but my friend Constance raves about it all the time. Congratulations on your success, Miles. Sincerely.”

  “But?” Those hazel eyes burned right through her.

  “I don’t date casually. If I know there’s no future, I’m not interested. So…” The smile seemed to crack her cheeks, but she forced it anyway. “We can stay friends, of course. But I think anything more than that is out of the question.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She could see he didn’t. The lines across his forehead—the ones caused by the sun, which now made total sense—deepened with his confusion.

  “This is a temporary stop for you. You’re going back to California at some point. And I’m not willing to start something that has an end date in sight.”

  The carpet swam before her eyes. Sure, she wanted to get to know him better. More than any other man she could remember. But she knew herself too well to embark on a voyage that would leave her shipwrecked and alone in the end. Some women could take that chance. Risk-taking, though, wasn’t in her DNA. Not anymore.

  And California, of all places? No way. No way, no how.

  His hand gently clasped her upper arm, and she looked up to see him close. So close she could smell that expensive fragrance, which also made sense for the first time.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Nice County is my final destination. I promise.” His hazel eyes pleaded with her. Begged her to trust his sincerity. “I just need to figure out my next step. Whatever it is, though, it’ll happen right here.”

  He thought he was telling the truth. She didn’t question that. But she also didn’t believe him. “I know you don’t intend to leave, but you will. When your old life comes calling and wants you back.”

  In a seemingly unconscious gesture, his thumb stroked her arm through her blouse. She held her breath at the intimacy of the light contact, a shiver building at the base of her spine. But after a moment, the calloused pad of his finger snagged on the fabric, and the spell was broken.

  His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to damage your shirt.”

  With one step back, he took himself out of easy touching distance. She exhaled slowly, disappointment mingling with her relief.

  “You didn’t. See?” She smoothed her fingers over the fabric. “It’s fine.”

  He straightened his shoulders, and his jaw firmed with determination.

  “Whether you believe me or not, I’m not going anywhere, so that’s not an issue. You wanted to find out more about me and my past. There it is.” He nodded to the Blu-ray in her hand. “Pretty much anything you need to know about me, you can find either on my show or online. And feel free to give your friends my contact information. You can all run background checks, look at old paparazzi pics, whatever. When it comes to you, my life is an open book. Just say you’ll agree to a real date at my house tonight.”

  She shouldn’t. She knew a man at a crossroads in his life when she saw one. Maybe he’d choose the same path she did, and maybe he wouldn’t. A woman averse to risks wouldn’t take the gamble.

  Maybe, though, she was standing at a crossroads too. And maybe she wasn’t quite as unwilling to take her chances as she’d previously thought.

  “Okay.” Her arm still felt warm where he’d touched it, the skin tingling and sensitive. “I’ll do it. It’s a date.”

  His clean-shaven smile revealed adorable creases in his cheeks. “Really?”

  “Really.” She shook her head, trying to look stern despite her answering grin. “Now please let me get back to work. I can’t stay late tonight, Miles. I have plans, you know.”

  * * *

  When Mary parked on Miles’s gravel driveway that evening, Eugene pulled up beside her in his pizza delivery car. She couldn’t say she was surprised. Although she didn’t doubt that Miles would eventually be able to pull together a gourmet dinner for two—assuming he knew how to cook, anyway—she figured he probably wasn’t ready for a challenge of that magnitude yet.

  She cracked her door. “Hi, Eugene. How are you doing?”

  “Mary?” He squinted at her. “Is that you?”

  “In the flesh.” She smiled. “Are you here with my dinner?”

  His squint transformed into a narrow-eyed look of determination. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Mary blinked as he stomped toward the front porch. What in the world does that mean?

  Despite her curiosity, she couldn’t ask him right away. Checking her hair and makeup in the rearview mirror took a few seconds. So did eyeing the wood-timbered cabin, which was charming despite the sagging front porch and peeling white paint on the door and window frames. By the time she made it up the two steps to the porch, the driver had rung the doorbell. And before she could say anything more to Eugene, Miles answered the door.

  Oh, my. Wearing a bright blue T-shirt and pristine jeans, his hair still damp from the shower, he sucked all the air from her lungs. From the universe, really. And when his eyes met hers, all she could do was part her lips, attempt to breathe, and hope oxygen would resume flowing to her brain at some point in the near future.

  He offered her a quick grin before focusing on the man in front of him. “Hey, Eugene.”

  Eugene glowered at his customer. “I thought you’d changed.” He opened the screen door and shoved a box toward Miles. “But here you are, jonesing for another pie only three days after your last one. And even worse, inflicting your terrib
le life choices on an innocent young woman. Time to face the facts, son: You’re a gluten glutton. A crusthead. A pizza stoner.”

  “Now, Eugene,” she said soothingly, “it’s just one pizza. You have to admit, that’s a little harsh.”

  “He got three pizzas. Three! The rest are in there.” He jerked a thumb toward his rusted compact car. “He’s escalating again, Mary, and I want no part of it. But my code of professional ethics forces me to serve him anyway. It’s an untenable situation, morally speaking.”

  If Miles rolled his eyes any higher, he was going to lose them in the back of his head. Mary bit back a laugh at his long-suffering expression, loath to offend sweet Eugene.

  “First of all, I had no idea what Mary wanted on her pizza, so I ordered several. I’m not escalating.” Miles looked from her to Eugene and back again. “Second of all, you two know each other?”

  Eugene snorted. “Uh, yeah. Of course we do.”

  “I grew up here,” she reminded Miles. “And every Friday night at the Higgs residence was Pizza Night, so we saw Eugene all the time. He makes the best pizza around.”

  Then it was Miles’s turn to snort. “He also makes the only pi—”

  “Anyway”—she cast him a chastising look before turning back to Eugene—“I’m sure this is an aberration. I promise I’ll keep an eye on his pizza consumption.”

  “Don’t let him drag you into his doughy web of despair, young lady.”

  A violent coughing fit overtook Miles, and he turned away, his shoulders shaking.

  “I’ll be careful.” She bit back a smile. “Should we maybe take the other pizzas off your hands before they get cold? And don’t we need to pay you?”

  “I don’t want you supporting his habit. Make him pay.” With a final grunt of disapproval in Miles’s direction, Eugene headed to his car. “I’m doing this against my better judgment. His arteries are going to turn as hard as my brick pizza oven.”

  Miles hooked his arm around her waist from behind. “I wouldn’t have let you pay anyway. When I ask a lady out on a date, I pick up the check. Even if our dinner involves pizza delivered by a madman.”