“Hey, you look pretty good,” he exclaimed, meeting her halfway across the bay.
Rachel felt heat sting her cheeks. She was blushing again! Her old childhood response always seemed to show up at the most embarrassing times. She studied the man before her; he was dressed in his usual dark blue pants and shirt, the patches for the fire department adorning the sleeves. When he offered his hand to her, she was struck by the symbolic gesture. A Donovan and a Cunningham meeting not in anger, but in friendship. As far as she knew it was a first, and Rachel welcomed it.
As she slid her hand into his big square one she felt the calluses and strength of it. Yet she could feel by his grip that he was carefully monitoring that strength. But what Rachel noticed most of all was the incredible warmth and joy in his eyes. It stunned her. He was a Cunningham, she, a Donovan. Nearly a century-old feud stood between them, and a lot of bad blood.
“I should hope I look better,” Rachel replied with a low, husky laugh. “I’m not a homeopath for nothing.”
Jim forced himself to release Rachel’s long, thin fingers. She had the hands of a doctor, a surgeon, maybe. There was such a fluid grace about her as she moved. Suddenly he remembered that she could have bled to death the other day if they hadn’t arrived on scene to help her when they had, and he was shaken deeply once again.
“I’m just finishing up my shift.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to do some repacking in the ambulance. Come on back and keep me company?”
She touched her cheek, knowing the heat in it was obvious. “I didn’t want to bother you—”
“You’re not a bother, believe me,” he confided sincerely as he slid his hand beneath her elbow and guided her between the gargantuan fire trucks to the boxy ambulance that sat at the rear.
As Rachel allowed him to guide her, she saw a number of men and women firefighters, most of them watching television in the room off the main hangar. Yet she hardly noticed them. So many emotions were flowing through her as Jim cupped her elbow. What she recalled of him from junior high was a painfully shy teenager who couldn’t look anyone directly in the eye. Of course, she understood that; she hadn’t exactly been the homecoming queen type herself. Two shadows thrown together by life circumstance, Rachel thought, musing about their recent meeting.
Once they reached the back of the ambulance, Jim urged her to climb in. “You can sit in the hot seat,” he joked, and pointed to the right of the gurney, where the next patient would lie.
Rachel carefully climbed in. She sat down and looked around. “Is this the one I was in?”
Jim smiled a little and opened up a box of rolled bandages. He counted out six and then stepped up into the ambulance. “Yes, it was,” he said, sliding the plastic door on one of the shelves to one side to arrange the bandages. “We call her Ginger.”
“I like that. You named your truck.”
“Actually, my partner, Larry, named her.” Jim made a motion toward the front of the ambulance. “All the fire trucks are ladies and they all have names, too.” He studied Rachel as he crouched by one of the panels. “You look like your accident never happened. How are you feeling?”
With a slight laugh, she said, “Well, let’s put it this way—my two sisters, Kate and Jessica, are getting married this Saturday out at the ranch. I’m their maid of honor. I could not stay sick.” She pointed to her foot, which sported a white dressing across the top. “I had to get well fast or they’d have disowned me for not showing up for their weddings.”
“You look terrific,” Jim murmured. “Like nothing ever happened.”
She waved her hands and laughed. “That was thanks to you and homeopathy. When I got back to the ranch, I had Jessica bath the wound with tincture of Calendula three times a day.” She patted her injured foot. “It really speeded up the healing.”
“And that stuff you took? What did you call it? Arnica? What did it do for you?”
She was pleased he remembered the remedy. “Arnica reduces the swelling and trauma to injured soft tissue.”
He slid the last door shut, his inventory completed. “That’s a remedy we could sure use a lot of around here. We scrape so many people up off the highway that it would really help.”
Rachel watched as he climbed out of the ambulance. There was no wasted motion about Jim Cunningham. He was lithe, like the cougar he was named after. And she liked the sense of steadiness and calmness that emanated from him like a beacon. His Apache blood was obvious in the color of his skin, his dark, cut hair and high cheekbones. What she liked most were his wide, intelligent eyes and his mouth, which was usually crooked in a partial smile. Jim was such an opposite to the warring Cunningham clan he’d been born into. He was like his mother, who had been known for her calm, quiet demeanor. Rachel knew little more about her, except that she’d been always full of laughter, with a twinkle in her eye.
“We’re done here,” Jim said genially, holding out his hand to her. He told himself he was enjoying Rachel too much. He wondered if she was married, but he didn’t see a wedding ring on her left hand as he took it into his own. She stepped carefully out of the ambulance to the concrete floor beside him. “And I’m done with my shift.” He glanced at his watch. “Noon, exactly.” And then he took a huge risk. “If I recall, up at the Flag hospital I offered you lunch. I know a great little establishment called the Muse Restaurant. Best mocha lattes in town. How about it?” His heart pumped hard once, underscoring just how badly he wanted Rachel to say yes.
Jim saw her forest-green eyes sparkle with gold as he asked her the question. Did that mean yes or no? He hoped it meant yes and found himself holding his breath, waiting for her answer. As he studied her upturned face, he felt her undeniable warmth and compassion. There was a gentleness around her, a Zen-like quality that reminded him of a quiet pool of water—serene yet very deep and mysterious.
“Actually,” Rachel said with a laugh, “I came here to invite you to lunch. It was to be a surprise. A way of thanking you for saving my neck.”
A powerful sensation moved through Jim, catching him off guard. It was a delicious feeling.
“That’s a great idea,” he murmured, meaning it. “But I asked first, so you’re my guest for lunch. Come on, we’ll take my truck. It’s parked just outside. I’ll bring you back here afterward.”
Rachel couldn’t resist smiling. He looked boyish as the seriousness in his face, the wrinkle in his brow disappeared in that magical moment. Happiness filled her, making her feel as if she were walking on air. Once again Jim cupped his hand on her elbow to guide her out of the station. She liked the fact that he matched his stride to hers. Normally she was a fast walker, but the injury to her foot had slowed her down.
Jim’s truck was a white Dodge Ram with a shiny chrome bumper. It was a big, powerful truck, and there was plenty of Arizona—red mud which stuck to everything—on the lower half of it, probably from driving down the three-mile dirt road to the Cunningham ranch. He opened the door for her and she carefully climbed in.
Rachel was impressed with how clean and neat the interior was, unlike many men’s pickups. As she hooked the seat belt, she imagined the orderliness came from him working in the medical field and understanding the necessity of cleanliness. She watched as Jim climbed in, his face wonderfully free of tension. He ran his fingers through his short, dark hair and then strapped himself in.
“Have you thought about the repercussions of being seen out in public with me?” he drawled as he slipped the key into the ignition. The pickup purred to life, the engine making a deep growling sound.
Wrinkling her nose, Rachel said, “You mean the gossip that will spread because a Cunningham and a Donovan broke bread together?”
Grinning, he nodded and eased the truck out of the parking spot next to the redbrick building. “Exactly.”
“I was over at Fay Seward’s, the saddle maker’s, yesterday, and she was telling me all kinds of gossip she’d heard about us.”
Moving out into the traffic, slow moving b
ecause of the recent snow, Jim chuckled. “I’ll bet.”
Rachel looked out the window. The temperature was in the low thirties, the sky bright blue and filled with nonstop sunlight. She put her dark glasses on and simply enjoyed being near Jim as he drove from the tourist area of Sedona into what was known as West Sedona. “I really missed this place,” she whispered.
The crimson rocks of Sedona created some of the most spectacular scenery he’d ever seen. Red sandstone and white limestone alike were capped with a foot of new, sparkling snow from the storm several days before. With the dark green mantle of forest across the top of the Rim, which rose abruptly to tower several thousand feet above Sedona, this was a place for an artist and photographer, he mused.
Glancing over at her, he asked, “Why did you stay away so long?”
Shrugging, Rachel met his inquiring gaze. “Isn’t it obvious? Or is it only to me?”
Gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly, he became serious. “We both left when we were kids. Probably for similar reasons. I went into the forest service and became a firefighter. Where did you go? I heard you moved overseas?”
Pain moved through Rachel. She saw an equal amount in Jim’s eyes. It surprised her in one way, because the men she had known never allowed much emotion to show. “I moved to England,” she said.
“And Jessica went to Canada and Kate became a tumbleweed here in the States.”
“Yes.”
Jim could feel her vulnerability over the issue. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so personal.” He had no right, but Rachel just seemed to allow him to be himself, and it was much too easy to become intimate with her. Maybe it was because she was in the medical field; she had a doctor’s compassion, but more so.
With a wave of her hand, she murmured, “No harm done. I knew when I moved home to try and help save our ranch that there were a lot of buried wounds that needed to be aired and cleaned out and dressed.”
“I like your analogy. Yeah, we all have old wounds, don’t we?” He pulled into a shopping center with a huge fountain that had been shut off for the winter. Pointing up the walk, he said, “The Muse—a literary café. All the writers and would-be writers come here and hang out. Since you’re so intelligent, I thought you might enjoy being with your own kind.”
Smiling, Rachel released the seat belt. “How did you know I’m writing a book?”
Jim opened his door. “Are you?”
With a laugh, she said, “Yes, I am.” Before she could open her own door, Jim was there to do it. He offered his hand and she willingly took it because the distance to the ground was great and she had no desire to put extra stress on the stitches still in her foot.
“Thank you,” she said huskily. How close he was! How very male he was. Rachel found herself wanting to sway those few inches and lean against his tall, strong frame. Jim’s shoulders were broad, proudly thrown back. His bearing was dignified and filled with incredible self-confidence.
Unwilling to release her, Jim guided Rachel up the wet concrete steps. “So what are you writing on?” The slight breeze lifted strands of her dark hair from her shoulders, reminding him how thick and silky it was. His fingers itched to thread through those strands once again.
“A book on homeopathy and first aid. I’m almost finished. I already have a publisher for it, here in the States. It will be simultaneously published by an En–glish firm, too.”
He opened the door to the restaurant for her. “How about that? I know a famous person.”
With a shake of her head, Rachel entered the warm restaurant, which smelled of baking bread. Inhaling the delicious scent, she waited for Jim to catch up with her. “Mmm, homemade bread. Doesn’t it smell wonderful?”
He nodded. “Jamie and his partner, Adrian, make everything fresh here on the premises. No canned anything.” He guided her around the corner to a table near the window. Each table, covered in white linen, was decorated with fresh, colorful flowers in a vase. The music was soft and New Age. In each corner stood towering green plants. Jim liked the place because it was alive with plants and flowers.
Rachel relinquished her coat to Jim. He placed it on one of several hooks in the corner. The place was packed with noontime clientele. In winter and spring, Sedona was busy with tourists from around the world who wanted to escape harsh winters at home. The snowfall earlier in the week was rare. Sedona got snow perhaps two to four times each winter. And usually, within a day or two, it had melted and been replaced with forty-degree weather in the daytime, thirty-degree temperatures at night.
Sitting down, Jim recognized some of the locals. He saw them watching with undisguised interest. The looks on their face said it all: a Cunningham and Donovan sitting together—peacefully—what a miracle! Frowning, Jim picked up the menu and then looked over at Rachel, who was studying hers.
“They’ve got great food here. Anything you pick will be good.”
Rachel tried to pay attention to the menu. She liked the fact that Jim sat at her elbow and not across from her. It was so easy to like him, to want to get to know him better. She had a million questions to ask him, but knew she had to remain circumspect.
After ordering their lunch, and having steaming bowls of fragrant mocha latte placed in front of them, Rachel began to relax. The atmosphere of the Muse was low-key. Even though there wasn’t an empty table, the noise level was low, and she appreciated that. Setting the huge bowl of latte down after taking a sip, she pressed the pink linen napkin briefly to her lips. Settling the napkin back in her lap, she met and held Jim’s warm, interested gaze. He wasn’t model handsome. His face had lines in it, marks of character from the thirty-some years of his life. His thick, dark brows moved up a bit in inquiry as she studied him.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he teased. “I’ll bet you’re remembering this acne-covered teenager from junior high school, aren’t you?”
She folded her hands in front of her. “No, not really. I do remember you being terribly shy, though.”
“So were you,” he said, sipping his own latte. Jim liked the flush that suddenly covered her cheeks. There was such painfully obvious vulnerability to Rachel. How had she been able to keep it? Life usually had a way of knocking the stuffing out of most people, and everyone he knew hid behind a protective mask or wall as a result. Rachel didn’t, he sensed. Maybe that was a testament to her obvious confidence.
“I was a wallflower,” Rachel conceded with a nervous laugh. “Although I did attend several clubs after school.”
“Drama and photography, if my memory serves me.”
Her brows rose. “That’s right! Boy, what a memory you have.” She was flabbergasted that Jim would remember such a thing. If he remembered that, what else did he recall? And why would he retain such insignificant details of her life, anyway? Her heart beat a little harder for a moment.
With a shy shrug, Jim sipped more of his latte. “If the truth be told, I had a terrible crush on you back then. But you didn’t know it. I was too shy to say anything, much less look you in the eyes.” He chuckled over the memory.
Gawking, Rachel tried to recover. “A crush? On me?”
“Ridiculous, huh?”
She saw the pain in his eyes and realized he was waiting for her to make fun of him for such an admittance. Rachel would never do that to anyone. Especially Jim.
“No!” she whispered, touched. “I didn’t know … ?.”
“Are you sorry you didn’t know?” Damn, why had he asked that? His stomach clenched. Why was it so important that Rachel like him as much as he had always liked her? His hands tightened momentarily around his bowl of latte.
“Never mind,” he said, trying to tease her, “you don’t have to answer that on the grounds it may incriminate you—or embarrass me.”
Rachel felt his tension and saw the worry in his eyes. A scene flashed inside her head of a little boy cowering, as if waiting to get struck. Sliding her fingers around her warm bowl of latte, she said, “I wish I had known, Ji
m. That’s a beautiful compliment. Thank you.”
Unable to look at her, he nervously took a couple of sips of his own. Wiping his mouth with the napkin, he muttered, “The past is the past.”
Rachel smiled gently. “Our past follows us like a good friend. I’m sure you know that by now.” Looking around, she saw several people staring openly at them with undisguised interest. “Like right now,” she mused, “I see several locals watching us like bugs under a microscope.” She met and held his gaze. Her lips curved in a grin. “Tell me our pasts aren’t present!”
Glancing around, Jim realized Rachel was right. “Well, by tonight your name will be tarnished but good.”
“What? Because I’m having lunch with the man who saved my life? I’d say that I’m in the best company in the world, with no apology. Wouldn’t you?”
He felt heat in his neck and then in his face. Jim couldn’t recall the last time he’d blushed. Rachel’s gently spoken words echoed through him like a bell being rung on a very clear day. It was as if she’d reached out and touched him. Her ability to share her feelings openly was affecting him deeply. Taking in a deep breath, he held her warm green gaze, which suddenly glimmered with tears. Tears! The soft parting of her lips was his undoing. Embarrassed, he reached into his back pocket and produced a clean handkerchief.
“Here,” he said gruffly, and placed it in her hand.
Dabbing her eyes, Rachel sniffed. “Don’t belittle what you did for me, Jim. I sure won’t.” She handed it back to him. He could barely meet her eyes, obviously embarrassed by her show of tears and gratitude. “You and I are in the same business in one way,” she continued. “We work with sick and injured people. The only difference is your EMT work is immediate, mine is more long-term and certainly not as dramatic.”
He refolded the handkerchief and stuffed it back into his rear pocket. “I’m not trying to make little of what we did out there for you, Rachel. It wasn’t just me that saved your life. My partner, Larry, and four other firefighters were all working as a team to save you.”
Tough Enough Page 23
