Secretly Yours

by Gina Wilkins

  She ran out of energy while dusting Trevor’s office. Overwhelmed for a moment by a wave of weariness, she sank onto his sofa and leaned her head back. She would have liked to spend the rest of the evening sitting in her rocker with a book and a cup of tea, but that wasn’t possible. It had been a long day and it still wasn’t over. She needed a few minutes to recharge before she continued. She closed her eyes, took several deep, cleansing breaths and pictured a quiet beach in her mind.

  “Are you okay?”

  Trent’s deep voice brought Annie’s eyes open in a hurry. She hadn’t even heard him enter the room. “I’m fine,” she assured him, jumping to her feet. “Just resting.”

  He caught her arm when she would have bustled past him. “Annie?”

  She’d worn a short-sleeve T-shirt with her jeans, so his palm was pressed against bare skin. She felt his warmth, the roughness of calluses, the strength of his long fingers. His head was bent toward her, making her vividly aware of the difference between her five feet three inches and his six-foot height.

  The last time she’d stood this close to him, he’d been too distracted by pain even to notice her, and she’d been so concerned about him that she’d hardly been aware of his proximity. At least, she’d tried not to notice. But he was hardly incapacitated this time. In fact, he looked strong and solid and heart-stoppingly virile. She swallowed. “What?”

  He searched her face. “You look tired.”

  She wrinkled her nose, trying to hide her self-consciousness behind a quip. “Just what every woman wants to hear. Thanks.”

  His mouth twisted in a half smile. “The fact that you look tired doesn’t make you any less attractive. How many houses did you clean today?”

  “Um—three,” she murmured, bemusedly wondering if he had just actually said he found her attractive.

  He shook his head. “Three in one day is too many, especially when you work here in the evenings. Did you take time for lunch?”

  “I had some errands to run at lunchtime. I drank a liquid-meal replacement.”

  His frown deepened. “At least tell me you’re finished for the day.”

  “I have a piano lesson at seven, but I’m through after that.”

  “And tomorrow? What’s your schedule then?”

  “On Saturdays, I clean a real estate office and an accounting firm. And I’m giving another piano lesson tomorrow afternoon. Why are you suddenly so interested in my schedule?”

  “Because I can tell you’re trying to do too much. Jamie told me you’re getting swamped with calls for cleaning and piano lessons. I hope you realize you have to say no sometimes. You can always keep a waiting list if you get more requests than you can handle comfortably.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Trent, but I’m quite capable of arranging my own schedule.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “Then why do you look so exhausted?”

  “You just caught me resting for a minute. I’m fine, Trent. Really.”

  “But…”

  She leveled him a look. “Do you want me to start asking about whether you’re trying to do too much at my place?”

  “Uh—no.”

  “Then back off, McBride.”

  He broke into a full grin—and the sheer beauty of it took her breath away. “You really like to think you’re tough, don’t you?”

  She had to clear her throat before she could speak. She hoped her voice sounded relatively normal. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  He reached up with his free hand to brush a strand of hair away from her cheek. “You’d have to be. You look like a strong wind would blow you over.”

  Something deep inside her quivered in response to his touch. Her voice was definitely huskier this time. “I’d, uh, better get moving.”

  “Yeah.” But he didn’t release her arm.

  She looked up inquiringly, her gaze sliding over his face and pausing on his mouth. “Trent?”

  He seemed to be looking at her mouth, too. “Mmm?”

  “You’re still holding my arm.”

  He was standing so close his breath ruffled her hair. “I know.”

  “So are you going to…” Her voice faded as her attention locked on the slight indention in his lower lip.

  His fingers flexed against her arm, sliding against her skin. “Am I going to what?”

  Annie felt her throat contract. Was she imagining things, or was he suddenly looking at her as if the attraction she’d felt for him from the beginning wasn’t all one-sided? “Trent, I—”

  As if something had suddenly galvanized him into action, he abruptly released her arm and stepped back. “Are you finished here?” he asked, his tone gruff.

  She blinked. “I—yes, I think so.”

  “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

  She looked around to make sure she hadn’t lost anything. Her mind, for instance. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  She carried the plastic tote and Trent followed with her vacuum cleaner. They loaded them into her car and Trent closed the trunk. “The days are getting longer,” he commented, glancing at the cloudless sky.

  She nodded, wondering if this was an attempt at making small talk—something he’d rarely bothered with before. When things get too intense, talk about the weather, she’d always heard. “It’s getting warmer, too,” she said a bit too brightly. “It will be summer soon.”

  “You know how hot summers can get around here?”

  Perhaps this was his way of finding out more about her without actually asking personal questions. “I grew up in Atlanta. I’m well familiar with summers in this area.”

  He glanced at his watch. “You said you have a piano lesson at seven?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t give you much time for dinner. Want to stop by Cora’s with me for a quick sandwich?”

  Startled, she hesitated a moment before answering. Was he asking her out—or was this just a friendly gesture to repay her for the meals she had prepared for him? When she spoke, it was a lame, “Uh—you mean now?” Oh, great, Annie. Real intelligent comment.

  “Yes, now. You’ve got about forty-five minutes and Cora’s is close by. You must be hungry—I know I am.”

  She had planned to get a drive-through burger and eat in her car, which was undoubtedly the wisest course to take. Yet Trent’s offer sounded so much more interesting. She accepted before she had a chance to change her mind. “Okay, but I’ll have to hurry.”

  “Then let’s go. I’ll follow you.”

  She climbed into her car, wondering as she started the engine if she really had lost her mind.

  “WELL, HEY, Trent. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  Resisting an impulse to wince in response to the loud greeting, Trent merely nodded, instead, to the wide-hipped, frizzy-haired waitress who welcomed them to Cora’s Café. “Hey, Mindy. How have you been?”

  “Same as always,” forty-something Mindy Hooper replied cheerfully. “Still pushing food for grouchy ol’ Cora. Been working here more than twenty years, and Cora still has trouble remembering my name.” Her hearty laugh indicated that she was only joking.

  Aware that many of the diners in the always-crowded, long-established café were watching them with interest, Trent was reminded of why he hadn’t gone out in public much since his accident. Everyone always seemed to be staring at him, speculating about him, waiting for him to give them a clue to his thoughts or feelings. They wanted to know about the accident. About his current physical condition. About his plans for the future. They wanted to know what had happened to the Trent McBride they used to know. He had no answers for them.

  If he hadn’t been so determined to make sure Annie took time to eat, he wouldn’t have subjected himself to this attention. It wasn’t a date, he assured himself. He just hadn’t liked the tired and drawn way she had looked when he’d caught her resting in Trevor’s office.

  “We’ve only got a half hour or so, Mindy,” he said, focusing on her instead of the other patrons.
“Have you got some sandwiches made up or something?”

  “I can do better than that. You two go sit down and I’ll have a couple of blue plate specials out in no time.”

  “We appreciate it.” He motioned Annie toward one of the few empty tables, ignoring everyone else as he followed her across the room.

  “What do you suppose is on the blue plate special?” she asked, sinking into her chair.

  “Whatever it is, it will be hot and filling—just what you need.”

  She laughed softly. “Now you sound like your mother.”

  “Low blow, Annie.”

  “I think it’s sweet that you’re suddenly concerned about whether I’m eating enough.”

  He grimaced. She was calling him sweet again—even though he knew she was teasing him. He was going to have to try harder to resist these impulses to be nice to her before she formed an entirely wrong idea about his character. “I just want you to stay healthy so you can keep cleaning my house,” he muttered.

  Annie just laughed.

  True to her promise, Mindy appeared then with heaping plates of food. The blue plate special turned out to be chicken-fried steak with cream gravy, green beans cooked with pork seasoning and brown-sugar-glazed carrots. Soft rolls the size of Trent’s fist accompanied the meal.

  Annie looked at him comically after Mindy bustled away. “Can you imagine how many calories and fat grams are on this plate?”

  “No.” He picked up his fork. “I don’t care. I’m hungry.”

  She smiled and cut into her meat. “So am I.”

  To his satisfaction, she ate heartily. A few extra calories and fat grams wouldn’t hurt her this once, he figured. As for him—well, he still wasn’t back in preaccident shape, himself. He hadn’t had much appetite during the past months. Tonight he was hungry.

  “My grandmother used to make chicken-fried steak for me,” he heard himself saying, though he hadn’t actually planned to initiate a conversation. Still, it seemed sort of rude to eat in silence. “She died when I was just a kid, but I remember her cooking.”

  Annie seemed encouraged by the personal tidbit. “My grandmother on my mother’s side was French. She made pastries like you wouldn’t believe. She promised when I was old enough she would teach me her recipes, but she died when I was only ten.”

  “Didn’t your mother learn the recipes?”

  It intrigued him the way her expressive face suddenly blanked. “My mother doesn’t cook,” she said, little emotion revealed in her voice.

  Every time he asked about her past, she clammed up. Withdrew. He kept his tone casual as he asked, “So who cooked for you when you were growing up?”

  “Other people,” she said evasively.

  “I see.” He’d obviously stumbled upon a sensitive spot. “Are your parents still living?”

  “Yes, but I don’t see them often. Tell me about the remodeling project your father and brother are planning. What does Trevor want you to do?”

  She’d very efficiently erected a No Trespassing sign around the subject of her personal life. Trent would honor her wishes—for now. “He wants to replace all the pine cabinetry with a darker, richer wood in a more traditional style. Something more dignified and lawyerly.”

  “Lawyerly?” She smiled as she repeated the word. “Is that an established decorating term?”

  “If it’s not, it should be. He said he wants to project an image. Dark woods—cherry, mahogany, maybe walnut—glass-fronted barrister cases, hunting prints and leather. He wants to start around the first of June, which will give me time to do your painting first.”

  He had already purchased the paint in the color she’d chosen for her bedrooms and hallways. The cans were stacked, along with the painting supplies he would be using, in one of the two small, empty bedrooms in the three-bedroom house. He had decided to paint the inside of the house first, to brighten up her living quarters, and she had agreed with an eagerness that had told him she was tired of being surrounded by dull, dirty walls.

  “I know you’ll do a great job at the law firm’s offices,” she said. “Have you considered taking more commissions?”

  “Starting a cabinetry business, you mean?” He shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll see how this job for Trevor works out. If I screw that up, no one else will want to hire me.”

  “You won’t screw up.” She looked amused by the idea. “As beautiful as your work is, I think you’ll be in big demand.”

  It was something he’d been considering for the past couple of months. As his mother had pointed out on numerous occasions, it was past time for him to stop mourning his broken dreams and get on with his life. Cabinetry had certainly never been a career plan for him—but now that the only job he’d ever really wanted was out of the question, he had to come up with an alternative.

  His vision loss meant that he could no longer work as a pilot, but the woodworking he’d always enjoyed as a hobby was still a viable possibility. His trick back could prove problematic at times, but if he used reasonable care, hired an assistant for the heavy stuff and gave himself plenty of time for each job to allow for the bad days, he should be able to make a satisfactory living. Hardly a glamorous career—not like jockeying a fighter jet—but it would give him a purpose his life had been lacking lately.

  He couldn’t see himself working nine to five behind a desk, but being self-employed, working with wood and his tools, seemed like a life he could tolerate. He could take the commissions that appealed to him, turn down the ones that didn’t, live simply and quietly—all in all, it didn’t sound so bad. If he couldn’t fly.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said with a shrug. “What about you? Do you have any goals beyond cleaning houses and teaching kids to play piano?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “I’ve only recently struck out on my own. I’ve been concentrating on getting on my feet financially. I haven’t had time to make long-term plans.”

  He slipped smoothly past her No Trespassing sign. “What were you running from, Annie? A bad marriage?”

  “No. I’ve never been married.” She glanced from her nearly empty plate to her watch. “I’d better go. I don’t want to be late for my piano lesson.”

  Mindy stopped by the table and set the check in front of Trent. “Can I get y’all anything else?”

  “No, that’s everything. Thanks, Mindy,” he said.

  “You bet. Give my best to your family. And next time you talk to that sister of yours, tell her to stop by when she’s in town, okay? I haven’t seen Tara and that good-looking husband of hers in ages. And I bet their little girl is growing up fast.”

  “Yes. Alison’s walking, and talking a mile a minute these days. Blake’s even teaching her to juggle. She should have it mastered by the time she’s two.”

  Mindy giggled. “Sounds like she’s as smart as her mama.”

  “I’d like to pay for my own meal,” Annie said when Mindy had walked away.

  “Forget it. I asked you, remember?” He dared her with his eyes to argue.

  Wisely, she didn’t try. “Then I’ll thank you and be on my way.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” He rose with her and tossed a bill on the table, enough to cover the meals and provide a generous tip.

  He felt the eyes on him again as he escorted Annie out. Again, he ignored them. He didn’t even nod to the people he knew for fear of being detained. They’d probably talk about how rude and unfriendly he’d been, but big deal. There was nothing folks around here liked better than talking about the McBrides.

  It was just getting darker outside, and a stiff, early-spring breeze put a slight chill in the air that had been pleasantly warm earlier. Proving that she’d learned a great deal about the local citizens during the relatively short time she had lived here, Annie looked up at Trent as they reached her car and said, “I guess everyone in town will be speculating tomorrow about why you and I had dinner together this evening.”

  He shrugged. “I’m used to being talked
about, but I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She unlocked her car door. “Thanks again for the meal, Trent.”

  The breeze had ruffled her glossy, brown hair, tossing a strand into her face and over her left eye. Without thinking about it, he reached out to smooth it back. He hadn’t planned to let his fingers trail across the soft skin of her cheek, nor to allow them to linger, tangled in the hair at the side of her face. He hadn’t deliberately moved closer, so they stood toe-to-toe, his head bent so that their faces were very close together. He didn’t intend to get lost in her big, brown eyes—but he did.

  It had been a long time since he’d kissed a pretty woman, he found himself thinking. It was something he hadn’t given much thought to lately, being so absorbed in his other problems. He was giving it serious thought now.

  He saw her lips tremble and knew she must have read the temptation in his eyes. He dropped his hand and stepped back—not from lack of desire or concern about their surroundings, but because he wasn’t sure just where an impulsive kiss would lead them.

  If she was disappointed, she didn’t let it show. She looked quickly away. “I’ll see you next week,” she said, sliding into her car.

  He nodded, then stood where he was while she backed out of her parking space and drove away.

  Someone called his name from across the parking lot. He turned his head and recognized a former classmate from high school. Nice enough guy, but a real talker, hard to get away from once he got started. Trent raised a hand in greeting, then climbed quickly into his truck to avoid being caught up in conversation.

  THOUGH HE TRIED to focus on other things that evening, Annie haunted Trent’s thoughts after he left her. He attempted to watch TV, but couldn’t concentrate for worrying about how frail and tired she’d looked when he’d caught her resting in Trevor’s office. He made an effort to work on his plans for the law firm’s cabinetry, but found himself remembering the sincerity in Annie’s voice when she’d told him how much she admired his work. He lay in bed later and remembered her bleak expression when she’d told him she wasn’t in contact with her parents.