The Hero’s Sin (3 page)

Her fingers fell away from his temple, and he squashed a crazy desire to capture her hand and press it against his heart.

“The boy’s parents were asking about you. They wanted to know your name so they could thank you.” Her smile grew. “I’d like to know it, too, but I should introduce myself first.” She stuck out a slim hand. Like her other, it was ringless. “Sara Brenneman. I’m new in town. Haven’t been here a week yet.”

He folded her hand in his and again felt the warmth. The confidence he’d glimpsed in her walk was also evident in her grip. “Michael Donahue.”

He might not have picked up on the way her body tensed if he hadn’t been shaking her hand. Modulating
the pitch of his voice to disguise his disappointment, he let go of her hand. “I take it you’ve heard of me.”

She didn’t avoid the question, which heightened his opinion of her. “I overheard some people talking about how you were back in town.”

She didn’t recoil, so that was probably all she’d heard. For now. She’d get the rest of the story soon enough.

The silence between them stretched a few beats, then she said, “I hope you’re back for good.”

That would be unthinkable.

“I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.” He didn’t tell her where he was going, but then his plan was hazy. He figured he’d head north on Highway 80 until he felt like stopping, possibly somewhere he could rent a place on a lake with access to a boat. The paperwork for his next assignment should come through any day, telling him which exotic nation he was headed to next.

He swore disappointment descended over her features before she brightened. “Then let’s make the most of tonight. Will you sit with me at dinner?”

He hesitated, surprised he wanted to say yes.

She grimaced. “Please tell me I didn’t make a faux pas and proposition a married man.”

Proposition? She’d used the word in a nonsexual context but his body stirred. “Not married, but I’m leaving as soon as I get the caterer to move the van. My car’s blocked in.”

“The caterer will be too busy to do anything until after dinner,” she said. “Besides, you have to eat, right?”

He’d intended to grab a burger at the fast-food restaurant near his hotel. That plan seemed even less appealing with Sara Brenneman waiting for his answer.

“If you say no,” Sara said, “I’ll have to spend the reception hiding out in the restroom because every matchmaker in the hall is eyeing me.”

He chuckled. “You’re making that up.”

“Am not. Even the bride has me in her sights.”

“In that case,” he said, going with his gut, “how can I refuse?”

“Good.” Her smile reached her eyes, which struck him as sexy as hell. “I want to know all about you.”

He braced himself for questions as they walked back inside the building, but she provided answers, telling him about the solo general practice law firm she was set to open and ticking off her specialties: real estate, foreclosures, wills, probates, small business matters.

The best man, a friend of Johnny’s who’d moved to town after Michael left, was just finishing the toast when they entered the crowded hall. Panic flashed through Michael as he felt the eyes of the curious bore into them.

Sara had claimed a desire to get to know him better. More than a few people in the reception hall could tell her she wouldn’t like what she learned.

T
HE HERO
was uncomfortable.

Sara sensed it in the taut set of Michael’s shoulders while she led him to the table where the Dombrowskis waited. Marie waved, flashing the same sweet grin as when she’d invited Sara to sit with them.

Michael’s step faltered. “I thought you were here alone.”

“I came alone but they invited me to sit with them.” She smiled at him. It seemed she couldn’t stop smiling
at him. And why not? He was as modest as he was heroic. He smelled good, too. Like fresh air and warm skin. “You’ll like Marie and Frank. They’re new in town, like me. Retirees who like to kayak. And read. Marie wants to get me involved with Friends of the Library.”

His steps were still slow, causing her to stop dead. She knew nothing about him except he’d lived in Indigo Springs sometime in the past. She’d gotten the vague impression some residents didn’t welcome his return, but other guests had nodded at him in acknowledgement when they reentered the hall.

“I’ll understand if you’d rather sit with somebody else.” She grimaced. “Be disappointed, yes. But I will understand.”

He touched her bare arm, sending pleasure shooting through her. “There’s no one I’d rather sit with than you.”

Their eyes met, and she felt a connection that was tangible. Marie Dombrowski must have picked up on it, too, because she patted Michael on the hand after Sara performed the introductions. Once done making a fuss over the bruise on his forehead, she said, “Shame on Sara for not telling us she had a date. But where were you when she was boo-hoo-ing through the wedding?”

“I didn’t boo-hoo, I sniffled,” Sara protested. At this rate, she’d be known as the weeping lawyer before she opened her practice. “Weddings do that to me. And Michael isn’t my date. We just met outside.”

Marie’s mouth and eyes rounded comically. “You mean you left the hall and found a man?”

“Don’t knock it, Marie,” Frank Dombrowski inter
jected. “Some women know what they want when they see it.”

Sara laughed, even though Frank’s observation wasn’t far off the mark. “Michael’s not a complete stranger. I saw him res—”

“Our paths crossed yesterday.” Michael shifted in his chair, his broad shoulders rolling under his suit jacket. He had a naturally soft voice that made everything he said carry more importance. “Sara was nice enough to invite me to join her for dinner.”

“So you came alone, too?” Marie addressed Michael. “Don’t you live here in town?”

“Not anymore. I’m an old friend of the groom’s. How about you, Mrs. Dombrowski? Bride or groom?”

Sara got the distinct impression Michael didn’t want to talk about himself, but Marie seemed not to notice. “Groom. Frank and I contracted with Pollock Construction to redo our bathrooms, and we hit it off with Johnny. We just love him.”

Marie chattered happily on, taking a break only to fill her plate with kielbasa, pierogis and other Polish foods from the buffet table. The subject of home improvement was obviously a favorite topic. By dinner’s end, Sara knew a lot about the Dombrowskis but no more about Michael Donahue than she had when it began.

Sara was trying to figure out how to get Michael alone when the polka band struck its first chords.

Marie jumped up and extended a hand to her husband, who got obligingly to his feet. “I hope you two don’t mind if we desert you. Frank and I love to dance.”

“Have fun,” Sara said, then waited until the couple
was gone to remark to Michael. “You don’t say much about yourself, do you?”

“When somebody likes to talk as much as Marie,” he said, “there’s no point in denying her the pleasure.”

She suspected there was more to it than that, but she played along. “I told you all about my law practice, but I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

“I’m in construction.”

She was about to ask him to elaborate when the groom’s father approached him from behind and clapped him on the shoulders. Smiling, Michael turned.

“I’m glad you’re still here.” Mr. Pollock was an older, stockier version of his son with an open, engaging manner that was extremely likeable. His twinkling gaze drifted to Sara. “Do I have you to thank for that, Sara?”

Impressed he’d remembered her name after the brief meeting in the reception line, she joked, “You know what they say about lawyers and our powers of persuasion.”

Twin dimples appeared on Mr. Pollock’s face, making him look boyish. “Then maybe you can persuade him to stick around for a while. Our boy here’s a world traveler. Did he tell you he just got back from Africa?”

Africa?

“I didn’t think so,” Mr. Pollock said before Sara recovered from the surprise. To Michael, he said, “Please tell me you’re staying in the States for a while.”

“Can’t do that,” Michael said. “I already applied for another assignment, probably in Ghana, but maybe in El Salvador.”

As they spoke, Sara was aware of other guests watching them. Watching
Michael
. But even though
the reception was at least an hour old, only Mr. Pollock had approached him. She wondered why.

“If you ever decide to stay put, you know you have a job with me.” Mr. Pollock was about to say more when a willowy girl in her early teens with a mouthful of braces grabbed his hand.

“You said you’d dance with me, Uncle Nick,” she said, pulling him away as she spoke.

“Can you believe how shy this girl is,” he called to them over his shoulder, but he was laughing. “Catch you both later.”

Michael turned back around in his seat.

“Ghana? El Salvador?” Sara listed the countries. “I thought you said you were in construction.”

“
Overseas
construction,” he said. “I go where the work is.”

“Isn’t all that moving around tough on you?”

“It suits me,” he said.

“Not me. My dad was a navy JAG so we never stayed in one place for long when I was growing up. I think that’s why Indigo Springs appeals to me. You can put down roots here.”

He was silent.

“How long ago did you leave?” she asked.

“Nine years.” He gave her a wry smile. “And it’s time I left again. That catering truck should be gone by now.”

“You can’t go yet!” Sara reached across the table and placed her hand over his, feeling electricity shoot right to her core. The orchestra began to play a lively tune. “Not until you teach me to polka.”

He arched one of his dark eyebrows. “What makes you think I can polka?”

“You and Johnny are friends, so you must have picked it up somewhere along the way.” Her hand still covered his, even though there was no reason for it. She withdrew it reluctantly and stood up, knocking over a half-filled glass of white wine that splashed over her dress. “Oh, no! I need to run to the restroom and blot up this mess. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

She grabbed his arm and looked into his eyes, which were blue-gray, like the color of the river water. He nodded, but didn’t reply. She reluctantly let go and hurried to the restroom, casting a glance over her shoulder.

Despite the connection she felt when she touched him, she wasn’t sure Michael would be waiting when she returned.

M
ICHAEL WATCHED
the couples on the floor, deliberately not meeting anyone’s eyes. As soon as he danced one polka with Sara, he was out of here. He wouldn’t have stayed this long if not for that catering truck.

He expelled a short breath. Who was he kidding? The driver had probably moved that truck an hour ago. The reason Michael hadn’t left yet was wearing a pink and red dress.

“What the hell are you doing here, Donahue?” The words were slurred, but Michael recognized the voice before he saw the speaker.

Kenny Grieb, the ex-high-school jock Chrissy had dated before Michael. He wasn’t as lean or as muscular as he’d been in high school, but the bitterness in his expression was the same.

“I was invited,” Michael said.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Kenny drawled, moving closer as he talked. His floppy brown hair was untidy, his shirt coming loose from his dress slacks, his face flushed.

Michael had never been afraid of Kenny and wasn’t now, but put his hand up like a stop sign. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Too late.” Kenny took another step and nearly tripped over an empty chair. It upended and clattered to the floor, drawing attention.

If Michael didn’t get out of here soon, Kenny would create a scene and cast an ugly pall over Johnny’s wedding day.

Michael glanced in the direction Sara had gone but didn’t see her. Regret seized him that he wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I was just leaving,” he said.

“That’s right,” Kenny yelled, his voice competing with the polka music. “Get out and don’t come back.”

Michael’s hands fisted at his sides, but for Johnny’s sake he said nothing. He stopped only long enough to intercept Marie Dombrowski and ask her to give Sara his apologies.

Then he left, a prospect that no longer held the same appeal now that he’d met Sara.

Dusk had settled over the town, but the temperature had dipped into what felt like the sixties, downright cool compared to Niger’s heart. He removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, trying not to look back.

That was a problem of his. He usually couldn’t help looking back.

The catering truck was no longer double-parked behind his rental car, clearing a path for him to drive away from the reception. Away from Indigo Springs. Away from Sara, who had been a pipe dream anyway.

He took the keys out of his pocket and hit the remote. The lights of his PT Cruiser blinked on, sounding a short, shrill beep at the same time somebody called, “Not so fast, asshole.”

Great.

Kenny Grieb had followed him.

S
ARA RUSHED BACK
to the table, her dress damp from where she’d blotted up the wine. Her round trip had taken longer than expected because Johnny’s father waylaid her when she was exiting the restroom.

“Great to see you and Michael hitting it off,” Nick Pollock had said. “I get the feeling he doesn’t socialize much in the Peace Corps.”

“The Peace Corps!” Sara repeated. Why hadn’t she put that together herself when she learned of the far-flung places Michael had worked? “He never told me he was a volunteer.”

“Didn’t think he would. He’s sort of a serial volunteer. Been signing up for two-year assignments since he put himself through college. Holding down a full-time job at the time. He probably didn’t tell you that, either.”

“No,” Sara said. “But why are
you
telling me?”

“Because Michael’s a good man,” he’d said enigmatically, his expression suddenly serious. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Why would anyone say differently?”

He’d sighed and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Michael had it tough growing up. Did a couple of things he
shouldn’t have. Angered some people. But he got through it and turned himself into somebody to be proud of.”

Stop talking in circles!
she wanted to yell. Instead she thanked him for enlightening her, a sixth sense urging her to hurry back to Michael. His empty chair confirmed her intuition that he’d been about to bolt.

She surveyed the smiling couples twirling around the dance floor as the polka music played, hoping she was wrong, hoping Michael was among them. Somehow she knew she wouldn’t find him.

Marie Dombrowski spotted her and separated herself from her husband, her brows pinched together in what looked like sympathy. “Michael asked me to tell you he had to go.”

Sara must not have kept the dismay from her face, because Marie squeezed her hand. “I don’t think he wanted to leave, but another man—I didn’t recognize him but I do know he was drunk—was creating a scene. It seemed to me Michael left so there wouldn’t be trouble.”

Sara thought over what Nick Pollock had told her, but she didn’t have enough information about Michael’s past to figure out why somebody would accost him.

“He’s only been gone a few minutes,” Marie added. “If you hurry, you might be able to catch him.”

“Thanks.” Sara didn’t hesitate, heading for the exit as fast as her high heels would carry her. Before Michael disappeared, maybe forever, she at least wanted to say goodbye.

It wasn’t yet fully dark, but the outside lights were on, making it easy to spot Michael in the parking lot. Relief flooding her, she hurried down the sidewalk, then stopped
dead. He wasn’t alone. A man who had at least thirty pounds on Michael was charging him. The man cocked his arm, drew his shoulder back and let his fist fly.

“No!” Sara yelled, rushing forward to stop the madness.

Michael lifted a forearm, deftly blocking the punch. Then in a lightning quick motion, he grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it around his back, effectively incapacitating him.

“Leggo,” the man groaned, obviously in discomfort, obviously drunk.

“Not until you understand me.” Michael’s low, firm voice carried toward Sara. “If you cause another scene at my friend’s wedding, I’ll make you regret it.”

He released the man’s arm and shoved him. The man stumbled backward, nearly falling before catching his balance.

“Go drink some black coffee,” Michael ordered harshly.

The man’s face, slack from too much alcohol, filled with what looked like hatred. “Go back where you came from,” he muttered. “No one wants you here.”

It looked as though the man was thinking about initiating another attack, but he rejected the notion, returning to the VFW hall on unsteady feet.

“You.” He pointed at Sara as he passed her, his finger shaky. “You should watch who you ’sociate with.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Without waiting for his response, she walked to where Michael was bending down to pick up his suit jacket from the pavement.

Michael straightened, his suit jacket in hand, and gave her a wry look. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She looked toward the hall, confirming that the troublemaker had disappeared inside the building. “What I saw was you keeping that jerk from making trouble at your friend’s wedding.”

“I won’t argue with you there. Kenny Grieb’s bad news when he’s drunk.”

“What does he have against you?” Sara asked.

“A grudge,” Michael said, “which is why I’m leaving.”

She’d half expected him to be gone already when she came looking for him, but his declaration seemed to knock the wind from her. “What if I asked you not to go yet?”

“I wish things were different.” His eyes ran over her face like a caress. “But for your sake I should have left hours ago. I’m not exactly Mr. Popular.”

She couldn’t argue with that, but not everybody inside the hall had been hostile. Excluding the Pollocks, Michael hadn’t reached out to a single person. “You’re not exactly Mr. Congeniality either.”

He stared at her for a moment, then broke into a laugh. “Are you always this blunt?”

“Not always,” she said, “but usually.”

If she completely spoke her mind, she’d ask for details about why some people had a problem with him. Because she sensed the topic was a raw spot, she could wait until he was ready to tell her.

“Do you have a problem with an outspoken woman?” she asked.

“I have a problem with a woman jeopardizing her reputation in town by hanging out with me.”

“What reputation?” she retorted. “I just moved here. I don’t have a reputation.”

“You should be building one, and a wedding’s a good place to start.” He gestured toward the hall. “It’s not too late. Go network, make some new friends.”

“I can make friends tomorrow or the next day or the day after that,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere. But you are.”

“That’s right.” He looked toward the parking lot, then at her. If she hadn’t read regret in his gaze, she might have let him go.

“You don’t have to go until tomorrow morning, right? You don’t have anything pressing you need to do tonight? Anywhere you need to be?”

He narrowed his eyes as though it was a trick question. “No,” he said slowly.

“Then you can walk me home, because I’m leaving the reception, too.” She headed through the parking lot to the sidewalk adjacent to the street, her stomach turning somersaults at the prospect he might refuse. She didn’t know why she couldn’t let him leave just yet; she just knew that she couldn’t. “Coming?” she called over her shoulder.

She reached the sidewalk before conceding that he wasn’t following her. She took a deep breath, then turned around. He stood with his jacket in hand, his face half in shadows.

This is it,
she thought, a lump forming in her throat.

This is goodbye.

“I can’t leave my car here,” he said. “Kenny Grieb knows where it’s parked.”

She released the breath she’d been holding, allevi
ating the strain on her lungs. Without letting him in on the relief that made her legs feel weak, she strode toward him on her high-heeled shoes.

“Then let’s move your car,” she said.

M
ICHAEL FELT
as though he’d been transported to an alternate universe.

After Sara directed him to a parking space in a lot adjacent to a real-estate office, they’d taken a sidewalk that led through the heart of Indigo Springs. Despite architecture dating back more than a hundred years, he barely recognized the town.

“Tell me again why we didn’t park in the block where you live,” Michael said.

“I said you could walk me home, not drive me home,” she said. A woman who knew her own mind, he thought.

Restaurants, only a few of which were familiar, were doing a brisk business. Photographers, crafters, glass blowers and painters had taken over previously abandoned storefronts. A bike shop seemed to be on every block. People who looked like tourists strolled the sidewalks.

“What happened to the sleepy town I remember?” Michael asked as they passed the red and white awning of an ice-cream shop. “This hardly seems like the same place.”

“It woke up,” Sara said. “Mostly because of the mountain-bikers and the hikers. At least, according to my real-estate agent. She said prices are low enough here for people to afford second homes.”

Even with the evidence of change all around, Michael had a tough time accepting that the heart of the
town was different. Especially when they approached Abe’s General Store, a place that seemed frozen in time, right down to the red door with the hand-painted welcome sign.

Memories of his arms being roughly wrenched behind his back and the police taking him away in handcuffs came stampeding back, and he wished he was anywhere but here.

Correction: He wished
they
were anywhere but here.

He couldn’t regret spending time with a woman like Sara Brenneman, even though their relationship couldn’t go any further than her front door.

“Are you a mountain-biker? Is that why you moved here?” He kept his gaze straight ahead as they passed the general store, unwilling to resurrect any more bad memories.

“I moved here because I fell in love.”

Jealousy hit him hard, a ridiculous reaction, especially because he should have known a woman like her was spoken for. “You have a boyfriend?”

“I meant I fell in love with the town,” she said, laughing, and he could breathe again. “At first sight, too. I stopped to visit Penelope on the way back to Washington, D.C., from another friend’s wedding. That’s all it took.”

He waited for a car to pass before they crossed a side street to the quiet of the next block, mostly consisting of businesses that were closed for the day. “Didn’t you like living in Washington?”

“It’s the fast track I didn’t like. I lived in this great neighborhood near Capitol Hill, but spent most of my time
at work. The more hours I billed, the more money the law firm made and the more chance I had of making partner.”

“Was that important to you?”

“I used to think so. I told you my dad was a navy JAG, right? Now he’s a partner at the firm where I worked. My mom’s a pediatrician. I’ve got a sister in law school and a brother in med school. Everybody’s a high achiever.”

“So what happened?”

“I woke up one night to a pounding on my door.” Her steps had slowed and he matched her more leisurely pace. “I saw a bloody, wild-eyed man through the peephole so I called 911 but didn’t open it.”

“Smart move.”

“Not really. Turned out he lived two doors down and he’d just been mugged. That’s when it hit me that I worked so many hours I couldn’t even recognize my own neighbor.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing.”

She shook her head. “For me, it was. I was so busy doing what was expected of me I didn’t think about what would make me happy. That’s having a social life and feeling like I’m part of a community.”

Once upon a time, Michael would have said he wanted to belong somewhere. But then Murray had booted him out of his great-aunt’s house and he’d learned how dangerous it was to want.

“Sounds like you’re in the right place.” He kept his voice determinedly noncommittal.

“I think so, but nobody else in my family does. They keep saying I’ll come back to my senses.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “Enough about me. How about you?
You keep saying you’re leaving tomorrow, but where will you go?”

“To decompress,” he said.

A muscle in her jaw twitched, hinting she wasn’t satisfied with his short answer. It couldn’t be helped. She wouldn’t understand that the destination didn’t matter as long as it was away from here.

“There it is!” she suddenly exclaimed, clapping her hands like an excited child. “My law office.”

She indicated one of the stone row houses that lined the block. It was sandwiched between an insurance office and a dentist, across the street from a small city park that was in shadows.

“I thought I was walking you home.”

“I live on the two upper floors. It’s the coolest thing. The place is built on a hillside so the office is at street level, but the back of my second floor opens onto a private deck that has a catwalk leading to the woods.”

He glanced upward and saw a light shining in a second-floor window.

“Isn’t it perfect? Here, I’ll show you.” She took a key from her little pink evening purse, opened the heavy wood door and flipped on a light.

The setup was typical for a small office. A reception area in front with a pair of offices and a small supply room in the rear. Wood floors and crown molding ran throughout the first floor.

“I need to get it painted and buy some lamps and carpets and artwork. Oh, and get the phone company over here because the phones aren’t working. And hire an office manager. I’ve almost got it covered. I’m going
shopping in Allentown tomorrow and I have a couple of job candidates coming in for interviews on Monday.”

Her words tripped over each other, and he tried to remember the last time he’d been that excited. He couldn’t. She grabbed his hand, leading him to an unusual oak receptionist’s desk shaped like a comma.

“Isn’t this great?” she asked. “The office furniture came with the place, but I was sure the previous owner would exclude this piece. It’s an antique, probably custom-made, too.”

“Beautiful,” he said, but he was referring to Sara instead of the desk. A light seemed to have switched on inside her as she showed him her office, transforming her from attractive to dazzling.

She turned to him, a sunny smile curving her lips. He tried to mask his attraction, but she must have seen it because the smile changed, its innocence fading. She looked down at their still-linked hands, then up at him. Her hand was silky and warm, the way he imagined the rest of her would feel. The air around them suddenly seemed charged.

“I don’t normally do this.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I never do this, but would you like to come upstairs?”

His body hardened, his mind leaping ahead to the two of them naked, entwined in her bed. He dropped her hand and stuffed both of his in his pockets. “This isn’t smart, Sara. We just met. You don’t know anything about me.”