One True Heart (24 page)

W
INTER
'
S
I
NN

Somehow everyone knew that Beau Yates was back in town, thanks to the mugging. He'd often thought Harmony didn't need a paper. News spread like an airborne virus.

By the time he left the hospital and settled into Winter's Inn, girls were camped out on Martha Q's lawn, wanting an autograph. Every time he stepped out on the porch they screamed, frightening all the squirrels in the neighborhood.

Beau moved around the house like a caged lion. He didn't mention it to anyone, but every time the inn's phone rang he jumped. The women of the inn all offered him books to read or tried to feed him. Martha Q even talked for an hour about the soap opera she watched, hoping that he'd be interested enough to watch it with her. Millanie said she'd play poker with him, but he knew she'd beat him. Everyone beat him at poker. When he played, if he played, he always considered it a donation to the pot and not a game he'd have any chance at winning.

Lark didn't call Friday or Saturday. Beau finally got tired of making up excuses for her. It didn't matter if she had extra work or her family needed her or she had to leave town. She was a grown woman. She could have called if she'd wanted to.

The “why” ate at his gut and, by Sunday night, he'd turned to his music. A sad song flowed from his fingers with words about trying to see the future through a muddy telescope. Trying to find your way without a map. Trying to fall in love alone.

Martha Q took the country music fanatics' advances on Monday as if it were a storming of the palace gates. Thank goodness, a warm rain started about noon, driving the fans away.

As soon as the downpour stopped, Beau felt like walking. Everyone in the house warned him to stay on the main roads. Millanie, with a cane, even offered to go with him as bodyguard. Mrs. Biggs didn't say much, but he saw the worry in her eyes. They all seemed to think the mugger was just beyond the door waiting for Beau the rabbit to come out.

“I'll be fine,” he stated as he passed all three waiting at the door. “I'll only go a few blocks.” He pulled the hood over his bandaged head. “No one will even know it's me.”

“You'll call if it starts raining again. I'll come pick you up,” Martha Q ordered.

“I promise. Trust me, if I can walk the streets of Nashville at midnight, I can walk the streets of Harmony in the afternoon.” He thought of showing the few scars he had from accidentally getting in the middle of bar fights, but Martha Q might want to show him hers and Beau had a feeling he'd have to live another ten years to equal the number of nights Martha Q had probably spent in bars.

Mrs. Biggs pointed out in her shy way that he hadn't been mugged in Nashville and another bang on the head might not do him any good.

“I'll stay on the main streets. I'll watch out,” he said for the third time. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

Beau slipped out the front door before one of the ladies thought of a way to guilt him into staying.

For a while he walked down the old brick streets enjoying the sound of the rain dripping off leaves and the wind in the trees. As always the music came to him and all else shifted into the background. Since those magic summers with his grandfather listening to music flow out from the little tin-roofed cabin, Beau always felt like nature played harmony to every melody in his head. The words to songs came from his life, his feelings, his dreams.

As he walked, a hunger began to grow in him that had nothing to do with food.

Lark was always in his thoughts. He needed to see her. She'd stood him up four nights in a row. They'd been so close in the hospital. If she'd felt a tenth of what he'd felt those nights at the hospital, she would fight her way back to him.

Maybe she hadn't promised she'd come, but he'd thought it was understood. He thought they were starting something between them. They read each other's minds. They wanted the same thing. To be with each other. To be best friends. To someday soon be lovers.

Or at least he thought that was what they both wanted.

The hours they'd spent in the hospital were the most real time he could remember having. Even with the pain medication, he'd memorized all she'd said and how her fingers had felt laced in his. She'd kissed him as he fell asleep each night so that he drifted off with the taste of her on his lips. When they'd talked she'd rested her hand on his leg as if a part of him were already hers, just as a part of her, maybe the wild part, belonged to him and always would.

It occurred to him that no girl had turned him down since he'd left Harmony. In fact, he'd never chased one, or used a line, or done anything but be available. They'd just always been there to talk to if he had time, to flirt with if bored or to step into the shadows with if he needed a distraction. It was always just physical, nothing more. Nothing lasting. Nothing with meaning.

He didn't want that with Lark. He wanted more than sex. He'd never made love to a woman. He'd never said the words.
He wanted that with her. The thought of whispering just how much she meant to him while they were making love made him smile.

Beau turned toward the bank. Long ago, on a midnight road, they'd backed away from passion. Both had dreams they didn't want to derail. But now they were adults. They could handle whatever came their way.

Ten minutes later he walked into the bank just before closing. The guard at the door reminded Beau he only had a few minutes, but Beau just kept walking. The lobby was crowded with people taking care of business. He didn't care. He wasn't planning on standing in line.

The tall loan officer who'd frowned at him when he'd asked to see the president now sat alone at his desk looking tired and worried. Beau wondered if the bank exam Lark had mentioned on their last night in the hospital had anything to do with Mr. Not-So-Friendly.

Trouble's door was open. Without pausing, he walked through and saw her working at her desk. She looked so alone there. So unhappy.

When he closed the door and threw the lock, she glanced up.

“I'll just be a minute,” she said with a quick smile, and turned back to the computer screen. “I have to get these sent before closing.”

Beau moved slowly across the room, letting the beauty of the woman he'd always thought of as a girl sink into his mind.

She finally stood, closing up her computer. “I'm glad you dropped by. I was hoping—”

He reached for her and pulled her to him. “I didn't drop by, Lark. I came to do this.”

His mouth closed over hers as his hand tugged the tie from her hair. He'd missed her more than he wanted to admit, and he didn't plan on wasting any more time talking.

She pushed away for a moment as if planning to remind him that this wasn't the place for them to be together.

This time he had no intention of slowing down. He advanced again.

He tightened his hold around her and deepened the kiss. He felt like he'd waited years to kiss her completely, and she tasted every bit as good as he remembered.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless. “I couldn't wait any longer.” His hand moved over the silk of her blouse until he gripped her breast. Trouble was a fantasy, but Lark was real in his arms and he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted a woman. “It's time we became more than friends, honey.”

“Don't call me
honey
.” She stared at him, part angry and part need. She could have stepped from his loose hold but she didn't. The advance might have taken her off guard, but she'd recover.

He touched her forehead with his lips. “Whatever you say.”

Her breath quickened as he took his time kissing his way across her face, then moved his hand down between her breasts. Before she could protest, his mouth closed over hers and the kiss turned wild. He fisted his hand in her hair and held on tight, turning her so that he could go deeper into her mouth. This was the ocean of feelings he felt like he'd been waiting all his life to fall into.

With one arm around her waist, he lifted her and carried her to the corner of her office so that no one passing the windows could see them. Pushing his body completely against her, he held her still as he kissed her hard, letting all his need for her show through. She didn't protest, or fight, but she stopped kissing him back.

Bracing the wall on either side of her, Beau lifted away an inch so he could watch her. Her cheeks were red. Her breathing fast. He knew without asking that she was not a woman who'd ever been handled so. If she'd had any lovers they'd been gentle, polite. She wasn't the kind to be picked up in a bar or who'd have sex in a dark hallway between sets. Yet in her office at the bank he'd treated her exactly like he thought she was.

He might know about passion, but he knew nothing about
loving. He saw anger and maybe fear in her eyes for the first time.

They were from different worlds and he'd been too rough. He moved his hands to her waist and held her gently. Then he kissed her softly. “I'm sorry, Lark, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just need to hold you for a moment.”

She finally caught her breath. “No one's ever—”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, realizing his experience with women was so limited he didn't know how to treat her.

“Move away,” she whispered. “You're pinning me in, Beau.”

He stepped back, his hands in the air. “I don't know how to do this, Lark. Most romances I've had ended at last call.” He looked at her, realizing she was so much more than he deserved. He wouldn't blame her if she slapped him hard and yelled for the guard to drag him out of her office.

“I want to be friends. I'd like to be lovers.” He couldn't lie. “I want to do this right with you. We can go as slow as you like.” He closed his eyes, fearing he was lying as he said, “What happened just now will never happen again.”

Even as he said the words, he wanted her. She'd been the first girl he'd ever dreamed of. The one he'd left behind. The one who didn't seem interested in having sex just because he showed up to play the game.

She straightened her blouse, pulled her hair back into a bun, and faced him. “The bank is closing, Beau. You have to leave.”

Her words could have been said to a stranger, but he saw the hurt in her eyes. Hurt and fear. He couldn't believe he'd just walked into her office and practically attacked her. “Can we talk, Lark?”

“Not now. Later. If my father had walked in I'm sure he would have had a heart attack. I think you should leave.”

He took a step toward her and she put up a hand. “No. I can't talk now. I have to think. I'll call you.”

“Can't or won't?” Anger mixed in his words. He'd gone too fast. The bank wasn't the right place, he got that. “I said I was sorry.”

He fought the urge to reach for her when she walked past him and unlocked the door. All he'd wanted to do was see her, and he might have screwed the whole thing up.

“I'm not angry. I'll call later.” Her eyes said she was lying.

“All right. I won't touch you again until you're ready. Not like that. Not any way, if that's how you want it.”

She opened the door. “I'll call. I think I just need some time to think, Beau.”

He crossed his arms. “Lark. We'll play it your way. Call when you're ready to talk.” He grabbed a pen from her desk and wrote his number across her calendar.

“I thought we settled on friends?” She remained half a room away.

“We didn't settle on anything.” Somehow he'd missed that conversation. Maybe he hadn't tried to kiss her at the hospital, but he was doped up. How could she have thought he wanted to be just friends? “How about dinner tonight or tomorrow night? We'll talk. Name the time and place and I'll be there.”

“All right.” She studied him.

Maybe she'd finally calmed down enough to realize he wasn't attacking her. Wherever she named, he'd go even if it meant running into fans. At least they liked him, which was more than he could say for Lark right now.

“I have dinner at my parents' house tonight,” she said simply. “I choose there. I'll pick you up at six thirty and we'll drive over to Clifton Creek.”

He didn't want to meet her parents. That sounded like torture. What could they talk about, how much he wanted to sleep with their daughter?

Finally, he decided if she wanted him to walk through fire, he'd give it a try. An hour to scrape off his rough edges seemed near impossible.

“I'll be waiting,” he said as he walked out of her office without looking back.

M
ONDAY
LATE
AFTERNOON

Millanie decided to sit out back of the Winter's Inn and catch the warmth of September. Fall already whispered in the leaves and for once she needed nature to calm her weary soul. The doctor's news hadn't been promising during her morning visit, or not overly hopeful.
It will take time
was beginning to sound like swear words to Millanie. The possibility of her not fully recovering was slowly seeping into her mind.

She unstrapped her thick padded brace and pulled her baggy pant leg up so her injured leg could get some sun. “It will heal,” she whispered. “It will heal.”

She hated the way her right leg looked, still slightly twisted, swollen at the ankle, battered and bruised. In a way it didn't seem part of her body. The pain was real, waking her up at night, making moving more than a few steps tiring, but this crippled limb wasn't her. She couldn't allow it to be. If she did, it would define her.

“Evening, Captain,” Beau Yates said as he walked toward her. “Nice day.”

After visiting with him for a week Millanie was becoming both a friend and a fan. She knew everyone in the inn stopped to listen when he played. She guessed that when he finally moved on, even the ghosts in the old place would mourn his leaving. “Evening, Beau. You look nice.” She moved a sheet that Mrs. Biggs always left on the chair over her right leg so he wouldn't see the scars.

He stood tall and turned around with pride. “I bought new boots, a new hat, and this jacket.”

She studied the western cut of his jeans and jacket. “What? No rhinestones on the cuffs. You playing somewhere tonight?”

“No. I got dressed up to go to dinner. I got a date, or at least I think it's a date.”

“She must be very special.”

He rocked in his new boots on the damp grass, not noticing he was muddying them up. “She is, but she may be mad at me. I swear, I can't tell. Maybe she's hurt. I can take mad, but not hurt.”

“When you saw her last, what did she say?”

“She told me she had to think about there being an ‘us,' then she said she'd call me, then she looked at me like I was smothering her.” He pulled off his hat and dug his fingers through his long hair. “She's mad at me, but she invited me to supper with her folks. Which sounds like a bad idea, but I'm going anyway.”

Millanie never had been into solving other people's problems. “Maybe you hurt her and she's planning the worst torture ever, meeting her parents.”

He looked like he believed her diagnosis. “That's what I'm afraid of. Got any advice?”

Millanie almost felt sorry for the handsome singer. “Take your guitar, Beau. It'll block blows. Try to avoid another hit in the head.”

“Thanks,” he answered as both turned toward the rustle of leaves near the creek bed.

On instinct, Millanie reached for her cane.

A moment later a mass of black hair came into view and she relaxed. Kare pulled her way out of the leaves while colorful scarves flew around her.

“Hello,” she said calmly as she picked brush off of her skirt.

Both Millanie and Beau started sentences with “You shouldn't” before they realized it was too late for advice. The fortune-teller was already across the creek bed.

Kare just shrugged. “I know, I shouldn't cross the creek, but it's
so
much faster and it's daylight. I wanted to drop by and see you”—she pointed toward Millanie as she rattled on—“before I head home. John is over at my place fixing the window and putting extra locks on everything. When he came by to measure, he said I needed furniture so he went home to collect a few chairs he plans to lend me. He said something about how furniture seems to run free-range around his place.”

“Who's John?” Beau asked. “I've seen you a few times since the mugging. You got another brother, or maybe a boyfriend? With those beautiful eyes I'm guessing the men around here fall fast and hard for you, Kare.”

“Stop teasing me, Beau. Just because I saved your life doesn't mean you can pry into my life.” Kare giggled. “Besides, he's just a friend.”

Beau offered her a chair and pulled up one of his own. He leaned in as if asking something very important. “Would one of you women mind explaining
a friend
to me? I thought I spoke the language, but obviously I don't. When a girl says
we're friends
, does that mean I can kiss her? I mean really kiss her on the mouth?”

“Of course,” Kare answered, as if considering herself the expert.

Millanie just watched, finding the conversation interesting, but pointless.

“That's what I thought.” Beau relaxed back in his chair.

Kare added, “But no passion. A kiss on the lips is fine, but no open mouth. No fire.”

“Why bother if there's no passion?” Beau complained. “Maybe I'm not as dumb as I thought if women think a guy wants to kiss without heat involved. If a guy likes, I mean really likes a girl, he'll want passion involved. In fact, even if he doesn't care much for her, he'll probably vote for fire to be included anyway.”

“Really? Even if he's not madly in love with her?” Kare's big eyes seemed to grow even larger. “That's not how it is in books.”

“You were raised on a farm, Kare, surely you know romance isn't always involved.” Beau sounded as if he knew from personal experience.

“Maybe you two should have had this conversation at fifteen.” Millanie broke the silence as she wondered how these two ever made it into their twenties.

“I was too busy trying to make it as a singer,” Beau confessed, as if it were all his fault. “Now I'm too dumb even to try to play the games.”

“I was stuck on a farm with no one to talk to.” Kare lifted her bag. “Go away, Beau, I want to visit with Millanie.”

“Fine by me,” he said. “I get the feeling it's the blind leading the blind out here.” He looked at Millanie and pointed his finger. “You probably got the answers, Captain, but you're not telling.”

A little blue BMW pulled up in the drive. Beau didn't bother to say good-bye. He just picked up his guitar and walked away while the women laughed.

“Let's get to work,” Millanie said as the BMW backed away. “I have a possible person of interest.”

“So do I, and we can work out here in peace.” Kare looked up. “Rain is forecast later, but we'll be done before then. How about we start at the top of those left on the list? I got info that more money is being smuggled out of the country. People who hate America are using our own currency to buy weapons to kill us. It makes me angry.”

“Me, too,” Millanie answered, loving that they were getting closer. “Let's put what we know about the man you saw
in the parking lot in the mix and see who matches. It's a long shot, but it might help.”

They still had their heads together an hour later when Millanie looked up and saw Drew walking toward her. She knew it was him, but the picture seemed to be out of focus.

Kare jumped up, folding her papers away as fast as she could. “Drew,” she squealed. “You look great. Where's my brother?”

He kissed her cheek. “Can't a guy get a haircut?”

“Sure, and new clothes and boots. I've never seen you wear boots.”

Millanie just stared. Gone was the stuffy professor with his hair in need of cutting and his clothes ten years out of style. She wasn't sure she liked this man. She wouldn't have let this guy pick her up that night at the airport. He looked too polished, too handsome, too confident.

A chameleon, she thought. Just like a man who wanted to be invisible in a crowd.

“I thought since I've been in Texas five years it's about time I bought boots. Maybe I'll settle down.” He looked at Millanie. “If I can get a certain woman to talk to me again.”

Kare turned to first Millanie, then her brother. When neither said a word, she started packing up her bag. “I've got to go. I promised to feed John if he fixed my window.”

“Call me later, Kare,” Drew insisted when she was halfway down the drive.

“Sure,” Kare answered, “but you'll probably be busy.”

“I hope so,” he said, too low for his sister to hear. Looking at Millanie, he added, “Am I still welcome here?”

“Of course.” She remembered the ride home from the Matheson ranch Friday night. They'd both been at the meeting of McAllens. They'd looked at the pictures and he'd asked a dozen questions as if he were truly interested. He'd said a few things as they got in the car to leave, and then she couldn't talk to him. He'd lied to her, and that one lie colored all he'd ever said or would say to her.

“You're out of your cast and the new brace, I'm
guessing.” He looked at the outline of her leg beneath the thin sheet.

Millanie glanced down, fearing the cover might have slipped, but it was still in place. “The doctor doesn't want me to put any weight on it without the brace, so I'll have to strap my foot in the brace to go inside.”

She didn't move. She had no intention of putting it on with him watching. It was almost dark; maybe she'd go in then.

“I thought you might want to go out to dinner.” He moved closer.

“No, thank you. I have some work to do here.”

“I could help if it's about the homestead. I brought a few books that have pictures of houses your ancestors built in town. They aren't just like the old place, but I can see similarities. Would you like to see?”

“No thanks. Not tonight.” She told herself he wasn't the terrorist she was looking for. He couldn't be. If the bad guy stalking Kare was the man they were looking for, it wouldn't be Drew. She'd have known her own brother, even in the rain. Plus, Drew was with her at the Mathesons' having dinner. He couldn't have been in two places at once.

Only he had lied.

He knelt beside her chair. “What happened with us, Millie? I thought we had something. You wanted what happened between us as much as I did the other night. Then Friday you changed. Are you ill or in pain?”

Millanie almost smiled, thinking Drew looked as confused about women as Beau had an hour earlier. Only Drew was ten years older and she thought far wiser. She couldn't tell him the truth. What if he was the man half the state had been searching for? He didn't fit all the profile, but he was close and smart. Maybe smart enough to fool his sister.

Closing her eyes, Millanie silently wondered if Kare couldn't be in on his plan. No. Impossible. She'd been through background checks.

Only, she had never done a profile on Drew even after Millanie asked her. When Millanie had asked about it, Kare's answer hadn't made much sense.

She stared at him in the dying light. If she was right and he was involved, this man she thought was kind could be responsible for hundreds of deaths, maybe more. If she was wrong, she'd just hurt an innocent man and maybe killed any chance of ever truly falling for someone.

“Answer me, Millie. You owe me that.” His words seemed to circle in the sudden gust of wind.

“I can't,” she said honestly. The knowledge that this just might be what it would be like the rest of her life frightened Millanie almost as much as the possibility that Drew could be a bad guy. She could see herself second-guessing everyone she met, never trusting fully, never running with her feelings.

The screen door popped open against the back of the inn and Martha Q shouted, “You two better get inside! Storm's blowing in.”

Neither she nor Drew moved. Anger and hurt sparked between them like faraway lightning. She knew he wanted an answer. If he was innocent, he deserved an answer, but he'd told one lie. One lie might be the tip of an iceberg. One lie was all it took to break her trust.

“You need to snap out of it and run for the house!” Martha Q yelled again.

Millanie needed to put on her brace. She couldn't walk, much less run, without it, and she wouldn't move the sheet away with him watching. No one should have to look at her leg. If Drew truly was attracted to her, he wouldn't be when he saw the scars and swelling. She'd rather get wet than let him see her.

“Go on in,” she ordered. “I'll be there in a minute.”

A bolt of lightning popped, blinking the evening sky to white light for a moment.

“Come on.” Drew reached for her hand as thunder rolled across the twilight like thousands of buffalo must have once stampeded across this very land.

“I can't!” she yelled as she glanced at the brace beside her chair and back at him. “Go on without me. I'll make it.” If the rain hit, the grass would be wet. She'd barely managed the walk out. How could she make it back without putting on the brace?

In the next blink of lightning she saw his face and knew he understood. He leaned down close to her face. “Put your arm around my neck and hold on.” It was an order, not a request, as huge droplets began to hit like tiny bombs.