Her Tie-Dyed Heart Page 11

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  Sweat dripped down the side of Annie’s neck. A single wet line crossed her collarbone, slid into the round collar of her shirt and lower, between her breasts. Her hair, pulled into an untidy heap on the top of her head, was damp. Even the shorts felt sticky, and they were only a thin layer of white cotton.

  When she insisted she’d paint the shop, she had no idea that painting could be such hard, sweaty work. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have given in to Clarisse’s idea they ask Steve to do it.

  The temperatures had risen steadily all week, turning the pleasant ocean breezes into steaming bursts of hot air. The first scorcher of the season had hit with a vengeance. Locals predicted it would end soon, probably with a bone-shaking thunderstorm.

  Annie was ready for thunder and lightning. It had to be better than this walking-through-hell heat.

  “Hey.”

  The voice. She knew it.

  The shop’s doors were wide open, to let in any little breeze and chase out the paint fumes. Evidently he’d made use of the open-door policy.

  She sucked in a breath and turned to face him. Steve stood just inside the doorway, hands in pockets of tight jean shorts. His Woodstock t-shirt was holey, giving peeks at the muscular abdomen that it hid.

  Staring at him felt foolish. “Hey. We’re…ah, we’re not open yet.”

  Steve’s gaze canvassed the space. Shelves had been washed and polished. Windows shone and the lingering scent of Clarisse’s special vinegar cleanser mingled with Dutch Boy number 43—Springtime Yellow. The cheery paint, subdued but uplifting, made it look twice its size. All in all, the week’s progress worked like a charm on a place abandoned for so long. There was no evidence of neglect now, only the possibility of something new and exciting.

  They still had a long way to go to get everything ready before the weekend, though.

  “Place looks great. You’ve done a lot of work.” Steve looked around, bending to peer beneath the open display counter on the far side of the room. He met her gaze. “Your little helper? She’s not a painter?”

  “She’s at the house with Clarisse. It’s too hot, and the day will be too long, to keep her here with me. Besides, I think those two have a blast on their own. They’re probably eating ice cream for lunch or doing macramé on the porch in their bathing suits—”

  Bathing suits—the last time she’d worn hers, he’d gotten an eyeful. Annie swallowed her words. Her cheeks grew hot.

  If he noticed, he pretended he didn’t. Steve cleared his throat.

  “Listen, I think it’s probably good she’s not here. I need to talk with you.”

  He waited. When she didn’t reply, he went on.

  “Look, I know I’ve been behaving like…well, like a jerk. I dropped you like a hot potato last week. Avoided you all this week. And, I, ah…the other night, at the house…”

  “I know Clarisse asked you to stop by. I didn’t know it then, but she did tell me later…after you, um…you know.”

  He raised an eyebrow and nodded appreciatively as one edge of his upper lip lifted at the corner. A to-die-for expression if ever there was one. Annie bit her tongue. Better to stand quietly while a man was busy apologizing—and appreciating.

  “Right…so, you know I’m not a Peeping Tom. That’s a step in the right direction, at least. I didn’t know you’d be there. If I did I wouldn’t have just shown up that way. Actually, I expected the place to be empty—that’s the impression I got when I was asked to check out the work and come up with an estimate.”

  Annie was sure Clarisse wasn’t beyond a bit of matchmaking so she believed him.

  “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here, Steve? You made it clear the other night that you couldn’t wait to get away from me. And in the store—well, what you do is your own business but it’s obvious you already have someone in your life.”

  “Norah is my best friend Ronnie’s little sister. Ronnie is away, over in the fighting, and I just thought it would be good for her to get out and have some fun. Her boyfriend—excuse me, fiancé—is over there too. And, no one’s heard from either of them in about a month.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he shrugged. “That’s what that was, with Norah. Nothing more.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend. Maybe he’s just in a spot where they can’t get mail out yet.”

  “That’s what we’re hoping.”

  Annie’s stomach dropped, thinking about all the men who were, even at this very minute, dying horrible deaths. Images shot through her head, images she struggled daily to keep at bay. The lump in her throat, so familiar these days, made speaking difficult.

  She met his gaze, knowing full well her eyes glistened.

  “Why, then? Why are you here? So Norah’s a friend’s kid sister—that still doesn’t erase the fact that you cut our date short without any explanation. And I’m an idiot, because I thought the night was going really well. I was having a nice time with you. The moonlight, conversation, wine, boat…it was great. And then, just like that, it ended. So why? Why are you here?”

  Her head felt strange. Maybe it was the heat. Or the paint fumes. Or the reminder of what a shitty world they lived in, where good men died for no good reason. Was there ever a good reason to die? She didn’t know…but the fogginess creeping into her mind made thinking almost impossible.

  Maybe she should have had something to eat before heading out to paint. Maybe…

  Crap. Maybe Steve would just leave already so she could sit down before she made a fool of herself.

  “You’re right, it was great. Beyond great, even.”

  He plowed his fingers through his hair, and she noticed, not for the first time, that the waves fell naturally into place. Such an appealing package—except that he didn’t feel the same way about her…

  “So why, then? Why did you turn it off so fast? What the hell happened?”

  More importantly, what the hell was happening? Annie put the paintbrush down on a nearby shelf. The yellow would leave a smear on the wood, but she didn’t care.

  “What happened? I-I—shit, I saw how you reacted to the news about the guy washing up on the beach. I realized that you would feel the same disdain for me when you learned the truth. I—hell, I just figured it was better to…I don’t know…”

  “What truth?”

  The words felt fuzzy in her mouth. It was hard to talk with a tongue that felt fat. She rubbed it against her teeth, hoping to make it return to its normal size but it didn’t help.

  “The truth about why I’m not in Vietnam. About why I’m the only guy here under the age of fifty besides Big Al. The truth that will probably make you hate me.”

  “Hate you? Why would you say something like that?”

  Were her words slurred or was she imagining it?

  “Yeah, hate me. Your husband fought, and here I am, doing odd jobs and trying to atone for my being let off the hook. I hate it—don’t you get it? I hate it, and sometimes I hate myself, too. So why would you not hate me when I tell you I’m not fighting this freaking war like everyone else because snooty Bar Harbor doctors say I can’t?”

  She scrunched up her face, trying to make sense of his explanation. He’d lost her in the jumble of hates and war talk, but the doctor bit really messed with her head. Annie let her gaze drop, gave him a slow, penetrating assessment. Broad chest. Wide shoulders. Killer abs leading into tight denim…her gaze lingered. Then, she forced herself to go lower to the muscular thighs and down to the feet before she swept back up and met his stare.

  “You can’t come up with a better story than that? Do I look like a fool? Steve, you’re the perfect specimen of a man if ever there was one! I don’t know why you’re not fighting—I hadn’t given it much thought, really—but trying to say that’s the reason for treating me like Hanoi Jane…well, couldn’t you come up with something better? Something…something believable…something…oh…”

  The floor came up so quickly Annie didn’t have time t
o react before the world went black.

  Chapter 19

  Annie crumbled like a house of cards in a stiff breeze. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her knees buckled, and before he could cross the ten feet separating them, she went down. The dull thud as she whacked her head on the side of one wooden display cabinet was one of the most frightening sounds he’d ever heard.

  The paintbrush had fallen on top of her, landing wetly on the front of Annie’s shirt. He pushed it off, his hand sweeping across her left breast. Pulling her body up from the waist, he wondered for an instant if it were wrong to move her. But the desire to tug her close, check her over and wake her threw caution to the wind.

  Her breath was strong and steady. He put a finger on her neck, checking for a pulse the way they did on Marcus Welby, MD but all he felt was soft, warm skin. Clammy, but no pulse. Steve laid his hand on the center of Annie’s chest, between her breasts. The steady thump of her heart was reassuring. He pulled his hand away, not because he wanted to but because he knew it was the right thing to do. If he had his way, his hand and head would lay up against the woman in his arms for a long, long time without ever moving.

  Now what? Putting her back on the floor, even to call for help, was out of the question. Watching her fall had been hard enough. Putting her into the prone position again? Something he couldn’t do, not in the shop, anyway.

  His bed? Now that was a whole other option… He’d lay her prone on his mattress any day of the week. Any day.

  Steve wondered if he should loosen her clothing. On television the guy who passed out always had a tie loosened, but Annie wasn’t wearing a tie. In fact, she was wearing very little. Just the tiny top and skimpy shorts. Up close, he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, even. The white top wasn’t totally sheer, but it was light enough that her nipples showed plainly through the fabric.

  He was only a man. It never occurred to him not to enjoy the sight of those two coral-colored tips poking at the filmy cotton. He’d always been more an ass and legs guy but that could change. Annie’s breasts were an invitation to fondle and stroke. He wondered what she sounded like when she climaxed. Was she silent, keeping her pleasure to herself? Or more vocal, giving the man in her bed a blow-by-blow?

  His body reacted. The heat in his gut spread lower, moving to places that hadn’t been used much in a while. All the no-commitment stuff was great in theory, but Steve wasn’t the kind of guy to have nameless encounters with women he didn’t plan to see again. The erection pushing against the buttons on his cut offs throbbed, reminding him of its long solitary confinement.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Her voice was soft.

  There was no use denying he’d been ogling her while she lay out cold in his arms, so he didn’t try. He just hoped to hell his cock would get the hint that now was not a good time to be calling attention to itself.

  Steve met her gaze. Her eyes looked fine, if a bit sleepy. The pupils were normal, and the look she gave him wasn’t fuzzy, the way it had been just before she’d gone down.

  He gave her a slow, small grin. “Not the way I generally get a woman in my arms, I’ll tell you that much.”

  One eyebrow shot up.

  Good, so she was with it. Still, better to keep her from jumping to her feet, so Steve shifted slightly, trying not to poke her with his crotch while he moved. He lowered his butt to the floor, bent his knees, and made himself into a human chair so she could be comfortable, and a bit more elevated.

  Annie looked in no hurry to move, settling her back against his inner thigh. His skin brushed hers, which did absolutely nothing to diminish the party in his pants.

  “I bet it’s not your best move. You’ve probably got some smooth moves, don’t you, Steve?”

  He chuckled, loving it that she grinned up at him.

  “Oh yeah, I’ve got women falling at my feet right and left. I can hardly walk, there’re so many chicks passed out in front of me.”

  Annie shook her head, grimacing slightly. “I did not fall at your feet.”

  “Yeah, you did. But that hurts, doesn’t it?”

  A lump, small but unmistakable, grew on her left temple. He pressed it gently with two fingertips. She moaned and pulled away.

  “Ouch. What’d I hit, anyway?”

  The nearest hospital was in Bar Harbor. He didn’t mind running Annie over there, but taking her on his bike would be dangerous, given the fact she could swoon again at any time.

  “The cabinet. Pretty hard, to get a bump like that.”

  “Why didn’t you catch me?”

  “I tried, but I didn’t get here fast enough.” Now he really felt like shit. “Sorry.”

  She put a hand on the side of her head, but managed a weak smile. “Don’t be. I was only teasing you. Believe me, I’m way past the point where I expect anyone to catch me. If I’m falling, I’m either going down or catching myself. That’s the story of my life, I’m afraid. Damn, this hurts.”

  There was no good reply to the statement, although it tore at his heart. No one should feel so alone that they didn’t have anyone to rely on…easy to think for someone else when he was pretty much in the same lonely, self-sufficient boat.

  Before he moved her, he had to ask. “Does anything else hurt?”

  She shook her head, then scowled. “No. Just my head.”

  “It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?”

  “I hate to be a crybaby, but yeah, it does.”

  “Let’s get you moved over to the wall. Just a couple of inches, so you can lean back.” Annie’s slight figure was a cinch to move. When he was sure she was propped up against the wall and not likely to fall over, he held out a hand. “Your car keys.”

  Her eyes rounded. She stopped rubbing her temple.

  “What?”

  He knew it was going to be a challenge. “I need your car keys. It’s not out front, so I assume you parked in the back lot. I’m going to bring it around. Then we’re going to get you into the car and over to the hospital.” When Annie opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “Just to be checked out, Annie. You smacked your head pretty hard—we should let a doctor take a look and make sure you’re not hurt more than we know.”

  “But I don’t like hospitals.” Her voice was soft, and sad. “I hate them, really.”

  The look in her eyes said there was more to the story than just not liking the setting but now wasn’t the time to ask. They all had skeletons in their closets, things that made them fearful and incited nightmares. Hospitals had to be right up there with killer clowns and snarling monsters on the universal list of fears.

  “We need to go.” He paused, then added, “And you won’t be alone. I’ll be right there—that is, unless you want me to call Clarisse to be with you. I understand if you don’t want me.”

  Annie didn’t answer right away. When she shook her head, it was a subtle movement. He noticed the swelling on her temple had increased. This was not the time for lengthy discussions; she needed medical attention.

  Thankfully, she didn’t make a fuss.

  “No, please don’t call Clarisse. I…I don’t want Sienna near a hospital. And I don’t want either of them to worry.” She swallowed hard. Her eyes shone when she met his gaze. “But I don’t think I can get there. I-I…I don’t think I can drive. My head is screaming.”

  He almost laughed at the absurdity of the statement. She was in no condition to walk, let alone get behind the wheel of a car.

  “You’re not going to drive. I am. Now, where are your keys so I can bring the car around?”

  A tear slid down Annie’s cheek. It was almost unbelievable that something so tiny could tear into a guy’s heart so hard.

  “No one’s ever driven the ’Cuda before except me and…”

  Steve wasn’t a praying kind of guy. Hell, he wasn’t even sure a higher power existed, despite the Irish Catholic upbringing he’d had. But if saying a prayer would help get this beautiful woman to cooperate…desperation breeds strange habits. He prayed. Then, he smi
led.

  “I figured as much.” His gaze swept the lump on her head, which was turning purple at a rapid rate. “Hey, what’s your husband’s name? I don’t think you ever told me.”

  She gave him a heart-melting smile. “Brian. His name was Brian.”

  “Look, I know this must be hard for you, but we need to get you to a doctor. I promise you that if you trust me, I’ll get you there in one piece. Nothing bad will happen if you trust me with the keys. I give you my word, I will take care of Brian’s car…and his wife.”

  Annie closed her eyes. She pointed toward the counter behind him.

  “Over there. Next to my purse. You’d better grab that, too.”

  Chapter 20

  Annie felt her head. Gingerly. Sucked in a breath. So, it hadn’t been a dream. The tender ping-pong ball attached to her temple was real.

  She looked across the bedroom to where her daughter slept. No Sienna. The child’s chore list included making her own bed, so it was pulled together haphazardly. She probably had been trying to be quiet, so the finished product was less tidy than usual, but at least it had been done.

  A smile crept across her face. Sienna was a good girl. A blessing. Being a mother was the toughest job in the world, but she loved every minute of it—even the messiest, noisiest, most frustrating ones.

  Closing her eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the window, Annie stretched. Wiggled her toes. Flexed her spine. It had been weeks since the yoga ritual she’d followed since Brian’s deployment had fit into her schedule. In the beginning she had practiced the poses to keep limber for childbirth. Then, following Sienna’s arrival, yoga had soothed her frayed nerves and calmed her broken spirit.

  She had been so busy with Clarisse and Sienna that she’d let her routine lapse. Now, she felt tighter than she had in years. What was the old wives’ tale about the caregiver being excellent at caring for others but the best at neglecting herself?

  Ugh. She’d become a fulfilled prediction. How ordinary…

  Maybe today she would begin yoga practice again. Nothing difficult, just a few beginner poses to get back into the swing of things. Downward Facing Dog. Cobra. Tree pose.