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Forever...Again
Maureen Child
Everything about Lily Cunningham, the newly arrived public relations maven of Merlyn County, put widower Ron Bingham on edge, from his nerves to his heart. But no amount of breath-stealing attraction would change the facts: Ron had married–and lost–the love of his life long ago.He knew that when it came to true love, there was no such thing as a second chance. But now, this city girl's feisty flirtations and blond beauty have gotten under his skin–and into his soul–and he's begun to think maybe he could have forever…again.
“Who the hell are you, Lily Cunningham?” Ron asked.
“A rich dilettante killing a few months in a backwater?”
She sucked in air like a drowning man. “That’s what you think of me?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Only totally.” Planting both hands on his broad chest, she gave him a mighty shove that, much to her disgust, didn’t budge him an inch. “You are a completely infuriating man.”
“That’s been said before.”
“Hardly surprising.” Liliy whirled around and took two quick steps.
Ron dropped one big hand on her shoulder. “Running away?”
“I do not run away from anything.”
“Then what’s your hurry?”
She took a long, deep breath and prayed for patience. “Tell me why I should stand here and let you insult me in my own office.”
He looked down at her and held her gaze. Then he said, softly, unexpectedly, “I don’t want you to go.”
Dear Reader,
Well, it’s that time of year again—and if those beautiful buds of April are any indication, you’re in the mood for love! And what better way to sustain that mood than with our latest six Special Edition novels? We open the month with the latest installment of Sherryl Woods’s MILLION DOLLAR DESTINIES series, Priceless. When a pediatric oncologist who deals with life and death on a daily basis meets a sick child’s football hero, she thinks said hero can make the little boy’s dreams come true. But little does she know that he can make hers a reality, as well! Don’t miss this compelling story….
MERLYN COUNTY MIDWIVES continues with Maureen Child’s Forever…Again, in which a man who doesn’t believe in second chances has a change of mind—not to mention heart—when he meets the beautiful new public relations guru at the midwifery clinic. In Cattleman’s Heart by Lois Faye Dyer, a businesswoman assigned to help a struggling rancher finds that business is the last thing on her mind when she sees the shirtless cowboy meandering toward her! And Susan Mallery’s popular DESERT ROGUES are back! In The Sheik & the Princess in Waiting, a woman learns that the man she loved in college has two secrets: 1) he’s a prince; and 2) they’re married! Next, can a pregnant earthy vegetarian chef find happiness with town’s resident playboy, an admitted carnivore…and father of her child? Find out in The Best of Both Worlds by Elissa Ambrose. And in Vivienne Wallington’s In Her Husband’s Image, a widow confronted with her late husband’s twin brother is forced to decide, as she looks in the eyes of her little boy, if some secrets are worth keeping.
So enjoy the beginnings of spring, and all six of these wonderful books! And don’t forget to come back next month for six new compelling reads from Silhouette Special Edition.
Happy reading!
Gail Chasan
Senior Editor
Forever…Again
Maureen Child
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Cherry Adair, for helping me
find the writing magic…again.
MAUREEN CHILD
is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. The author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur.
Visit her Web site at www.maureenchild.com.
Merlyn County Regional Hospital Happenings
Congratulations to midwife Milla Johnson on her engagement to our very own handsome pediatrician, Dr. Kyle Bingham! With two such wonderful people on our staff, the children of Merlyn County couldn’t be in better hands! A bridal shower for the happy couple is in the works. Please see the receptionist’s desk for more details.
Detective Bryce Collins is still working alongside Dr. Mari Bingham on the investigation into procedures at the Foster Clinic. Please give the detective your full cooperation should he request information about the hospital. And please continue to report any strange behavior at the Foster Clinic or in the pharmacy department to Dr. Bingham or her receptionist.
Volunteers for PR director Lily Cunningham’s next great fund-raising idea should contact the receptionist’s desk. (And anyone who sees CEO Ron Bingham hanging around Lily’s office and grumbling about the festivities—ignore him!)
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Lily Cunningham laughed to herself as she swiped a paper towel along the counter in one of the birthing rooms. If her friends in New York could see her now, she thought. They’d never believe it. But then who would?
A woman of forty-five who’d hit the top of her profession, made tons of money and lived in a plush apartment in Manhattan would appear to have everything she’d ever wanted. Right?
Wrong.
Lily crumpled the paper towel, stepped on the pedal of the gleaming stainless steel trash can and dropped the used paper inside. Smiling to herself, she left the birthing room, turning the light out behind her.
Stepping into the hall, she breathed deeply, enjoying the cool, soothing pastel tones on the walls and the scent of fresh flowers drifting through the women’s clinic. The sound of the three-inch heels of her scarlet pumps were muffled on the carpeted hallway as she made her way to her office. Smiling and nodding at the people she passed, she heard the indignant cry of a newborn from one room, and from behind the closed door of another, she heard a midwife calmly saying, “You have to remember to breathe, Shelley.”
Lily smiled and kept walking.
This is what made her happy, she thought.
Being here.
In Kentucky.
At the Foster Midwifery Clinic.
Doing work that meant something. That had impact on people’s lives. That required more of her than looking spectacular at a business dinner.
“Lily!”
She stopped and swung around to face Mari Bingham, the wonderful doctor who’d brought Lily on as public relations director in the first place. As usual, Mari was walking at a half run. The woman simply never slowed down.
“Where’s the fire?” Lily asked, smiling.
“Where isn’t a fire?” Mari shook her head and then jammed both hands into the pockets of her white lab coat, rummaging around in their depths. “I swear, it’s as if the whole county decided nine months ago that it would be a great time to make a baby.”
“I noticed.” And Lily liked it. She’d never had children of her own, which was just one of the small sore spots that ached in the corners of her heart. Oh, she’d learned to live with the disappointment years ago, and being here, constantly in the midst of labors and deliveries…almost made her feel a part of everything.
Working for the midwifery clinic and women’s ealth center was like having a ringside seat for a miracle, every day.
“We’ve only got the one birthing room empty at the moment.” Lily grinned. “If this keeps up, maybe you should think about expanding.”
Mari’s eyes widened. “Bite your tongue,” she said on a half laugh. “We’ve got plenty to do right now, with the clinic and the…” Her voice trailed off and a scowl tightened her expression.
Lily could have kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to give Mari any reason to think about the ridiculous accusations flying around. But judging by the tired, haunted look in Mari’s eyes, the younger woman was doing a lot of thinking lately, with or without Lily’s reminders.
Reaching out, she laid one hand on Mari’s arm, and the woman stilled. “You’re not to worry about any of this, you know,” Lily said. “It’s bull, all of it. And that sheriff will figure it out sooner or later.”
Mari sighed and at last pulled her right hand free of her pocket, a slip of paper clutched in her hand. “I’ve known Bryce practically my whole life,” she said softly. Shaking her head, she shifted her gaze from Lily’s as if she couldn’t bear to meet the sympathy and understanding she’d find there. “If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be his prime suspect in an illegal drug investigation, I’d have laughed myself sick.”
“As you should,” Lily said.
“It doesn’t sound so funny anymore.” Mari glanced over her shoulder, down the long hallway toward the waiting room. Sitting in chairs were a half-dozen women waiting to be examined. Small children sat at the miniature tables and chairs, reading books or coloring. Everything looked perfectly normal. And it really wasn’t. Nothing had been normal in months.
Turning around, Mari lifted her gaze to Lily’s. “If Bryce doesn’t clear this up soon, we may lose even more funding, and then I don’t know what we’ll do.”
“That’s for me to worry about,” Lily said firmly, making sure her voice sounded way more confident than she felt at the moment. “You’ll see. The fund-raising party will bring in bushel loads of cash. We’ll leave our important guests staggered and, hopefully, broke.”
Mari smiled and nodded, though doubt flickered in her eyes.
“Nice thought. And on that subject—” Mari held out the slip of paper “—this is why I stopped you. It’s the name and number of another possible contributor. My grandmother says, and I quote, �They’ve got more money than sense, honey. They should be good for a sizable donation.”’
“Your grandmother should have my job.”
“Oh, no.” Mari smiled and this time her heart was in it. “Grandmother doesn’t have the kind of tact required to part a billionaire from his wallet.”
“And that’s where I come in.” Lily grinned and winked. She snatched the piece of paper. “You’ll see, Mari. Everything is going to be fine.”
“Your mouth to God’s ear.”
“Oh,” Lily smiled and promised, “always.”
As Mari hurried back down the long, well-lit hall, Lily stared after her. Despite waving her pom-poms for Mari’s sake, Lily was a little worried. Things had just been so darn strange lately. She never would have expected to run into a drug scandal in a small town in Kentucky. But then, she thought wearily, some things know no boundaries.
Turning back toward her office, she walked inside, sat down behind her desk and took a moment to admire her surroundings. Always a woman who preferred beauty whenever possible, she’d painted her office walls a soft, dreamy blue, and had hung white, lacy curtains at the windows. Framed watercolors—some by local artists—hung on the walls, and two crystal vases held cheerful bouquets of simple flowers. The daisies, carnations and peonies brightened the room, and their combined fragrance scented the air like summer perfume. A Bokhara rug in shades of crimson and gold covered the plain, serviceable carpet and was the perfect backdrop for her Queen Anne desk.
Naturally, most of the other offices at the clinic weren’t quite so lavishly appointed. But Lily was a big believer in making your workspace comfortable. If she enjoyed pretty things, why shouldn’t she bring them in to brighten up her office?
A china tea service sat on the library table beneath the window, where sunlight dazzled through the lacy sheers to form dainty patterns across the carpet. Easing back in her maroon leather chair, Lily toed her heels off, lifted her legs and propped her feet on the corner of her desk. She wiggled her toes and nearly sighed at the relief. Fashion could be a killer, she mused.
Lifting one hand to push her hair back from her face, she set the charms on her heavy, platinum bracelet jangling.
“I always know when you’re around,” a deep voice said from the open doorway, “you’re like a cat with a bell around its neck.”
Lily’s stomach jumped and she almost pulled her feet down off the desk, but just managed to stop herself. What would be the point of pretending dignity when the man had already seen her?
Ron Bingham, Mari’s father, and currently the thorn in Lily’s side, took up most of the doorway. Leaning his right shoulder against the jamb, he stared at her as if he had all the time in the world.
Sharp, blue-green eyes bored into hers from across the room. His neat black hair was lightly sprinkled with gray at the temples, and he wore a flawlessly groomed beard and mustache. She’d never been a fan of beards, but as beards went, she had to admit Ron’s was handsome. He wore a pair of neatly pressed khaki slacks, dark-brown dress shoes and a starched-within-an-inch-of-its-life white, long-sleeved shirt. His tan jacket actually had suede patches at the elbows, and his solemn brown tie finished off the image of successful and yet somehow boring business man.
Although, she thought, despite his dismal taste in clothing, Ron Bingham could never actually be considered boring. He was far too irritating for that.
Lily propped her elbows on the arms of her chair and hoped her sleek, red skirt wasn’t drooping enough to give him a view of anything interesting. “So, you knew I’d be here because of the sound of my charm bracelet?”
“Yep.”
One-word answers.
So caveman.
So annoying.
And why, in this man, so attractive?
“Well,” Lily said, smiling, “aren’t you the world-class detective? Most people would have assumed I was here because of my name on the door.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t look any too happy about it.
“Clever woman.”
“Thank you.”
“Never cared for clever women.”
“Well,” Lily said, “color me crushed.”
He sighed and pushed away from the door. Folding his arms across an impressively broad chest, he tipped his head to one side and stared at her. “Is there any reason in particular we seem to swipe at each other all the time?”
“Because it’s fun?” Lily smiled, enjoying his discomfort. She supposed she should feel badly about that, but really, the man was so stuffy, he probably just stood his suits up in the corner every night rather than bothering with a closet. How he ever could have fathered a daughter as charming and sweet natured as Mari was simply beyond her. His late wife must have had all the charisma in the family gene pool.
Ron Bingham stared down at her and wondered why the hell he bothered. Why was it he always felt compelled to stop by this woman’s office when he was at the clinic? Why did he always allow himself to be drawn into a baiting contest?
Lillith, Lily, Cunningham was exactly the kind of woman he’d always avoided. Born into a wealthy family and living the kind of privileged life most people could only dream about, she appeared to trip through life with a studied indifference that simply confounded him. She had no plan. She had no work ethic. She had no…she had no business wearing bright red suits with short skirts and high heels that totally distracted a perfectly sane man.
When Mari first hired Lily as the new PR director for the clinic, Ron had expected to dislike the woman on sight. He’d assumed she’d roar into this tiny corner of Kentucky and proclaim it backwoodsy. Instead, she was dropping seamlessly into life here and, damn it, doing a good job with the clinic as well. Which only served to heighten his confusion.
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” she asked, and he hated that he noticed the deep timbre of her voice.
Telling himself to stop acting like a dumbstruck teenager, Ron got a grip on his roving thoughts and spoke up. “I’m here to pick up the list of people you’re inviting to the fund-raiser.”
One blond eyebrow lifted into a delicate arch over her steady brown eyes. “You’re a messenger now?”
He scowled at her. “Simply doing a favor.”
Lily smiled then, and he tried not to notice the wattage in that simple act. But when the woman turned on the juice, her whole face lit up and her eyes seemed to sparkle.
“I know,” she said. “Just teasing. Actually, I spoke to your mother this morning. I already sent a copy of the list to her.”
Ron frowned and wondered why in the hell his mother hadn’t bothered to tell him that this trip to the clinic was unnecessary. If he’d known, he could have stayed away and saved both himself and Lily the bother of yet another round in their game of one-upmanship.
She swung her legs off the edge of the desk in a graceful sweep that caught his attention despite his better judgment. But hell, he was male, wasn’t he? Only natural that he should notice a pair of shapely legs. And as she slid her feet into the high heels that did absolutely amazing things for her calves, he told himself there was nothing unusual about looking. It was touching that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow himself.
Not that he wanted to touch.
He groaned inwardly and focused his gaze on her big brown eyes instead. He wasn’t entirely sure which view was safer.
She stood up and her bold red suit seemed to cling to every curve. And, God help him, she had plenty of curves. She wasn’t very tall, no more than five-six or -seven, but every inch of her was solidly packed.
“I can give you another copy if you like…”
“Not necessary,” he said, already backing toward the door. Coward his brain whispered.
Damn right, he countered silently.
“If you’re worried about the clinic, you needn’t be,” she said.
Instantly Ron’s attention shifted to where it should, hopefully, remain. On business.
“You’ll forgive me if I go ahead and worry anyway.”
“Of course you will.”
The sigh behind her words had him asking, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She eased one hip onto the corner of her desk, perching gingerly against the antique furniture. “I only meant that people like you will worry whether there’s cause or not.”
“People like me?”
She lifted her left hand into a brief wave, and that bracelet of hers chimed musically. “You know, stuffy, stalwart types.”
Stalwart he could live with. Stuffy seemed a little…insulting.
“And you figure you know my �type’ quite well, do you?”
“Not hard to guess.”
Leave now, he thought. Leave before you get drawn into yet another contest of wills with a woman who had absolutely no “back-up gear” in her. Naturally though, he couldn’t do that.
“I’m fascinated,” he said dryly.
She smiled briefly. “Oh, I can see that.”
“Please, explain my �type.”’
She paused, watching him, and even the air between them hummed with expectation. Then she started talking.
“Okay…” She pushed off the desk and walked across her ridiculously expensive and out-of-place rug to stop just inches in front of him. “I grew up around people as sturdy as you, you know. So I speak from experience.”
“Can’t wait.”
One corner of her mouth twitched, and his gaze fastened on the curve of her lip, damn it.
“You always do what’s expected of you.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Just boring.”
“And boring is a crime?”
“Just tedious.”
“Oh,” he said, giving her a slow nod, “do go on.”
“All right.” She walked a slow circle around him, and Ron could have sworn he felt her gaze sweep him up and down as if he were an interesting slide show in a biology class. “You make decisions based on what’s best for �the family.’ Never any side trip into interesting…just a long, slow trip on the main highway. Go where you’re supposed to be and get there in the prescribed manner.”
He shifted position uncomfortably. She managed to make him sound like an automaton.
“And you prefer the side roads?”
“Of course.” She shrugged.
“Don’t you get lost?”
“See new territory, discover new things.”
“And you don’t believe in maps, then, either?”
“Maps.” She shook her head. “They’re for outlining the road, and what fun is that? You might as well stay at home and draw red lines on an atlas. If you’re not open to discovery, why go at all?”
“Are we still talking about stodgy, stalwart lives or have we moved on to summer road trips?”
“I said �stuffy’ not �stodgy’,” she corrected. “And isn’t life the same thing as a good road trip?”
“How do you figure?” Somehow he’d lost control of this conversation. That happened all too often around Lily Cunningham. She seemed to have her own sort of logic that defied description.
She stopped in front of him again and tipped her head back so that she was looking directly into his eyes. The soft scent of jasmine lifted from her hair, and before he could remind himself not to notice…he had.
“Everyone starts out on the same road. Some of us stay on the highway—some of us take the back roads.” She smiled again. “Just like life. Some of us never look away from the goal long enough to be sure there isn’t some other goal that would be just as good if not better. You miss a lot when you never get off the highway.”
“Maybe,” Ron said. “But you don’t run into many dead ends that way, either.”
Chapter Two
Ridiculous, but hours later Lily was still thinking about her conversation with Ron Bingham. There was simply something about the man. That could be good…or bad. But either way, he was spending far too much time in her thoughts.
Deliberately turning her mind away from him, Lily swung her leather bag over her shoulder and left her office for the day. Heading down the hall, she walked in step to the music drifting through the speakers. Passing through the waiting room, she smiled at a little boy holding up his scribbled drawing of what might have been a pony—if ponies were allowed six legs. Tired mothers and pregnant women still crowded the waiting room and Lily knew Mari wouldn’t leave the building until every last one of them had been seen and reassured. The woman really was a wonder, Lily thought, admiration flaring.
Dr. Mari Bingham was determined to make the clinic her grandmother had founded the best of its kind. Even that, though, wasn’t enough for Mari. The biomedical facility she wanted to build would not only bring needed jobs into Merlyn County, it would spearhead research into infertility and stem cells and other life-saving—though possibly controversial—areas.
Lily sighed as she stood in the center of the lobby and let her gaze drift from one woman to another as they read magazines or chatted. What were they thinking? Oh, she knew they’d come for prenatal care and that was all to the good. But Lily had also heard the talk flying around town. Gossip about Mari and her plans, and about the high-powered backers who’d pulled out their monetary support for the facility. There was just too much gossip, Lily thought. Of course, in a small town, you really couldn’t avoid it. Still, one would think that the very women Mari was working so hard to serve would be willing to defend her rather than talk about her behind her back.
Mari worked like a dog to make sure the women in this part of Kentucky could have good prenatal care—and a clean, welcoming place in which to give birth, whether the women wanted to use a midwife or a doctor. But sometimes, Lily told herself, it was the people who owed you the most who enjoyed talking you down. Maybe people just didn’t care to be beholden to anyone.
The chatter around her lifted and fell, then dropped away completely as she pushed through the glass door and stepped into the afternoon sunlight. The weather was close, as it had been all summer. Humidity made the air thick enough to chew. But beyond the misery of the heat, there was a clean freshness to the Kentucky mountain air that she’d never found anywhere else.
New York’s crowded streets with their racing pedestrians and noisy cabs seemed a world away, and Lily was glad for it. She’d needed this change. This chance to step off the treadmill and enjoy her life a little. The work at the clinic was challenging enough to keep her happy—while giving her time to explore the new world she found herself in.
She’d only been in rural Kentucky a few months, but already it felt like home. Here, no one cared if she wanted to walk barefoot down Main Street. There were no reporters ready to snap a picture of Lillith Cunningham being anything less than dignified. And, there was enough of a buffer zone between her and her family that Lily felt free, for the first time in her life.
Two or three pickup trucks dotted the parking lot, alongside a couple of minivans and a station wagon that looked to be on its last legs. Sunlight speared from the sky and glanced off the asphalt until heat waves shimmered in the air.
“Like walking with a wet electric blanket wrapped around you,” Lily muttered as she slipped out of her suit jacket and stepped out of her heels. The parking lot felt red hot against the soles of her feet and still it was more comfortable than walking another step on three-inch heels.
For all the problems crowding in on the clinic, Lily didn’t for a moment regret moving here. Binghamton, Kentucky, was as far removed from New York City as the moon was from the sun. Everything was different here. Even she was different.
All right, maybe not so different. But at least here, Lily thought, her differences fit right in. Growing up in an “old money” family, she’d been the black sheep almost from the moment of her birth. Born in the family limousine on the way to the hospital, Lily had never lived down her “undignified” entrance into the world. In fact, she’d pretty much done all she could to live up to it.
In high school she’d dyed her hair purple, worn her skirts too short and dated all the “wrong” boys. She drove too fast, listened to what her parents called “appalling” music and took part in protest marches. By the time she left home for college, Lily could have sworn she could actually hear the stately old Boston family home breathe a sigh of relief. Heaven knew, her parents had.
At college things were different. At UCLA she’d discovered a whole new world. In California life was more relaxed, less rigid. There were fewer rules, and no one thought of wearing anything more formal than a pair of clean jeans. Lily had found a place where she fit in. She’d thrived on the distance from her caring, but stiffly formal family. She’d even fallen in love.
“But then,” she muttered as she hit the button on her keychain that would unlock her car, “nothing’s perfect.”
Her marriage hadn’t started out badly. Everything had been fine. Until the day a doctor told Lily she couldn’t have children. And just like that, it was over. Jack was packed and gone within the week—the divorce was final six months later.
Lily opened her car door and tossed her purse across to the passenger seat. Tilting her face up, she looked at the cloud-scattered sky and blew out a breath. The past didn’t matter anymore. Whatever paths she’d taken in her life, they’d eventually led her here. And that was all that mattered.
Sliding into her car, she jammed the key home, turned it and instantly flipped up the volume on her radio. An oldie but goodie came pouring out of the speakers and as Lily put the car in reverse, she started singing along.
She turned left out of the lot and headed toward downtown. In no rush to hurry home, she decided the heat of the day called for a reprieve. Driving to South Junction Burgers, she kept singing as she imagined getting her hands on one of the burger joint’s famous milkshakes.
The air-conditioning hit her like a slap, and Lily almost reeled with the impact. The diner felt like heaven. Only a handful of customers were inside, and Lily smiled at them as she headed back to her favorite…and luckily empty booth.
She slid onto the worn Naugahyde and didn’t even bother picking up one of the menus tucked between the sugar and the salt and pepper shakers. What would be the point? South Junction wasn’t fine cuisine. People came here for one reason.
“Hey, Ms. Cunningham.”
Lily smiled up at her waitress. “Hi, Vickie.”
Vickie Hastings had a mountain of blond hair, pulled up on top of her head and then lacquered into complete submission. Her blue eyes were lined heavily with black eyeliner, and her mascara had been layered on so thickly, she looked as if two caterpillars were taking naps on her eyelids. She snapped her gum and wore her short uniform dress way too tight, across breasts she seemed inordinately proud of, but she had a nice smile and was always friendly.
“The usual?” Vickie asked, pulling her pad and pen from her apron pocket.
Lily laughed. Good God. She was a regular at a diner. Her mother would be hysterical. And that cheered Lily a little. “You bet. Only tonight, make the milkshake strawberry for a change.”
Vickie chuckled. “I don’t know. Living dangerously. If you don’t have a chocolate shake on Thursday nights, the world might stop spinning.”
“Let’s risk it.”
“You got it.” Vickie filled out the order pad, but didn’t move away.
“Is something wrong?”
“Well.” The waitress threw a glance over her shoulder at the long counter behind her and the open pass-through to the kitchen where her boss was cooking. When she was assured no one was paying attention to her, she turned back to Lily and said, “Now that you mention it…”
The air-conditioning had done its job. Lily felt refreshed enough to handle whatever it was that had Vickie worrying her bottom lip. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m uh—” she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice “—pregnant.”
Lily blinked. This kind of news wasn’t usually delivered with all the stealth of a CIA man making a hand-off to his partner. “Congratulations?” she asked, unsure if Vickie was wanting to celebrate or commiserate.
“Thanks.” A brief smile curved Vickie’s mouth and then disappeared again a moment later. “Billy’n me’re real happy about it. But the thing is,” she leaned in even closer, and soon, Lily thought, the two of them would be nose to nose. “I was wondering. You work at the clinic.”
“Yes…” A flicker of irritation started at the base of Lily’s spine, and she told herself to fight it. She didn’t know what Vickie was going to say so there was no point in getting angry or defensive.
Yet.
“I wanted to ask you if going in there is really safe.”
There it was.
That tiny flicker of irritation became a flame and quickly jumped to an inferno as it climbed her spine, jittered her nerves and settled, unfortunately for Vickie, in Lily’s mouth.
“For heaven’s sake, Vickie!” Lily leaned back, but kept her gaze locked eyeball to eyeball with the younger woman. “You’ve known Mari Bingham all your life. And you can ask me something like that?”
Vickie’s expression tightened, and a flash of what might have been shame darted across her eyes, but it was gone again in an instant, so it was hard to be sure. “I’m just askin’,” she said, defending her right to badmouth an old friend. “There’s been talk.”
“There certainly has,” Lily snapped, then belatedly remembered to keep her voice down. She shot a quick look around the diner, then focused her gaze on Vickie again. “And its being spread by people too foolish or too ignorant to know any better.”
“Now, Ms. Cunningham…” Insulted, she straightened up.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Lily said, grabbing Vickie’s hand as the woman started backing off. “You asked me a question and you’re not leaving until you’ve had your answer.”
But Vickie was obviously regretting saying anything. Her gaze darted around the room, and even Lily could see that Danny, the cook and owner, was watching them from the kitchen. It didn’t stop her.
“Now, you listen to me, Vickie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Mari Bingham is the most dedicated, caring, loving person I’ve ever known. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever seen and she’s devoted herself to making sure you and every other woman in Merlyn County get the kind of care you deserve.”
“Yes.” Anxious now, Vickie was willing to agree to anything as she tried to pull her hand free of Lily’s grasp. She didn’t succeed.
“Any problems that are going on have nothing to do with Mari or her clinic and you should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking that they do.”
“Ms. Cunningham…”
But Lily’s temper was up and there was just no stopping her. Her voice dropped a notch, but none of the fury left it. “Do you really believe for one instant that Mari Bingham is dealing drugs?”
Vickie sucked in a breath, clearly horrified. “Course not, but—”
“No buts. Do you trust Mari? Do you know her?”
“Yes—”
“Then don’t you think you’ve answered your own question, Vickie?”
“I guess so, but still there’s—”
Lily’s eyes narrowed and Vickie shut up fast, keeping whatever she’d been about to say to herself. Just as well, Lily thought. It would do no good to browbeat the populace of Binghamton one at a time. For heaven’s sake, if they didn’t believe in one of their own, how on earth could she, an outsider, convince them? And Lily had no illusions about her status. She could live in Binghamton for the next fifty years and she’d always be considered an outsider.
Taking a deep breath, she blew it out again quickly, then forced a smile she didn’t feel and released her grip on Vickie’s wrist. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving the waitress’s hand a belated pat. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
“It’s okay,” Vickie admitted. “My Bill, he’s always saying I’m enough to drive a saint right out of Heaven.”
“Well,” Lily said with a short laugh, “I’m no saint.”
Vickie took an uneasy step backward but shared the laugh. “And the Junction sure isn’t Heaven.”
“Too true.” Lily smoothed her hair back from her face, then calmly and coolly folded her hands together on the scarred tabletop. “So, I guess I’ll be staying. Could I have that milkshake right away, Vickie. I think I could use a little cooling off.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I mean, yes, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As the younger woman scurried back toward the counter, Lily sucked in another deep breath and told herself she was going to have to take it easy. It wouldn’t help Mari’s or the clinic’s case at all if word got around that their PR director was running around town shouting at people who disagreed with her.
Damn it.
“That was well done.”
The deep voice came from the booth directly behind her, and Lily stilled completely. Only one man she knew had a voice as deep and rumbling as that. And wouldn’t you know he’d be sitting right behind her.
Shifting on the seat, she glanced over her shoulder and met Ron Bingham’s steady gaze. Really, his eyes were more blue than green, but most of the time they were just the shade of the ocean.
Which had nothing to do with anything.
“I suppose you heard everything.”
“You’re not exactly a quiet woman, Ms. Cunningham.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Do you have to do that?” she demanded.
“Do what?”
“Call me Ms. Cunningham.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “Your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’ve been here several months, now. Don’t you think you could break down and call me Lily?”
He leaned one arm on the seatback and stared at her. “Suppose I could.”
“That’s something, then.” Deciding to ignore him and the fact that no matter where she went he seemed to pop up like the proverbial bad penny, she turned around again.
“Alone, huh?”
His voice came from right behind her head, and Lily was half ready to swear she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Why that should give her goose bumps was something she wasn’t about to explore.
“There’s that keen detecting skill again,” she quipped and glanced at the counter where Vickie was pouring a strawberry milkshake into a tall, frosted glass.
“I’m alone, too.”
“I noticed.” Lily still didn’t look at him. For pity’s sake. Couldn’t a person get a milkshake in this town without a fuss?
“Want company?”
Vickie was on her way over and Lily took just a moment to turn around. She almost bumped her nose on his. He’d leaned in so close, he was practically draped over her shoulders. “Why do you want to sit with me?” she asked, and didn’t even care if that question came out a little more bluntly than she’d planned.
“You’re alone, I’m alone.” He shrugged.
“Joe Biscone’s alone, too.” She pointed to where a huge man in a plaid shirt and faded green fishing vest sat at the end of the counter.
Ron winced. “Lily,” he said, “sometimes there’s a reason people are alone.”
Her lips twitched. She didn’t want to smile, but damn it, he made it tough. He was so stiff, so serious, but the look on his face when she suggested he go sit by the man who always smelled like the bass he continually caught off the dock behind his house had been priceless.
“Here you go, Ms. Cunningham.” Vickie slid the pale-pink strawberry shake onto the table and then scuttled out of range as if afraid Lily was gearing up for round two.
Now it was Lily’s turn to wince. “Did you see that?” she asked, and didn’t wait for an answer. “That girl’s going to go home tonight and tell Billy and her mother and her mother’s hairdresser and the hairdresser’s cousin’s sister’s aunt’s best friend that mean old Ms. Cunningham yelled at her.”
“And that’s bad?” Ron asked.
“Of course it is.” Lily turned back around and dipped her long-handled spoon into the whipped cream on top of the shake. Taking a bite, she licked her lips and then said, “Don’t you think Mari’s got enough problems lately without me adding to them?”
Ron eased out of his booth. Then, grabbing his hamburger and cup of coffee, he moved and sat down on the bench seat across from Lily. He watched her for a long minute and simply remembered everything she’d said.
When Lily first slid into the booth behind him, he’d damn near groaned. All he’d wanted when he came to the Junction was a little peace and quiet. But the moment he heard that bracelet of Lily’s jangling and crashing like the cymbals in a brass band, he’d known his hope was a lost cause.
Then Vickie had started in with her whispering and gossiping, and it had been all he could do to keep from turning around and chewing the girl out. But he hadn’t gotten the chance. Before he could so much as open his mouth, Lily Cunningham had run to his daughter’s defense. He’d smiled as her words had rushed out, fast and furious—and yet, even while he enjoyed it, he’d known that she was doing nothing more than sticking her finger in the dike.
Vickie wasn’t alone in her love of gossip.
And thanks to Sheriff Bryce Collins and his insistence on treating Mari as though she were a common criminal, the whole damn town could talk of nothing else. Shamed Ron to think how much he’d always liked Bryce. How much he’d hoped at one time that Bryce and Mari would settle down together.
Just as well that hadn’t happened, he told himself now. Bryce had shown his true colors. If he couldn’t believe in Mari, then he damn sure hadn’t loved her.
“Do sit down,” Lily said, one corner of her mouth tilting into a smile that seemed to come back to haunt Ron far too often lately.
Why she was getting to him was a mystery. His wife Violet, God rest her, had been dead ten years—and in all that time he’d never once given another woman a single thought. Damn it, he’d loved Violet. She’d been everything to him.
Just keep that in mind and everything will be fine, he told himself and grabbed for his coffee. Taking a quick gulp, he nearly shrieked as the red-hot liquid ate a path down his throat. But the pain at least got his mind off Lily’s smile.
“About what you said.”
“I know,” Lily interrupted, holding up one hand. “I shouldn’t have shot my mouth off—”
“Thanks.”
Her mouth snapped shut. Her big brown eyes blinked at him in surprise. “What?”
He set his coffee down with a clatter. “You think it’s easy?” His voice whispered across the table as he leaned toward her. “Walking through town, watching people watch Mari. Talking about her, whispering? Hell, these people I’ve known my whole life. And all of a sudden, it’s like they’re strangers.”
Lily reached out, grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. The warmth of her touch slashed through him with all the subtlety of a lightning bolt. He pulled his hand back.
“They’re just people,” Lily said, shaking her head as she took another bite of whipped-cream-topped milkshake. “And people, in general, love to talk about someone else’s troubles.”
“True.” He flopped back against the seat and stretched his legs out, bumping into Lily’s neatly crossed ankles and then shifting guiltily away. “But this is Binghamton. I thought—”
“That because the town was named for you, your family would be gossip free?”
“Oh, hell—’scuse me—no.” He shook his head and smiled at the thought. “If anything, growing up a Bingham around here was like growing up in a fish tank. Everybody wanted to be the one to catch you skipping school or toilet papering the principal’s house.”
“So you already know what this is,” Lily said, picking up her straw and jamming it into the frothy pink ice cream.
“Sure. Human nature. The bigger they are, the more enjoyable the fall.”
“Exactly. But why,” Lily wondered aloud as she lifted the straw out and watched ice cream slide down and then drip into the glass, “does it seem to be that someone is actually going out of their way to make Mari look guilty?”
“You see it, too, do you?” Eager to hear someone else echo his own thoughts, Ron sat up straight again and automatically reached for his coffee.
“Of course. I’m not blind. How can you drink coffee when its so blistering hot outside?”
“I’m not outside.”
“Have some shake.”
“No.”
“Try it.”
He scowled at her. “I stopped drinking milkshakes when I was eighteen.”
“Wow.” Lily’s eyes widened dramatically. “I didn’t know you could outgrow milkshakes. Gee, what else? Sunshine? Rainbows?” She lowered her gaze to his plate. “I see that cheeseburgers are ageless.”
“Oh for—”
“You should probably break it to me gently,” Lily went on, scooping up another bite of ice cream, then licking her lips with a slow, thorough motion.
Ron’s stomach tightened, but damned if he could look away. “Break what to you?”
“What else is off-limits.” She waved her spoon in the air like a maestro with a baton. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to tempt you with anything else �unseemly.’ Lemonade, for instance, would that be all right?”
This is what he got for forgetting that Lily was crazy. “You are the most annoying woman….”
“Thank you,” she said. “Shake?”
“Give it here.”
She slid it across the table with a victorious grin, and he avoided meeting her eyes as he dipped his spoon into the frosty glass and pulled up a sizable portion of pink ice cream. The minute he put it in his mouth, flavor exploded. Icy cold chills raced along his spine and shot back up to his brain. The taste, the smell, the feel of the ice cream melting on his tongue, unlocked memories he hadn’t dusted off in years. Summer nights. Picnics.
Sweet times with Violet.
And just the thought of his late wife’s name was enough to remind him that he shouldn’t be sitting in the diner sharing a milkshake with Lily Cunningham. This wasn’t high school. It wasn’t a date.
He’d had his share of love, and now that part of his life was over.
Pushing the milkshake back across the table to her, he said, “Thanks. Better than I remembered.”
It was all better than he remembered. That sizzle of attraction, the hum of electricity in the air. And because he was enjoying himself, Ron felt guilty as hell.
Chapter Three
“I don’t understand,” Ron said a moment later when the awkward silence over the milkshake had passed. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all, but this had been bothering him for months. Every time he saw her, he wondered why she’d really come. And just how long she planned to stay.
“What?”
“What you’re doing here.”
“Eating dinner?”
“Clever. I meant here in Binghamton.”
“Well that’s blunt.”
“Yep.”
“You do that to annoy me, don’t you?” Lily asked, tilting her head to one side as she studied him. “The one-word answers, I mean.”
“Yep.” Hell, why should he be the only one irritated and annoyed? And something else, his mind whispered, but he paid no attention. If he noticed that her hair shone blond in the sunlight drifting through the plate-glass window, it was simply an observation. Right?
“That’s what I thought.” She paused, glanced up as the waitress delivered her hamburger and said, “Thank you, Vickie, it looks great.”
“Enjoy, Ms. Cunningham.”
Lily sighed. “She’s still worried that I’ll yell at her some more. Did you see how she walked backward from the table?”
He’d noticed. And he had a feeling a lot of people walked a wide path around Lily. Any woman who could go from calm and cool to red hot and blistering in a matter of seconds was one to keep an eye on. “Could be she was treating you like a queen.”
Lily laughed outright. “More likely she was afraid I’d jump at her.” She shook her head and on a disgusted sigh, added, “You’d think I’d be able to control my temper better after all these years.”
“Everyone’s got a temper.”
“Not everyone uses it.”
True. Most folks played the game of being nice while biting their tongue to keep the angry words inside. For himself, he much preferred a good flash of temper. Truth usually spilled out then, and he’d rather know exactly where he stood with a person than to have to try to guess.
He nodded at her as he watched her slather ketchup on her hamburger bun and then drizzle a river of it across still-steaming French fries. She’d never struck him as the ketchup type, Ron thought. There was more “caviar and champagne” about her than “beer and pretzels.”
“I’m better than I used to be though,” she said, piling tomato, onion, pickles and lettuce onto the open-faced burger before slapping the other half of the bun down on top of it all.
“Yeah?” Fascinated now, he watched as she tipped the hamburger over, took off the bottom half of the bun and used her knife to spread potato salad on the toasted surface.
“Oh yes.” Unaware of his scrutiny, she kept talking while she smoothed on another layer of potato salad. “When I was younger, I’d pick up anything within reach and throw it at the closest victim when I was in the middle of a temper. I can tell you, my brothers learned to duck at an early age.”
“How many?”
“How many what?” She put the other tomato on top of the potato salad and then slapped the bun back into place at the bottom of the burger.
He shook his head. The burger was so high now, he didn’t know how she’d ever be able to get a bite. “Brothers.”
“Three.”
“Uh-huh. Do you always do that?”
“What?” She held the big burger in both hands, took a huge bite, then set the burger down and, laughing, picked up her napkin and held it in front of her face while she struggled to chew.
“Pile all that stuff on your hamburger. You probably can’t even taste the meat anymore.”
She chewed, held up one hand and when she’d swallowed, she said, “Of course you can. And why bother having the fixings for a burger if you don’t use them? It’s terrific. You should try it.”
“Potato salad on a hamburger?” Ron winced. “No thanks.”
“You’ll eat it with a hamburger though?”
“Sure.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I eat ’em separately.”
“Here’s a secret, Ron,” she said, grinning now at his perplexed expression. “All the food you eat ends up together, anyway. There are no separate compartments in your stomach—you know, one for tomatoes, one for meat, one for potato salad.”
“You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”
“I don’t hear you laughing.”
“I’m laughing on the inside.”
“And crying on the outside?” she asked. “Not very attractive.”
“Do you see tears?” He held up both hands as if he were surrendering to a man with a gun. “Never mind. Don’t bother. Don’t say anything more. Your mind’s on one of the weird tracks again, isn’t it?”
She grinned. “Tom, Dan and Howard.”
“Huh?”
“My brothers,” she said, taking another, smaller bite. “You asked about them before.”
Hell, Ron could hardly remember what they’d been talking about. How could anyone keep up with the way this woman’s mind worked? “You just jump onto whatever conversational track feels right at the time, don’t you?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Right. Where are they now?”
She shrugged, but he thought he caught a glimpse of something less casual sparkling in her eyes. “In Boston.”
“That where you’re from?”
“Nope.” She picked up two French fries and swirled them through a pool of ketchup before popping them into her mouth. “I’m from Binghamton.”
He smiled. Damn it, he didn’t want to like her, but it was hard not to. “Before here, then.”
“Originally Boston, then Los Angeles, then New York, then…here.”
This is exactly what bothered him, Ron thought. She’d been everywhere, lived everywhere. Why in the hell would she come to a spot-in-the-road town like Binghamton? And why would she want to stay? She’d grown up in a world of privilege and now he was supposed to believe that she was going to be happy slurping down milkshakes and building burgers at South Junction?
No way.
She wouldn’t last.
And then what would Mari do?
All of his daughter’s friends were backing away from her. She’d lost a lot of her big financial backers for the research lab already. And with talk spreading, chances were good she’d be losing more. His own mother had been on the phone only that morning, arguing with a banker from Lexington. But it seemed gossip traveled pretty damn well.
The word was out.
Something was going on at the clinic and Mari Bingham wasn’t to be trusted.
A fresh wave of anger crested inside him, and Ron was half surprised the top of his head didn’t just blow off. Hearing his daughter talked about and whispered over as if she were a criminal was enough to make his blood boil. But there was only so much a father could do.
Mari’s world was crumbling around her, and for some reason she was convinced that Lily Cunningham was going to help her turn the tide. Well, Ron wasn’t. Even the best PR people couldn’t fight all the insidious whispers and the fears and suspicions of the very people they were trying to hose for money.
Besides, a woman society born and raised couldn’t be without society for very long. One of these days, Lily’d be off, leaving Mari high and dry, and he’d have to find a way to cushion the blow for his daughter.
“Why come here?” he asked tightly, getting back to the original conversation.
“I was invited.”
“Must be more to it than that.”
Lily set her burger down and reached for her shake. After taking a sip, she lifted her left hand to push her hair behind her ear. That bracelet of hers chimed musically.
“I wanted a change,” she said. “I wanted to live somewhere that wasn’t made of concrete.”
That much he could understand. Ron could no more leave the mountains permanently than he could sprout wings and fly. He had to be where the sky was huge, the trees were green and a man could walk miles in the forest without running into another soul.
But Lily Cunningham just didn’t seem the kind of woman to appreciate the simpler things in life.
“You look like you don’t believe me,” she said, and tipped her head again, studying him through big brown eyes that looked to him like warm, milk chocolate.
“Not sure I do.”
“Fortunately for me, Mari does.”
“Mari’s a nice girl.”
“Finally. Something we can agree on.”
He leaned back in his seat and watched her as she dug into her burger again. Something about her bothered him, and he really couldn’t put his finger on what it was. But as she ignored him and ate her dinner, he remembered how she’d leaped to Mari’s defense. How she’d read Vickie the riot act and forced the waitress to admit that Mari just wasn’t the kind of woman her enemies were making her out to be.
A surge of gratitude rushed through him, swamping the mistrust that still echoed inside him. Lily had defended his child and Ron had responded by skewering her. What did that say about him?
Hell, if his mother were here, she’d give him that fish-eyed glare she used to use on him when he was a kid.
“Look,” he said, giving in to the urge to make amends, “I want you to know how much I appreciate you standing up for Mari the way you did.”
Blond eyebrows lifted. “How hard was that?”
“What?”
“To be nice to me.”
He frowned and reached for his own burger. Less decorated than hers, it was still tasty and sitting there getting cold. “Wasn’t hard.”
“Then one would think you’d be able to pull it off more often, wouldn’t one?”
“One might.”
Her lips twitched. “A hardheaded man.”
“That’s been said before.”
“I’m not surprised.”
He took a bite of his burger then chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “I’m not sure about you, Lily Cunningham.”
She smiled and winked at him. “Good.”
“Good?”
“If you were sure of me, I’d be predictable. Boring.”
“Stuffy?” He prodded, reminding her of the word she’d used to describe him.
Apparently she remembered very well what she’d called him, because she looked at him now and grinned. Her brown eyes sparkled and good humor fairly shimmered in the air around her. “Oh, very few people can pull stuffy off with any degree of success.”
“And I’m one of them?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, thoughtfully as she reached for her shake again. “But I see a glimmer of hope shining around you, Ron Bingham.”
“Is that so?” She kept twirling the straw through the ice cream, drawing his gaze to her red polished nails and the sapphire ring on her right hand.
“Oh yes.” She sucked at her straw, and Ron told himself not to notice the pucker of her full lips. For all the good it did him. “With a little bit of effort,” she said, “you could be destuffied.”
“Not even a word.”
“It is if I say it is.”
He smiled in spite of his efforts not to. “The de-stuffifying process sounds painful.”
“It won’t hurt a bit.”
Ron wasn’t too sure of that. He had a feeling that spending too much time with Lily could potentially be very painful. She made him think too much. Feel too much. Dream too much.
And for a man who’d been emotionally asleep for ten long years, waking up was not only painful…it was dangerous.
Over the weekend, Lily had had every intention of washing her car and then planting new flowers in the pots outside her front door. Well, the car was still dirty, but there were a few empty nursery pots scattered at her feet.
She sighed, tipped her head back and stretched the kinks out of her back while staring up at the cloud-covered sky. Looked as though a storm might be coming in and she found herself hoping it would happen. Not only did she enjoy the fabulous light show of electrical storms, but rain might take the edge off the humidity.
Smiling to herself, she bent down, blew her hair back out of her face and grabbed the sides of the huge, terra-cotta pot and gave it a pull.
It didn’t budge.
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” She stood up, frowned at the damn thing, then bent over to give it another yank. Still nothing. Although she was pretty sure she’d felt something in her back yell “uncle.”
“Maybe I should have put the pot on the steps first.” She shook her head, disgusted at her own lack of foresight. “Brilliant, Lily. Really brilliant.”
Purple, red and white petunias billowed over the edges of the pot and tumbled along the sides in wild profusion. They looked cheerful—and for the moment—healthy. Of course, they wouldn’t look that way for long.
Lily had a black thumb.
Every plant she’d ever bought had died a horrible death. She either underwatered or overwatered—didn’t seem to matter. She swore that when she walked through the local nursery choosing plants, you could almost hear the flowers shrieking, Not me, don’t take me!
She loved having flowers in her yard. Loved coming home to their color and scent. She simply had no talent for it. But that had never stopped her from trying.
“Until now,” she muttered, kicking the side of the heavy pot. Her white tennis shoe didn’t protect her toe, which only served her right, she thought as she hopped indelicately and bit down on her lip to keep from cursing.
It was a terrible habit, and she’d tried to put a lid on her foul language, especially since she’d moved into this neighborhood that was absolutely crawling with children. On that thought, she forgot about the stubborn pot and turned around to look out at the tree-shaded street. The Johnson twins, age seven, were popping caps with a hammer on their curb. Lily shook her head. Any moment now, one or both of them would be crying and sucking on a smashed finger. The Danville girl, at nine, was concentrating on a fierce game of hop-scotch—who knew kids still played that?—with her best friend. A couple of doors down, thirteen-year-old Kevin Hanks was busily mowing lawns for spending money.
Lily glanced at her own grass. Time to hire Kevin again before the neighbors started complaining. Honestly, moving to a house had been such a change from her loft apartment that sometimes she was just overwhelmed by it all. But bottom line—it was worth it. She loved having her own home. A place she could decorate or not. A place where she could practice her scandalously bad gardening skills. A place where she could sit on the front porch and listen to the sounds of children’s laughter.
A tiny ache pierced her heart, and she lifted one hand to her chest as if she could somehow smooth it away. Lily sighed a little as old dreams drifted through her mind and then dissolved again. She’d always wanted a family. Children of her own. But when she’d found out that wouldn’t be happening, she’d tried to make peace with it.
At first she’d thought of adoption. Then when her husband had left her, she’d let go of that thought as well. It hadn’t been common at that time for single women to adopt, and after the disaster of her marriage, getting married again wasn’t even a consideration. So Lily’d forgotten about her old dreams and had tried to build new ones.
Generally speaking, she’d done a hell of a job. Top of her game in the PR business, she’d had everything that most people worked their whole lives for. And she’d tossed it aside without a second thought the moment she’d had a chance to come here.
“It was a good choice,” she said, speaking aloud to make sure her subconscious heard her. “No matter what, it was a good thing, moving here.”
With that she turned around to face her enemy again. The overflowing pot of petunias that would, most likely, remain on the sidewalk for all eternity…or until the latest flowers died and she could empty the dirt and start over. “There’s just no way I’m gonna be able to move you.”
“Need some help?”
Surprise had her spinning around, and her heart had already done a weird little twist and roll before she realized the man talking to her wasn’t Ron Bingham. That in itself was a surprise. Every time she turned around lately, that man was there. As if he were keeping a wary eye on her.
But today, she had the police strolling up her front walk. Or at least, the sheriff. Bryce Collins gave her a quiet smile, and she forced herself to return it. He seemed a nice enough man. Tall and broad-shouldered, his gray eyes were always calm and steady, as if he could reassure people with a simple glance. And maybe that worked on most people.
However, it wouldn’t be working on Lily. Bryce Collins was going after Mari. Making it seem to the people of Binghamton that she was actually guilty. And from what she’d heard, he should have known better. Mari and Bryce had been as good as engaged several years ago—until Mari had gone off to medical school.
And maybe Bryce was just nursing a grudge, but whatever his reason, it seemed ridiculous to Lily that he could suspect a woman he’d once loved.
“Was driving by. Saw you kick that pot,” he was saying in a soft, amused tone. “Figured you might want a little help moving it.”
Lily stared at him for a long minute. Across the street, the Johnson boys were still snapping caps, the sharp, staccato bursts of sound like an overgrown clock ticking off seconds. Kevin’s lawnmower hummed in the background, and at the end of the block a car engine revved. A perfectly ordinary summer day.
Except for the fact that she had the town Sheriff offering to play landscaper.
“Shouldn’t you be out arresting Mari or something?” she snapped and instantly regretted it. Antagonizing the man was not the way to win him over to the truth.
Bryce’s gray eyes narrowed, full lips thinned into a grim slash across his face. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“I’m sorry,” Lily said quickly, lifting one dirt smudged hand to smooth her hair back from her face. “I tend to say whatever I’m thinking and, believe me, that’s gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years.”
His expression didn’t soften. “Can’t imagine why.” Sarcasm dripped off every word, and Lily winced.
“Right. Look.” She took a step forward, ignoring the ache in her toe. “You seem like a nice, intelligent, reasonable man…”
“But?”
“But—” Lily threw both hands high and let them slap down to her thighs “—I do not understand how a reasonable man could possibly suspect Mari of anything criminal.”
“Ms. Cunningham, I’m—”
“Lily.”
He caught himself, nodded and said, “Lily. I’m not going to discuss an ongoing investigation with you. That’s police business.”
“Investigation.” She snorted the word. “That you should be investigating Mari at all is criminal.”
He tensed and that muscle in his jaw twitched again.
“Fine,” she said, “we won’t talk about it. But you should be doing some serious thinking, Sheriff.”
Finally, a flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Is that so?”
“Yes. You should be thinking about who would want to make Mari look guilty.”
Amusement fled, and once again his gray eyes were steady and cool. He met her gaze for a long, silent moment before he said, “Trust me, ma’am. I’m doing a lot of thinking.”
Lily watched him closely. There was more here than met the eye. Despite how it might look to the rest of the town, Lily now had the distinct impression that a large part of Bryce Collins knew damn well that Mari wasn’t involved in the drug ring. His problem was, she guessed, that being sheriff, he was forced to run down every possibility.
Whether he believed it or not.
Lily nodded slowly, took a deep breath and then let it out again. “Okay, Sheriff,” she said softly, “I will trust you.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Thanks.”
“For now,” she added, just so he would know that if she thought he was barking up the wrong tree again, she’d be right there to tell him so.
He smiled and gave her a look of approval. And Lily thought that once this whole mess was behind them, she and Bryce Collins might be able to be friends.
“So,” he said. “You want some help moving that pot?”
They might have their differences, but Lily was no dummy. Why turn down a big, strong man when he’s offering help? “You get that pot up onto the porch—and the matching one, too—and I’ll pour iced tea.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Bryce walked to the first pot and stared down at the rioting petunias. “Look real pretty, don’t they?”
“Yes,” Lily said on a resigned sigh. “But that’s only because they don’t realize just how close death is.”
“Does anybody?”
“Guess not,” she said, shivering as a small chill crawled along her spine. “I’ll go get that tea.”
Chapter Four
Ron thought he was just a little too old to be staying up all night thinking about a great pair of legs and big brown eyes.
Apparently, though, his body didn’t agree.
Damn it, Lily Cunningham was making him nuts. And that wasn’t an easy thing to pull off. He was known throughout Kentucky as one hardheaded son of a bitch. When it came to business, Ron wrote the book on how to be focused. How to win by wearing your opponent down. How to never surrender. Never let the other guy see you sweat.
Well, he was sweating now.
And it had nothing to do with business.
Maybe it had to do with being trapped in the damn condo he’d thought was such a great idea a year ago. Smaller than the house he’d shared with Violet—the place where they’d raised their kids and laughed and loved—the condo was supposed to be easier on him. No memories to cloud his mind. No mementos of years gone by to tug at his heart and make his soul ache.
Instead, the place bugged the hell out of him.
For the exact reason that there were no memories there. It was empty. Devoid of character, charm, life. It was a place to sleep and eat and escape. It wasn’t his home. He’d lost his home when he’d lost Violet.
Grumbling to himself, Ron sipped his coffee and moved out through the French doors to the balcony leading off the small dining room. The trees were still dripping water from last night’s storm. Drops fell in a staccato rhythm from shiny green leaves and sounded like dozens of heartbeats.
How long had it been since there’d been another heartbeat in his house, he wondered. But he didn’t even have to guess. He knew exactly how long. Since Violet died ten years before.
Oh, he was no monk. He’d never been the kind of man to go for long stretches without the company of a woman. Most of his life that woman had been Violet. After she died, it had taken nearly a year for him to find the heart or the energy to seek out company. There’d been dinner dates and country weekends. But he’d never taken any of his dates to the house he’d shared with Violet. It would have seemed like a betrayal of everything they’d shared.
And once he’d moved out and sold that house—leaving behind the gardens Violet had tended with such loving care—he’d gone on as he had been. There were still dates and weekends and women. But none of them had meant enough to him to bring them into his home.
He’d never even considered it. So why, he wondered, was he imagining Lily here? He could almost see her, standing on the balcony and looking out over the forest behind the condo. If he tried hard enough, he could almost see the morning breeze lift her blond hair off the collar of the pale-green silk robe he imagined her in.
“Perfect,” he muttered thickly. Now not only was she invading his dreams at night…she was stomping through his daydreams as well. Guilt stabbed at him, and he felt like a cheating husband, which he knew damn well was ridiculous.
He took a sip of the too-hot coffee and watched a pair of squirrels race across the ground and chase each other up the trunk of a gnarled pine. “Hell, even the squirrels have more of a life than I do.”
Wincing at the sound of self-pity in his voice, Ron gave a quick look around the emptiness surrounding him, as if reassuring himself there’d been no witnesses. Nope. He was safe.
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