WHY THE HELL did he make that offer?
He hadn’t meant to. It was the worst possible thing he could do.
The more he saw of her, the more he liked her. Was attracted to her. And this was definitely one relationship that couldn’t go far. They were on completely different roads in their lives and going in opposite directions.
But when her body had fit so neatly into his while dancing, and he’d looked down at those expressive dark eyes, he felt a need he’d never experienced before. The problem was that it wasn’t just physical; it was something even stronger, more irresistible.
Even more confounding was that he saw it in her eyes, as well.
As much as he tried to tell himself to run like hell, he couldn’t. His good sense surrendered to stronger emotions, and he suggested driving her home. He was surprised when she’d agreed, although it made sense. The Mannings lived in a different direction.
It was only a short ride to her house. No danger here.
But once in the car, he realized he was wrong. He had been very aware of the flowery fragrance of her hair when they danced but now, inside his car, it was intoxicating—or maybe it was Lisa herself. Her smile was dazzling.
He counted the reasons he should drive her straight home, accompany her to the door and say good night in a calm, impersonal way.
He reached seven before he asked, “Would you like to see the bench Gordon built?”
She hesitated. She was probably counting the reasons she should say no. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “Yes.”
He changed direction and drove toward the cabin. It was past ten, and he’d learned that little stirred after ten in Covenant Falls. The community center’s lights were off. There were no cars in the parking lot. Most of the lights in the cottages lining Lake Road were off.
It was a dark night, too. Clouds blacked out the moon. The breeze had freshened and it was cooler than any night since he’d been in Covenant Falls. Jubal knew a storm was brewing. He parked on the road and faced the headlights toward the deck. Then he left the car and hurried around to her side. She’d opened the door and had one foot out when he reached her.
He stretched out his hand. She hesitated, then took it. It seemed natural. Even right. His fingers closed around hers and he led her out on the dock to the bench.
It was large enough for two adults.
“Should I try it?” she asked skeptically.
“I did.”
She sat gingerly, then leaned against the slanted back. “It’s comfortable.”
He sat down next to her. “Your brother picked out the design and the wood and built it entirely on his own. I didn’t say a word.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?” he replied, though he knew exactly what she meant. He should tell her the truth right now if he wanted any kind of relationship with her, even a brief one.
“He just came to you, and you said you wanted a bench built?”
“Something like that,” he said. The kid did come to his cabin, and he did say he wanted a bench. But he was leaving a lot out.
“Why didn’t you build it? You don’t look like the sedentary type who’d sit there and watch someone else work,” she observed with humor in her voice.
“He needed a job. I didn’t.”
She eyed him suspiciously. He realized she felt something didn’t ring quite true but she couldn’t quite figure out what. Had he shown too much pride in what Gordon had accomplished?
To his relief, she changed the subject. “Do you really swim in the lake every day? I hear it’s freezing.”
“Ah, the Covenant Falls rumor factory,” he said dryly. “But yes, I do. It wakes me up.”
“I could think of easier ways. Like a cup of hot coffee.”
“I want to know I can still do it,” he replied honestly. “It makes me feel alive. Wakens all my senses.”
“And you need to feel alive?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Maybe not to the extreme of swimming in an ice cold lake every night.”
He stood and looked out at the lake. She was far too intuitive. But his captivity wasn’t something he could talk about.
She was silent for a moment, then asked the question that apparently had been bothering her. “If you are just going to stay a short while, why did you hire a kid you didn’t know and turn him loose on something you probably won’t use?”
He shrugged. “Do you know about this cabin?” he asked.
“A little.”
“I’m the fourth vet to use it. Everyone has left it, or the town, a little better. Clint repaired and extended the dock. The bench was my contribution, small as it may be.”
She looked at him, and he thought she wasn’t completely satisfied, but she nodded. “So what comes next?”
“My plan was to stay a few days.”
“It’s been more than a week,” she observed.
“I’ve sorta become involved in a few things,” he said.
“You’re staying for a while, then?”
“Yeah,” he said. “A while.”
“Gordon likes you.”
An uncomfortable comment. And Jubal had no answer without deepening the lie or betraying Gordon.
“I’ve tried and tried to get through to him and you’ve done it in a few days,” Lisa continued. “How did you do that?” He heard pain in her question.
He shrugged. “I don’t know if I have. I just gave him a temporary job.”
“He said you were working for a rancher, that he wanted to learn to ride there.” She was direct. And a damn good interrogator. The military could use her.
He shrugged. “I told him he would have to ask you.”
Her tone softened. “Thank you for helping him. I didn’t mean to question you. I’ve just been worried...”
“I wouldn’t hurt him.”
“You won’t be here long,” she said frankly. “I don’t want him to lose someone else.” She hesitated, then said slowly, “You know our father died when he was young?”
Jubal wasn’t going to lie about that. He nodded.
“I thought you might, that he may have told you,” she said. “He was so proud when he came home today. He was tired and his clothes were a mess but there was a light in his eyes that’s been missing.”
She hesitated, then slowly, cautiously, continued. “After Dad died, Gordon tried to become the man of the house. He looked after Kerry and our mother, or at least Mom let him think he did. Then she got sick, too. Cancer. And I wasn’t there. I was in my residency. It was what Mom wanted, but I should’ve returned home. Put it off. I didn’t. Our aunt came to help out.
“Mom got worse, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Gordon blamed me for not being there, for not saving her, for doctors not saving her...”
He felt the pain in her. It ran deep and wide. How many times had he felt guilt when he couldn’t save one of his team? He still felt it. He probably would feel it until the day he died. He would see a smile and think of Scott, or hear raucous laughter and be back with Hound Dog...
“You lost both parents, too,” he said.
“But I was an adult. I didn’t spend my teen years looking after a dying mother.”
“I can’t imagine how tough it was,” Jubal said. “But he’s a very bright kid.”
“When he wants to be,” she replied. “But after Mom died, his grades dropped dramatically. He got involved with some gang members in Chicago. He was trying to get some kind of control over his life, and he thought they were offering it. I hoped getting him away from the city would help, but he doesn’t trust me.”
“He probably thinks you’ll leave him, too. He’s afraid to care.”
She looked at him and her face softened. “You know about that, don’t you?”
Had he been so obvious?
A drop of rain fell. Then another. Then the sky seemed to open and rain poured down. Not just a few drops. A deluge. He grabbed her hand and they ran for the car as the sky opened. Once inside, she started to laugh and a chuckle started deep inside him. Then he leaned toward her. His fingers touched her cheek and wiped the drops away.
“Coffee?” he asked. “Until it stops raining quite as hard?”
She hesitated. “I should get home and check on Kerry and Gordon.”
He didn’t say anything. Waited. He wasn’t sure what he wanted her answer to be.
“Maybe a quick one,” she agreed.
He nodded, turned on the ignition and eased the car into the driveway, getting as close to the porch as possible. He then reached in the backseat and pulled out a jean jacket.
“Here,” he said. “Put it over your head and we’ll make a run for it.”
He saw her glance at her shoes and the now muddy ground outside. “Stay there,” he ordered. He got out of the car and went to her side. He opened the door, put the jacket on her, then without saying anything picked her up and carried her to the porch before setting her down.
They were both dripping as he opened the door. “I’ll get some towels,” he said, “then make that coffee...”
* * *
THE RAIN HAD come so fast and hard Lisa was soaking wet all over.
She wiped the wetness off her face and arms and looked around. The room looked comfortable, more than comfortable, and it was military clean and tidy. The only item out of place was a book on the floor next to a big easy chair.
She went over and looked at it. Ranching in Colorado. Not what she expected. But then what had she expected? Murder? Action adventure? Why did she want to pigeonhole him? Because it would be easier to dismiss him as just a big macho guy?
She went to a wall of windows and looked out. The rain was still coming down. Hard. She should be home. She was stunned at herself. Not only for letting him carry her inside—not that she had had a choice—but for agreeing to stay.
For coffee only. Truth was, though, that she hadn’t wanted to leave, either. There had been something about him when he spoke of Gordon, a wistfulness that made her think he really cared about her brother. He’d wanted to show her the bench. There’d been pride in his praise of it. He seemed to understand her brother better than she did.
Jubal returned to the room wearing a dry shirt and jeans and carrying a large towel and blue shirt with him. He wrapped it around her. “Want to change? I can put your blouse in the dryer. It won’t take long.”
She mentally added efficient to the number of qualities she was admiring in him today.
She looked at the shirt. It was large and long, a soft cotton. But it meant staying at least thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. No.
She nodded.
He handed her the shirt. “There are more clean towels in the bathroom. Down the hall and to the left. I’ll start the coffee.”
Lisa thanked him and headed to the bathroom. It was as neat as the rest of the cabin. Everything in its proper place. There was a big towel neatly folded on the counter. She wiped the rain from her face, then tried to dry her hair. It was falling from the neat twist and she tried to repair it as best she could before giving up. She wanted to touch up her lipstick, but then remembered her purse was still in the car. Along with her shoes.
She took off her blouse and put on the big cotton shirt. It was clearly well-worn.
Soft. Clean, but it had a masculine scent to it. She looked at herself in the mirror. The shirt reached halfway down the skirt. She was barefoot. Not one of her best looks.
She went into the other room and Jubal met her with a steaming cup of coffee. He’d started a fire in the fireplace that was licking the edge of a log. “Thirty minutes and your blouse will be dry. Okay?”
His dark hair was damp and crinkly and his jaw already had the slightest hint of a beard. He looked rugged and competent, which was extremely appealing. Yet, their earlier conversation had revealed a vulnerability she hadn’t expected.
“Thank you,” she said as she accepted the coffee.
“You’re welcome,” he replied solemnly, but she thought she detected a smile in his eyes.
“Not just for the coffee. Not only.”
He gave her an inquisitive look. “Then what?”
“I’ve never been carried before.”
“Someone’s been missing out,” he said with a crooked smile that went beyond charming, maybe because she couldn’t remember seeing a real smile on his face before. Polite ones, yes. But a spontaneous one? No. Way.
It was the latter that made her senses go crazy. She could resist macho alone. She was discovering she couldn’t resist macho mixed with the other qualities she found in him.
He’d accomplished something she hadn’t. Gordon hadn’t slouched into the house this afternoon. He’d even agreed to stay home with Kerry. He was changing for the better.
But those things didn’t address her two main concerns with a friendship between Jubal and her brother. Jubal had made it clear he was just passing through, and she was even more worried that he might inspire Gordon to go into the service.
She had to address the latter.
“Gordon’s talked about joining the army,” she said slowly.
“That would be a bad thing?”
“I’ve seen the scars on you,” she said, then swallowed hard. “A college classmate of mine was killed in Afghanistan. I don’t want Gordon anywhere near war. I’ve lost too many members of my family already.”
“He’s asked a few questions. I haven’t encouraged him, nor will I.”
“He likes you. You’re a hero to him. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you two...”
There. She’d said it. Almost.
But he understood. She saw it in his face, the way it tightened. He nodded. “You want me to stay away from him.”
“Or maybe discourage him from—”
“Should I distance myself from you, too?” His voice was suddenly cool.
She couldn’t answer that. She should. He was going to be here a short time. She was returning to Chicago in less than a year, even if he stayed. They had nothing in common. There was no future, and she was a forever type of woman. But she couldn’t say the words.
He led her over to the sofa and she felt herself stiffening even as she sat next to him. Next to the sexiest man she’d ever met and he was looking at her with the most penetrating and striking blue eyes she’d ever seen. But suddenly there was a huge chasm between them.
“How does it feel living in a small town after Chicago?” His voice was controlled, with none of the teasing she’d heard earlier. It was almost as if a big stop sign had been constructed. To her dismay, she wanted to tear it down. She felt a deep loss and she knew it was her fault. Small talk was agonizing now.
“I like it more than I thought I would,” she said, trying to keep her voice impersonal even as she wanted to take her earlier words back.
She desperately wanted to leave but her blouse hadn’t had time to dry. She tried to keep her voice steady as she replied, “I like having more time with patients and getting to know them. I like not having to worry about Kerry and Gordon getting mixed up with bad kids.”
“There are bad kids in small towns, too,” he said.
“Yes, but at least everyone knows who they are.”
“Why medicine?” he asked, swiftly changing topics. He was obviously trying to relax her.
“I never wanted to do anything else,” she said. “I used to request nurse and doctor toys for Christmas. I didn’t want dolls except to use as patients. I always liked the hospital dramas growing up. I thought it was neat to make people well. And I love kids. I was planning to specialize in pediatric surgery.”
“Was?”
“I was just about to start a fellowship when Gordon...” She stopped. It wasn’t a story she wanted to share.
He sipped his coffee. She thought he’d press further, but then he may have already sensed the reason.
He reached over and took her hand, his fingers entwining with hers. His hand was warm and she responded by curling her fingers around his. It seemed so natural...so right.
“You’ve had a lot to shoulder these past few years, haven’t you?”
“So have Gordon and Kerry. I want them to be kids again and I’m so afraid they’ve lost some of their best years to grief.”
“And what about Lisa?” he asked. “Hasn’t she missed a lot, too? Hasn’t she lost parents, too? When is the last time you’ve had a day just for yourself? When you haven’t worried about your family or a patient? When you haven’t tried to meet everyone’s expectations of you?”
Lisa was stunned. He didn’t try to tell her it would be all right. Or that she’d made the right decision or was making one now. He seemed completely nonjudgmental and accepting. The sensitivity belied every conception she had about soldiers.
His hand let hers go and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The fire was glowing now, the flames just beginning to snap.
He felt so good next to her. “Tell me about you,” she said. “You haven’t said much about your family.”
There was a silence. “You know some of it. Not much more to tell,” he said. “The day after my grandfather lost the family ranch, he shot himself. My grandmother had died several years earlier from pneumonia.
“My dad was eighteen when he lost his father. No money for college, but he didn’t want that. He was a cowboy through and through. He started on the rodeo circuit. He wouldn’t ride bulls. But he rode broncs. They were just as wild and ill-tempered as the bulls, but most didn’t try to kill you like the bulls would.”
Jubal’s arm tightened around her and she felt the tension in him. “He was twenty-one when he met my mother. She attended a rodeo visiting a cousin. It was love at first sight, at least for my father. I think it was more rebellion on my mother’s part. Anyway, they eloped and I came pretty fast after that.
“They traveled from rodeo to rodeo,” Jubal continued. “I grew up in a trailer, and my best friend was Dad’s horse, Dusty. Dad taught me to ride. I thought he was the best rider ever, although he never won a championship. He earned just enough money to take us to the next rodeo.”
Lisa was transfixed by the story. His voice had deepened and his eyes were indecipherable. “When I turned seven, my mother had had enough. The big money pot was always around the corner. She packed us up and headed to her family’s home in Maryland. My dad was killed by a bronc a year later.”
Lisa understood a lot then, although she knew there was still much left unsaid. She could tell from his voice that he’d idolized his father and yet she sympathized with the mother.
She knew now why he related to Gordon. They had both lost fathers at a young age and it left marks on both of them. Similar to how Gordon partly blamed her for their mother’s death, Jubal had obviously blamed his mother.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Then because she had to know, she asked an intrusive question. “Did you forgive your mother?”
“A kid doesn’t understand, so it’s hard to forgive,” he said. “Maybe I would have if she hadn’t married someone who disliked me on sight. We were at war until the day I graduated from high school and joined the navy. My mother died three years later.”
She touched his face. It was so strong. Too strong to be handsome. But there was a vulnerability there, too. She heard hurt and regret in his voice even if he hadn’t admitted to it.
“I should go,” she said, afraid to stay longer.
“Yeah, I guess you probably should.”
He stood and his hand pulled her up, too. He ran his fingers along her cheek, then he leaned down and kissed her lightly.
“You’re very pretty,” he said after.
She flushed. She’d never felt pretty. She’d never been wildly popular. Her only friends in high school and college were mostly nerds like her, and then in med school she was too busy with her studies and family to pay much attention to her appearance.
“I’ll get your blouse,” he said, apparently feeling her discomfort.
Jubal was back a minute later with her blouse. It was supposed to be wash and wear, but it was still damp and wrinkled. She took it to the bedroom and reluctantly exchanged his soft shirt for her blouse. Her hair was a disaster, and she tried to tuck in tendrils that had fallen from the twist.
She truly hoped no one would be awake when she reached home. She glanced at her watch. Eleven-forty. Almost pumpkin time.
And she’d had her kiss, albeit a light and friendly one. Exactly what she’d originally wanted—to not get too involved.
So why did she feel so disappointed?
He was waiting at the door, her shoes in his hand. “I got your shoes,” he said. “The rain stopped,” he said lightly. How could he be so casual when her heart was still pounding hard? “A typical late-summer storm.”
She stepped into her shoes and they walked out on the porch. A small piece of the moon was visible between clouds. The air was fresh, washed clean by the rain.
He took her hand and lifted her again to carry her over the mud. He did it so effortlessly she felt light as a feather. When she was in the seat, he leaned over. “Just to let you know, I was really tempted to turn that kiss into a world-class winner, but I didn’t want to scare you away.”
She was speechless when he stepped into the driver’s seat. “You’re not staying here long,” she reminded him.
“Nope,” he replied, and started driving, leaving her to ponder about that world-class winner kiss she’d missed.