Книга - The Bodyguard & Ms Jones

The Bodyguard & Ms Jones
Susan Mallery


New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery delivers a fan-favorite tale about how a moment's kindness can lead to a lifetime of love.Bodyguard Mike Blackburne can't get enough of the job, especially the danger. After taking a bullet in the line of duty, he accepts his most difficult assignment yet: a peaceful recovery in the suburbs. He manages to avoid the small town and its boring ways…until the charming woman next door slips past his defenses.When single mom Cindy Jones offers to look in on her neighbor's injured brother, she isn't expecting him to be so difficult…or so drop-dead gorgeous. His won't be the easiest recovery to handle, but it might just be the best favor Kelly ever agreed to!







New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery delivers a fan-favorite tale about how a moment’s kindness can lead to a lifetime of love.

Bodyguard Mike Blackburne can’t get enough of the job, especially the danger. After taking a bullet in the line of duty, he accepts his most difficult assignment yet: a peaceful recovery in the suburbs. He manages to avoid the small town and its boring ways…until the charming woman next door slips past his defenses.

When single mom Cindy Jones offers to look in on her neighbor’s injured brother, she isn’t expecting him to be so difficult…or so drop-dead gorgeous. His won’t be the easiest recovery to handle, but it might just be the best favor Kelly ever agreed to!


The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones

Susan Mallery




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#u76aecbdd-af2d-5937-a3d1-310145a12810)

Back Cover Text (#u0fe6f088-dc38-527e-a66f-30012bebd70f)

Title Page (#u413a86a3-db28-5f42-b697-8ac2d01e4606)

Chapter One (#u8079900b-f933-5183-a3e6-4dc2a4c99b21)

Chapter Two (#u1711a74e-7db4-586d-87b2-a34a6d2c4439)

Chapter Three (#u05460770-4691-558a-8831-3cbfec85c2dd)

Chapter Four (#u3b989c20-0d88-553d-9ad4-7f98dfa2ad5f)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_eeb86bb5-9160-5bfe-b4eb-58c12eadf1f6)

“Mister. Mister! Are you dead?”

The voice was insistent and faintly whiny. Mike Blackburne tried to block out the noise, along with the pounding in his head and the painful throbbing that pulsed through his body. He failed miserably on both counts.

“I think he’s dead,” the voice proclaimed.

“He’s not dead. He’s sleeping.”

“No way. I can’t wake him up. See?”

Mike felt a jab in his side. The poking continued, hitting right above the bruise on his ribs. The pain increased, and the black haze he’d been fighting for God knows how long began to descend.

“Leave me the hell alone,” he roared. Or at least it was supposed to be a roar. Instead, his mouth barely opened and he mumbled something that sounded like “Ve m’ll own.”

There was a moment of blissful silence. The jabbing against his ribs stopped. Then his peace was shattered by a high-pitched call.

“Mo-om, he’s not dead.”

Whatever he was lying on shook slightly, as if it had been bumped. There were footsteps, then silence again.

Mike told himself to sit up. The pain flowing through his body like liquid torture warned him that wasn’t advisable. Trying for a lesser goal, he started to open his eyes. His lids felt as if they’d been glued shut.

He tried again and this time was rewarded by a sharp stab of light. He blinked, attempting to bring something, anything, into focus, then wished he hadn’t. Some ugly green creature with flaming eyes was staring at him.

He jerked back, causing his head to swim and the cadence of agony to increase. He felt like roadkill. Blinking again, he studied his guardian.

“Hell,” he muttered. It was a two-foot-long statue of a dragon, about the ugliest piece of art he’d ever seen. It was just as well he wasn’t dead, because he expected the good Lord to have better taste than that.

One corner of his mouth curved up, pulling at his split lip. He grimaced and raised his hand to touch the spot. Tender but not bleeding. Besides, who was he to assume that on his death he was going north?

Footsteps caught his attention. He tried to turn toward the sound. He could see a massive marble fireplace, wing chairs that looked more decorative than comfortable and a small lacquered table supporting a smaller version of the dragon staring down at him. However, he couldn’t locate the owner of the footsteps. He hoped it wasn’t that kid again. He was in bad enough shape without being poked and prodded.

His eyes closed involuntarily. He didn’t want to sleep anymore. He didn’t know how long he’d been out. He didn’t even know where he was, although something about the room was familiar.

“Mr. Blackburne?”

Soft, sweet tones recalled him to consciousness. She didn’t sound like any nurse he’d ever met. But then, he wasn’t still in the hospital. Maybe she knew where he was and what he was doing here.

He forced his eyes opened. As everything swam around, he felt a cool touch on his forehead. He blinked.

Directly in front of him were a pair of long, curvy legs. Her honey-colored thighs were about two feet from his face. He could see the bare skin, a freckle above her right knee and a faded scar, probably from some run-in she’d had years before with a curb.

“Mr. Blackburne?” she repeated.

Did angels go around naked? He raised his gaze slightly, hoping to encounter more bare skin. Much to his disappointment, she was wearing pale blue shorts with a white gauzy shirt tucked into the waistband. Leaning over him the way she was, her shirt gaped slightly. He saw the curve of her breasts. A weak but nearly audible flicker of male interest told him he was not only alive, but more than likely on the road to recovery.

Before he could move his head back far enough to see her face, she moved closer and sat next to him. The action took her legs out of his range of vision, but now he could see her features without straining.

She had shoulder-length light brown hair with a fringe of bangs falling to her eyebrows. Her mouth was wide and turned up at the corners, as if she was on the verge of smiling. Her eyes were green, with a hint of gray smoke. He’d never seen her before.

“I hope you feel better than you look, Mr. Blackburne, because you look pretty bad.”

“Where am I?” he mumbled. The words came out garbled.

She frowned, a faint line appearing on her forehead. “I can’t understand you, but you probably shouldn’t be talking, anyway. My name is Cindy Jones. Your sister, Grace, is my neighbor. You’re in Grace’s house now. You arrived sometime last night, but I wasn’t expecting you for another week. If you hadn’t left the front door open, no one would have known you were here.”

She touched his face again. Her fingertips were cool as she traced a line from his temple to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a fever, and you’re bleeding. I don’t think you should have left the hospital.”

“Hate hospitals.”

“Now you sound like Jonathan.” He must have looked confused. She smiled. Her lips parted and curved up, exposing white teeth and a dimple in her right cheek. “Jonathan is my oldest. He’s nine. He hates anything to do with the doctor. Last summer he broke his arm. You should have heard him complaining every time we took him in to be checked.”

Now he knew where he was. He didn’t remember much about getting here, although the faint memory of a plane trip made sense. Last time he recalled being fully conscious, he’d been in a hospital in Los Angeles. Grace lived outside of Houston. Why had he gone there? He had his own place....

“Earthquake,” he mumbled.

That damn earthquake a couple years back had destroyed his apartment building. He’d meant to find another place, but he’d been too busy working. The memories were coming back faster now. Grace had come to see him in the hospital and had offered her place. She was going to be gone for the summer, anyway. He could recover in peace.

“So who are you?” he asked.

“I told you. I’m Cindy Jones. Your neighbor. Grace asked me to look after you until you were on your feet.”

“I don’t need any help.” He would be fine. As soon as the pounding in his head subsided to a tolerable level and the bullet wound in his leg stopped throbbing in time with his heartbeat. So much for his recovery. “I feel like I was run over by a train.”

“Actually, I believe you fell off of a building.”

He must have glared at her because she quickly added, “According to Grace, it was a very small building. Some bushes broke the fall.”

“They should have done a better job.” He concentrated all his strength on getting upright. If he could just swallow a handful of pills that his doctor had prescribed, he would be fine. But first he had to sit up.

He braced his left hand on the sofa cushion and pushed with all his strength. He got about halfway toward sitting before the room started spinning and the shaking in his arm got so bad he collapsed.

“What are you trying to do, Mr. Blackburne?”

“Sit up.” He could feel the sweat on his face and back. He hoped it was from the exertion and not a fever. That was the last thing he needed right now.

“Why?”

“Pills.” He motioned to the floor, knowing he would have dropped his duffel bags on his way in. His eyelids were getting heavier.

She stood up. He heard her faint footsteps as she crossed the room. There was barely any sound on the hardwood floor, so she must be wearing soft-soled shoes, he thought. A useless piece of information provided by a brain trained to keep him alive. Sometimes, knowing the kind of shoes someone was wearing could save a life. Good to know he still had it, even though he didn’t have the strength to use it.

“Is this all your luggage, Mr. Blackburne?” Cindy asked.

“Mike,” he mumbled. Everything he owned in the world fit into two duffel bags. If the flight wasn’t full, he didn’t bother to check them. That way, he could carry them off the plane and not have to wait.

He heard the rattle of pills and knew she’d found the bottles. But instead of handing them to him, she crossed the room toward what he supposed was the kitchen. “Jonathan, keep an eye on Mr. Blackburne. I want to call his doctor.”

Mike opened his mouth to tell her not to bother, but no sound came out. Seconds later something poked his injured side. He groaned.

“You really shot?” a voice asked. “Did somebody fill you with lead?”

He forced his eyes open and glanced at the boy staring down at him. He had blond hair, long on top, but trimmed short around his ears. Bright brown eyes peered at him curiously. “Go ’way,” he said.

“Can I see the bullet hole? Did you bleed a lot?” The boy looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen, then bent toward Mike’s face. “Are you packing a gun?”

Too much TV, Mike thought.

Cindy returned to the living room. From the look on her face, she wasn’t happy.

“I spoke to your doctor,” she said, holding out a bottle of pills. “He said you were supposed to stay in the hospital another four days. You could spike a fever or worse.”

“Uh-uh. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like—”

“Garbage?” Jonathan offered helpfully.

“Jonathan.”

The boy’s shoulders dropped. “Sorry, Mom.”

She shoved the pills into her shorts pocket. “Go check on your sister. I’ll be home in a few minutes, as soon as I figure out what to do with Mr. Blackburne.”

He was having trouble concentrating on what she was saying. “Mike,” he told her again. “Call me Mike.” At least that’s what he thought he said. He had a feeling the words that passed his lips bordered on unintelligible.

“Mike,” she repeated. “You shouldn’t have left the hospital. I’m not sure what to do with you. We’ve got a great facility here. I could take you there.”

He shook his head. Instantly, black spots appeared. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, but the spots didn’t go away. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly, more for his benefit than hers. “I’ll be fine. Just get me a glass of water, and I’ll take my pills.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I promised your sister I would take care of you while she was gone. I can’t just give you pills and leave you here. You need medical attention. At the very least, you need to be watched. The nurse on the phone said you’d hit your head.”

“Listen, lady, I don’t need anything but a damn glass of water.” He got the whole sentence out clearly.

“Uh-huh. Sorry, but I’m not impressed by your temper.”

“Why not?”

She smiled. As smiles went, it was a nice one, he thought, then knew for sure that a fever had kicked in. When did he bother noticing a woman’s smile?

“I’ve got two kids, Mike. I’m used to crankiness in the sickroom.”

“I’m not cranky.”

“You’re doing a fair imitation. I’ll make you a deal. If you’re strong enough to walk to the bedroom so you can lie down properly, I won’t make you go to the hospital.”

“Fair enough.” He thought about sitting up and wondered if he could do it. “Where’s the bedroom?”

“Lucky for you, it’s downstairs.”

“No problem. Give me a minute.”

He concentrated all his attention on his arms, willing them to be strong. After taking three deep breaths, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The room tilted and spun, but he didn’t dare close his eyes. Focusing on Cindy, who seemed to be moving slightly less than everything else, he began to rise. His thighs trembled, his knees refused to lock and he felt himself start to go down. At the last moment, he ducked left. The last thing he needed was to be impaled on that damn ceramic dragon.

* * *

Cindy thought Mike might actually make it to his feet. He was almost there, when he started to topple like a half-assembled tower from one of Jonathan’s games. She lunged forward, catching him before he fell. She grabbed him around the waist. His left arm encircled her shoulder.

It didn’t do any good. He outweighed her by about sixty pounds, and he was unconscious. It was like trying to hold up a large, male sack of flour. Her legs buckled, and she found herself pinned under him on the sofa.

His head rested on her chest, his right hand slipped between her thighs. His torso settled across her hips. She couldn’t move. The intimacy was almost as unsettling as the heat she felt from him. He had a fever.

“Mike?” she said.

He didn’t budge.

“Mike?” She shook him. Nothing. Not even a hint that he could hear her.

A strand of hair settled on her face. She blew it away and studied the situation. Her left foot barely touched the ground. If she could push off with that leg, she might be able to roll him a little and slide out from under him. Her right arm was caught between him and the sofa; her right leg bent awkwardly and was likewise captured.

She glanced at the dragon resting on the glass coffee table in front of the sofa. “You could help,” she said.

The dragon didn’t answer.

Cindy pushed and wiggled and only succeeded in pulling her shirt out of her waistband and bunching her shorts up around her rear.

“I’m not making progress here,” she said, then giggled. Who exactly was she talking to?

“Jonathan?” she called as loudly as she could. “Allison? Mommy needs your help.”

She figured the odds of her children hearing her were slim, but she had to try. She wasn’t sure how long they would wait before coming to investigate. If they got interested in a show on TV, it could be an hour or more.

“I can’t wait that long,” Cindy said. She wiggled to get free, and instead managed to wedge Mike’s hand tighter between her thighs. “If you knew how long it’s been since a man touched me there.” She giggled again. She had been reduced to talking to inanimate objects and unconscious men. “At least they’re not talking back. I do still have a slender hold on my sanity.”

The giggle turned into laughter. She again tried to push Mike off her, but she didn’t have any strength. She laughed until tears trickled down her temples and into her hair.

“I never have my camera with me when I should.”

Cindy turned toward the voice and saw Beth standing in the foyer. “Help me,” she said.

Beth raised her eyebrows as she took in the scene before her. “I understand about getting them a drink to relax them, but Cindy, honey, I think you went too far. And, if you’re going to have sex with a stranger, try to remember to close the front door.”

“But if he’s not a stranger, I can leave the door open?” Cindy shoved against Mike, but he didn’t budge. “Would you help me, please?”

Her friend sauntered across the room. She was slim, with dark red hair and brilliant blue eyes. She bent close. “He’s handsome. Does he have a name?”

“Mike Blackburne. Grace’s brother.”

“Oh, my. The bodyguard. Very nice. Grace didn’t mention he was so good-looking. I like that in a man.”

“Beth! I can’t breathe here.”

“Stop whining. I’m going to help.” Beth grabbed him by the shoulder and raised him slightly. At the same time, Cindy pushed off and managed to slide out from under him. She shimmied off the sofa and plopped onto the floor on her backside.

“He was so overcome by lust that he passed out?” Beth asked.

“I think it was the fever. He’s sick.”

“Most men are.”

Cindy shook her head. “No, I mean he’s ill. Grace told me he’d been shot and fell off a building. I spoke to his doctor’s office. He left the hospital too early. His doctor said he needs to take his medication and rest.”

Beth eyed him. “If you ask me, he needs a new line of work.”

“Help me get him to bed.”

“You’re going to keep him?”

“He’s not a puppy. I can’t send him back where he came from.”

“Take him to the hospital.”

Cindy looked at the unconscious man sprawled out on the sofa. The doctor had given her instructions on how to care for Mike. As long as she got his pills and some water down him, all he really needed was a little rest. He sure hadn’t wanted to go back to the hospital and she couldn’t blame him.

“I promised Grace I would look after him while he was here,” she said. “I owe her.”

“I’m sure she didn’t expect her brother to be so ill.”

“Probably not,” Cindy agreed. “But she’s already gone. I want to try and take care of Mike. If he gets worse, then I’ll take him over to the hospital.”

“Mike?” Beth raised her eyebrows. “You two have met?”

“Yes, before he passed out.”

“And is there a Mrs. Mike?”

“I didn’t ask.” Cindy stood up and brushed off her shorts. “Don’t start matchmaking, Beth. I mean it. Mike Blackburne is a professional bodyguard. He goes from job to job. He’s here because he doesn’t have a place of his own. I’m not interested in a man like that, and he wouldn’t be interested in me.”

“I’m not saying you have to marry him,” Beth said, tilting her head so she could study Mike’s features more clearly. “I’m just saying that once he’s on his feet, maybe the two of you could—”

Cindy cut her off. “I’m not that type.”

Beth smiled slowly. “Honey, we’re all that type. It’s just that some of us get a little more of a chance to prove it than others.”

“Cheap talk for a woman who’s been married to the same man for fifteen years.”

“I know, but a girl can dream.” She touched Mike’s cheek with the back of her hand. “He’s burning up. If you’re serious about taking care of him, there’s no point in putting him in Grace’s bedroom. You’ll just have to run back and forth between the two houses. Let me go get Darren and the three of us can wrestle Mike into your place.”

“That makes sense,” Cindy said. “I’ll take his things over.”

“Be right back.”

Beth left the house and crossed the street to her own place. Cindy heard her calling for her husband. Thank goodness it was Saturday. There was no way she could have moved Mike on her own.

Cindy picked up the two duffel bags on the floor, went out the front door and cut across the green lawn. She walked down the driveway and into her own house through the back door.

“Mommy, Mommy, is he really dead?” seven-year-old Allison asked. “Jonathan says he’s dead, but Shelby and I don’t believe him.”

“He’s not dead, but he’s sick. He’s going to stay with us for a little while.”

Jonathan eyed the duffel bags. “You think he’s got a gun in there?”

Cindy clamped her lips together. The thought hadn’t occurred to her, but Jonathan could be right. “I think the two of you should stay out of the way for the next few minutes. Mr. and Mrs. Davis are going to help me bring Mr. Blackburne over here.”

Allison’s big green eyes widened. “Where’s he going to sleep?”

“In my room. It’s downstairs.”

“Daddy won’t like that.”

Cindy didn’t bother pointing out that Daddy had given up his right to complain when he’d walked out on his family nearly two years ago.

“Daddy doesn’t care about us, stupid,” Jonathan said.

“He does care, and I’m not stupid. Shelby says you’re stupid.”

“At least I’m not dumb enough to talk to invisible people.”

“She’s not invisible. She just doesn’t want mean boys like you seeing her.”

“Children!” Cindy said loudly. “Please. No name-calling. I mean it.”

They both looked at her. Cindy raised her gaze toward the ceiling. It was only the first weekend of summer vacation. It was going to be a long three months.

“Sit,” she said, pointing to the floral-print sofa in the family room. They both sat.

Cindy picked up the duffel bags, walked through the formal living room and into the master bedroom. After Nelson had moved out, she’d redone her room in cream and rose. The heavy oak furniture he favored had been replaced with bleached pine and lacy curtains. She put down the bags and, working quickly, she pulled back the decorative pillows and comforter, then smoothed the sheets. Thank goodness she’d changed them that morning.

When that was done, she approached the two duffel bags. She hated to go through Mike’s things, but Jonathan had a point. She couldn’t keep a gun in the house with her children. Mike was a bodyguard. It made sense he might carry a weapon with him. Sending out a mental apology, she unzipped the first bag.

Five minutes later, she knew that Mike Blackburne wore only button-fly jeans, had an eclectic taste in reading material, owned one pair of dress shoes and had a passport that had been stamped by every country she’d ever heard of and several that she hadn’t. But he didn’t carry a gun.

She exhaled the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. A week ago, her neighbor Grace had asked her to look after her older brother while he recovered from his injuries. After all Grace had done for her, Cindy was pleased to finally have an opportunity to pay her friend back. At the time, however, she hadn’t thought looking after Mike would turn her life upside down.

Beth stuck her head in the room. “Darren’s ready, if you are.” She pointed to the bed. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“Upstairs in the guest room.”

“You are so conventional. As my only single friend, I count on you to allow me to vicariously experience the thrill of the mating game. I must tell you, I’ve been very disappointed in your performance to date.”

Cindy pushed her friend from the room. “I’ll try to do better.”

“Starting when?”

Cindy ignored her. As they passed her children, she said, “We’ll be right back.”

When they were outside, Beth leaned close. “Are you going to take his clothes off?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Can I watch?”

“I thought I might ask Darren to do that.”

Beth pouted. “And you call yourself a friend.”

Cindy led the way into Grace’s house. Darren was already raising Mike into a sitting position. Even unconscious he looked dangerous. His brown hair was short, with an almost military cut. His muscles were powerful, his body as much a weapon as any firearm. All he owned fit into two duffel bags. She was willing to admit he might be handsome, but he was also lethal. Not just because he knew how to kill, but because he knew how to leave. Cindy had learned early in life that men who left were the most dangerous of all.


Chapter Two (#ulink_de87f99a-8011-5a99-92f0-289164af2fdc)

Mike opened his eyes because he could hear breathing. It was faint but there. In the moment before his vision focused, he wondered what he would see. Maybe a nurse. Certainly a stranger. He wouldn’t have been too shocked to see the devil himself. Instead, the person next to him was a child. A little girl.

“‘Morning,” he said and was pleased that his voice worked.

She wasn’t very tall or very old. He didn’t know enough about children to guess their ages, but figured this one was more than five and less than ten or eleven. She had short blond hair that was curly on the ends and big green eyes. She wore a ribbon in her hair—a blue one that matched her blue-and-white T-shirt. When she smiled at him, he knew exactly who she was—the daughter of that woman. Cindy Jones. The dimples were identical.

“I’m Allison,” she said. Her voice was faintly singsongy, and high-pitched. If he’d had a hangover, he would have winced at the sound. But surprisingly, the pounding in his head had reduced from a jackhammer pounding to a dull knocking and he was able to ignore it.

“Hi, Allison. I’m Mike.”

“Mommy says you’re hurt. That we have to be real quiet while you get better. Mommy said you fell off a building. You shouldn’t do that.”

“Gee, thanks.” Advice always came too late to do any good. He glanced around the room. This wasn’t his sister’s living room, and if his memory was working any better than his body, it wasn’t her bedroom, either. “Where am I?”

“Mommy’s room.” Allison held a doll clutched to her chest. Her green eyes regarded him solemnly. “She had to go to the store, and she asked me to watch you. You’ve been sleeping.”

“You’re watching me?”

She nodded. “I’ve never watched anyone big before.”

He wondered if Cindy had meant for her daughter to stand at his side staring. “You seem a little young to be baby-sitting.”

Allison dimpled. “I’m seven. Jonathan’s watching TV, and Mrs. Davis is watching us. She was here until a minute ago, but she had to go start her dinner. The front door is open and she screams across the street all the time. Mr. Davis has a seizure if his food isn’t on the table at six. But he has other ’deeming qualities.” She paused to draw in a breath. “Do you know what ’deeming means?”

“Sorry, no.” He didn’t know what she was talking about. Or why a seven-year-old had been left in charge of him. He also wondered what day it was and how long he’d been out. He’d arrived on Saturday morning. So today was... “It’s Sunday, right?” he asked.

Allison shook her head. “Tuesday. You’ve been asleep for a long time.” She tilted her head. “You say bad words in your sleep. And you get all twisted up in the covers. You had a fever, too. Mommy had to take care of you and I was very quiet.”

Tuesday? What the hell happened to Sunday and Monday? He couldn’t have been asleep that long. He reached up and rubbed the stubble on his face. Only the innocent stare of the child kept him from grinding out another bad word. He’d been out of it for over seventy-two hours. Then he wondered what else he’d said.

“Could I have a glass of water?” he asked.

She smiled. “I’ll get it.” She placed her doll on the bed and ran out of the room. “He’s awake, and he asked me to get him a glass of water,” he heard her call as she ran through the house.

Footsteps clattered on the hardwood floor. Mike tried to sit up. His body didn’t want to cooperate. He compromised, stuffing a couple of pillows behind his head so he could see more. He did a quick survey of the room. It was spacious, maybe twenty feet square, with a big bay window at one end. The walls were a pale pink, trimmed in cream. The light-colored furniture was large, but simply designed so the big pieces appeared more feminine. An armoire sat across from the foot of the bed. A dresser was next to that. Opposite the window was a doorway that led to a bathroom. Beside the door stood a highboy.

Someone approaching the room interrupted his inspection. The footsteps didn’t sound like Allison’s so he wasn’t surprised when a boy entered the room. He was bigger than his sister and looked older. Something tugged at his memory, the faint impression of the boy prodding him into consciousness.

The kid had blond hair like his sister, but brown eyes. The shape of his face was different, as well. He must look like his father. Mike glanced around the room again and wondered if Mr. Jones lived elsewhere.

The boy shoved his hands into his shorts pockets. “Can I see the bullet wound?”

Until that moment, Mike had been able to ignore the pulsing pain radiating from his thigh. The memories crashed in on him. The ambush on the rooftop garden terrace, the madness in the assassin’s eyes, the sudden slowing of time as Mike had shoved his client to the ground and pulled out the Beretta he carried with him. The assassin’s first round had missed, the second had caught Mike in the thigh. Mike had shot the assassin, and had then been attacked by the man’s assistant. In the struggle, Mike had gone off the side of the building. He’d taken the assistant with him. The client escaped unharmed, the bill was paid and Mike was left to move on. Only this time it had been to a hospital instead of another job.

He shook his head to clear it and only succeeded in blurring his vision. The kid was still staring at him expectantly. What did he want? Oh, yeah. To see the bullet wound. “Not right now, sport.”

The boy’s mouth twisted with disgust. “My name’s Jonathan. I just want to look.”

Allison entered, carefully carrying a glass of water in both hands. Her pale eyebrows drew together in concentration. When he took the glass from her, she smiled proudly. “I didn’t spill any.”

“Thanks.”

He tried to sit up again, but he didn’t have a prayer. The spirit might be willing, but his body was still whimpering and broken. He tilted his head forward and drank the water down in four long swallows.

The liquid was cool and about the best-tasting drink he’d had in weeks. When he was done, he sighed and offered the glass back to Allison. Now both kids were staring at him, their mouths open, their eyes big.

“You drink fast,” Allison said.

“I guess,” he said, feeling vaguely uncomfortable.

“You ever kill anybody?” Jonathan asked.

Allison grabbed her doll and took a step back. Mike set the empty glass on the nightstand and looked at the boy. “No. My job is to protect people. I’m hired to keep my client safe.”

“But someone shot you.”

“It happens.”

“Was it a bad man?” Allison asked. Her voice was soft and concerned. She continued to keep her distance.

“Yes, he was bad,” Mike told her. “He’s in jail now. He can’t hurt anyone again.” For some reason, he wanted to reassure the little girl. He didn’t like seeing the fear in her eyes. He tried smiling at her. His lips felt dry and his face was tight. Still, it must have worked, because the wary expression faded and she approached the bed again.

“Shelby thinks you’re nice,” she said shyly.

“Who’s Shelby?” He glanced around searching for yet another kid.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Allison, don’t be such a baby. Stop talking about Shelby. She’s not real.”

The girl tightened her grip on her doll. She ignored her brother and leaned closer to Mike. “Shelby’s my bestest friend in the world. She doesn’t like Jonathan and won’t let him see her.”

Mike didn’t know what to make of this. He was saved from having to answer by the sound of a car pulling up the driveway.

“Mommy’s home, Mommy’s home.” Both kids went flying from the room. Their feet thundered on the wooden floor.

“Stop pushing,” Allison ordered.

“Then get out of my way.”

“Mo-om, Jonathan’s pushing.”

“Am not. Quit being such a baby.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Are, too! Allie’s a baby. Allie’s a—”

The voices were abruptly cut off when the back door opened. For the next few minutes, there were only low murmurs, then Mike heard the woman approaching.

She walked into the room and smiled at him. “I’m afraid to ask if you woke up on your own, or if the children are responsible.”

“I think it’s a little of both.”

She bent over the nightstand and pulled open the top drawer. After pulling out a thermometer, she shook it down and placed it under his tongue. She expertly took his pulse, then leaned close and studied his eyes. While she looked at him, he looked at her.

She was as he remembered her. Today she wore a headband to keep her hair off her face, but the color was still light brown and it fell almost to her shoulders. Her eyes were smoky green and the corners of her mouth tilted up. A red T-shirt clung to her breasts. White shorts hugged her hips and exposed long, tanned legs. She didn’t look like any nurse he’d ever had, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Your eyes are clear,” she said. She touched his forehead, then his cheek with the back of her hand. “You feel cool, too.” She removed the thermometer and studied it. “Normal. Finally. So, Mike, how do you feel?”

“Not bad for a guy who fell off a building.”

“You’ve been asleep for three days. According to your doctor, that’s exactly what you needed.” There was a shuffling at the door. She glanced over her shoulder. “Jonathan, Allison, your ride for swim team will be here in about fifteen minutes. Go get ready.”

He heard footsteps on the stairs and the sound of childish voices. “They don’t do anything quietly, do they?”

“Not if there’s a way to do it loudly.” She perched on the edge of the bed. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have you awake. I’ve been worried.” Her skin was smooth and slightly tanned. When she smiled, there were faint lines around her eyes. He guessed she was close to thirty.

“Are you a nurse?” he asked.

She laughed. The sweet sound caught him off guard, and he felt himself smiling. It was the second time in less than fifteen minutes. Before now, he probably hadn’t smiled twice the entire year.

“Hardly. I teach math at the middle school.”

“Excuse me for asking, but if you’re not a nurse, what the hell are you doing looking after me in your house? This is your house, isn’t it?”

She leaned back against the footboard. After drawing one knee up toward her chest, she clasped her hands around her calf. “I’m friends with your sister Grace. She lives next door.” She tilted her head. He recognized it as the same move Allison had made. “Grace has lived here four years. If you’re her only brother, how come we’ve never seen you here before?”

“I don’t have much time to see family.” Grace was always inviting him. And she made him feel that she really wanted to see him. But Mike could never bring himself to visit. He’d always been a loner. It was easier, and in his profession, safer. “You still haven’t explained why you didn’t just dump me in the hospital.”

“I owe her. My kids get out of school about an hour and a half before I get home. Grace looks after them. She won’t let me pay her. I can only buy her so many lunches. When her husband found out he would be spending the summer in Hong Kong, she wanted to go with him. Then you got in touch with her. She didn’t know what to do. Going to Hong Kong was the opportunity of a lifetime, but you needed a place to recuperate. That’s where I came in. I said I would look after you until you were back on your feet.”

“Just like that?”

“Of course. She’s my friend.” She seemed surprised by the question, as if opening her house to a sick stranger was commonplace.

“What does Mr. Jones think about this?”

Her mouth twisted down at one corner. “I didn’t consult him. We’re divorced.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It happens. He left me for a trophy wife.”

She leaned forward slightly. The movement caused her shorts to gape slightly by her thigh, exposing a hint of white, lacy panties. Mike told himself he was a bastard for looking and forced himself to concentrate on the conversation.

“Trophy wife? You mean a woman he won somewhere?”

“Exactly. A trophy wife is younger, prettier, blonder. Now that Nelson is successful, he wants someone new to share that with. I’m surprised you’re not familiar with the phenomenon. It’s very prevalent in the suburbs.”

“I’ve never been in the suburbs before.”

“You’re in for a treat. It’s a different world here. One of four-door cars and families. This is the American dream in progress.” Her eyes brightened with humor. “I sometimes think I’m the ultimate cliché.” She shifted on the bed and sat cross-legged. It made his knees hurt just to look at her. She held up one hand and began counting off on her fingers. “I’m divorced, and I was left for a younger woman. I’m a teacher, a traditionally female profession. I live in a bedroom community, I drive a minivan, I use coupons and I have two-point-four children.”

He folded his arms over his chest and grinned. “Let me guess. The point-four child is Shelby, Allison’s imaginary friend.”

“You’ve met?”

“She’s met me. I wasn’t sure where she was standing.”

Their gazes locked. Something leaped between them. Something hot and alive—like electricity. Mike felt warm all over, even though he was practically naked under the sheet. His skin prickled and he had the strangest sensation of taking a step off a bridge, or a building. Only this time, instead of falling, he was suspended there.

Cindy’s green eyes darkened as her pupils dilated. Her breathing increased. He could hear the rapid cadence in the silent room. His blood quickened and he felt the second flickering spark of desire around her.

Then, as if someone had snapped his fingers to break the spell, it was gone. They both looked away. Mike didn’t know if Cindy was feeling the same sense of loss, but he noticed a splotch of color on each of her cheeks.

She cleared her throat. “The only difference between me and most women in my situation is that I got to keep the house. Aunt Bertha, bless her heart, died and left me enough money to pay down the mortgage, pay off Nelson and refinance. You can’t keep a place this big on a teacher’s salary.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he blurted out the first thing that came to him. “Why did you marry someone named Nelson?”

She laughed. “It’s a question I’ve asked myself again and again.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “He wasn’t much of a husband. Good riddance.”

He tried to remember the last time he talked with a woman. Just talked. Not as a prelude to sex, or because they were working together. Except for his phone calls with Grace, he didn’t know that he ever had.

“What about you?” she asked. “Ever married?”

“What makes you think I’m not now?”

“Because you would have gone home to her instead of coming to Grace’s.”

“Good point. No, I’ve never been married.” It wasn’t his style. He didn’t believe in getting that close.

“And you’ve always lived in the city?”

He nodded. “I had a place in New York for a while, then I got a lot of work in Los Angeles. I kept an apartment there until it was damaged by the earthquake a couple years back. Since then I’ve been working steadily and haven’t found anywhere I liked.”

She stood up. He couldn’t help watching the graceful way she unfolded her legs. He’d dated a couple of models while he was in New York, but he didn’t like their bony torsos and straight legs. Cindy’s calves and thighs curved as if trying to lead a man astray while tempting him to paradise. He grimaced. He was thinking some strange thoughts. Maybe he’d fallen on his head harder than he’d realized.

“You live a very odd life, Mike Blackburne. You’re about to get a crash course on how the other half lives,” she said. “Welcome to the world of children and Middle America.”

A car honked. She walked to the door and yelled, “Allison, Jonathan, your ride is here.”

The two children ran down the stairs and over to her. She bent down and kissed them both. “Be good.”

They called back that they would, raced across the floor, then slammed the door shut behind them. Cindy drew in a breath. “Ah, blissful silence. You hungry?”

At her question, his stomach rumbled. “I guess so,” he said.

“I’ll make you some soup.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Think you can manage to get to the rest room on your own?”

He eyed the door. “Yeah.”

“I have chicken soup with round noodles, noodles shaped like dinosaurs and alphabet noodles.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Obviously you’ve never had to feed children.”

“I guess not. You don’t have any plain flat noodles?”

“Sorry. They’re not exciting enough.”

She was right. He had entered a strange and different world. “Surprise me.”

* * *

Cindy set the soup bowl on the tray, shifted the water glass over and stared at the crackers. Dry toast might be better. She hesitated for a moment, then figured the man was unlikely to finish what she’d brought him, as it was. She picked up the tray and headed for the bedroom.

Mike was back in bed but sitting up this time with the sheets and blanket bunched around his waist. His hair had been brushed, although he still needed a shave.

“You look pale,” she said.

“I just about had to crawl on the return trip but it was worth it.” He pointed to the bowl. “What did you decide?”

“Dinosaurs. I thought they would make you big and strong.”

The look he shot her told her he wasn’t sure if he believed her or not. She bit back a grin. Better for her if she kept him a little off-balance. Having Mike Blackburne in her house wasn’t doing much for her equilibrium.

She settled the tray over his lap. The wooden legs held it up off his thighs. “Would you rather have juice than water? I didn’t think coffee would be a good idea. You need sleep more than anything, and I don’t have any decaf.”

“I don’t drink decaf,” he said, picking up a spoon. “The taste of coffee is bad enough, but at least it has caffeine. If it doesn’t keep you up, why bother? Water is fine.”

He dipped his spoon into the bowl, then stared at the miniature pasta dinosaurs floating in the chicken broth. After a shrug, as if to say “What the hell,” he downed a mouthful.

“Tastes the same,” he admitted.

“What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe little crunchy bones?”

She smiled. “Tomorrow, when you’re stronger.”

While he ate, she moved around the room, opening the drapes, then smoothing the folded comforter at the foot of the bed. Anything to keep from staring at Mike. It had been easy to take care of him while he was only semiconscious. She’d awakened him enough to get him to swallow his pills and make him drink water, but they hadn’t actually spoken before. Sleeping, he’d been good-looking. Awake, he was sinfully handsome and dangerously intriguing.

In an odd way, he reminded her of Nelson. The statistics were the same. Both men had brown hair and brown eyes, and were six feet two inches tall. However, that’s where the similarity ended. Nelson’s face was ordinary. Glasses hid his eyes, which were his best feature. Her ex-husband was pale, slightly flabby, at least he had been the last time she’d seen him naked, and had the beginnings of a bald spot on the top of his head. His chest was furry to the point of making her wonder if his family tree held the evolutionary missing link.

Mike was broad and strong, tanned with rippling muscles that made her wish he never had to put a shirt on again. His smooth skin made her fingers tingle and her palms itch. He had a strong nose and a square chin. He could have used a couple more inches of hair—she wasn’t fond of the military cropped cut—but what was there was thick enough to make him the star of a shampoo commercial. Altogether, he was an impressive male specimen and she didn’t know what on earth she was going to do with him. Fortunately, except for helping him get well, nothing was required.

“I unpacked a few of your things,” she said, pulling open the top drawer of her dresser and taking out shorts and a T-shirt. “I thought you might like to get dressed.”

“That would be great. Maybe later.”

When she turned around to look at him, he’d already set the spoon down and was leaning against the pillows. He’d finished all the soup and two of the crackers.

“Do you want some more?” she asked.

“No. I’m weaker than I thought.”

“You’ve been through a lot. What with being shot and all.”

He rubbed his chin and grimaced. “You got this funny look on your face when you said that.”

“Said what?”

“Shot.”

“Not many people around here have much experience with that. We don’t get a lot of terrorist activity in the suburbs.”

“It’s not a lot of fun.”

“You’ve got painkillers,” she said, walking toward one of the duffel bags. “Do you want one? And please, don’t try to be macho and impress me. I’ve got children, I’m immune.”

“Yeah, okay.”

She dug around for the pills, then shook one out onto her palm. “You know, I find it fascinating that you travel with so little luggage. Do you have things in storage somewhere?”

He took the pill from her and downed it with a single gulp of water. After wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he shook his head. “No furniture or anything. I have my work clothes. Suits, shirts, that sort of thing. I dropped them off at a cleaners in L.A. and he keeps them until my next job. But I don’t need a whole lot.”

“You’re just like my dad. He traveled light, too. If something was too much of a bother, he didn’t want it around. It was one of the reasons we never had a dog.” She leaned against the footboard post and folded her arms over her chest. She knew men like Mike traveled light emotionally as well as physically. “One day his family got to be too much bother, so he left us behind, too.”

Mike grimaced. “That’s one of the reasons I never married. In my line of work, it’s a mistake.”

“You never wanted a home life? Something stable, something of your own?”

“Nope.” His brown eyes held hers. “Not my style.”

In her heart, she knew exactly what Mike’s style would be. He had the looks to turn any woman’s head. He would seduce her easily, then move on. He seemed nice enough to issue a warning first, but women too often believed they could change a man, maybe even make him want to stay. Cindy knew better.

“My stepfather was just like my dad,” she said. “I guess my mom was attracted to the type.”

“Where did that leave you?”

“Alone.”

“Is that why you’re a teacher with two-point-four children?”

“I guess so. I wanted them to have what I never had. A stable home life. Two parents who really cared about them. I was determined to marry someone sensible. Unfortunately, I picked Nelson.” She moved closer to him and reached for the tray.

“Better luck next time,” he said.

“Right.” Next time she was going to do the leaving so it wouldn’t hurt so much. “You’re looking pretty tired. Why don’t you try and get some rest?”

Mike shook his head. “I was going to tell you I’m fine, but I can’t keep my eyes open. I appreciate this, Cindy. I’ll get out of here tomorrow.”

“Don’t be foolish.” She started walking toward the door. “According to your doctor, you’re going to be here for at least another week. You haven’t been any trouble. Besides, it’s summer vacation. Having you around keeps the kids from being bored.”

She turned back to him. Mike was sprawled out on the pillow, already asleep. A short lock of hair fell over his forehead. His tanned torso contrasted with her pale sheets. The bed and linens had been purchased since the divorce, so Mike was the first male to sleep there.

“Ah, Cindy, you live a wild life,” she told herself as she walked into the kitchen. “What would the neighbors think if they knew you had a nearly naked man in your bedroom in the middle of the day?”

The way her luck with men ran, Mike was about as good as it was going to get. She was fooling herself when she said she planned to be the one leaving next time. There wasn’t going to be a next time. It was so much easier not to get involved at all.


Chapter Three (#ulink_c2dc4a88-a3ec-54e3-9269-31ce749aaed9)

Cindy looked up when she heard the knock on her back door. Beth waved and turned the knob.

“I came by to say hi,” Beth said.

“Sure you did.” Cindy added the flour mixture into the wet ingredients and stirred. “You wouldn’t be the least bit interested in how Mike is getting along.”

Beth stuck her finger in the bowl and scooped out a taste. She licked off the batter. “You make the best peanut butter cookies on the block. You must be adding something I don’t know about. And you have to admit, life is certainly more interesting since your young man came to stay with you.”

“He’s not a young man, he’s close to forty. He’s also not mine. And to answer the question I see burning in your eyes, yes, last time I checked he was asleep.”

Beth grinned. “Oh, goody!” She slipped off her sandals and walked quietly across the floor. “Yesterday he had his sheet all bunched up around his waist. Do you think it’s still like that?”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Beth, he’s been up and sort of staggering around since then. I doubt he’s in exactly the same pose. While we’re on the subject, I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate knowing you come to look at him like he’s some animal on exhibit at the zoo.”

“Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud. How often does a handsome man just fall into our lives? We must take advantage of the situation. Strike while the iron’s hot. Seize the day. Begin as—”

“How many more clichés?”

Beth grinned again. “You don’t appreciate me, Cindy. And you should. I’m not just a good friend, I’m highly entertaining.” She tossed her head, sending her spiked bangs dancing across her forehead, then turned and headed for the bedroom.

It was several minutes before she returned. Cindy had already filled two cookie sheets and stuck them in the oven. She was filling a third when she heard an exaggerated sigh.

“He’s incredibly gorgeous.”

She glanced up and saw Beth leaning against the doorway to the dining room. She had a hand pressed against her chest. “I swear I got palpitations just looking at him. Feel.”

“Thank you, I’d rather not.”

Beth walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “My Lord, how do you stand it? He’s just lying there, naked.”

“He’s not naked.”

Eyebrows nearly as red as her hair raised slightly. “How would you know?”

“I put out clean underwear every morning, and it disappears.”

“How disappointing.” Beth leaned back in the chair and sighed once more. “Still, it’s just you and him alone. Night after night.”

“The kids are here,” she reminded her friend. “You’re trying to make this into something it’s not. Mike is Grace’s brother. I’m doing this for her, not him. As for him being attractive...” Beth looked at her. Cindy held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, I’ll admit he’s pretty good-looking.”

“Good-looking? The man could jump-start a person in a coma.”

“Beth!”

“Well, he could! I just wish he’d wake up so I could see his eyes. What color are they?”

“Brown.”

“Oh.”

Cindy looked up from the cookie batter. “You sound disappointed.”

“I was hoping for something more exciting. Gray maybe, or a nice—” She broke off and frowned. “You know, there aren’t many colors for eyes to be, are there? Okay, brown.”

The timer on the oven beeped. Beth stood up. Like Cindy, she was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. The Houston summer heat required a minimum of clothing, even in the air-conditioned house.

Beth grabbed the pot holders resting on the counter and took the baked cookies out of the oven. She set them on the cooling racks on the edge of the island, then grabbed the filled pans Cindy had prepared.

Cindy smiled. This was one of the things she liked about where she lived. Being friends with her neighbors and sharing time with them. She, Beth and Grace had canned fruit together, baked pies and even prepared holiday dinners. They ran back and forth when ingredients were low, the days too long or something bad happened in their lives. Both women had been there for her when Nelson had walked out. She would never forget that.

Beth closed the oven, then tossed the pot holders on the counter next to the cooling cookie sheets. She grabbed a spatula, slipped a cookie off and picked it up. “Hot!” she said, bouncing it from hand to hand and blowing. When it was cool enough, she took a bite. Her eyes closed and she smiled. “Perfect.” She offered half to Cindy.

Cindy tasted the cookie and had to admit, she had a way with peanut butter. She took the glass of water Beth had filled and sipped. “I miss Grace,” she said.

“Tell me about it. I miss her, and I miss my kids.” Beth returned to the kitchen table and sat down. “I know, I know. I’m the one who couldn’t wait for them to leave. They annoy the hell out of me. I mean, they’re practically teenagers. That’s their job. When they said they wanted to go to camp I was thrilled. But it’s only been a few days and the house is so quiet and boring.”

Cindy smiled. “I thought you and Darren were going to plan things for the two of you to do.”

“We are. It’s kind of fun, actually. But I still miss the kids. I guess this is what the empty nest is like. I’ll end up like those old women who keep their children’s rooms as shrines. Everything in its place.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Beth looked up and shook her finger. “Don’t try to trick me into changing the subject. How’s it going with Mike?”

Cindy thought about pretending ignorance, but there was no point. Beth was like a bulldog. Once she got hold of something, she never let go. “It’s not going anywhere. I don’t want it to go anywhere. He’s just a houseguest. Grace’s brother, nothing more.”

“He’s a single, good-looking guy.”

“I’m not interested in getting involved with him or anyone.”

“We only want you to be happy.”

“We?” She didn’t like the sound of that. She picked up the last two unused cookie sheets and began scooping dough into neat rows. “You and Darren, or you and Grace? You haven’t been trying to set me up, have you?”

Beth’s eyes widened with exaggerated innocence. “Set you up how? The man fell off a building, Cindy. As much as I want you to have a date, I wouldn’t send a man close to death just to get you alone with him.”

“I suppose.” But she was going to grill Grace the next time she spoke to her.

“It’s been two years.” Beth wasn’t smiling now. Her blue eyes were dark with concern. “It’s time to let go.”

Cindy shifted uncomfortably. When the cookies were laid out neatly, she dipped a fork into a small bowl filled with flour and began making crisscross marks. “I have let go,” she said. “I don’t want Nelson back. In the last few months, I realized I hadn’t loved him for a while. Even before the divorce. But I thought we would stay together forever. I thought we would be friends and offer a stable home to our children. Dating is so—” She shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about it. I’m not ready.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Inspiration.” Cindy smiled.

“Someone to fall into your lap, so to speak?”

“Don’t start on Mike again. I barely know the man.” She set the fork down and faced her friend. “It’s not as easy as you think. Not many men want a woman with children. Even if I was interested, where am I supposed to meet these guys? I work at the middle school. I’m surrounded by kids all day. I love my job, but it doesn’t make it easy to socialize. It’s not as if I’m going to meet some cute man at the water fountain.”

Beth rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands. “I see your point. No offense, Cindy, but you’re not really the bar type.”

“I agree.” She shuddered again. She’d been to a bar once, with a friend from work. Another single teacher. It had been hideous. “Check on Allison and Jonathan, will you?”

“Sure.” Beth leaned toward the window. “I can see them playing in the yard. It looks like a game that involves far too much running for the time of day.”

Cindy glanced at the clock on the oven. It was nearly two. “The swim meet is at five. I should probably bring them in to rest for an hour or so.” She walked to the window and stared out.

Their house was at the end of the cul-de-sac. Beyond that was a wide expanse of grass and trees with a walking path down the center. The greenbelt was the main reason she and Nelson had bought this particular lot when they’d had the house built. It gave the kids a great place to play. The area was quiet and secluded, safe.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being alone?” Beth asked.

“You mean lonely?” Cindy glanced down at her friend. She shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t want the kids hurt again. It was hard enough for them when their dad left.”

“Maybe they’re not the only ones you’re scared about. Maybe you’re also worried about yourself.”

“I can’t deny that. I’ve been hurt, too. I’m beginning to think it’s easier not to try.”

The timer went off. Cindy moved to the oven and pulled out the cookies. She couldn’t imagine herself dating. When would she have time? Nelson only took the kids every other weekend. She wanted them to remember their childhood as happy, not a collection of baby-sitters because their mother was too busy trying to have a social life.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Beth said.

“Yes.”

“You’re being very stubborn.”

“Probably.”

“I care about you because you’re my friend.”

Cindy set two trays in the oven and set the timer again. “I know you do. I also know you’re sweet enough to change the subject.”

Beth pursed her lips as if she wasn’t going to agree, then she nodded. “Just this once. Now we can talk about Mike some more.”

Cindy groaned.

“Darren and I are having a barbecue a week from Saturday. You’re invited. Bring Mike.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come?”

“He has to. Everyone wants to meet him. It will be fun. You’ll see. Besides, you have to show him around sometime. You can’t imagine the phone calls I’ve been getting.”

Actually, Cindy could. She’d gotten a few of her own. Everyone was curious about “Grace’s bodyguard broth-er.” “I can’t decide if it’s the fact that he’s single or if it’s his career that has everyone so curious,” she said.

“It’s both.” Beth rose to her feet and walked to the refrigerator. “Is it all right?” she asked, motioning to the door.

“I’m sorry. I should have offered. Grab me a soda, too, please.”

Beth pulled out two diet sodas. She handed Cindy one, then popped the top on the other. After taking a long drink, she set it on the counter and began sliding cooled cookies into a plastic container.

“Mary Ellen called to find out if I thought she should offer to cook him meals,” Beth said.

Cindy snorted. “Yeah, right. Does this mean she’s done having her way with the delivery guy?”

“Probably not. But I would say the affair is winding down. You know how she likes to have someone waiting in the wings.”

“Mike is in a weakened condition,” Cindy said. She finished spooning out the last of the cookie batter and set the bowl in the sink. “I’m going to have to protect him from Mary Ellen. That brunette bombshell could kill a man.”

“That’s not all,” Beth said. She sauntered over to the sink and turned on the hot water. “Everyone is very intrigued by the fact that he’s staying here with you.”

“What?” Cindy spun around and turned off the faucet. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get mad at me. I’m not making up the rumors, I’m just telling you. After all, it’s been two years since Nelson left and you haven’t been on a single date. Now you have a naked man living in your house.”

Cindy leaned against the counter and sighed. “He’s not naked,” she said weakly, then wondered if it really mattered. She knew how people talked in small communities. Gossip spread faster than fire ants. Nothing was as interesting as what everyone else was doing.

“I hope you’re telling everyone he’s been injured,” she said. “My goodness, he can barely walk to the bathroom unescorted. We’re not having wild sex. My children live here.”

“The sex doesn’t have to be wild, if that would help.”

Cindy just stared at her.

“Fine. Disappoint all your friends. See if I care.” Beth squeezed soap into the large mixing bowl and swished it around. When the water was sudsy, she picked up the measuring spoons and cups and dropped them in. She reached for a dishcloth. “It hasn’t even been a week, so I’ll forgive you for not having had sex yet. But you have to give me something. Have you at least seen him naked?”

“Beth!”

“Oh, please say you have.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

Beth looked at her, then at the dishes. “If you see him naked, will you tell me?”

“I’m not going to see him naked.”

“But you have to.”

“Why?” Cindy stared at her friend. “You’ve finally slipped over the edge, haven’t you? You’ve lost your fragile hold on reality.”

“Of course not. It’s just...” Beth drew in a deep breath. “I met Darren in college. I hadn’t dated much in high school and he was the first man I, you know, did it with.” A spot of color appeared on her cheeks. “I talk big, but the truth is, I’ve only been with Darren. I’ve never even seen another man’s...” She cleared her throat. “I just want to know what he looks like.”

Beth was up to her wrists in soapy water. Cindy took a step closer and gave her a hug. “You’re a terrific friend. I was a virgin when I met Nelson, too. So I haven’t seen anyone else naked, either.”

“It’s just so unfair.” Beth glanced at her, blue eyes dancing. “Men see women naked all the time. It’s in magazines, in the movies. Maybe we should take advantage of that for the next school fund-raiser. We could hire men to walk around naked. Think of the cover charge to get in. It could be a couple hundred dollars. We could buy a lot of sports equipment with that.”

Cindy released Beth and stepped back. “You are crazy.”

“It’s a great idea.”

“No.”

Beth finished washing the measuring cups and rinsed them. “Can I at least go check and see if Mike really has on underwear?”

“No.”

“But if I peel the covers back slowly, he won’t even—”

“No! I mean it, Beth.”

“You’re no fun.” She rinsed her hands and grabbed a towel.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Cindy walked Beth to the door. “You want some cookies?”

“Save them for Mike. He’ll need his strength to survive around here. Don’t forget. Next Saturday. Say, six o’clock?”

“I’ll ask him, but if he doesn’t want to come, I can’t make him.”

“Of course you can. Bat your eyes. If that doesn’t work, try a low-cut T-shirt.”

“Sorry, they’re all like this.” She fingered the neckline of her crewneck shirt.

“So disappointing. If you’re not going to be a little more wild, I might have to find another single friend.” Before Cindy could answer, Beth gave her a hug. “Take care of yourself and that hunk of yours.”

“I will.”

As Beth crossed the street, Cindy glanced around the house toward the greenbelt. About eight children were playing together in the shade of a pecan tree. She wondered where they got their energy. It was about ninety-four degrees and the humidity was nearly that high. Just standing in the open doorway was making her sweat.

She stepped inside and shut it behind her. The timer on the oven dinged.

After taking out the last batch of cookies, she put a couple of cool ones on a plate, then poured a glass of lemonade. A quick glance at the clock told her it was almost time for Mike to wake up. In the last couple of days, they’d settled into a routine. He slept for an hour in the morning, then right after lunch. He spent his afternoons reading or watching TV. Every day he was getting a little stronger, but he wasn’t going to be back at work anytime soon.

She carried the plate and glass into the bedroom. He was sitting up against the pillows.

“I thought you’d still be asleep.”

“Oh, really? But the conversation you and your friend were having was so interesting.”

She started to set the plate down, then froze. Heat burned her cheeks as embarrassment flooded her. “You heard us?” she asked, her voice a squeak.

“I don’t know if I heard all of it, but I heard enough.” He studied her. “I never knew what women talked about when they were alone. I think it was better that way.”

She cleared her throat. After setting the plate and glass on the nightstand, she brushed her hands against her shorts. Her conversation with Beth had been completely innocent, she reminded herself. And private. It wasn’t his business.

Except Beth had asked about seeing him naked.

Cindy glanced at his bare chest, then raised her gaze higher to his face. He’d shaved that morning, although he hadn’t had the strength to stand. She’d had to bring a chair into the bathroom for him. She could see the strong lines of his face and the slight tilt at the corner of his mouth. One eyebrow raised expectantly. She didn’t know if he was annoyed or mad.

“It’s Friday,” she said at last. “If it makes you feel any better, on Monday we generally discuss women being naked. We try to be fair about it.”

Mike grinned. Cindy returned his smile, her relief tangible.

“Beth sounds like a scary lady,” he said.

“She’s really very nice. Oh, did you hear about the barbecue?”

“Just a word here and there.” He’d been asleep until a strange woman had tiptoed into his room. Their conversation had carried to him in the quiet house, although when they ran water in the kitchen, it drowned out the sound of their voices.

“Everyone will want to meet you,” she said. “You’re something of a local celebrity. Not just because you’re Grace’s brother, but what with your work and the injuries...”

He remembered his sister’s instructions to be nice to her friends. “I’ll go,” he said, and knew he would hate everything about the evening.

“It’s not until a week from Saturday. I’m sure you’ll be better.”

“I hope so.” He flexed his sore leg and winced.

“I need to change the bandage,” she said.

He nodded and flipped back the covers. Cindy went into the bathroom and came back with a small box containing her supplies. She took her nursing very seriously. As he scooted over to give her more room, she settled on the edge of the mattress. He grabbed his leg below the healing bullet wound and raised it while she slipped a towel underneath.

“We’re getting to be quite a team,” he said.

“Practice.” Her hands were small but sure. She gave him a quick, apologetic glance, then carefully removed the bandage.

She studied the hole in his thigh. It was sort of lumpy and still red but it wasn’t infected and didn’t bleed anymore.

“I think it’s better,” she told him.

He leaned back as she continued her treatment. Over the smell of disinfectant, he caught the fragrance of her perfume. In the last four days, he’d accepted the fact that she was only ever going to wear shorts and a T-shirt around him and that he’d better get used to long honey-colored legs taunting him at every turn. He wondered how men in the suburbs got anything done with all these half-naked women around. Maybe they became immune, or didn’t bother noticing. If so, they were fools.

Having Cindy bend over his injury, with her light brown hair falling loose and her face all scrunched up with concentration, was the best part of his day. Her friend across the street might be all hot to see him naked, but he didn’t think Cindy ever noticed he wasn’t wearing anything but briefs. To her, he was simply Grace’s brother. Almost a eunuch.

Of course, if he kept noticing the way her breasts moved, she would soon have proof he was very much a man. Instead of indulging himself, he forced his thoughts elsewhere. In the last four days he’d learned two things. First, Sugar Land, Texas, wasn’t like anywhere he’d ever been before. Even sleeping half the day away, he sensed the difference. Second, Cindy Jones wasn’t for him. He might admire her legs, and the way she filled out her shirt, but she was as off-limits as his best friend’s wife. If he had a best friend. She’d just admitted she’d only been with one man in her life. He’d never dated anyone for more than a month. He didn’t believe in relationships, she needed to be married.

She applied a fresh bandage. “The kids are outside playing,” she said and stood up. She reached for the pair of jeans she’d folded earlier and placed on the footboard. “If you can get dressed and out to the family room before they come inside, that means you get to control the TV remote. If you don’t, they have the power.”

He shuddered at the thought. “Do you know what’s in those cartoons?”

“Yes, that’s why I try to be out of the room.” She tossed him the jeans, then bent over his duffel bag and dug out a T-shirt. “Think of it as your aerobics exercise for the day. A race for the remote control.”

His heart was already getting a workout, he thought, watching the way the fabric of her shorts pulled tight around her derriere. The feminine curves tempted him. He didn’t know what the problems had been in her marriage, but he was willing to bet her husband hadn’t left because he wanted someone better-looking. If Mike was wrong, her husband was a fool.

Cindy tossed him a T-shirt then started for the door. Before she left, she glanced back at him. “About Beth,” she said, then nibbled on her lower lip. “She’s just talking. She tries to be very worldly and all, but she’s in love with her husband. She’d never actually do anything.”

“I know.”

“I just didn’t want you to think that she was like that.”

“Maybe when I meet her, I should offer her a quick look.”

Cindy laughed. “Only if I can be there to see the expression on her face.”

“Deal.”

“Get dressed, eat your snack, then head for the family room. The kids will be outside for another half hour or so.”

With that, she left. He found it humorous that she would tend to the wound on his thigh but she always left him alone to dress. She treated him with amused tolerance. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d joked with someone, or bothered to relax. He’d been working too hard, without a break between jobs.

If nothing else, this forced time off would give him a chance to regroup. As soon as he was able, he could move into Grace’s house. Once there, he would think about what it was he wanted to do with his life. His recent encounter with death had him wondering about different career options. He was pushing forty. Next time he might not be so lucky.

He grabbed his jeans and started to slip them on his good leg. Before he’d pulled them up past his knee, there was a scream from outside.

“Mommy, Mommy, Allie’s been hurt.”

“Allison!”

Mike heard Cindy race through the house, open the front door and call for her daughter. He jerked on the jeans, and about lost his balance when his head started to swim. He grabbed the footboard and held on. The room twirled and darkened, then slowly returned to normal. He pulled the trousers up over his hips and quickly fastened the buttons. He started out the door in a slow shuffling step.

Pain radiated from his bullet wound. Darkness nipped at the edges of his vision. He could hear conversation and someone crying. As he reached the entryway, Cindy came in carrying Allison in her arms.

The little girl was sobbing. She clung to her mother as blood oozed from a scrape on her knee. Behind them, Jonathan and a couple of other kids he didn’t know trailed in. Cindy looked up and saw him.

“Mike, could you bring that box of medical supplies into the kitchen, please?” Before he answered, she looked over her shoulder. “Billy and Ashley, you’re going to have to go home now. Jonathan, shut the door.”

Mike headed for the bathroom. By the time he got to the kitchen, he was breathing hard and hanging on to walls for support. Jonathan stood by the entrance to the family room, just watching. Cindy had settled on one of the kitchen chairs, with Allison’s injured leg propped up on the one next to it. Using a damp washcloth to wipe away the dirt, Cindy cleaned the still-bleeding wound.

Mike shuffled forward and placed the first-aid kit on the table. Cindy glanced up at him. Her green eyes widened. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Take a seat.”

He sank onto the chair across from hers.

Allison’s cries had quieted to sniffles, but she still kept her face buried in her mother’s neck. She winced as the washcloth touched her scrape.

“Hush, baby girl,” Cindy murmured. “It’s going to be all right.”

She reached for the antiseptic and dampened a cotton ball. Mike flinched, knowing what was coming. He’d treated some bad wounds before, but those had been on adults. This was seven-year-old Allison who came to visit him every morning and told him about her imaginary friend, Shelby. He hated to see her face streaked with tears.

“Take a deep breath,” Cindy warned, then touched the cotton to the scrape. Allison shook all over. She sucked in another breath, then let it out in a hiccuped sob.

“I know,” her mother told her. “Almost done. You’re going to be fine, although I don’t think you’ll be swimming this afternoon.”

“Can I still have cookies?” Allison asked, then sniffed.

“Sure.” Cindy opened a bandage and placed it over the scrape. After smoothing it in place, she hugged her daughter close.

Mike stared at the pair. He felt something odd inside. A hollowness, as if he was just now noticing a piece that had been missing from his life for a long time. The ache felt old and bitterly familiar. It came from being on the outside looking in.

As Cindy held her child and rocked her, light brown hair fell over blond. Her voice was soft as she hummed tunelessly. He could hear Allison’s breathing calm.

The girl opened her eyes and looked at him. A single tear dripped onto her mother’s shoulder.

“Better?” he asked.

Allison nodded.

It was as if a giant fist were squeezing his heart. Maybe it was seeing all he’d never had. Not just the house, although his family had been poor. He’d grown up in a one-bedroom apartment, sleeping on the sofa, or the floor of his mother’s room if she was entertaining. He’d always felt passed over in the business of her life. First she’d been working so much, then she’d remarried and had Grace. Her new child had claimed her time. Funny, he’d never blamed his half sister for that.

Watching Cindy hold Allison reminded him of all he’d missed. The caring, the bond between a mother and child. The love. Until that moment, he’d forgotten the emotion even existed.


Chapter Four (#ulink_1d1f14ad-0e7d-5efc-a92d-c9d8d46bda97)

Mike braced his hands against the tiled wall of the shower and let the hot water run over him. He breathed in deeply, noticing it didn’t hurt so bad to inhale. Pretty soon he would be able to cough and sneeze like a normal person.

When he’d rinsed the shampoo from his hair, he reached for the bar of soap and lathered it leisurely. As he rubbed the bar over his body, he noted which parts still hurt like hell and which were healing. The bullet wound would take the longest. The entry hole was just about closed, but the exit wound was still nasty looking. In the next day or so, he was going to have to start rehabilitation. As he rinsed off the soap, he grimaced. Rehabilitation was a fancy way of saying he would spend the next three months sweating in a gym, slowly bringing his torn and injured muscles back to normal.

He turned slowly under the spray, then pushed in the knob to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower. The bathroom was large enough that the steam simply floated away. The wide mirror opposite didn’t fog up. Instead, it reflected his image clearly. He snapped up the towel he’d left hanging on the hook and ran it over his chest and arms. After passing it over his legs, he rubbed his hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist.

Mike limped toward the double sinks. Cindy had left his shaving kit next to the one on the left, so that’s where he brushed his teeth and shaved.

The silence of the house sounded odd on this weekday morning. Usually, one or both of the children were inside playing, running or shrieking. He’d grown used to dozing between the calls of various games or the thunder of feet on the stairs. Cindy tried to keep them quiet when he was resting, but he’d quickly learned that a grown-up’s and a child’s definition of quiet were extremely different.

He’d had a bad night, with the pain keeping him awake, even after he’d taken his pills. As he bent over the sink and splashed shaving cream off his face, he felt the twinge in his leg. It was better today. He’d been shot before so he knew the drill. There would be bad moments, and good ones. Eventually, it healed and only the weather would remind him of the injury.

This morning, Cindy had taken the children to the grocery store with her. Mike had asked her to pick up a few things for him. He wondered if she was getting tired of nursing him, but every time he mentioned leaving, she insisted he stay until he was more mobile. He didn’t mind being here. The kids were kind of fun and Cindy was prettier than any nurse he’d ever had. Between her shorts and those snug T-shirts she wore, he was about ready to—

The sound of the doorbell cut through his thoughts. He finished wiping his face, then limped to the front door. The marble tiles in the entryway were cold on his bare feet. The beveled-glass window in the wooden front door allowed him to see the shape of the person on the other side, but not her features. He turned the lock and pulled open the door.

The woman in front of him was in her sixties. Despite the already rising temperature of the Houston summer morning, she was wearing a long-sleeved dress in a blue-and-green floral print, with a little straw hat on her head. Tight gray curls marched across her forehead. A purse hung over her left forearm and she was clutching a clipboard to her chest.

“Yes?” Mike asked when the woman didn’t say anything.

She stared. Her small blue eyes widened and her mouth opened. There wasn’t any sound.

“Were you looking for Mrs. Jones?” he asked.

The woman nodded. She was short, maybe an inch over five feet, with the matronly roundness of a grandmother. Her face paled, until the powder she was wearing seemed colorful by comparison.

“Is she here?” the woman asked, her voice high-pitched and shaking. Her gaze, which had swept over him thoroughly, now settled on his bare feet.

“Not right now. She’s at the grocery store. I expect her shortly. May I give her a message?”

“And you are?”

He frowned. “A friend.”

“I see.” With that, she handed him a sheet of paper. At the top, a banner reminded the reader of the annual blood drive at the local church. “If you could give this to her, please.”

Mike glanced down at the towel he was wearing and groaned silently. Damn. He was flashing the local church lady.

“Ah, ma’am? Cindy, ah, Mrs. Jones, is a friend of my sister’s. I was recently injured on the job and she’s been taking care of me. It’s not what you think.”

The woman turned smartly and started down the walkway, never once looking back. He thought of continuing his explanation, then figured she wouldn’t believe him, anyway. He swore again.

Before he could close the door, he heard a call from across the street. As he looked up, he saw a woman standing in her front yard. She had short, dark red hair and the kind of chest that made a man act like a fool.

“Hello,” the woman called. “You must be Mike. I’m Beth, Cindy’s friend. How are you feeling?”

Beth? The same Beth who had wanted to see him naked? “Fine,” he called back.

“I see you’re up and around.”

And flashing the neighborhood. “Yes. Thanks. See you soon.” As he closed the door, he had the fleeting thought that he could solve Beth’s problems by dropping the towel, but then figured she would like it too much. As he made his way back to the bedroom, he wondered how he was going to explain the incident with the church lady to Cindy.

By the time Cindy and the kids returned, he’d pulled on jeans and a shirt. He carried in one load of groceries, then had to sit down before his leg gave out.

Allison set a sack of potatoes on the table in front of him and smiled shyly. “Shelby says you’re going to get sick again if you do too much.”

“Tell Shelby she’s a very smart little girl.”

Allison dimpled.

“How are you feeling?” Cindy asked as she carried in the last armful of groceries. Jonathan trailed behind her, shutting the doors of the minivan.

“I’m going out to play,” he said, hovering by the back door.

“Me, too,” Allison added. Her knee was better with only a small bandage covering the worst of the scrape.

“Go ahead,” Cindy said, then laughed as they closed the door. “They’ll do anything to avoid putting away the groceries. Even play outside in the heat.”

“They do that, anyway,” he said.

“You’re right.” She glanced around at the kitchen. “Do you think we have enough food?”

He followed her gaze. The countertops were in the shape of an L. Bags of groceries covered the white surface. There were twelve-packs of soda, cartons of detergent and double packs of cereal.

“Expecting a famine?” he asked.

She chuckled. “It’s triple-coupon day. You should have seen the lines. And soda was on sale, along with a great cut of meat. The grocery store does this a couple of times in the summer. I suppose it’s to get people out in the heat.”

Money was tight. He should have figured that out already. She’d explained that most divorced women couldn’t afford to keep their houses. “How much do I owe you for what I’ve eaten?”

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. He supposed she was trying to intimidate him, but all she did was draw her shirt tighter over her breasts. He’d already had two highly erotic dreams about her. He looked away and forced himself to think of something else.

“I was making conversation, not hinting,” she said. “I could feed you for a month and not even get close to what your sister has given my kids in snacks and meals. So I don’t want to hear another word about paying me for your food.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He rose to his feet. “At least let me help put the groceries away.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ll fall flat on your butt.” She leaned over the table and pushed on his chest. He was still tired from carrying in two bags, so he didn’t argue. He took the glass of juice she offered and watched her put away the food.

She moved around the kitchen with graceful ease. Her movements were almost a dance, the smooth lifting and bending. She kicked off her shoes and he saw she painted her toenails pale pink. Her shorts were red and her T-shirt had a drawing printed on the front that proclaimed her to be Queen of Everything. Small gold hoops dangled from her earlobes and a red headband held her hair off her face.

He supposed there was nothing unusual about Cindy Jones. In this neighborhood, hundreds of women just like her wore T-shirts and bare feet as they put away groceries. Yet, he’d never sat in a kitchen and observed the ritual.

She pulled three pink-paper-wrapped packages out of a bag and sighed. “Pork roast, roasted potatoes and salad. My favorite meal.”

“Sounds great.”

She placed two of the packages in the freezer and one in the refrigerator, then tossed him the empty bag to fold. “It is. Nelson never appreciated my cooking. He often wanted to go out. But I like eating at home. Which do you prefer?”

Mike was startled by the question. “I don’t cook much.”

“Of course you wouldn’t when you’re with a client or subject or whatever you call them. But what about when you’re off work? Or did you leave that for your lady friends?”

“Sometimes women cook for me.”

She was putting away cereal, raising herself on tiptoe and sliding the new boxes behind the old. As she came down on her heels, she glanced at him and smiled.

“Why is it men can take care of themselves perfectly well when they’re alone, but the first second they live with a woman, they suddenly become helpless?” she asked.

“I’ve never lived with a woman.”

The smile faded as her eyebrows drew together. “Really? I knew you hadn’t been married, but I just assumed...” Her voice trailed off. She reached into the full bags on the kitchen table and drew out canned beans.

Until she questioned him, he hadn’t really thought about it. “My life-style isn’t conducive to long-term relationships.”

“I guess not.” She reached in the bag for more canned goods. “No roommates?”

“I told you I travel light.”

“Ah, yes. Extra baggage weighs you down. Fight hard, fight lean.” She paused and shrugged. “For a long time I blamed the marines when my father left, but as I grew older, I saw that lots of other officers managed to balance a career and family. They were terrific fathers.” She looked in the bags on the table, then picked one up and started folding it. Her green eyes focused on something above his head. “When my father missed an important event at school or forgot my birthday, I used to wish one of the other families would adopt me. My friend Lorraine had a wonderful family. Warm, loving, everything I wanted. I remember thinking it wasn’t fair.”

Mike was startled when he realized he could picture Cindy as a child. She would look a little like Allison, only her eyes would be dark with pain. “Life’s not fair,” he said.

“I figured that one out on my own,” she said. “Although I still thought I could make it fair when I married Nelson.”

She finished folding the bag and slipped it into an open one, then moved to the long counter and started putting away fresh vegetables.

“Why did you get married?” he asked.

“The usual reasons.”

“Which are?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “You don’t know?”

“I never married. Never saw the need.” Or felt the compulsion. He liked women. Sex was great, but aside from that, he didn’t get the point. Why would anyone want to share quarters with someone else? He’d heard the fights, listened to his buddies complain. It was better to be alone. It was certainly easier.

“You ever been in love, Mike?” she asked.

“No.” He didn’t want to think about the loving part. That was the one piece of the puzzle that eluded him. Without wanting to, he remembered Cindy holding Allison in her arms after the little girl had been injured. The child had clung with the trust of someone who knows they’re loved and will be taken care of. Cindy hadn’t asked for anything in return, she’d simply given. He believed love existed—he’d seen it. It just didn’t live in his world. He hadn’t loved anyone, and no one had ever loved him, except maybe his sister.

She leaned against the counter and tilted her head to one side. “It’s lovely. Your heart beats fast, your palms get all sweaty.”

“Sounds like the flu.”

“Funny. When I first met Nelson, I just knew he was the one.”

“Because you felt all tingly inside?” The question was meant to come out sarcastic, but instead he sounded curious. And he was.

“Actually, no. That should have been my first clue. With Nelson, the love grew more slowly. I was attracted to him because he was so different from me. His family has lived in Houston for three generations. He was stable. Until college, he’d never been out of the state. I thought he was the answer to my prayers. I was wrong on that one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too, but it’s done. I’m going to do the best I can with my kids. They’re going to have everything I didn’t. Stability, a sense of continuity. A chance to grow up in one place. That’s one of the things I like about living here. I know our neighbors, and they know us.”

Mike had lived in his L.A. apartment for five years and hadn’t known even one of his neighbors. Of course, he was gone a lot, but even if he’d come home every night, he still wouldn’t have made friends with anyone. He preferred to be alone.

“This is a different world for me,” he said.

“I’m sure it is. Minivans, schools, churches on every corner.”

Damn. He’d forgotten. “Cindy, some lady came by while you were out and left you something.” Using the table for leverage, he pushed to his feet, then limped toward the foyer. The sheet of paper was where he’d left it on the hall tree. He limped back and handed it to her.

She scanned the flier. “I’m glad she stopped by. I’d nearly forgotten.” She grinned at him. “I guess you don’t have any blood to spare.”

“Not this week. Ah, Cindy, I didn’t think when she rang the doorbell.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Lord, you didn’t pull a gun on her, did you? Was she about five feet tall, kind of round with gray curls and wearing a hat?”

“That’s her and no, I didn’t threaten her with a gun.”

“Thank goodness. Miss Vanmeter is one of the most conservative members of the church. She’s a spinster and not very forgiving of us `young people,’ as she calls anyone under forty.”

He swallowed and leaned against the island for balance. “I’d just gotten out of the shower. I was shaving. I came to the door in my towel. I didn’t mean to flash the church lady.”

Cindy covered her mouth with her hand, but he could tell she was giggling. “The woman won’t go to a movie that isn’t rated G. I’m sure she’d never seen a naked man in her life.”

“I wasn’t naked. I was wearing a towel.”

“It was probably the highlight of her year.”

“She thinks we’re living together.”

That sobered her up. “Oh, my. Okay. I’ll call the church secretary and explain.” She drew in a breath. “I’ve never been involved in a scandal before.”

“There’s more.”

“The towel fell off? She made a pass at you?”

“I met Beth. She was standing in her yard while Miss Vanmeter was avoiding eye contact. We waved and said hello. Actually, she’s the one I thought about flashing.”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t. She would have enjoyed it too much.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Light color stained her cheeks. Little lines crinkled by her eyes. He was close enough that he could inhale the faint scent of her perfume. He liked the fragrance, and the way her laughter made him want to smile. He lived in a world of shadows, dodging death and trying to outwit assassins. Cindy lived in a world of normalcy and light.

Without thinking, he reached out and touched the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for making trouble with Miss Vanmeter.”

Electricity arced up his arm, through his chest and settled low in his belly. He couldn’t pull away fast enough. Cindy’s humor faded and she caught her breath as if she, too, had been burned.

He backed up and took his seat at the table. She continued to put away groceries. They talked, but the connection had been broken, severed by a physical awareness he couldn’t shake.

“I should probably be leaving,” he said. Usually, he couldn’t wait to get away, but this time, even though he mouthed the words, he didn’t want to move out of Cindy’s house. Which meant it was past time to go.





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