Summer Rose (11 page)

Hunter’s friend had slowed the car down to almost to a standstill because this was supposedly the house where the town “hooker” lived, and being young, inquisitive boys, they wanted to get a peek at her. Just then a woman in an open bathrobe and smeared makeup had emerged through the front door and ushered a man out on the porch. He’d stopped for a moment and handed her some bills. She’d kissed him and waved as he’d gotten into his car, then she’d turned to the child and yelled, “Get inside.”

The boys had whooped and hollered and driven off, and Hunter had dismissed the incident from his mind. After all, she was just a little girl. Now, he had to wonder if that little girl had been Beth Lawrence.

Slowly, he slid from the truck and made his way to the back of the house. There, in the middle of the backyard, stood a giant maple tree. One of the lower branches extended out from the trunk at almost a ninety degree angle. He walked over and stood under it, then looked up. The branch held no telltale scars of once holding the tire swing that Beth had described to Rose.

Had that whole story Beth told Rose been just a figment of her imagination? A story made up to be what Beth would have liked her life to have been like? His heart twisted for that little barefoot girl and for the teenager who’d had to invent a decent childhood so she wouldn’t have to face the memory of the nightmare it had actually been.

With a heavy heart Hunter went back to his truck. He started it and turned to back out of the driveway. Then he spotted a For Sale sign peeking out from between the white lacy flowers of a large growth of Queen Anne’s Lace. He shook his head. Anyone who bought this place would have a major renovation project on their hands.

Then, with no clear reason for doing so, he pulled a small notepad from the glove box and jotted down the phone number on the sign.

All the way back to the office,
Hunter tried to make up his mind if he’d tell Rose what he’d found. Should he destroy Beth’s dream and along with it Rose’s trust in her friend by telling Rose what he’d seen at the Johnson place, what Beth’s idyllic life had really been like?

He recalled the look in Rose’s eyes when she’d related Beth’s description of the house and her life. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Rose had adopted that life as her own dream, too. If he destroyed Beth’s fantasy world, he’d destroy Rose’s as well.

Did he want to do that? More to the point,
could
he do that?

Rose stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom looking at her nude profile. She ran her hand over her surprisingly flat stomach. From her nursing experience on the obstetric wing of the last hospital she’d worked in, she knew that some women carrying twins went as far as their seventeenth week before they started showing. However, once they did, it seemed that they expanded very quickly. Thankfully, she appeared to be one of the late bloomers and, aside from the nausea, which had subsided weeks ago, none of the normal symptoms of frequent urination, increased appetite and heartburn had manifested themselves yet either.

But she’d need to find an obstetrician soon. She hadn’t had a checkup since she left her old job, which was when her supervisor found out about the babies.

She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, then headed into the bedroom to get dressed for work
. Work.
That one word had the power to resurrect something Rose had been trying to put to the back of her mind since yesterday.

She flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Why in God’s name had she let Hunter kiss her? Even worse, why had she responded?

Because you love him, and because you’ve been wanting him to kiss you for weeks.

But it’s wrong. He doesn’t want a family. So nothing can come of it.

Then why didn’t you tell him about the babies?

She hesitated, searching for a reason.
Well, because . . . because I got distracted when I found he was worried about the mayor taking the animals away.

Pitiful excuse. And what about when he came back from his house call? You couldn’t wait to get out of the office and into the safety of your apartment.

She sat up, clutching the towel around her. That’s exactly what she’d done. She’d had the afternoon to think about what had happened on the picnic bench, and while she’d loved it, she knew it had been a taste of something akin to Eve’s forbidden fruit. And it only made it harder to be with him and not be able to . . .

She stood and threw the towel to the side, then began pulling clothes from the closet. Why was she torturing herself? Hunter didn’t want the responsibility of a family, and she came with one built-in, so to speak. End of story.

The question of a relationship with Hunter was moot, and Rose didn’t think he’d fire her because she was pregnant. So she really had no reason not to tell him about the twins. It was time.

She owed him a meal, so she’d invite him to dinner tonight and tell him then.

Later that morning,
Davy came through the office door, his face grim. “Hey, Miss Rose.”

From experience, Rose knew it took a lot to erase the perpetual smile from Davy’s mouth. Most times, on the rare occasions when it did happen, it had something to do with the animals. “Hi, Davy. Why so sad?”

He shuffled his feet on the linoleum floor and glanced at her, then back at the floor. “Mom says Dad might close the refuge and get rid of all the animals. Is that so?”

“I’m afraid so, but Doc and I are trying to find a way to stop him.”

He flopped down in the chair beside her desk. “We should load everybody in town on the school buses and bring them all out here and show them that none of the animals will hurt them.” He fiddled with something in his lap while he talked.

“Whatcha got there?”

His face brightened some. “It’s a friendship collar I made for Sadie.” He held it up. “Think she’ll like it?”

The collar was fashioned of braided colored ribbons. “It’s lovely, Davy. Very stylish. I’m sure she’ll love it, mostly because it came from you, but you’d better ask Doc first. Okay?”

“Okay.” That seemed to take the edge off his worry about what his father was trying to do. “I’m gonna go show it to her before I start feeding the animals.” He jumped to his feet and dashed from the building, letting the door slam behind him.

With a smile teasing at her lips, Rose watched him go, wishing she could forget about what George had up his sleeve as easily as the boy.

“Who was that?”

Rose jumped at the sound of Hunter’s voice. “Davy. He’s made a friendship collar for Sadie and ran off to show it to her.”

Hunter laughed. “Maybe we should get him to make one for George.”

Rose frowned. That wasn’t the type of collar she had in mind for the troublesome mayor. If only it were that simple to change George’s mind. Then she recalled what Davy had suggested about bringing the townspeople out there to prove the animals were harmless.

“Hunter, I need to talk to you.” About more than just the mayor.

He held up his medical bag. “Can it wait until later? I’m on my way out. One of Catherine Daniels’ thoroughbreds has gone into labor, and she’s in trouble.”

“Sure. How about over dinner? My place? Around seven or so? After all, I owe you one.”

He grinned. “It’s a date.” Then he winked and hurried out the door. “Cancel the rest of my appointments for today,” he called over his shoulder. “I should be back by seven, but I’ll call if I’m going to be late.”

She waved and then grabbed her pen and a legal pad and started writing. Since Hunter was gone and no patients would be interrupting her, Rose could spend the rest of the day working out the plan to implement Davy’s suggestion.

By the time she shut down the office and went home to start dinner, she had a very viable plan in place, one that she thought Hunter would go for and that could stop George Collins once and for all.

Now, all she had to do was make sure her nerve didn’t desert her when it came time to tell him about the pregnancy.

Cooking had never been
one of Rose’s strong points, but she found she couldn’t go wrong with the help of Newman’s Own Sockarooni Marinara Sauce, a tossed salad and an already seasoned loaf of garlic bread she would just toss in the oven and heat up while the spaghetti cooked. The table was set, the oven was heating in preparation for putting in the bread, the salad chilling in the fridge and the sauce simmering away on the stove. She just wished that telling Hunter her secret could be prepared for as easily.

Hunter’s truck had pulled into the yard twenty minutes ago. He must be showering away the aftermath of delivering a colt. She knew from working in hospital delivery rooms that that was not something he’d want to bring to the dinner table.

Rose glanced at the clock. Six forty-five. At seven she’d put the spaghetti water on to boil. That would give her fifteen minutes to fret over what she would be talking to Hunter about tonight, and it wasn’t just the plans to stop George. What she had to tell him after they’d discussed her plan was what had been causing her stomach to roil since that afternoon.

Having this dinner here, in this intimate atmosphere, probably hadn’t been the smartest idea for someone who was trying to distance herself from the man who would be sharing the meal with her. But, as silly as it sounded, she’d decided she’d feel much more comfortable discussing the babies in familiar surroundings. The problem with that being, if things didn’t go well, she’d look really silly walking out of her own house. Then again, at that point, it wouldn’t matter much.

To keep her hands busy and her mind occupied, she fussed with the table, straightening silverware and lining it up just so, making sure the glasses were positioned at the tip of the knife, refolding the napkins and removing the candles because they looked too romantic. Then she did it all again. By the time she was ready to rearrange the table for the third time, a knock sounded on the door at the foot of the stairs.

“Come in,” she called, taking a deep breath to fortify herself for the evening ahead of her.

The door squeaked open, and then closed quietly. Then footsteps sounded on the stairs. She swallowed and waited for that bottomless dip in her stomach that happened every time she came face to face with this man.

“Hi. I brought wine.” Hunter stood at the top of the stairs holding up a bottle of red wine.

This time, her stomach didn’t dip. It did its own version of the tarantella. A pale blue Izod hugged his well-developed chest and biceps and if his jeans were any snugger, he wouldn’t be able to walk.

God help her!

Quickly, she turned back to the stove and flipped on the burner beneath the pot of spaghetti water, then shoved the bread in the hot oven. A wave of heat washed her face as she closed the oven door.

“Red wine is perfect to go with the spaghetti.” She turned to him again, hoping he’d interpret the flush she could feel invading her face as a result of the hot stove. “How did you guess?”

“I smelled the sauce when I got out of the truck.” He came to where she stood beside the stove and peered over her shoulder into the pot of simmering sauce. “
Mmm
. Smells great.”

Too close
.

Rose stepped away and grabbed the handle of the refrigerator for balance. “Why don’t you open the wine and pour yourself a glass while I get the salad on the table?” Rummaging through the silverware drawer, she extracted a corkscrew and handed it to him.

He frowned. “That’s right. I forgot that you don’t drink.”

She forced a smile. “No reason you can’t.”
You’re not pregnant
.

That thought reminded her of what she had to tell Hunter later that evening. But she pushed it to the back of her mind. First she wanted to run her plan to save his beloved animals by him.

While Hunter poured the wine, Rose put the salad and dressing on the table, then the timer went off to signal the spaghetti was done. She drained it and added the sauce, then put it on the table in a large serving bowl and went back to the kitchen area to get the bread from the oven and slice it. All the time she was increasingly conscious of Hunter’s eyes following her every move.

Despite Rose’s apprehensions,
dinner proved to be very pleasant. They talked about the patients who’d come through the clinic the previous day, and Hunter’s house call to deliver the foal, a beautiful little pinto filly.

They were finishing dessert, a store-bought apple pie with vanilla ice cream, and sipping after-dinner decaf coffee. Hunter looked relaxed and content, and Rose decided it was a good time to approach him with her plan.

“Hunter, I was thinking today about George Collins—”

Frowning, he held up a hand. “Please, don’t spoil a lovely dinner with talk of him.”

Leaning forward, she rested her hand on his. “Please. Hear me out.”

He was silent for a moment, then one corner of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Okay. What about George?”

Gathering her thoughts, she leaned back in her chair. “I have an idea that . . . actually, it sort of started with something Davy said . . . that might just get George off your back.”

His expression changed to one of immediate interest. “Keep talking.”

“Well, what if we had an open house? Let the townsfolk come and see that the animals aren’t dangerous,” Words spewed from her as she attempted to get the entire idea out there before he could make a judgment. “We could have hot dogs and games for the kids and maybe even let them pet some of the baby animals. If they see for themselves that there’s no danger, then maybe George will be outvoted on the town council, and he’ll find someone else to antagonize.” The room went deadly silent. Hunter didn’t say anything. He just sat there fiddling with his spoon and staring at the table.

Rose waited.

Still he just sat there.

“Well? What do you think?”

He said nothing.

He hated the idea. Her heart sank.

Suddenly, he vaulted from the chair, rounded the table and swept her into his arms in a bear hug. “You’re a genius. It’s so simple. Why didn’t I think of this?” He swung her around, and then stopped abruptly, set her on the floor and before she could catch her breath, he kissed her. Hard. On the mouth.

It all happened so suddenly that she clung to his neck to keep her balance. Then the kiss stopped being one of thanks for coming up with a plan to save the refuge and turned into one of a man kissing a woman, a woman he didn’t want to let go.

Hunter hadn’t intended for the kiss to be more than a thank you for her great idea, but as soon as his mouth closed over hers, he couldn’t stop himself from deepening it, savoring her in the way he’d wanted to for weeks.

He pulled her closer, loving the way they fit together from head to toe. In the back of his mind he knew he should stop this craziness before it got out of hand. Then she melted against him, tightened her hold on his neck and cupped the back of his head in her palm, imprisoning his mouth against hers.

The need in him had swelled and intensified, drowning out the little voice cautioning him against doing something they’d both regret come morning. As if he’d been sucked down by an invisible whirlpool, Hunter lost all sense of time, of space. He could do nothing but feel.

Wrapped in a sensual daze, he bent and lifted her body against him, then walked into her bedroom and kicked the door closed behind them.

Hours later, Rose lay wrapped
in Hunter’s arms in her big double bed, basking in the wonder of what had just happened. As Hunter’s breath feathered her hair, she smiled contentedly. She’d never before felt so complete, so totally at ease with life . . . except for the one thing that would make it perfect. The time had come to clear her conscience of its secret.