One True Heart (14 page)

Leaving her to pack, Beau drove over to the funeral home and made all the arrangements. As he knew Mr. Wright would, Tyler said he'd take care of everything.

It was afternoon when Beau left the cemetery. He drove back to Winter's Inn and asked if his room was still available. Martha Q had heard about his father's death, so she hugged him twice, and Mrs. Biggs set a basket of cookies in his room while he went out to collect his guitar and bag.

Beau closed the door. Finally, he was alone. He fell atop the bed and closed his eyes. He thought of all the things he should feel, but all he really felt at the moment was tired. One deep breath and he was sound asleep.

When he woke it was almost eight. After a shower and shave in the fancy, overdecorated bathroom, he grabbed his guitar and moved out on the porch to watch the night move in. As he always did, he began to play, letting the music drift in the air. Some sad songs came to him, but he played all the old favorites of his grandfather, who'd been his first teacher.

Long after dark, Trouble pulled into the drive and just sat in her car listening. He played a few of the songs that he'd written while thinking of her.

When he finally stopped, he set his guitar inside and joined her. She drove while he leaned back and let the wind and memories circle round him.

M
ONDAY
AFTERNOON

Low rolling clouds lowered the temperature several degrees as Millanie drifted half asleep on the porch. Martha Q left with her friend, a very distinguished-looking man she introduced as Mr. Carleon.

The two made an odd pair. He stood watching the owner of the inn as if she were a great actress and he was simply one of the stage props. The white-haired man smiled when Martha Q said anything outrageous. He adored her and she relished the attention.

Millanie had almost laughed aloud when Martha Q claimed they were just friends because Mr. Carleon had winked. She couldn't decide if the old couple were lovers, or if they just got a kick out of letting the world think they were.

“Don't look for me home tonight,” Martha Q yelled back as Mr. Carleon helped her into his expensive black Lincoln. “We're going over to one of casinos in Oklahoma and I might get lucky.”

They both looked like they were laughing as they drove away.

Millanie thought about being almost thirty-three and she hadn't settled anywhere or even made a friend she could laugh with. The McAllen homestead gave her the first sense of belonging anywhere, but one old house wouldn't be enough to hold her here. Maybe she'd always be a drifter, comfortable in any place but at home in none.

She heard the familiar sound of Drew's Jeep but she didn't open her eyes. He hadn't committed to the wedding last Saturday night and, in truth, she hadn't been sure she wanted to go, but still she felt like he'd somehow let her down. It would have been a good opportunity to ask a few people about folks who were new in town.

Drew's footsteps tapped lightly on the porch. “Evening, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed her lightly.

Millanie opened her eyes. “You stood me up Saturday.”

He studied her. “I never said I'd go.”

“Your sister told me you don't like crowds.”

“Don't talk to my sister. It'll mess with your brain.” He lowered into the chair beside her. “You mad at me?”

“No, I don't know you well enough to be mad at you. How about answering a few questions, Dr. Andrew Cunningham? If you're going to drop by and kiss me, I'd like to talk to you now and then.”

He shrugged. “All right, Captain McAllen, but no name, rank, and serial number. I'm no good at the hard questions.”

“So you know I was in the army?” She wasn't surprised.

“Word gets around; besides, a woman who packs in a duffel bag was a strong clue.” He reached over and took her hand as if he'd done so a hundred times. “If it's all right with you, I don't want to hear how you were hurt. I would, however, like to know how the recovery is coming along when you know me well enough to discuss intimate details like what's under that cast.”

The last thing she wanted to talk about was her injury,
past or present, and she wasn't sure he really wanted to know the damage under the plaster.

“Did you know your sister thinks we're dating?” Millanie had no idea where to start with this man. She had the impression if she asked too personal a question he'd bolt.

“Is that the first question?”

“Yes.”

“All right, yes, Kare mentioned it to me and I didn't correct her. I'm not exactly sure when the
dating
tag gets slapped on, but I wouldn't mind. Going out with you sounds good. Staying home sounds even better.”

“How do you feel about everyone knowing, Professor?”

He squeezed her hand. “I don't much care what people say or what they think of anything I do. It's been so long since I've had a date I'm not sure I know how to play the role. You'd think there would be a guidebook somewhere I could download.”

“You're lying, Professor. Everyone I meet thinks highly of you. They all say how intelligent you are. What a nice guy you are. If you didn't care, you wouldn't talk to church groups and work on every community project from Clifton Creek to Harmony.”

Millanie didn't miss the fact that she'd just described one trait of the man she was tracking. Add
new to the area
and she had two matches. “Next questions. What did you do all day?”

He laced his fingers in hers. “I taught my class this morning, then spent the day at my computer doing research. I'm working on a book or, more accurately, a series of stories.”

She felt, in the tightening of his touch, that he didn't like this game they were playing, but she planned to continue. “You good at computers?”

“I told you before that my sister and I share a love for computers. Sometimes, at night, we link and play games. She's so smart. Beats me every time.”

Millanie closed her eyes. Third trait the dangerous man she sought might have. Only Drew wasn't rich; he didn't spread money around. He must not fly a plane or he wouldn't
have been at the airport. He didn't have a car. He had family here.

She was cracking up if she thought this gentle man could be an underworld mastermind involved in drug trafficking and money laundering.

“No more questions?” he announced.

“One,” she said. “Tell me about your last date.”

He relaxed. “It was Friday. We ate hamburgers—no, correction, cheeseburgers at the truck stop and then—”

“No, not our last date. The last date you had before you met me.”

He was silent and she waited. If he lied he might not be the criminal she was looking for, but she decided she'd make it plain she didn't want to see him again. This was a tough time in her life and she didn't want to complicate it with someone with whom she had to pick lies out of the conversations.

He leaned back as if debating whether to tell her. Finally, he said, “My last date was late in August five years ago. This time of year when the air cools at night and the leaves seem darker green just before they turn. I don't remember the exact date but I know it was close to school starting. I took out a girl named Holly Lee O'Neal. I'd known her since college and always thought she was pretty as her name. We bought hot dogs from a street vendor and walked to a concert in the park. The night couldn't have been more perfect. We were good friends and she was leaving for Europe the next day to do graduate work. We were both excited about fall coming and where we were heading. We were close friends back then.”

“Sleepover kind of friends?”

“Yes, when we were in college. Not that night,” he answered. “I heard she ended up getting her master's degree in Celtic legends, but I'm not sure about that.”

“And you never saw her again?”

“No. I never saw or dated her again. She married some guy from Lake Forest. Lives in a house that looks over the water, and last I checked, she had two kids.”

Millanie knew she was getting far too personal, but she asked, “Did you love her?”

“No. I cared about her, still do, but I've never caught that illness called love. How about you?”

She smiled, knowing he was tired of talking about himself and wanted to turn the tables. It was only fair. “I'm thirty-two, Drew, and never had the illness either. I don't think I ever will. I've had a few sleepover friends but no one I couldn't walk away from.”

He leaned forward. “Can we stop with the interrogation, Millanie? If we keep going you're bound to ask a question I don't want to answer, and I don't want to lie to you. I came by to see if you want to go to a fund-raiser in Bailee. All the chili and cornbread you can eat, and then there's a baseball game we have to watch between the Baptists and the Methodists.”

“I'd need to change.”

“Believe me, you're fine just the way you are. As far as I can tell there is no dress code.”

“But the crutches. I don't know how I'd manage the stands at a game.”

“I'll catch you if you fall. I promise.” He stood and pulled her up. “If we're dating, we might as well go out.”

“I thought you didn't like crowds.”

He leaned in close. “This will be nothing but locals. No big crowds and it's outside.” His cheek brushed hers and he whispered, “One more answer to a question you forgot to ask. I don't want to be a sleepover kind of friend with you. This attraction I have for you is different than that. What's between us won't be shoved away in a dark corner to be kept secret. If we're dating, then we do it in front of everyone. If you're not comfortable with that, you'd better tell me now.”

His hand moved along her side, caressing. She felt his need to touch her and saw the fire smoldering in his eyes. He'd answered her questions; now it was time for her to answer his.

She took in the nearness of him, the way he almost brushed along the side of her breast as his fingers moved
and how he stayed close enough that his words tickled her ear. He was right; whatever this was, it was not a casual one-night stand. The need to be near him went all the way to her soul.

For the first time ever she whispered, “We're dating.”

His mouth closed over hers in a kiss that made her forget all about questions. Part of her wanted to demand the names and addresses of Holly Lee O'Neal and every girl he ever dated. She needed to send them all thank-you cards for teaching him exactly what a woman wants in a kiss.

On the drive over to Bailee, Millanie tried to get her mind and body to settle, but all she could think about was that no one had ever warmed her blood so completely.
It was just a kiss
, she kept saying to herself, but she knew it was much, much more.

What they were doing, what they'd done from the first night, was foreplay and they both knew it.

Maybe Drew Cunningham was starved if he hadn't had a date in five years, but there was something that rattled her to her toes about the man. He was nice looking, but with his shaggy hair and out-of-style clothes he was not a man women noticed in a crowd.

His hand rested on her left knee as he drove, singing softly to an old seventies song on the radio. The Jeep ran like it had a powerful engine encased in an old frame.

“How many cars do you have that you drive and don't own?” she asked when he slowed to turn off the highway onto a farm-to-market road.

“Do you always talk in questions?”

She realized he was right. “I do.”

“I'll answer, but this is the last question of the night.” He looked at her and stared until she nodded, and then he continued. “When I first went to college, I got a job sweeping up at a garage. I found it interesting to see how cars worked. Before long I'd figured it out. A mechanic's pay was higher than a janitor's. Most kids going to Yale don't even know how to change the oil. I made a killing.”

“You went to Yale?”

He pulled off the road and stopped. “Last question, remember.”

“You're right.” She was surprised he didn't look angry, just determined.

“I like working on cars. A friend of mine and I like to fix them up so they could race, but don't tell his wife. She'd throw a fit if she knew we hit the back roads now and then to see just how fast we can go.”

Millanie thought of a dozen questions, but she didn't ask. He was sharing and maybe if she gave it time she'd learn all she needed to know.

Only, her logical mind checked off two more things on her list that Drew had in common with her invisible bad guy. Fast cars and invisible in crowds. She told herself the friend he mentioned might also be a person of interest, but the man before her was fast becoming a suspect—or a possible lover.

Neither talked until they got to the baseball field. True to his promise, he held her close as they maneuvered over the uneven ground.

Several tents were set up beside the roped-off field he called a parking lot. For ten dollars they got a badge that said
Official Judge
and a quart jug of sweet iced tea. Drew sat her in the middle of the cooks and went from tent to tent picking up samples of chili. Some were great, others so hot she downed half her tea to put out the fire.

He circled back to the tents until they picked their favorite chili. She wasn't surprised he liked the mild and she went for the spicy.

Their conversation was easy. He introduced her to a few people from the college and one old couple he said lived out at Twisted Creek. When he finally brought her peach cobbler, he sat down beside her, letting his leg brush against hers. No matter where they were, he seemed to feel a need to be touching her and she didn't mind.

“You know, chili was invented on the cattle drives. They had trouble keeping meat fresh and the spices made the questionable beef, or whatever landed in the pot, taste better.”

“Thanks, Professor.” She liked the way he slipped into his role. He was a man of many layers. She was both attracted to him and worried about some side of him she hadn't yet seen.

“Anytime,” he answered, as if she hadn't been being sarcastic.

As the sun set, the lights on a roped-off field came on. The dirt could only very roughly be called a ballpark. Tumbleweeds half the size of a man rolled back and forth in the changing winds. Big white chalk lines marked squares for bases, and two rows of boards stretched over barrels formed the stands on either side of home base. About the time Millanie hobbled over and found a safe place to sit out of the way of any traffic pattern, men leading donkeys took to the field.