Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  Barbara Mandarino smiled. “What a mess.”

  Linc shook his head. “Go on and sit down. I’ll mop this up in a sec. I just want to check on Henry and see if he’s, okay.”

  He took the stairs gingerly, his loafers squeaking on the vinyl floor. “Henry?” he called out when he reached the narthex. “Are you here?” He checked the sanctuary. Dark, no Henry. Linc’s heartbeat skittered. The guy was old. Injured. Linc prayed nothing had happened to him. He headed down to the Sunday school classrooms. A door to one was ajar. Inside he found Henry.

  It was a ludicrous sight. The big man was stuffed into one of the little kids’ chairs reading a book. His knees hit the top of the table, and his arms dangled at his sides. Linc pushed open the door and said softly, “Henry, are you all right?”

  The janitor looked up. Nodded. Linc glanced at the book. “Did you find something that interests you there?”

  Nodding again. Linc crossed to him and stared down at the children’s Bible which was open to an illustration of Noah’s Ark. Now that was irony. The corners of Linc’s lips turned up. “Don’t you know the story of the flood, Henry?”

  He nodded.

  “Was the Bible just open to that page?”

  “Uh-huh.” Well, that was progress.

  “Did something interest you?”

  Henry lifted the Bible to Linc. Linc focused in closer. Cartoon drawings of Biblical characters were sketched in full color. On this particular page was the Ark. Right in the center Noah stared up at the sky. Linc smiled. “He looks just like you, doesn’t he, Henry?”

  Vigorously, Henry nodded.

  Linc laughed aloud. “Why don’t you stay here a minute and bask in your fame, old buddy.” He squeezed the man’s shoulder and headed back to the fellowship hall, rolling up his sleeves.

  When he got there, not a drop of water was on the floor. Everything was dry, and clean. Rags were stacked in a bucket, and two wet mops propped against the wall.

  Of course. The women. Light-footed, he walked to the back room. They were in a circle, chatting quietly. Anita noticed him first. “Hi, Rev.” Her sass reminded him of Margo.

  “You didn’t have to clean up after me, ladies.”

  They shrugged it off. They were used to cleaning up after men. The automaticity of their actions saddened him.

  “But I appreciate it.” He wondered how often they heard that. “Very much.” Taking a chair, he read the board, where he’d written the topics they’d brainstormed a few weeks ago. “Okay. Which of these shall we start out with?”

  Anita spoke again. “Loneliness.”

  Something Linc was on intimate terms with. “All right. Take the pads and pencils I left on the chairs.” He’d set up the room himself this time. “Let’s all write about what makes us feel lonely. Then we’ll share our experiences.”

  To a person, every woman’s face blanked. He drew in a deep breath. “Um, don’t put your names on them. I’ll collect them and read them aloud; they’ll be anonymous and we’ll talk about them in general terms.” Then he planned to elicit ways to curb loneliness. He was no divine magician, though, and he wasn’t sure he could pull that rabbit out of the hat for them—or for himself.

  He thought of Jane Meachum as he wrote, lack of companionship. He didn’t mean sex, although that was an issue, too. He wrote it down.

  It immediately conjured up images of Margo. Damn! He would not do this today. She’d made it clear she was staying away from him. It was for the best.

  Isn’t it? he asked God as the others wrote.

  You tell me.

  Come on, I need a little guidance, here.

  Okay, go to lunch with Jane. See what happens.

  Is Margo all right?

  All I can tell you is that I’m watching over her

  The thought comforted Linc and he turned back to his list.

  STARING out her window at the hustle and bustle of New York, Margo tapped the memo she held against the pane of glass. The missive had been on her desk that morning when she’d arrived at work. She’d been lulled into thinking things were back on track with Philip. The last two weeks had been business as usual. Which was why she’d been ambushed by this information.

  At the end of the week, he’d taken her to lunch; they’d had a relaxed meal at Izzy’s in Times Square. Even if he did have bad news. He’d ordered a martini, which was unusual, as he rarely drank during the day. Then he’d stared somberly out at the square.

  “What’s wrong, Philip?”

  He shook his head. He looked tired, and lines of wear creased his forehead and mouth. He’d been impeccably dressed in a navy pinstriped suit, but his usual calm demeanor was agitated. “Things aren’t good at home.”

  “No?”

  “Sally and I are talking seriously about separating.”

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. I’m worried about the girls.” He studied her. “I know I’ve been acting strange lately. That’s why.”

  She’d squeezed his hand. “Have you thought of counseling?”

  “Sally won’t go.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  “Me, too,” he said again. He shrugged. “Let’s not discuss this anymore. It’s too depressing. How’s everything with you?”

  “Good, why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I got the impression things were rough for your friends back home.”

  The emphasis on the word alerted her. “Things are rough for Beth. You know, I’ve talked about her. Her son’s in trouble again. It’s been hard on her.” She frowned as she nibbled on her quiche. “And Annie, my other friend?”

  He nodded, leaving his food untouched.

  “Her ex is back in town, claiming he’s a changed man. They’re both struggling.”

  “Did you go home again this weekend?”

  “No, I haven’t been home for several.”

  “I see. So you haven’t seen the minister?”

  “His name is Linc, but why would you ask that, anyway?”

  Philip shrugged. “Margo, you talk about him all the time. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d think you had a thing for him.”

  “Know me so well?”

  “Yeah. Religion’s your hot button. You grew up tormented by it.” He regarded her gray suit and light pink silk T-shirt. “Besides, you’re not exactly minister’s wife material.”

  She wasn’t sure why his remark offended her. It was certainly true.

  Philip gave her a very male grin. “I’m really more your type, sweetheart.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Serious now, he tilted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. “You know Margo, I could be a free man soon.”

  The statement stunned her. “Philip, please, I thought we put this behind us.”

  Taking her cue, he dropped his hand. “We did, I’m sorry. I’m just raw today…”

  She’d felt uncomfortable about the comment and had avoided him all week until she’d talked to him about her impending vacation.

  And now this.

  She read the memo again. “The Laufler’s factory automation program will be out-sourced to Spencer and Co.” An independent contractor. “Please meet with their reps on April 4, at 2 P.M., before your vacation. P.”

  Out-sourced. That usually happened when there was too much work for in-house engineers, so independent contractors were brought in to take up the slack. But Margo wasn’t overworked. She’d finished the designs on the Jamison account and planned to start Laufler’s when she returned from her week’s vacation.

  The vacation she’d offered not to take if there was a problem with the schedule….

  “No, go,” Philip had said. “You’ve been planning this trip to Cancun for ages.”

  She was about to tell him she’d canceled that trip to go to Glen Oaks and spend some time with Annie and to help Beth out with the diner now that some early racing events had started at the track. She’d halted, though, remembering his tone of voice when he’d as
ked about Linc. “It can be postponed,” she’d said evasively.

  He’d been distracted, and had simply said, “No, go….”

  Maybe she would go back to Glen Oaks Sunday after church was over. For the week.

  Not a good idea, Mary Margaret . All that time in proximity to Linc was playing with fire. But she did want to help Beth out, and Annie was a wreck over Joe’s presence in town.

  And…Linc was dating someone. Bethy told her.

  No, that had nothing to do with it. It was good that he was dating. She was even a PK. God, how ironic. The love of her life was dating a preacher’s kid. She probably played the organ, sang in the church choir and wore lace collars and pearl earrings.

  Forget about it. Go see Philip.

  Margo circled her desk and strode out of the office to the elevator, up three floors, then into his outer office. “Hi, Geraldine, is he in?”

  Geraldine’s kind blue eyes smiled at her from where she sat behind a computer. At fifty-five, she’d been with Philip since he’d come to CompuQuest. “Ah, no, he has a few days off.”

  “Really? I didn’t know he was taking vacation.”

  “He’s not. This was an emergency. It came up suddenly.”

  Margo held out the memo. “Do you know anything about this?”

  Geraldine read the paper. “Why, no. I didn’t even type that.”

  Hmm. What to do? “Do you know when he’ll be in the office?”

  “He said maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. He called in this morning, but didn’t give me any details.” The woman scowled and Margo thought about how she doted on Philip, like a son. And how Philip had held her hand all during her husband’s funeral. “He was fine last night when I left.”

  Fine enough to send Margo this memo. She couldn’t help wondering at the coincidence of the timing. Margo was going on vacation. He’d taken a product away from her. He wasn’t here to ask about it.

  And she’d refused his sexual come-on. Were they connected? “Margo, do you want me to call him?”

  “No, thanks, Gerry. I’ll deal with this when I get back.”

  “Have a great time in Cancun.”

  “Cancun?”

  “Your vacation.”

  “Oh, sure. Thanks.”

  Timing continued to plague her as she made her way back to the office. The all-male weekend. The confusion over the Jamison account. Philip’s separation from his wife. Was she just being overly suspicious?

  Damn, she wished she could talk to Linc about this.

  *

  MARGO ARRIVED LATE Sunday night in Glen Oaks without telling anyone she was coming and headed right to Beth’s house. Her friend hugged her tightly, and after Margo spent a couple of hours with Ronny, she and Beth stayed up late talking. Beth seemed edgy and preoccupied, but didn’t want to share any of what was on her mind. Since the same was true for Margo herself, they did what they always did—respected each other’s privacy and vegged out. They made popcorn and watched The Thomas Crown Affair again and drooled over Pierce Brosnan. They slept in Beth’s big bed, reminding Margo of the sleepovers they’d had as kids. No bad dreams assailed her that night. But Beth had a beauty. She woke up shivering, and sweating, but wouldn’t discuss the nightmare. She had trouble sleeping after that, so the next morning, Margo insisted Beth stay in bed and catch a few more z’s; Margo got up bright and early and went to the diner to cover for her friend. She was behind the counter serving an omelet to Jim Tacone, the weary but kind probation officer, when Linc came in.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  The sight of him with another woman poleaxed Margo. She froze right in the middle of a sentence. Linc stopped, too, and stared disbelievingly at her. Then his eyes flickered with something she rarely saw these days. Hated to see. Anger. Because she hadn’t returned his phone calls all week, and because she hadn’t let him know she’d be in town, she guessed.

  To dilute it, she waved. “Hi, Rev. Make yourself at home.”

  His face flaming, Linc nodded and steered the woman he was with to a booth. He helped her off with her prim beige raincoat and shrugged out of his denim jacket, revealing a plaid sports shirt Margo had bought him for his birthday.

  She focused on the date. So this must be the preacher’s kid. Just as Margo had thought, the woman was angelic looking. Innocent in a way Margo had never been. She was a head shorter than Linc, with soft brown hair; she looked at the Reverend like he was the second coming.

  Be glad for him.

  I am.

  Liar.

  Jim Tacone tugged on her sleeve. “Hey, Margo, what were you saying?”

  Through the sheer force of will, the kind that had made her strong enough to leave this hellhole of a town, and to leave Linc twice—once when he went into the seminary and once when he told her he was coming back to Glen Oaks—she smiled at Jim and made some quip. Hoping Gerty would materialize to wait on the two new customers, Margo talked with Jim, then was forced to go to Linc.

  The Ma Barker in her surfaced as she approached their table. “Hi, Linc,” she said easily.

  Right away she noticed his first-thing-in-the-morning smell of soap, shaving cream and shampoo. The scent made her shudder. His deep brown eyes were almost black with emotion that he was clearly holding back. Jesse James could be a hellion when he got his dander up. She’d seen it many times. It used to excite her.

  It still did.

  So she faced Mother Teresa. Damned if the woman didn’t have pearls and lace on today. “I’m Margo Morelli. An old friend of Linc’s.”

  “Jane Meachum.” She smiled shyly at Linc. “A new friend of his.”

  Margo gripped the pencil in her hand hard. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled again, a real Oscar-winning performance. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I’ll have decaf coffee.” She shrugged. “We’ve been chatting. I haven’t had a chance to look at the menu.”

  Linc’s look was fierce. “I want regular coffee.” He’d been trying to give up caffeine.

  “Tough night, Rev?” she asked.

  “An even tougher morning,” he said tightly. With his own death grip on the menu, he asked, “Where’s Bethy?”

  “I made her stay in bed this morning. I’m covering for her.”

  “What are you doing in Glen Oaks? I thought you were going to Cancun for the week.”

  “Changed my mind.” God, this was hard. “I decided to take my vacation to be with Beth and Annie. I’m baby-sitting for Matt and Faith later today.”

  Hurt flashed across his face. “I see.” She hadn’t said she’d come to town to see him. “So that’s why I couldn’t reach you last night.”

  “I was at Beth’s.”

  He nodded and looked at the menu. “We’ll order in a minute.” His voice was cut-glass cold. She knew then she’d made a huge mistake in not telling him about her plans to come home.

  It got even more obvious as she surreptitiously watched him for the next forty-five minutes. He flirted like hell with Miss Pure and Simple. He laughed at everything she said, teased her about her shyness—Margo heard that little tidbit when she delivered their meals—and was a regular courtly knight in escorting her out of the diner with his hand resting cozily at the small of her back. The fist crunching Margo’s heart twisted tighter when he said a curt goodbye. He was really, really mad.

  Which was why, ten minutes later, she was shocked when he burst through the kitchen doors like a gunslinger looking for his quarry, grabbed her by the arm, said to Gerty, “Don’t disturb us!” and dragged Margo to the small office.

  Slamming the door, he let go of her arm and whirled around to face her.

  *

  LINC WAS SO furious he wanted to wring somebody’s neck. Hers, specifically. He’d been pissed at her anyway for not returning his calls, but he started seeing red when he walked into Beth’s diner and found Margo flirting with the probation officer. He’d been stunned to see her, all bright and chipper in a sexy V-necked black sweater with nothing underneath it, thos
e damned black jeans that made his mouth water and the belt he’d given her for Christmas—a handmade leather one that wrapped around her waist like a man’s hands.

  “Is there some reason you didn’t tell me about this little visit?” he shouted.

  “Don’t yell at me.” She plopped her hands on her hips.

  “You deserve to be yelled at.”

  She stuck out her chin. “I didn’t know I had to run my schedule by you, Rev.”

  “Damn it Margo, you know what I mean.”

  “Uh-uh-uh!” she said saucily. “Your God won’t like to hear you swear.”

  Spots swam before his eyes. He grabbed her arms and was assaulted by her sexy perfume. “Well, God will like it even less if I strangle your pretty neck, which is what I want to do right now.”

  “Such a thought for a man of the cloth.”

  Desire curled inside him, shocking him with its lightning quickness, its summer-storm potency. In the past, their fights had ended in bed. Even as teenagers, it had been their best sex. He swore again.

  Shrugging out of his grasp, she crossed to Beth’s desk and inched her sexy little hips onto the edge of it. “What are you so mad about?”

  He turned his back on her. Rubbed his neck wearily. Took in a deep, hopefully cleansing breath. “I guess if you don’t know the answer to that, we really are on different wavelengths these days.”

  The problem was they’d always been in tune. She was his soul mate, even when she’d married somebody else. If they were growing apart now…

  It’s for the best , he told himself. When are you going to get it through your thick skull you can’t have this woman?

  Still, he didn’t dare face her. “Never mind, Margo. You’re right. You’re a free agent. You don’t owe me anything. Not even a little consideration.” He flung back the door so hard it hit the wall and strode out of the kitchen.

  His heart felt like she’d stomped on it with those damn boots she wore, picked it up with her beringed hands and thrown it out into the cold.