Cheryl knew there was something more going on, and she reached out her hand in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
His shrug didn’t fool her for a moment.
“At least nothing for you to worry about.”
“Now who’s being patronizing,” Cheryl said, but her voice was gentle and Noah looked up. “Tell me,” she urged, then, sensing his reluctance, she joked, “Believe me, Noah, this amnesia is wearing thin. I need to worry about something. Anything,” she added.
Noah finally relented. “I’ve never felt more useless in my life,” he admitted. “And the crack about filling up water bowls didn’t exactly help. I told you the storm was supposed to hit Corpus Christi—a city north of here.”
Cheryl nodded. That much she knew.
“Well, Mitch and I—the fire chief,” he added, “we were already worried that the weather bureau had got it wrong and that the storm was in fact heading this way, even before the bureau changed its prediction. I was only supposed to be dropping off the animals and securing the clinic before heading back into town to help. They’re going to have one helluva night. The poor bastards who came here to escape the storm are stuck in the middle of it now. There’s going to be a lot of injuries, people could be killed, and I can’t even let Mitch know that I’m not able to get back.”
“Mitch will know the roads are flooded,” Cheryl soothed. “He’ll understand why you can’t be there.”
“I know that,” Noah responded, “but it’s just hard listening to the news bulletins, knowing I’m needed, and instead of being able to help, I’m stuck here and there’s not a single thing I can do—”
“Except save a life.” Her voice cut in, halting his frustrated words. “You saved my life, Noah. You can play it down, pretend it was no big deal, but the simple truth is that if you hadn’t been there, I’d have died, and you know that as well as I do.”
Blue eyes met hers, and the frown that had marred his features faded.
“Not bad for a day’s work, huh?”
“Are you always so positive?”
Cheryl gave a low laugh. “When I find out, I’ll be sure and let you know. So when’s the storm going to hit? When does it make landfall?”
“Around midnight, according to the news, but the damage has already started.”
“What do we need to do?” Cheryl asked, but Noah just shrugged.
“Sit tight. That’s about all we can do. There’s not a lot I can do for the animals during a storm. It’s all about preparation before it hits, especially in a flood zone like Turning Point.” He saw the confusion in her eyes. “For example, if there’s even a chance of a flood, you have to drive dairy cattle out of the barn.”
Cheryl blinked. “Why?”
“Because cattle often refuse to leave when there’s rapidly rising water, and you could lose the whole lot. Once they’re out, they pretty much stay out, unlike pigs.”
“Pigs?”
“They head for home when they’re scared. Even if their sty’s burning to the ground, they’ll try and get back in.”
“So your work’s pretty much done now?”
“I wish.” He shook his head sadly. “The hard part comes after the hurricane hits. Rounding up herds, repairing injuries, dealing with mastitis—”
“Mastitis!”
Her aghast look brought a welcome smile to his tired face.
“Who gets mastitis?”
“The dairy cows. If they don’t get milked…” His voice petered out. “You get the picture.”
“I’m starting to, and I’m sorry if I came across as…”
“Forget it.” Noah waved her apology away. “I was being oversensitive.”
“So how about that bath now? I really do feel much better.”
Noah sighed. “Why did I have to go and pull such a stubborn woman out of the river?”
“Instead of a meek and mild one?” Cheryl teased. “I promise not to faint on you, Noah. In fact, once I’m clean and in fresh clothes, and if you can rustle up a comb for me, I’ll be so meek and mild you won’t even know that I’m here.”
“I doubt it.” Noah grinned. “Okay, but on one condition—I wait outside. The last thing we need is you fainting again.”
“Okay,” Cheryl grumbled.
“Good girl.”
Strange how even the smallest praise from him made her blush; strange that the hand that was tucking the blanket around her didn’t feel quite so comforting all of a sudden.
Pleasantly disturbing would be a more accurate description. And from the way his gaze was holding hers now, Noah was feeling the same. His hand tucked away a loose curl that had strayed across her cheek, popping it behind her ear. His fingers dusted her throat as she gave a nervous swallow, and Cheryl didn’t need to rely on memory to understand the sudden shift in tempo, didn’t need an explanation as to why her nipples were jutting into the blanket as he stared down at her. And even though there was a power-outage, there was enough electricity crackling between them to light the whole of Turning Point, Cheryl thought. Something blessedly simple fell into place in her confused mind. A delicious, primitive instinct reared its head, and in that instant it wasn’t her rescuer staring down at her, wasn’t the consummate professional who had tended to her wounds, it was a man, and the look he was giving her was loaded with lust.
A bark from Madge broke the spell, and Noah stood up quickly.
“Wait there and I’ll see if I can rustle up a new toothbrush.” It was an obvious attempt at casual, but his voice was unusually gruff.
“Sweet talker,” Cheryl called to his departing back, making her own effort to keep things light, trying to sound as if the last couple of moments hadn’t taken place, because it was easier to joke.
Easier to keep things light. Easier than facing the truth.
A storm was brewing and about to make landfall—but on both sides of the window.
Something had to give.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS LIKE glimpsing heaven.
Candles were everywhere, flickering around the sink and tub; Cheryl stepped inside, a curious scent she couldn’t place teased her nostrils.
“Eucalyptus?”
She watched Noah’s strong hands curve through the water, working the lather into foam.
“Close,” he said. “It’s from Australia, so you’re in the right country at least. This is tea-tree oil.”
“The stuff they use to treat nits!” Cheryl shuddered. “You’re not about to tell me that you found a few when you were examining me?”
“It’s an antiseptic, as well.” Noah laughed at her horrified expression. “And it also has healing and soothing properties. I use it a lot.”
“On the animals?”
“On myself, too.” He grinned at the rather startled note in her voice. “It’s good for minor cuts, and you’ve got more than your fair share.”
Cheryl clutched the blanket around her breasts, but darkening bruises and cuts were visible on her arms and exposed shoulders.
Noah moved toward her, his hand extended, then drew back. Clearing his throat, he stood stock-still. “That looks sore. I put some lavender in, as well. It will take away the tea-tree smell, but it’s also supposed to…”
“Relax you,” she finished, feeling oddly nervous. The blanket slipped, revealing more than a glimpse of cleavage, but thankfully Noah’s reflexes were like lightning. His warm hand finally made contact as he caught the blanket, saving her dignity. But the effect of his touch on her naked skin thrilled her more than it should have.
Noah was obviously struggling with his own response. Snatching his hand back, he was backing quickly out of the bathroom.
“Enjoy,” he croaked, practically out the door now.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, Cheryl wanted to prolong his departure, when only a short while ago, she’d have given anything to be left alone.
“It’s beautiful, Noah—the bathroom, I mean.” The comment was sincere.
A huge claw-foot bath stood in the middle of a vast room, and the fixtures and fittings were all antique.
“Everything looks better by candlelight.” He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Actually, it’s the only finished room in the house, so I am kind of proud of it. The whole place needs a lot of work. I keep swearing I’ll get around to fixing things up, but so far this is the only room I’ve managed to do.”
“What’s this?” Her eyes were drawn to a dark wooden box that stood on an old-fashioned dresser, and she ran her fingers over the numerous wooden drawers hidden in the elaborate carvings.
“It’s supposedly called a Wünderbox,” he explained. “Apparently it was my great-great-grandmother’s, given to her by her aunt.”
“Was she German?”
Noah gave an apologetic shrug but still didn’t look at her. “I think her aunt had lived in Germany at some point, but my great-great-grandmother was Polish.”
“What was her name?”
“Ewa.” Noah smiled. “Ewa Jankarski. But enough about me. You have your bath now and try to relax. I’ll just be outside.”
RELAX!
Cheryl sat shivering in the tepid water. How was she supposed to relax with branches scraping angrily at the windows, wind whipping around the roof and a six-foot-four mountain of testosterone on the other side of the door?
Who was she and what the hell was she doing here?
The questions had haunted her since she’d first come to, but without Noah beside her, without the quiet assuredness his presence brought, there was nothing between her and the frightening absence of answers. Staring down at her battered body was the scariest part of all. To finally comprehend the very real danger she’d been in and not know what had happened was almost too much to bear.
Pulling her knees up to her chest, Cheryl hugged them tightly to her and forced herself to take deep breaths, praying for her panic to pass.
NOAH WASN’T DOING great, either.
Pacing the floor like an expectant father in a hospital corridor, he wrestled with the temptation to knock on the door to check if she was okay.
He shouldn’t have left her, should never have agreed to let her have a bath.
What had he been thinking?
What if she collapsed or fainted? What then?
He was almost tempted to peep through the keyhole, but the thought of trying to explain his actions held him back until he was sure she’d had more than enough time to wash. He gave a brisk knock on the door.
“How are you doing in there?”
“Fine.”
He wasn’t convinced.
“You’re okay?”
“Noah, I’m fine.”
“Not feeling dizzy or anything? You’re not going fall asleep on me?”
“I’m pulling the plug out now” came the answer.
“Well, hurry up and we can both get something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
She was about to call out a murmur of thanks, but as she was wiping the steam from the mirror, something stirred inside, a horrible memory. Wood snapping. Hands frantically gripping the steering wheel. Struggling to gain control as everything around her fell apart—
“Cheryl?”
She could hear Noah calling her name, a note of anxiety in his voice as he waited for her response. But it was as if his voice were coming from afar now. Her reflection seemed so unfamiliar as she stared back, wiping the mirror again, catching sight of the long damp brown hair that framed her sallow face. Seeing the scar above her left cheek, she lifted her hand and fingered it, peering closer into the mirror and admiring Noah’s handiwork.
He’d done a good job, Cheryl noted. The edges were beautifully aligned, and he’d used 6/0 nylon—the finest of threads to assure the minimum of scarring.
6/0 nylon.
The words resounded in her head. How did she know what thread he had used? How could she know that? She stared at the scar, struggling to capture images that seemed to slip away as quickly as they appeared. A strangled sob of terror escaped her lips as the mirror steamed up again, as the windows on the Jeep fogged over, as the bridge started collapsing around her. Her hands flew to her eyes and she attempted to shut it all out, to block away memories too painful to visit—
“You’re safe.”
Strong arms were holding her, just as they had before, and a deep, steady voice was pulling her back from danger.
“Cheryl, you’re safe.”
“I remembered something. I was looking at my stitches. Somehow I knew the type of thread that you’d used.” Sobs racked her body, and she clung to him, her head buried in his chest. She could feel his cheek against hers, his lips gently shushing her as he held her tighter. “It was horrible—the windows were steaming up and the bridge was giving way. I knew I was going to die. I can still feel it, still hear Buster barking.” She hesitated. Another memory pinged back and promptly slipped away as horror overtook her once more. “I can remember what it felt like to know for sure I was going to die. Oh, God, Noah, I really thought I was about to die and no one would even know….”
“You’re safe.” He said it for the third time, only this time she allowed herself to be reassured, to hold on to the one thing she knew in this lonely, scary world, the one thing that was good and kind and safe—Noah.
There was a subtle shift in her response to him. He still comforted her, but as she became aware of her nakedness, the innocence of a moment ago was missing. She could feel his hand on her damp soft skin, was achingly aware of her breasts pressed against him. The rise and fall of his chest stirred her nipples into a heightened awareness, and his breath was warm and soft on her cheek. Like a flower to the sun, she turned her lips toward Noah’s, her eyes holding his. There was nothing left to do but close the tiny distance that separated them. Noah seemed to realize that, too, and their lips met with exquisite gentleness, not moving, just touching. Her eyes closed as he drew her in closer, an urgency prevailing now as his cool tongue, as sweet and decadent as candy, explored her softly parted lips. His other hand tangled in her scented hair, and his kiss blazed a scorching trail through her body. Cheryl felt the pounding of her heart, and another distant, insistent pulse flickered to life deep inside her. As the kiss deepened, their tongues mingling, the heavy weight of his arousal pressed against her thigh, and she arched her back. His lips traced the hollow of her throat, moving down to her bruised collarbone, taking away the pain and replacing it with something infinitely more pleasurable. She yearned for him to move lower, to take her swollen breasts, to cool them with the feathery stroke of his tongue….
“Cheryl….”
She anticipated his detachment even before he said her name and she gently pulled away.
“Cheryl, we can’t.” He was reaching for a towel now, wrapping it around her. “We can’t,” he said again, as if he were trying to convince himself more than her. “I don’t know anything about you, and you don’t know anything about yourself, who you are, where you’re from….”
“Oh, yes.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Disappointment flooded her veins when only seconds before, ecstasy had prevailed. “I could be a drifter, an animal abuser….”
“You could be married, Cheryl.” His voice was thick with regret. “You could be a wife and a mother. You could be engaged, getting married this weekend. Who knows who we could be hurting if we see this through?”
She almost wept with frustration. It would have been so very easy to go on loving him back.
But Noah was right.
“We’d be hurting ourselves, too, Cheryl.” His eyes were imploring her to understand. “If we take things further, what’s going to happen when we have to say goodbye?” His voice was firmer now. “I should never have let things go so far. It was never my intention when I came in. I heard you call out…I thought you were…”
“Don’t be sorry.” She forced a gentle smile. “It was a kiss, Noah, that’s all. And if my name is really Tiffany, if your p
rediction comes true and I’m married with three kids, then…” She gave a small shrug. “Well, given the circumstances, one tiny kiss is hardly grounds for divorce.”
“You understand why I had to stop things?”
Cheryl gave a reluctant nod, but forced a bright smile. “Let’s forget it happened.”
But it wasn’t just a kiss for Cheryl. Trying to go back, to rewind a few moments and erase what had just taken place was like asking for the moon to be taken down and packed away. She could still taste him, feel the warmth on her back where his hand had caressed her skin. He walked out of the bathroom and she quickly dragged a comb through her hair and dressed in the surgical blues he’d left for her. Blowing out the candles and walking out of the bathroom herself as if nothing had taken place was the hardest feat imaginable.
Cheryl held on to the banister as his flashlight guided her down the stairs. The storm was stirring up more than just emotions now. The sky was black outside, the wind screeched a haunting melody and not for the first time that day, Cheryl felt real fear.
“It’s getting close.” Noah’s face was grim in the beam of the flashlight, shadows sharpening his cheekbones. “We’d better move into the clinic now.” Picking up the portable radio, he headed for the window and took one last look outside.
Cheryl joined him, staring in nervous awe at the ominous sky. Trees were bending like rubber, and belts of rain were lashing the windows so fiercely, Cheryl found herself stepping back.
As Noah stared out at the black swirling landscape, Cheryl could feel the tension emanating from him.
“The animals will be terrified,” he said.
“They’re safe, though.”
Noah shrugged. “The ones I’ve got here are.” Still he stared out the window. “It’s the ones I don’t know about that worry me. A storm panics animals much the same way fireworks do. Unless they’ve been trained to cope, storms just send them into a frenzy of panic. They lose all sense of reality. Tiny dogs jump huge fences, and if they can’t do that, then they’ll burrow their way out. Cats are the same. Their instinct tells them to run and they just keep going, trying to outrun the storm. By the time they stop, they’re bruised and fractured, exhausted and thirsty.” He looked over at her and smiled. “A bit like I found you.”
Washed Away Page 8
