In other words, it wasn’t as if he was breaking down her door, trying to get a date.
And he certainly wasn’t doing anything as ridiculous as not only counting the number of times they’d met, but adding up the total number of words she’d ever said to him.
With any luck, he wouldn’t even be home.
But then, of course, she’d have to come back.
Daisy and her longtime, live-in lover, Jake Robinson, had invited Crash out to the farm for dinner several times over the past few weeks. But each time he’d cancelled.
Nell had made this trip into the city to tell him that he must come. Although he wasn’t their child by blood, Crash was the closest thing to a son both Daisy and Jake had ever had. And from what Daisy had told her, Nell knew that Crash considered them his family, too. From the time he was ten, he’d spent every summer and winter break from boarding school with the slightly eccentric pair. From the time his own mother had died, Daisy had opened her home and her heart to him.
But now Daisy had been diagnosed with an inoperable cancer, and she was in the very late stages of the disease. She didn’t want Crash to hear the news over the phone, and Jake was refusing to leave her side.
That had left Nell volunteering to handle the odious task.
Damn, what was she going to say?
“HI, BILLY, UM, BILL, how are you? It’s Nell Burns…remember me?”
Crash stared at the woman standing out in the hallway, aware that he was wearing only a towel. He held the knot together with one hand while he pushed his wet hair up and out of his eyes with the other.
Nell laughed nervously, her eyes skimming his near-naked body before returning to his face. “No, you probably don’t know who I am, especially out of context this way. I work for—”
“My cousin, Daisy,” he said. “Of course I know who you are.”
“Daisy’s your cousin?” She was so genuinely surprised, she forgot to be nervous for a moment. “I didn’t realize you were actually related. I just though she was…I mean, that you were…”
The nervousness was back, and she waved her hands gracefully, in a gesture equivalent to a shrug.
“A stray she and Jake just happened to pick up?” he finished for her.
She tried to pretend that she wasn’t fazed, but with her fair coloring, Crash couldn’t miss the fact that she was blushing. Come to think of it, she’d started blushing the minute she’d realized he was standing there in only a towel.
A grown woman who still could blush. It was remarkable, really. And it was reason number five thousand and one on his list of reasons why he should stay far away from her.
She was too nice.
The very first time they’d met, the very first time Crash had looked into her eyes, his pulse had kicked into high gear. There was no doubt about it, it was a purely physical reaction. Jake had introduced him to Nell at some party Daisy had thrown. The instant he’d walked in, Crash had noticed Nell’s blond hair and her trim, slender figure, somehow enhanced by a fairly conservative little black dress. But up close, as he’d said hello, he’d gotten caught in those liquid blue eyes. The next thing he knew, he was fantasizing about taking her by the hand, pulling her with him up the stairs, into one of the spare bedrooms, pinning her against the door and just…
The alarming part was that Crash knew the physical attraction he felt was extremely mutual. Nell had given him a look that he’d seen before, in other women’s eyes.
It was a look that said she wanted to play with fire. Or at least she thought she did. But there was no way he was going to seduce this girl that Jake and Daisy had spoken so highly of. She was too nice.
He couldn’t see more than a trace of that same look in her eyes now, though. She was incredibly nervous—and upset, he realized suddenly. She was standing there, looking as if she was fighting hard to keep from bursting into tears.
“I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to spare, to sit down and talk,” she told him. For someone so slight of build, she had a deceptively low, husky voice. It was unbelievably sexy. “Maybe go out and get a cup of coffee or…?”
“I’m not exactly dressed for getting coffee.”
“I could go.” She motioned over her shoulder toward the bank of beat-up elevators. “I can wait for you downstairs. Outside. While you get dressed.”
“This isn’t a very good neighborhood,” he said. “It’d be better if you came inside to wait.”
Crash opened the door wider and stepped back to let her in. She hesitated for several long seconds, and he crossed the idea that she was here to seduce him off his list of possible reasons why she’d come.
He wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved.
She finally stepped inside, slipping off her yellow, flannel-lined slicker, hanging it by the hood on the doorknob. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a low, scooped collar that accentuated her honey-blond chin-length hair and her long, elegant neck. Her features were delicate—tiny nose, perfectly shaped lips—with the exception of her jawline, which was strong and stubbornly square.
She wasn’t conventionally beautiful, but as far as Crash was concerned, the intelligence and the sheer life in her eyes pushed her clear off the scope.
As he watched, she looked around his living room, taking in his garish purple-and-green-plaid sofa and the two matching easy chairs. She tried to hide her surprise.
“Rented furniture,” he informed her.
She was startled at first, but then she laughed. She was outrageously pretty when she laughed. “You read my mind.”
“I didn’t want you thinking I was a purple-and-green-plaid furniture type by choice.”
There was a glimmer of amusement in Crash’s eyes, and his mouth quirked into what was almost a smile as Nell gazed at him. God, was it possible that William Hawken actually had a sense of humor?
“Let me get something on,” he said as he vanished silently down a hallway toward the back of the apartment.
“Take your time,” she called after him.
The less time he took, the sooner she’d have to tell him the reason she’d come. And she’d just as soon put that off indefinitely.
Nell paced toward the picture window, once again fighting the urge to cry. All of the furniture in the room was rented, she could see that now. Even the TV had a sticker bearing the name of a rental company. It seemed such a depressing way to live—subject to other people’s tastes. She looked out at the overcast sky and sighed. There wasn’t much about today, or about the entire past week and a half, that hadn’t been depressing. As she watched, the clouds opened and it started to rain.
“Do you really want to go out in that?”
Crash’s voice came from just over her shoulder and Nell jumped.
He’d put on a pair of army pants—fatigues, she thought they were called, except instead of being green, these were black—and a black T-shirt. With his dark hair and slightly sallow complexion, he seemed to have stepped out of a black-and-white film. Even his eyes seemed more pale gray than blue.
“If you want, I could make us some coffee,” he continued. “I have beans.”
“You do?”
The amused gleam was back in his eyes. “Yeah, I know. You think, rented furniture—he probably drinks instant. But no. If I have a choice, I make it fresh. It’s a habit I picked up from Jake.”
“Actually, I didn’t really want any coffee,” Nell told him. His eyes were too disconcertingly intense, so she focused on the plaid couch instead. Her stomach was churning, and she felt as if she might be sick. “Maybe we could just, you know, sit down for a minute and…talk?”
“Okay,” Crash said. “Let’s sit down.”
Nell perched on the very edge of the couch as he took the matching chair positioned opposite the window.
She could imagine how dreadfully awful it would be if some near stranger came to her apartment to tell her that her mother had only a few months left to live.
Nell’s
eyes filled with tears that she couldn’t hold back any longer. One escaped, and she wiped it away, but not before Crash had noticed.
“Hey.” He moved around the glass-topped coffee table to sit beside her on the couch. “Are you okay?”
It was like a dam breaking. Once the tears started, she couldn’t make them stop.
Silently, she shook her head. She wasn’t okay. Now that she was here, now that she sitting in his living room, she absolutely couldn’t do this. She couldn’t tell him. How could she say such an awful thing? She covered her face with her hands.
“Nell, are you in some kind of trouble?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer.
“Did someone hurt you?” he asked.
He touched her, then. Tentatively at first, but then more firmly, putting his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“Whatever this is about, I can help,” he said quietly. She could feel his fingers in her hair, gently stroking. “This is going to be okay—I promise.”
There was such confidence in his voice. He didn’t have a clue that as soon as she opened her mouth, as soon as she told him why she’d come, it wasn’t going to be okay. Daisy was going to die, and nothing ever was going to be okay again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly.
He was so warm and his arm felt so solid around her. He smelled like soap and shampoo, fresh and innocently clean, like a child.
This was absolutely absurd. She was not a weeper. In fact, she’d held herself together completely over the past week. There had been no time to fall apart. She’d been far too busy scheduling all those second opinions and additional tests, and cancelling an entire three-week Southwestern book-signing tour. Cancelling—not postponing. God, that had been hard. Nell had spent hours on the phone with Dexter Lancaster, Jake and Daisy’s lawyer, dealing with the legal ramifications of the cancelled tour. Nothing about that had been easy.
The truth was, Daisy was more than just Nell’s employer. Daisy was her friend. She was barely forty-five years old. She should have another solid forty years of life ahead of her. It was so damned unfair.
Nell took a deep breath. “I have some bad news to tell you.”
Crash became very still. He stopped running his fingers through her hair. It was entirely possible that he stopped breathing.
But then he spoke. “Is someone dead? Jake or Daisy?”
Nell closed her eyes. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
He pushed her up, away from him, lifting her chin so that she had to look directly into his eyes. He had eyes that some people might have found scary—eyes that could seem too burningly intense, eyes that were almost inhumanly pale. As he looked at her searchingly, she felt nearly seared, but at the same time, she could see beneath to his all-too-human vulnerability.
“Just say it,” he said. “Just tell me. Come on, Nell. Point-blank.”
She opened her mouth and it all came spilling out. “Daisy’s been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. It’s malignant, it’s metastasized. The doctors have given her two months, absolute tops. It’s more likely that it will be less. Weeks. Maybe even days.”
She’d thought he’d become still before, but that was nothing compared to the absolute silence that seemed to surround him now. She could read nothing on his face, nothing in his eyes, nothing. It was as if he’d temporarily vacated his body.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his face.
Her words, or maybe her touch, seemed to bring him back from wherever it was that he’d gone.
“I missed Thanksgiving dinner,” he said, talking more to himself than to her. “I got back into town that morning, and there was a message from Jake on my machine asking me to come out to the farm, but I hadn’t slept in four days, so I crashed instead. I figured there was always next year.” Tears welled suddenly in his eyes and pain twisted his face. “Oh, my God. Oh, God, how’s Jake taking this? He can’t be taking this well….”
Crash stood up abruptly, nearly dumping her onto the floor.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I have to…I need to…” He turned to look at her. “Are they sure?”
Nell nodded, biting her lip. “They’re sure.”
It was amazing. He took a deep breath and ran his hands down his face, and just like that he was back in control. “Are you going out to the farm right now?”
Nell wiped her own eyes. “Yeah.”
“Maybe I better take my own car, in case I need to get back to the base later on. Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
Crash didn’t answer her question. “I’ll need to pack a few things and make a quick phone call, but then I’ll be right behind you.”
Nell stood up. “Why don’t you take your time, plan to come out a few hours before dinner? That’ll give you a chance to—”
Again, he ignored her. “I know how hard this must’ve been for you.” He opened the door to the hallway, holding her jacket out for her. “Thank you for coming here.”
He was standing there, so distant, so unapproachable and so achingly alone. Nell couldn’t stand it. She put her jacket down and reached for him, pulling him close in a hug. He was so stiff and unyielding, but she closed her eyes, refusing to be intimidated. He needed this. Hell, she needed this. “It’s okay if you cry,” she whispered.
His voice was hoarse. “Crying won’t change anything. Crying won’t keep Daisy alive.”
“You don’t cry for her,” Nell told him. “You cry for you. So that when you see her, you’ll be able to smile.”
“I don’t smile enough. She’s always on my case because I don’t smile enough.” His arms suddenly tightened around her, nearly taking her breath away.
Nell held him just as tightly, wishing that he was crying, knowing that he wasn’t. Those tears she’d seen in his eyes, the pain that had been etched across his face had been a slip, a fluke. She knew without a doubt that he normally kept such emotions under careful control.
She would have held him all afternoon if he’d let her, but he stepped back far too soon, his face expressionless, stiff and unapproachable once again.
“I’ll see you back there,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Nell nodded, slipping into her raincoat. He closed the door quietly behind her, and she took the elevator down to the lobby. As she stepped out into the grayness of the early afternoon, the rain turned to sleet.
Winter was coming, but for the first time Nell could remember, she was in no real hurry to rush the days to spring.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT YOU WANT TO DO,” Daisy was saying, “is not so much draw an exact picture of the puppy—what a camera lens might see—but rather to draw what you see, what you feel.”
Nell looked over Jake’s shoulder and giggled. “Jake feels an aardvark.”
“That’s not an aardvark, that’s a dog.” Jake looked plaintively at Daisy. “I thought I did okay, don’t you think, babe?”
Daisy kissed the top of his head. “It’s a beautiful, wonderful…aardvark.”
As Crash watched from the doorway of Daisy’s studio, Jake grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, tickling her. The puppy started barking, adding canine chaos to Daisy’s shouts of laughter.
Nothing had changed.
Three days had passed since Nell had told Crash about Daisy’s illness and he’d gone out to the farm, dreading facing both Daisy and Jake. They’d both cried when they saw him, and he’d asked a million questions, trying to find what they might have missed, trying to turn it all into one giant mistake.
How could Daisy be dying? She looked almost exactly the same as she ever had. Despite being given a virtual death sentence by her doctors, Daisy was still Daisy—colorful, outspoken, passionately enthusiastic.
Crash could pretend that the dark circles under her eyes were from the fact that she’d been up all night
again, painting, caught in one of her creative spurts. He could find an excuse for her sudden, sharp drop in weight—it was simply the result of her finally finding a diet that she stuck to, finally finding a way to shed those twenty pounds that she always complained were permanently attached to her hips and thighs.
But he couldn’t ignore the rows of prescription medicines that had appeared on the kitchen counter. Painkillers. They were mostly painkillers that Crash knew Daisy resisted taking.
Daisy had told Crash that he and Jake and Nell would all have to learn to grieve on their own time. She herself had no time to spare for sad faces and teary eyes. She approached each day as if it were a gift, as if each sunset were a masterpiece, each moment of shared laughter a treasure.
It would only be a matter of time, though, before the tumor affected her ability to walk and move, to paint and even to speak.
But now, as Crash watched, Daisy was the same as always.
Jake kissed her lightly, sweetly on the lips. “I’m going to take my aardvark into my office and return Dex’s call.”
Dexter Lancaster was one of the few people who actually knew of Daisy’s illness. Dex had served in Vietnam when Jake had, but not as part of the SEAL units. The lawyer had been with the Army, in some kind of support-services role.
“I’ll see you later, babe, all right?” Jake added.
Daisy nodded, sliding off his lap and straightening his wayward dark curls, her fingers lingering at the gray at his temples.
Jake was the kind of man who just kept getting better looking as he got older. He’d been incandescently, gleamingly handsome in his twenties and rakishly handsome in his thirties and forties. Now, in his fifties, time had given his face laugh lines and a craggy maturity that illustrated his intense strength of character. With deep blue eyes that could both sparkle with warmth and laughter or penetrate steel in anger, with his upfront, in-your-face, honestly sincere approach and his outrageous sense of humor, Crash knew that Jake could have had any woman, any woman he wanted.
Tall, Dark and Dangerous Vol 1: Tall, Dark and FearlessTall, Dark and Devastating Page 127
