One From The Heart (5 page)

“Depends on whether or not you’re going to make me take your pants off,” she said pointedly. She intended to be sarcastic, but she only made him grin that teasing, mischievous grin.

“Nope. The doc closed the cut with clamps so I could bend my knee a little … unless, of course, you
want
to take my pants off.”

A discreet little cough sounded and Hannah looked around directly into Rick Archer’s eyes. Her first inclination was to get out of Ernie’s embrace, but since neither he nor Petey seemed to have any intention of letting go of what they had, she simply stood.

“I thought that was you,” Rick said, his voice as tight as the small frown fixed just between his eyes. “So what’s going on?” His eyes cut to Ernie Watson and back again. “You weren’t at work today. Nobody at
KHRB
seemed to know why.”

“I had a family problem,” Hannah said, not liking the accusation in his voice. She had been out with him a number of times, but not enough to justify the annoyance she was hearing now. They weren’t lovers—though they had come close once, before Hannah had come to her senses. She liked Rick; he was witty and ruggedly handsome and fun, but she simply hadn’t wanted that kind of involvement. She was troubled by his keen ambition, for one thing. He had his own local talk show,
People’s Eye
, and had every hope of one day receiving the “call” from one of the networks, no matter what he had to do to get it. She had let ambition take over her own life once, as balm for a broken heart, and to a very unadmirable end. She’d become jaded and callous, until she’d finally realized that she didn’t want success at the price of her self-respect—either for herself or for Rick, whom she liked and wanted to respect.

“I didn’t know you had cowboys in the family,” he said lightly, his eyes flicking over Ernie in a way that would have made a lesser man self-conscious. The look seemed to have no effect on Ernie at all.

“John Ernest Watson,” Ernie said before Hannah could make any introductions. He handed the umbrella to Petey so he could shake hands. Petey promptly clunked Rick in the head with it. “I’m a friend of Hannah’s sister, Elizabeth,” Ernie added, trying not to grin.

“Frederick Archer,” Rick said, dodging another of Petey’s passes with the umbrella. “I’m a friend of Hannah’s.”

Hannah listened to this subtle male parry with fascination. Underlying the seemingly innocent social exchange was what amounted to, if not the actual drawing of swords, a certain hand-on-the-scabbard warning—when neither one of them had any right whatsoever to draw territorial boundaries where she was concerned.

“Rick, would you open the door for us?” Hannah said, managing to pass him her keys. He opened the door, and, still limping, Ernie took Petey inside, pausing long enough to let her get her packages from Hannah before he carried her into the kitchen. “Be sure you show him the refrigerator, Petey,” Hannah called after them, her eyes meeting Ernie’s in a look she couldn’t read as he discreetly closed the door.

“So what’s going on?” Rick said immediately.

“A lot,” she answered. “And then some.” She sat down on the sofa and tried to massage into oblivion the headache she’d picked up somewhere along the way. Lord, what she’d give for a nap. She suddenly smiled, hearing Petey in the kitchen explaining something about green vegetables.

“Well?” Rick said after a moment. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

She looked at him sharply. He was using that tone of voice again.

“My sister left her little girl, Petey, with Ernie—”

“Ernie who?”

“John Ernest Watson, the man you just met!” Hannah snapped because her head hurt and because he was venting his annoyance by pretending to be obtuse. He was a talk show host; he wasn’t
that
dense. “Ernie brought Petey to me. Neither of us has any idea where Elizabeth is or when she’s coming back or what this is all about. None.” She glanced at him. He seemed to be waiting for the punch line.

“Oh,” he said when she didn’t go on. “So how long have you known this … Ernie?”

“Eighteen hours,” she said evenly.

He smiled and tugged at a strand of her hair. “Want to go someplace tonight?”

“I can’t.” She wondered if he’d been listening at all.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a baby-sitter,” she said, realizing for the first time, after years of hearing her friends and co-workers say those very same words, what an impact they had.

“You mean the kid’s staying here?” he said incredulously.

“Yes, of course she’s staying here. What did you think—”

“For how long?” he interrupted.

“Rick, I don’t know. I just told you: Elizabeth’s gone.”

“And you’re going to keep her daughter until she comes back? Hannah, there are agencies that take care of this sort of thing.”

“Just what kind of agency did you have in mind, Rick? The pound?”

“The Department of Social Services, for openers. Hannah, you can’t keep her.”

“Why can’t I? I’m her aunt.”

“Have you got her birth certificate and immunization records?” he interrupted again, his annoyance showing now.

“No. What has that got to do with anything?”

“Well, if you want her in good day care—and I assume you do—you have to prove how old she is, you need proof that she’s been immunized. If she hasn’t got any records, she’ll have to have all the shots over again, and she can’t have them unless her parent or guardian gives permission. You aren’t her parent or her guardian. You see the problem? And what if she gets sick or hurt? You can’t give permission for anything she might need. How are you going to work unless you can get her into day care? You might find a private individual to keep her, but that’s expensive. You took a big pay cut when you came to
KHRB
.”

“How do you know so much about this?” she said, feeling like the half-wit Ernie thought she was. She hadn’t considered any of these things.

“On
People’s Eye
I do something about child care almost every week. You’ll have to have her declared a ward of the court and then file a petition for guardianship—”

“I’m not going to do that!”

“Well, what else can you do, Hannah? Who’s going to keep her for you?”

“I am,” Ernie said from the doorway, and his frown told Hannah he’d been listening for quite a while. “I’m supposed to stay away from bull chasing for ten days,” he said to Hannah. “I was planning to hang around Dallas anyway. I’ll keep Petey for you.”

“You can’t do that,” Hannah said, because she knew he didn’t want to, and he certainly didn’t have to.

“Sure I can. You know she’d be all right with me.”

“I know, but—”

“I don’t see there’s much choice, Hannah—with the mess Libby’s left you in. I can do it for ten days or so. That’ll give you time to decide what to do if Libby’s not back by then.” His eyes held hers. Kind eyes, understanding eyes, eyes that made her want to do something silly like cry or fall at his feet in gratitude and hug his knees—knee.

“Ernie, I don’t know what to say.” She was telling the truth. She didn’t. And she couldn’t keep from looking at him, all of him. He smiled—not the mischievous smile she’d been getting, but one that was gentle and a little shy. She was seeing the real John Ernest Watson at that moment, she thought, not the hell-raising womanizer Elizabeth had described, not the rodeo clown, and not the rascal who blithely took his pants off in strange women’s bathrooms.

“Well, now, this is cozy,” Rick said, his talk-show-host sarcasm intact.

“What this is,” Ernie said quietly, “is none of your business.”

“Yeah, right,” Rick said. “None of my business. You keep the kid for Hannah, and she’ll take your pants off for you.”

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you.”

“Oh, please,” Rick said, holding up both hands. “Spare me the Gene Autry Cowboy Code of Honor fisticuffs.” He got up and headed for the door. “Hannah? It’s been fun. Be seeing you around.”

“Rick—” Hannah protested, but he didn’t stop, slamming the door hard on his way out.

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE SILENCE IN
the room grew long and heavy, broken only by the sound of the rain against the windows and Petey’s singsong rendition of “Honky Tonk Man” in the kitchen. Hannah tried to smile, knowing she wouldn’t have to look far to discover just who had taught it to her. Her beloved Ernie, who was probably just like the man in the song, devoted to drinking and gambling and wild women, and begging to come home to the poor woman who loved him, only when his money ran out.

Lord, she shouldn’t be feeling the things she was feeling about him, much less considering his offer of child care! He was watching her closely, as if he expected her to cry over Rick’s dramatic departure. But Rick was the last thing on her mind, and damn it all, what choice did she have?

She finally looked up at him. He was standing with his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets and his hat shoved to the back of his head. He hobbled over to the couch and sat down beside her—not such a good idea since he couldn’t do it without stressing his injured knee. Hannah instinctively put her hand on his bare forearm to steady him, and that wasn’t such a good idea, either. She was perfectly aware she had no business touching him and the feel of his warm, muscular arm beneath her fingers was nearly her undoing. She quickly took her hand away.

If I just stay away from him, it’ll be all right
, she promised herself. She even halfway believed it. Anyway, it was just for a day or two, until she could think of something else. “Ernie—”

“You okay?” he interrupted, his voice as gentle with her as it had been with Petey when she’d had her nightmare.

“Ernie—”

“I’m … sorry about your boyfriend, Hannah. I could talk to him if you want, explain to him how you happened to take my pants off.”

“Ernie—”

“I don’t think he’ll stay mad long, Hannah. And you can’t blame him. When a man thinks his woman is taking off somebody else’s pants—”

“Ernie!”

“What?” he said finally, his face breaking into a grin.

“Could you take care of Petey now? I’ve got to finish some scripts for a furniture-outlet commercial, and I have to monitor an adult reading class at the library. It’s part of a KHRB public service project, and those people will be waiting for me. I
have
to be there.” She was uncomfortable enough to be rattled, television background or not, but he’d made the offer, and she
needed
him, God help her, no matter how dangerous he was.

He smiled, but he was looking at her curiously. “You’re not one to cry over spilt milk, are you?”

“No, and I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, either. Rick is … upset, because he’d rather be upset than have to deal with a woman who has a problem. Can you take care of Petey for me now or not?”

“You got it, Miss Hannah. We’ll stay out of your way until you get what you need to do finished.”

“There’s just one thing—”

“I’ve been on the wagon for twenty-two months and ten days, Hannah. If the time comes when I think I can’t make it any longer, I’ll bring Petey to you,” he said, anticipating her question and looking her in the eye. “And I’ve got to say just one thing of my own.”

“What?”

“I’ll look after Petey so you can work, but that’s all. I’m not taking her off your hands so you can run around with Roderick.”

“Frederick,” Hannah corrected. “And I don’t
run around
—with him or anybody else.”

“Just so we understand each other.”

“Oh, I think we understand each other,” Hannah said. Neither of them wanted any more trouble.

“Now, why does that make you mad?”

“It doesn’t,” she lied, and she was careful not to make eye contact. The comment did make her angry, because he assumed she was like Elizabeth. She wasn’t. She was herself. And it was disturbing to her how much she wanted him to know it. “I’ll check around so I’ll know how much to pay you—”

“Now, that’s another thing,” he interrupted. “It’s not going to do for us to keep offering each other money. It’s kind of crazy when you think about it—when two people are as poor as we are.”

She tried not to smile, but didn’t quite make it. “I’ll pay you,” she said firmly when she had her face under control. It was the only way she could justify doing this. She glanced at him. He was looking at her—a bit tolerantly, she thought. The same sort of look he might give Petey when her ambitions exceeded her capabilities. Well, she meant what she said. She might have to pay him in installments, but she would pay him.

“Miss Hannah, what am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing,” she said shortly, getting up from the couch.

“How about a little help,” Ernie said, holding out his hand to her.

She hesitated, knowing she’d have to take both his hands to get him standing. Her small hands were lost in the warm roughness of his big ones, and the contact only served to verify what she already knew: She must be out of her mind. This infatuation of hers was going to give her nothing but grief, and Lord knew, she already had enough of that.

Ernie was as good as his word, keeping Petey in the living room watching television while Hannah worked diligently at the kitchen table. Her mind kept wandering as she listened to their conversation. He really was good with Petey—firm, but kind. She couldn’t keep from smiling at the enthusiasm with which the two of them watched a
Dukes of Hazzard
rerun. It was hard to tell sometimes which sound effects came with the show and which were supplied by Ernie and Petey. She left for the library at seven, surprised that she would really rather have stayed and watched sitcom reruns with her niece and her impromptu baby-sitter. It was well after nine when she returned. She came back to an empty apartment, fighting the panic until she found a note telling her that they had taken her extra door key and gone to McDonald’s for milk shakes. She went to work again at the kitchen table, hearing them when they returned. But they didn’t seem to require anything from her, and she forced herself to keep working, finishing the scripts shortly before midnight. She was satisfied with the result, but God, she was tired. She looked up to find Ernie standing in the kitchen doorway.