Tate groaned and gave up one of his checkers, clunking the piece down with feigned annoyance. “You’re cheating again, old-timer,” he said with affection to the man sitting across from him.
Every Tuesday at noon, rain or shine, Tate attended a Chamber of Commerce meeting in the conference room of Blackwood Community Center, then moseyed over to the Senior Room for a game of checkers or dominoes. Today former sheriff Bert Atkins, his friend and mentor, was beating the pants off him.
“Ha! Don’t need to cheat when you play this bad.” The older man chortled happily and popped another peppermint in his mouth—his crutch to avoid smoking. “You must be working on a case the way your mind is off somewhere. Anything I can help you with?”
Bert Atkins had served Seminole County as sheriff until his second heart attack had forced him to retire, but his mind was as sharp as ever. With uncanny accuracy, he always knew when Tate was struggling with a problem.
Tate was, in fact, working on a suspected chop-shop operation, though that wasn’t where his mind had been. He hadn’t quite pinned down the source yet, but if he was right, the kingpin was a well-respected citizen. Bringing him down would be neither easy nor popular. And this was an election year.
After frowning at the board for a moment he moved his black king, jumping two of Bert’s men. “Guess my mind isn’t as scattered as you thought.”
But to be honest, his mind was scattered. Julee Reynolds was driving him crazy. Since he’d found her slumped outside his door two days ago, looking like her dog had died, Tate had thought of little else. Having her name and the bone-marrow drive on the lips of every Blackwood citizen didn’t help much and he was feeling like the county jerk instead of the county sheriff because he didn’t want any part of either.
Bert slapped the table, sending the checkers into a quiver. “Gol’ dern it, boy. I’m gonna have to study on this next move.” He shoved a plastic bag in Tate’s direction. “Here. Have a peppermint while I think.”
Obliging, Tate removed the crinkling cellophane and welcomed the candy’s cool sweetness. While Bert studied, his snow-white head bent over the board, Tate looked around at the group gathered in the Senior Room. A half dozen men played various games at other tables. He’d worked hard to gain the respect of this town, and in return the citizens of Blackwood had been good to him. He was happy, content. Or at least he had been until Julianna Reynolds blazed into town and reminded him of the hole inside his chest.
At the far end of the long room a group of ladies chatted and crocheted around a sofa grouping. One of them looked up, caught his eye and waved. He knew by the way she elbowed her companion that the unattached sheriff of Seminole County had just become the topic of conversation.
With an inward groan, he waited. Who would it be this time? The new librarian? Or maybe Mary’s recently divorced granddaughter? The ladies of Blackwood found his lack of a love life intensely interesting and seemed determined to remedy the problem by throwing unattached females in his path.
Sure enough, before Bert had a chance to claim any more of Tate’s checkers, Mildred Perkins laid aside a long rectangle of pink fluff and headed in his direction. The busiest body in town, Mildred considered finding him a wife her sworn duty. They didn’t understand what he couldn’t tell them—he’d failed at love twice, and that was enough. He was good at a lot of things, but love wasn’t one of them.
“Sheriff,” Mildred began, fingering the eyeglasses that hung from a beaded chain around her neck.
“Mrs. Perkins,” he acknowledged politely. “How are you and the Crochet Club today?”
“Oh, we’ve nearly finished that blanket for Cindy’s new grandbaby. Which is what I wanted to see you about.” She twisted the chain into a knot. “Not the baby exactly, but Cindy. Did you see the newspaper today? Cindy was right on the front page. Right there with Julianna Reynolds.”
She said Julee’s name with such relish Tate flinched.
He’d nearly swallowed a doughnut whole this morning when Rita had stuck the paper under his nose, berating him for not taking a more active part in Julee’s charity blood drive. There was Julee, smiling fit to kill as she signed up folks for the big donor drive.
“Yes, ma’am. I saw that. Cindy looked mighty nice.”
“Cindy?” Mildred’s piercing voice shot up a notch. “Cindy? Land o’ goshen, Sheriff, I’m not talking about Cindy. I’m talking about Julianna coming back to Black-wood to help cancer victims. Isn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, keeping a bland expression while hoping Mildred wasn’t about to set him up with Julee. “Real nice of her.”
“Did you know the car dealership is having a drawing? The winner gets to drive a new car free for a whole month?”
“I’d heard that.” Who hadn’t? In two days time, Julee had turned the entire town upside down. The radio station blasted a reminder of the bone-marrow drive every fifteen minutes, the newspaper couldn’t seem to print enough rosy articles about the small-town girl who made good, and everywhere he went somebody reminded him of how sweet and perfect and single Julianna was. To hear them talk she was a cross between Mother Teresa and Sandra Bullock.
“Well?” Mildred crossed her arms over the huge red flower decorating her shirtfront and fixed him with a questioning stare.
He pinched his lips between thumb and forefinger and arched his eyebrows. Had he missed something?
“I didn’t see your name on the list of civic leaders who’ve signed up to donate.”
Tate sighed inwardly, guilt warming the back of his neck. He fiddled with a checker, sliding it back and forth along the edge of the board. “I didn’t see yours, either.”
“You gotta be under sixty,” she huffed impatiently. “And Lord knows I passed that a long time ago. You’re young and fit as a fiddle so you got no excuse not to help out those poor little suffering children.”
The guilt of worrying about those “poor little children” was eating a hole right through the smothered steak he’d had for lunch. “Needles make me nervous.”
Mildred laughed and patted his arm. “Oh, Sheriff, you big tease. I know you’ll do your part. Just have Julianna hold your hand while they poke you.” She beamed at the genius of her suggestion. “And afterward, the two of you can come over to the Bingo Game together.”
Bert clunked down another checker, taking one of Tate’s. “Mildred, you’re interfering with my concentration. Why don’t you be useful and go get me a cup of coffee?”
While Tate silently thanked his old friend for the change of subject, Mildred drew back like a hissing adder. “Bert Atkins, you go get your own coffee.”
With a huff, she flounced back to the circle of crocheting ladies who’d been acutely attentive during the brief exchange. Six smiles beamed their goodwill across the room. Mildred’s mouth moved non-stop while she looked at Tate with an expression that said she was certain—absolutely certain—he wouldn’t let her, or Julianna, down.
Sometimes Tate didn’t know whether to hug them or hate them. Dear sweet ladies who meant well, but somehow thought he needed their input in every facet of his life. Not that he didn’t appreciate their casseroles and pies and crocheted afghans. He did. But right now, the last thing he needed was another reminder of the woman he’d never been able to forget.
“Why not donate blood, Tate?” A checker in one hand, Bert paused. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Tate wallowed the peppermint with his tongue and pretended to study the checkers. “My deputies are helping out. I’m too busy to get wound up in Julee’s celebrity tax write-off.”
“Tax write-off or not, it’s a good cause. Just because you and Julee were an item way back when is no reason to avoid her now. Unless you still have feelings for her.”
Tate blanched at the plain speaking. Feelings? Heck, yes, he still had feelings for her. Trouble was, his feelings were all mixed up—fear, mistrust and a longing so fierce he’d been tormented all last night with dreams of Julee. He’d awakened in such a sweat he’d gotten up at 3:00 a.m. to take a shower. A cold one.
“As far as I’m concerned I’ll be glad to see her gone.”
“Question is, why?” Bert pointed a checker at him. “Shelly always said you never got over Julee.”
How could he explain that avoiding Julee was a matter of self-preservation? Learning to live without her ten years ago had nearly killed him, an experience he couldn’t afford to repeat.
“I wasn’t the right man for Shelly,” he said, skirting the issue of Julee. “You know it and so does she.” His brief and disastrous marriage to Bert’s daughter had been the final chapter in his book of love. Never again.
“A man can’t work 24-7 and keep a woman happy, that’s for sure.”
“Running a sheriff’s office is a full-time job. If anyone understands that, it’s you.”
“Being a good sheriff’s one thing, but I don’t recall ever sleeping in my office. You let this town run you ragged.”
“I owe them, Bert. Just like I owe you.”
The old sheriff had seen something worth saving in the rebellious youth, though for the life of him Tate couldn’t imagine what it had been.
“You don’t owe me a blamed thing. This county needed a good sheriff and we were danged lucky to get you.”
“Still, I wish things could have been different for Shelly’s sake.”
“I know that, boy. That’s why I got no hard feelings.” Bert smiled and reached for another peppermint. “That and the fact that Shelly found a nine-to-five fellow and had me some grandbabies.”
“She deserved a better man than me.”
He’d married Shelly out of gratitude, like a groveling dog happy to have a pat on the head. She’d made him feel like a man again during those dark days when he’d cared more about killing himself with liquor and fighting than living, so he’d repaid her kindness by messing up her life. And the remorse he felt for disappointing his mentor, the only man who’d ever believed in him, would never go away.
He shook his head to clear the memory. As a rabble-rousing teenager he’d been called worthless trailer trash. Now he hid behind a clean uniform and a sheriff’s badge, but deep down he figured the cruel taunt was still true.
Pushing back from the table, he looked at his wristwatch. “Time to get back to work before the good citizens of Blackwood change their minds about me.”
“Don’t want to talk about Julee, huh?” Bert looked at him with a half smile.
“Nothing to talk about.” He reached down to rub his knee. Thinking about Julee stirred up all his old aches and pains, some of them higher up than his knee. “She zoomed in here like a mosquito. Once she’s zapped everyone’s blood, she’ll zoom right back out. The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”
As he started to rise, the hospital administrator tapped in on low-heeled pumps to tack a huge poster on the bulletin board. Tate lifted a hand in greeting, then let it fall to the table, sinking back into his chair. A photo of Julee and her famous legs stared out at him below a caption announcing the bone-marrow drive. And if that wasn’t enough to make him swallow the peppermint whole, the celebrity herself swept into the center, long, glorious legs drawing the stares of everyone in the place.
Julianna’s heart took one giant leap from her chest to her throat. Tate, looking too handsome to be real, scowled at her from across a checkerboard. For the hundredth time since the meeting at his office, she asked herself why he disliked her so much. He’d been the one to betray her and find someone else in a painfully short amount of time. She’d known then that his love had not run as deep as he’d claimed.
Julee remembered the morning she’d left Blackwood like yesterday. Tate, wearing his high-school letter jacket, long black hair slicked into a ponytail, leaned his backside against a beat-up old Ford pickup, pulled her between the V of his legs and held her until the bus arrived.
She couldn’t recall much of anything they’d said, just the feel of his rock-hard arms holding her close, the wool and leather scent of his jacket, and the warmth of his breath on her hair. The heavy ache of parting hung in the air between them. When the bus arrived, air brakes ripping the quiet morning, she’d started to cry. The Oklahoma wind had whipped her long hair around her face. Tate had smoothed it back, then cradled her face in his hands and brushed away the tears.
“Promise you’ll come back,” he whispered fiercely. “Promise.”
Since the day she’d received the call from the Body Parts Agency in California, he’d agreed she had to go. He knew how badly she and her widowed mother needed the money this contract promised. No matter how much she loved Tate, this was a chance in a lifetime she had to take.
“I’ll be back. I promise.”
But the tormented look in his green eyes said he was just as scared as she was.
Heart breaking, she’d almost backed out, almost decided not to go when he pushed her up the steps.
“Go.” He shoved twenty dollars in her hand and stepped back. “They’re gonna love you out there.”
As the double doors folded inward, he pressed two fingers to his lips and laid them on the window. She’d held his eyes, frantically mouthing “I love you, I love you,” until the bus rumbled away and he was lost in the smoke and fumes. Hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, he’d stared back at her with a stark, broken expression. She’d cried all the way to L.A., fearing that last kiss was his final farewell.
It had been. Regardless of his promise to wait, he’d found someone else and married before she’d even discovered she was pregnant with his child. So much for his promises of undying love. He’d moved on with his life and eventually so had she. So, why was he staring at her now as though she was a hair in his hamburger?
Self-conscious beneath his scrutiny, she smoothed both hands down the sides of her powder-blue sheath. Though she’d intentionally dressed to appear successful and confident, she felt as gawky and insecure as she had in high school, the skinny girl who was all legs.
To make matters worse, the hospital administrator, who was nearly as excited about the bone-marrow drive as she, drew the attention of everyone in the room. “Look, Julianna,” she squealed. “There’s the man you need.”
Julee cringed. Oh, she needed him all right, though she prayed he’d never find out just how much. Reluctantly, she left the woman’s side and moved in Tate’s direction. Since the disastrous meeting in his office, she’d steered clear, hoping public pressure would convince him to donate after she couldn’t do the job. Now, time was growing short. She had to be certain he would be in town that day. If worse came to worst, she’d do the unthinkable. Against her mother’s advice and at the risk of causing trouble for Tate and his wife, she’d tell him about Megan.
Approaching the table she recognized Bert Atkins, the man who’d been sheriff in her high-school days. Since arriving in Blackwood she’d renewed a number of old acquaintances, and though she didn’t want to be here, had never planned to return, she was surprised to feel an unexpected nostalgia for her hometown.
“Hello, Mr. Atkins,” she said cordially, training her eyes on him instead of Tate. Even then, she could imagine the heat of disapproval simmering from the county sheriff. Her pulse thudded disconcertingly.
“Howdy, Miss Julee. How’s the big city?”
“Hectic. Noisy.”
Bert grinned. “Yep, that’s the way I remember cities.”
“But L.A.’s a great city,” she hurried to interject, not wanting him or Tate to know just how hectic life had become or how peaceful and pleasant Blackwood seemed after the crowded stress of L.A. “How about you? How’s the family?”
“Good. Good. Shelly’s a counselor over at the high school now and got two little ones, Zack and Amy. I’m a granddaddy.”
A counselor. Julee’s sense of worth dropped another notch. While she was flashing her legs for a camera, Tate’s wife helped young people find direction and guidance.
And Tate had other children now. She glanced at him, but his green eyes were as hard and unreadable as marbles.
“I’m glad, Mr. Atkins. Tell her hello for me.”
“You can tell her yourself. She’ll be here the day of your big blood drive. I guess half the county will be.”
“I hope so. That’s what I needed to see the sheriff about.”
“Well, sit down then.” The older man hopped up and pulled out a chair. “You two go on and talk while I find me a cup of coffee.” He glanced at Tate with a grin. “Guess Mildred isn’t planning to bring me one.”
Though she had no idea what he meant, Julee smiled in response and accepted the chair as Bert moved away, leaving her alone with Tate. For some reason, her legs grew weak every time she encountered Sheriff Congeniality. Scooting up to the table her knee bumped his, sending a warm awareness straight to her midsection. The contact had the opposite effect on Tate. He jerked as though she’d stabbed him.
Julee felt a trickle of remorse as realization struck. “Is it your knee?”
The question caught him by surprise. He blinked, reflexively reaching for the old injury. “No. The knee’s fine.”
“Oh. Good.” An uncomfortable silence hung between them. After their initial encounter Julianna wasn’t sure how to begin. What else could she possibly say to this familiar stranger that would change his mind?
“Could we declare a truce? Start all over?”
His right eyebrow shot up. “Start over?”
Closing her eyes momentarily she bit back a sigh. Once she’d been able to tell him anything, but now time and heartache had built a wall between them. “The hospital administrator tells me you’re the man to see about traffic control.”
He shifted sideways, away from her. The fluorescent lights cast a glare along his square jawline, highlighting a narrow white scar. With a shock, she remembered the night he’d gotten that scar…because of her.
“Why would a blood drive require traffic control?”
Julee forced the memory away, though looking into his moss-green eyes proved just as tumultuous. “Because the high-school band has volunteered to drum up interest, if you’ll pardon the pun, by marching down Main Street Saturday morning. People will hear the band and be reminded that the drive has begun.”
A gaggle of ladies, all carrying bags of yarn, twittered past, poking each other as they cast knowing looks at the handsome sheriff. Tate nodded politely, trying to cover an expression of amused exasperation.
“Look, Julee,” he said, leaning near enough that she caught a whiff of peppermint and some wonderfully warm male scent. “I’m the sheriff, not a parade marshal. Can’t the city police take care of that sort of thing?”
Julianna’s pulse stumbled. From this close she could count the black spiky lashes framing Tate’s green eyes. He had such beautiful eyes, deep and fathomless, and as full of mystery as the man himself.
Hands in her lap, she nervously twisted them together. Why was she thinking of Tate and that scar and his gorgeous eyes? Hadn’t she had enough bad experiences with men? And why was she suddenly hub-deep in memories of the two of them jouncing along in that old beat-up Chevy truck, its heater barely keeping the fog off the wind-shield while they listened to Pearl Jam on their way to a football game? It was in that pickup that they’d first… Julianna mentally slammed on the brakes. Do not go there.
“The city police are helping,” she said, amazed to sound so normal when her thoughts were anything but. “But they suggested your office was needed to erect detour barriers for through traffic and such things as that. In fact, Chief Little suggested the two of you coordinate efforts.”
On an exhale Tate leaned back in his chair and glanced down at his watch. Light reflected off the handsome copper band with turquoise insets. “I’ll talk to him.”
Relieved, Julianna pressed clammy hands to the table-top. With any luck, she and the enthusiastic townspeople would wear down his resistance. Come Saturday, Tate would stretch out that dark, sinewy arm and give their daughter a new chance at life. “I appreciate this. I really do.”
With an accepting tilt of his head, Tate’s gaze fell to her hand. “That’s quite a ring.”
“Thank you.” Nervously, she clasped the ringed hand to her chest, twisting the sapphire that matched her eyes.
“Engagement ring?”
“No.”
He arched that black eyebrow again and she wished he’d stop it. The movement of that one little eyebrow had the power to reduce her to nothing. Embarrassed by her completely aberrant thoughts as well as the ostentatious sapphire, which had been a gift from a former beau, heat rushed to her cheeks. The cut and size of the stone weren’t all that unusual in L.A. but here in Blackwood the ring seemed out of place. And so did she.
“So you’re not married?” Behind the unfathomable eyes lurked an emotion Julee couldn’t identify.
Uncomfortable with the personal turn of conversation, she gestured vaguely. “Not at the moment. My life is far too busy.”
She didn’t want to admit the truth, especially to Tate, but the last man she’d dated had lost all interest when Megan’s cancer returned. Though Julianna was too occupied with saving her daughter to mourn his loss, his disappearance had cemented her belief that she was only an ornament, a decoration.
“Too busy,” he said softly, the words a reminder of how their own busy lives had pulled them in different directions.
The double doors leading into the center flapped open and a slight breeze swirled around their legs, bringing with it the scent of coffee and the remnants of the Chamber luncheon. A rattle of voices, the words incomprehensible, drifted around the room, but Julee felt isolated, captured in the aura of Tate McIntyre. An odd lump of longing filled her throat.
For a nanosecond the air vibrated with memory. Julee studied the remains of an interrupted checker game, making every attempt not to look at Tate.
Breaking the mood, Tate scraped back from the table and rose. “Sorry to run out on you again, but duty calls.”
She looked up at him, grateful for the tiny crack in the fence between them. For one entire minute there had been a feeling, a something hovering around that table, that gave her hope. “Your job seems very important to you.”
“It’s my life.” His wonderfully angled jaw clenched. “And I’m good at it, Julee. I’m good at it.”
He turned to move away, his muscular legs long and fluid in the creased uniform pants.
“Tate,” she called.
He turned back, waiting.
“I’m glad you’ve made a good life, that you’re happy.”
A flash of something—pain?—quickly masked, flared as he held her gaze. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to feel the magnetism of Tate and the old memories, but she couldn’t seem to tear her attention away. And truly she was pleased that the hurting boy she’d loved had found fulfillment.
“What about you?” he asked, his words intense, almost harsh. “Are you happy?”
“I…I…” Julee stuttered. “Of course.”
“Good.” For another interminable moment he held her with a look that brought a flush to her face and trepidation to her soul. And then he was gone, the beautiful athletic physique striding out of the Senior Center.
Why had he asked such a thing? And why had she hesitated? Her life was busy. She had her career, her friends. And most of all, she had Megan. Certainly, she was happy with the life she’d chosen.
Wasn’t she?