A Taste of Romance: Four Original Harlequin Novellas: The Reaper's HeartThe Good GirlAny Man of MineSecret Agent Seduction

by Michele Hauf

  “The doctor told you to take the rest of the week off.”

  “He also said there is nothing wrong with me. I won’t go out on calls until Monday, but it’s going to hurt me more sitting here thinking about all the cases on my desk than it will to be at my desk dealing with them.”

  He was still frowning and Mary covered his hand with hers. “I’m fine, Bill. And I give you my word, I won’t leave the office, and I’ll come home the second I start to feel tired or get a headache.” A residual headache or two was to be expected after being conked on the head by a sheet of drywall.

  He stared at her hard and then said, “I’m thirty-nine years old.”

  She blinked at the non sequitur. What had she missed? Had being hit on the head confused her more than she’d thought?

  “I know.”

  His plate sat untouched before him, his silverware still on the table. Mary picked up her fork. Took a bite of egg and ham and cheese and onion that she didn’t really want.

  “Obviously I’m a late bloomer, or just plain dense when it comes to matters of the heart, but...I want you to marry me.”

  Swallowing, Mary gaped. She could see herself, as if from afar as the same way she had during those horrifying minutes in the bathtub, protecting children she’d just met. Reality and dream melded together—her sitting at her kitchen table, watching everything around her, interspersing reality with longing. Creating a version of what life could be.

  “I’m not doing this right, I know. I planned to take you out to the cliff this morning. I have roses in the freezer in your garage and with the ocean as my witness, I was going to get down on my knees and beg you to be my wife, after which we’d go to lunch at Chloe’s...

  Her favorite seafood place. Seafood salad didn’t sound bad.

  “But if you’re going to the office, that blows those plans, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let another chance pass me by. I don’t want you to spend another day without some kind of understanding between us. I want to have the right to take care of you, to hear your medical reports, be informed of—”.

  Mary shook her head. And he stopped talking.

  “Slow down,” she said. Her insides were belly flopping—she’d heard the term from an eleven-year-old boy a few years ago. It came back to her now. And it fit.

  “You aren’t going to tell me no, are you? Please marry me, sweetheart. My life is not complete without you and I want the world to know that. I’m sorry it took me too long to wake up, but I’m absolutely positive that marrying you is all that matters. Standing outside that pile of rubbish the other day, not knowing if you were dead or alive, all I could think about was the life I’d wasted, not living with you as my wife...”

  Tears burned her eyes; emotion clogged her throat. She’d been waiting for two years to hear these words. She’d known she wanted to marry Bill Mendholson a month after they’d met again. The man brought peace to her soul at the same time that he brought life and excitement to her heart. And what he did to her body...

  But she wasn’t like Bill. She couldn’t just let the past go. Maybe it really didn’t matter to him. Clearly, based on the life that had passed before her eyes when she’d been so sure she was going to die, the past—her past—was still clinging to her.

  Putting down her fork, Mary had an inane thought about the food going to waste, the effort he’d made to prepare breakfast going to waste. And she was outside herself again. Assessing the situation, knowing that by thinking about the food she was focusing on the mundane, the unthreatening.

  A coping mechanism.

  She took a deep breath. And another. She could do this. Bill had never required it of her. He’d never once asked her to talk about who she’d been the first time they’d met. That night at the strip club... He had to have recognized her, but he’d never once questioned her earlier choices, or showed any surprise that the second time they’d met she’d been a college graduate, a licensed social worker. He’d just accepted the new her. And through that acceptance, she’d finally begun to accept herself.

  Or so she’d thought.

  Until she’d lain in that bathtub and she was going to have to answer for her poor choices.

  “Mary? What’s going on? Do you feel okay?”

  His voice sounded distant. But he was sitting right there. Holding her hand.

  Holding her up. As always.

  She didn’t deserve this man.

  But she loved him with her whole heart. And she’d do everything she possibly could to bring happiness to his life.

  “Is it my job? Is that what’s worrying you? I know it’s hard being a cop’s wife. The danger. The hours. It’s why it took me so long to get to this point. I always figured marriage wasn’t for me. But now...”

  “I’m proud of the work you do, Bill. Don’t ever apologize for it.” The passion in her voice erupted from deep inside her, as though a twelve-year floodgate had opened.

  She’d put a lid on her past. But it hadn’t been fastened down tightly enough. He still held her hand. She concentrated on the warm touch of his skin against hers as his larger fingers wrapped protectively around hers.

  “I’ve made a good life for myself,” she began. I work hard and contribute all I can to society. But after the past couple of days, I know that I can’t keep pretending the past doesn’t exist. Because it does. Inside me. It’s part of me. And I can’t marry you until we talk about it.”

  He was frowning again. And the confusion in his eyes made her heart pound. “The past? What are you talking about? The job you do...the kids you’ve helped? You save lives, Mary. Just look at that cup. It tells your story.”

  She’d helped a girl find her way out of anger and into an ability to open her heart to a loving foster mother.

  She shook her head. “I’m talking about before, Bill.” Her chest was so tight she could hardly pull air through her lungs. “About the first time we met.”

  “The day that bastard backhanded you? What the hell do you have to feel shame about there? You know as well as I do that...”

  That night was the first time she’d seen Bill Mendholson.

  What? His words faded into the distance as horror filled every part of her being. Sick to her stomach, she stared at the cop who’d physically dragged her off the stage the night she’d been hauled to jail.

  The night that had changed her life in so many ways.

  The night that had been the last nail in her father’s coffin.

  “Mary?”

  “You don’t remember...”

  “Remember what? I remember every detail of the day we met, s. Down to the fighting look on your face, the black eye that bastard gave you...”

  Black eyes. The first time they’d met, she’d had on false eyelashes and enough makeup to change her from a vulnerable, modest virgin into the slut men paid to see.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t remember. Or that he’d been able to put the past behind him.

  He didn’t know.

  He didn’t recognize her.

  Bill Mendholson, the man she was irrevocably in love with, the man she’d thought had given her back decency and self-respect, didn’t even know who she was.

  Chapter Five

  He should have waited. Holding on to Mary’s hand, Bill sat at her kitchen table, their eggs congealing on the plates, trying to be patient. And not to panic.

  He’d bungled the proposal. He got that. But surely he hadn’t read her wrong—hadn’t read them wrong. The whole time she’d been in and out of consciousness she’d never asked for anyone but him.

  Still, judging by the wide-eyed horror with which she was studying him, he’d missed something.

  And then those beautiful blue eyes clouded over with pain.

  “What is it?” he asked, leaning toward her, prepared to catch her if she fell. “Does your head hurt again?”

  “My head is fine.” Her words were delivered with strength. And derision? “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  “What
?” The doctor had given Bill his number. If she showed signs of confusion he was to call. “Of course I know who you are.” But maybe she didn’t. That would certainly explain the horrified expression. “You’re Mary Anderson. A case manager with social services.”

  Was she bleeding on the brain? The neurologist had explained the danger, the signs to watch out for. He’d also said Mary’s chances of experiencing any of them were minimal.

  However, he’d told Bill to keep watch....

  “I mean before. You don’t remember.”

  She was scaring him.

  “I guess I don’t,” he said, deciding it was best to play along, to see if her lapse was only momentary before he went into an all-out panic and called the emergency squad. If she was hemorrhaging, she could have a stroke. He’d listened carefully to every word the doctor had said when he’d released Mary into his care.

  “That day, two years ago, when we met at the scene of one of my worst experiences on the job was not the first time we met, Bill.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  She shook her head. But didn’t waver at all. Or act the least bit like she was losing her faculties. On the contrary, she sounded completely, one hundred percent lucid.

  Sitting back he met her gaze directly. And saw pain there. And conviction, too. If this woman was hallucinating, it was the most convincing case of confusion he’d ever encountered.

  “When was the first time?” He had a pretty strong feeling that he didn’t want to know.

  “Ten years ago.”

  He didn’t think so. “Are you sure? I was still in uniform then. Maybe you’re mistaking me for another cop.”

  Her smile was sad, and tinged with some emotion he didn’t recognize. “I’m sure, Bill. I know it was you.”

  “I’d have remembered,” he insisted.

  “All this time...these past two years...I thought you did remember.”

  “How could you think that? I would’ve mentioned if I’d seen you before.” Shaking his head, he let go of her hand, sitting back. His instincts had saved his life more than once. And just then, they were telling him that something wasn’t right. “You never mentioned it, either.”

  He was starting to get angry and knew that wasn’t fair. But damn. Who did this? Who had a relationship with someone without bringing up something as significant as having met them before?

  Racking his brain for any time in his life when he could possibly have seen this woman—and forgotten her—he drew a complete blank.

  She clutched her robe closed at the neck, both elbows on the table, then sat up straight and said, “I didn’t mention it because I thought you were showing me respect by not making an issue of it. I was taking your lead.”

  Taking his lead? When he hadn’t known he was leading? Was the woman nuts?

  Bill shrugged that off. Considering the bump Mary had taken to the head, he was eternally grateful that she was sane and capable of logic. No matter what she was telling him.

  He thought about what she’d said. About showing her respect. And not making an issue of whatever it was.

  Sounded like she’d been in some kind of trouble.

  “Did I catch you doing something wrong?” He’d pulled her over for speeding. That had to be it. Or maybe she’d had a broken taillight. Pray it wasn’t drunk driving. He’d find it hard to believe she’d ever risked her life, and the lives of others in such an irresponsible way. But if she had, she’d spent the past ten years making up for the mistake. Learning from it. And...

  “You could say that.”

  Tears filled her eyes and the sight was unusual enough that Bill leaned toward her again. Taking her hand. Tension tightened every nerve inside him and still, he wanted to help her. Protect her. Love her.

  “Just tell me, sweetheart. Since I don’t remember, it can’t have been that big a deal. I know who you are now. And...I love you.” Not quite the way he’d planned on making the first-time declaration.

  And yet...completely fitting. Natural.

  Her reaction shocked him. His strong, resilient, beautiful Mary started to cry in earnest. “I...love...you, too—” she hiccupped “—Bill.”

  He couldn’t miss the fact that their mutual love was bringing her pain. Not joy.

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  If she was on the run, if she’d done something he couldn’t fix, he’d run with her. He knew how to hide. Because he knew how to find those who hid. Somehow he’d deal with it. Make it right. He just had to know....

  “We met the night you busted The Strip Joint.” With a deep breath Mary became someone else, in front of his eyes. Her tears stopped. Her gaze deadened. Even her posture changed. Her back straightened, and her arms closed in on herself. Her chin lifted. Almost as though she was daring him—or waiting for a painful blow.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t picture you. I don’t recall you being there. Were you tending bar?”

  The idea sickened him. His sweet, kind Mary exposed to the out-of-control sexual assholes men became in such establishments.

  “You hauled me off the stage, Bill.”

  Like an avalanche hitting him, the truth played itself out in his mind. He distinctly remembered the night they’d busted the club. He’d only been inside the place once before, and just like that first evening, Jenny had been up on the stage when he and his fellow officers burst into the room. This time, another woman had been dancing with her, if you could call the near-naked sliding up and down those two poles dancing....

  He’d had to get the first woman off the stage in order to reach his baby sister. He’d handed the woman off to his partner. The same guy he’d nailed in the jaw a few months before. A guy who’d moved to Boston several years later.

  He hadn’t taken the time to get a good look at her—beyond the overlong eyelashes and overdone makeup. He’d figured she was about his sister’s age. Had wondered if her parents were as heartbroken as his to have their little girl involved in such an emotionally and physically damaging business.

  But thinking back, he saw a resemblance to the woman sitting in the soft terry robe at the breakfast he’d prepared.

  He thought of Jenny.

  Thought about the fact that he’d just asked a former stripper to marry him.

  Did he know her at all?

  What kind of men had she had before him? How many?

  “You told me you were a virgin.” Before they’d made love the first time. Had she lied?

  Other times, too?

  At least now he realized why Mary was the most incredible lover he’d ever had. She knew how to turn men on.

  He felt played. Betrayed. Humiliated. Stupid as hell and—

  “I was a virgin. You’re the only lover I’ve ever had. I danced, Bill. Nothing else.”

  “What about lap dances?” He’d never availed himself of the experience, but he knew guys who had. He knew what sometimes went on behind closed doors, too. Whether it was technically legal or not.

  She shook her head. “Only onstage. That was part of my agreement with the owner. I never had to work the crowd one on one.”

  Had Jenny? He’d never asked. Truth was, he’d assumed the worst and hadn’t wanted to know the details. He’d just wanted his baby sister out of there—so badly that from the first night he’d seen her onstage, he’d made it his personal mission to track every minor infraction made by The Strip Joint until he could shut the place down.

  Had Mary known Jenny? He’d told her he had a younger sister who’d left home and never come back to Comfort Cove. A girl who’d rebelled to the point of hating them all. He might have told her Jenny’s name. He couldn’t remember.

  She’d only met his folks once or twice. His brother once. She’d never met his older sister. She hadn’t been anything official in his life.

  He’d never been the kind of guy to bring a girl home for holidays.

  And Mary hadn’t been anything he’d wanted to share. His mother would’ve been all over her—taking aw
ay the little time he and Mary had alone together....

  He looked at her but had to look away. Now that he remembered, he couldn’t see her without seeing the makeup. The bouffant hair and body glitter. The stars stuck to her nipples—the only covering on her breasts.

  Standing, Bill gathered the dishes. He had to get them out of there before the smell of the eggs made him puke.

  Mary said she thought he’d known about her past all along. But was she being honest with him? How could she have slid that body up his like she’d slid it up a pole in front of hundreds of horny, hollering men, bending down so they could shove bills in her G-string? How could she do that without talking to him about what she’d done? Could she really believe he’d have touched her without first clearing the air?

  Scrubbing the dishes as though they had blood on them, he wanted to hate her. She’d deceived him. She’d let him fall in love with a woman he could not possibly spend his life with.

  “It’s all right, Bill. I’ll get those.” Her soft voice behind him held no rancor. Or apology, either.

  He would finish what he’d started. Because that was what he did. Who he was.

  Because he wasn’t ready to turn around and face her.

  He loved her. Even now, he loved her. He didn’t want to hurt her. And didn’t have a plan. Or the slightest idea of what to do.

  The only thing that made sense to him at the moment was to find a place where he could curl in on himself and shed the grief that was overtaking him.

  At her hand on his shoulder, he flinched. An automatic reaction he instantly regretted. More so when, without a word, she dropped her hand.

  Eventually she said, “I’m going to get dressed. She left him in the kitchen, his back still to her.

  Chapter Six

  “You’re still here.” Dressed in her favorite black skirt with matching black-trimmed gold jacket, Mary walked out to her living room in three-inch heeled black pumps, expecting to be alone.

  “Of course I’m still here. You didn’t think I’d just walk out, did you?”

  She might have hoped. She’d taken an extra-long time getting ready