“Then why bother taking them from the hospital?”
“Because they won’t stop ragging on you until you do,” she tossed back. “Don’t be such a hero, take the pills and rest. Over and over and over and when one isn’t enough, they send in your supervisor and another nurse and then…”
“What unit are you with, Catherine?” He asked curiously.
“Narcotics. I’ve seen what that crap does to people. What it can do…”
“Then you know – being the smart woman you are – what you’ve stored in your medicine cabinet would be a grand score for someone who had you pegged as a narcotics officer?” Aaron met the sullen look without balking. “They gave you ten little tablets, Catherine. I’m pretty sure you can’t develop a habit from ten pills. Have you ever had a drug problem?” He saw the answer flare instantly in her eyes. “Then why are you worried about not being in pain for a few days?”
“Damn it...now I’m going to be groggy for over twelve hours and my mouth will taste like cotton…” She looked up at the deep, rich laughter. “What’s so funny?”
“You…I’ll leave a glass of orange juice by the bed for you when I tuck you down, Catherine. I’ve been handling Anna and sleeping pills for years. Occasionally, she wears herself out and still refuses…” He shook his head. “You know…I would have sworn that last type I’d be attracted to would be…”
“Gee…now that’s a glowing endorsement…” She mumbled, groaning as she bent her knee and had to catch herself to keep from rubbing over the stitches. “You going to tell me about your drug involvement at four years old?”
“I would have negotiated before I had to resort to terrorist tactics,” he admitted with a casual shrug. “Now it’ll have to wait until another date…” He took the pizza boxes to the kitchen counter, dropped the empty cups into the sink and strode to her side. “Let me help you into the bedroom, Catherine…for my sanity, if nothing else.”
Aaron grinned at the sullen nod, her palm coming out. He knew she expected to be helped to her feet so when he simply leaned over and scooped her off the chair, he had to laugh at the floundering arms.
“Damn it…why do you…put me down! I’ve never been carried anywhere in my life and I don’t plan on…”
“Too late…you can’t say that anymore,” he told her, sitting her lightly on the bed before his hands framed her face and kissed her soundly. “I’ve got tons of early appointments. Can you come by for lunch tomorrow? I’m guessing you’re off work for a few days.”
Dark lashes blinked over violet eyes that deepened slightly when his mouth cruised over hers. “A week…then desk stuff…I’ve got rehab tomorrow. Wednesday would be good.”
“Then dinner tomorrow night?” Aaron pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to her. “Address of the office and my cell. How about I cook tomorrow?” He had to laugh at the stark surprise on her face. “Yeah, I can cook and enjoy it. Anna and I took turns growing up.”
“I can come to your place tomorrow for dinner,” she said with a smile. “I still hate you.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot from the women in my life,” Aaron backed toward the door.
“Should I ask how many there are?”
“Two…and you’re one of them. Good night, Catherine,” he turned and collected his jacket, making sure the doors were locked behind him and the lights out, a light whistle in the air as he sunk behind the wheel of his car.
Catherine wasn’t sure why she had been holding her breath. At the ripe old age of thirty-four, she’d been kissed enough times. But there was something about Aaron Carson that sent her body into a tailspin and her mind into shutdown.
It was stupid, she told herself, and still her fingers were up and touching her mouth as she hobbled back into the living room, sinking before the computer and accessing the station database. She pulled his address from the assault report, jotting it down on the pad next to her keyboard as she lifted her cell and hit the autodial for patrol.
Her request for increased patrols in his neighborhood was accepted without question. She laid the phone down, closed her eyes and sighed, knowing her time vertical was almost at an end. Using the cane, she returned to her bedroom, slid beneath the blankets and didn’t surface until sometime in the morning.
She didn’t know how and she didn’t know when, but the first thing her eyes fell on was the tall glass of orange juice on the nightstand. Still cold with floating ice cubes.
Catherine rolled to her back, staring at the ceiling for a long time, willing her brain and eyes to come back to full strength. Her hand was out padding the nightstand when the chime began, her throat raspy and mood worse as the cell went to her ear.
“Jenkins.”
“Good morning, beautiful,” Aaron leaned back in his chair, checked his watch and grinned at the growl.
“Breaking and entering is illegal, Carson.”
“Prove it, lieutenant,” he tossed back with a husky laugh. “Just checking to make sure you survived the night. I know you don’t want to hear it, but take it easy, okay? You can come over any time after four-thirty. Have a wonderful day, Catherine.”
She stared at the ceiling, snapped the phone shut and let it fall to the bed. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go until eleven. It’s the principal of the thing, she growled, pushing her elbows behind her and shoving her legs over the side of the bed. Steady fingers pulled the band free from her hair, letting the long strands fall around her face and ten fingers massaging against her scalp before she fell back and pulled the blankets up to her chin. So much for resolve.
Catherine flexed her knee and thigh shortly before ten. She’d rewrapped the gauze a little tighter around the whole thing, making a mental note to stop and pick up more before she returned home. She ate a slice of cold pizza, drank the juice and headed for the car, the cane tapping silently on the concrete outside her garage. Her glare deepened as the garage door came up and light filled the inside of the large room.
“Speed limits…safety for all.”
She ripped the post it off her windshield and stuffed it in her pocket. She was going to do a thorough diagnostic when she got home. Evidently there was a great deal more to Aaron Carson than met the eyes, she thought grudgingly.
By the time she was done being poked and stretched, she wanted to hit something. With all the strength of a pair of butterfly wings, she told herself with a tired sigh. They lectured her again that she had to build back the blood supply she’d leaked out.
It wasn’t until her hand went to the stick shift in the middle that she noticed the large frosty smoothie sitting in the cup holder. She bolted upright instantly, dark lashes scowling, narrowed and scanning everyone and everything within a few feet of her. Then she saw the post it on the side.
“Much more nutritional than a soda. See you later.”
“How the…I’ll kill him…” but only until her stomach let out with a protesting grumble letting her know that one slice of cold pizza wasn’t cutting it. She lifted the lid and sniffed at the orange colored icy liquid. Her tongue came out slowly, accepting the spoonful of smooth pineapple orange flavored perfection.
“Okay…so maybe I won’t kill him…just maim him a little…”
Chapter Fifteen
Aaron was still chuckling as he finished the alfredo and pasta, adding diced up chicken and checking the clock. He tossed in the small spears of broccoli after a brief debate. Getting to know someone…not just someone…the one…who was in definite need of someone in her life.
He liked working from home occasionally and knew Anna had a lot of things in her freezer he could safely steal. He checked the logs and she didn’t make it home last night, so Carter evidently took her safety as seriously as he did. He’d spent a lot of time between appointments staring and trying to figure out why anyone would want to have him pounded with a baseball bat, but there was absolutely nothing came to mind.
Aaron had left the window near the front door up a bit, the humming sound of her spor
ts car making a warm spot begin in his stomach and he grinned. Like a school boy, he thought, going to pull the door wide as she stepped from the low level car. For the briefest of instances, a picture, a moment flashed into his brain.
Catherine, pregnant and unable to get off the low seat of the sports car. Stubborn and sitting there, struggling for leverage until she finally let out a yell for him. For no known reason, he suddenly burst out laughing, a rich happy sound that rippled in the clouded afternoon.
“Well…that must have been some joke,” She came slowly around the back of the car, chirped it and tucked the keys into a wide pocket of her loose khaki pants.
“I’ll share it with you in a few days,” he promised, still chuckling as he stepped to the side and let her come inside. He made sure the locks were set and the alarm before escorting her into the social area. “How was therapy?”
“Annoying. Makes you grit your teeth and curse the idiot that got you there,” she grumbled, sinking into the padded, armed chair he escorted her to. She looked over the laid out table and then up at him. He still had pants that looked like they belonged to the suit he’d worn that day, the pale blue shirt open a couple buttons at his throat and the sleeves rolled to his elbows. And he didn’t have stuff splattered on it. “You did all this?”
“Amazing…isn’t it?” He set a plate of mozzarella cheese with sliced tomatoes between them and drizzled with balsamic vinegar and salt and pepper. “I probably should have asked what you didn’t like before I did this, but what the hell, there’s always the pizza people.”
She made a face at him, her leg stretched out as she reached for one of the cheese slices and tomato, biting down and sighing happily.
“Hmm…why do I have a feeling the best thing you ate today was the smoothie?” Aaron sat across from her, his lips tilted at the sudden memory to be pissed that filed her glare.
“How’d you get into my car? I’ve got a top of the line alarm on that baby,” she demanded as she reached for another thick slice of tomato and cheese.
“Can’t reveal my sources, sorry,” he answered, taking a bite of his own, unflinching at the continued glare.
“That’s a journalist. Not a financial planner,” she sulked, taking a bite and looking around the small area beside them, a large desk set up with a computer and diplomas hanging on the wall. “You’re a lawyer, too?”
“Boggles the mind, huh? So I can defend myself if you ever find proof that I’m behind the rash of break-ins on your personal belongings.”
“Seriously…you have a masters in financial analysis and planning…” Catherine pushed herself up and wandered to the wall, leaning on the cane and reading to herself as she walked. “Business law…and business…” She turned to stare at him, noticing the faint tinge of color in his cheeks. “You don’t hang these in your office because you don’t want people to know.”
“I got tired of explaining myself to people,” he said after a quiet minute of thought and another bite of the appetizer he’d prepared.
Catherine moved slowly back to her seat, her palm out and touching his where it rested on the table. “You don’t owe anyone explanations, Aaron.”
“That’s why they hang there instead of my office,” his hand flipped, their palms vertical and fingers twining. He smiled. “I figure I’ll explain one more time in my life…and that’ll be to you.”
“You don’t pull punches when you make up your mind, do you?”
“I haven’t seen a stop sign, Catherine. I haven’t…felt…a stop sign. You have that power, whether you know it or not,” Aaron stood up and went into the kitchen. “Given your eating habits, I hope you like pasta.”
“Secret powers didn’t give you that answer?” She teased, relieved when he carried a grin along with the plates he set on the table a few minutes later. “Oh, wow…you wage a serious campaign, Carson.”
“Find the weak point and exploit it, basic business,” he told her, returning to the fridge for the cold wine. “I wasn’t sure about this, though, since you’re driving and taking medication…”
“Unless I’m ambushed…the medication is at my apartment,” she tasted a forkful of the pasta with a long sigh. Then she caught the gleam on his face and frowned. “I…did you…you lifted my meds?”
“I haven’t said a thing. But I don’t guess a glass will make a difference,” he said with a shrug, pouring the sweet white wine before sinking down to enjoy dinner.
“Even the vegetables taste good,” she murmured, the crisp flavorful broccoli crunched on with a grin. “You did, didn’t you? You lifted my meds with intent…” Dark lashes narrowed over brilliant violet specks studying him.
“So…on with our peaceful date…” Aaron offered only a grin, lifting his glass to her. “To your continued good health.”
“Huh…”
“Even cops need a little mystery in their life now and again, Catherine,” he chuckled at the wrinkled nose she offered.
“Alright…then we return to the mystery you were going to tell me about over dinner,” she began casually. “How a four year old was involved in something drug related.”
“Hmm…I was…” He looked over at the empty plate. “There’s more…if you’re still hungry.”
“Will I look piggy if I say I’d love more?”
“I’m pretty sure a little extra meat on the bones wouldn’t be harmful in your case,” he said with a laugh, carrying her plate for the remaining pasta and cheesy crème sauce.
“That’s what the doctor said…a little more meat and he wouldn’t have sliced so much into your muscle,” she intoned in a deep voice, pale eyes rolled expressively.
“Doctors…wha’do they know…”
“Exactly,” she answered before catching herself on the humorous sarcasm.
“Since I had lunch with a client because you were otherwise engaged, I’m not nearly as hungry as you,” Aaron finished his pasta and took another medallion of cheese and tomato, dredging it in the vinegar before popping it into his mouth.
“I’m sure somewhere along there is a dig,” she murmured, but since he did feed her, she’d ignore it. For now.
“Never. Insult a girl with a weapon?”
“I’m not armed…” she said cautiously.
“Please. I have a sister. You girl’s find weapons in things that normal people would never consider,” he said with enough sincerity that she was laughing at his expression. “You went out after your rehab…” He didn’t think he’d ever tire of those wide violet circles watching him. “Your phone was off, but it left a location, Catherine,” he told her.
“Some girl urge…can’t shower and wanted my hair washed,” she took the final bite of pasta and set her fork down with a long sigh. “They give amazing feet massages,” she gestured to the freshly polished toes. “Same color as my car.”
“Ahh…another weakness…” Aaron poured more wine for them both, vaguely wondering how much was to steel himself to talk about times that he’d only ever shared with Anna. He quickly had the table cleaned, dishes in the dishwasher and only half a plate of appetizers remaining. He lifted one when he came back to the table, biting it in half thoughtfully. “I like the braid…Anna made me learn how to do that…I don’t think she got her haircut until she was about twelve. So she found this book at the library when we’re four and had it laid out on the floor…” He laughed at the memory, staring at the creamy cheese between his fingers. “There we were…on this faded carpet in the kid section of the library in the middle of the day. She’s holding this big book on her lap and pointing to how they said you should do it…one of the librarians felt sorry for me and came over to help. I’ve gotten longer fingers since then.”
“No parents?” Catherine asked gently. She saw so much love in his eyes when he spoke about his sister.
“We were birthed, if that’s what you want to call our parents,” he couldn’t keep the dry, contained anger from his voice and never tried. “I’m sure we had someone keeping us clean and
fed until we were about two. We learned to read and write about eighteen months…and talk…lots of educational shows to watch for that. We absorbed stuff like little sponges. Once we figured out reading, nothing was out of limits. We didn’t know the words, the uses, the meanings…not quite then in all cases, but we collected information nonstop. Between a computer and books…” His head shook slowly and he drew in a long, deep breath.
“Aaron…you don’t have to talk about this…” She straightened up without thinking, the groan low and turned into a growl.
“Easy…” He pulled himself up, standing and going to her side. “How about the livingroom? Sofa is long and you can stretch out your leg while we talk. I think I do need to talk about it…we’ve talked about it…not in a long time, but I think we had to get past something…the few times someone asked, they felt sorry for us. And we weren’t abused…and we never felt sorry for ourselves,” he lifted her arm and helped her to her feet, walking with her into the other room. He left her next to the sofa, turning a lamp on across the room and tapping the fireplace into life. He was too accustomed to keeping it cold but he’d felt the tiny bumps on her arm when she shivered next to him.
“I…I guess I can’t understand…two little kids…four years old…” She moved to the corner and stretched her right leg along the inside of the sofa. It was large, with high, well cushioned arms and deep pockets of comfort. “And adults who allowed it to exist…but that really shouldn’t be a surprise to me after some things I’ve seen.”
“I guess we had pockets of…I wish…you know, when you see people, families or a mom or dad with a child…we wondered what it would have been like,” he sat on the edge of the sofa, her foot tucked neatly behind him when he leaned back, both long legs stretched out before him. “But with the exception of what we saw on television, until we were four, we didn’t know it should have been different. Our birthday is in March…just come April, we figured out how to get out the window. “He laughed at the look on her face.
WindSwept Narrows: #16 Anna Carson & Catherine Jenkins Page 12
