Everything But Marriage

by Dallas Schulze

  Annalise followed him into the house, her attrition all for the cat. Devlin opened a can of tuna and emptied it onto a saucer that he set on the kitchen floor. Aside from the obvious bulge of her stomach, the cat was hardly more than skin and bones, but when Annalise lowered her on the floor, she didn't immediately rush toward the food.

  She stayed just where she was, her thin body stiff, her eyes wary. She eyed Devlin, weighing the potential hazard he represented. Obligingly he moved back from the food. She hesitated a moment longer and then slinked slowly across the floor. She sniffed at the tuna and then lifted her head to give the surroundings one last careful look before she finally took a bite.

  "How long do you think it's been since she last ate?" Annalise asked softly.

  Devlin shrugged. **A few days, probably. She's not in bad shape, aside from being a little scrawny."

  "How could someone just abandon her like that? When she needed help?"

  Devlin looked at her, wondering who had abandoned her when she needed help. Her interest was focused on the cat, who was devouring the tuna with dainty greed.

  "They probably told themselves that she*d hunt her own food. People like to believe that lie, especially about cats/'

  Annalise lifted her eyes from the cat, catching him by surprise as her gaze met his. "Do you mind that I brought her here? I should have asked."

  "I don't mind." With those big eyes looking at him uncertainly, he'd probably have said he didn't mind if she wanted to puU his fingernails out.

  "I've got to get back to work," he said abruptly, dragging his gaze from hers. What he really needed was some fresh air to blow away the unwelcome realization that Annalise St. John just might be a very attractive woman.

  Chapter 4

  Annalise spent what remained of the morning and most of the afternoon fussing over the cat. Devlin spent the same period of time trying not to watch An-nahse.

  It wasn't easy.

  There was something remarkably appealing about the picture she and the cat made. Both of them needed more meat on their bones. Both of them had a certain bruised look, as if life had battered them a little too often. Not that it mattered to him what treatment life had handed out to either the woman or the cat.

  Devlin tightened his jaw and focused doggedly on the task at hand. Up until today, he'd had no trouble concentrating on whatever needed doing on the house. In fact, he'd enjoyed the vast majority of the work, no matter how repetitive some of it was. It felt good to be

  building something with his own hands, something strong and enduring.

  But when Annahse had tumbled into the river, she'd also tumbled right into the middle of his life. It should have been easy to ignore her. It wasn't as if she demanded attention or chattered his ear off. In fact, she was so quiet, he should have been able to forget her presence completely.

  It didn't seem to work that way, however. Thoughts of his houseguest occupied more of his time than Devlin wanted to admit. He kept telling himself that he was going to ask her where she wanted to go—make it clear that he didn't mind fishing her out of the river, but that didn't make her a permanent part of his life.

  He could take her into Remembrance and find her a place to stay. Or maybe she'd want to go to the hospital. Just because she was showing signs of life didn't mean all her problems were solved. She might actually welcome a chance to get some medical help.

  Somehow, lunch came and went and the afternoon slowly drifted by, and he still hadn't said anything to her about leaving. He told himself that he didn't want to do anything that might turn her back into the unresponsive lump she'd been before finding the cat.

  The truth was, she intrigued him. She'd responded with total indifference to the idea that she might have tried to commit suicide, yet she'd nearly cried over the plight of an abandoned animal. She hadn't bothered to wash her face or brush her hair, but she'd carefully bathed the cat with a warm washcloth and spent hours combing knots out of the animal's knotted fur.

  Maybe he missed humanity more than he was willing to admit. When he'd left prison, he'd wanted nothing more than to be alone. After so many years spent in forced proximity with hundreds of other men, the very idea that he didn't have to see or hear anyone else for days on end had been paradise.

  He'd been content with the way he'd arranged his life. He was close enough to Remembrance to see his sister and his young nephew, the only people he had any interest in. Yet he was away from the hustle and bustle, stuck out in the country, where he might not see anyone but the mail carrier for weeks at a time.

  Now, suddenly, Annalise had been dropped into his life, and he was finding that he wasn't as eager to see the last of her as he'd have liked.

  Devlin let the day drift by without saying anything about finding her another place to stay. It didn't seem to occur to Annalise to worry about it. If it was someone else, he might have thought she was assuming a bit much, but he didn't think Annalise was being presumptuous.

  He didn't think she'd given any thought to the matter at all. From the looks of her, he suspected it had been a long time since she'd thought much about the little details of life, like where she was going to spend the night or where the next meal might be coming from. Especially the meal part of it.

  For someone who looked as if they hadn't had a solid meal in weeks, Annalise showed little interest in food. She'd eaten less than half of the roast beef sandwich he'd put in front of her at lunch. She'd fed

  the rest of its contents to the cat, who showed no hesitation at all about making up for lost dinners.

  The sun was starting to sink as Devlin put away the ladder and his tools. It was too late to do anything about settling Annalise somewhere else. She'd have to spend the night. But tomorrow, first thing, he'd tell her that other arrangements had to be made.

  When he entered the kitchen, Annalise was sitting on the floor next to the cat, who was polishing off a saucer of tuna. As far as Devlin could tell, the animal had done nothing but eat since her arrival in his home. It didn't seem possible that such a small animal could hold so much food.

  Annalise climbed to her feet as he walked to the sink and started to scrub the day's dirt from his hands.

  "I hope you don't mind that I opened another can of tuna. Beauty was hungry."

  "Beauty?" Devlin gave the scruffy cat a doubting look. True, fed and bathed and combed, she looked considerably better than she had when she first arrived, but the word beauty was hardly the first thing that sprang to mind when he saw her.

  "She needed a name," Annalise said. "I thought it suited her."

  "She's welcome to all the tuna she wants." Devlin answered the original question and sidestepped the necessity for comment on the name.

  "Thank you." Annalise watched him work soap into his hands and forearms. He had strong hands, widely palmed with long, blunt fingers. The kind of hands that made you feel safe and protected.

  She looked away, focusing on Beauty, who'd finished her meal and had settled down to take a thorough bath. Watching the little cat earnestly cleaning her dull fur, Annalise was suddenly aware of what her hair must look like. She hadn't bothered to comb it, hadn't even looked in a mirror.

  How long had it been since she'd cared enough about her appearance to look in a mirror? Weeks? Months, perhaps? She reached up to pat her fingers over her hair. Glancing at Devlin, she saw that he was watching her as he dried his hands. What did he see when he looked at her? A pale, unkempt woman who was too thin, she answered herself promptly.

  "I must look pretty awful," she murmured.

  "I've seen worse." One comer of his mouth kicked up in a half smile. "You're welcome to use the shower and a comb if you'd like."

  "Thank you." Annalise smoothed her hands over the baggy sweatpants, aware that they weren't quite steady. "You've done a great deal for me."

  "Not that much." He shrugged. "I've been down on my luck a time or two myself. I ran your clothes through the washer and dryer. They're on the foot of the bed."

&
nbsp; "Thank you." She felt as if there should be something more to say, but she couldn't find the words.

  "Dinner's in an hour," Devlin said, making it clear that, as far as he was concerned, the conversation was closed.

  Annalise took the hint. She wasn't sure what exactly she'd wanted to say anyway.

  The bathroom was huge, with a tub the size of a small swimming pool and a separate shower stall. This room seemed the most complete of any she'd seen in the house. Ivory tile covered the shower, as well as surrounding the tub. The walls that weren't tile were painted a matching shade of ivory.

  The floor was also tile, a slightly darker shade of gray. The faucets and towel racks were all brass, the golden gleam a warm contrast to the pale ivory. The towels, the bath mat and the fixtures were all a stark black. It was a striking combination. Rather stark but not cold.

  Annalise showered, lathering the heavy length of her hair several times. She tried to remember the last time she'd had access to a shower and all the hot water she could stand. The last time she'd been able to afford a motel room, she thought. That had been weeks ago. She'd had that part-time job stocking shelves in a supermarket. Where had that been? Chicago?

  She wasn't sure. She'd drifted in and out of so many different places this past year. Ever since— No. It didn't matter since when. She wasn't going to think about that. Not now. Not when she fdt a lightaiing of the misty fog that had all but smothered her these past few months.

  When she was at last satisfied that her hair was clean, she shut off the shower and stepped out onto the bath mat. She wrapped her hair in one thick ebony towel and wrapped another sarong-style over her breasts.

  She felt warm. The hot shower accounted for only part of that feeling. This was a warmth that was more

  than skin-deep. Somewhere inside, a thawing had begun. The chill that had gripped her soul for the past year had eased its hold.

  Maybe it was Devlin's kindness; maybe it was his asking if she might have jumped into the river the day before. Certainly the thaw owed something to feeling Beauty's small furry body in her arms, to knowing that someone or something needed her.

  Annalise stared into the mirror, really looking at herself for the first time in months. She almost regretted her bravery. The mirror reflected her image back to her with merciless clarity. There was no softening of the too-prominent angles of her cheekbones, nothing to add color to her pale skin.

  She looked older than she was. She was twenty-five, but she could have passed for ten years older. It wasn't anything as obvious as wrinkles that added years to her age. It was a certain worn look about her skin and the emptiness in her eyes. They looked as empty as her arms felt.

  She pushed the thought away and turned from the mirror. What difference did it make how she looked? There was no one to care, no one to even notice.

  Devlin was finishing up dinner when Annalise entered the kitchen. He shot her a quick glance as he slid two steaks under the broiler. It took a conscious effort to drag his eyes away. Cleaned up and with a spark of life in her eyes, she was dangerously close to beautiful.

  He slammed the broiler door shut. She was still much too thin, of course. The white dress she'd been

  wearing when she tumbled into the river was too large. It wasn't a particulariy attractive dress to begin with. A loose bodice attached to a full skirt that drooped at the waist. It looked old and worn.

  But it couldn't detract from the startling improvement in Annahse's appearance. She'd washed ho" hair and toweled it neariy dry before combing it out. Last night he'd wondered what color it would be when it was dry. Today, he'd noticed little more than that it was lighter than he'd expected. Now he could see that it was a sort of ash blond. It hung thick and straight almost to her waist. It was the kind of hair a man could lose himself in, the kind that was made to be spread over a pillow.

  "Is there anything I can do to help?" The question made Devlin realize that he'd been staring at her.

  "You can finish setting the table." His tone was abrupt, made more so by the realization that it wasn't as hard as he would have liked to picture Annalise's hair spread across a pillow—his pillow specifically.

  They worked in silence broken only by Devlin pointing out the location of plates and silverware. The last of the sunlight disappeared just as they were sitting down to eat. The kitchen was an oasis of light, tucked between the twilight outside and the rest of the house, which was all in darkness.

  Devlin cut off a slice of steak and put it into his mouth, chewing slowly. He didn't think he'd ever be able to take good food for granted. A year on the outside and he was still deriving enormous pleasure from something as simple as a well-cooked steak.

  "It's very good." Annalise's comment drew his attention to her. "Thank you," she added shyly.

  "You're welcome."

  She took a few small bites and set her fork down.

  "I don't think I thanked you for getting me out of the river," she said slowly.

  "You thanked me. Don't let your dinner get cold."

  She picked up her fork and ate a little more, but he didn't need to be a mind reader to know her thoughts weren't on her meal.

  "I didn't jump," she said abruptly. He shot her a quick glance, but she wasn't looking at him. There didn't seem to be much he could say in reply, so he said nothing, letting her work out her thoughts.

  "At least, I don't think I did," she added, as if she felt she should be scrupulously honest.

  "You don't owe me any explanations."

  "Don't I?" She eyed him uncertainly. "It seems to me that you ought to know, one way or another. The thing is, I'm not a hundred percent certain myself." She toyed with her fork. "I wish I were," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

  He was just going to let the subject drop, Devlin thought. He didn't want to get into an emotionally loaded conversation. Whether or not she'd tried to kill herself was a matter of almost complete indifference to him.

  "Were you thinking about killing yourself?"

  The abrupt question seemed to startle her. She looked at him, her eyes uncertain.

  "I don't know." The promptness of the answer made it clear that it was no more or less than the truth.

  She really didn't know what had been on her mind, in her heart.

  "Does it really matter at all that much, one way or the other?"

  "I should know, shouldn't I?"

  "Why?"

  She stared at him, groping for an answer to the simple question. Of course, it was important for hCT to know what had really happened. After all, you couldn't attempt to kill yourself and not know it. Could you? She frowned and looked away from that cool blue gaze. What did he know, anyway?

  "It's just important. That's all." Her answer carried a hint of peevishness that almost made Devlin smile.

  "Do you want to die, now?"

  "No." Her eyes swept to his again.

  "Then does it really matter all that much what you did yesterday? Knowing isn't going to change what happened, whether you fell or jumped. And it isn't going to change how you feel now."

  "No, but I'd stiU like to know."

  Devlin took his time chewing and swallowing his last bite of steak and then pushed the plate away. Crossing his forearms on the table in front of him, he looked at her, his eyes unreadable.

  "That riverbank isn't all that stable at the best of times. In the midst of a heavy rain, it's even more prone to crumble. You were standing close to the edge. In fact, I was just about to call over to you and warn you when you slipped."

  Annalise digested this, feeling a burden lift from her shoulders. '*Then you don't think I jumped?"

  He shrugged. "I think it's pretty likely that the bank crumbled under you."

  "Thank you." Her smile was wider this time, a bit uncertain, as if it had been a long time since she'd used it.

  Devlin didn't like the odd little pain that smile caused in his chest. "Your dinner's getting cold," he said brusquely.

  Annalise p
icked up her fork, more to be polite, he suspected, than because she was interested in the food. Whatever the reason, it wouldn't hurt her to eat a bit more.

  God, listen to him. He was beginning to sound like a mother hen. He'd never thought of himself as a particularly paternal type, but something about Annalise brought out a long-buried urge to fuss. He'd just as soon bury it again, he thought sourly.

  "Where do you live?"

  Annalise's fork hit the plate with a snap.

  "Live?" She repeated the word as if unsure of its meaning.

  "I was just wondering if there was someone who'd be worried about you."

  He was watching her face carefully and he thought he saw a tinge of relief, as if the second question was easier to answer than the first.

  "No, there's no one." She hesitated but seemed to feel the need to add something. "I've been traveling for a while, actually. I don't really have a permanent address."

  Or a temporary one, either, he'd be wilUng to bet. It would have been cruel to ask her why she'd been traveling or what she'd been doing. He might be many things, but cruel was not one of them.

  "Do you have a car?" She blinked at him, as if the question was a difficult one.

  "Yes," she said slowly, frowning as if the memory were vague. "It died. I didn't know what to do. So far from town and all."

  He didn't believe for one minute that she had any idea of how far she was from Remembrance. He doubted she even knew where the nearest town was. But he didn't pursue the question. He neither expected nor wanted her to spill her guts to him. She was welcome to her secrets, whatever they were.

  "Oh!" The sudden exclamation brought Devlin's eyes to her.

  "What's wrong?"

  "It just occurred to me that I haven't even asked you if you'll let me spend the night here again."

  The anbarrassed color that flooded her cheeks was really rather attractive, he decided. It made her eyes seem darker, wider.

  "You're welcome to stay the night."

  "You must think I'm a dreadful person." She pushed her half-eaten dinner away, her distress obvious. "I've barely thanked you for saving my life. I hardly even acknowledge your kindness and then I presume on your hospitality. You should have gotten rid of me hours ago.''