by Debra Cowan
Help me. Which had to explain why he’d lost his mind and volunteered to take care of her.
She walked into the massive living room, turning in a slow circle as her gaze swept up to the rough-hewn beams of the vaulted ceiling. She glanced over the large oatmeal-colored sectional sofa and love seat, the framed watercolors of animal life on the wall, including one of his German shepherds, Chester and Buckley.
She held her broken arm close to her side, her good one wrapped around her waist. Though she stood about five-seven and exuded a viable strength, she appeared frail and alone in the middle of the big room.
She turned, dark shadows under her eyes. Fatigue drew taut lines around her generous mouth, sharpened the angle of her high cheekbones. “It’s beautiful. And so large. I guess I won’t be in your way.”
“Not at all.” He said the polite thing, feeling exhaustion work its way through his body. He’d had less than ten hours of sleep out of the last sixty and he was starting to feel it in the ache of muscle, the burn in his eyes.
The faint whiff of her fabric softener drifted to him and he realized suddenly how empty his house was, how empty he was.
Well, that was the way he wanted it for now. For always, he amended. Though he sometimes would have liked to have someone with whom to share dinner or discuss movies or music, he wasn’t interested in furthering a relationship past the physical. He’d dated a few women since Michelle had left and he never. called any of them after the first date.
He’d learned the hard way that women couldn’t be trusted, even a woman a man thought he knew inside out. He and Michelle had been together through some pretty lean years. He’d worked as a roughneck, supporting her through medical school, then she had supported him through the same grueling four years.
Just as Linc felt they’d gotten on their feet, paid off their medical school bills, she’d up and left with Mike Blaisdale, Linc’s good friend and lab partner from medical school who’d become a fabulously wealthy neurosurgeon. And Michelle’s lover. And a father—
Jenna faced him, pulling his thoughts from the mire of the past. “I appreciate you letting me stay, but I hope you don’t—won’t—feel the need to wait on me.” She lifted her right arm, heavy with the cast. “I’m not a complete invalid. I can still do some things.”
Her features were pinched with fatigue, drawing the gash at her temple into stark relief. At the wariness in her sea green eyes, his heart squeezed.
“Don’t worry, Jenna. I’ll try not to get in your way.” He could’ve given her the soft sell, tiptoed around it, but he was tired. And he felt he owed her the same bluntness she’d given him.
He strode toward the couch, heading for the open doorway and the kitchen opposite him. “Would you like something to eat?”
“You can just show me to the kitchen and I’ll fix something.”
“I’m going there anyway. I haven’t eaten in a while, either.”
She regarded him steadily, as if trying to determine whether he told the truth.
He stopped, waiting, and finally she nodded.
“That would be nice.” Her voice was still brusque.
He figured she had as much reason to trust men as he had to trust women and that was fine with him.
Just as he turned to go to the kitchen, the doorbell sounded. Startled, his gaze went to Jenna’s as he moved toward the front door.
Apprehension clouded her eyes and he acknowledged the same concern. But when he looked out the peephole, he exhaled in relief. “It’s Mace. And Devon,” he added in surprise.
“Oh,” Jenna breathed, visibly relaxing.
Linc opened the door. “Hey, what are two you doing here?”
He stepped back to let the couple inside. His sister-in-law, a dainty brunette with silver-green eyes, smiled warmly at him and walked toward Jenna carrying a casserole dish and a long foil-wrapped package that trailed a scent of fresh-baked bread. Mace followed, closing the door.
Linc moved up beside his brother. “What’s going on?”
“Has something happened?” Jenna stepped forward, her wan features once again concerned.
Mace smiled reassuringly. “Everything’s fine. My wife wanted to meet you—”
“Actually,” Devon interrupted softly, “I thought you might need a hot meal. Left to Linc, you’d probably get a sandwich or something out of a can.” Her eyes twinkled with a teasing warmth Linc was coming to appreciate.
Devon and Mace had actually planned to marry last year, before Devon’s father had died. After that trauma, Devon had walked away from Mace only to wind up needing his protection from the men who’d murdered her father. Linc believed Devon would only hurt Mace again and he’d been dead set against Mace hooking up with her. But in the weeks since their marriage, Linc had begun to realize he might be wrong about his sister-in-law.
Devon shoved the casserole dish and bread at him, then turned to Jenna. “Hi, I’m Devon Garrett.”
“Hello.” The wariness in Jenna’s eyes disappeared and Linc noted an inviting openness tempered with curiosity in the blue-green depths.
“I’ll put this in the kitchen.” He inhaled deeply, taking in the rich scent of tomatoes and herbs. “What is it?”
“Baked manicotti. I hope you like pasta,” Devon said to Jenna.
The other woman smiled. “Love it! It smells great.”
“We won’t stay long. I’m sure you need to rest—”
Devon’s voice faded as Linc strode into the kitchen. Done in light oak, complemented by green-and-white tile, the room was open and fresh-looking. Oak cabinets gleamed, lining three walls of the room in a U-shape. The refrigerator occupied the space on one end of the cabinets; the sink, dishwasher and trash compactor marched the length of the short wall. There was a large center island for cooking.
He rarely ate here, but when he did, he cooked. At first he’d learned out of necessity, but now he liked it.
He glanced at Mace, who had followed him. His brother now stood in the kitchen doorway watching his wife and wearing the same silly grin he’d worn since his wedding six weeks ago.
“What’s really going on, Mace? You checking up on me?”
“Devon is. She didn’t believe me when I told her you’d offered to take in Jenna.”
“I’m sure you told her you were just as skeptical.”
Mace flashed him a sly grin.
Linc shook his head in fond exasperation. He stepped up beside his brother, noting how comfortable Jenna seemed with his sister-in-law. “How is Devon adjusting to being a cop’s wife?”
“She’s great.” Mace smiled tenderly and Linc experienced twin pangs of joy and jealousy.
He’d once thought he and Michelle were that much in love, that committed to each other. Now he knew he would never open himself up to anyone like that again. He tore his gaze from the auburn sweep of Jenna’s hair. “Devon seems to have survived that mess with the mobster.”
“She has. And once that trial is over, she’ll never look back.”
“So she’s okay?”
“Yes.” Mace’s gaze, blazing with pride for his wife, met Linc’s.
He nodded. This time, Mace and Devon just might make it. Devon had let fear of Mace’s job drive her away before, but she seemed much stronger now.
Mace moved back toward the women, who still stood in the entryway. He slid an arm around Devon’s waist. “We’d better go, babe.”
She nodded, smiling at Jenna. “Please call if you need anything. You too, Linc.”
He smiled, moving to the front door. “Thanks for supper, Devon. You were right. I was about to offer Jenna a ham sandwich.”
She grinned, her eyes shining at him as she walked outside. “Bye, Jenna.”
“Goodbye. And thanks.” Jenna smiled warmly and waved at the departing couple.
After Mace promised to come by the next day, Linc closed the door. “We’d better eat before it gets cold.”
Jenna nodded and followed him into the kitchen, moving to sta
nd before the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the backwoods.
A green-and-white striped valance gave a tidy look without overwhelming the view. A small breakfast table and four chairs were situated in front of the window.
Linc retrieved plates and silverware then dished up the manicotti while she stood quietly at the window, a slender figure who tugged at his heart.
He turned away, cursing silently. The woman was a patient who happened to be an acquaintance, nothing more.
She laughed softly, her voice raspy. “I see Chester and Buckley have raided the woods.”
Linc glanced up to see the dogs come racing out of the trees, chasing a rabbit. He smiled and carried two plates full of pasta and bread to the table.
They ate in silence, Jenna staring out the window so quietly that Linc almost forgot she was there until her chair scraped across the floor.
She rose, picking up her plate with her left hand.
“Thanks. That was delicious. It was nice to have something besides hospital food.”
“My sister-in-law’s a pretty good cook.”
“Yes. And very nice. I enjoyed meeting her.”
He smiled in acknowledgement as he took his plate to the sink. “Just leave your dishes. I’ll get them later.”
She looked about to argue and he stalled her. “I thought I’d show you to your room. You need to get some sleep.”
Defiance firmed her lips, but before she could protest, he amended. “You’re probably ready for some.”
She hesitated then nodded. “I am tired.”
He walked out of the kitchen and back toward the living area. “Right this way.”
All the bedrooms were on the far side of the house and Linc crossed the gray flagstone foyer to walk into a long hallway. He flipped on the light and turned to the left, leading the way past two bedrooms and a bath and walking into a room at the end of the hall.
Jenna followed him inside and froze. With open amazement, she stared at the large four-poster bed, swagged with Italian linen and piled high with pillows—round, square, small, large, tasseled. “Wow.”
He’d done that for Michelle, too. For nothing.
“Are you sure I should sleep there? It looks too pretty to mess up.”
He was floored by a vivid image of her resting peacefully in the middle of that bed, her auburn hair dark against the pale linen of the pillows. “I’d like someone to get some use out of it.”
Too late he realized the bitterness in his voice and ignored the sharp glance she threw him. He made no sound on the plush taupe-colored carpet as he walked past the bed and skirted a floral chaise longue and wingback chair to open a door and flip on another light. “You’ll have your own bathroom. There should be plenty of towels inside.”
“Thanks.” Once again her voice was cool, distant.
He realized belatedly that she probably felt uncomfortable in a bedroom with a man. He strode quickly past her and stopped in the doorway. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m at the opposite end of the hall and I can hear you if you call out.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Her voice was smooth, but he saw that she fingered her cast nervously. Her gaze darted around the room, stopping everywhere except that big bed.
Compassion welled up in him again and he said goodnight. Upon reaching his own room he closed the door and shucked off his boots, yanking his red pullover out of his jeans and over his head.
This had to be the weirdest time he’d ever spent with a woman, here or anywhere else. He was in his bedroom; she was at the opposite end of the hall.
It didn’t matter that he told himself he didn’t think of Jenna West in a sexual way. He’d have to be dead not to notice those mile-long legs, that generous mouth, or those eyes.
Just the thought of her sleeping in that bed kicked off a nearly forgotten burst of heat in his belly. It was a good thing they’d both agreed to distance. Neither of them wanted anything else. Neither of them needed anything else, either.
Stripping down to his underwear, he crawled into bed, sinking into the cushy mattress. He closed his eyes, allowing his body to slow down, skimming through all the procedures he’d performed the last few days.
It was an automatic process, the way he unwound after being on duty. He sometimes analyzed his work as the memories flowed over him, relaxing. He’d be asleep in minutes.
Three hours later he was still awake. His body was so tired it ached. His mind was fatigued, yet it kept hurling images and words and procedures at him. Frustrated, he remembered that he hadn’t let the dogs in for the night and he rose, grabbing a pair of cotton knit shorts from his bureau.
Opening the door quietly, he saw a silvery light flickering under Jenna’s door and heard the soft murmur of the television. So, she couldn’t sleep either.
He padded to the kitchen and let the dogs in the door opposite the breakfast nook. Excited to see him, the shepherds whined and sat right on his feet, tails thumping on the floor. He scratched them both generously behind the ears and they panted in excited pleasure.
He fed them, leaning against the center island as they sucked down their food like vacuum hoses and then he snapped his fingers. “Come.”
Calmer now, they followed him, sniffing industriously at the floor and the couches they passed on the way to his room. He knew they could smell Jenna and he paused in the hallway. The light was still on, the television still humming. Chester stepped toward her room.
“Stay, boy,” Linc commanded softly.
The dog whined, but levered himself onto his haunches, his ears pricking as he looked expectantly at Linc. Buckley did the same.
Linc hesitated. Maybe she was in too much pain to sleep.
He didn’t recall that she’d taken any more pain medication at dinner. Some doctor he was, he thought ruefully. Jogging back to the kitchen, he shook out one of the tiny pain pills from her prescription bottle and returned to her room.
Telling the dogs to stay, he walked to her door and knocked softly.
“Yes?” Her voice was flat and unwelcoming.
He cracked open the door, prepared for the sight, but still startled to see her in the middle of his bed. She looked tiny. She hadn’t disturbed the pillows except to make herself a path in the middle of them.
“Are you okay?”
“Can’t sleep.”
“Do you need some pain medication? I didn’t think to ask earlier.”
She hesitated. “No.”
“Are you sure? I think maybe—”
“I said I don’t need any.”
He eyed her for a moment. “All right.”
She looked away, reluctance crossing her features then she glanced back at him. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“No need.” His gaze went to the TV and he recognized Dick Van Dyke. He chuckled. “That’s one of my favorites.”
He felt a gust of hot breath against his leg and looked down.
Chester and Buckley peered around him, eyeing Jenna as if she were a Milk-Bone. She saw them and a warm welcoming smile eased across her features.
Even in the garish light, Linc felt the kick of that smile clear down to his toes.
“Hello, boys,” she crooned in a smoke-and-honey voice.
Linc had a sudden fierce wish to hear her say his name in that throaty caressing tone. Chester and Buckley wiggled and bumped against Linc’s legs, but stayed where they were.
“Can’t they come in?”
His heart tilted at the wistfulness in her voice. As if he gave in to women every day, he heard himself saying, “Sure.”
Chester and Buckley didn’t even wait for Linc’s okay. They raced into the room and up to the bed, wagging their tails so hard Linc was surprised they didn’t knock over the furniture.
Jenna pushed aside the pillows and scooted to the edge of the bed, reaching down with her left hand to scratch their ears as she murmured to them. Chester whimpered low in his throat and closed his eyes in bliss.
She laughed softl
y. “It’s good to see you, too, Chester.”
Linc had a burning urge to walk over there and sit on the edge of the bed with her, but he hadn’t been invited. Only the dogs. Still, he moved to the bedside table and placed the small pain tablet on the polished wood surface.
“Are you sure you won’t take a pill?”
Her smile dimmed. “If I want one, I’ll get it.”
“Fine.” Clearly unwelcome, he turned for the door.
“I guess I’ll be apologizing the whole time I’m here.” She sounded impatient, though not with him.
He glanced over his shoulder. He knew her anger wasn’t directed at him, knew it was tied to the helplessness forced on her by Deke Ramsey.
“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “You’ve been through a pretty rough time.”
Her gaze met his and he read painful relief in the vibrant depths of her eyes. Her features softened, restoring the serenity to her battered face. “It’s no cause to be rude.”
His gaze shifted to her lips then away. “You can keep the dogs in here if you want.”
She smiled, then winced in pain though the light in her eyes didn’t dim. “I’d like that.”
He nodded, hesitant to leave though he didn’t know why. “Well ... good night.”
“Good night.” She whispered something to Chester and the dog dropped to the floor, settling his head between his front paws. Buckley did the same, flopping down and exhaling loudly.
Obviously dismissed, Linc shook his head and closed the door.
Chapter 3
The next morning, fear and resentment churned inside her, fusing with the pain until she could barely tell the difference. She hadn’t slept. The pain medication Linc had offered would’ve helped with that, but she didn’t want to close her eyes.
Every time she did, Ramsey’s face leered at her. His vicious words circled inside her head—what he would do to her, how he would do it. Just the thought of Ramsey finding her again made her heart pound hard enough to rock her body.
Her throat tightened, aching painfully and she was reminded anew of his massive hands around her throat, squeezing, pressing until black spots swirled in front of her eyes.
