by Cate Beauman
“Where?”
“To a month ago when everything was different.” She tugged on a sweatshirt in defense against the chill in the room. “Let’s just leave things exactly the way we left them.”
“Which was?”
“We were friends who happened to share a few good nights in bed.”
“Reagan—”
She held up a halting hand. “I don’t want to hear about connections and intimacy. I really don’t.”
He freed himself from the covers and got to his feet. “We had both.”
She shook her head adamantly, thinking of the woman calling Shane’s name when they’d spoken on the phone. “No. What you had was a convenient scratching post for the last few days you were here.” She pulled her hair back in an aggressive ponytail.
He stared at her with such blatant shock in his eyes that she had to turn away. “What the hell, Reagan? What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem. You left. You moved on with your life. I’m trying to deal with mine.” She took socks from her drawer and stuffed her feet into soft cotton.
“I’m not going to let you sit here and blow off what we had—have.”
“Had. If there was anything there at all.” She reached for her sneaker, and he yanked it away.
“Damn it. What’s this about?”
“Our different perceptions of ‘buddies.’”
He frowned, shaking his head. “Buddies?”
“Oh, just get out.” She pushed him back, walking him toward the door.
He stopped dead.
She crashed into him, and he grabbed hold of her wrists.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re talking about.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Why wouldn’t he let this go? Didn’t he realize this was pointless?
“The last time we spoke I was out with—is this about Amber?”
She tried to pull free of his hold. “It’s not about anything at all.”
“Amber’s my friend.”
She lifted her brows.
“Okay, for the sake of full disclosure, maybe we kissed once, and maybe we were going to try for a real date, but that’s not what I want.”
His confession was a stab to her heart. “Because you came back here?”
“No, because I don’t want Amber. I want you.”
She refused to believe it. “You know what, Shane? I think you should go home and go for it with your ‘buddy.’” She yanked away from him. “Like I said before, we had sex. Since we’re being so honest, I won’t deny that maybe there was something there, but I’ll get over it. Kind of like you did. Now go away.” She turned from him, blinking rapidly as her lips trembled.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He stepped around, facing her. “I kissed Amber and thought about you the whole time.”
“Stop. God. Is that supposed to help?” she laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. “You’re making this worse. Let’s just put a pause on the whole honesty thing and move on.”
“Dammit.” He yanked her against him. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to kiss her again. She didn’t taste like you or smell like you or make that little noise in her throat that drives me fucking crazy.” He stepped back, smacking into the desk.
Reagan winced as the small stack of bills and slim white slips fell to the floor.
He bent down, frowning as he picked one up, then another and another. “What is this?”
“Nothing.” She moved to snatch them away.
He lifted his arm above her reach, holding her gaze. “What are these, Reagan?”
Sighing, she stared down at the floor.
“Reagan.” He cupped her face in his hands, the way he used to, forcing her to look at him.
Swallowing, she closed her eyes, gathering what little defense she had left against him.
“Talk to me.” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs as his voice gentled. “Please. What’s going on?”
“I think those are pieces of Doctor Schlibenburg’s article.”
He stepped away, rubbing at the back of his neck. “When were you planning on mentioning it?”
“I wasn’t. I don’t have the full article yet, so there’s no point. The strips just started showing up in the mail.”
“When?”
“The day after you left.”
His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw. “Chase should’ve known about this.”
“I disagree.” She crouched down, picking up the rest of the mess.
“Reagan, we can’t help you without open communication.”
She scoffed as she gained her feet. “You can’t help me anyway.”
“Our job—”
“Is to report issues to your boss, who then reports them to mine. I tried to make a difference in this community, but no one’s interested. Doctor Schlibenburg’s notes and black lung are the least of my worries right now. My only goal has been buying Jenny and Faith as much time as possible. Next week you and Chase leave, but the girls and I don’t. If keeping my mouth shut kept one of you here in The Gap to ensure their safety, that was all that mattered.”
“Reagan, I’m not leaving you here.”
She couldn’t allow herself to believe him. “Until Ethan calls you back to California?”
“Not even then.”
She shook her head.
“I’m here until this is over.”
“Okay,” she relented, ready to drop the entire subject.
“I want you to let me back in.” He took her hand, pressing her palm to his cheek. “I want you to tell me about your troubles the way you used to not all that long ago.”
She swallowed. “Things aren’t the way they used to be. I don’t want to depend on you the way I did before. I’ve been handling everything just fine on my own.”
“Reagan—”
“We should talk about this later. Now that you’re here I want to get Jenny back into the clinic so she can practice.” She opened her door and walked down the hall, ready for a quick breakfast and to get out of here.
~~~~
“Damn it.” He jammed his hands through his hair as Reagan left him staring after her. What the hell had happened between them? He’d only been gone four weeks, but it might as well have been a year. He’d expected the initial awkwardness of yesterday while they reacclimated to living under the same roof again, but after she broke down in his arms last night, he foolishly thought they would wake up, talk everything through, and pick up where they left off—or close to it.
Clearly Reagan rebuilt the defenses it had taken him weeks to knock down. She didn’t trust that he had any real intentions of sticking around, nor did she believe he thought the connection they’d shared had been anything special. And bringing up Amber had only made it worse.
Shaking his head, he pounded the side of his fist against the top of the desk. “You’re a fucking idiot, Harper.” He didn’t want Amber. He didn’t love his former co-worker. But the woman who’d just told him to go to hell… He wanted and loved her desperately. Now he just needed the opportunity to show her.
He snagged his shirt from the corner of the bed, tempted to follow her down the hall and demand they straighten this whole thing out, but that would do more harm than good. Reagan was going to need time. He pulled the covers back on her bed, reminding himself that they started off on rocky ground when they first met and they’d been fine—more than fine.
Eventually she would realize he meant what he said. Sooner or later she would confide in him and tell him about the little girl in New York and Henry. She could shrug off what they had all she wanted, but deep down he knew as well as she did that they were far from finished. If worse came to worse, he would wear her down the way he had before, but first he needed to talk to Chase about Doctor Schlibenburg’s mysterious article and figure out what they planned to do next.
Chapter Thirty-five
Reagan spread Dijon mustard on another piece of rye bread and set it on to
p of several thin slices of deli-cut ham, completing her sandwich. She grabbed a peach from the fruit bowl and made her way to the table as she looked toward the loft, listening to the quiet back and forth of Shane and Chase’s deep voices.
They’d gone upstairs minutes after she and Jenny came home from their lesson at the clinic. Shane had handed off a sleepy baby to her mom, and he and his pal had disappeared. She glanced at her watch, fairly certain she had enough time to finish her lunch and be gone before Shane came downstairs…not that she was still purposely avoiding him like last night. Or maybe she was.
She huffed out a long breath, the admission to herself slightly lowering, but she needed time. If spending her days and nights hiding from Shane gave her the opportunity to gain a little perspective over her ever-changing situation, then she would do what needed to be done.
Yesterday he’d walked through the courthouse doors and turned her world upside down, again. This morning he’d shaken her up even further with his promises to stay and his declarations that she was the only one he wanted—promises and declarations she couldn’t let herself believe. Shane left. For a month they’d gone their separate ways, and he found someone else. He assured her he didn’t want Amber, but he didn’t get to just come and go. He didn’t get to kiss other women and decide which one suited him best. As far as she was concerned, she and Shane were through. Now if she could only convince her heart to be as practical as her brain.
She looked to the loft again, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth when he laughed. She’d missed that sound; she’d missed everything about him. Never had she met a man who felt so right for her, but he wasn’t.
Determined to move on and do what was best for herself and her girls, she took a huge bite of her sandwich, with every intention of gaining back the few pounds she’d lost. Over the past weeks she’d let herself fall apart. The stress had gotten to be too much, but from this moment forward she was taking charge. She didn’t need Super Shane to swoop in and come to her rescue. She took care of herself—she always had. And that wasn’t about to change now. Pheromones and chemicals. That’s what she and Shane had had between, and now it was finished.
She picked up the short reflective essay Jenny had written, something Reagan required after any practical experience in the clinic and began to read, getting lost in the thoughts of an exceptionally bright seventeen-year-old who’d had her first opportunity to practice needle sticks on an orange.
…performing a venipuncture on the orange was scary and exciting all at the same time. Although I had an amazing opportunity to try something new, I think I’m glad I’ll be practicing on fruit for a long time to come.
Reagan chuckled as she polished off the remainder of her sandwich. She read the last couple of sentences again, grinning and shaking her head, and took a bite of her peach.
“It’s nice to see a smile on your face.” Shane walked over from the last step, resting his butt against the edge of the table, and crossed his arms at his chest.
Her smile vanished, and she cursed herself for losing track of time as she stared into gorgeous green eyes. Ignoring the uptick to her pulse and quick rush of tingles in her stomach, she stood, taking her plate to the sink.
He followed her. “How did Jenny’s lesson go?”
“Fine.” She turned, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ear, realizing he was standing too close.
“She said something about an orange.”
“Yeah.” She licked her lips, backing up into the counter. “She practiced a venipuncture today—a blood draw.”
He winced. “Thank God I didn’t have to be your reluctant patient this time.”
She smiled sadly, remembering a time when things had been different between them.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “What did you have for lunch?”
“Oh, um, a ham sandwich and a peach.”
He nodded. “I like seeing you eating. It looks like you lost some weight.”
“Just a pound or two.” She tossed her napkin in the trash. “I actually need to finish—”
He took her hand, still holding the piece of fruit, pulling them toe-to-toe.
“Shane.” She pressed her palm to his shirt.
“I’m hoping one of these times when we make eye contact you won’t look at me like I’m public enemy number one.” He lifted her hand, biting into the peach, catching the drips of juice with one, two, three open-mouthed suckles along the sensitive skin of her wrist before the drops could roll further down her forearm. “Sweet.”
“Shane,” she shuddered out, her resolve to keep her distance crumbling.
“I want your eyes to light up when you smile at me. I want you to trust me.”
“I do trust you. I’m counting on you and Chase to keep the girls safe.”
He shook his head. “You know that’s not what I mean.” Someone knocked on the front door. “Stay here.” He walked to the door, opening it slightly. “Can I help you?”
“Good afternoon, I’m Detective Reedy—”
“Detective.” Reagan tossed the remains of the peach in the trash and rushed to Shane’s side. “Please come in.”
Shane opened the door wider.
“Thank you,” the man said, his voice nasally.
“Detective, this is Shane Harper. He’s part of The Appalachia Project’s security.”
“I’d shake your hand, but I think I’m well on my way to a cold.” He sneezed into his elbow.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?” Reagan offered. “Maybe some tea?”
“No, thank you.” He sneezed for the second time. “Doctor Rosner, I came by to ask for your help again.”
“Sure. Please come have a seat.”
Detective Reedy started coughing.
“You know what? I’m going to get you a glass of water anyway. Staying hydrated is one of the keys to fighting a cold. Give me just a minute.” She walked to the kitchen with Shane following behind.
“Is this the guy who was here before?”
She nodded as she filled a glass.
“Did you mention anything to him about your mail?”
“No.” She looked at him as she shut off the faucet, studying his kind eyes and tough, sexy build in jeans and a casual long-sleeved tee, wishing desperately everything was the way it used to be. “And I’m not planning on it at this time.”
“Doc, you’re withholding potential evidence.”
“I know.” And she hated it but her situation had yet to change. The girls’ futures were still in question at this point whether Shane was here for the moment or not, and so far everyone associated with the mine was corrupt. What if she handed off Doctor Schlibenburg’s strips of paper and they “mysteriously” disappeared? And wouldn’t the police start intercepting her incoming mail? She needed to wait until she had the whole article. Doctor Schlibenburg had had something to say. He’d died for whatever it was.
“I think—”
“How do I know you’re not leaving?” she blurted out, still unconvinced by his earlier assurances that he was here until the end.
He blinked. “What?”
“How do I know you’re not going to leave me and the girls here in The Gap the next time your phone rings?”
“Because I said I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
She held his gaze.
“I never should’ve left in the first place. I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated as he took her hand. “I’m not.”
She nodded, trying to pull away.
He held her hand tighter. “I might’ve made a couple of mistakes over the last few weeks, but I’ve never given you a reason not to trust what I say.”
He was right. They had their personal problems, but he was still a good man. No matter what happened between them he still loved Jenny and Faith. “No, you haven’t.” She pulled free of him and walked out to their guest. “Here you go, Detective.”
“Thank you.” He sipped th
e water, clearing his throat.
She sat on the couch with Shane taking the cushion at her side. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Doctor Rosner, I went back to Doctor Schlibenburg’s home after we spoke on the phone, and I just can’t seem to find the x-rays you left behind. Doctor Schlibenburg’s house is spotless, so I’m surprised I can’t locate them.” The detective set a schematic on the coffee table. “This is the layout of Doctor Schlibenburg’s first floor.”
Reagan studied the various rooms, recognizing a couple of them.
“I’m wondering if you could go back through your visit with him again.”
“Sure. Doctor Schlibenburg met me outside here.” She pointed to the circular drive. “We went in through the front door and immediately to his living room after he secured the three locks. I sat on this couch and the doctor here by the lamp where he held the films up to the light. He gave me his opinion on each film as I handed them over.”
“And you said he concurred with your diagnosis of—” He flipped through his notes, “progressive massive fibrosis.”
“Yes. He concluded that all of the patients had varying degrees of the disease.” She gave her attention back to the diagram. “The clock right here on the mantle signaled that my hour was up, and that’s when he shoved me out the door.”
“You said you asked him about an article and he got upset.”
“Yes.” She looked at Shane. “I was still sitting on the couch when I pushed him a bit about helping me further. That’s when I asked him if I could have a copy of his work, and he got upset. I gathered my things, leaving the x-rays in the box right here on the coffee table. He dragged me toward the front entrance.” She traced the path she’d taken with her finger.
“And you left the box there?”
She nodded. “I’m positive. I have a box just like it in the clinic if you want to see what I’m referencing.”
“That would be great.”
She stood, grabbing the sweater she’d worn back from the clinic off the couch, and she, Shane, and the detective made their way down the path to the office.
