Rose Quartz (11 page)

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’d never let a woman support me.”

“Poor as a church mouse, are you?”

“Woman, you dig your heels in and just don’t let go, do you?” he complained. “Okay, maybe I’ve got some money put aside. I’ve lived pretty frugally most of my adult life but I’d hardly be able to support your lifestyle, not that I’m asking to,” he added hastily.

She grimaced. This wasn’t the reaction she was used to where men were concerned. Deciding she didn’t want her ego to take a bigger hit than it already had, Bella changed the subject. “I guess it was pretty foolish of us to assume a gangster like Johnny Morelly would keep his word.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed and he frowned, his forehead wrinkling. “That move tonight was out of character. What keeps Morelly at the top of the heap in his world is his word. It’s law. When he says he’s going to break a kneecap, he breaks it. Did you notice how he deliberated before he made us an offer? He wanted to be sure he could keep to it.”

“Yet he was willing to make a deal with us,” she pointed out.

He tapped the steering wheel. “That in itself was surprising.”

She grinned and shot him a devilish look. “Maybe he didn’t want to tangle with you.”

“More likely he didn’t want to mar the perfection of your face. No man would.”

“Is that a compliment?” She couldn’t help herself. She fluttered her lashes and flirted. “Maybe this is the first step in our getting to know each other better.”

His eyes lit and his lips stretched upward.

Bella felt her poor heart give a hard knock against her chest.

“I can be had but I ain’t cheap and I ain’t easy.” He gave her a wicked grin then turned his attention back to traffic.

Bella blinked and her mouth dropped open. Was the stoic Hank McHenry flirting back? It must be the effects of the amulet.

He took his eyes off the road long enough to grin at her. “I’ve been wanting to use that line ever since I heard it in a movie.”

“Sugar, I think the sooner you give me back the amulet the better.”

“Are you changing the subject?” He frowned, confused.

“Not at all, I’m used to dealing with the ruggedly handsome man of few words, Hank McHenry. I’m not used to dealing with a stud muffin.”

She gave him a long, appraising look that made him squirm. “Sugar, I always thought you were good looking but now you look as handsome as sin and twice as dangerous.”

“Well, for god’s sake.” Hank jerked. A rush of blood flooded his face, coloring it brick red. He turned away from her and stared at the road. Pressing against the seat with his back, he lifted his hips, dug the amulet out of his front pocket and tossed it at her.

She clamped it on her forearm and then sighed in pleasure. “Ah, I felt half dressed without it.”

“Maybe ‘cause you are half dressed,” he said dryly, glancing at her.

She shook her head. “You’re a caution.”

“Is that a step up or back from a stud muffin?”

She laughed. She’d never felt a link like this with a man before. Attraction as sharp and heated as lightning coursed between them. That aside, she loved his dry wit. And the way he considered what she said before he responded as if he really listened.

She respected him as a man. And he was a man, more so than anyone she knew, a real man in a world where heroes were no longer easy to find. A man who believed that a handshake was his word and that his word was his bond. A man who would lay down his life to protect those he loved. She’d never known a man like Hank McHenry and she had a strong feeling she never would again.

But she would not, could not, open herself to let a man walk away from her like her daddy had. Maybe it was just as well Hank McHenry had the mistaken idea she was leagues out of his reach.

She looked down at her cold sandwich and fries, no longer hungry. She felt a bone-deep sadness. Shoving her uneaten food in the sack and crumpling it up, she tossed it on the floorboard.

A soft snore from the backseat interrupted her painful cogitations. She twisted in her seat belt, looked at Maureen and smiled, glad to concentrate on something, anything but her dark thoughts. Maureen’s unruly mass of red curls was spread out on the seat, her mouth open.

“She snores when she’s tired,” Hank observed without turning his head.

“I remember.” And she did. This wasn’t the first time Maureen had taken on the pain of a loved one to heal them. Bella had watched her heal Jack, from the puddle of disintegrated muscle-mass that Victor Price had turned him into, back to a man again. “It was good of her and Jack to come. I owe her big time for this. Who’s taking care of the horses?”

“There’s a youngster down the road they asked to check on them while we were gone. They put the horses in the south pasture. Shouldn’t be any problems.”

Something in his voice made her glance over. He looked distracted. “A penny for them.” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“Your thoughts. A penny for them.”

“Where have you been, woman? Inflation being what it is, they’re worth at least five cents.”

She grinned. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you make a joke before.”

“And now you know why.”

“It wasn’t bad. I’d give you the five cents but I don’t even have my purse.” She grimaced. Life was going to be very interesting. A woman just didn’t travel without her purse.

He pulled a black clutch bag out of his jacket pocket and tossed it to her. “It was lying on the coffee table. I grabbed it on my way out.”

“Bless you, Hank McHenry.” She unfastened her seat belt, slid over and gave him a big, smacking kiss on the cheek. Before he could react she retreated and snapped the seat belt back in place.

He took his eyes off the road long enough to give her a lopsided grin then looked back at the road. “Well, I’d say that was worth every bit of five cents.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Either someone has put pressure on Johnny Morelly that’s too great to walk away from or someone else is in the mix,” he said, returning to the subject of Atlanta’s crime lord.

“Makes sense.” She leaned back in the seat, the leather wrapping around her. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know but I damn sure mean to find out.” His voice held no expression but the skin over his cheekbones was stretched taut, his jaw clenched. His hooded eyes boded ill for someone.

An involuntary shiver rolled over her.

He must have seen her out of the corner of his eye because he asked, “Are you cold?”

“Not really.” She took a sip of coffee which had dropped from steaming hot to lukewarm. “I’m just a bit tired.”

His voice softened. “You’ve had a pretty rough night. Why don’t you rest a bit?”

“Perhaps I will.” She sat her coffee in the holder between their seats and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, Hank was gently shaking her shoulder. “We’re home, Bella.”

She looked up as the back door of the SUV opened. A handsome man with high cheekbones and black hair as shiny as a raven’s wing opened the back door. His gorgeous hair hung to his shoulders and fell forward when he lifted Maureen out of the car.

Maureen wrapped herself around him. He held her close, burying his head in her fiery hair.

Hank grumbled. “You’d think it had been months since they’ve seen other instead of hours.”

Bella laughed. “Hello again, Jack.”

He looked up. “Welcome home, Bella. Come on into the house.”

She looked around. Little had changed since her last visit except perhaps the seasonal flowers. Before there had been brown-eyed Susans. Now a bed of bold yellow daffodils bloomed in a huge mass on each side of the old porch’s wide steps. As she crossed them, she couldn’t believe how good it felt to be back.

Jack carried Maureen into the house and upstairs where she would sleep the clock around as her body recovered from the laying on of hands.

“Come on,” Hank said, heading toward the stairs. “I’ll show you your room. You can have the attic room Jack was in. He’s pretty much moved in with Maureen.”

She arched a brow as they climbed the stairs, their heels clicking against the old oak steps. “Pretty much?”

“I can assure you anything he’s got left up there will be out by nightfall.”

He opened the door and stood back to let her pass. She felt a flash of heat as their bodies brushed but other than a slight tightening of his lips, he gave no sign that he’d noticed anything.

She walked into the room and looked around, charmed. The walls were painted an antique white. A picture of a black Arabian that looked like Maureen’s Wings rested on the far wall. Lacy white curtains fluttered at the two dormer windows. She walked over and looked out. Her breath caught in her throat. The land spoke to her. Green rolling hills that seemed to stretch on forever.

Hank walked over and stood beside her. “Like it?”

“It’s magnificent. I feel as if I belong on it.” She shrugged, embarrassed. “I must be more tired than I realized, I’m getting fanciful.”

“Not at all.” For some reason her answer seemed to please him.

“Part of Maureen’s land?”

He shook his head.

“Who owns it?”

He evaded the question. “How about if I take you for a ride one of these days and introduce you to the owner? There’s a small creek that runs dead center of the property at the base of the hills. We can take a picnic.”

“Will the owner mind?”

“At having a beautiful woman picnicking on his property? No.” He reached over and kissed her on the forehead. “Rest, Bella, you’re more tired than you realize.” He turned and walked out, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Pushy, pushy,” she muttered and flopped down on the bed. From the bed she glanced out for one last look at the lush, rolling hills and closed her eyes. “Well, maybe just for a moment,” she murmured.

* * * * *

The next thing she was aware of was the sleepy chirpings of early-rising sparrows greeting the day. She blinked, opened her eyes and stretched. Good god. She’d gone to sleep in the late afternoon and now it was morning.

Puss–Puss rubbed against her, then lowered his head to his front paws, hiked his tail in the air and stretched.

“Good morning to you too.” She rubbed noses with the sleek white cat then pushed herself off the bed, the mattress creaking under her.

She wandered over to the window. Unlatching the little stand-alone screen, she put her elbows on the window ledge, leaned her head out and breathed in the tart, fresh air.

Looking at the rolling hills, she felt her heart rise. What was it about the land that touched her so?

Her fingers itched for a paintbrush. She wanted to paint those rolling hills and she wanted to paint them with a band of Arabians galloping over them, manes waving in the breeze, forelegs lifted high churning away the miles. “I’ve got to get to town and buy some paint supplies.”

Taking one last long look over the rolling emerald hills, she turned her mind to cleaning up. The attic room had its own small bathroom so that was no problem but what to wear? She looked down ruefully at her thousand-dollar designer silk that hung on her body in tatters. Grimacing, she headed to the bathroom. She might have to put rags back on but at least she’d be clean.

Bella stopped as she passed a pine dresser. A stack of clean clothes lay neatly folded on top of it. “Bless your heart, Maureen.” She grinned. A blessing from a Southerner was a two-edged sword. It could be sincere or it could be the equivalent of a Yankee curse. In this case it was sincere.

She picked up a soft-as-silk olive pleated skirt with a drawstring waist and peasant-style white muslin top. A wide grin split her face as she lifted up a pair of black thong panties with her thumb and forefinger and studied the waistband. Who would have thought Miss No-nonsense Sinclair was a Victoria’s Secret junkie?

Whistling, she headed for the shower. Thank goodness Maureen hadn’t given her jeans to wear. Bella would never have fitted her size-eight hips into Maureen’s size-four pants.

Her rumbling stomach hurried her through the shower. She brushed her hair with a brush she found in the bathroom, stepped into her clothes and touched her amulet for a glamour makeover then headed downstairs.

The lovely smell of fresh coffee and the sound of voices grew closer as she neared the kitchen.

“How about April tenth?” The sensual male voice belonged to Jack.

“A week from today?” Maureen inquired.

“Yes. What do you think?”

“Sure, if it’s okay with Bella.” Maureen replied. Bella could hear the smile in her friend’s voice.

What a perfect entrance line. “If what’s okay with Bella?” She strolled to the counter, poured herself a cup of steaming black coffee then sashayed to the table.

“Getting married,” Jack said.

Blinking, she turned around. Maureen, Jack and Hank sat at the table, all of them grinning like hyenas.

“You want to get married in a week,” she asked faintly, falling into her chair. “How many people are we talking about inviting?”