by Liz Talley
Scarlet slipped between the two curtains and nearly stepped on Adam’s foot. His gaze met hers and she knew he’d been listening. It should have offended her. It didn’t.
“What are you doing here?” She retreated a step.
“I worked the wreck and followed the ambulance here after they loaded the two women into the copter.”
“Oh.” She rubbed her arms to chase away the sudden chill. Or maybe she felt guilty about the pleasure that welled at seeing him. “Do you know anything about her mother? She’s asking.”
He shook his head. “It didn’t look good. She’d lost a lot of blood, but they have a good trauma team in Shreveport.”
Scarlet felt her heart sink. “I told her I’d try to find out.”
He took her elbow in a comforting gesture. “Let’s go to the nurses’ desk and see if we can sweet talk one of them into checking for us.”
She allowed him to escort her toward the triage desk. Charlie wasn’t in sight, but a plump brunette wearing a sequinned hair clip and holding a WeightWatchers magazine was.
Adam propped one elbow on the edge of the desk and leaned toward the nurse. He must have startled her, because she gasped as she reared in her chair.
He gave her a toe-curling smile. Damn. Even Scarlet felt like bowing before him and inquiring after his pleasure. “Hey, Lori.” Clearly he’d checked out her name tag. “Can you do me a favor?”
The woman looked at Scarlet, then back to Adam. She visibly warmed to his smile. “What would that be?”
“The girl, Destiny. She’s asking about her mother. Any way we can find out how she’s doing?”
“The trauma department in Shreveport is always busy. They wouldn’t bother with me.” Lori glanced around as though searching for someone. “But Doc Grabel put in a call to them ten minutes ago. Let me check with him.”
Adam’s smile deepened, his green eyes looked warm, almost a caress. Double D-yamn. He was really good at getting women to do his bidding. To prove the point, Lori picked up the phone and punched in a number.
“Thanks, Lori,” Adam said softly, with the right amount of intimacy.
He walked a few steps away. Scarlet followed. “Did I see what I think I saw?”
“What’s that?”
“You hypnotized that girl into doing your bidding.”
“I know how to get things done, Scarlet.”
His words teased. And they heated. Which was wrong. She had come to visit an injured girl. Not play flirty games with the man who had told her that very afternoon she was the wrong kind of woman. “So I see.”
He stopped smiling. “How’s the girl?”
“She’s terrified her mother’s dead. She’s hurt, but doesn’t seem to care about her own injuries. I should go sit with her.”
He nodded.
She turned toward that section of the E.R. Adam stopped her with one touch. “Hey, Scar?”
She looked over her shoulder at him.
“It’s really decent of you to do what you’re doing.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I may play a vampire-queen bitch on TV and I may be a drama queen in real life, but I have a heart.”
Before she got too far away, Lori hung up the phone.
“Her mother is still in surgery,” she said. “They’ll call when she’s out.”
ADAM WATCHED SCARLET disappear behind the curtain, his eyes taking in every square inch of her retreating form. He hadn’t expected such generosity from the beautiful actress. He’d typecast her as self-centered and shallow based on her looks and persona. He’d been wrong. And he was an ass.
His past experience with stunners like Scarlet had colored his perception. Sure, Angi and a bevy of honky-tonk heartbreakers like her had given him good reason. He’d taken one look at Scarlet with her too-high heels, glossy red lips and obvious cleavage and lumped her into a category where she didn’t belong. It was a classic case of judging a book by its cover before taking time to read the pages within. And there was little doubt he wanted to read Scarlet’s pages.
He just couldn’t risk it.
“She’s something, huh?” Barry Barlow said, sneaking up beside him.
Adam nodded. “I didn’t think she would come.”
“She’s easy on the eyes even without that smokin’ hot catsuit and those black boots she wears on TV. If I weren’t married…” Barry trailed off, leaving Adam to draw his own conclusions.
Something close to jealousy ripped through Adam. Barry was a stand-up guy—tough, fair and brimming with integrity. Yet Adam still curled his hand into a fist. He made himself relax. He had no right to be offended by the man’s offhand remarks. Scarlet was a babe—a fact no man from age five to ninety-five could deny. “But you are.”
Barry grinned. “Ellen will thank you for reminding me.”
Adam managed a smile. He’d been to Barry and Ellen’s a few times for barbecues. Ellen was short, feisty and liable to brain her husband for ogling another woman. “I’ll collect the ten spot she owes me the next time I see her. She told me money was to be made for keeping you in line.”
Barry snorted. “She would.”
They stood a moment, watching an orderly roll the other girl who had been extracted from the twisted Toyota through the automatic doors of the E.R. The girl still had tears coursing down her cheeks. A young nurse walked beside her, patting her arm and murmuring comforting words.
“That was a bad one,” Adam said, shaking his head. He’d seen fatalities, and though no one had died as a result of this wreck, he thought it a miracle they’d been able to pull the women and girls from the wreckage. Gasoline had poured from the logging truck’s fuel tank and the smaller SUV had burst into flames seconds after the unconscious driver was cleared from the vehicle.
“I heard a few moments ago the truck driver woke up.” Barry dropped his voice. “He told another trooper he hadn’t slept in over thirty hours and had fallen asleep.”
“Let’s hope both women pull through or he’ll be facing negligent homicide.” A charge like that would all but end the guy’s career.
“Thanks for your help on this one. I couldn’t get units dispatched from the sheriff fast enough. Glad you were close, or things could have been much different.”
“No problem. I’m here anytime you need me.”
“The next time we need to get someone out of a burning vehicle, you’ll be at the top of our list.” Barry stuck out his hand and gave Adam’s a brief hard shake. “Later, Hinton.”
Adam watched his friend walk out the automatic doors into the Texas twilight and wondered if he should have become a trooper. Troopers didn’t build the relationships Adam had built with the citizens of Oak Stand, but they didn’t have to listen to old crazies like Harvey Primm. State troopers dealt with danger and adrenaline. Not parking tickets, property disputes and dog poop.
“Chief Hinton?”
“Yeah?” Adam turned to face the desk nurse, Lori.
“We got word from Shreveport that Destiny’s mother pulled through surgery. She’s still critical, but alive. Do you mind delivering the news? I’ve got to take a bedpan to someone in the waiting room. Stomach virus.”
Adam made a mental note to wash his hands. Thoroughly. “Sure.”
As he approached the bay where Destiny lay, he heard the murmur of voices and paused to listen.
“And then that cute cop?” one girl said.
“Chief Hinton?” Scarlet said.
“Yeah, the guy that looks like an Abercrombie model? Well, he set me on the grass and ran back. The door was stuck and he kept pulling at it, using his foot against the side of the car and everything. I could tell things were bad, you know? ’Cause he kept looking at the ground—”
“I had blood all over my face, but I saw what he was looking at.” He thought that was Destiny’s voice. “I could smell it, too. It was gasoline. It freaked me out because my mom was stuck in there.”
“Yeah, he’d already got my mom out from the other window,” the other girl,
Charlene, said.
“So then he kicked the glass out, reached in and rescued my mom. It was crazy, because a few minutes later, our car caught on fire.”
He heard Scarlet’s intake of breath. “Are you serious?”
“He, like, totally saved my mom’s life,” Destiny said. “Really cool.”
Nothing was said for a moment, so he pulled back the curtain.
“Hey,” Destiny said, “we were talking about you.”
Scarlet glanced at him. He wondered if he detected a newfound respect in her eyes. “The girls told me about your heroics. You saved them.”
“Maybe.” Destiny’s quietly spoken word deflated the mood.
Adam stepped inside, careful to leave the curtain slightly open. There was no family member with the girls and he didn’t want to make either of them feel uncomfortable. “The desk nurse got word from Shreveport. Your mother is out of surgery and is stable.”
Destiny sank against the bed with a near sob and a wince. “Oh, thank God. I— I—”
Charlene patted her hand. “See? I told you, Des, she’s okay.”
Destiny cried harder and Scarlet stroked the girl’s bangs from her eyes. “No tears now, Destiny. This is very good news.”
The girl nodded and clung hard to her friend’s hand.
Scarlet met his gaze, her uncertainty obvious. Her look spoke volumes. Do something.
He approached the other side of the bed where the two young girls held hands and awkwardly patted Destiny’s uninjured shoulder. “Ms. Rose is right. This is good news.”
The girl calmed at his touch. He didn’t know why. He was damned uncomfortable. He’d had no experience with teenage girls. They were like holding a loaded weapon with a hair trigger. Likely to go off at any moment.
Scarlet didn’t look much more capable than he. They were both fish out of water, hoping for someone to save them. At least Scarlet had the benefit of being female.
Their gazes met, and for a moment the absolute lunacy of the situation they found themselves in struck him. He could see the same revelation in her eyes. A sort of awareness of being ill at ease with two girls who were virtual strangers and a sort of determination to put their own discomfort aside for those two frightened children. He didn’t know how he knew her thoughts. He merely did.
“Destiny!”
The shriek came from the doorway.
“Gran!”
Scarlet and Adam had been saved by Gran, the rotund woman with platinum highlights and sunglasses the size of small saucers. In short order, introductions were made, thanks given and goodbyes said.
He and Scarlet slipped out of the bay and left the emergency room. He took her elbow as they headed down the main hall. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She tugged her arm free. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m feeling highly emotional right now, and you’re looking pretty damn good in my eyes. I might not keep my promise. I might toss you into my convertible, drive to the nearest motel and teach you not to go around playing the hero. It’s a real turn-on for cheap girls like me.”
The hurt in her voice gave him pause. Damn. He’d wounded her today when he told her she wasn’t the right kind of girl. Why had he said anything to her about what he’d been looking for in a woman? Why had he allowed an abstract ideal to overshadow the spectacular real person right in front of his eyes?
The florescent lighting was harsh and he knew he looked wrinkled and weary, his uniform and boots smudged with dirt. Scarlet didn’t look much better. Her dark red hair hung scraggly around a face that looked paler than normal. Her T-shirt was wrinkled and her toenail polish was chipped. And he’d never seen a woman look more desirable.
“Maybe I don’t want you to keep your promise.”
“Yes, you do.”
He stared at her. Didn’t she understand? Couldn’t she feel how much he wanted her? Couldn’t she see how the shallow version of her he’d built in his mind, the one he’d been clinging to, had crumbled, leaving a woman who was so lovable it scared him?
She brushed her bangs from her eyes. “This afternoon you were quite clear about the type of woman you want.”
He didn’t respond.
She gave him a slow, sad smile. “And I’m not that woman.” She walked away.
He didn’t follow. Why should he? He’d hurt her and misjudged her…and she was right. No matter how much he wished she was the right girl for him, she wasn’t a realistic candidate for wife or girlfriend. She wasn’t sticking around Oak Stand to make him pork chops, sit on a pew at Oak Stand Methodist with him or pick out trim colors for his shutters.
There was no future with Scarlet Rose.
Scarlet might be Ms. Right Now.
But she would never truly be Mrs. Right.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WE DON’T WANT to do those exercises again. They’re stupid,” Marco said, dropping into one of the chairs gathered around the communal area of Phoenix, as if he were a sack of grain. He dared her to challenge him.
Scarlet pushed up the sleeves on the navy shirt she’d found at the only dress shop in Oak Stand. It was loose and blousy. She felt like her grandmother Rose. She might as well have worn horn-rimmed glasses and Daniel Green gold lamé slippers. “Then don’t. Sit there and be a prop.”
She surveyed the other five men still standing before her. They were a motley group. One, Juan, was whip-thin and sallow, with amateur tats covering both arms. Julio was plump and ill-tempered. Tito had yet to speak. There were two Miguels. Miguel I talked too much, yammering innuendos about her in Spanish and making inappropriate gestures. Miguel II made the kissing faces. She didn’t like the Miguels.
Marco was the only one with real potential. And the only one who refused to participate at all.
“Okay, then,” she said, looking at the clipboard she held. Nothing much on it, but it gave her the feeling of a security blanket. As though it would give her a veneer of professionalism. Make her look as if she knew what the hell she was doing. Jewish grannies were so much easier. At least they had wanted to be in her acting class. “Let’s start with a stretch. We’re going to be using the Meisner technique for acting, which is essentially focusing on the truth of the moment.”
“Yo, let’s do some moments from Going Down on Mr. Brown. That’s my favorite movie,” Miguel I said, sliding a sly smile her way. “I’ll play Mr. Brown.”
“Fine, your friend Mr.—” she scanned the names on her list “—Jaurez can act with you.”
Several of the guys laughed.
“Yo, I ain’t no homo,” Miguel I said. He moved away from her, his posturing defensive.
“I believe there are rules here regarding the use of derogatory language, Mr. Rodriguez. That’s inappropriate.”
“So?” He crossed his arms. “What you gonna do about it? Spank me?”
“No, but I might load you in my squad car, take you to the next county and beat the crap out of you.” The new voice came from the doorway.
All heads swiveled to where Adam stood. He wasn’t wearing his uniform—wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt instead—but his authority couldn’t be questioned. It had been several days since she’d seen him. Since she’d left him in the hospital hallway, looking confused and hungry. Walking away had been a smart move because, regardless of whatever attraction sparked between them, Adam was right. They were nothing but Police Chief and Crazy Actress on Probation.
The room grew still; the air taut.
Scarlet watched the former gang members. They didn’t like Adam. They looked wary. Hunted. Perhaps even scared.
Marco broke the silence with a nervous chuckle. “Ay viene la jura.”
“Yeah, the cop is here,” Adam said, closing the front door behind him. “And I’d hate to have to bust some heads.”
“He’s kidding,” Scarlet said, waving Adam into the area she’d created to serve as their stage. She was surprised he’d shown up. She’d half ex
pected him to bail. She’d forgotten that he was a man of his word.
“No, I’m not. Ms. Rose is performing community service. Key word service. She’s giving her time and expertise to you and deserves your respect.”
Marco leaned forward. “Yo. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have to.”
“Yo. Doesn’t matter.” Adam’s gaze flickered over the group with a toughness Scarlet hadn’t seen before. “She’s a lady, she’s a professional and she’s here to instruct you.”
Everyone was on edge. Wasn’t the ideal environment to encourage opening up. She needed to break the ice. Bring the focus back on the art of acting, not the differences between the gang members and the sexy lawman standing alert beside her.
“Well, thanks, Chief Hinton, for setting everyone straight. These guys are very new to acting and it’s hard to summon up enthusiasm for something unfamiliar.” She directed her next words to the guys. “And this is the reason Chief Hinton is here.”
Marco snorted. “Yeah, he’s here to harass a bunch of chunties. That’s what cops do in their spare time.”
“Derogatory.” Scarlet wagged her finger at Marco. “The chief is here to be a guinea pig for the evening.”
Adam shook his head. “Not a pig.”
The guys laughed and the mood lightened with Adam’s jest.
She joined the laughter. “Okay, not a pig. An example. I thought if you could see someone like the chief setting aside his reservations, it might be easier for you to do the same.”
“Why would we do that?” Tito asked.
Huh. So apparently he wasn’t mute.
“Because Chief Hinton is a leader in this community, much like some of you may be one day.”
“Who wants to be a sucio cochon?” Miquel II sneered.
“No one like you.” Adam’s stare was hard, his eyes flinty, unyielding. “Rick has rules. Follow them.”
“Okay. Um, stretches.” That sounded a bit lame, but she needed to get them to focus on something other than a who’s-tougher-than-you contest. “Let’s warm up our bodies.”
