Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her Past\A Real Live Hero\In Her Corner (4 page)

“This way,” he said before she could ask and jerked his chin toward the end of the building from which he'd come. She bent to grab her bag. The heat of his hand covered hers on the strap as he did the same. The contact seared her. She snatched the burning extremity away.

Static electricity. That's all.

Who was she trying to fool? Warmth pooled low in her belly and a tingle worked its way through her veins, but that was simply Mother Nature talking, reminding Madison that she was too young to be put out to pasture. Her ovaries were still fully functional and wanted a workout.

She squashed that reaction and slowly straightened. Grasping the strap, he rose beside her, his gaze drilling hers through narrowed, suspicious eyes.

She carefully blanked her expression.

“Is this all you packed?”

“I'll only need a couple scrub suits. This isn't a pleasure trip.”

His scowl deepened. He about-faced and headed for a pair of glass doors on the opposite side of the building from where she'd parked. The breath leaked from her lungs like a tire going flat. She shouldn't antagonize him, but for pity's sake, her skittish reaction would make one think she'd never been touched by a man before. Well, she hadn't in a long time. Years, actually. Still, celibacy was no excuse for her neglected hormones to start tap-dancing now—and for Andrew's brother no less.

Maybe her vow to live without sex had been a bad one, but pickings were slim in Quincey, and small-town people thrived on gossip. That made finding a local man she could like and respect, but who wouldn't demand more than a friends-with-benefits relationship, a difficult proposition. She wasn't the type to drive out of town for one-night stands, and her few experiences with dating websites had not been good ones. Only two of the guys ever made it past the initial screening phone call, and those dates had been a waste of time and gasoline.

No. That whole romantic fantasy of soul mates and forever was not for her. She'd never let herself be that vulnerable again.

The doors slid closed between them, kicking her into action. Why was Adam here, her brain nagged again. Had he decided to drive her to Norcross? If so, why hadn't he informed her of the change of plans? She hustled after him to get her answers.

Before Adam had surprised her at her house a few days ago, she'd never spent any time alone with him and didn't want to contemplate the long drive cooped up in a car with him now. She checked her watch. They'd arrive so late that she wouldn't get more than a few hours' sleep, and she'd be good for nothing in Dr. Drake's office tomorrow.

The doors slid open automatically, revealing an asphalt tarmac—
not
another parking lot. A half dozen planes were tethered in a row. Adam was already halfway to one small white aircraft with blue and silver stripes and three windows on the side. Her feet stalled. The cool air from the terminal swirled past her, blending with the warmth radiating from the pavement.

He opened a door on the side and shoved her bag through it. Her brain screamed in protest. He turned and then did a double take, as if he'd only now noticed she wasn't immediately behind him.

“Are you coming?” He folded his arms and waited with one leg bent, staring at her through the dark sunglasses he'd lowered over his eyes. He presented an all too appealing picture—like a cologne advertisement for an adventurous man or something. “Madison, we need to get in the air.”

Dear heaven. She wasn't mistaken. They were traveling by plane. “I thought you and Andrew were deathly afraid of flying after that near-miss midair accident when you were kids.”

“I don't run from my fears.”

But Andrew had. Goose bumps danced across her skin as awareness drifted over her like a chilling mist. How could she have missed that when she'd been married to the man for five years? But the moment she heard Adam say the words she recognized the truth. Every vacation she and her husband had ever taken had been within driving distance. They'd either stayed in a hotel or the family's pop-up camper.

She looked at the tiny aircraft and apprehension tickled her spine. “
That
is our plane?”

“It's a Piper Seminole, a safe one. Fast, too.”

She swiveled her head from side to side. There wasn't anyone else nearby. “Where's our pilot?”

“You're looking at him.”

Her mouth dried and adrenaline raced through her veins. “You own a plane?”

“In partnership with several surgeons at the hospital.”

He closed the distance between them, then pushed up the dark lenses. His steady gaze held hers. “Madison, I became a pilot so I could understand what happened that day and make sure it didn't happen to me again. You'll be safe with me—safer than on the interstate in Andrew's old truck. Once we get in the air you'll see some amazing scenery, and in a couple hours you'll be on the ground again.”

She wasn't convinced.

He huffed an impatient breath. “Flying will save you ten hours of travel time round trip each week.”

When he put it that way... “I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm a little apprehensive. I've never flown before.”

“Conquer your fears, Doc, or they'll conquer you. Trust me, you'll love it once we're airborne.”

Trust a man who detested her? Tall order. She wasn't sure she'd love flying, but she ordered her feet forward, taking one step, two, on legs as weak and numb as they'd been after she'd finished her first half marathon. Was it fear? Or excitement?

Adam stepped in front of her. “I have to get in first since there's only one door, then you'll step up onto the wing and slide down into your seat. Watch where I put my feet.”

Another bubble of nervousness rose in her throat. She hesitated, running her gaze over the aircraft and searching for loose seams or bolts or anything that didn't look...right. Not that she knew what she was looking for. But she hated the idea of climbing into that tin can and being trapped beside Adam for the length of the flight when her body was having fits of nostalgia for her missed sex life.

But Adam was not Andrew, and she was
not
going there with him.

Adam climbed aboard, then turned and offered his hand to help her climb inside. The moment their palms met and his long fingers curled around hers a current of awareness flowed through her, and she realized she was in trouble because her body obviously did not know what was good for it.

* * *

A
PRICKLE
OF
foreboding crept up Madison's spine when the headlights' beam landed on the brick pillars marking the entrance to Adam's neighborhood. Surely Helen and Danny weren't waiting for them? It was almost ten o'clock—too late for visiting.

Adam had said little during the flight, communicating more to the people on the other end of the radio headset than with her. He'd only spoken to Madison when pointing out pieces of interesting scenery—a winery and a lake and the tail end of the Appalachians. His silence had screamed louder than a crowd of rowdy teenagers at a rock concert that he didn't want her here. That made two of them.

But she had to admit, he'd been right. Other than twinges of anxiety during takeoff and landing, she'd enjoyed the flight.

The lack of conversation had been both a blessing and a curse. What could she say to someone who only tolerated her out of necessity? But the lack of interaction had given her time to worry about how she'd handle staying at the Drakes' home—a place where she'd once experienced so much love but which now held open hostility, at least from Helen. Mostly she'd tried to prepare herself for sleeping in the bed she'd once shared with Andrew.

Adam steered the car into his driveway and hit the remote to open his garage door. Her sense of foreboding rose along with that door.

“Are your parents meeting us here?”

“No.” He parked and turned off the ignition. The garage door lowered behind them with a hum of gears, sealing her inside.

A sinking sensation weighted her stomach. Adam left the car, opened the trunk and extracted her duffel bag. Her brain screamed in denial. She threw open her door and bolted to her feet. “I'm staying here? With you?”

“Yes.” The bite in the word revealed his displeasure.

“Why not a hotel or at your parents' house?”

“They're living in a motor home parked in their driveway while the renovation is underway. There's no room for you.”

No. No. No.

“This isn't going to work. Call Danny. I'm sure he'll make arrangements for a hotel.”

“He's having surgery tomorrow. For cancer—a life-threatening disease. He has enough on his plate without worrying about your demands. Could you think about someone other than yourself for once?”

She gasped at the injustice of the statement. “I don't want to inconvenience you.”

“Dad wants you here.”

“How will I get to his office? Is he going to loan me his car?”

A bark of laughter severed her words. “No one drives Dad's Corvette except him.”

“But—”

“Madison, he asked me to make sure you kept your promise. I'm to drive you to work each morning and pick you up each evening.”

Adam was her babysitter. “He doesn't trust me?”

“Why should he? You've given him no reason to believe you won't cut and run when things get tough.”

Madison gulped the panic welling within her. She was trapped. Trapped in hell with the spitting image of her dead husband. With no escape. No matter how bad things got. And she was too far from anywhere to pay what would no doubt be an exorbitant taxi fee.

Two nights under Adam's roof. She inhaled and exhaled, fighting for calm. Two nights, she repeated silently. She could get through them, but next week she'd insist on alternative accommodations.

CHAPTER THREE

A
DAM
MIGHT
BE
forced to house and chauffeur Madison, but he didn't have to befriend her. He planned to park her in her room, putting her out of sight and out of mind until tomorrow. And then he'd have seven more weekends to get through—if she kept her promise. He doubted she would. He expected her to bail long before September.

He dropped her suitcase inside the door of the bedroom on the opposite end of the house from his and stepped out of her way. “Guest room's here. Bathroom's next door. We leave at seven in the morning. Be ready.”

Madison swept past him, trailing the barely perceptible fragrance of flowers that had taunted him in the cockpit during their flight. Her scent wasn't overpowering like some of the perfumes the women he encountered at work often wore. Instead, Madison's was just subtle enough to tease his nose and interfere with his concentration as he tried to identify the components.

A ridiculous waste of time. He turned to walk away. A gasp stopped him.

Madison stood by the bed, her body rigid, facing the shelf above the television holding Andrew's sports memorabilia. Individual protective glass boxes enclosed an autographed football from Andrew's favorite NFL player, a pyramid of signed baseballs they'd collected on a summer road trip when hitting as many major league ballparks as possible, and a golf glove from the Masters Tournament champion the year they'd both graduated high school.

“I'd forgotten about those.” Madison's voice quivered slightly, as did her fingers when she tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear. When she'd been married to Andrew she'd kept her hair cut to chin length. It hung to the center of her back now, with shorter strands sweeping her shoulders when she turned to look at him.

Something lurked in her eyes—something deep, dark and...painful? Adam dismissed the notion. If she'd thought about his brother or the Drake family at all since Andrew's death, Adam had seen no evidence of it.

He'd forgotten about the collection, too. He never came into this room. He'd been dating an interior designer when he'd built the house, and he'd given her free rein when she'd volunteered to do the decorating. But yes, he still remembered the shock the first time he'd seen what she'd dug out of the boxes in his attic.

Putting Madison in here with Andrew's prized possessions hadn't been intentional. He'd simply chosen the room farthest from his. But if seeing the collection served as penance, so be it. Why should she be able to walk away and forget when he couldn't?

“You abandoned them along with everything else in your house.”

“Andrew's house. He bought it.”

“To surprise you.”

“The deed and loan were in his name. He chose all the furniture.” Her resentful tone grated like the screech of a rusty hinge.

She ducked her head and tugged at her cuffs. “I left behind the things that meant something to you and your brother. He would've wanted you to have all this since you collected them together.”

Andrew hadn't cared about the sentimental ties to the items. He'd considered them all investments—items he could sell later when the star's value went up.

“You left everything, Madison, creating an additional burden for those of us who had to clean up after you.”
Him.
He'd been the one who'd had to parcel out his brother's belongings, deciding what to keep, sell or store. He'd had to list the house and sell it. His mom hadn't been up to the task, and his dad had been slammed at work trying to cover his and Andrew's patients.

“I'm sorry. I—I only took what I could carry in the truck, and the love of sports was something you and he shared before I came along.”

She'd come between him and Andrew, breaking a bond he'd believed indestructible, and if he didn't do as his father requested and deliver her to the office each week she could drive a bigger wedge between him and his parents, too.

“You mailed us the house keys along with your power of attorney, relinquishing your share of everything but the life insurance and the pickup. You didn't even bother to call or say goodbye to my parents.”

He caught her reflection in the mirror, saw her eyes close, fanning dark lashes against her pale skin. When her lids lifted, whatever emotion he thought he'd seen earlier had vanished.

“I said goodbye at the memorial service. Helen preferred it that way.”

“Quit blaming your insensitivity on my mother. You bailed without any regard for the damage you'd left behind.”

She flinched and opened her mouth. Seconds ticked past. Then she sealed her lips.

She faced him with one hand splayed across her upper chest. The action parted the neckline of her plaid cotton shirt and revealed the area above the scooped neck of the T-shirt she wore beneath it. The shape of her bones showed clearly beneath her skin. His father had remarked on Madison's thinness after she'd left yesterday. Adam hadn't noticed until now. She'd lost weight. Too much.

“I'll be ready by seven. Thank you for allowing me to stay, Adam. I know this isn't your first choice, either. Next week I'd prefer a hotel.”

His father would never agree to that, but he wasn't going to waste his breath. “Tell that to my father.”

“I will.”

He should leave, but his feet remained rooted. Madison had always been pretty, but as Andrew's girlfriend then his wife she'd been off-limits. Adam had never examined her that closely before, but he could have sworn the angles of her face had been softer six years ago, and he didn't remember her camouflaging her shape beneath layers of loose clothing then either. She looked...fragile.

Probably just another woman starving herself to fit into size-zero jeans. But he couldn't have her collapsing on the job. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I had a big lunch.”

“You know where the kitchen is. It's stocked. Help yourself. I won't wait on you.”

He made his escape, passing through the back door, then the screened porch. He jogged down the steps to the slate patio below. Moonlight glimmered on the water, but his favorite view did nothing to soothe him tonight. He punched his father's number into his cell phone.

“She's here,” he said the second his father connected.

“Good. I knew I could count on her. You'll get her to the office in the morning?” Worry tightened his voice, and worry was one thing his father didn't need right now.

“Why do you think I flew her in, Dad? Not because I wanted to spend time with her. Once I drop her off tomorrow she'll be stranded. Your idea of taking her truck to the shop was a good one, but it would have been a one-visit deal—we'd have had to think of something else next time. Flying her in covers every visit, and it saves her time, so she won't question my motives.”

“It's expensive.”

“It's cheaper than hiring a substitute doctor.”

A chuckle hit his ear. “You're more like me than you're willing to admit, Adam. Now I can rest easy. Thanks.”

No. He wasn't like his father at all. “I'll see you in preop, Dad.”

“You don't need to come by the hospital in the morning. I'll see you after I get out. Take special care of our girl. You could even stop by the office and have lunch with her.”

“You mean check up on her? Don't push it, Dad. I'll see you before they wheel you back.”

“Madison's still your sister-in-law, Adam. She deserves respect.”

“She's not my anything anymore. She severed those ties long ago. Tell Mom I'll be there in the morning. She'll need my support even if you don't.”

* * *

“M
ADISON
.”

Madison jolted awake at the sound of a familiar voice.
Andrew?
No. Adam stood over her. They looked and sounded similar, but she'd always been able to tell them apart—a test she'd passed multiple times when Andrew had pulled his hijinks. “What?”

“I asked, what you're doing out here?”

She blinked and looked around. Then it came back to her. She'd barely slept—how could she in that shrine to her dead husband? Cold penetrated her skin, seeping down to her bones. Dawn illuminated the pond. How long had she been on the screened porch? Pushing back her hair, she straightened on the swing, tightened her grip on the blanket she'd wrapped herself in and banded her arms around the void in her middle.

“Did I oversleep?”

“You didn't answer my question.”

And he hadn't answered hers. “I came out to listen to the bullfrogs. They reminded me of home.”

Her dreams had been filled with the screech of metal against metal as her car had scraped against the guardrail, then the snap of it breaking through and rolling over and over. As always, the impact of the vehicle slamming into the tree and the pain of her stomach colliding with the steering wheel had jolted her awake. It was a familiar dream, one she'd had hundreds of times. But it still rattled her. Sometime this morning she'd trudged out here rather than risk a replay.

She gingerly eased to her feet. Her left foot was slightly numb from being tucked beneath her and made keeping her balance an iffy proposition. She grasped the swing's chain. The links were cold against her palm, but she would not ask Adam for help.

His hair was damp and his chin gleamed from a recent shave. The unbuttoned collar of his white dress shirt revealed a wedge of tanned skin. A navy-and-red unknotted necktie draped his shoulders. The combination of his cologne, menthol shaving cream and minty toothpaste filled her nose.

She'd forgotten the appeal of a freshly showered man first thing in the morning. Her heart raced like a rabbit's, and adrenaline gave her a burst of alertness. Certainly the intimacy of the situation was the only reason.

Yeah, right.

Adam looked good—even better than his brother had on his best day, mainly because he lacked Andrew's cocky you-know-you-want-me swagger. Adam had a harder take-me-or-leave-me edge, or maybe there was a maturity about him that Andrew, with his perpetual fraternity-boy persona, had lacked.

But her damned hormones couldn't tell the difference between the enemy and Andrew.

“Coffee's in the kitchen. I'm pulling out of the garage in thirty minutes.”

The scent of coffee from the mug he held in his hand penetrated her distracting thoughts. “I'll grab a cup and get dressed.”

She ducked past him, ignoring him as best she could when he shadowed her inside. Ten minutes after she'd left Adam she was as ready as she was ever going to be to face him again, but neither the caffeine nor her quick, steaming shower had done anything to erase the pall of last night's nightmares. The uneasiness lingered in her mind. She hadn't had the dream in over a year, and she'd thought she'd finally banished the hellish mental movie. Apparently Adam's appearance had resurrected the reruns.

He pivoted sharply when she entered the kitchen, wearing his usual scowl. What had she done to irritate him this time? Breathe?

“Are you starving yourself on purpose?”

The attack took her aback. “What?”

“Did you eat anything last night or this morning?” He practically growled the question.

Why did he care?

“Don't bother lying, Madison. I buy the groceries. I know what's in my house.”

“I told you I wasn't hungry last night.”

Even if she'd been able to bring herself to rummage through his cupboards for a snack, she'd been too stressed to force down anything. The shrimp and grits lunch yesterday had been her last meal, and she was paying for that this morning with a noticeable lack of get-up-and-go.

“Dad's practice is a busy one. You'll be going nonstop, since you insist on cramming a week's worth of patients into two days. You'll need something substantial to get through the day.”

Well, that explained everything. Adam wasn't concerned for her well-being. He was thinking of his father's practice.

“Could we stop somewhere on the way to the office?” A yogurt parfait might soothe her nervous stomach.

“Junk food's not the answer.” He raided the fridge, tossing items onto the counter, then he broke four eggs into a large skillet, and efficiently whisked them with a fork. He added fresh spinach, cheese and herbs from a well-stocked array in the cabinet. Bustling around the room like a man on a mission, he dropped bread into a toaster and poured two glasses of orange juice, which he plopped on the table with a thump.

His swift, economical movements implied he'd prepared breakfast for guests before.
Women?
She crammed that thought back into her mental closet. Adam's social life was not her business.

But she couldn't help comparing him to his twin. Andrew's idea of cooking had been to microwave leftovers. A savory aroma filled the kitchen. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled enthusiastically.

With a flick of his wrist Adam folded and plated the omelet, once again surprising her with his competence. After dividing it, he slid half onto a second plate, then set it in front of her, adding a piece of toast. “Eat fast. We need to go.”

“I— Thank you, Adam.”

“Don't get used to it. I'm not your personal chef.”

“I didn't ask you to cook for me.”

“We both know I'm not doing this for you.” He applied himself to his meal, and Madison did the same, choking down her resentment along with breakfast.

Once breakfast had been consumed Adam rose, grabbed their empty dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “You have five minutes.”

“I'm ready.”

His gaze searched her face, making her hyperconscious of the ghastly reflection she'd seen in the mirror. But makeup wasn't her thing, and even if she'd wanted to disguise her pallor or the dark circles beneath her eyes, she hadn't packed any concealer. Why worry? She had no one to impress.