by Julie Miller
But she was no lady fair.
Simon’s actions had told her as much.
The fanciful images drifted away in the face of reality. She’d better get Josh doctored up and out of here before she did something she’d regret. The attraction she was feeling probably had a lot to do with gratitude. And a little to do with loneliness. In her years of helping clients deal with problematic relationships, she knew gratitude could often be confused for attraction. She knew loneliness sometimes made people do uncharacteristic things.
Despite the vulnerability she’d been feeling ever since receiving that note from Daddy, she was smart enough to know not to confuse her emotions. She could objectively appreciate Josh’s boyish grin and rugged good looks. She was an older woman, not a dead one, after all. And she was grateful for his timely intervention and insistence on seeing her safely home. But that didn’t mean he could provide any other emotional support for her.
She knew how humiliating and soul-draining it could be to fall for the wrong man. She wouldn’t let her common sense get carried away on a tide of ill-conceived feelings and misfiring hormones.
Josh Tanner was handsome. He was a hero.
But he wasn’t hers.
By the time she’d retrieved the supplies she needed, shredded an old cotton sheet, and knelt in front of him again, she had her head on straight and her hormones firmly in check.
Right.
She propped Josh’s hand on her shoulder to ease the strain on his sore muscles and reached behind his back to wrap the first cotton strip around him. The tip of her nose brushed against his bunched-up sweater and Rachel inhaled again the masculine scents of wool and winter and man. But she also caught a whiff of something distinctly more pungent.
Rachel leaned back and breathed in fresh air, clearing her sinuses of the unexpected smell.
Marijuana.
She wrapped the second band of cotton around his torso and sniffed again. The odor was very faint, but distinct.
Her imagined white knight just slipped off his horse.
“So, Mr. Tanner—Josh,” she amended before he could correct her. “What were you doing out on campus in the middle of the night?”
Maybe she imagined the slight hitch in the muscles around his chest. She didn’t imagine the uncustomary pause. Her smooth-talking patient was searching for words. “I was at a party.”
A pot party. So many young people drank too much and smoked too much and abused their bodies in ways they shouldn’t. David Brown and several of her clients leapt to mind. But Josh had seemed like such a fit, health-conscious young man. It surprised her to learn that her wounded hero took those risks. Or at the very least, associated with others who did.
“By yourself?” She leaned in again to pull the bandage tightly enough to offer support without constricting his breathing. She was close enough to feel the heat emanating from his bare skin. Close enough to hide the disappointment that must be reflected in her expression.
“I told you I was unattached. The party bored me, so I left.” His deep voice had lost the humor that gave it that sexy, musical lilt. This tone was taunting, laced with danger. It rumbled at such a different timbre that it distracted her from his intent, until she felt the two fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his. “What were you doing on campus in the middle of the night?”
Avoiding being home alone. Trying to spot the jerk who threatened my baby. His eyes were clear, crystal blue, reflecting no sign of drug use. Her relief at reaffirming he was clean was tempered by the unblinking concern in his gaze that demanded the truth. She offered one version of it. “I was working late.”
He made no comment when she shifted her chin from his touch and resumed her doctoring. She wound the strip of cotton two more times before he spoke again.
“Why would David and his buddies want to attack you? It looked like more than a simple mugging to me.”
“Drop the inquisition, Josh.” She reached for the elastic gauze on the coffee table. “My business with David is confidential.”
“Apparently so. Is that why you didn’t want to call the cops?”
She looked up on her own then. Nailed him with a stern glare and a raised eyebrow. She fought the urge to put more than those few short inches of distance between them.
“You didn’t want to call the cops, either. With the smell of pot on you, I’m not surprised.” For an instant his expression hardened, giving her the fleeting impression of a man more weary of the world than that second-row hotshot who breezed his way through life would be. But he never responded to her subtle accusation. Rachel went back to work. “David’s problem is an academic matter. It’s being handled through the proper channels.”
He nodded. “A, I don’t do drugs. And B, I hope those channels work fast enough to keep you safe from any more drunken threats.”
Believing his assertion about the drugs, she offered a bit of an explanation for her own actions. “I’m trying to keep a low profile right now. Dean Jeffers is looking to name a new assistant dean for the College of Arts and Science. Someone to oversee academic advising, work with alumni, that sort of thing. I’m one of the three final candidates.”
“Congratulations. Who else is up for the job?”
“Curt Norwood. He’s a psychologist from the Criminal Justice Studies department. Gwen Sargent from Theater.”
“You’d get my vote.”
Rachel clicked her tongue behind her teeth, her effort at masking a laugh making her sound unexpectedly matronly. “Your views are probably more liberal than Dean Jeffers’. He’s still trying to figure out whether or not he approves of single parenthood.”
Josh’s eyes widened at her last comment, and again she wondered if she’d crossed the line from professional to personal by revealing her relationship status.
“He can’t hold your pregnancy against you, can he?”
“Legally, no.” Rachel shrugged and focused on Josh’s injury instead of her worries over a possible promotion and the job security it would provide. “But the selection will probably come down to what kind of image we can project for the college. Alumni donors like to see their money supporting cutting-edge research and intellectual, moral teachers who can shape the leaders of the future. Their donations go to help the best and brightest of students. They want a good show for their money, not controversy.”
“That’s why you’re being so strict about fraternization, aren’t you?”
“It’s not just for appearances, Josh. It’s never right for a teacher to take advantage of a student.”
“Or vice versa.” The hand on her shoulder squeezed in a gentle prelude to the warning he was about to issue. “David threatened you. Even if he was drunk and not in control of his faculties, he’s still accountable for his actions.”
“I have bigger problems to deal with than David, believe me.” She pulled his comforting hand away before she gave in to the urge to rub her cheek against it. She thought of the wadded-up note from Daddy, still buried deep in her coat pocket. If it had been nothing more than a prank intended to rattle her, it had succeeded. If it was intended as something more…
Rachel shuddered. But she pushed the thought aside and pulled away just as Josh’s fingers began to close around hers. She concentrated on securing the self-adhesive gauze wrap above his waist without accidentally brushing her fingers against his warm, supple skin. Again.
She didn’t need his comfort. Even for one evening, it was a luxury she couldn’t afford to indulge in.
“Are you talking about raising a baby on your own? C’mon, Doc. You’re one of the smartest, most capable women I’ve ever run across. You’ll handle it just fine.” She smiled, letting him misinterpret her reason for caution. “Where’s the dad? Does he plan to help?”
Her smile flattened as she cut the last strip of tape. So he had taken note of her earlier confession to single parenthood. “That’s where this conversation ends.”
He immediately shifted his position on the couch,
trying to tug his T-shirt down over his shoulder. The mummy-wrap that stretched from just below a flat male nipple to a latitude about an inch above his waist didn’t budge. “I didn’t mean to bring up a painful topic.”
“Not painful, just personal.”
She rose up on her knees and helped him into the sleeves of his T-shirt and sweater. He stood as she repacked the first-aid supplies on the coffee table. When she had finished, his hand was there, waiting to help her up. Appreciating the practicality of his offer in lieu of repeating her embarrassing visit to his lap earlier, she folded her fingers into his palm. But as soon as she was on her feet, she released him, not wanting to analyze her body’s swift, needy response to his strong, considerate care.
She brushed down the hem of her tunic and led the way to her front door. “You, sir, have a psych quiz to review for, I believe. I’d better send you on your way.” She pulled his thick leather jacket from the peg beside the door. “Thanks for seeing me home.”
“No problem.”
Holding the jacket out in both hands to help him put it on, she had no chance to hide the big yawn that suddenly assailed her, stretching her chin almost down to her chest. Rachel shook her head, trying to stem off the overwhelming fatigue that followed right after, turning her muscles to mush.
“Nothing personal.”
Josh grinned, his good-humored charm back in full force. He slipped his arms into the jacket and pulled it up onto his shoulders. “I’ll get out of here and let you get some sleep.”
She had no argument for him this time. Unlocking the door and holding it open for him, she gave her belly a gentle hug. “Thanks for keeping us safe.”
“My pleasure, Doc.” He waved at her stomach in a ridiculously touching gesture. “You, too, little one.” He inspected the chain and dead bolt before walking out onto the landing. “Lock up behind me.”
“I will. Stay away from those parties. And don’t forget about the X-ray.”
He nodded a response as he pulled on his gloves. “Sweet dreams, Doc.”
“Good night, Josh.”
She didn’t hear him move until she had set all three locks. She rested her forehead against the door and listened to his footsteps fading down the stairs. Her energy faded right along with the sound. She was weary. She’d been on an emotional roller-coaster ride today. Fear. Anger. Longing. Lust. Confusion. Disappointment. And twice she’d been rescued by Josh Tanner.
Two times too many for her own peace of mind.
She’d better have a snack and turn in—and put an end to this long, long day. For her sake as well as the baby’s.
But as Rachel pushed away from the door and faced the warm colors of her condo, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, wishing the color scheme alone could provide a tangible rise in temperature. Because now her cozy little condo felt big and empty—and lonely.
Dismissing the fanciful conjecture as a by-product of her tired brain, she headed into the kitchen, where she poured some milk and fixed herself half a peanut butter sandwich. She had a feeling that tonight her dreams would be anything but sweet.
Moments after she’d taken her first bite and leaned her hip against the counter to slowly chew and savor the taste, the phone rang. Her gaze instantly slid to the digital clock on the microwave. 2:26…a.m.
Her blood pulsed through her veins in a feverish rhythm. While it rang a second time, she scanned the living room. Maybe Josh had forgotten something. But other than the first-aid supplies on the coffee table, everything was in order.
She drifted back into the kitchen on the third ring. Perhaps it was a patient. Lucy Holcomb had been spiraling toward depression during their last chat.
Taking a deep breath, burying her wary feelings and adopting her cool, professional persona, Rachel swallowed her sandwich and picked up the phone. “Dr. Livesay.”
There was a beat of utter silence. Then the caller spoke. His voice, barely audible, was a hoarse whisper, as if the man—judging by the low pitch—was talking through a wad of cotton. “This is Daddy. What are you thinking, fooling around with that boy toy while you’re carrying my child? If you want to keep that baby, you’d better watch yourself.”
Boy toy? “Who the hell—?”
Click.
Rachel jumped as if a gunshot had thundered beside her ear. For a moment she could only stare at the receiver, her mind numb with shock and fear.
Then the baby kicked. And a helpless anger flooded her veins. A need to protect. A need to strike back at the bastard who got his kicks by terrorizing a lonely pregnant woman.
He was watching her.
Tonight.
Now.
How long had he been watching her?
She slammed down the phone and paced to the living room windows. A surge of adrenaline fired up her brain and scattered all thoughts of peaceful slumber. She cracked the blinds behind a lace panel of curtains and peeked outside. Traffic was nil this time of night. And though the street was lined with parked cars, there were no lights. All seemed quiet.
Was he out there in one of those cars? Sitting in the dark with a cell phone? Watching her peer helplessly into the night?
Creeped out by the very idea, Rachel closed the blinds and backed away from the window. She turned to the door where Josh Tanner had just exited, wondering how many minutes had passed since he left. Five? Ten? Was his truck still parked across the street? But then she realized she couldn’t bring herself to look out the window again. Besides, turning to Josh a third time wasn’t really an option. Hell. He might even have been the man on the phone. With her track record of being drawn to the wrong man, she’d be wiser to question Josh’s timely interventions rather than appreciate them. His help and comfort was off-limits, anyway.
Her problem needed to be handled discreetly. On her own.
The damn thing was, she didn’t know how. Maybe tomorrow, in the light of day, she’d think of a way. But for tonight, feeling as raw and vulnerable as she ever had in her life, she settled for checking all her locks, unplugging her phone and lying down for a few fitful hours of sleep haunted by nightmares of a faceless man breaking into her home and snatching her baby.
Chapter Five
Josh pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number A. J. Rodriguez had given him.
He’d sat in his parked truck with the engine running, waiting until the light in Rachel’s condo went out. She seemed to be taking an awfully long time getting ready for bed. Was she plagued by the same disturbing attraction that he felt? Or was he the only one whose equilibrium was being tested by forbidden urges?
Somewhere along the line tonight, his protective feelings and aesthetic appreciation for Rachel Livesay’s finer attributes had gotten tangled up in a sexual tension that was at once irresistibly intriguing and damnably inconvenient.
She’d literally fallen into his lap. Scooted her curvy rump against his privates, eliciting a purely masculine response to her, despite the pain he’d been in. Then she’d half undressed him with a speed and finesse that had him thinking bedroom rather than hospital room.
His physical response had been tempered by the absolute awe of learning the elusive differences between her pregnant body and the body of any other woman he’d known. There was a vulnerability about a woman whose normal state of grace had been altered by the fragile miracle of life growing inside her belly. Everything about her seemed like femininity intensified. Fuller hips. Softer, porcelain-fine skin. And the unmistakable evidence of the woman’s fertility mounding beneath that clingy green sweater.
He’d wanted to touch her belly, feel the life within her.
He’d wanted to kiss her.
Her soft, beautiful lips had hovered so close to his while he held her. He’d felt her warm breath on his neck. It would have been so easy to simply angle his face and capture her mouth with his. So easy to pull her even closer, to run his hands along the ripe curves and long planes of her body.
Talk about blowing his cover!
He co
uld tell the whole party scene he’d admitted to had disappointed her. It had quickly sealed the opening of any kind of relationship that might have blossomed between them. Maybe she’d lumped him in with David Brown and his drinking buddies.
If only she knew how hard he crusaded against young people using drugs. How he was putting his future as a cop and maybe even his life on the line in his quest to redeem Billy Matthews’s death and get every drug off every street corner, and protect every kid from that kind of hell.
Josh laughed out loud, mocking his lofty ideals as he turned on his headlights and checked for traffic. In reality, he knew he couldn’t save every kid. But he was a Taylor. He had to set his goals high.
He pulled out onto the deserted street and headed for his temporary apartment off 63rd Street near Swope Park. It lacked the history and personality of the City Market area where he’d grown up. But for now it was home. It was closer to campus and it had a bed. And at two in the morning, even that broken-down mattress would look mighty good.
A string of Spanish expletives greeted him after the second ring of his cell phone. “What?”
Apparently, the perennially cool Detective Rodriguez didn’t like being awakened in the middle of the night.
“A.J., it’s Josh.”
“What’s up?” A.J.’s tone changed in the time it took him to sit up in bed. He was all business now.
Josh had to admire the man’s chameleonlike ability to change personas. “It may be nothing, but I need you to run some checks for me first thing in the morning.”
He waited through a shuffle of noises. A.J. was probably reaching for a pen and notepad.
“Give me the names.”
“David Brown. Lance Arnold. Shelton Parrish. They’re UMKC students. I picked a fight with them.”
“You started a fight.” A.J.’s teasing bordered on incredulity.
“They were picking on somebody smaller than them.”
“You really want that badass reputation, don’t you? You hurt?”
Josh shrugged as if A.J. could see him, and immediately regretted the movement. The curse of pain between clenched teeth was answer enough.
