"You're welcome to stay here," he offered. "Freddie and the Flounders should be dropping by soon to rehearse for tomorrow's picnic. Their wives won't let them practice at their houses, so they use mine. A little music might liven up your afternoon."
"My afternoon's been livened up quite enough already, thank you." She didn't want to be caught at Jack's house by anyone, or rumors would surely fly. "No offense to Freddie or his Flounders, but I'd rather not stay."
"That leaves you with one option. My Harley."
"Your Harley!"
"I wouldn't particularly recommend it. It's pretty big. Might be hard for you to handle, especially in the rain." He paused and gave the matter another thought.
"Then again, you would make for an interesting sight." His gaze meandered down to the slim skirt he'd pushed up her thighs only moments ago.
Her pulse quickened. "Of course I can't take your Harley."
He shrugged, reached into the closet and drew out an umbrella. Only the slightest of smiles lit his golden-brown eyes. "Then it looks like you're coming with me."
* * *
5
« ^ »
If she had known where Mrs. Sanchez now lived, Callie would have walked the four or five miles to the inn through the rain in her high heels rather than accompany Jack on his emergency call.
Too late, she realized the call would take them to the neighborhood where she'd grown up. He turned his sports car down the narrow, asphalt road where a tidy row of homes edged the bayside canal. The yellow cinder-block house in the middle of the row had been the Colonel's house.
When her mother had been alive, she'd thought of it as home, although the Colonel's strict rules and critical eye had always prevented her from feeling truly at ease there.
She stiffened in the luxurious leather seat of Jack's expensive car as they slowly drove through her old neighborhood. She hadn't ventured anywhere near the place in twelve years. Not that she hadn't been tempted, so many times, to choke down her pride and pay her stern, autocratic father a visit.
It was too late now, of course. The Colonel had passed away last year.
"I'd forgotten we'd be in your old neighborhood," Jack remarked. "Mrs. Sanchez lives about four doors down from the Colonel's old place."
Callie didn't reply as they drove by her childhood home.
"A couple with three kids live there now."
She found that somewhat comforting. At least the place had life now. The presence of a trampoline, a tricycle and a football in the front yard testified to the change. The Colonel had never allowed any playthings to clutter his neat front lawn.
Jack sent her a searching glance. "Did you ever mend your rift with him?"
Unexpected tightness swelled around her vocal chords, making it difficult to answer. "A few months after I left, I called him. He accepted my apology for, uh, insubordination."
Jack smiled a little at that. "Then why didn't you visit?"
"I wasn't invited." She tried to keep her tone light but didn't quite succeed. "He dropped by to see Meg and me a couple of times in Tallahassee. Or rather, to inspect our quarters." She forced a rueful smile. "But whenever we mentioned visiting him, he discouraged it. He always had other plans."
She looked away to hide the pain sifting through her. He really hadn't wanted her in his life. "Oh, don't think he neglected us. He offered to pay our bills and give us cash. But I, uh…" She didn't finish. No one needed to know that she'd refused his financial help. She'd wanted to force him into a choice, as he'd forced her: Give me a place in your heart, in your life, or cut the ties. He'd cut ties.
She felt Jack's gaze on her. "You heard about the fishing boat he bought, didn't you?" he asked. She shook her head, too unsure of her voice to speak. "A nice one," he recalled. "He had it for years, but when he moved overseas, he had to sell it."
Callie frowned, unsure of his point.
"He named it The Colonel's Callie."
She stared at him, incredulous. He'd named his boat after her? The idea shook her. Stunned her.
"He had a smaller bass boat that he'd named The Lady Meg." Jack pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked it. With a gruff, earnest softness, he said, "Some people are just afraid to love, Cal, or else they don't know how. It doesn't mean they don't feel it."
She looked sharply away from him. She couldn't think about the Colonel now—or the incredible news that he'd acknowledged her, in some small way, as a part of him. "It's history," she whispered. "Doesn't matter anymore."
"I believe it does."
"I don't want to talk about this, Jack, just like you don't want to talk about those scars on your face."
"I'd say that's an excellent comparison." His tone drew her gaze back to his. "Tierney pulled a gun on me while he was in a rage. I tried to take it away from him, and it went off." After a pause, he added, "Whenever you're ready to tell me about your scars, I'll be ready to listen."
Her scars. She supposed she did have a few. But now was not the time or place to discuss them.
Needing to change the subject, she gestured toward the A-frame home where they'd stopped. "Is this Mrs. Sanchez's?"
"Yeah."
"The ambulance hasn't arrived yet."
"We had a shorter distance to drive. It'll take the ambulance another thirty minutes, coming from the hospital."
She understood then why folks on Moccasin Point would call Jack instead of the paramedics in an emergency. In certain situations, the ambulance would arrive too late.
"Should I wait in the car?" she asked.
"You can, but I wish you'd come in." He reached behind the seat and brought out a black leather doctor's bag. "Never know where you might be needed."
An odd little pang of gratification warmed her at the thought that she might be needed. Bemused by her unusually sensitive emotional state, Callie followed Jack across the yard. In Tallahassee, she'd acquired a reputation for cool reserve. Her associates and employees often kidded her about it. She'd been feeling anything but "cool" or "reserved" lately.
A petite brunette in her late thirties rushed out of the house to meet Jack. Gloria. As a vivacious teenager, she'd been Callie and Meg's favorite baby-sitter. Though a little rounder and considerably older, she looked basically the same.
"Oh, Doc, I'm so glad you're here." Her dark eyes were red-rimmed, her face splotchy. "I didn't know Mama was on the stairs. I heard this terrible thump-thump, and she called out for me." Her face crumpled. "She's l-lying there in so much p-pain." She covered her eyes with her hand and wept.
Two little girls hovering in the doorway chimed in with noisy sobs. From somewhere inside, a baby wailed.
Jack's arm went around Gloria as he escorted her into the house, his golden head tipping close to hers.
"Calm yourself, Glo. You're scaring the kids, and probably your mother, too."
With a dismayed exclamation, she halted her crying, glanced at her teary-faced toddlers and veered toward them. Jack strode through the small living room to the foot of the stairs. Callie stopped a discreet distance behind him, feeling awkward and intrusive, although no one had given her so much as a glance.
Jack knelt beside the thin woman in a faded house-dress who lay at an awkward angle on her side. Though valiantly silent, she breathed in shallow gasps, her forehead beaded with sweat. Her dark, pain-glazed eyes locked with his.
"Rosa, Rosa, didn't I tell you not to cha-cha down those stairs?" His tone, his smile, conveyed a calm friendliness that somehow eased Callie's tension and won a weak, pained smile from his patient. His hands, meanwhile, moved over her frail-looking body in a steady, methodical manner. "Where does it hurt?"
She murmured a reply. He asked more questions, held her hand and bent closer to examine her more thoroughly.
A telephone rang. The baby cried from a back room. Gloria herded the girls and an older boy into the kitchen.
Callie ventured into a bedroom, toward the sound of the baby's crying. She found a burly little boy
standing in forlorn solitude, his dimpled fists gripping the rail of the crib, his chubby cheeks slick with tears. She smiled and murmured a friendly greeting. He reached for her. Absurdly pleased, she swung him into her arms, and his sobs subsided.
He cuddled against her with sweet, trusting innocence. She thought of Meg's two children at his age, which had been eight and nine years ago. She'd been too immersed in building her business to spend much time with them.
She couldn't afford to regret that. Her business generated enough income to build a solid future for herself, to insure her independence. Nothing could be as important. But as she held the soft, powder-scented baby and pressed her cheek against his head, she wished she'd spent more time with her niece and nephew.
An ambulance siren grew steadily louder until it screamed to a halt outside. Callie stepped into the hallway and peered into the living room, which now teamed with uniformed men. Jack remained at Rosa's side and spoke with the emergency team.
Gloria skirted around the hubbub of activity and bustled toward Callie. "Callie? Callie Marshall? Is that you?"
She'd wondered if Gloria would recognize her.
They barely had time to exchange more than a few pleasant exclamations before Gloria's grandson tugged at her denim skirt and threatened to throw up. She hurried him into the bathroom and the other toddler ran along to watch.
Stimulated by the activity, the baby in Callie's arms squirmed, arched and squealed to be let down. She struggled to maintain a firm hold. She soon realized with dismay that he needed a dry diaper. It wasn't easy, carrying the zestful one-year-old to his nursery, finding a fresh diaper and wrestling him down onto the changing table to do the deed. With a cloth diaper, no less.
As she fought to keep a grip on the playful baby, fold the diaper and pin it on him properly, a pair of large, sun-bronzed hands reached around her, held the baby's hips neatly down and slid the pin into perfect position.
Hedged in by masculine arms and a muscular chest, Callie craned her neck to look up into Jack's smiling brown eyes. "I could have done it myself, you know," she said.
"Sure you could have." He placed a bright yellow teething ring into the baby's chubby hands, which drew a squeal of delight and thoroughly distracted him from his escape attempts.
Callie lifted the contented baby into her arms and sidestepped Jack to cut him a wry glance. "You can wipe that smirk off your face now."
"What smirk?"
"The one that says—"
"He's drooling on your shoulder."
"That's not what I was going to—oh!" She drew back and examined a wet stain that had spread across her beige suit. She laughed and hugged the baby closer. "I've already given up on this suit for today, anyway."
Jack studied her with something like surprise, then pivoted to gaze at the baby's face. "I've been trying to get this woman to laugh for two days now, Bud. You've done it in less than an hour. I'll have to remember the drooling trick."
Callie laughed again, feeling somewhat protected from Jack's winsome charm. He couldn't possibly entice her into an unwise kiss or embrace while she clung to the baby. "I'm not sure if you could pull it off with the same effect."
"Uh-oh, bud." Jack continued to eye the baby. "Now you're biting her shoulder. Moving in on my territory."
A ridiculous warmth flooded her, and before she could rebuke him for saying nonsensical things that could give others a wrong impression, Jack had shifted to meet her gaze with a smile so warm she couldn't speak. She realized then that nothing could protect her from his devastating charm.
"Will she be okay, Doc?" Gloria's anxious voice from the bedroom doorway startled Callie. "Is Mama's hip broken?"
"Looks more like she's dislocated it. But I want to run tests at the hospital to be sure. They're putting her in the ambulance now. I'm going to ride along with her."
Callie glanced at him in surprise. She hadn't expected that. She was glad, though. Mrs. Sanchez had seemed comforted by his presence.
"I'm glad you'll be there, Doc," Gloria said. "I can't go to the hospital with Mama until my husband gets home from work."
Callie followed Jack with the baby in her arms as he walked with Gloria, answering her questions and uttering reassurances. When they reached the front yard, Gloria took the baby from Callie and profusely thanked her and Jack.
"I hope I didn't ruin any plans you had for today." Her earnest gaze shifted from Jack to Callie.
"Oh, we didn't have plans," Callie hurriedly assured her. "I mean, I didn't. Except business. Just business. That's the only reason I'm here. With Jack, I mean. We're not … he's not—"
Jack smoothly interrupted, "I'm glad you called me, Gloria. I have to be at the hospital this afternoon, anyway. I'll be admitting your mother for at least a couple days."
Gloria thanked him again and headed for the ambulance, where the paramedics were lifting her mother on a stretcher.
"Take my car, Callie," Jack said. "I won't need it. I have a knee replacement at two o'clock, ankle surgery at five, a cast to remove and rounds to make. I'll catch a ride home from the hospital and pull your car out of the mud when I get off work this evening."
"You don't have to do that." For some odd reason, the seriousness of his work had only recently hit her—seeing him tending to Mrs. Sanchez, hearing the surgeries he'd be performing. He'd somehow transformed from the infuriating tease she'd always known into a bonafide doctor. She suddenly felt awkward, expecting him to tow her car from the mud after a day of saving lives and limbs. "I'll find someone else," she insisted.
"I'll do it. Tonight." He turned her toward his car and urged her forward. "I'm not sure what time, but I'll bring your car to the inn, and we'll switch vehicles."
"No, I'll call Bobby Ray Tucker. Maybe he can drop by your house, get the tow truck and pull my car out of the mud."
"He and his family are leaving town today for the long weekend. That's why he let me have the tow truck." They'd reached his car. He opened the driver's door for her and handed her his key. "Give me your key. I'll haul your car out of the mud, tow it to my house, leave the truck there and drive your car to the inn."
Despite her misgivings, she really had no choice but to take him up on his offer. Hesitantly she gave him her key, then slid behind the wheel of his car. "I hate for you to go through all this trouble. I mean, I know you brought it on yourself by borrowing the tow truck before I had the chance to call Bobby Ray—" she shot him an admonishing glance "—but you'd planned to use it this morning, and now you'll have to wait until after a shift at the hospital. You'll be tired, and maybe it'll be dark by then."
"I'll charge you for my trouble." Instead of shutting the car door, he rested his arm on the roof and smiled down at her.
"Charge me what?"
"A modest fee."
"Hey, Doc," yelled a paramedic from the ambulance. "We'll be ready to go in a few minutes."
"Thanks. I'll be right there." He glanced at Callie with an unsettling warmth in his gaze. "I'll charge you two kisses."
"What?"
He leaned in and lightly kissed her mouth. "See you tonight," he whispered.
Before she could shake off the surprised daze enough to protest, he shut the door and strode toward the ambulance. Halfway up the driveway, he looked back at her. "That leaves an unpaid balance of one," he called.
She hit the button to lower the passenger window and tell him to forget it, but he'd disappeared into the back of the ambulance before she had the chance.
As the ambulance pulled out of the driveway and sped away, Callie realized that Gloria stood on the lawn, holding the baby and curiously watching her. "Are you dating Doc?"
"No! Absolutely not."
A merry sparkle lit her coal-black eyes. "He's never charged me a fee like that."
Callie's face grew warm. "He was being deliberately impertinent. You know what an incorrigible flirt he is."
"That's true," she agreed with a laugh.
Callie didn't think it was parti
cularly funny. Feeling disgruntled for no good reason, she shoved the key into the ignition, then cast another glance at Gloria through the open passenger window. "I think you should know that I didn't come to the Point for social purposes. I'm investigating a lawsuit."
Gloria stepped closer, her face bright with curiosity. "Grant Tierney's lawsuit against Doc?"
Callie hadn't been sure the matter was common knowledge. She should have known better, in a community like Moccasin Point. "Actually, it's Agnes's lawsuit."
Gloria rolled her dark, expressive eyes. "Everyone knows it's Grant pushing to sue." She patted the baby on her shoulder and treated Callie to a friendly smile. "I'm glad you're investigating. Jack is too good a doctor to make a mistake like Grant is claiming. I hope you prove the claim is bogus."
Callie gazed at Gloria in dismay. She'd jumped to a very wrong conclusion—that Callie was working on Jack's behalf. "Gloria, I … I won't necessarily be trying to disprove the claim," she explained haltingly, hating to admit that she and her sister worked for the Tierneys. "I'm going to gather whatever evidence I can find, no matter whose side it proves or disproves."
"Of course. You've got to be objective. Any good investigator is, I'm sure. I'm just glad it's you investigating the case instead of someone in Grant Tierney's pocket."
Callie debated the wisdom of explaining anything more.
"Let me know if I can help you," Gloria offered. "I'm sure everyone on the Point will want to help Doc all they can."
"Thank you." As much as Callie wanted to question her, she balked at the idea of doing so under false pretenses. Gloria was, after all, a personal friend.
"I was there at the picnic where it happened, you know."
"Did you see Jack give Agnes the injection?"
"No. I didn't even know that he had. But I was snapping photos of everyone all day."
"Photos?"
"I always take photos. A hobby of mine. I don't know if any of them will help with your investigation, but you never know. Would you like to see them?"
Callie pulled the car key from the ignition. Photos had too much potential to pass up. "Please."
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