Uncertainty flickered across his face.
“You just treat kids like miniature adults,” she assured him. “Don’t underestimate them ”
“I don’t even know how to talk to adults,” he said, and for a moment she wondered whether he was joking. She couldn’t tell, because the expression in his eyes didn’t change. The crook of his hps turned up just a trifle, barely enough to notice.
“I think you can manage,” she said dryly.
He could probably do anything he wanted, she thought. She wondered how long it would take him to discover that
When the food came, he ate with precision. Every particle. She tried not to watch, but she did so want him to enjoy it. He’d had little pleasure since the accident, and probably none in the ten years before that. Dear God, she wanted to see a smile.
He was forty-one years old, and many, if not all, had been hard years. Though his dark hair showed only traces of gray, his face showed the wear of those years in the lines that jutted from his eyes, the creases in his forehead when he frowned She tried to equate this man with the one she had tried to puzzle together. The only common denominator appeared to be his control. Despite his loss of memory, his loss of self, he maintained a tight control on himself, always watching. listening, absorbing.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
She looked down at her untouched sandwich Where was her own control? She seemed to have lost it the first day she’d visited him in the hospital
Almost obediently, she picked it up and started eating, forcing her gaze away from him and down to her plate For some reason, the food seemed tasteless.
His body moved restlessly across from her, and his knee touched hers. Heat and confusion surged through her.
“Sorry, Mrs. Farrell.”
She was acutely aware of his deep, lazy drawl through the warm tingling that spread throughout her body She fought against it. She wanted to tell him to call her Julie, but she couldn’t quite force the words from her lips It would be one more step toward an intimacy that was already beginning to drown her
She took another bite The sandwich had gone from tasteless to cardboard Having him live in her backyard was definitely not a good idea. Yet without an address, he would go straight back to prison.
Her gaze met his again Damn, did his eyes have to be so blue? Douglas had had blue eyes, but his had been light, not this mysterious deep dusk blue that seemed to see straight into her soul She didn’t want anyone to be able to do that, she wanted her independence But his every expression, every movement, seemed to imprint itself on her
He’d finished the pie and she had received her takeout order. She started to take her billfold from her purse, but he was quicker. He took the bill, pulled some money from his jeans and handed it to the waitress.
When the waitress reluctantly disappeared, the side of his lips with the crook twisted slightly. “They said I had two hundred and fifty-six dollars in my account,” he explained, holding what he hadn’t given to the waitress. “How much were my clothes?”
Two hundred and fifty dollars after ten years! Not much to show for a decade
She hesitated before answering. She didn’t want to take everything he had, yet she knew from the glint in his eyes he was about to insist She had bought him two pair of jeans and three shirts as well as underclothes She thought he would want to purchase what else he would need. She wanted to tell him he could pay her later, but he had a stubborn look on his face, and by now she was accustomed to the pride which he’d managed to preserve throughout his hospital stay and weeks in prison
“One hundred and fifty dollars and some change. I don’t remember exactly.”
He started to count out the money.
“Make it eighty,” she said, “and you can pay me the rest later. You’ll need some more clothes, some food ”
He opened his mouth, and she knew a protest was coming “I -”
She interrupted him. “Why don’t you work it off? I need some work done in the yard and around the house.”
His eyes brightened and tor the first time she saw a hint of a smile “I might just destroy your home.” The trace of a dimple in his chin deepened. The tingling in her extremities started again.
“Everyone said you were good at fixing things. Dr. Dailey said you should remember learned skills And I do have some books I was going to try to fix some things myself, but after flooding my kitchen with water, I decided to leave repairs to experts.”
“I don’t think I qualify, but I think I can manage yard work.”
“Then it’s a bargain.”
He looked at her under those heavy brows. He’d been very careful to keep all his actions and words impersonal, even formal, but now his gaze seemed to be seeing her as a woman, and her heartbeat slowed She felt her face warm under his perusal, somehow feeling wanting. She had pulled her hair back in a clip and, knowing she would be spending long hours in the car, had opted for an old but comfortable pair of slacks and a cotton short-sleeve pullover shirt. Her lipstick was probably long gone
Doug had always wanted her to look perfect. After his death, she had given most of her dress clothes away, retaining only the business suits she wore to work. Since she did much of her work at home, she’d lived in comfortable sweat suits in cool weather and jeans and overlarge shirts in the summer.
Why did she care what Murphy thought? She’d vowed she would never reshape herself again for any man. She’d questioned, in fact, whether she ever wanted to marry again Eligible men her age were scarce. Most were either married, or something was seriously wrong with them.
Like being convicted of murder.
She stood. “Ready to go?” she asked belatedly, hoping that her legs were steadier than her common sense.
He uncoiled himself from the table, took the takeout package and followed her out the door.
Once outside, she took a deep breath of fresh air, then stepped onto the gravel-covered parking lot. Her thoughts were back at the table, her attention lost in the bewildering attraction she felt for Murphy. Her foot slipped in the gravel, and she felt herself falling A strong hand caught her elbow, pulled her upright The other hand went around her to give her balance.
But it didn’t balance her at all Her legs suddenly felt boneless as heat from his touch ignited flames deep inside her She froze, afraid he might feel her reaction, hear the increased tempo of her heart, of her breathing.
His hands lingered, his warm fingers splaying against her skin
He was behind her, and her head hit just under his chin, not far from his heart. She thought she could hear it pounding as she felt a sudden pressure in his hands
She breathed deeply, forcing air from her lungs. Not a good idea, Julie Farrell. Not a good idea at all.
She jerked away, feeling his arms drop as she did so. Her keys were already in her hands and almost blindly she made for the car. But she looked down. She couldn’t afford to stumble again.
Not in any way.
Chapter 9
How in the hell was he going to keep his hands off her?
He wondered that the rest of the way to Atlanta. She’d felt so good for that fraction of a second He’d wanted to hold her there, to feel her against his body. He had only reluctantly let her go
Mrs. Farrell. His attorney. His landlady
His lifeline.
He really hadn’t believed it when the parole board granted his parole, nor was he sure he could function outside a cell, outside of being told what to do every minute of the day. But she had been so sure he could, she’d made him believe he could.
Doubts continued to plague him, however. What if he was a killer? What if that part of him hadn’t been erased as thoroughly as his memory had? Could he earn a living on his own? Would he remember any of those skills Mrs. Farrell—Julie—was positive he would?
He still couldn’t quite believe he was free. He couldn’t see enough of a sky unscarred by bars or fences He looked at all the people in the cars they passed, an
d he wondered what they did, who they loved, where they were going.
Freedom It was exquisitely painful, and he was aware of every sensation: the brush of the wind m his hair, a ray of sun baking his skin, the barely noticeable sweet scent of Mrs Farrell, the marvelous sound of music, the comfortable feel of clothes that didn’t mark him as a convict. All of them made him feel alive, really alive, for the first time since the accident.
After several miles, he had rolled his window down, preferring the rush of air to air-conditioning, the feeling of being closed in. Mrs Farrell hadn’t said anything, so he figured it was all right He’d taken pleasure in watching her fine hair blow against her cheek. Her gray eyes would turn toward him occasionally, and he thought of how appealing they were
He ached to touch her, to simply reach his hand over and touch her shoulder. That need grew stronger, more intense with every mile He controlled that need, though, just as he’d been forced to control all his feelings these past few weeks Prison required a dichotomy of skills. toughness with other cons and constraint with guards. His control faded quickly as he shared the intimacy of the car with a woman who so appealed to him He finally rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes, his senses absorbing, memorizing, cataloging every moment.
When they’d stopped to eat, he’d studied the menu, not quite sure what to get until she mentioned her preference, and then he’d enjoyed every bite Food in prison had been tasteless, but having little but the hospital to compare it to, he’d accepted it as the norm He wondered how many other foods tasted as good as these sandwiches He’d tried to concentrate on them, rather than the woman who sat opposite him
And then she had stumbled, and he’d felt her softness, and something fierce and electric ran through his body His body reacted, and he suddenly felt a tightening in his groin, but then she’d stepped away and nearly raced for the car His chest felt as if a belt were tightening around it He’d had to force himself to get in the car He rolled down the window further, hoping the fresh air would brush away the cobwebs in his mind, cool the heat of his body
“We’ll be home in an hour,” she said, breaking the heavy silence.
Home What was that? He had not the faintest idea He hadn’t had the faintest idea of where to go or how to find a place when she had offered a part of her property to him A garage apartment. He wasn’t quite sure what that involved, but he also understood that she had tried to find him other places. No one had wanted him
And now he would be living close to her and her child. His first reaction was to refuse—she already awakened too many emotions in him—but it was soon made clear that he would not be released unless he accepted. He made a vow then and there she would not regret it
But the long ride with her—with her subtle scent so enticing after the smell of prison—had made him wonder whether both of them had made a mistake.
They were silent as she drove through heavy traffic, then turned off an expressway to a narrower street. Two more turns and she eased into a driveway that ran alongside a brick home She stopped at a gate, and turned to him. “Can you get out and open it?”
Glad to stretch his legs, he opened the car door and then the gate, pulling both sides open and watching as she drove into the yard and parked the car in a garage that had steps running along the outside He closed the gates behind her and waited for her to get out
“It’s not much of an apartment,” she said almost apologetically, “but until you find something else ”
After his cell, anything would be a palace, but he didn’t say anything. He followed her up the steps and waited while she unlocked a door and walked in He followed and swallowed hard when he glanced around the room She had obviously taken pains to brighten it. He walked around it, noted the bookcase filled with books, the television set. She stood at the door watching as he opened a closet door and found two shirts and a coat there He looked at the coat.
“It was my husband’s,” she said. “I hope it fits There’s another pair of jeans and some underwear in the bureau. Extra towels and sheets are in the bottom drawer”
“Your husband?” He suddenly realized how little he knew about her although he remembered one news account saying she was a widow
“He. died five years ago,” she said simply
He nodded and tried another door A bathroom A tub and shower Some toilet things had been laid out on the sink. A real razor, shaving cream
“I put some food in the refrigerator and cabinet,” she said “You might want some time alone.” She hesitated, then added, “My son has been wanting to meet you and thank you. Can you come over for ice cream in—” she looked at her watch “—two hours?”
He nodded. It was little enough after everything she had done for him “I’ll get my things from the car.”
She handed him the key A key. A small thing. Now a very big thing. For a moment, he couldn’t speak
She had been watching him Now she backed away. “If there is anything you need, just knock on my back door. Otherwise I’ll expect you in a couple of hours. You don’t have to stay long.”
He followed her out the door and down the stairs He went to the car and picked up his bag of belongings, carefully locking the car as he had seen her do
“Mrs Farrell?”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Call me Julie. We’re neighbors now.”
“Thank you...for everything.”
He couldn’t force himself to say her name. They were both walking a tightrope. She felt she owed him because of something another man did. He felt he owed her his life, and yet because she was now responsible for him, their relationship was unbalanced, she literally had almost complete control as to whether or not he would go back to prison. It had been her advocacy that had freed him, her promise to find him a job and a place to stay; he was only too aware of the inequality of the ..alliance.
Her face flushed a moment, then she turned and went out the gates, closing them behind her The key clutched in one hand, his bag of belongings in the other, he went upstairs to his new home.
Julie forced herself not to look backward. Nick would be waiting for her at Emily’s. She had been ridiculously anxious that Murphy like the apartment. She had even hoped for a hint of a smile.
But he’d been quiet during the entire drive and their arrival at the apartment She wondered whether he was naturally that quiet, or whether he’d just been absorbing everything. Julie tried to put herself in his position. Because he had no memory, he had no anchor He didn’t know what he was capable of, and what he wasn’t And he had to be the most alone person she had ever met. No family except a former wife, and a daughter who’d apparently chosen to forget him.
She had to give him time Let him make friends. Find out who he was
She went past two houses, then turned up Emily’s walk, only to find Nick bursting out the door.
“He’s been waiting at the window,” Emily said “He saw you drive up It’s been all I could do to keep him in the house ” She looked at Julie with anxious eyes “He’s here?”
She nodded. Emily was another friend who had voiced doubts, especially about Murphy moving into the neighborhood.
Emily shuddered “I really don’t think you should have done that. The neighbors aren’t happy about having a killer here ”
Julie’s body tensed. “He’s not a killer. Do you really think I would put Nick in danger?”
“I think you’ve been blinded because. .he helped you at the accident,” Emily said. “I’m just telling you what everyone thinks.”
“Will you at least meet him before making up your mind?”
“I don’t think so,” Emily said, a hard note in her voice. “And if you want me to drive Nick to preschool, you’ll have to bring him over here ”
Not Emily. Although her friend had advised caution in her crusade to get Murphy released, Julie hadn’t considered she would be so opposed to him living in the neighborhood. But then she hadn’t consulted anyone here. She hadn’t thought
she needed to.
“Can’t he find someplace else to live?” Emily questioned. “A halfway house or something?”
“It’s only temporary,” Julie said.
“Well, we don’t like it.”
“Who is ‘we?’”
“Nearly everyone on these two or three blocks,” Emily said. “Mr. Blalock says—”
“You know Mr. Blalock is a paranoid busybody. I expected something like this from him, but you ..”
“My husband and I have our daughter to think about.”
Julie knew she should be careful, conciliatory, but she could only think of Murphy, how hard he was working to adjust to circumstances that might destroy lesser men Outrage filled her “He’s never touched a child.”
“How do you know? He dealt in drugs. The paper said so. We don’t want people like that around our children. 1 don’t understand how you let him in your house ”
Emily’s face was set, her shoulders rigid, her spme like a steel rod. Julie thought about trying to reason with her, but Nick was staring up at them both with an anxious look on his face
“Not in front of Nick,” she said.
“Why not? He should know—”
“Goodbye, Emily I’ll take Nick to preschool tomorrow. I’ll check in the morning to see whether you want me to take Abby—”
“Don’t bother,” Emily said stiffly. “I’ll take her myself.”
Julie took Nick’s hand in hers. “If that’s what you want.”
“What we want is a safe neighborhood.”
“Goodbye, Emily.”
Julie lifted Nick and gave him a big hug, then put him down and walked back to her own house, mentally cursing the story that appeared in the paper immediately after the hearing A spokesman for the parole board had announced Murphy’s release and the conditions It had. of course, been front page news
Former Assistant D.A. Shelters Killer Cop
The newspapers loved that label Killer Cop. She wondered whether they would ever weary of the story. Probably not. Even she understood the drama of it.
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