by Julie Benson
“I do.” Her voice sounded almost pained. As if she were on the witness stand and the prosecuting attorney had gotten her to admit she’d seen her best friend rob a store clerk at gunpoint.
“Don’t sound so thrilled. Is liking me, wanting to spend time with me, such a bad thing?”
“I have to stay focused. I’m so close. I could finally have the success I’ve waited and worked so long for.”
“You know what they say. All work and no play makes—”
“Emma a boring girl?” she finished for him, her gaze hooded.
His hand slid to the spot where her neck and shoulder met. His thumb gently caressed the sensitive area. He felt a shudder ripple through her. “I was going to say ‘makes Emma come up empty for new song material.’”
“Right. That’s what you were going to say.”
“You have a gift, but when we were practicing I realized something. I can tell the newer pieces you’ve written the minute I start playing. There’s not as much of you in those songs.”
He resisted the urge to pull her closer. The vein in her neck throbbed at a frantic pace, contradicting the cool image she tried so hard to present to the world, but she couldn’t fool him. He knew to back off, though, and handle her with a light touch. The best things were worth the wait.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re holding back. From me. From life.” He leaned closer until he felt her warm breath against his cheek. “We enjoy each other’s company. We have fun. No big deal. Is that so bad?”
He saw her shut down. Her gaze grew distant. She stepped out of his arms and crossed her arms over her chest as if drawing herself inward.
So much for his light touch.
“I think it’s time I went home.”
He nodded and followed her out of the restaurant. When they reached her car, he said, “I’ll follow you to make sure you don’t have any problems.”
“You know what? Before you got here, I managed to get everywhere safe and sound all on my own.”
“It has nothing to do with you not being capable. There are a lot of weird people in the world. Don’t you listen to the news? It’s not smart for a woman to be out alone this time of night.”
“This isn’t New York City.”
“Why does my common courtesy bother you so much?”
“Fine. Follow me home.” She yanked open her car door, slid inside and slammed it shut with enough force to rattle the windows across the street.
He smiled as he got in his car and followed Emma back to Estes Park. She wasted so much energy trying to prove how tough she was. That she didn’t need anyone. That she didn’t need even small courtesies from him. Was it just him, or did she act that way with everyone?
When they reached her apartment building, he joined her on the walkway. “You followed me home. I’m fine. I made it here in one piece. You’ve done your gentlemanly duty. You can leave.”
The more she pushed him away, the more he wanted to reach the woman behind the wall. The one he’d seen glimpses of and felt so drawn to.
“I had fun tonight.”
“I’m not going to ask you to come into my apartment.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” She tilted her head and eyed him as if trying to decide whether he meant what he’d just said. “Remember, I don’t beat around the bush. When I say something, I mean it.”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a light kiss. Then, without another word, he walked back to his car. Yup. Slow and steady. That’s what would win the race with Emma.
* * *
AFTER THE NIGHT at Dick’s Tavern, Emma changed her game plan. Denying her emotions hadn’t worked. Instead she admitted the fact she was attracted to Jamie and that her body came alive anytime he was around. There. The first step to dealing with a problem was openly acknowledging what the problem was.
Now that she’d done that, she developed a two-part solution. Quit fighting her feelings and instead channel all the sexual energy she felt for him into her music. But the key to success lay in the second part of her plan. Avoid Jamie any other time other than rehearsals.
And that’s what she did. She avoided Halligan’s during the day since Mick had scheduled Jamie to work then to accommodate their rehearsal schedule. She’d started closing her door when she worked in her office in case he showed up. Yesterday when he’d brought Trooper in for a weigh-in she’d pretended she wasn’t there when he’d knocked on her door. While she couldn’t say she was happier, she at least felt more under control.
Today when Jamie walked into the garage for rehearsal he marched straight over to her, stopping a few inches in front of her, his dark gaze intent and determined. “How long are you going to avoid me and give me the cold-shoulder treatment during rehearsals?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. With the Pet Walk this weekend it’s been crazy at the shelter. I have so many last-minute things to see to, it hasn’t left me much time for anything else.”
“At least be honest with me. I deserve that.”
Direct hit. “All right. I have been avoiding you. My life has been a disaster the past two years. I finally have it back on track. I don’t want anything to mess this up.”
“And you think I’d do that?”
“I need to stay focused.”
He stepped closer. He stood so close she could see the tiny golden flecks in his brown eyes, but she refused to retreat. “Are you saying you can’t handle me?”
Her throat grew dry. Then she realized what he was doing. She’d missed the first time he’d manipulated her by saying she couldn’t handle something to get her to go to Dick’s Tavern, but his ploy wasn’t going to work this time.
“I know what you’re doing. I don’t know how I missed the old challenge ploy after all the times my brothers pulled that scam on me growing up, but I’m on to you now.”
He had the nerve to smile.
She stood there, trying to think of the best comeback to wipe that grin off his face, but before she could, the garage door squeaked open. Luke sauntered in, followed by Grayson.
“Everyone’s talking about us playing at the Pet Walk.” Luke froze and glanced between her and Jamie. “Everything cool between you two? You look like we interrupted something.”
“We’re fine,” Emma said. “I’m so glad everyone’s talking about the concert. From what Avery said, ticket sales are up, so we should have an even better turnout than last year. Now we need to get to work and run through the numbers we plan to do this weekend.”
Once they started rehearsing, her tension eased. This she could handle. Her world righted as they worked on the music for the concert.
“I thought we’d have to change that section, but you breezed right through it,” Emma said when they finished the latest number.
“That surprised me, too.” Jamie’s face filled with pride.
“You’re sounding more like the guy who played with the Philharmonic every day.”
At Luke’s comment a thought bolted through Emma. Jamie’s hand had improved. As their rehearsals had progressed, she’d realized that fact, but she hadn’t thought about the implications. Somewhere along the line, she’d forgotten about looking for a permanent replacement. What if they did win the contest, and Jamie decided he wanted to return to classical music? What if a position opened up with the Philharmonic? What if he decided to find another symphony? The thought of him leaving, of not seeing him again, left her shaken.
Hadn’t Avery told her to quit borrowing trouble? Now seemed like a good time to put that into practice. If they won, or rather, when they won the contest, she corrected, and if Jamie decided to leave, they’d find someone else. He wasn’t the only fiddle player in the country. With Phillip Brandise’s interest, she bet some of the musicians wh
o claimed they were happy with their bands wouldn’t be quite so content if she contacted them again. The tightness in her chest loosened. A little. Not as much as it should have, though.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m done for the night,” Luke said.
“I’d like to run through a few more numbers. With the Pet Walk this weekend and the competition soon after that, I could use the extra practice,” Jamie said.
“Trust me, you’re ready.” The doubt in his eyes surprised Emma, as did her twinge of concern. “Are there any numbers in particular you’re nervous about?”
Before he could answer, Emma’s phone rang. She mumbled an apology and explained with the Pet Walk she needed to take the call.
“Emma Donovan?” the shaky male voice on the other end asked.
“That’s me. What can I do for you?” she said, expecting to hear a question about the Pet Walk or the concert.
“This is Mark Sinclair. The agency gave me your phone number. My wife and I adopted your son. We named him Andrew.”
She whispered the name, testing it out. Her son’s name was Andrew.
When she’d talked to the agency about being open to communication with the adoptive parents, she wasn’t sure she expected this day would ever come. Or if she did, she imagined it way in the future. Now faced with the reality, questions tumbled over each other in her head, creating an indiscernible chaos.
“I’ve been thinking about your family a lot lately. How is Andrew?”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Mark’s voice broke. “He’s sick. Very sick, and we need your help.”
Panic, white-hot and blinding, rushed through her. She braced against the pain, forcing it back. Now all the odd feelings she’d been having about her son and why he’d been in her thoughts so much made sense. Somehow she’d known he needed her. “What’s wrong and what can I do to help?”
“Andrew had a cancerous brain tumor. The doctor believes they got it all in the surgery, but the chemotherapy damaged his bone marrow. Now he needs a transplant. Carmen and I were tested, but we’re not a match. Andrew’s doctor says one of his birth parents is his best chance.”
She should have been careful what she wished for. She’d wanted to know about her son, possibly even become a part of his life, but not like this. Not because he was sick. What she wouldn’t give to be able to trade places with him.
“Of course I’ll get tested. Can a doctor’s office take care of it or do I need to go to the hospital?”
“Any doctor can take the sample. All he needs to do is swab the inside of your cheek and send it off for typing.” Mark said he’d text her the details on the typing she needed to request and where the results should be sent.
She nodded and glanced at her watch. Her vision blurred and she swiped a hand over her eyes, surprised when they came away wet. Four o’clock. Would her doctor’s office still be open this late on Saturday afternoon? If not, maybe she could go to one of those doc-in-a-box-type places. “I’ll get the test taken care of today.”
“I appreciate you doing this,” Mark said, and then he sighed. “I’m praying you’ll be a match, but in case you aren’t, do you know how I can reach the birth father? The agency doesn’t have current information on him.”
That didn’t surprise her. When she’d asked Tucker if he’d wanted to meet with prospective parents, he’d said whoever she chose was fine with him. Then he’d told her to send him whatever he needed to sign in order to relinquish his parental right and said he never wanted to discuss the “issue” again. How could any man refer to his child like that?
He certainly wouldn’t be thrilled with anyone contacting him. Too bad. No matter how hard she and Tucker wished otherwise, they were connected and always would be. How could one small moment in time change her life so profoundly and on so many levels? She hadn’t realized that when she’d become intimate with Tucker. All she’d thought about was how much she loved him. “I haven’t talked to him since we broke up, but his parents still live here part-time.”
Thankfully once his career had taken off, Tucker had quit visiting his parents in Estes Park, instead preferring to fly them to Nashville. Then, a couple of years ago, he’d bought a house for them there, as well.
“We’d like him to get tested, too. In case you’re not a match.”
“I’ll text you their phone number, but hopefully we won’t have to worry about that. I’m praying I’ll be a match.” But she couldn’t blame Andrew’s father for wanting to hedge his bets.
After she ended the call, what she’d learned tumbled over in her mind. Brain tumor. Cancer. Chemo. Her heart bled for the child she’d never known. No seven-year-old should have to deal with those issues. A coldness swept through her.
“What’s wrong?”
The concern in Jamie’s voice and his warm hand on her icy skin broke through the wall holding her together. Tears stung her eyes and her chest tightened. Her heart banged against her ribs, threatening to break through. “Something’s come up. We’re done for the day.” Then, not wanting anyone to see her fall apart even further, she darted out of the garage.
She ran for the safety of her car. Her brain wouldn’t function. All she could think about was the fact that the son she’d never had a chance to know might die. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook from the pain coursing through her.
The passenger door opened, startling her. She swiped a hand over her face, wiping away the remnants of her tears as Jamie slid into the passenger seat. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”
She tried to speak but she couldn’t push the words past her tight throat.
“Take deep breaths.” His reassuring voice broke through her fog. Her gaze sought his calm one as she shut out everything but him and matched her breathing with his. “You mentioned a test. Start with that.”
“My son’s name is Andrew and he’s sick. That was his father, Mark, on the phone. He needs a bone marrow transplant. I need to get tested to see if I’m a match.”
“What do you need to do? Can a doctor do the test?”
She nodded. “But I don’t remember if my family practitioner is open late on Saturdays.”
“Call and find out.”
She nodded. Her hands shook as she opened her purse and dug around for her phone. After she called the office, she turned to Jamie. “They’re open until five. The nurse said they’ll work me in when I get there.” The fear welled up inside of her again. “Andrew’s father said he had a brain tumor. The chemo has damaged his bone marrow so that’s why he needs the transplant.”
Saying the words out loud made them so much more real. She bit her lip to keep from crying. What if she wasn’t a match? Dizziness swamped her.
“Change places with me.”
She turned to Jamie. “What? I don’t understand.”
“You’re in no shape to drive. You’re pale and you’re shaking.”
She glanced at her hands. Yup. Shaking like a newborn foal. “I guess the fact that I didn’t eat lunch, combined with the stress, is getting to me. I’ll be fine. I just need a minute to calm down.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive.”
She started to argue but stopped. He had the same stubborn look in his eyes as he’d had that night they’d found Trooper and he hadn’t wanted her going out alone. “You’re going to be stubborn about this again, aren’t you?”
“You got that right.”
Okay, then. That settled that. She opened her car door. As she changed places with him, she had to admit she kind of liked him going all caveman and laying down the law because he was concerned about her.
Chapter Eleven
As Jamie sat waiting for Emma, he couldn’t help but admire her strength. When she’d first told him about the phone call in the car he’d seen how pa
le she was. The pain had been evident in her face and in her voice. Then, right before his eyes, she’d sucked it up, turned all-business and went into get-the-job-done mode. She’d never considered any option but helping her son.
The woman’s backbone was made of steel, but her heart was as sweet, soft and gooey as one of his mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.
What would it be like to have a woman like that in his life? One he could count on when things got tough. Oh, let’s say when a guy hurt his hand and had to face the fact that he might need to start over in a new career?
A woman like Emma would give him the strength to tackle the worst life could throw at him, and she wouldn’t stand behind him. She’d stand beside him every step of the way.
He thought about rehearsal. Since he’d been playing with the band he’d noticed the dexterity returning to his left hand, but today showed him how far he’d come. Last week he wouldn’t have been able to play the song he had today.
Maybe it was time to try playing music he’d performed with the Philharmonic. That would be the true test. He should do that tonight when he got back to Mick’s.
He flexed his hand. Funny how it didn’t look any different, and yet he knew it was. Maybe he wouldn’t be forced to reinvent himself after all. The thought should have him ready to crack open the champagne, but instead he found the idea unsettling. If he returned to his old life, what would he find waiting for him other than his career? Not much more than a few acquaintances who, once he was out of sight, had forgotten he existed.
And what about Emma?
What had he said to her at Dick’s Tavern that night? Something like they enjoyed each other’s company and had fun. No big deal. He’d been so full of it.
She understood him in a way no one else did. Her enthusiasm, her love of music was infectious. He found himself looking forward to seeing her every day.
The door to the exam rooms opened and she walked out, her face drawn. “All done. They’ve put a rush on the test because Andrew is so sick.” Her voice broke and tears pooled in her eyes. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “Dr. Sampson said I should know in a few days.”
