He muttered a string of curse words.
Ah, that was more like it. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
“My foot.”
“What about it?”
“Hurts.”
“Can you bear weight on it?”
“Yeow!”
“Obviously not.” Jillian sighed. “Can you hobble?”
The color drained from his face. “Hobbling’s a good option.”
“Lean on me.”
He leaned into her, and Jillian became aware of exactly how big he was. She was plenty tall, but he was still a head taller,
and his chest grazed against her breast. Through the material of both his flannel shirt and her silk blouse she could feel
his hard, honed masculine muscles flexing, and she could feel her own nipples tightening at the contact. She slid an arm around
his back.
She was so aware of him. His weight, his scent, his sinew and bones. She gulped, felt the movement slide all the way down
her throat, leaving her feeling dry and breathless. She’d never been so acutely aware of a man’s body before.
Or her own.
Her heart hammered. She moistened her lips, but the dryness hung on. Arid Colorado air.
And hot Colorado he-man.
Her thoughts were totally inappropriate.
Stop this. Stop thinking about his body. You’re a perv. The man needs a doctor. Get your head out of the gutter and on your
goal.
“Here we go,” Jillian said. “You ready? Out the door and down the stairs.”
“Stairs.” He grunted.
“You can do this. I’ll help you do this.” Jillian looked at Tuck’s face to make sure he was all right. He was staring at her
as if she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. He must have really whacked his head if the attraction was stronger
than pain. His gaze drilled into her, as penetrating as a buzz-saw blade, slicing right through her, causing her nipples to
strain even tighter against the lace of her bra.
Totally, completely inappropriate. Lusting after an injured man.
Concentrate on getting him down the stairs without too much jarring.
Without too much lusting.
They clumped down the stairs together, Tuck hanging on to the banister with one arm, his other arm slung over her shoulder,
his leg bent to lessen the likelihood of him whacking his injured foot against the steps.
She was so close, his warm breath feathered the fine hairs on her neck, causing shivers to run down her spine.
“I damn well hate this,” he grumbled.
“Hurting yourself?”
“Well that, but mostly I hate looking like a big pansy in front of you.”
“You don’t look like a pansy.”
“Right. This is exactly what every woman wants, a big strong guy who has to lean on
her
.”
“Hey, you’re not superman. Everyone needs someone to lean on now and again. I’m here. I’m tough and tall. It’s okay to lean.”
He grunted his disagreement, although he did say, “The tallness is a plus.”
Jillian realized that with having a wife who’d had a long illness, Tuck had played the role of caretaker for so long he felt
uncomfortable when he was in the position of needing someone to take care of him. Well, too bad, he could just get over his
macho need to be the rescuer.
Before Jillian and Tuck reached the bottom of the stairs, Will and Bill, who must have heard the commotion, came running to
help load Tuck into his pickup. She was relieved to step back and let the twins help out. Lexi came out of her store as well,
fluttering anxiously about and asking a hundred questions.
“Is there a hospital in town?” Jillian asked.
“You’ll have to take him to Boulder,” Bill said.
“Just take me back to the house and call Dr. Couts,” Tuck said. “I’ll be okay.”
“Forget it,” Jillian barked. “You’re going to the emergency room. End of discussion.”
“You sure are bossy,” Tuck said.
“Damn straight. You bust yourself up in front of me, you’re stuck with me until you’re officially patched up.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“See that you do.”
Once Tuck was sitting in the passenger seat, relief washed over her. She’d gotten him past the first hurdle. She thanked the
accountants and Lexi for their help and climbed in behind the wheel.
“Give me your keys,” Jillian said to Tuck. “And the directions to the hospital.”
“Can you drive a stick?”
“I can,” she said. “I’m multitalented.”
Tucker winced and lay his head back against the headrest.
“Does it hurt badly?”
“Not gonna be doing the Cotton-Eyed Joe anytime soon.”
“How’s your head?” She started the engine. “Still dizzy?”
“Better.”
“That’s good.” She angled for the highway and promptly smacked a pothole.
Tuck sucked in his breath through clenched teeth.
“Sorry, sorry. I don’t know where all the potholes in town are yet.”
“S’okay, but talk. Distract me from the ankle.”
“All right, all right. What should we talk about?”
“I dunno, what do you do for fun when you’re not being a lawyer?”
“I go running. I’ve run a couple of marathons, do three or four ten-kilometer races a year.”
“That’s exercise, not fun. How do you relax?”
It was a legitimate question and one she didn’t really have an answer for. “I do yoga occasionally.”
“Again, exercise.”
“Maybe I haven’t yet conquered the concept of relaxing,” she admitted.
“You’re going to have a hard time acclimating to Salvation until you learn how to slow down.”
“I’m getting that.”
“You may never be able to reduce your speed. The slow lane might not be in your nature.”
She shot a glance at him. “It’s not going to work. You’re not running me out of town.”
“I have been thinking,” Tuck said. “If that deed never turns up, how ’bout you sell me the lake house?”
“What? No.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I’m not a quitter. For another thing, I need this change of pace. As you pointed out, I don’t know how to
relax.”
“You can learn to relax anywhere. I’ve lived here two and a half years. It’s where I …”
Lost my wife.
He didn’t say the words, but she heard them just as clearly as if he had. She felt sorry for him, but she wasn’t going to
let him guilt her into leaving the lake house. The only way she was leaving was if he produced the deed. Blake had left the
lake house to her. It was as if he’d known the place was exactly what she needed. She was rebuilding her life here in Salvation.
She wanted a fresh start, and this was her chance.
“I’ll pay you more than it’s worth,” Tuck enticed.
“Why would you offer that if you knew the place had been deeded to you?”
“I want it.”
“Sorry.” Jillian shook her head. “It’s not for sale.”
“The place needs major work. It’s gonna cost you a mint to fix it up.”
“Then why would you pay more than it was worth?”
“Because the place means that much to me. Sentimental value.”
Guilt, that nagging emotion, knocked around her head. He certainly knew how to twist the knife. “It’s got sentimental value
to me as well. My mentor left it to me.”
“He left it to me too.”
“Which you can’t prove. I feel for your situation, truly I do—”
“But you don’t care.”
“Look, I don’t even really know you.”
“And yet you’re driving me to the hospital. What’s that all about?”
“Common courtesy. You’d do the same for me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Of course I would, but if the roles were reversed, I’d take your word for it about the deed and get out of the lake house.”
“Easy for you to say—the roles aren’t reversed.”
“Why is it so important to you? It’s gotta be more than the fact that Blake left you the house. If you were keeping it strictly
for sentimental value, you would just have it as a summer place. You wouldn’t have pulled up stakes, left your job in Houston
as assistant district attorney.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Come on, we’re living together. And besides, don’t you want to help me take the focus off my pain?”
This was the longest conversation they’d had in a week of living under the same roof. “I was feeling burned out,” she surprised
herself by admitting.
“And?”
“There’s no
and
.”
“There’s an
and
. I can hear it in your voice. What are you really running away from?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Okay, fine, keep it bottled up inside.” He shifted in the seat beside her and let out a small groan.
“It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?”
“Of course it hurts a lot, and you won’t even help distract me.”
“Okay, all right, I’ll distract you.”
“You’re a peach.”
Jillian snorted. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I could do something else to distract you.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
She didn’t miss the wicked tone of innuendo. “Sing ‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.’ ”
“A favorite of yours?”
Jillian narrowed her eyes. “I should just let you suffer in silence.”
“Please don’t. We’ve got twenty miles of highway stretching in front of us,” he said.
“I’m not even sure I like you. Why should I tell you my secrets?”
“It’s a man,” he guessed. “Broke your heart.”
“More like bruised my ego,” she admitted.
“What happened?”
She hesitated.
“Come on,” he wheedled. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
She shrugged. “Really, it’s nothing you want to hear about.”
“How do you know unless you tell me?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Jillian realized she did want to tell him, even though she was afraid of what he might think of
her. She felt awkward, self-conscious. She didn’t know why she was telling him this except that he was a stranger, and she
hadn’t told anyone about Alex, and the dirty secret was burning her up. Finally, she just blurted it out.
“I had an affair with a married man.” Furtively, Jillian angled a glance over at Tuck to see how he took the news.
His expression didn’t change.
That encouraged her to go on. “I didn’t know he was married,” she continued, realizing that she sounded defensive. She felt
defensive. No, that wasn’t true. She felt guilty, ashamed. “But he was married just the same.”
“That must have been a blow when you found out the truth.”
“It was horrible.” She shuddered. “Last year. Christmas Eve. I thought I’d surprise him. We’d been dating about a month, but
we’d never gone to his place. That should have been a tip-off. I was dense. Or I didn’t want to see the warning signs. I got
his address from his employee file and went to his house. I dressed up. Victoria’s Secret underneath a denim duster. I wore
cowboy boots. I even had toy six-shooters strapped to my hips.”
“Sounds sexy in a cowgirl kind of way.”
“Thank you, it was.”
“I would have liked to have seen you in it.”
“You can’t. I burned the outfit.”
“Darn my luck.”
He was sounding pretty damned chipper for a man with a busted ankle. “So anyway … I rang his doorbell …” She trailed off.
Did she really want to go there?
“And?”
“A woman comes to the door. Younger than me. Hell, she barely even looked twenty-two. Beautiful, beautiful girl. Dressed in
a sweet Christmas outfit. A vest with Santa faces on it. She had an infant on her hip, and she was smiling and smiling and
smiling like I was bringing her a big fat Christmas present. In the background, I hear
his
voice. ‘Who is it honey?’ he asks her.”
“Kick in the teeth.”
“To say the least. ‘Who are you?’ his baby wife asks me. She’s trying so hard to keep the smile on her face. Then
he
comes up behind her in the foyer. I’m tall. The baby wife isn’t. Our eyes meet over wifey’s head. His face goes pale, he
knows he’s busted. It hits me all at once. I am so stupid, so clueless.”
“So what didja do?”
“What could I do? I’m feeling like I went fifteen rounds with Mike Tyson, but I figure there’s no reason for two of us to
feel that way. I didn’t do it to protect him. Buzzards could peck his eyes out and I wouldn’t shoo them away, but I couldn’t
bear to crush little Miss-Santa-Claus-Vest’s heart, so I simply said, ‘Sorry, wrong house.’ I turned and ran back to my car.”
“That was kind of you, sparing the wife’s feelings.”
“It was very uncharacteristic of me. My impulse was to cold-cock him right in front of her. I don’t know why I didn’t rat
him out. Or maybe I do. I remember looking into her face and thinking, ‘She believes she’s got the world on a string. She
thinks she’s landed this great guy who’s given her a great life, and she’s in for a world of hurt when she finds out the truth.’
But I couldn’t be the one to knock the house of cards down on her. Yes, I’m tough. In the courtroom, I take no prisoners.
But there, on that porch, I knew opening my mouth would be like kicking a puppy.”
“The guy sounds like a complete prick. You’re better off without him.”
“Yeah.”
“Why were you with him in the first place?”
“He was handsome and could be very charming and witty. I have a thing for witty men.”
“I’ll try to remember that. Were you in love with him?”
“I was trying to be in love with him.”
“You can’t try to be in love with someone,” Tuck said. “You either are or you aren’t.”
“Okay, then, I wasn’t. But I wanted to be.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never been in love, and I just wanted to know what it felt like.”
“You’ve never been in love?” He sounded incredulous. “Honest?”
“No. Not romantic love. I mean, I loved Blake, but in a daughterly kind of way.”
“Why haven’t you ever been in love?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I guess I never let myself. I had dreams—big dreams—and I wasn’t going to get sidetracked.”
“Not even a high school crush?”
She bit her lip. “Not that I can recall. I’ve always felt like an outcast because of it. Like there’s something wrong with
me because I didn’t feel … this … this
thing
everyone else carries on about. But all my friends were falling in love, and they seemed so happy and I … I wanted that too.
I wanted to be normal.”