by Karina Bliss
Then he heard the rumble of a powerful engine and Steve’s 1959 Cadillac pulled up alongside, Jules behind the wheel.
And Lee fell down another rabbit hole.
* * *
“SO WHAT MADE YOU buy the Caddy?” Lee asked as they cruised the country roads after leaving the airbase. Experimentally, he laid his arm across the back of Jules’s seat and watched her shoulders tighten. Tension, he liked that. He wasn’t going to give her a moment to relax.
It was his first real chance to study her, to notice her pallor, the faint circles under her eyes. Guess she hadn’t got much sleep since Lazarus rose from the dead.
“Claire decided to sell it. Don’t you remember...?” She paused, no doubt winding through the logistics of his “amnesia.” What he could and couldn’t remember.
While he waited, he studied her once-beloved features. Her determined chin offset by the soft curve of her cheek with a biteable roundness when she smiled. Long lashes. He’d teased her once by saying they undermined her authority and she’d tortured him with butterfly kisses.
“...Claire always thought of this car as Steve’s mistress,” Jules finished. Becoming aware of his scrutiny, she tucked her hair behind her ear, a sure sign of anxiety. Usually she was careful to cover the left ear because she thought it stuck out. It did, but in a cute way. Nerves weren’t something he associated with this toughie, but then she was living one hell of a lie.
Lee turned his attention to the scenery. It was easier watching the countryside transform into suburbia. “And now Claire’s engaged to her husband’s best friend.”
Her sideways glance was troubled. “She mourned Steve. She still mourns Steve. So does Nate. Keep an open mind.”
“Sure. They’re my friends, after all.” He wasn’t going to discuss this with her. He returned his attention to her profile. “So how about you? You mourn me for long?”
They were merging into the highway heading north. Jules checked her side mirrors and accelerated. “The day I heard you were alive was the happiest day of my life.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Again she considered her reply. Once he’d found that lawyerly trait to weigh her words before speaking endearing. But now, it meant that obtaining a confession wasn’t going to be easy.
“I’ve been told you don’t want to talk about the past nineteen months.”
That was the thing with Jules. He could never second-guess what she’d say next. “You heard right.” He wound down his window, needing the breeze to dispel the sensual lure of her perfume.
“I feel the same way.”
He snorted. “You think our experiences are comparable?”
“Hardly. But, like you, I don’t like to dwell on the bad times. You have the right to decide what to disclose and to whom. How you want to deal with this.” She gave him another incisive glance. “When you’re building a new life, constantly picking the scab can be self-defeating. That’s something these past months have taught me, for what it’s worth.”
“Wipe the slate clean and start again?” So that’s how she justified her deceit.
“If it’s possible. Yes.”
Well, it’s not possible, Jules. He opened his mouth to reply and then closed it, overcome by a rush of nausea.
“You’ve gone white. Here.” She passed him the water bottle from the console between them. “Hydrate. There’s a blanket in the backseat if you want to fold it up for a pillow.”
He accepted the bottle but didn’t speak, wholly focused on not losing his breakfast. Sweat popped on his forehead.
“Lee, do I need to stop?”
Desperately he nodded.
Lee used all his willpower not to throw up as she took a couple of minutes to pull over, easing into the wide verge at the side of the highway.
As soon as the vehicle pulled over, he flung open the door, stumbled a few paces, then bent double and hurled into the bushes. Cars whizzed by at a hundred kilometers, buffeting him with gas fumes.
He heard the crunch of gravel and then felt her hand between his shoulder blades, cool and steady through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Finally the paroxysms passed.
Some tissues appeared before his blurred vision. Shakily, Lee wiped his mouth and straightened. Jules caught him by the arm and steadied him. “I’m fine,” he gasped, but took a couple of seconds to extricate himself.
“Wait here,” she said gently.
She returned to the car for the water bottle he’d dropped. Lee rinsed his mouth, splashed his face then used more wipes to dry off.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said as they got back to the car.
Jules slid behind the wheel. “I’m taking you to the nearest Emergency.”
“Nausea’s an early side effect of the meds I’m taking,” he explained. “It’ll wear off in another day or so.”
“I can’t believe the army doctor didn’t insist you stay in Auckland for observation.”
He probably would have—if Lee had shared his symptoms. “I’m an advanced paramedic,” he argued. “I can gauge when I need medical attention and I know all the warning signs to watch for.”
She kept shaking her head.
“If I’m still not well in a couple of days I’ll seek treatment, I promise.”
“Lee—”
“C’mon, Jules, why would I stay in Auckland when I can go home with my brand-spanking-new fiancée?” If his sweetie was hoping for an out, she was outta luck.
He replaced the water bottle in the console and picked up one of her business cards “Hey, new cards.... Wow, you’re a partner.”
She flicked the card out of his fingers. “Nice try, mate. Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll keep going if you try to rest.” Reaching into the backseat, she got the blanket, rolled it into a pillow and handed it to him. “Tomorrow morning you’re visiting the doctor.”
“You’re the boss.” Until he regained his strength.
“There are mints in my bag.” He found them.
She turned the ignition. “Oh, and take the cash, too. A thousand dollars.” She smiled. “Your first interest payment.”
Lee opened his mouth to tell her to keep it. But how would that teach her about consequences? He pocketed the wad. “Thanks.”
* * *
LEE SLEPT AND finally Jules could process the past few hours. Well, you’ve done it now, girl.
No point in beating herself up. The circumstances, Lee’s condition, hadn’t given her a choice. When he was healthier, stronger, she’d tell him the truth. Until then... Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. Oh God, what was she going to do until then?
She stole a glance at him, trying to find the big, angry man who’d walked out on her, slamming the door behind him. All she could see was someone she loved—ill, exhausted and stubbornly fighting it. But angry. Yes, still angry, though now it was targeted at his weakness, his exhaustion and, she suspected, at people trying to get him to let time do the healing. He’d always been impatient for results.
But if Lee imagined she’d meekly stand by and let him have his own way—if it wasn’t good for him—then he hadn’t just lost his memory, he’d lost his mind.
Her lips curved in a pained smile. There you go, find humor in this.
One thing was clear. He hadn’t changed into a man who’d easily forgive her once—if—he recalled the memory of her rejecting his proposal. Jules could barely understand her own motives for accepting the ring she’d earlie
r refused.
When Nate and Dan had called her to Ross’s hospital bed, she’d thought it was to say another goodbye. Ice’s injuries from the ambush had been that horrendous. Instead they’d presented her with the ring. Taking comfort, she realized numbly, from the belief they were fulfilling their dead buddy’s wish.
And she’d put it on with trembling fingers, not saying a word. Not one.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE HIGHWAY ENDED and became State Highway 1, a mostly two-lane road north, cutting through countryside interspersed with towns. The trees in early November fluttered late spring’s new leaves and the grass was a lush green. The warm air through Lee’s open window was positively flirtatious, though she could also smell rain. Overhead, the clouds were gray.
Jules drove mechanically. She kept her eyes on the road but every other sense was attuned to the silent rise and fall of the chest of the man sleeping beside her. She had to resist the need to touch him, to keep substantiating that he was real.
When her first grief had passed, she’d consoled herself with the thought that somewhere, with the benefit of heaven-sight, Lee understood her impulsive decision to accept his ring from the guys. Earthly Lee had never been one for saintly forbearance and the new Lee beside her, scarred, damaged and edgy... Only a fool would hope he’d understand.
It started spitting as they crossed the Brynderwyn Hills and Jules pulled off the highway, angling the vehicle so the raindrops didn’t hit Lee’s sleeping face. Engine idling, she unclipped her seat belt and carefully leaned past him to wind up his window. He didn’t stir, out cold after his long flight.
His face had softened in sleep, which made it easier to find the vestiges of his once-extraordinary looks. Good bones were good bones—except where they’d been broken. He breathed heavily through his crooked nose and rage made her own breathing harsh.
He had not deserved this. None of them had.
But he was alive and that was a miracle she’d never cease giving thanks for.
She stared at the face so close to hers and murmured, “I accepted the ring because everyone needed me to and because I so badly wanted us to have parted on better terms than we did.”
Lee grunted, settled his head more firmly on the makeshift pillow and sighed, his breath stirring the loose strands of her hair.
Jules closed her eyes. She was afraid of her response to him, always had been.
She’d been fourteen when she’d decided that the most self-destructive thing a woman could do was follow her heart. Like her mother had repeatedly done. Maturity had given Jules a more balanced view, but everyone started a relationship on their best behavior. Seeing a person’s true colors took time and until then you held something back. It seemed a simple enough precaution. And then she’d met Lee and realized she wasn’t smarter than other women, she was simply Napoleon before Waterloo.
“That’s settled then,” she whispered. His “death” had burned away any bitterness about how they’d parted but she wasn’t going to bleed out for him again, this ill-fated love of hers. Not again. She had too strong a sense of self-preservation for that.
The decision steadied Jules, gave her purpose. She smoothed away a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes and resolutely sat back.
He was troubled, of course he was—no one could come through what he had unscathed. He needed love, patience and support; and she had atonement to make. She would take care of him until he was well enough to hear the truth. Maybe helping him into a new life would act as compensation in some way.
Flicking on the windshield wipers she pulled onto the highway. The left blade dragged, reminding her that she needed to replace it. But spending U.S. $87.50 plus postage to import a wiper blade wasn’t a priority when you were scrambling to find one hundred and ten thousand dollars.
Jules had let her heart rule her head when she’d bought this car from Claire and was living to regret it. The Pink Lady had very quickly become the Pink Elephant under the strain of daily use. She’d sold her practical Volvo to afford the purchase. She could sell it, buy a cheap import and free up fifteen to twenty thousand for Lee. Jules sighed. That only left ninety-five thousand dollars to repay.
The wipers made a faint squeal as they ran out of rain and she switched them off. Whichever way you looked at it, she had a hell-busy week ahead.
Jules reassigned clients in her head while the Caddy swept along the wet roads, darkened to a slick black. The sun pierced the clouds periodically, spotlighting tableaux of passing scenery. A field, a stand of trees, a patch of blacktop. She’d have to work half days—there were some clients she couldn’t pass on.
The Carpenters, on the verge of finalizing separation papers, wouldn’t want another lawyer. Neither would Mrs. Potter who was coming in to sign over Enduring Power of Attorney. Cedric was in the middle of his asset planning—it would take her more time to brief someone than finish it herself.
Lee jerked upright with a hoarse shout, startling Jules into slamming on the brakes. The Caddy’s wheels locked, and the vehicle slid across the wet road and squealed to a stop in the oncoming lane.
Lee sat up, dazed. “What happened?”
Some ninety meters ahead lay a blind corner. “Hang on.” Jules forgot the clutch as she tried to change into Reverse. The engine jumped and stalled. “Damn it!”
She turned the key, pumping the accelerator in her haste to get them out of trouble, then belatedly realized she was flooding the engine and eased off the pedal. Too late. The engine coughed and died. Once, twice she tried the ignition. No go. In frustration she hit the steering wheel. “We’ll have to push it out of this lane.”
Lee was already unfastening his seat belt. “Put the gear stick in Neutral.”
They scrambled out of the car. “Thank God it’s a quiet road,” she said. “I took a shortcut to bypass Wellsford’s bottleneck.”
Lee braced against the bonnet. “Once we’ve got her moving, you steer and I’ll push.”
“You shouldn’t be exerting yourself. Let’s change places.”
He gave her a male look and she shut up and planted her hands against the door frame. “On three,” he said. “One...two...three.” They both heaved on the car. Nothing happened.
“Is the hand brake on?”
Jules checked. It was. Shamefacedly she released it. “Thank God,” Lee muttered. They pushed again, and this time the Pink Lady groaned and started to move at a snail’s pace.
“What happened to the law of momentum?” Jules panted.
“It came across a couple of tons of pink metal.... Why’d you buy this heap again?”
But another sound caught her attention. Among the comfortable country noises, she picked out the faint squeal of air brakes.
Lee heard it, too. “Playtime’s over.” Arms wide across the bonnet, he bent his head, long thin muscles cording as he shoved. High heels sliding on the loose stones, Jules heaved against the door frame, reaching one hand to steer the vehicle. The Pink Lady picked up speed.
Glancing forward, Jules caught a flash of sun on metal as a milk tanker came into view through the trees, then disappeared approaching the corner. Their corner. “Get ready to run!”
“C’mon!” Lee yelled above the approaching truck. “You’ve played chicken before, haven’t you?”
“This is crazy!” She shoved harder, wrenching the steering wheel. Lee grimaced in effort. The Pink Lady glided into the correct lane as the tanker barreled around the corner...swin
ging wide. Air brakes squealed as the driver wrestled with the steering wheel to adjust his line, his mouth open in surprise.
The blast of his horn was deafening as it rolled past with two feet to spare, the backdraft lifting her dress and swirling it around her thighs. Furious, she raised her fists. “You bloody idiot!”
Next minute she was jostled aside. Lee leaped through the open door of the driver’s side and slammed on the brakes as the Pink Lady overshot the verge. The car stopped inches short of a ditch.
Aghast, Jules stared at him through the windscreen, leaning against the hood for support. “I could have got you killed on your first day home,” she gasped.
He grinned. It was his old grin, dazzling and devilish, and her erratic pulse jumped even further out of regular tempo. He’d been holding out on her.
“Why’d you buy this heap again?” he demanded through the open side window.
“Because you loved it.”
And just like that, his face fell. “You say all the right things,” he muttered. He climbed out of the driver’s seat. “I hate to tell you, but she was a passing phase.”
“A passing...” Jules sucked in a deep, unsteady breath and started to laugh increasingly hysterical laughter. She’d read more into his enjoyment of Steve’s car than was there. “Oh, Lee,” she managed to get out weakly. It didn’t matter how many myths he exploded, she’d take the real man any day. Unable to articulate her wellspring of emotions, she stepped forward and hugged him. “Oh, Lee.”
He stiffened. “Jules, I’m sweaty.”
“And you stink. I don’t care.”
“I care.” Carefully he loosened her hold and she remembered Claire’s comment that he found hugs difficult.
“So, what happened to cause the skid anyway?” Lee bent to inspect the tires. “Did you hit an oil slick?”
“You yelled.” Recalling the anguish in his tone, Jules shivered. “Ajmal?”
He straightened. “I’m sorry,” he said curtly.
