The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  “Yep.”

  “Mom didn’t send that. It… aw, what was that?” James thrust his beer toward the TV. “If that ball was any deader there’d be an obituary. That guy was out of bounds.”

  Justin thought of the kid whose football career he hadn’t been able to save, and turned away from the screen. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because his foot was –”

  “About Mom,” Justin clarified. “How do you know she didn’t send it?”

  “The box had a Charleston postmark. Between that and the cutesy little heart graffiti, I figured it was from one of your women. Oh.” More interested now, James turned suspicious gray eyes on Justin. “You’re not getting married or something, are you?”

  “Yes. I set this whole thing up to break the news.”

  James shrugged at the deadpan tone. “Hey, after you’re down I’m the last son standing. You can’t blame me for getting a little itchy at the idea of having all of Mom’s attention focused on me. But more importantly, you got a woman sending you” he flicked his hand at the ornament “couply crap like that, and you can’t figure out who it’s from? You dog. Guess all that working too much to date anyone right now line you fed Mom at Christmas was crap.”

  Formulating a rebuttal wasn’t worth the effort.

  With a smirk, James tossed the ornament back to Justin. Justin studied the intertwined figures with a suspicious eye, then noticed the little green ball hanging from the ribbon. He squinted, realizing it was supposed to be mistletoe.

  Mistletoe.

  Was it possible…

  No. Justin nixed that thought before it could fully form. First of all, Kathleen certainly hadn’t seen that kiss as any sort of… attempt at deepening their relationship. If she had, she would have contacted him over the past week. Likely by simply showing up at his door and asking if he was interested in adding benefits to their friendship. Coy, she was not.

  And sending cutesy little knickknacks anonymously through the mail was definitely not her style.

  Unless she was just messing with him. Which was entirely possible.

  Heat crept up the back of his neck as he considered that this might be her way of preserving their friendship. Letting him down easy. Making it a little joke.

  That was Kathleen’s style.

  God, he was a hopeless schmuck. Had the kiss been that bad? She’d seemed to be enjoying it. At least a little. Of course, maybe she just hadn’t wanted to cause a scene. Because she was embarrassed for his pathetic ass.

  “Dude. If you’re going to keep standing there mooning over that thing, could you at least put on some pants? You’re creeping me out.”

  Justin frowned at his brother. “I was not mooning.”

  “Whatever.” James turned his attention back to the TV. “First you hang a flowered shower curtain in the bathroom and now you’re getting all gooey over bric-a-brac. You need to go work on your truck or something.”

  Justin thought about the 1943 Ford currently on blocks in his garage. Spending a few hours tinkering with it might be just what he needed to occupy his mind.

  Then the caffeine kicked in, and he realized what James had just said.

  “Ah, shit.”

  “What?”

  Justin shook his head. The flowered shower curtain. Which had simply appeared in his bathroom one day a couple of months ago.

  Sending cutesy little ornaments through the mail might not be Kathleen’s style, but it sure as hell was Mandy’s.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KATHLEEN stamped her booted feet as she pulled her phone from her pocket. Cold air sliced scalpel sharp through the front of her sweater, and she struggled with one gloved hand to tug up the zipper on her leather jacket, scrolling through her text messages with the other. Charleston was experiencing a stint of bitter weather that laughed in the face of the ocean breezes which usually kept the winters temperate. Of course, sane residents of the city were holed up inside, under blankets, sipping hot toddies, instead of standing on the sidewalk outside the movie theater waiting for their errant lover to appear.

  Finding the text she was looking for, Kathleen double-checked the message and the time. Yep, she was indeed supposed to meet Anthony here at seven o’clock. The movie they were planning to see started at seven-ten. It was now seven twenty-two. Given the amount of previews, they probably hadn’t missed anything. Yet.

  Kathleen glanced through the big plate glass windows into the warmth of the theater lobby. A couple of people milled around, ordering popcorn, glancing at movie posters as they waited for shows to begin or finish. Kathleen had already checked out every poster in the lobby, so she’d stepped outside to wait. Mostly because the girl who’d sold her two tickets thirty minutes ago had smiled at her sympathetically.

  “This is ridiculous,” Kathleen murmured. She’d just go watch the damn movie herself. It wasn’t like she was the kind of woman who had to have a companion. Anthony could just tiptoe awkwardly through the darkened theater to find her when he got here. If he got here.

  She reached for the door handle to head inside. And felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Nice of you to join me,” she said mildly, turning to face the apology she had no doubt she’d find in his dark eyes. Only she wasn’t looking into dark eyes. Rather, she was staring at a cleanly shaven chin. She raised her gaze several inches higher and found it locked with Justin’s.

  “Oh,” she said, rather unoriginally. And despite the cold, felt heat creep up her neck.

  “Hey.” Justin, seemingly noticing that his hand was still clasped onto her shoulder, stuffed it into the pocket of his long camelhair coat. His straight dark hair was mussed from the persistent wind, one thick lock falling perilously close to his eye. He looked a little sheepish, a lot handsome, utterly familiar. And yet somehow she still felt that she was seeing him for the first time

  Good grief.

  Never at a loss for words, Kathleen pushed aside the ridiculous and unexpected thickness of her tongue and smiled in greeting.

  “Hey yourself. Sorry about that. I thought you were…” Anthony. Though saying his name threatened to twist her tongue into another awkward knot, so Kathleen shifted topics. “What are you doing here?” She took in the ice blue tie, the dark suit just visible in the V of his coat. She nodded at his fancy duds. “I didn’t realize the theater had a dress code.”

  He stared at her for a few beats, his eyes searching her face, and Kathleen felt her pulse begin to drum a faster beat, the rapid thump, thump, thump echoing in her ears.

  She hadn’t seen him in the two weeks since the Christmas party. Hadn’t heard from him either. Not even a quick text wishing her a happy new year. Of course, she hadn’t exactly been rushing to contact him.

  Kathleen figured he was probably regretting that awkward kiss. Well, not that the kiss had been awkward. It hadn’t been. At all. But it had introduced a previously unknown… element to their friendship that, despite Sadie’s protestations to the contrary, he obviously hadn’t wanted to explore any further. At least not immediately. Or maybe never.

  Which was fine with her. Really. They had a good thing going, so he was wise not to want to mess it up. And besides, she was already involved with someone. Sort of.

  “Business dinner,” he said, dragging her attention back to the topic at hand. “One of the hospital board members invited some of us to the Oyster House to discuss… well, hospital business.”

  “Ah,” Kathleen responded, then caught Justin frowning at her sling-free arm.

  “All better. See?” She lifted her arm out to her side. In reality it still ached from time to time, especially in this cold, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “The orthopedist cleared me yesterday.”

  Justin’s lips – don’t think about his lips – pressed into a suspicious line, but he didn’t grab her arm to have a look for himself. Which was fine. Not like he could tell much through her bulky coat anyway.

  “Just… take it easy for a while yet, okay?”


  “You bet.”

  This was the most stilted and uncomfortable conversation they’d ever had. And because this was Justin, for God’s sake, Kathleen decided to grab the bull by the proverbial horns.

  “Look, Justin. About the… Christmas party –”

  “Hey, hey, sorry I’m late.”

  Kathleen froze at the sound of Anthony’s familiar, albeit winded, voice. She turned to see him trotting up, his dark complexioned face ruddy above the bright blue slash of his scarf. He’d obviously been running against the bite of the wind. He grinned, charming and rueful, dropping a careless kiss on her cheek before turning a broad smile on Justin. “Wellington.” He pumped Justin’s hand. “This is unexpected. And you’ll notice that I managed to resist the opportunity to say what’s up, Doc.”

  “Corelli,” Justin returned the greeting after a brief glance at Kathleen. From the stiff set of his shoulders as he conversed with her gregarious date, she guessed he was feeling as awkward as she. Or hell, maybe he was just cold. He’d always gotten along with Anthony. There was absolutely no reason for that to have changed.

  And it was stupid to feel awkward. Or guilty. She’d been friends with Justin for almost three years, and they’d shared a brief, public kiss beneath the mistletoe. No harm done. And it wasn’t like she and Anthony were engaged or cohabitating or even considering either of those things.

  Anyway. Time to stop acting like some kind of junior high drama queen who’d been caught with the wrong boy behind the bleachers.

  “So,” she said brightly to Anthony. “We should probably…” She tilted her head toward the theater. And then, just to prove that things were as normal as they’d always been, she cocked an eyebrow at Justin. “You want to join us?”

  “No,” he said after a beat. “Thanks, but no. I need to be…” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the public parking lot. “Going. Nice to see you, Anthony. Kathleen.” He nodded, but his gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “Enjoy your movie.”

  “You ready?” Anthony asked, blowing on his ungloved hands before setting one on the handle of the door.

  Over his shoulder, she saw Justin disappear around the corner.

  “You bet.” She followed him inside, wondering why the blast of heated air did little to make her warm.

  SURE, that had gone well.

  Justin shook his head as he walked toward his truck, easily picking out the vivid cherry red of the nineteen-fifty-two Ford since the lot was half empty. Charlestonians and thirty degree temperatures did not mix well. Strangely, given the fact that he’d been raised in Savannah, Justin didn’t really mind the cold. Perhaps because he spent most of his time in the deep freeze of the operating room.

  Which is where he obviously belonged, he mused, crunching across the finely crushed gravel of the lot. Since his people skills were about as finely polished as a lump of coal.

  Unlike the rest of his family – hell, unlike most of his friends – charm did not come naturally to Justin. He’d always been too analytical, too literal, too reserved, too… shy.

  Take the way he’d just botched that encounter with Kathleen – and her boyfriend. Let’s be sure not to forget her boyfriend – as exhibit A.

  Justin was pretty sure he’d been about as engaging and conversationally sophisticated as a fence post.

  And Anthony… hell, even though the man had been forced to give up his career as a police detective due to lingering migraines as a result of a head injury sustained in the line of duty – sustained while protecting Kathleen, Justin might add – he was still outgoing and charismatic. Impossible not to like.

  Justin wanted to plant his fist in the man’s impossible-not-to-like face.

  “Yeah, that’ll accomplish something,” he muttered as he pulled his car keys from his pocket.

  After fitting the key into the lock, Justin glanced up, his hand stilling in the act of turning. There was something – a box of some sort – sitting on the passenger side of the bench seat.

  Justin let go of the key and looked at the rectangular shape of the lock mechanism to check if it was depressed. It was. Just to be sure, he lifted the handle on the driver’s door. The door didn’t budge. He peered across the shadowy interior to see that the lock was engaged on the passenger door as well. Given the age of the vehicle, the two mechanisms worked independently.

  He was sure he’d locked the truck – both doors – before he’d walked toward the restaurant. Positive. And the box hadn’t been there when he’d left.

  Feeling grim, Justin proceeded to unlock his door. Blinking against the glare from the dome light, he leaned across the seat, sliding the box toward him.

  It was just a plain brown box, the kind you could find anywhere shipping supplies were sold. There was nothing – no product labels or tracking codes or postmarks – on the outside. The top was folded, each square interlocking with the one beside it. It wasn’t especially heavy.

  Justin stared at it for a moment before drawing a deep breath. Then he grasped the edges of the top flaps, pulling them open.

  A silver gift bag, stuffed with white, star-studded tissue, sat inside.

  Cautiously, feeling absurdly like a man sticking his head into the open mouth of a crocodile, he lifted the bag and rifled through the tissue to reveal the contents.

  A book. Shoulders sagging – although why he was relieved, he could not say. The fact that the truck had been locked remained the same – Justin snatched the hardback out and examined the cover.

  Dean Koontz. His favorite author.

  Anger rippled through him, surprising him with its intensity. He’d always been the calm one, the cool head which prevailed whenever his brothers were trying to pound each other into pulp or when there was a crisis in the operating room. It’s why he’d elected trauma as a specialty.

  But he was seething now.

  What the hell did Mandy think she was doing? Trying to woo him back by, what, leaving him these anonymous gifts? Was she aiming to create the sort of mystery thriller he liked to read? Some mystery. Who else knew his reading tastes, knew that there was an informal hospital business meeting tonight and had had enough access to his keys at one point to make a copy of the one for his truck.

  Torn between low-grade fury and disgust, Justin crumpled the tissue paper before tossing it and the book onto the seat. He and Mandy were going to have a discussion tomorrow. A brief, to-the-point discussion in which he made himself clear about a few things. Of course, he’d thought he’d made himself clear when he’d said: I’m sorry, but this isn’t working for me and I don’t want to see you anymore. But apparently there had been room in Mandy’s mind for some doubt.

  The truck started with a comforting rumble, and Justin pulled out of the lot, letting up the pressure on the gas pedal when the tires started to spit gravel. He took a few deep breaths to get his rare show of temper under control.

  He turned the wheel, causing the book to slide across the bench seat and hit him in the thigh. Justin glanced down, the glow from the street lamp flickering through the windshield. It was only then that the title registered.

  It was a copy of Koontz’s The Husband.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JUSTIN clutched the potted plant – some kind of brightly colored daisy wrapped in even brighter foil – in one hand as he pushed the button for the elevator with the other. He felt a little silly. Not that flowers were an unusual sight around here, obviously. There were two flower shops within a block of the hospital grounds, not to mention the big cooler stuffed full of blooms in the gift shop. But as a physician, he didn’t often – ever – give flowers to his patients. Not that this girl was a patient of his. She’d been under someone else’s care since she’d been brought in. But given the… uniqueness of their doctor/patient relationship – she’d been his first field experience, after all – Justin didn’t think that this was outside the bounds of propriety.

  And besides, he liked the girl. Natasha. The waitress. He’d gotten into the habit of popping in
to see her almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and he admired her spunk. She was funny and sarcastic and tough. She was a good kid. And she was going home today.

  The elevator dinged and Justin stepped inside as the doors slid open.

  And his emotions shifted from silly to grim.

  “Mandy.”

  Her face lit up in a beatific smile. “Hi.” She straightened up from her slouch in the corner, and nodded at the gaily colored plant. “Aw, aren’t you sweet. You shouldn’t have.”

  She reached for the pot and though he knew she was kidding – probably kidding – he yanked it away. The temper he’d thought to have completely under control began to quietly simmer. He punched a button and as the elevator began its ascent again, he did his best to keep the desire to wring her pretty little neck out of his voice. “We have to talk.”

  He’d planned to track her down later. But this opportunity worked out well enough.

  “Okay.” With a puzzled look – Justin guessed his tone wasn’t quite as neutral as he’d hoped – she slid her hands into the pockets of her cartoon character-printed scrubs.

  “I want the keys,” he said clearly. “And I want you to stop. It’s not going to work. You’re embarrassing yourself and you’re angering me. It’s over.”

  Her pink-painted lips formed a surprised “O” just before indignation puckered her brow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The ornament?” he reminded her caustically. “The book? And those things on their own would have been… inappropriate enough, but letting yourself into my truck borders on criminal, Mandy. Or creepy at the very least. Either way, this ends. Now.”

  The elevator dinged, signaling they’d arrived at Mandy’s floor, and she glared up at him, quivering with rage.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words strained between her clenched teeth. “But you can rest assured that if I ever had any thoughts concerning the rekindling of our relationship, I certainly don’t have them now. Get out of my way.”