“Good idea,” her father said, buttering a fluffy biscuit.
“I’ve got some time this morning if you need any last-minute help getting ready for the first drove of campers,” her mother offered, as she set a bowl of scrambled eggs and a second platter of bacon in the center of the table.
“Everything’s under control, Mom,” Jewel said.
“When do you go to the airport?” her father asked.
“The flight from Dallas arrives at 9:30 this morning with about a half-dozen kids,” she replied. “There’s another half dozen and the two counselors arriving from Houston shortly afterward. Mac has volunteered to go with me in the van to pick them up. I invited him to join us for breakfast,” she said. “I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course it’s all right,” her mother replied. “It’ll be nice to visit with him. We’ve barely seen hide or hair of either of you. What have you been doing?”
“Mac’s been walking in the mornings—”
“Is his ankle better?” Colt asked.
“What’s wrong with his ankle?” her father asked.
Colt got busy scooping another spoonful of eggs on his plate and sent a pleading look toward Jewel not to betray him.
“He tripped and twisted it yesterday,” Jewel said. “It seems to be all right this morning.”
“It’s fine,” Mac said as he opened the screen door and stepped into the kitchen. “How’s everyone this morning?”
He was greeted with a chorus of smiles and “hellos” and “hi’s.”
Jewel feasted her eyes on him. His blond hair was still damp from the shower, and the rugged planes of his face were shadowed by a day’s growth of beard, so he hadn’t even stopped to shave. He must have been afraid of missing breakfast. He was wearing a Western shirt tucked into beltless, butter-soft jeans and cowboy boots.
She looked up at him defiantly, daring him not to like what he saw. He was the one who had wanted change. She had provided it. He had better not complain.
Jewel saw nothing in his blue eyes but admiration. That flustered her as much, and perhaps more than the opposite reaction. She hadn’t been ready for the blatant male appreciation of her figure that she found on his face.
“I hope I’m not too late for breakfast,” he said as he slipped into the last empty chair, which happened to be across from Jewel.
“Just in time,” Zach said.
Jewel could feel Mac’s eyes on her but kept her gaze lowered as she ate her scrambled eggs. It was going to take some time for her to adjust to having men look at her with sexual interest. It was all right when Mac did it, because she did not feel frightened by him. But he was right. If she wanted to get over the past, this was a start in the right direction.
She heard Mac exchange comments with her father about the cattle and cutting horse businesses that supported Hawk’s Pride, listened to him discuss football with Colt, smiled along with him as he teased Rabbit about his nickname, which dated from his childhood when he had loved carrots. Mac obviously knew her family well, and they apparently liked him as much as he liked them.
Jewel felt a rush of guilt at having deprived Mac of their company all these years. Having been Mac’s friend, she knew how hard it was for his own family to treat him normally. His parents and older sister, Sadie, had hovered over him long after he was well, afraid to let him try things for fear he would get hurt and end up back in the hospital.
Zach and Rebecca loved Mac like a son, but they hadn’t spent years with him in a hospital setting where he was fighting for his life against a disease that killed kids. They were willing to let him do a man’s work. Jewel knew Mac had needed his summers as a counselor at Camp LittleHawk as much as Zach and Rebecca had needed his help with the kids.
“Right, Jewel?”
Jewel looked up at Mac, startled to realize he was speaking to her. “Excuse me. I wasn’t listening. What was the question?”
Her family laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, looking at them suspiciously.
“I said the reason the kids keep coming back year after year is that you’re constantly making changes to keep things interesting,” Mac said with a grin.
Jewel realized that this year she had made a huge change that was bound to be noticed—by the other counselors, if not the kids. One of the reasons she loved working with kids was that they never seemed to notice her ample bosom. “Change is good,” she said, both chin and chest outthrust defiantly.
“Of course it is, darling,” her mother said in a soothing voice.
“I wasn’t complaining, Jewel,” Mac said, his gaze staying level with hers.
She kept waiting for it to drop to her breasts. But it never did. There was nothing sexual in his gaze now. What she saw was approval and appreciation of her as a person. A thickness in her throat made it hard to speak. “We’d better get going,” she said. “We don’t want to be late to the airport.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Mac said, pushing back from the table. “Thanks for the breakfast, Rebecca. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a meal so much. It’s great to be back.”
“It’s great to have you back,” Zach said, rising and putting a hand on Mac’s shoulder as he walked him to the door.” You’re welcome anytime.”
“Thanks, Zach,” Mac said, shaking hands with the older man.
Jewel felt exposed once she and Mac emerged from the throng of hugging and backslapping brothers and sisters and parents and headed across the backyard toward the van.
She felt Mac’s gaze trained on her again, intense, disturbing, because this time he was obviously looking at more than her face. She paused as soon as they were hidden by a large bougainvillea and turned to confront him.
She propped her balled hands on her hips, thrust her shoulders back and held her chin high. “All right, Mac. You were the one who asked for this. Look your fill and get it over with.”
His lips curved. His eyes surveyed her intently. His voice turned whiskey rough as he said, “You could stand there till doomsday, and I wouldn’t get my fill of looking at you.”
Jewel would have scoffed, but the sound got caught in her throat. “Mac…”
He stepped close enough to put them toe to toe.
She struggled not to give ground. “Say what you think. Spit it out. I can take it.”
His thumb caressed the faint scars on her bared cheek, then edged into her hair. “Your hair’s so soft. So shiny. So sleek.” His hand slid through her hair to capture her nape and hold her still as he lowered his head. “I find you irresistible, Jewel.”
Jewel felt her heart thudding, had trouble catching her breath, then stopped breathing altogether as his mouth closed over hers.
He kept their bodies separated, touching her only with his mouth. The searing kiss was enough to curl her toes inside her boots.
He lifted his head and said, “Welcome back, Jewel. I missed the old you.”
“Oh, Mac—” She was on the verge of blurting out her strong feelings for him—the same feelings his kiss had suggested he had for her—when he interrupted.
“I don’t think you’re going to have any trouble at all attracting the man of your dreams.” He smile ruefully. “You’re going to have to remind me to keep my distance. I don’t want any good prospects to think I have any kind of claim on you except as a friend.”
Jewel stared at him with stunned eyes, but quickly recovered her composure. “No sweat, Mac,” she said, turning and heading for the van. “I’ll make sure any men I meet know exactly where you stand.”
She owed Mac too much to make him feel uncomfortable by revealing her new feelings for him before he was ready to hear them. But if kissing her like this only reinforced the bonds of friendship, she had her work cut out for her. The changes in her hair and wardrobe had been useful in helping Mac to see her as a desirable female. All she had to do now was figure out how to make him fall in love with her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MAC STARED OUT T
HE WINDOW OF the van at the flat grassland that lined the road between Hawk’s Pride and the airport, rather than at the woman behind the wheel. But he very much wanted to feast his eyes on Jewel.
He liked the bouncy new haircut that showed off the line of her chin and made her cheekbones more prominent. He liked the formfitting clothes that outlined a lush figure he yearned to hold close to his own. He was intrigued by the sparkle of wonder and delight—and unfulfilled promise—in her dark brown eyes.
Mac wished he had a Stetson to set on his lap.
He hadn’t realized he would be so physically susceptible to the striking change in Jewel’s appearance. A friend would have settled for giving her an approving pat on the back. His kiss had been a purely male impulse, an effort to stake his claim on an intensely desirable female.
Mac recognized his problem. He simply had no idea how to solve it. How did a man stop desiring a woman? Especially one he not only lusted after but also liked very much?
Jewel sat across from him behind the wheel not saying a word. But speaking volumes.
Tension radiated between them. Sexual tension.
He had told her to find another man, but now he wasn’t so sure. She had certainly seemed to enjoy his kiss. Maybe if he seduced her in stages…If they took it slow and easy…
Who was he kidding? When it came down to the nitty-gritty, it was still going to be the first time for him. He was still going to be guessing at what he was doing. Besides, it wasn’t fair to change his mind at this late date.
Who said life was fair?
“I appreciate you coming along to help today,” Jewel said, interrupting his thoughts.
“My pleasure. How many people are we picking up?”
“Twelve kids, two counselors.”
“Are you still hiring college kids?”
“Patty Freeburg is still in college. Gavin Talbot is in graduate school. I should warn you, this group of kids includes Brad Templeton.”
“The kid who wanted to meet me?”
Jewel nodded. “His leukemia is in its second remission. You know how that works. You’re afraid to get your hopes up that this remission will last, because you’ve already slipped out of remission once.”
“You have to keep believing you can beat the disease,” Mac said.
“Most kids aren’t as lucky as you were.”
“You think it was luck that I beat myelocytic leukemia?” he asked.
“Statistics say the chances of a kid surviving that kind of leukemia aren’t good. What else could it have been?”
“Sheer determination. Willpower. It can move mountains. Recently it put me back on my own two feet when the doctors said I would never walk again without a brace.”
“Granted, willpower is important. Determination counts for a lot. But are they enough to get your leg back into shape for pro football?” Jewel asked.
Mac felt a spurt of panic. “Sure. Why not?”
“Willpower can’t replace the missing muscle in your leg, Mac. Determination can’t make the scars disappear.”
“I can compensate.”
She nodded. “For your sake, I hope so.”
“Why are you being so negative about this?” Mac demanded, using anger to force back the fear that had surfaced with her doubts.
“I’m not being negative, just realistic. You learn to accept—”
“Don’t accept anything that isn’t exactly what you want. Don’t expect anything less than the best for yourself or those sick kids, Jewel. You deserve it. And so do they.”
Jewel smiled ruefully. “To tell the truth, this is an argument I don’t want to win. I want to believe in happily ever after for these kids and for you. And I’m hoping desperately for it myself. I’ve taken the first steps toward a new me. I have to admit it feels good, even though it is a little scary.”
He met her glance briefly and saw the fear, before she returned her gaze to the road in front of her. “Why scary?”
“Because I’m not sure how well I’ll handle all the male attention once I have it.”
“Encourage the men you’re interested in, and discourage the ones you don’t want.”
She grunted her disgust. “You make it sound so easy. Encourage how? Discourage how?”
“Smiles. And frowns.”
Jewel looked at him incredulously, then gave a bubbly laugh. “If it were only that simple!”
“It is,” Mac assured her.
She eyed him doubtfully. “That’s all there is to it?”
“Why not try an experiment? When this Gavin What’s-his-name—”
“Talbot,” Jewel provided.
“When Talbot gets off the plane, give him a ‘You’re the one!’ smile, and see what kind of response you get.”
They had arrived at the local airport just as the commuter plane from Dallas was landing. Jewel stopped the van close to the terminal and stepped out to wait for the plane door to open and the kids to come down the portable stairs to the tarmac.
The three girls and four boys on the Dallas flight all wore hats of some kind, a means of hiding the ravages of chemotherapy on their hair. Baseball caps, berets, slouch hats, straw hats, bandannas, Jewel had seen them all. Beneath the hats their eyes looked haunted, their mouths grim. Jewel looked forward to easing their worries for two weeks, to helping them forget for a short time that their lives were threatened with extinction.
A scuffle broke out between two of the boys the instant they reached the tarmac. The other kids spread out in a circle to watch.
“Hey!” Jewel cried, running to reach them.
Mac was there before her and picked up the boy who had done the shoving, leaving the other boy with no one to fight. “What’s the problem?” Mac asked in a calm voice.
The boy on the tarmac was in tears. He pointed to the boy in Mac’s arms. “He said I’m going to die.”
“We’re all going to die,” Mac replied. “Could get hit by a bus tomorrow.”
The other kids smiled. It was an old joke for them, but it still worked every time.
The crying boy was not amused. He pointed to the kid in Mac’s arms. “He said I can’t beat it. He said no one can. He said—”
Mac perused the thin, gangly boy held snug against his side. “Doesn’t look like a doctor to me,” he said. “Where do you suppose he got the information to make his diagnosis? You a doctor?” Mac asked the kid.
The boy clenched his teeth and said nothing.
“Guess that settles that,” Mac said. “Any other questions?” he asked the crying boy.
The kid wiped his nose on the shoulder of his T-shirt and pulled his Harwell Grain and Feed cap snugly over his eyes. “Guess not.”
Mac exchanged a look with Jewel, who began herding the children toward the terminal.
“Why don’t you all come inside with me,” she said. “We’ll get a soda while we wait for the kids from Houston to arrive, along with your counselors.”
As soon as they were gone, Mac set the boy down on his feet in front of him. Knowing the kid would likely run the instant he let go, Mac settled onto one knee, his hands trapping the kid’s frail shoulders, and tried to see the boy’s eyes under his baseball cap. The kid’s chin was tucked so close to his chest, it was impossible.
“What’s your name?” Mac asked.
“I want to go home.”
“You sound pretty mad.”
“I never wanted to come here in the first place. My mom made me!”
“Why’d you tell that boy he was going to die?”
“’Cause he is!”
“Who says?”
“He’s got acute myelocytic leukemia, same as me. It kills you for sure!”
“I’m not dead.”
The boy’s chin jerked up, and his pale blue eyes focused on Mac’s. “You’re not sick.”
“I was. Same as you.”
The boy shook his head. “But you’re—”
“I’m Mac Macready.”
The blue eyes widened. “You
’re him? You look different from the picture on your trading card.”
“I was younger then,” Mac replied. And twenty pounds heavier with muscle.
“My mom said you’d be here, but I didn’t believe her.”
“You must be Brad Templeton.” Mac let go of the kid’s shoulders, rose and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Brad.”
The boy stared at Mac’s hand suspiciously before he laid his own tiny palm against it. Mac figured the kid for eleven or twelve, but he didn’t look much more than eight or nine. The slight body, the gaunt cheeks, the hopeless look in his eyes, told how the disease had decimated him—body and soul.
“You ready to join the others?” Mac asked.
He watched as the boy looked toward the kids bunched in the front window of the terminal and made a face. “This is a waste of time.”
“Why is that?”
“I mean, why bother pretending everything is all right, when it’s not?”
Mac put a hand on the boy’s back, and they began walking toward the terminal. “Why not pretend? Why not enjoy every moment you’ve got?”
The boy met his gaze, and Mac knew the answer without having to hear it. He had been through it all himself.
This was a child going through the stages that prepared him for death. The anger. The grieving. And finally, the acceptance. Brad Templeton had done it all before, when the first remission ended. Then death had given him a brief reprieve—a second remission. But having once accepted the fact he was going to die, it was awfully hard to start living all over again.
“Death doesn’t always win,” Mac said quietly.
Brad looked up at him. “How did you beat it?”
“Determination. Willpower.”
Brad shook his head. “That isn’t enough. If it was, I’d already be well.”
“Don’t give up.”
“I have to,” Brad said. “It hurts too bad to hope when you know it isn’t going to make any difference.”
They had reached the door to the terminal, but before going inside, Mac stooped down and turned the boy to face him. “Sometimes you have to forget about what the doctors say and believe in yourself.”
Hawk's Way Grooms Page 10
