by Rita Herron
The dreams of her wedding brought her back to reality.
She’d vowed to save herself for her husband. She’d promised to wait until she’d given her heart before she gave herself. And while she feared she might be falling in love with Jake, she’d still only known him a short time.
And she had no idea how he felt about her.
Jake slid his hand to the hem of her sweater and the silly folk legend rose to haunt her. She caught his hands, halting his movements, then slowly looked into his eyes. Shadowed by desire, his eyes had darkened to black, had filled with emotions and turmoil that was almost frightening.
She panicked and pulled away, tears filling her eyes. He toppled backward, bumped his backside against the doorknob.
“I can’t…Jake, I’m sorry. Are you all right?” She gestured toward his injury.
He nodded, unaware of the reason she had denied him as he massaged his aching hip.
“I really am sorry,” she whispered, hating the quiver in her voice. “But…it’s just too soon. I…we barely know each other.”
“And we’re too different,” he said, a low, almost hurt edge to his voice.
“No.” Even as Hannah denied his accusation, she knew he spoke the truth, and he could see in her eyes that she knew it. It was the very reason she didn’t stop him when he turned and walked away.
ANGER BALLED a knot in Jake’s stomach as he drove away from Hannah’s—anger that Hannah had been right. He was a fool for allowing himself almost to sleep with her. It would only make things harder for him to walk away. And he would walk away. Better to do it with the least amount of damage possible. Why hadn’t he been able to control himself?
Maybe passion had momentarily taken its toll, but once daylight had broken she would have regretted her impetuous decision. He was simply a rebound affair for her, someone to ease the confusion over her breakup with Broadhurst. And once Broadhurst returned, she’d be reminded of their differences.
Hell, she’d probably decide she’d been crazy to cancel her wedding and go running back to the man.
He should be glad.
Because somewhere deep inside, he had a feeling if he slept with Hannah, he would lose his heart. And he wasn’t ready to give it up—not completely.
Although he suspected his loss of control might be due to the fact that he already had given a small part of it to Hannah.
Details from the case bombarded his musings, confusing him even more. He’d already sent the info about the woman DeLito had met to headquarters. And he still didn’t know for sure if Mimi and Wiley were involved. They might already have the proof he needed to wind up the case, and he could leave Sugar Hill this week.
Forcing himself back to work, he hurried home and called his partner.
“Muldoon here…. What the hell are you doing calling me so late?”
Jake grimaced. “I’ve been out of touch all day. Did you find anything on DeLito or the woman who met him? I sent her photograph in yesterday.”
“DeLito has an alias, Tony Leery. He has priors for auto theft, fraud, forging signatures, writing bad checks, the list goes on and on.”
Exactly the kind of report Jake had expected. “What about the woman?”
“All we know so far is that her name is Buffy. I’ll call you tomorrow when I find out more.”
Jake hung up, shucked his clothes and went to the refrigerator. Mumbling beneath his breath, he dug through the food Wiley had sent and yanked out contents and made a sandwich. With a beer in one hand and a roast beef sandwich in the other, he slumped onto his sofa and stared at the empty den. Hannah’s house had seemed so cozy and full of life, especially with the Christmas tree lighting up the room.
He flipped on the lamp and told himself to get over it. He was alone, always would be. And he didn’t mind being alone. At least, he never had before he’d met Hannah Hartwell.
THE NEXT MORNING Hannah saw the Broadhursts walking the halls with the chief of staff, their speculative gazes tracking the ER to make certain things were being run efficiently. A jelly-smeared toddler escaped her mother’s hand and barreled toward the soda machine in a nearby waiting area, plowing into Mrs. Broadhurst and wiping jelly on the woman’s white pants.
Mrs. Broadhurst shrieked.
Hannah almost laughed. The mother darted forward and retrieved her little escapee, chastising her in a soft voice. Mrs. Broadhurst glared at Hannah as if she’d ordered the little girl to maul her. With rumors still running rampant in the halls, she imagined she’d be getting called into the chief of staff’s office any minute now.
She walked past the nurses’ station and saw the doors open and a team of paramedics rush in.
“Head injury here!”
“I’m with you,” Dr. Porter shouted, motioning the paramedics toward him.
“Patient’s going into cardiac arrest!” another team yelled, rushing through the corridor.
Dr. Roberts jogged toward the gurney. “Room five. Get the paddles ready!”
Tiffany hauled around the corner from an exam room, issuing orders to the orderlies and assistants to send for blood and other needed equipment. With a click of her teeth, she glanced at Hannah, her face solemn. “We’ve got some crazy kook who thinks he’s Napoleon in room one. I’m calling psych for a consult.”
Hannah sighed. She had just finished a close call with a suicide, had sent the patient to the psych ward herself. Dropping her sterile gloves into the bin, she headed to the locker room, grateful her shift had ended. Pausing momentarily, she whispered a heartfelt prayer for any incoming patients.
She thought of her family as she did so often in the ER. Alison. And Jake.
But Jake wasn’t family.
Maybe he could be, a tiny voice whispered. Maybe you should give him a chance—take a chance and not be afraid to open your heart.
Guilt plagued her for leading him on the night before, for inviting him to her bedroom, then pushing him away. He probably thought she was some kind of tease. She wanted him to understand her reluctance, that making love to her meant giving her heart. Rationalizing that the hope chest had brought her back to her senses didn’t seem to help since the darned hope chest had triggered her migration from sanity in the first place.
She tightened the ribbon around her ponytail, hunched her shoulders and left the locker room, ignoring the curious glances from two nurses. More gossip today—apparently they claimed Hannah had been cavorting around with one of her father’s salesmen.
Not too far from the truth. Except they had the information incorrect and had rumored she and Joey DeLito were an item.
She’d have to warn Mimi.
Deciding to get in the giving spirit, she strolled upstairs to the children’s ward to offer her services. Seeing the young faces would undoubtedly take her mind off her own problems.
Three children sat in the activity room, cutting yellow stars from construction paper, decorating them with glitter. An elderly volunteer finished reading the last few pages of “The Christmas Story” while the children began to work. Hannah listened quietly, stifling a giggle at the globs of glue the little boy dumped on his paper.
“Hey, guys,” Hannah said. “Mind if I help?”
The elderly volunteer stood and stretched her legs. Hannah ruffled the little boy’s dark hair and smiled at the two girls, then turned toward the volunteer. “Go take a break. I’ll watch them for a while.”
The elderly lady nodded. “I think I will grab a cup of coffee.”
Hannah collected some of the brightly colored art paper and a pair of scissors. “I think I’ll make one of these, too.”
“I’m making one for my daddy,” the girl with the mop of strawberry-blond hair chirped. “He travels a lot.”
“And I’m giving mine to my sister. She can’t cut, she’s just a baby,” the little boy said.
Glitter sparkled on the third child’s nose, in her hair, all over her fingers as she beamed a toothless smile up at Hannah. “This is magic stardust,” the l
ittle girl said as she shook another boatload of gold glitter onto her crudely cut star. “And I’m giving mine to my mommy ’cause she’s special.”
Hannah smiled and began to cut the star shape, already knowing she would give hers away too. To a man who lingered in her dreams, whose quiet masculinity haunted her sanity—a big fearless man who had come out of nowhere and stolen her heart.
JAKE HAD COMBED the town earlier, hunting for abandoned warehouses or property where the stolen cars might possibly be hidden, but he’d come up empty-handed.
Now he studied the files he’d copied from Wiley’s computer, relieved he’d finally found a moment to slip into the older man’s office, but confused over the segments that seemed to be missing. Suspicions mounting, he guessed they contained information Wiley planned to adjust to cover his underhanded business dealings. He had two more to review when the doorbell rang.
Shocked to find Hannah Hartwell at his door, he simply stared at her, trying to fight the urge to drag her inside and kiss her senseless.
“I have something for you,” she said without preamble.
“Not more food,” Jake said. “I’m really healed enough, you don’t have to—”
“It’s not food,” Hannah said. She held out a small square of tissue paper and gestured for him to accept the gift. Jake drew his brows together, wondering what the dickens she was up to now.
“It’s not much, and you may think it’s silly, but I wanted you to have it.” A sly little smile lit her face, a soft pink suffusing her cheeks. “As an apology for last night.”
“There’s no need—”
“Yes,” she whispered, cutting him off. “I didn’t mean to lead you on. I’m not like that, Jake, not a tease.”
“I realize that,” Jake said, the vulnerable look in her eyes gnawing at his conscience.
“And it’s not that I didn’t want you,” she said a little too softly, “but I don’t give myself lightly.”
He licked his lips, striving for a calm voice when his heart was pounding. “I know that, too.”
“Then take this. I simply wanted you to know that I was thinking about you, that yesterday was special.”
Jake accepted the tissue and opened the folds, stunned to find a handmade glittery star inside.
“It’s a Christmas ornament,” Hannah said in a rush. “I kept rambling on about all my homemade decorations yesterday, and we made these with the children at the hospital today so I decided… Well, it’s pretty crude and you don’t have to keep it—”
“It’s beautiful,” Jake said, his throat suddenly thick. “I’ll keep it always.” His gaze rose to meet hers, latched onto the emotion in her eyes, and his heart gave a painful tug. First a damn rose. Now a stupid homemade paper star made with glue and glitter. Two silly gifts that melted his normally ironclad control to molten lava.
“You don’t have a tree, do you?” Hannah asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t usually decorate one.”
“Well, maybe you can hang it above the doorway. We let the kids make dozens of them and we hung them from the ceiling of the rec room in the children’s ward so it looks like a sky full of stars.”
Jake chuckled at her rambling.
She slipped the silky white ribbon from her hair, sending the long golden strands cascading around her shoulders, then brushed her fingers lightly across his palm as she threaded the ribbon through the star. “There, now you can hang it above your doorway.”
Jake’s finger glided along the silky ribbon, aching to thread his fingers into Hannah’s hair. He wanted one more night with her, he realized. A night where he forgot the case and simply savored holding her in his arms.
HANNAH SMILED, biting down on her lip at the less than subtle look of hunger in Jake’s eyes.
“Have you eaten, doc?”
Hannah glanced down at her rumpled, worn clothes. “No, but I’m not really dressed to go out. A patient…well, you don’t really want to know what happened at the hospital. Let’s just say I don’t feel presentable enough for a restaurant.” She wanted something more private, quiet, so she could mellow out.
“I have an idea. Let’s throw together a picnic and go for a drive.”
“A picnic?” Somehow that didn’t sound like a good idea. Too private. Especially with her hormones so out of whack.
“Sure, you do like picnics, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, of course, but you—”
“Then come on in, put your feet up and relax for a few minutes. You can have a glass of wine while I pack dinner.”
Hannah frowned as he took her hand and led her in. “Listen, Jake, I’m the doctor here. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”
Jake reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, silencing her protests. “Then feed my male ego by letting me do this. I’m healing nicely.” His dark eyes roamed across her face, desire flickering in his lopsided grin. “You and your dad have been way too generous and I have a lot of energy to expel.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes as he dropped his finger from her mouth and poured her a glass of Chardonnay. Male ego? A lot of energy to expel? Exactly what did the devilish man have in mind?
What did it matter? Hannah decided, catching a glimpse of the pearl ring shimmering on her hand. She’d consider the picnic an act of defiance—by going, she’d prove to herself she wasn’t as afraid as Dr. McCoy and Alison had suggested.
Chapter Fifteen
Daylight started to fade as they drove north around the Georgia mountains. Jake’s reservations about using Hannah Hartwell thrived full-force. He really thought she was innocent. Or if she was involved at all, she was simply protecting her dad or her sister. Maybe she would even thank him later if DeLito had been using her dad and he exposed the man for his fraudulent behavior.
Yeah, right. She’d thank him for lying to her.
A seed of guilt nagged at him, reminding him he shouldn’t become physically involved with the woman until he knew her sister and father were innocent. But temptation in the form of two liquid blue eyes lasered through his resistance. And her words haunted him—I don’t give myself easily.
But she had almost given herself to him. Did that mean she was starting to care for him?
“Blacktop Bluff,” Hannah said, pointing to the magnificent view of the parkway as he pulled into a small park midway up the mountain. A few people lingered in the park, children throwing Frisbees and skipping rocks across the creek. Someone had lit a grill and the steamy scent of charcoal and grilled burgers cooking warmed the chilly air.
“My dad brought us here for a picnic when I was a kid. I remember eating cold fried chicken and biscuits and standing at the overhang in awe,” Hannah said. “I thought I could see all of Georgia right here from the top of this cliff, then we drove all the way to the top and I thought I could see the whole world.”
“It is beautiful,” Jake said, admiring Hannah as much as he did the view. He barely resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her delicate perfect cheek. From the wind blowing in their faces on the drive up, her hair lay in soft whirls around her shoulders. Her cheeks had a rosy glow, her eyes were a little brighter than when they’d first set out. Something had been troubling her, but so far she hadn’t opened up. They’d simply listened to a soft blues tape and enjoyed the uplifting ride through the winding countryside in silence. The temperature had been unusually warm for November, but now they’d reached the higher altitude of the mountains, the air had turned nippy. His gaze caught two kids frolicking in the creek, and he had an idea—a little out of character for him, but a way to lighten the mood with Hannah. He wanted to see her smile, to have a few pleasant memories to take with him when he left Sugar Hill. To take some of the seriousness off Hannah’s face. To pretend they were a normal couple on a date.
He spread a blanket on the ground, set the picnic basket on top, then gently reached out and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, his voice husky, “I k
now just what you need, doc.”
“What?” Hannah hugged her arms around herself, suddenly suspicious. He had that teasing glint to his smile again. And his lips were so darned close that if she stood on tiptoe she could kiss him. An ache, soul deep, stirred inside her. She started to rise on her toes….
But he caught her hand instead. “Let’s go wading in the creek.” He gently pulled her down to the grass and began shucking his shoes.
“What? But that water’s probably freezing.”
“Come on, Hannah, it’ll be fun.”
Hannah nodded, smiling at the children and picnickers scattered along the edge of the stream. Jake shed his shoes and socks and rolled his jeans up his shins, revealing a layer of dark hair on his muscular calves that sent her imagination into overdrive big time. Hannah swallowed, her nerves fluttering at the sight of his long masculine feet. Everything about Jake Tippins was big—his every feature radiated strength and power and masculinity.
“Well, are you going to remove your shoes, doc, or do you need help?”
Hannah gaped at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
The cocky grin he slanted at her indicated he would.
She kicked off her pumps just as he reached for her trouser socks. Shrieking, she pushed away his hands, but he tickled her toes, and she broke into laughter. With a jubilant shout, he yanked off her socks and tossed them aside, then dragged her to a standing position, and pulled her into the icy water. The frigid temperature numbed her other senses as she chased him across the rocks.
“Be careful,” Hannah called. “You don’t want to fall and reinjure yourself.”
“Okay, doc,” he called, running faster.
“Jake Tippins, slow down!” Hannah ran to catch up with him, laughing harder when he slipped and almost lost his balance. Cold water sloshed against her ankles and shot icy prickles up her shins. Jake’s foot hit a pebble, he yelped and staggered, then lost his footing and fell forward. Hannah shrieked and reached to break his fall, but missed. He caught himself on his hands, landing with his knees splashing in the frigid water, his long body contorted awkwardly as he struggled to maintain his balance and not fall the rest of the way on his face. Laughter bubbled inside Hannah’s chest—he looked like a frog as he tried to stand again, his feet slipping, his hands groping on the slick rocks. Finally, when his hand massaged his sore backside, Hannah took pity on him and moved to help him.
