Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her Past\A Real Live Hero\In Her Corner (14 page)

She rounded the curve and spotted three of her neighbors coming her way. She'd dubbed them the supercilious trio, because the women thought themselves better than everyone else. They'd moved into houses formerly occupied by Helen's friends.

It was too late to turn around. They'd already seen her. She didn't need them now, not when her nerves were already frayed to the snapping point. Blanking her expression, she quickened her pace, nodding hello and hoping to pass without speaking. The women were twenty years younger than Helen and career focused like Madison. The few times she'd interacted with them at neighborhood functions they'd acted as if Helen was a housewife because she wasn't smart enough to be anything else.

And maybe she wasn't. She was certainly failing Danny. No. She had her priorities right. Her family had always come first. But if something happened to Danny, how would she support herself? It didn't help that Madison had said the same thing years ago when she'd tried to coerce Helen into going back to school.

But no, she wouldn't think that way. Danny would be fine.

Her neighbors wore perfectly coordinated exercise clothing and each looked as if she'd just stepped out of the salon. Helen hadn't even checked herself in a mirror before racing out. She'd been up since five this morning and hadn't checked her makeup since putting it on.

“How are the renovations coming?” one asked as they drew alongside. They all stopped, forcing her to do the same.

“The remodel's on hold for now.” They didn't know about Danny and she wasn't going to tell them.

“We were wondering how long the motor home would be parked in your driveway,” the second added.

“Until we no longer need it.” She laced the phrase with a saccharine smile.

“What's the holdup? Did you run out of money to pay the contractor?”

The insult snapped her spine as tight as a kite string. “Danny prefers to do the work himself. He's very skilled with his power tools and loves creating things when his busy practice allows him a few moments of free time.”

Since none of these women's husbands even owned a lawn mower, Helen doubted they could identify a power tool at the hardware store. It saddened her to see professional companies mowing their yards and trimming their shrubs. Her sons had learned responsibility by doing those chores, and Adam had made money mowing yards while neighbors were on vacation.

“Isn't having that thing parked in the yard against neighborhood covenants or something?” the third chimed in.

“Danny and I were the first homeowners to buy and build in this development. There were no covenants then and aren't now.”

Dear heaven, she was being a bi—witch. Her grandmother would be ashamed. “Now, if you'll excuse me, my husband and son are waiting for their home-cooked dinner.”

She hustled back toward her house. Even listening to Danny singing Madison's praises was better than hearing these waspy women buzz.

* * *

“T
HANKS
FOR
COMING
early,” Adam said as Madison met him beside the airplane Sunday afternoon. “I hope it wasn't an inconvenience.”

As it had every other time, seeing Adam did crazy things to Madison's equilibrium. “Meeting at three instead of six forced me to juggle a few things, but I managed. What's the rush?”

Adam took her cooler and bag. The accidental touch of their fingers made her heart trip. If it affected him at all he covered it well. Then she noticed the splash of red on his neck and the extra firmness of his mouth. Knowing he wasn't unaffected was not a good thing.

“Dad wants to have a Sunday dinner like the good ol' days. He's afraid he won't be fit company on Tuesday after his next infusion, and he's determined to squeeze in two visits with you each week.”

Madison's heart ached in sympathy, confirming she'd totally failed at keeping herself detached from the Drake family.

“How did he handle Friday's?”

“Not great. He'll be weaker each time he goes in. But he was well enough this morning to make demands.”

They boarded the plane and Adam fell into his usual takeoff procedures, but the atmosphere wasn't filled with resentment this time. She preferred the tension. It kept her hormones in check.

Flying to get her was both expensive and time-consuming, but if he resented either she had yet to see him show evidence of it to his parents. Andrew never would have been so generous. He'd have made sure everyone knew how much he was putting himself out.

Determined to keep her thoughts from wandering into the danger zone of comparing brothers, she pulled out the stack of veterinary magazines Danny had loaned her and immersed herself in reading each from cover to cover. Adam didn't interrupt and she preferred it that way. Really, she did.

Other than an occasional glance out the window to check the scenery and their progress, she kept her nose in the pages until they'd landed. Not that she hadn't been distracted occasionally by the competent way Adam handled the controls or his deep voice talking to someone on the other end of the radio.

In the same situation Andrew would have demanded her attention and even done foolish things to get it. He used to swerve the car or slam on brakes when she had her face buried in a textbook just so she'd look up. One thing was for sure, she'd have never trusted Andrew at the controls of an airplane. With hindsight she realized he'd often been like a child squealing, “Look at me!” Adam didn't need his ego stroked with attention.

When the wheels rolled to a stop, she marked her place for the transfer from the plane to the car, then read some more. Rude? Maybe. Smart? Definitely.

“Are the articles that engrossing?”

“Yes, but more important, I borrowed the magazines from Danny. I want to return them.” She didn't lift her head again until he turned off the car engine and she discovered he'd parked by the Drakes' motor home.

Gathering the magazines she'd finished, she pushed open her door. “Could you unlock the trunk?”

“Why?”

“I need to get some things out of the cooler.”

Adam did as she requested. Madison stacked three containers on top of the magazines. Her tower slipped precariously.

“Let me have those.” He took the resealable plastic bowls, and again their hands collided. She had the same breath-catching, heart-hiccupping reaction as before. Their gazes met and held, and the awareness of that blasted kiss arced between them. She ducked her head on the pretext of checking to see if she'd left anything behind, breaking the connection.

Four more weeks and she'd never have to see him again. Her life would return to normal.

Helen met them at the door. Everything about her, from her drawn face, flat hair and wrinkled clothing, screamed exhaustion. Madison ached to wrap her arms around her former mother-in-law and reassure her, but the gesture wouldn't be welcome.

“Hello, Helen.”

Helen nodded. Her neutral expression brightened when she spotted the containers in Adam's hands. “What did you bring us, dear?”

“Madison brought a surprise.”

Helen's lips curled downward. “What kind of surprise?”

Madison climbed the stairs and entered the living area, trying not to be put off by the woman's cool reception and suspicious tone. Danny looked worse than Helen. “Hi, Danny. I brought a few things to try to tempt your taste buds.”

He held out his hand. She set the magazines on a small table and crossed to give him the hug he demanded. He wasn't wearing the cologne he usually doused on liberally—another sign that he wasn't himself. Was that because chemo made his sense of smell more sensitive or was he just too sick or tired to care?

“What do you have there, Maddie?” he asked after she straightened.

“I brought batches of my grandma's banana-pudding and chicken-salad recipes, and my tenant's famous double-chocolate brownies.”

“You've learned to bake?” Helen asked and Madison grimaced.

“No. I'm afraid that's a lost cause. June made the brownies for us.” June had made them for Madison, but she would share.

“Banana pudding is my favorite,” Danny said. “And Helen always loved your chicken salad. You're a good girl, Maddie.”

“It's the least I could do.”

“I'll try some of that pudding,” Danny said.

Helen frown deepened. “You haven't had dinner.”

“Life's short. Dessert first,” he protested.

Helen shot Madison a now-look-what-you've-done look, then retrieved a stack of plates. She gave Danny small helpings of everything, including the pot roast from the cast-iron Dutch oven on the stove.

Danny went straight for the dessert. He put a forkful in his mouth and rolled it around as if testing it. “Mmm. You never gave Helen this recipe, did you?”

Helen hadn't asked for it or the chicken-salad recipe. “No.”

“Serve yourselves.” Helen gestured to the plates on the counter.

Adam indicated Madison go first. She fixed a plate, keeping an eye on Helen's drawn face as she did so. Danny's treatment was hard on her. Madison carried the filled plate to her former mother-in-law. Helen looked surprised. “I can fix my own.”

“I know you can, but please, sit down. Get off your feet.”

She hesitated. “I— Thank you.”

Madison returned to the kitchen, fixed herself a plate then sat across from Helen at the table, aware of Adam's eyes on her every step of the way.

Helen watched Danny. “Danny Drake, you're not eating my pork roast.”

“My jaw aches too much to chew.”

“Why didn't you say something?” Helen protested. “I could have fixed something else.”

“Because I whine enough already,” he snapped.

“It's not whining, Dad. Your nutrition is important. If you need softer foods you need to say so. Mom can't read your mind.”

The three seemed locked in a standoff. Madison decided to defuse the situation. “Helen, why don't you take a few hours for yourself tomorrow evening? Adam and I will take care of dinner and stay with Danny until you get home.”

“Why would I do that?” Suspicion once again filled her tone. Dealing with Helen reminded Madison of trying to befriend a dog that had been beaten.

“Tuesday's chemo is going to be hard on both of you. You should rest up while you have the chance. Go see a movie, grab dinner with a friend, have your hair done or get a massage. Do something for yourself.”

“I'm fine. I don't need your food or your help.”

“Helen!” Danny protested.

Helen glared at Adam. “Did you put her up to this?”

“No, Mom, and frankly giving you some time to yourself never occurred to me, although it should have. Madison's trying to help.”

Madison ignored her hurt feelings. “Helen, you need to take care of
you
so that you have the strength and endurance to take care of Danny.”

Helen's anger faded and her eyes filled with tears. Blinking furiously, she turned away. When she faced Madison again she'd regained control. “I don't want to put anyone out.”

“You're not. We'll be here anyway. Right, Adam?” Madison turned to the man seated beside her for backup and found him once again studying her as if she were a new species.

“Right. I'll bring Dad an order of breadsticks and some minestrone soup from his favorite Italian restaurant.”

“He'd like that.” Helen hesitated. “And...so would I. Thank you for suggesting it, Madison. And thank you for the chicken salad. Danny's right. I always loved your grandmother's recipe and if you'll share it I'd like to get it from you.”

“Of course.” And that, Madison decided, was a step in the right direction toward repaying the Drakes for the kindness they'd shown her before they'd turned on her. Before long she'd have a clean slate, and she'd be able to walk away without a backward glance.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
DAM
COULDN
'
T
TAKE
his eyes off the woman seated on the leather sofa. Madison's eyes were bright, her smile wide and the tension that had emanated from her since her reentry into their lives was absent. This was the Madison he hadn't seen in years, only she was an older version—one with more substance than the girl his brother had married. The tough times she'd been through had added character.

She'd taken control from the minute they'd entered the motor home this evening, shooing his mother out the door and insisting she take her time. When his mother had waffled, Madison had promised they had everything under control here, but yes, they would call if they needed her. His mother had left, her reluctance
and
eagerness equally apparent.

For most of the past two hours Madison had entertained his father with stories of her rural practice, often poking fun at the mistakes she'd made or lessons she'd learned the hard way, which had in turn led his father to share embarrassing tales that Adam had never heard before. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his father laugh that hard or so much. For that matter, Adam couldn't remember the last time
he'd
laughed as much. How had he never known his father had a sense of humor?

“And then I took a very long shower.” Madison concluded her tale of doing a face-plant in a pig sty with a comical grimace.

Holding his ribs, Adam's father chuckled and winced. “Stop making me laugh.”

A woman who didn't take herself too seriously was damned attractive, and the fact that she'd been good to his parents made her doubly so.

Adam rejected the idea immediately. He wouldn't become his brother's replacement. He wanted no part of his brother's wife.

Repeating the mantra didn't seem to be working, he acknowledged. He'd have to try harder.

“Good lord, son, I'm parched. Where's that drink?”

Adam realized he'd been so caught up in listening to Madison that he'd forgotten what he'd gone to the kitchen to do. “Coming up.”

He finished refilling the glasses and carried them to the den, setting Madison's on the table beside her rather than risking contact. She looked up at him, her face still glowing with amusement. Her beauty took his breath and he couldn't look away.

Seconds ticked past—seconds laden with the memory of what shouldn't have happened—then she blinked and dipped her chin. “Thank you.”

Her breathier-than-usual voice hit him low in the gut.

“You're welcome.” But as he took his seat at the far end of the couch he had to admit once again that the idea of giving his mother a night out would never have occurred to him. Ditto preparing her favorite foods. Madison had done both. Why?

Neither were the traits of a selfish bitch. And that she'd done so even after his mother had treated her badly six years ago, and repeatedly since her return, refuted a long list of negative thoughts that Adam had held of Madison Monroe.

Who was this woman, if she wasn't the one his brother had complained increasingly about during the last few months of his life?

“You never told me these stories before, Dad.”

“You never gave me the chance, son. You always had somewhere else to be when Andrew and I talked shop.”

Guilt and regret hit Adam hard and fast. How many other stories had he missed? Would he ever get to hear them?

His father yawned. Adam checked his watch. Almost ten o'clock. His mother had been gone four hours. Unbelievable. “Are you ready for bed yet, Dad?”

“I wanted to wait until your mother returned, but I'm not sure I'll make it.”

Adam heard a car door slam outside. “Sounds like her now.”

The door opened and his mother breezed in. She'd had her hair done and looked much more relaxed than she had earlier. Adam jumped to his feet to help with the shopping bags draped over her arm.

She quickly pulled them out of reach. “I have them. Sorry I took so long. Time got away from me.”

Madison stood. “Not a problem, Helen. Your hair looks great.”

The comment seemed genuine.

“Oh, I... Thank you, Madison. My usual stylist wasn't available, so I tried a new one at the mall. I think I like this color better.”

“It's more flattering to your complexion. Need help putting anything away before we go?” Madison asked.

She shook her head. “Danny, I can't believe you're still awake.”

“Good company.”

“Dad, I'll be taking Madison straight to the airport from work tomorrow so you can rest.”

His father opened his mouth to protest, then nodded. “That's probably for the best. Gonna miss you, Maddie. Until next week. Sunday dinner again?”

“I can do that.” Madison helped Danny to his feet and then hugged him. The expression on Adam's father's face and the way he held on longer than normal said it all. He didn't want to let Madison go—not now
or
at the end of the two months.

His father was in for a big disappointment.

Adam followed Madison out to the car and waited until they were on the road before asking the question burning inside him. “Why are you being nice to my mother after the way she's treated you?”

He caught a glimpse of Madison's tense, pale face in an oncoming car's headlights. “Because she's going through hell and scared to death. She has no idea what her future holds or if she can handle it.” She scratched a spot on her scrub pants. “I've been there, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.”

That was the last thing he'd expected from her. Maybe, just maybe, Madison wouldn't let them down after all.

* * *

M
ADISON
CLOSED
THE
last chart of the day and put it in the box for Danny to review. In a matter of hours she'd be home and she could mark one more week's obligation off her list. Four down. Four to go.

“Madison,” Adam's voice echoed down the empty hall. The staff had cleared out twenty minutes ago. Dread, combined with the same old reaction she was now coming to expect, rolled through her. Quickening heartbeat. Shortness of breath. Dampening palms.

“Back here.” She rose from Danny's desk as Adam reached the office. The worry on his face did not bode well. “What's wrong? Is Danny okay?”

“He's as well as could be expected after this morning's chemo but, according to Mom, definitely not up for company. It's good that he wasn't counting on us tonight. We have a bigger problem. There's a storm front heading this way. We might have to postpone our flight until morning.”

An evening alone with Adam? No way. She couldn't risk it. Not after last night. They'd spent their time working together to convince Danny to eat, then kept him entertained with the worst jokes she'd ever heard. Watching Adam with his father, hearing the respect in his voice and the intelligence in his answers, she'd found more reasons to like him. Reasons that had nothing to do with him looking like her dead husband and everything to do with her actually liking the man, his character, his devotion to his parents and his quick wit.

“No, I need to go back tonight. I have my spay-and-neuter clinic tomorrow.”

“What's that?”

“On the first Wednesday of even-numbered months I neuter pets at my costs. I have surgeries booked solid all day. People have already taken off work to bring their animals in. I can't reschedule.”

“Someone needs to teach you about running a business. You're losing by giving your services at cost. You should charge more and make a profit. That's capitalism.”

“The lower price gets more customers in the door. I'd rather
not
make a profit neutering than
make
a profit euthanizing strays. That's compassion.”

He shook his head. “Making a profit would allow you to be more compassionate more often.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped the words by holding up a hand. “Save it. Flying into this storm tonight will be rough—far rougher than our last turbulent flight.”

Given how she'd worried about him last time, maybe she'd better find another way to get home. “If you get me a rental car I'll get myself home.”

“You'd be safer flying above it than driving through it. I'll take you.”

“Are you sure?”

“The plane was built to withstand it.”

“Can you, as a pilot, handle the turbulence?”

His blue-green gaze held hers. “I have my instrument rating, and I've flown in worse. I don't like it, but I can do it.”

His confidence was mildly comforting. “Then I can I handle it, too. Let's go.”

She hoped she didn't live to regret her decision.

* * *

A
DAM
SHUT
DOWN
the
engine, peeled off his headset and sagged back in his seat, letting his muscles unkink one by one. Those last fifteen minutes had been the biggest test of his skills to date. They'd completed half the flight before hitting the storm. The wind shear had been unpredictable, and visibility had been near zero. And yes, he wasn't ashamed to admit he'd been scared a couple times.

He glanced at his passenger. Madison's color had improved since they'd touched down. During the flight, lightning flashes illuminating the cockpit had revealed a ghostly pallor and her white-knuckled grip on the armrests. But she hadn't complained.

“You okay?”

She swept back her hair and blew out a slow breath through pursed lips. “Yes. But I'm glad to be on the ground.”

He gave her kudos for courage and honesty. A gust rocked the craft on the tarmac. He needed to tie this baby down. “Me, too.”

“Will you text me when you land this time?”

He shook his head. He'd had all the adrenaline he could handle for the night. “I'm not flying back in this.”

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, her indecision clear in her eyes even in the dim airport lighting. “I have a guest room. You— You're welcome to it.”

He hesitated. She didn't want his company. “If you'll drop me at the closest hotel, I'll get a taxi back in the morning.”

Her quiet laugh caressed his ears. “You're in farm country, Adam. The motels here are few and far between and not to your standards. And taxis... Let's just say you can't depend on those out here.”

“Then I'll sleep in the terminal.”

“There's not a sofa in the place. Only chairs. It may not even be unlocked. I'll bring you back in the morning.”

A tough decision. He still hadn't rationalized or forgiven himself for that kiss. But he'd learned his lesson. They were both adults with enough sense not to act on the chemistry between them again. “Then I guess I'll take that guest room.”

Even though the rain beat down on them, Madison helped him secure the plane, garnering even more respect from him. When they finished he gathered her things. The building was indeed locked. They hustled around it to the truck waiting on the opposite side.

Andrew's truck. He'd ridden in it before, but not with Madison. He climbed into the passenger seat and immediately her scent surrounded him. For some reason he'd expected remnants of Andrew's overpriced cologne. But his brother had been gone six years. Sometimes it felt like six days, other times six decades.

It took Madison a couple tries to get the motor to catch. When it did, she patted the dash as if she were praising a good dog.

“You need to get that fixed.”

“I will.”

He closed his mouth and let her focus on navigating through the blinding rain. It was only nine, but thick clouds had obscured any trace of moonlight, and the countryside lacked streetlights. To say it was dark was an understatement. Inching along well below the posted speed, she didn't drive like a woman who was careless of the weather or road conditions. The twenty minutes that passed before she turned off the winding two-lane road and into her driveway felt more like an hour.

The last time he'd come to her house he'd been too angry to be interested in the scenery. The small white farmhouse was set back from the street. The distance seemed farther in the dark. The wet oak trees hung heavily over the gravel path, almost forming a tunnel. Branches occasionally twanged on the antennae and brushed the roof, then a ping hit the roof and he startled.

“It's okay. Probably an acorn or a pecan.”

She passed the house. The headlights picked out a two-story barn with sheds attached to either side. The right side had no doors. She drove into that opening. Her high beams revealed pet crates lining the back wall. He climbed from the vehicle and watched as she checked the cages, then nodded. “That's a relief. No guests.”

“Guests?”

“I offer a safe-surrender program here. People can drop off unwanted pets or strays they've picked up here or at my office. No questions asked. It's the same program your father has.”

“Does that happen often?”

“More often than I like and yet not often enough. Most folks just dump their animals along a country road.” She shouldered her overnight bag. “We can leave the cooler here till morning.” She stopped at the edge of the shelter, scanning the backyard as if searching for something. Rain streamed down just inches from her toes. Jagged lightning split the sky in the distance.

“Ready to make a run for it?” And then she was gone, sprinting and splashing her way across the grass, zigzagging around puddles and finally onto her screened-in porch.

He dashed into the downpour after her. She held open the door. The porch light revealed her hair clinging to her scalp and her clothing to her torso, delineating curves he'd rather not think about. His heart pounded harder—not from the short run. Rain beat down on the metal roof, almost drowning out the sound.