The all-business persona faded as quickly as it had arrived. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, as if she didn't dare stare directly. Quite a contrast of personalities. Deliberate or unconscious? Then he reminded himself he'd spent nearly three days staring at the same four walls. His family had stopped by to visit, but it wasn't enough to fill the hours. He didn't care if Holly was a serial killer. He was grateful for her company, whatever her motives.
She took her plate and set it on her lap. He cut a piece of steak and tasted it. The meat was cooked perfectly.
"Great," he said when he'd swallowed, then leaned back. "So, Holly Garrett, cat owner, how'd you find me?"
"I went to the fire station. I thought I could leave the cookies with one of the men there and they would deliver them."
"Fat chance. They would have been devoured in thirty seconds."
She smiled. "That's what the captain on duty told me. He gave me your address. I hope you don't mind."
"It's fine. Glenwood is a small town. Everyone knows everyone. That's why I moved back."
"Where did you move from?"
"Sacramento. I'd grown up in Glenwood. When I decided to become a fire fighter, I left."
She cut some broccoli and speared it with her fork. "Don't they have a training academy here?"
"The county does. But that wasn't the problem. My father was the sheriff. His father was a cop, all my uncles are cops. I'm one of four boys, and the other three are all cops."
"You were expected to be a policeman, too." It wasn't a question.
"Exactly." He remembered the fights he'd had with his old man. His brothers had teased him about his choice, but they'd supported his decision. Not Earl Haynes. His father had threatened to disown him. By that time Jordan hadn't cared much about his father's opinion. Not after everything the old man had done.
Holly tilted her head slightly. "Are you happy with what you do?"
"Yes. But I didn't like being away from my brothers and their families. So I put in an application here. When a position for fire captain opened up, I got the job." He grinned. "One of my brothers, Travis, is the sheriff. He never said anything, but I suspect he put in a good word for me."
Holly laughed softly. The sweet sound penetrated his chest and, for a moment, thawed some of the cold he felt there. Then the laughter faded, and her eyes darkened with an emotion he could only label as sadness.
Don't be a fool, Haynes, he told himself. He didn't know this woman well enough to be reading her emotions.
"Your family sounds wonderful," Holly said, the tone of her voice confirming his guess. "I can understand why you would move back to be near them. How long have you been here?"
"About six months."
"That's when I got here, too."
"What brought you to Glenwood? It's not exactly a bustling metropolis."
"My mother and I inherited a store."
So she wasn't a nurse. "Which one?"
"An antique store across from the park. Now it's called A Victorian Parlor."
He remembered seeing the shop after it had opened. "When I'm feeling better, I'm going to be working on restoring this old place. Maybe I should come by."
"Definitely." She leaned forward. "The store specializes in Victorian pieces, with a whole section on restoration. There are books of wallpaper, both reproductions of old prints, as well as Victorian inspired. I can order fixtures, faucets, even disguised switch covers. As far as the restoration books go, a few are for sale, but mostly I loan them out. That's one of the things I like about Glenwood. There are so many old homes that people are restoring."
She hung on to her plate with one hand and gestured with the other. Enthusiasm filled her voice.
"You like your work," he said.
"I love it."
"Then I'll come into the store and get your help."
"I'd like that."
Their eyes met. She bit her lower lip and turned away. Jordan studied her. Part of him wanted her to be as shy and innocent as she seemed; another part of him hoped it was an act. If she was playing a role, then he wouldn't like her – and that would be easier for him. Mostly because he didn't want to admit being attracted to Holly Garrett.
"I remember that place being empty for a long time. When did you and your mother inherit the store?"
"My mom's aunt passed away about five years ago. She's the one who left it to us." She toyed with the last piece of steak, then pushed it away and set the plate on the floor. "My mother was ill for several years. She had breast cancer that kept coming back. We talked about the antique store. It was our joint dream." Holly leaned back in the chair and folded her hands on her lap. "After she died three years ago, I paid off the rest of the medical bills, then saved money. When I had enough, I moved up here."
She told the story simply. Jordan knew there were many details she'd left out. He wondered about family. Was she an only child? Where was her father in all this? But he didn't like questions, and he wasn't about to force her to answer his. At least part of the mystery was explained. If her mother had been ill for a long time, Holly would have become familiar with hospitals. No wonder she could do a great nurse imitation.
"Do you like owning your own business?" he asked.
"I love it. When I was still in high school, I had a part-time job working in an antique store. After I graduated, I worked there full-time. I know a lot about antiques, restoration. One day I want to buy an old place like this and restore it from the ground up."
"Two of my brothers have houses like this. Travis has finished his. Kyle and Sandy are still wrestling with plumbing upgrades. When I'm up and around, I can show you the houses if you'd like."
"That would be wonderful. What are you going to do with this house?"
"I'm not sure. In some of the rooms I'm stripping paint off the original molding. You wouldn't believe what people do to beautiful wood."
"Tell me about it. I've seen some horrible things. It should be illegal." She moved her chair a little closer to his bed. "Once I went to an estate sale. A woman had covered every piece of furniture with gold paint. It was appalling."
Holly continued with her story, but Jordan was having trouble concentrating. He stared at her face. When she'd visited him in the hospital, he'd noticed her freckles and the fact that she didn't wear much makeup. Today was the same. Her lashes were darkened with mascara, but other than that, she was as clean scrubbed as a ten-year-old.
He watched her full lips move as she spoke. Enthusiasm made her eyes sparkle. Her arms moved, and with them, her body. His gaze was drawn to her chest. She was definitely this side of curvy. Her breasts would spill out of his hands, but he didn't think he would mind all that much.
He fought down a grin. His family and friends considered him reclusive and brooding. Occasionally he bordered on surly. So what the hell was this woman doing in his house? And why was he so pleased to be in her company?
"When you're ready to strip wallpaper, let me know," she said. "I have a steamer that works like magic." She glanced at the high ceilings. "Even with that, in some of the rooms it's going to take days."
"I'll get my brothers to help me," he said. "I've helped them enough times."
"You're one of four, right?"
He nodded.
"That's nice." She sighed. "I always wanted a big family, but it was just my mom and me."
Holly was alone. Jordan didn't know what that felt like. Many times he found himself standing on the outside of family activities. Watching rather than participating. But that was about him, not about the family. He always had a place to go where he was welcome. He couldn't imagine a world where no one cared about him.
"There's no husband lurking in the background? Or a jealous boyfriend? I'm not in a position to have to defend myself."
She blushed. "Hardly. I haven't really had time for that sort of thing."
What sort of thing had she had time for?
Leave it alone, Haynes, he told himself. She wasn't the
woman for him. He'd wondered if the innocent act was real. Now he had a bad feeling it was. Wholesome. Just as he'd first thought.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Twenty-eight."
Twenty-eight and never been kissed. He pushed the rolling table to one side. That was unlikely. Holly had been kissed. How could she look the way she did and not have been kissed? She probably had a trail of men drooling after her everywhere she went.
"Have you met a lot of people in Glenwood?" he asked. He meant men, of course, but asking that directly would be rude. Not to mention the fact that it would imply an interest he didn't have.
Liar, a voice in his head yelled. He ignored it.
"Some. People who come into my store are nice. I know my landlord, of course. I've made a couple of friends."
She looked away from him as he spoke, and he knew in that instant she was lying. She hadn't made a lot of friends, but she didn't want him feeling sorry for her.
He thought about the women his brothers had married. All of them were terrific and friendly. He had a feeling if he mentioned Holly to them, they would take her under their wings and draw her into the group. Or at least help her feel less alone. But Holly might not want him interfering.
Before he could ask or offer, she rose and collected their dinner plates. "Would you like some coffee?" she asked.
"That would be great. Oh, and some of those cookies you brought."
She gave him a quick smile, then headed out of the room. He watched the sway of her hips as she walked, and felt a stirring deep inside. He ignored it, just as he ignored the flicker of interest and the sensation of being intrigued. It had been a long time since a woman had caught his attention.
He reminded himself there was a price to be paid for getting involved. A price for caring. He wasn't willing to pay that again. But that wasn't what this was about. Holly was keeping him company. Nothing more. Soon she would leave, and he wouldn't have to see her again. Bad enough to risk getting involved with any woman. Worse to risk the heart of an innocent.
* * *
Chapter 3
« ^ »
Holly brought in coffee and a plate of cookies. While she'd been in the kitchen, she'd removed her apron. Jordan tried to ignore her curves and his body's natural reaction to them. Aside from the fact that they were strangers, he was in no condition to act on any impulses, however pleasant the fantasy.
"I didn't know how you liked it," she said as she set the tray on the table across his bed. "There's milk and sugar." She motioned to the small containers next to the plate of cookies.
"Black is fine."
She picked up her cup, added milk, stirred, then took her seat "How do you feel?" she asked.
He shrugged, then grimaced as muscles in his back protested. "Like I was thrown off the side of a building."
Instead of smiling, she grew solemn with concern. "I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"Yes, it is." She leaned toward him and placed her cup on the table. "I shouldn't have asked you to go back and rescue Mistletoe. When I think about it now…" She swallowed. Her blue eyes darkened with an emotion he couldn't read. "You could have been killed."
"I wouldn't have gone in if I'd been in that much danger."
"Really?"
He nodded. "I like what I do for a living, but I don't have a death wish."
She gave him a faint smile. "She's all I have left from my mother. Mistletoe was a gift to me the Christmas before Mom died. I'm very grateful for what you did." Her voice was husky.
Somehow, in all the moving around her chair had slid closer to the bed. Now, if she leaned forward as she was doing now, her hands rested on the edge of the mattress. A single strand of blond hair hung down by her cheek. The wisp brushed against her skin, but she didn't seem to notice. His gut clenched as he wondered if she was going to cry. He freely admitted he was a typical male, completely knocked off balance by female tears.
"Just doing my job," he said lightly.
She responded with a smile. "What made you want to do that rather than become a police officer like the rest of your family?"
He pushed the controls and lowered the bed a little, then tucked one hand behind his head. "When I was about eight or nine, a house in the neighborhood caught fire. I watched the fire department at work. I'd never really understood what my father and uncles did. I knew from television they were supposed to catch the bad guys, but Glenwood isn't a hotbed of criminal activity. The sheriff's department acts more as a deterrent than a crime-solving organization. But I could see what the fire fighters did, and I was impressed. That stayed with me."
He reached for his coffee. That wasn't the only reason. Growing up, he'd also watched his old man. By the time he was twelve, he knew he didn't want to be anything like his father. Earl Haynes had a reputation for being a ladies' man.
Jordan swore silently. It wasn't just the women his father flaunted. It was the disrespect for everyone else. No one mattered, and nothing was important but Earl's pleasures. He often hit the boys for no reason, then told them to consider themselves punished in advance of their next mistake. Jordan's brothers had been able to look past the man and carry on the family tradition of law enforcement, but not Jordan.
He could feel his anger building. Even after all this time, his father still got to him. He wondered if that would ever change.
"Jordan? Are you feeling all right?" Holly's voice was concerned. She rose and touched her palm to his forehead. With her other hand she took his wrist and felt his pulse. "Slightly elevated," she murmured, "but you don't feel hot."
She pressed the back of her hand against his cheek, then touched his earlobe. He figured if she kept that up much longer, he could really show her an elevated pulse.
"Do you want a painkiller or are you due for some other medication?"
"I'm fine," he said. "Relax."
He was fine. Since getting out of the hospital, he'd grown used to the dull ache in his body. He'd wanted to give up his prescriptions altogether, but he needed the medication to sleep at night. During the day he did without.
She released his hand, sank back in her chair and continued to study him. Gone was the blushing innocent. He liked the contrast of competence and shyness almost as much as he liked her freckles.
She gave him a half smile. "I should leave so you can get some rest."
"I'd prefer that you kept me company. It gets pretty boring lying here all day."
"You've got Louise."
Rather than answer that, he reached for his coffee.
Holly opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, there was a noise from the kitchen. She stood up and turned toward the sound.
"I'm back," Louise called.
Figures, Jordan grumbled to himself.
Holly glanced at her watch. "Goodness. I didn't realize how long I'd been here. You must be exhausted. I'm so sorry. You should have said something." She twisted her fingers together. "My only excuse is that I've been spending too much time on my own. Mistletoe is a sweetie, but she's not much for conversation."
She was babbling. He liked it. It meant she was nervous and unsure of herself. Better than that, it meant she liked him. He wanted her to like him.
He heard footsteps in the hallway, then Louise stepped into the room. Her eyebrows arched in surprise.
"You two seem to be getting along. Everything all right?"
"It's my fault," Holly said quickly. "After dinner I—"
Jordan didn't know how else to shut her up. He reached out and grabbed her hand. She turned and stared at him. He ignored her.
"Everything is fine," he told the housekeeper. "How was your class?"
Now both women were staring at him. He figured he had Holly's attention because of the incredibly hot sparks arcing between their clasped hands. He'd never felt anything like it before, and he sure as hell didn't know what it meant. He also wasn't going to let go, because he had a feeling if he did, she would bolt. He
wanted to make sure she was going to come back and see him again.
Louise stared at him because his question was the first civil comment he'd spoken since she arrived. For a moment he wondered if it was really so necessary to be such a bastard around her. Then he reminded himself of all she'd done and how many lives she'd torn apart, and he knew she deserved all that and more. The fact that she was doing a nice thing by looking after him was something he would have to learn to ignore.
"The professor barely looks old enough to have to shave every day, but he lectures real nice," Louise said cautiously.
"I should go," Holly said, tugging her fingers free.
Jordan didn't want to let her go. For one incredibly stupid moment he wished he could stand up and kiss her. If he'd been on medication, he would have said it was the drugs talking, but he hadn't had anything since the previous evening. So it was the boredom or the pain. Or maybe it was the fact that outside his family, he didn't have many friends. He liked Holly. She was someone he could be friends with.
Even as he thought the statement, he half expected to be zapped by lightning. Sure, he wanted to be friends with her. That's why he'd spent half the evening staring at her curves.
"Come back tomorrow," he said without thinking.
Holly's full lips turned up at the corners. "I'd like that," she said softly.
He smiled. Her reaction was instant. Her mouth parted and her breathing increased. He saw the faint tremor that rippled through her body. He'd never much wanted it, but apparently he still had it. The infamous whatever that made Haynes men popular with the ladies. Years before he'd used it to get whatever he wanted, but he'd grown up and the game had lost its appeal.
He turned off the smile, and Holly blinked, as if she were awakening from a spell. She gave him a quick wave and walked from the room. Louise followed. Jordan was left alone in the silence.
He would have to be careful. Despite his preoccupation with her curves, be liked Holly and he would be grateful for her company. But only as his friend. He didn't want anything more. He knew the truth about romantic entanglements. He'd learned it from an expert. Despite all the songs and movies about the joys of falling in love, the truth was that love hurt.
HOLLY AND MISTLETOE Page 3
