Someone Like Her (9 page)

She waved at the pot of chrysanthemums on the windowsill and the two bouquets on a bedside stand. He’d bought one himself downstairs in the gift shop, and had seen from the card that the other was from Lucy and George, the grocer. “Until your mom opens her eyes, she can’t see them. But if we brought really fragrant flowers, maybe she could smell them.”

What an idiot he’d been. Of course she was right. Adrian wanted to stand right that minute and go drag a florist away from his dinner table to make up a new bouquet.

“Like what?” he asked. “Roses?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Most florists’ roses are hybrid teas and might as well be plastic. Oriental lilies—they have a powerful fragrance. No, I know what! Mom has an early lilac. We can cut our own bouquet.” She smiled impishly at him. “We can do it tonight. I won’t even ask. Mom’ll never notice a few missing branches.”

God, she was beautiful.

Stunned by the power of his realization, Adrian
wondered how he’d been so oblivious in the beginning. No, he knew why—he was used to hothouse flowers, showy and pampered. The women in his world visited their salon weekly for manicures and facials; they applied makeup skillfully, wore three-inch heels and shopped for clothes at Nordstrom or the downtown boutiques. Any pets were elegant purebreds, and the women’s cars as expensive as they were.

His gaze moved over Lucy’s face, now in profile, savoring her high, curved brow, the wing of her cheekbones, the slightly pointy chin with a hint of a cleft, the scattering of freckles on skin that had the translucence of a child’s. She’d acquired a scratch across one cheek today, courtesy of Zepherine Drouhin, but she’d only laughed and wiped away beads of blood onto her shirt hem.

He wasn’t sure what her prized climbing rose would look like in bloom, but she made him think of a wild rose—pale pink, perhaps, without complicated whorls, the few simple petals perfectly arranged on long, arching canes, the scent elusive and sweet.

Adrian didn’t know how it had happened, when he’d only known her a few days, but he couldn’t imagine driving away from Middleton without planning to see her again.

You know people. Lean on them. Find her the perfect job.

What if a restaurant like Veil or Earth & Ocean offered her a job as sous chef? That was the opportunity she’d dreamed about. Would she follow him to Seattle?

Did wild roses transplant into urban, postage-stamp-size gardens?

Why not? he thought recklessly. She longed for a life
more sophisticated than Middleton could give her. People here wouldn’t change; fifty years from now, they’d still expect clam chowder on the menu every Friday. As talented as she was, she deserved better.

And he liked the idea of having her in his life, of exploring where this peculiar blend of tenderness and hunger he felt would take them.

“She squeezed my hand!” Lucy turned to him, her mouth forming a circle of delighted astonishment. “I’m sure she did!”

Adrian smiled at her, relaxing now that he’d figured out a course of action.

Find his mother a place in the best assisted-living facility in Seattle, and Lucy a job at her dream restaurant.

He didn’t let himself think about the garden she’d created that weekend, or the café that bore her stamp, or the family that aroused amusement, exasperation and love in her. The family that sustained her.

Middleton wasn’t that far from Seattle. She could visit. Maybe even keep the house.

And if she didn’t like Seattle…His jaw tightened. Well, maybe he’d find that whatever he felt for her here evaporated in the real world.

“Show me,” he said, and leaned forward to see the slender, long-fingered hand of this surprising woman wrapped around the arthritic hand of his mother.

And damned if he wouldn’t have sworn the clawlike fingers tightened and clung to Lucy…who was beaming.

“You’re coming back to us, aren’t you? Thank goodness! We miss you so much. We’re waiting, Elizabeth.” Her voice had a hitch, softened. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he echoed, believing for
the first time that she would wake up, that he would have a chance to become reacquainted with the mother who had disappeared from his life so many years ago.

His heart seemed to swell in his chest, and he sat back in his chair.

What would it be like? Having her back? Discovering the history he hadn’t understood as a child? Learning, perhaps, to hate his father?

Lucy would listen if he had to talk, he thought involuntarily. He could deal with anything, if she were there.

Damn it, he had to find a way.

A
DRIAN INSISTED
on taking Lucy to dinner again that evening, this time at the Steak House.

He seemed…different tonight, she kept thinking. Less tense, more confident, even expansive. She blossomed under the full force of his charm even as she felt wary.

It was relief, she tried to tell herself. She felt a little of that giddiness, too. It was really beginning to seem that the hat lady would come out of the coma and be herself again. And imagine how much stronger the spark of hope must be for Adrian!

On Friday, he’d discovered the mother he thought long dead was alive. He’d spent the past three days recovering his memories of her and at the same time assimilating the likelihood that she would never regain consciousness or know that he had found her. And now…now it looked like she would. Why wouldn’t he feel like celebrating?

They waited until dusk to drive to her mother’s street. Lucy knew it was silly to sneak in to her own parents’ yard and steal lilac blossoms, but she didn’t want to
knock and have to introduce Adrian to her father and whatever stray aunts or cousins happened to be over, embroiling them both into an explanation of the change in the hat lady’s condition.

Everything else in her life had to be shared with the family grapevine; that was the price of having their support. But she didn’t want to share Adrian. And especially not what she felt for him, which she was terribly afraid was writ bright on her face to anyone who knew her well.

Like her mother, father or any stray aunts or cousins. Or, God forbid, her sister, who knew her best of all.

Anyway, Lucy could just imagine her father peering at her over his reading glasses, doubt weighting his voice. “Her cheek has a tic? And her eyes are rolling behind the lids, but she isn’t opening them? And Ben says this means something?”

That was her father: the Eeyore of the Peterson clan. He always saw the dark cloud on the horizon. She loved him dearly, but she didn’t think Adrian needed an introduction tonight.

She had Adrian park three houses down. The neighborhood dated from the fifties, and trees were large and leafed out with spring. Several of the neighbors had large lilac bushes in their yards, too, but none had blooms as far advanced as her mother’s.

She and Adrian hurried through a pool of light cast by the streetlamp, then slowed in the dark beyond, peering past a snowball bush in full bloom.

“That’s my parents’ house,” she whispered, indicating the brick rambler.

“You grew up there?” He spoke in a low voice, too.

Lucy nodded. “The lilac is the one by the front window.”

The house blazed with lights. As they watched, a figure moved in front of the window. Samantha. Why was Samantha here? Lucy wondered indignantly, and knew the answer. Probably Mom had invited her so she could tell the family all about Adrian. By this time, they must know how much time Lucy was spending with him. She’d seen enough heads turn as cars passed her yard today while they were working.

Pull the drapes,
she willed her sister, who instead turned and looked out the window. Lucy gripped Adrian’s hand and held him back.

“Wait.”

He nodded. She couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t disentangle his hand from hers.

“Okay, now,” she whispered, when her sister turned and disappeared toward the kitchen.

“Is that Samantha?” Adrian murmured in her ear. “I thought she was supposed to be turning down my bedcovers and putting a chocolate on my pillow right about now.”

“She’s probably already done it.”

She’d never asked what he thought of her much prettier sister. He hadn’t talked about her beyond mentioning that Sam had told him about his mother’s routine. With a pang of jealousy, Lucy speculated on whether her sister poured him a cup of tea and sat down to talk to him every night when he got back to the B and B. Sam was exceptionally easy to talk to. She’d never gone through the suspicious stage as a child that Lucy had. Mom made a point of telling people that even as a baby Samantha had grinned happily at complete strangers. She was a born hostess.

Mom invariably chuckled at that point. “My Lucy, why she glared at everyone at that age!”

Right now, Lucy quit worrying about Sam as she and Adrian hurried across the springy grass and pressed their backs against the brick wall of the house, just as her father walked across the living room. He didn’t even glance toward the window. Once he’d vanished from sight, Lucy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Do you have the clippers?” she asked.

Adrian pressed them into her hand, nurse to her surgeon. She couldn’t see very well; night had crept upon them from the dusk they’d started in. But she snipped several branches, freezing every time she saw movement inside.

By the time she backed away, it was all she could do not to giggle.

“The front door!” Adrian murmured in her ear, with an urgency that had her dropping to a crouch beside him. He took the clippers from her.

“I’d better get back, Mom.” Samantha’s voice came easily to their ears.

“You’re so busy you can never stay,” Lucy’s mother complained. “If you’re going to have guests seven days a week, you need to bring in some help. Bridget’s looking for a job, you know.”

“Lucy already hired her,” Sam said. “Anyway, I can’t afford help yet. Maybe by summer, if business is good.”

“I know it will be.” They embraced.

Samantha went to her car out on the street without ever looking toward where her sister and Adrian crouched beside the lilac. The front door remained open,
spilling light onto the porch and walkway, until Sam was safely in her car and had started the engine. Then Lucy heard her father call something from another room, and her mother begin to answer. The door closed, cutting her off, and Samantha drove away.

Lucy’s giggle escaped, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, dear. I should have knocked and told Mom I wanted to cut a bouquet. She wouldn’t have minded.”

“We don’t want her to catch us now. God knows what she’d think.”

She gave a hiccup. “Oh, no!”

“Shh!” She could tell from his voice that he wanted to laugh, too. “Come on. Let’s run.”

They raced across the lawn, Adrian towing Lucy, who clutched her stolen lilac branches in the other hand. Not until they’d reached the sidewalk and passed the big snowball bush that hid them from her parents’ house did they stop, their laughter spilling out.

She hiccuped again, and they laughed even harder. It seemed natural to feel Adrian’s arm around her, his breath against her cheek.

“You got the flowers?”

“Can’t you smell them?” She held the armful up and he breathed in.

“You’re a genius.”

“Of course I am,” she said on another bubble of laughter. Or was it a hiccup?

“More than a genius.” His voice had changed, deepened. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

She went still inside the circle of his arm. “Trespassing on my parents’ property?”

“In Middleton. Finding my mother.” So quietly she barely heard him. “Finding you.”

His hand touched her neck, slid up the column of her throat and lifted her chin. The next moment, his lips found hers.

W
HEN
L
UCY’S MOUTH
immediately softened and parted for his, Adrian forgot where they were. He forgot everything but her.

He crushed her to him, the scent of lilacs rising, and feasted on her mouth. She tasted of the Chardonnay she’d sipped with dinner, of the laugh she’d swallowed barely a moment ago. She was slim and taut and yielding, all at the same time.

Arousal was instant. Every sensation felt heightened: the cool night air, the pillow of her breasts pressed against his chest, the vibration in her throat, the stroke of her tongue. He gripped her hips and pulled her tighter against him even as her arm encircled his neck and she made a whimpering sound.

The blaze of the headlights of an approaching car seared Adrian’s eyes through closed lids. He groaned and reluctantly lifted his head.

“Unless we want the whole town gossiping…”

“Oh, no!” she breathed, not the most flattering response she could have made. She whirled and started toward the car, not waiting to see the way his hands dropped heavily to his sides.

He hadn’t locked the doors; she was already sitting
on the passenger side by the time the car passed them, headlights silhouetting her briefly, and Adrian got in behind the wheel. She sat rigidly, staring straight ahead.

He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. “Did I crush the flowers?”

“The flowers…? Oh.” Her head bent as she looked down at them, although he didn’t know how much she could see. “No. I held them, um, to the side.”

“Okay.” He waited.

“Why don’t we go to my house?” Lucy spoke in a rush. “I can trim them and put them in a vase. Then if you want you can drop them at the hospital tonight.”

You
can drop them at the hospital.
No more
we.

Adrian had believed himself to be reasonably skilled at the games men and women played. Now, he had absolutely no idea what to say. Hadn’t they been working their way toward a kiss? Why did she seem upset?

“You won’t come with me?” he asked, baffled.

“Oh, I don’t think I’d better. I should never have taken so much time off this weekend. I need to work on my books this evening….” Her voice trailed off.

It might even be true. As a small-business owner, she likely did devote her days off to such tasks as accounting and ordering. But given that he guessed it was now eight o’clock, he wondered how much she’d actually get done tonight.

He nodded anyway, even if Lucy couldn’t see, and started the car. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry?” Her head turned sharply.

“That you can’t take the time to come. Since this was your idea.”

“You’ll let me know if…if she responds?”

“I’ll let you know.” He drove several blocks. “I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

“I’m…not sorry you did, either.” She sounded so constrained, he couldn’t tell what she felt.

“You don’t seem happy.”

“I just need to…well, think about it. Okay? I mean, you’re here for a week. That’s pretty temporary.”

“Seattle isn’t that far,” he said mildly, although his hands had tightened on the steering wheel.

“I’ve had the impression you could hardly wait to see the last of Middleton. You’re eager to move your mother.” Her voice was even now, so reasonable it ticked him off.

“Give me a little credit,” he said, anger edging every word. “I was somewhat in shock when you walked in and announced that the mother I thought was dead had been hanging around this little town for ten years. You think I should have embraced Middleton immediately?”

“You didn’t have to be…to be condescending.”

“What makes you think I was? You’re sure it wasn’t in your own mind?”

“Oh, come on. You were blown away to find out that Dr. Slater was actually competent enough to treat your mother.”

Her hostility couldn’t have been born this minute, Adrian realized in shock. He’d been right when he thought she didn’t like him.

“Do you blame me? Small community hospitals don’t have neurosurgeons.”

“Did you think a small community hospital had a doctor competent to set a broken bone?”

He wrenched the wheel, pulled to the curb in front of her house and braked so abruptly, the seat belt bit into
his shoulder. Adrian turned to glower at her. Light from a streetlamp let him see that she was fumbling one-handed to release her seat belt, and she looked…panicky.

No. God. On the verge of tears.

“Let me.” He reached out.

“No!” She batted at his hand. “I can get it!”

He felt dense. It shouldn’t have taken him so long to realize that he’d scared her. He didn’t entirely understand why a kiss would have that effect, but he knew he wasn’t wrong.

“Lucy…”

“What?” she snapped.

He sat very still, trying to make himself unalarming. “I really am sorry. It was…”
Impulsive
would be insulting, and not even entirely true. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you.”

There was a moment during which she didn’t move. Then, with a sigh, she sat back in the seat. “No, I’m sorry. I think I panicked. You’re…a little out of my league.”

He stared at her. “What in hell does that mean?”

“You’re successful, rich. Hot. I live in some little town. I cook. I’m nothing special to look at.” She let out another gusty sigh. “And I sound pathetic, don’t I? I don’t even mean it. I
like
myself. But I can’t possibly be the kind of woman you usually—”

Adrian kissed her again. Roughly, passionately, and his fingers shoved into her hair so she couldn’t escape. He let her go as suddenly.

“I don’t see it that way.” His voice was hoarse.

She gulped. He heard her.

“Oh.”

“If you don’t like me, say so. But don’t put yourself
down. You’re an extraordinary woman. What you did for my mother out of sheer kindness puts me to shame.”

“That doesn’t make me—”

When she stopped, he asked, “What?”

“Pretty,” she whispered. Then, louder, “Sexy.”

Baffled, Adrian said, “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t think you were both.” How had she developed such low self-esteem? He tried not to think about his own original assessment of her. He’d been blind. An idiot.

After a moment she nodded. “Okay.”

She sounded so damned equable, he could only repeat, “Okay what?”

“I like it that you think I’m pretty and sexy. And that you kissed me. And I’m sorry I was so…so oldmaidish about it.”

Good God, was she a
virgin?
Was it possible in this day and time?

Not likely in Seattle, but in Middleton…who knew? Adrian examined the idea and discovered that he didn’t mind. Mild way of saying that he was getting aroused, thinking of it.

“You sure you don’t want to come to the hospital with me?” he asked, when he wanted to say,
To hell with your sister’s place. Can I spend the night?

“Of course I will. I was being silly. Come on, let’s put these in water.” She flicked her seat belt off and opened the door with no trouble now that she’d calmed down.

He followed her into the house, watched her choose a vase from several in a kitchen cupboard, deftly trim the stems and arrange the spray of lilac blossoms. Their scent filled the kitchen as she worked, so heady he
thought,
I’ll never be able to smell lilacs again without thinking of Lucy. Of this moment.

Lucy carried the bouquet to the car and let him buckle her seat belt. As they drove, with occasional streetlamps or headlights illuminating her face, Adrian asked, “Why do you think you’re nothing special to look at?”

She was silent for a long time. He began to be sorry he’d asked. But at last Lucy said, “You know Samantha. And my other sister Melissa is a senior at WSU over in Pullman. They’re both way prettier than I am. They got the blue eyes and blond hair. And curls! I heard people sometimes say that one or the other was the pretty Peterson girl. It was never me.”

She had tried very hard to sound matter-of-fact, as if knowing what people said about the Peterson sisters didn’t hurt her, not at all. But he also wondered if all this was in her head, because he couldn’t see it, not when he pictured the sister he did know.

Adrian shook his head in disbelief. “Samantha’s pretty in that Barbie-doll way. But you…You’re classy.” He felt inarticulate, rare for him, an attorney skilled at riveting the attention of juries. Maybe he was better in the courtroom than in personal relationships. Usually he could tell a woman she was beautiful and that was all he had to say. But Lucy’s vulnerability made it important for him to get this right. “You have gorgeous skin and great cheekbones and a directness I hardly ever see. Maybe most of all, what you did for my mother makes you one in a million. I keep looking at you and thinking—”

He stopped, not wanting to put this into words. His longing was too unformed. She had a capacity for caring
greater than anyone he’d ever known. When she loved, it would be completely. He could depend on that love.

He could trust her not to leave him.

Jolted, Adrian hardly heard Lucy ask, “Thinking what?”

That
was what he believed deep inside? That no woman would love him enough to stay?

Why not?
some voice inside asked.
If your own mother ditched you, how likely is it someone else will stick it out?

He
was usually the one to end relationships. The one who got bored. The one who couldn’t imagine waking to that woman’s face every morning for the next fifty years.

Or had he made damn sure he never cared enough to be sliced to the bone when she left him?

He pulled in to a parking spot at the hospital, set the emergency brake and turned his head to look at Lucy, who was watching him in puzzlement. Maybe, he thought, he just hadn’t met the right woman.

Until now.

Sure. How did he know any such thing? It was this damn town. His head had been spinning since he got here. He shouldn’t have canceled his appointments. A few days in Seattle would have given him some perspective. His mother didn’t need him. Either she was going to wake up or not. He was deluding himself to think it was his voice leading her out of the fog.

Adrian also knew, looking at Lucy’s anxious face, that he was glad not to be leaving Middleton tomorrow. He had close to a week during which he could spend as much time as possible with Lucy, figure out what he felt and where it was going. He had the sudden, reckless re
alization that he had been as happy today as he could ever remember being.

So to hell with perspective and distance. He’d grab what he could while he was here. Real life would intrude soon enough.

“I keep thinking I’ve never met anyone like you,” he heard himself say. “And I want to figure out what makes you different.”

“Hmm.” She grinned at him. “You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart.”

“You can cook,” he agreed.

“Wait’ll you taste my potato soup.”

“I might never want to leave Middleton.”

Her smile faded; it seemed as if her eyes became more shadowed. But she said, “Hey, you never know. Shall we go see your mom?”

He agreed and they got out. Walking into the hospital, he had a strange feeling in his gut.

Never leave Middleton? That had been a joke.
Was
a joke. But something told him it was different for Lucy. She flirted with the idea of leaving Middleton, but would she really?

He found that he really wanted to know the answer to that question.

A
DRIAN GLANCED
uneasily around. “I know Middleton is old-fashioned, but, uh, did we just cross some spacetime continuum?”

It was the following Saturday night, and Lucy had taken a break to walk him out to his car after he had dinner at the café.

Now she followed his gaze to the teenagers sashay
ing down the sidewalk and laughed. The girls wore poodle skirts and ponytails, and the boys had hair greased back.

“Tonight’s the Spring Fling at the high school. I’m one waitress short because of it. Some of the kids must be grabbing a bite before they go on to the dance. The theme is always the Fifties. I don’t actually know why.”

“Wasn’t there a high school in Middleton in the 1940s? What did they do then?”

“Heaven knows. Maybe you should ask Elton.”

He’d had lunch the other day with Elton Weatherby, Middleton’s one and only attorney. Elton had been alone at a table at her café when Adrian came in. He’d waved off Mabel, gone over to Elton and asked if he could join him. Lucy had started out of the kitchen when she first saw Adrian, and had been delighted to hear Elton say, “I hear you’re a colleague, young man. By all means! By all means, pull out a chair.” He’d swiveled in his chair. “Where’s that girl? I’ve already put in an order. Now, where in tarnation has she gotten herself to? If you haven’t tried the soups here, you really should.”

“I’ve been having at least a meal a day here,” Adrian had said. “Lucy’s soups are damn good.”

Smiling, she had gone back to the kitchen and left them to…what? Tell war stories? What
did
two attorneys discuss? Hateful judges and heroic courtroom stands? Did a corporate attorney ever make passionate pleas before a jury? She had no idea.

She hadn’t actually thought to query him about what he and Elton had talked about, even though she had somehow spent quite a lot of time with Adrian that week, despite her work schedule. She’d joined him a
couple of mornings for breakfast at Samantha’s. Sometimes when he came in to eat at the café, she took a break and sat with him for twenty minutes or half an hour. She’d gone to the hospital with him three mornings that week.

And then there was last night, when he’d stopped by at closing and followed her car home. They had sat out on her porch glider in the dark and made out like a couple of teenagers. She’d flushed every time she thought about it today.

She had found herself singing at odd moments all week. It felt so different, having somebody waiting when she closed the restaurant, or calling at bedtime to talk about their days, or choosing his seat in the café so he could see her whenever she popped out of the kitchen. Somebody who so plainly liked to touch her. Just the way he laid a hand on the small of her back to guide her on the sidewalk made her knees weak.