by Julie Miller
She led him to the upstairs bathroom at the end of the hall. Using only the glow of the night-light beside the sink, she urged him to sit on the lid of the toilet while she opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the supplies she needed. In every aspect of her life, save the one he wanted to talk about, Jane was a confident, efficient woman, just as she was now, gently peeling off the gauze and tape that were still wet from his shower, moving around his knees to toss it in the trash and back again to inspect the wound before covering it with a fresh bandage. For a few minutes while she worked, Thomas simply watched the grace and gentle certainty of a mature woman who knew what she was doing. He’d forgotten how good a woman could smell, especially one who bathed and shampooed in something citrusy and fresh.
He suspected that taking care of others came more naturally to Jane than taking care of herself. With every brush of her fingers across his skin, every bump of her knee against his, he wanted to pull her into his lap and hold her close, convincing her with his body the promise she refused to believe. He would keep her safe if she’d let him. He’d protect her from those ghosts haunting her eyes.
A boss probably shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like that about his employee. But a man would have those thoughts about a woman he cared for, a woman who was coming to mean more to him than any woman had for a long time. He’d dated a few times over the years since Mary’s death. And he certainly had friends who were female. But Olivia had been right at the wedding. He’d shut off his heart for a long time after Mary’s murder. He’d always love Mary, always miss her, but the grief and pain had been dealt with, boxed up and put in the past. There was something about this woman peeling the gauze off the scraped-up skin of his elbow that woke things inside him that had been dormant for far too long. Sure, his hormones buzzed close to the surface any time he inhaled Jane’s scent or glimpsed her lean, womanly shape or saw her pink lips soften into a sensuous smile.
But there was something more going on here. She wasn’t afraid to argue with him, and he liked a woman who sparked off him like that. She made him feel alive. Young. Virile. More than that, she needed him. Well, she needed someone to have her back and help her with whatever secrets were nipping at her heels. And he wanted it to be him. He knew she didn’t have many people in her life. But he was here. Right here in front of her. He’d been a son, a dad, a cop and a widower for a lot of years. Jane made him feel like a man. Thomas hadn’t been needed in a long time. He hadn’t been a man a woman needed for a very long time.
Thomas was lost in his thoughts, lost in the way her silky hair brushed across his skin when she leaned over his arm, when she asked, “Why did you kiss me? At the restaurant before I left with Conor?”
When she straightened to look down at him, her fingers were cupped against the cheek he’d kissed, as if remembering the touch of his lips there. He remembered it. His lips instantly warmed with the memory of her skin heating beneath his touch. When she saw him focusing on the same spot, she curled her fingers into her palm, drawing them away from her cheek.
“Did I overstep the bounds of our professional relationship?”
“Forget about that. I’m not a naive girl who isn’t aware that there’s some chemistry between us. You’ve never crossed a line that made me uncomfortable.”
“Until tonight?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
So she could push for answers, but he wasn’t allowed to? The argument was poised on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of antagonizing her when she was already too unsettled to relax. “I wanted Wildman to know you had somebody looking out for you. In case...”
Thomas stood, taking up more room in the small space than he realized. Retreating a step to keep some distance between them, Jane’s feet hit the edge of the tub, but her body kept moving. She let out a tiny yelp and windmilled her arms to stop herself from falling. But before she could regain her balance, Thomas grabbed her by the waist to catch her, his fingers sliding beneath her top, singeing against her cool skin. With her hands clutching his biceps and her arched back throwing her hips into his, they froze. For several seconds, the only sounds in the room were the stuttered whooshes of their startled breathing trying to return to its normal rhythm. He was hyperaware of her strong thighs squeezed to either side of his bum leg and her hip pressed against a part of him that was much more sensitive to touch. Her eyes had darkened to the green side of hazel and looked up at him through long golden lashes. His mouth hovered close enough above hers to feel her warm breath dance across his lips. He wasn’t sure how to finish this without kissing her until he got this crazy, inappropriate lust out of his system, and revealed his mixed up feelings for her.
“In case what?” she prompted on a whisper.
His expertise when it came to dealing with affairs of the heart might be a little rusty, but his skill set was razor sharp when it came to recognizing when someone was in trouble. His gaze zeroed in on the scars on her neck. “In case he’s the one hurting you.”
“Hurting? Conor hasn’t hurt me. He’s...” Her eyes shuttered and she pushed him away, snapping the jacket together at her neck and twisting from his grasp. “I can’t talk about it.” And there was the lockdown on her features again. She flipped on the light switch beside the door, forcing him to lower his eyes and turn away from the harsh light while she cleaned up the mess and put away the first-aid supplies. “Thank you, Thomas. I was scared earlier tonight. Scared for you and Millie and Seamus. But knowing you were there for me grounded me. You shared a little bit of that quiet strength of yours and I could deal with what I needed to handle.” She tossed the last of the soiled gauze into the trash behind him before glancing up at him. “So thank you. I would regret if something happened to any of you because of me.”
And now she was walking away. Thomas pursued her into the hallway.
“Because of you?” He snatched her by the arm and turned her to face him. He couldn’t keep the frustration and concern from filtering into his voice. “Who wants to hurt you? What do you need to handle? I’m trying to help you here.”
She braced her hands against his chest when he refused to let go, and he felt a pinch as the tips of her fingers curled into the muscle there as she considered her answer. He was getting a dangerous sense that she was feeling that pull of desire between them, too. But she was strong enough to push him away and turn to the stairs. “I think I will go down and get a little bowl of cereal. Maybe that’ll help me sleep. Good night, Thomas.”
“Good night, Jane.”
Maybe a mutual attraction was wishful thinking on his part. But he was certain in his bones that Jane was in trouble.
After she’d gone down and he saw the kitchen light shining through the hallway at the foot of the stairs, he looked through the open door into her bedroom. He saw her phone lying on her bed. It would be a gross invasion of her privacy, and he certainly didn’t have any legal justification to do so, but he wanted to have a look at it. He wanted to find out exactly what or who it was that kept her up at night and put that worried look into her eyes.
The cop in him would have waited. The man in him couldn’t.
The man won.
He checked the stairs one last time to hear her working in the kitchen, and then strode into her room.
Chapter Five
Jane survived the weekend without any more accidental late-night run-ins with Thomas. Maybe it was fear and fatigue, or maybe the hushed intimacy of a shadowed hallway and a quiet house that had screwed with her common sense.
Even if the older generation was sound asleep a floor below, she and Thomas weren’t kids sneaking out of their bedrooms to talk and touch and almost kiss. Yeah, for a few minutes there, she’d been certain he was going to kiss her again. And the foolish thing was she’d been completely ready to kiss him back, ready to taste those firm lips moving over hers, ready to wind her arms arou
nd his neck and pull herself into the heat and strength of his body. She’d felt his arousal pressing against her hip. She’d felt the brand of his fingers against her skin. He hadn’t been shy about putting his hands on her—to comfort her, to catch her, to keep her from bolting—and a man’s touch had felt so good. So warm. So tempting. So normal.
But she’d seen his eyes land on the scars on her neck, and felt the rage at the injuries she’d suffered subtly change his hold on her. It had been the reminder she needed that she wasn’t normal. She didn’t get to give in to her body’s desires. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could surrender to a man who stirred things inside her. Not when her life depended on her keeping her secrets. Not when those secrets could endanger the loving, character-filled family she’d grown to care about these past few months.
So she’d kept her conversations short. She’d avoided him as much as possible at the house. And she’d bundled Seamus into her car and scooted him out of the house Monday morning for an occupational therapy session even before Thomas had left for work.
All the tension from Friday night—from the drive-by shooting to Conor’s warning to that hallway rendezvous with Thomas—had thankfully shifted to a back burner in her mind while she focused on driving Seamus around Kansas City on some errands to give him real-world practice dealing with maneuvering his walker through shop doors and checkout lines, and giving him someplace different to walk besides at home and the park. He’d handled asking for directions at the pharmacy, reading Millie’s shopping list and picking up items of different shapes and weights off the grocery shelves and putting them into their basket.
Now, as he pushed their shopping cart out to her mini SUV, she kept hold of the side of the basket more as a precautionary measure rather than an effort to help him with any of the muscle work. She unlocked the car and opened the back gate, gesturing to the empty space. “You’re up, Seamus. You can use your walker for stability if you want, but remember, the car is also stationary so you can use it to brace yourself. I want to see you negotiate the twisting action of unloading the cart and putting the groceries in the back.”
“Tack-matter,” he whined. But since he smiled, she didn’t mind being called a taskmaster.
Taking Conor’s advice to heart, while Seamus went through the exercise, Jane scanned the parking lot and the front of the store, looking for anyone who seemed extra interested in her and her car. The place was bustling, with people hurrying in and out the store, driving perilously close to pedestrians as they impatiently waited to find a parking space near the doors. Mothers warned small children to stay close. Infants cried. Friends waved, and drivers in various cars, trucks and vans zipped into parking spots or exited out onto the street. All in all, her surroundings looked perfectly normal for a busy morning in the city.
“Done.” Seamus had unloaded the cart and was even reaching up to pull down the tailgate. Although the pulling motion taxed the strength in his good arm, he didn’t hesitate to raise his weaker hand to catch the door so it didn’t spring up on him. He’d come so far from the bedridden patient she’d first been hired to take care of all those months ago.
Jane waited until the door was shut before smiling and giving him a thumbs-up. “Nicely done.”
She told him to wait for her to help him climb into the SUV and hurried the cart across the driveway to return it to the front of the store. She waited for a white car and van to pull past her before she could cross back to the car. A little ripple of unease shivered down her spine at the sight of the van. But unlike the shooting at the restaurant, this one was driving by at a normal pace. There were no gunshots, and the driver didn’t seem interested in anything except following the traffic out of the parking lot.
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding, resumed normal breathing and hurried back to her car. Seamus was standing in the same place at the rear of the SUV, grinning. “Gonna let me drive dis time?”
He must be feeling good this morning to tease her. He knew the doctor hadn’t cleared him yet for operating a vehicle. She teased him right back and tossed him her keys. “Think fast.”
He fumbled them from one hand to the other, but caught them against his chest. Every time he used those muscles for something new, he was retraining the pathways in his brain and speeding his recovery.
Jane closed the distance between them and tilted her face up to kiss his weathered cheek. “Not this time. But your reflexes are improving.” How many times had her grandfather played that same game with her as a little girl? Spending this time with Seamus reminded her of Cyrus Ward and the happy little girl she’d been growing up. “One day soon you’ll be behind the wheel. Then you can take Millie out on a date all by yourself.”
“Why would I want to...?” His pale skin colored with a mighty blush as she turned him toward the passenger door. “I know dat woman for tenty years and we never one-t gone out on date.”
“Twenty years, hmm?” She buckled herself in behind the wheel and started the engine. “You Watson men do move slowly, don’t you?”
Seamus pointed a bony finger at her as she backed out and pulled into the line of cars to exit onto Highway 40. “I S-peedy Gonzalez compared to you. Don’t tink I haven’t noticed you giving my t-son those looks at the dinner table. He look at you, too. But anyting happen? No.”
Only while you’re sleeping. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. Even though he’d been joking with her—at least she hoped he was joking—he hadn’t really caught her sneaking looks at Thomas, had he? Any reference to that fruitless attraction ruined her cheery mood and reopened the door to those thoughts and feelings she’d been trying to ignore. Flexing her grip around the steering wheel, Jane stepped on the gas and turned the spotlight away from her. “I was merely pointing out that when those gunshots were fired Friday night, your first instinct was to protect Millie.” She slowed at the Lee’s Summit Road traffic light and turned. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel something for her.”
“One-t a cop, always a cop. My job to protect.” Was that all that Thomas’s questions and late-night touches and hushed conversation had been about? He was a cop, and protecting those around him was second nature to him? Or was there something more personal to his prying into her problems? It certainly felt personal. If she were living a different life, she wouldn’t be averse to Thomas feeling a personal interest in her. But relationships were off the table for her right now. They had to be.
She’d crossed I-70 and had nearly reached the Thirty-Ninth Street turnoff when Seamus spoke again. “I not much a man right now. Want to be whole before I ack Millie out.”
Jane put on her turn signal and switched lanes to make the left as the conversation turned serious. Seamus’s admission tugged at her heart. “That doesn’t matter to her and you know it. She sees the handsome man you are, the man who makes her laugh when you’re not biting someone’s head off, the strong man you will be again.”
“I already old.” He seemed distracted by something in his side mirror. She hoped he wasn’t embarrassed to be honest with her. She was responsible for his mental state as well as his physical recovery.
She tried to encourage him with the first example that came to mind. “Do you think Thomas sees himself as half a man because of the injury to his leg? He’s never going to lose that limp. But trust me, women are looking at those broad shoulders and that rugged jaw and those handsome green eyes, and they are not noticing his uneven gait. He walks and talks with an air of authority that commands a room without having to say much. He doesn’t even have to work at it. It’s just who he is. That’s sexy.”
When she stopped talking and glanced across the front seat, she realized Seamus was staring at her, with a sleek white brow arched above one eye. She’d given away far too much, and she forced her eyes back to the road. “You tink my boy is texy?”
She was probably blushing all the way down to her toes this time,
judging by the way her temperature had spiked. She turned on the car’s air conditioner to cool herself off. “The point I was making is that it runs in the family. Millie sees the determined man who’s charming and gallant. She sees those blue eyes and that kind heart, not the walker or the weak hand.” Jane buzzed a breath out between her lips. “Besides, she is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. She has corralled five Watson men and Olivia for twenty-plus years. From the sound of things, she’s never taken any guff off any of you. She’s fed you and loved you all. If there’s any woman who could put up with you besides me, it’s Millie.”
She’d expected him to react to that big speech, which she made certain was all about someone besides herself. But he’d drifted away from the conversation again.
“Seamus?” Was he tiring? She’d been pushing him for three hours now. Or maybe she’d flat-out embarrassed him by butting into his love life. “This talking is excellent therapy to build your stamina and improve your communication skills. We can change the topic if you want to, but I don’t think we should stop.”
And then she realized his posture had changed. He might have been retired for more than fifteen years, but she recognized his shoulders coming back, that wary look. “White van from gro-cey tore turned last tuh-ree corners with us.”
“What?” White van? She’d seen that very same van a few minutes ago, had talked herself out of that uneasy feeling and dismissed it as coincidence. But now that suspicion surged through her again. Jane checked her rearview mirror. She spotted the van three vehicles back. Her pulse rate kicked up a notch. It did look like the same one. She was already taking a roundabout route through the suburbs, avoiding the more direct route to the Watson home on the interstate. She couldn’t see the driver or read any markings on the front. “You think he’s following us?”
“We find out.” He pointed to the next traffic light. “Get into turn lane. Go touth.”
