Peppermint Creek Inn (7 page)

But he’d saved her.

She found herself studying his face as she’d been doing a hundred times over the past couple of days.

She marveled at how much she loved those crinkled lines edging like crows feet from the corners of his closed eyes. And she really loved the tender lines around his mouth.

While he slept, an almost youthful innocence splashed across his features making him very appealing. It was this innocence that allowed her to reach out and brush a stray curl of dark hair from his forehead.

As she touched him, electricity shot up her fingertips. In less than a heartbeat, she wanted to kiss him.

Slowly, without thinking, she bent down, her mussed hair falling across his face. His delicious peppermint tea-scented breath cascaded tenderly around her cheeks pulling her closer to him.

Gently, before she even realized it, she’d brushed her lips across his hot mouth. His beard and mustache tickled her face erotically. His full, sweet lips trembled beneath her feather-light kiss and suddenly he mumbled something.

Horror-stricken, Sara backed away from him, fully expecting his eyes to snap open at any second.

Thankfully, they didn’t and he remained fast asleep.

As she watched him sleep, a whirlwind of emotions stampeded through her.

Fear perhaps being the most prevalent. Fear for the stranger lying in her bed. Of what would happen to him when he was better. And he was definitely getting better.

Already a bit of color had seeped into his face. And she’d noticed the intense way he looked at her. Noticed the sexual hunger in his bright, alert gaze.

She felt the hunger, too. An ache for her vagina to be filled by him. At that thought, exciting spirals of delight raced like a tornado through her and she tried to stop them by reminding herself that this man, this total stranger, was probably going to spend the rest of his life behind bars, or at the very least, die a very tragic death. Somehow, her mind wouldn’t allow her to dwell extensively on that possibility.

Her heart wanted to believe he was a decent man, caught up in some bizarre misunderstanding.

Yet she couldn’t help wondering what would happen when he regained his memory.

Would he revert to his criminal ways? Would he use his powerful arms against her, adding murder to his long list of self-described dream-ravaged criminal activities?

Sara eyed her sleeping Tom. He mumbled something again, and then fell silent. What would happen to him if his pursuers caught up to him? Would they beat him again? Shoot him again?

She bit her lip, battling the sudden icy wave of terror she felt for his safety.

He’d told her to pretend she’d never seen him. But how could she pretend? His simple touch had set her body on fire, opening a new world.

A world filled with exciting sexual cravings she wasn’t sure she could ignore.

He was the first man she’d kissed since—

She shuddered involuntarily.

What had possessed her to do such a horrid thing? And with her husband’s wedding ring still on her finger.

Yet Tom’s kiss had felt so perfect.

Magical.

It made her forget her pain, if only for an instant. It reminded her there still was a life to live. And she didn’t have to live it the way she’d been doing so.

Sudden guilt overrode the sensuous kiss.

The truly wonderful kiss that she pressed like a treasured fragile flower in between the tender pages of her book. Another keepsake to add to her collection of shed hopes and unfulfilled dreams.

Sara knew the direction her dream was heading yet she was helpless to stop it.

She’d been late for an exam in her still-life drawing class. Slept in because the storm had knocked out the power in her section of the city and screwed up the alarm on her clock radio.

Now as she quickly maneuvered her car through the downtown core of New York City, she spotted the flashing cruiser lights in her rearview mirror. At first, she figured they weren’t for her. After all, many people broke the rules of the road without being caught.

But the pursuing vehicle drew closer with lightning speed. Within seconds, the cruiser climbed within a few feet of her rear bumper.

“Dammit!” She pounded the wheel in frustration. “Now I’ll be really late.”

Biting her lip nervously, she pulled over to the curb. The police car followed suit and parked behind her. She stared into the rearview mirror as a tall, stocky officer got out of the cruiser and slowly headed toward the driver’s side where she quickly rolled down the window. Her pulse quickened when she stared up into his gorgeous cornflower blue eyes.

Easy, Sara.
She heard the low warning inside her head. This could be the guy for you. She would have laughed out loud if she wasn’t sure the officer would write her a ticket for doing that too.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he drawled.

So polite. He probably had to be in his line of work. But he didn’t have to be so cute.

“May I see your driver’s license please?”

Sara swallowed hard and groped inside her purse with terribly shaky fingers, quickly finding her license. She tried to tell herself the shakiness was only excitement due to an imminent ticket, but deep down she knew it wasn’t true. The man literally made her swoon.

“I’m sorry, officer. I’m late for my art class. Last night’s storm knocked out the power and my alarm clock didn’t go off and now I’m late for my final exam.”

She handed him her driver’s license.

His face screwed into puzzlement as he looked at the plastic-sheathed license.

“Sara Brady?”

Sara nodded. She recognized the look on his face. Many people reacted the same way when they discovered who they were talking to.

“The Sara Brady? The wildlife artist?”

Again Sara nodded, suddenly feeling really embarrassed. “One and only.”

Now she would really be late.

“Wow! I’ve seen your paintings. The ones you donated for the Police Charity Ball this Saturday night. They’re really lifelike. I enjoyed them. A lot.”

“I’m glad you did, Officer?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m forgetting my manners. Jack. Jack Clarke.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jack Clarke.”

“Pleased to meet you, too, Mrs. Brady.”

Was he fishing? She decided to swallow the bait. Hook. Line. And sinker.

“Miss,” she replied.

“Really?” A pleasantly satisfied smile crossed his lips and he handed her back her license. You know I shouldn’t be doing this, Miss Brady.”

“Doing what?”

“Escorting you to your class. Where is it?”

Sara told him then she asked, “You’re not going to write me a ticket?”

“No way. Not after what you’ve done for the auction. Just stay close behind me, okay?”

Sara laughed, not believing her good luck. “Sure.”

They sped quickly but efficiently through the traffic jams. Within minutes, he led Sara into the parking lot of the university campus with a few minutes to spare.

“This is unbelievable,” Sara said excitedly as she lifted her briefcase out of the car and slammed the door shut. Turning to the officer, she was once again struck by his cornflower blue eyes and his wonderful smile.

“I really do appreciate your help, Officer Clarke. I’m in your debt.”

“Please call me Jack. And it was nothing.”

“Oh, believe me, it was something. They close the doors to the exam rooms promptly at eight. If I arrive late, I automatically get a failing grade.”

“In that case I’m glad I could help you out, Miss Brady.”

The hot way he stared at her made Sara blush.

“Thank you very much again for your help, Jack. It was really sweet of you. I guess I’d better get going now.”

Hesitantly she turned, not wanting to leave him just yet but knowing she had to or she wouldn’t get into the exam room.

“Miss Brady?”

“Yes,” she whirled around so quickly she almost lost her balance.

“I shouldn’t be doing this, but can I get your number?”

Her heart pounded crazily in her chest. Her knees suddenly felt weak.

“You already have my number.”

A puzzled expression fell across his face and a moment later, he brightened.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. On the paperwork accompanying the paintings.” He waved. “Good luck on your exam. I’ll call you.”

And he did.

That very night.

Theirs was a whirlwind romance. Inside a year, they were married. Soon after, they decided to have a family. Jack quit the force and they moved out of New York City, heading north into Canada to purchase the Peppermint Creek land from a friend who knew a widow who’d offered it at a price they couldn’t refuse.

And then they tried for a family.

Nothing happened.

They tried some more.

Still nothing.

Finally, they were both checked out by the doctor. Bad news had come in its worst form. Jack had an unusually low sperm count. The chances of getting pregnant the natural way were slim or next to nothing.

With the doctors encouragement they tried artificial insemination. After numerous unsuccessful tries, they finally gave up, resigning to waiting possibly many years to adopt. It wasn’t too long after, Sara discovered she was pregnant and by the old-fashioned method.

She remembered his reaction when the doctor first told them on that sunny summer day they were pregnant.

“Twins? We’re going to have twins?” Jack spluttered.

The doctor nodded slowly and smiled at both their shocked expressions.

“A baby. Oh, no, two babies! It totally blows my mind.” He ran a trembling hand through his wheat blond hair.

“How do you think I feel? I thought I had the flu for the last month.”

“Some flu. This is unbelievable.” He twirled the hairs on his large mustache. An endearing gesture he used whenever stumped. Unexpectedly he let out a loud joyful whoop that quite visibly frightened the doctor and made her laugh. Suddenly he was taking her into his arms, swinging her around and around until she felt dizzy.

“Jack! Put me down,” Sara pleaded.

He stopped and placed her feet delicately but firmly on the ground. His arms tightened around her waist as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “I love you, Sara. I love you so much I could die.”

A tremendous jolt shook them both and suddenly Jack tensed in her arms. Then he was falling. Blood pouring from a bullet hole between his eyes. Sara screamed. And screamed.

Sara awoke in a cold sweat and alarm rippling along her nerves. A frosty sense of foreboding settled over her, making her shiver in the gray light of dawn.

The horrible dream was back.

Please
, she prayed, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Don’t let the dream start again. Don’t let it start!

—

Sara spent the entire day trying to forget the horrible nightmare as she busied herself with getting together some more orders of peppermint products for the general store in town. The locals may think she was crazy, but it didn’t prevent them from buying her products.

Late in the morning, Tom woke to eat a hearty bowl of vegetable soup and a huge chunk of her homemade bread then drifted off into his nightmare-infested dreams once more. By late evening he looked halfway healthy.

His eyes burned bright with curiosity and his stomach was eager to chow down another bowl of vegetable soup, some mashed potatoes and Jell-O. Despite her protests and warnings that it may still be too heavy on his stomach, he managed to finagle a huge chunk of pound cake out of her.

She stood at the foot of his bed enjoying the way he wolfed down the last bite of his second helping. It was then she decided to ask the one nagging question she’d been dying to ask.

“Who gave you the note with my name on it?”

He stopped chewing and threw her a suspicious look.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Sara said, suddenly feeling guilty. “I was just looking for some identification. I found the note in your pocket.”

He nodded. “I guess I’d do the same.”

“Do you remember anything as to why someone would send you here?”

Disappointment coursed through her as he shook his head. “No. The note is the only clue I have. I don’t even know if it has anything to do with me. I might have picked it up somewhere.”

“I might have an idea.”

At her comment, his head snapped up so quickly that he winced in pain, but his eyes shone with eager anticipation.

“But you aren’t going to like it,” she added.

He frowned. “Tell me anyway. Anything’s better than having this horrible blank spot in my brain.”

“While you were delirious you said things.”

“Things?” he asked cautiously.

“You gave me the impression the police don’t have a high opinion of you.”

He frowned and her heart ached for him. “You may as well just say it. I’m a criminal.”

“I see you’ve already come to that conclusion.”

She came around to the side of the bed and sat down. “Any ideas you’d like to share?”

He nibbled thoughtfully on his lower lip as if trying to decide if he should tell her something.

“Mrs. Clarke—”

“Sara.”

“Okay. Sara—” he tried a half-concerted smile “—I’m afraid I might be dangerous to you. I mean by the way I attacked you with the gun.” He hesitated for a moment then continued. “And I’ve also had dreams. Dreams where I’m doing illegal things like paying off pimps and buying drugs and—”

“I know.”

The look of surprise on his face made Sara laugh. “Like I said, you’ve been talking in your sleep. From what I can guess, I think you might have been sent here to get help from my father-in-law. He’s a criminal defense lawyer and my sister is a private investigator. We can ask her to investigate what happened to you.”