NINETEEN

“Delivery time.”

Holding the brown-paper package under one arm, Mona waggled her way down the center aisle from the front of the store to the back. Bleary-eyed, Harley watched her assistant’s hip-swaying progress. Mona’s thematic dress of the day had gone too far.

With every tiny step she took, she clanged and rattled like Marley’s ghost. Though bondage and antiques made for a strangely eclectic mix, Harley had to admit that Mona pulled off the combination with a Madonnaesque flair. Trimmed with ancient coins and links of chain, her bullet-studded bustier and black patent mini sucked up to her curves like white on rice.

Rice. Harley shuddered at the thought. For three days she’d been suffering the stomach virus from hell and rice was the only food she’d managed to keep down.

Life held no justice. Here she’d finished Dr. Fisher’s account and couldn’t even wallow in her success. Only in misery.

“Who’s this one from?” she mumbled, cheek flat against the cool wooden surface of her desk. Mona read the name from the label and Harley poofed out a sigh.

“One would think you might show more enthusiasm at receiving the final piece to Dr. F.’s contract,” Mona admonished.

“You want to see enthusiasm? I’ll show you enthusiasm.” One finger crooked in a come-hither curl, Harley squinted up at Mona.

The box balanced in the V of her elbows, Mona formed a crucifix using both index fingers. “You can keep your little germies all to yourself, thank you very much. I have a wedding to plan and I don’t intend to let anything stand in the way.”

Harley had returned from Camelot a month ago to find that Gibson had indeed popped the question. And since Gibson didn’t do jewelry, Mona had decided to forgo the traditional engagement ring and wedding set. She’d had her nose pierced with a diamond stud instead.

“I don’t know. I think your complexion could use more color. I’ll be glad to share my yellow.”

“No thank you. The wedding will be black-and-white. Not bumblebee.”

“Did I mention how happy I am for you?” Harley managed a thin-in-momentum-but-abundant-in-sincerity smile. Every woman deserved the chance at such incredible joy.

“I’m happy for me, too.” A look of supreme contentment softened Mona’s features.

Harley closed her eyes, ready to wallow in what-might-have-beens and Gardner—until Mona moved. She clanked and clattered her way to Harley’s desk.

“Now, I’ll just set this box behind your desk. When Dr. F. stops by, I’ll point him in your direction.”

“Give it here “Harley managed to lift her head. And to keep it on her shoulders. “You know Dr. Fischer. If I don’t bestow my seal of approval in advance, he’ll find the tiniest scratch and call it damage instead of age.”

Mona handed over the package and hovered nearby while Harley rummaged in a desk drawer for a box cutter. “Getting a little too close to my germies, wouldn’t you say?”

Propping her hip on the edge of Harley’s desk, Mona shook her head “I was kidding about the germs. I’m naturally immune.”

“All your shots up-to-date, huh?”

“Very funny.” Mona scowled.

Harley groaned, the box cutter slipping from her hands.

“Whatever’s wrong with you is affecting your motor control.” Mona reached out. “Quit moaning and give me the box.”

“I need a vacation.” Harley sank into her chair.

With a couple of swift strokes, Mona finished Harley’s botched job. “You just had a vacation.”

Harley shook her head, then regretted doing so when Mona’s pointed breasts became four, then six. “No. I need a real vacation. Sand, sun, and no Dr. Fischer”

“What? No wild-West show? No dude ranch? No dudes?” Mona added the last with a wiggle of both brows. The diamond in her nose reflected the overhead light.

Harley had never thought of the Barnes men as dudes. Dude gave her the impression of big-city boys portraying cowboy-for-a-day. Tyler and Jud may have joked while they worked but she’d never seen them play. And the only playing Gardner had done involved feathers and cherry tomatoes and…

“You’re flushed, Harley. Do you have a fever?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, feeling feverish and missing Gardner like she couldn’t believe These past four weeks of phone calls had lasted forever.

The day she’d left Camelot she should’ve told Gardner she’d arrange to be distracted anytime, anywhere. That all he had to do was call.

Oh, he’d called, all right. He’d talked his sexy talk, turned her ache into an obsession, and more than managed each and every time to distract her from the issue at hand.

Love.

Mona laid the back of her hand over Harley’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”

“I told you I’m fine.” To prove it, Harley got to her feet. Slowly, but she managed. “Here, hold the box still while I trash the packing.”

“What is it?” Mona asked.

Harley peeled away the layer of bubble wrap. “A doctor’s bag, circa 1920.”

“Dr. F. will love this,” Mona remarked as Harley turned the bag from side to side.

Not as much as he would have loved the one in Gardner’s attic, Harley thought.

The one Gardner kept as a manacle, shackling him to his past. He’d never spoken of the future, their future, except in regard to continuing the Barnes family name.

How romantic, Harley silently mused. Come live with me and be my… brood mare.

“Harley, you really don’t look so good.”

Harley pushed off her depressing thoughts. “I’m just tired. Between Dr. Fischer and Mrs. Mitchmore, this last month has been a killer.”

“Then go upstairs and rest. The bag looks perfect. And I can handle Dr. Fischer.”

Mona’s offer was heaven to Harley’s ears. As was the thought of bed and quilt and pillows and sheets. She wanted nothing more than to curl into a tiny ball and sleep the rest of the day away.

She glanced down at her watch. It was only four o’clock. Still… “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Would I offer if I did?”

“No.” Harley patted Mona’s fishnet-clad knee. “You’re one of the only truly honest people I know.”

Leaning forward, Mona nodded, her eyes narrowing to slits of intensity. Or was it eyeliner? “That’s because I’ve learned to be totally honest with myself first.”

Hmm. Another trait certain people could stand to learn “Then if we’re being honest here, Mona, can we talk about your clothes?”

Standing, Mona pressed her palms on the outside curve of both breasts. “How Wonder Woman pulls this off I’ll never know. I feel like the prow of a Viking ship.”

At that, Harley left, leaving Mona instructions on how to handle Dr. Fischer. Feeling only moderately guilty, she trudged up her stairs, dragging her weary body behind her. A hundred thousand pounds couldn’t weigh any more than her feet.

That was probably it. The aftereffects of chicken-fried steak and meat loaf.

She’d just stripped down to her panties, pulled on a wash-worn University of Texas T-shirt, and curled up beneath three inches of antique quilt into that oh-so-comforting, self-hugging ball when her phone rang.

She knew it was Gardner. Without moving a muscle, without taking a breath, without another thought, she knew it was Gardner.

His pursuit had become intense in nature, weakening her driving need to have him declare his love. A weakness she was finding hard to counter with her convenient list of rationalizations. A weakness she resented. She was so damned close to giving in.

Before the answering machine picked up, she did.

“’Lo?” she mumbled.

“You don’t sound a lot better than you did last night.”

Ignoring the roller-coaster rumble through her stomach, Harley pressed her fingers to the base of her throat. “This too shall pass.”

“Well, if it doesn’t I want you to go to the doctor.”

Since she felt like warm death, anyway, his comment just settled in wrong. “I’ve been nursing myself through colds and worse for thirty years. I think I’m the best judge of whether or not I need a doctor”

“Only if you’re thinking clearly.”

Harley bristled. “Are you saying I’m not?”

Gardner took a very long minute to reply. Not a good sign so early in this conversation.

“I didn’t call to argue,” he finally responded.

“I know. I’m sorry.” And she truly was. Eyes closed, she slowly counted to ten. “You caught me half-asleep. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight since we talked yesterday.”

“I talked. You mumbled and moaned, which is one of the reasons I called back. To see if you’re feeling any better. Obviously, you’re not.”

“These things usually last two or three days. I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“If not, will you consider seeing the doctor?”

“I’ll consider it”

“But you won’t promise.”

Harley rolled onto her back and drew her knees to her chest, focusing on the repetitive circle the ceiling fan sketched overhead. “It’s just a bug. Nothing serious.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Gardner verbally conceded the battle, though his tone wasn’t acquiescent at all.

Harley didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or triumphant. Who was she speaking to? Camelot’s boss or her lover? “Hmm. All this concern. A girl might get the feeling that you cared.”

“I do care.”

She knew that. Just like she knew she was feeling like crud and taking it out on him. “Let’s chalk this up to a rotten day and start over. Did you call for a reason other than to hear my lovely voice?”

“Well, if that’s the reason I called, I’d sure as hell be disappointed, wouldn’t I?” Irritation seeped into his tone.

Harley rubbed her temples with forefinger and thumb. First her stomach. Now her head. She couldn’t handle a blow to her heart. “Gardner, why are we doing this?”

“I’d lay odds that frustration is at the top of the list. The phone calls just don’t cut it anymore. And before you snap my head off again, I’m talking about more than sex. I miss you.”

Harley tucked the quilt to her chin, the phone to her ear, and curled into herself for comfort. She wanted him—no, the way she felt right now, she needed him to say more.

She needed him to say that he wished he were here to take care of her, to hold her close until the ache went away. But the missing her was a good start. And a good sign. She released a heart-deep sigh. “I miss you, too.”

“It was the strangest feeling watching you drive away,” he went on as if he hadn’t heard. “I kept thinking that you shouldn’t be leaving, that you belong here, that you had as much reason, as much right, to be on Camelot as Jud or Tyler or me. It was hard work convincing myself that we hadn’t known each other long enough for me to be feeling that way.”

“And did you?” she asked, the bud of hope blooming.

“What?”

“Convince yourself?” she asked again, the bloom unfurling.

It took a very long moment for him to answer. “No.”

Harley released a pent-up breath, only to find it difficult to draw another. How could a single, two-letter word say so much?

Gardner inhaled slowly and Harley tensed, waiting and waiting and waiting to hear.

“I think I’ve known you forever,” he finally managed, his voice low, controlled, yet passionate in intent. “It seems like you’ve been a part of my life since before we met. How do you explain something like that?”

By calling it love, she wanted to scream but didn’t. Not when he’d voiced a vulnerability he’d no doubt deny.

“If you were here now, I could take care of you,” Gardner said, then offered a short, shaky laugh. “We could skip the bacon and eggs and go straight for a healthy dose of oatmeal.”

“And a couple of Jud’s biscuits?” Harley added, determined to make the most of this connection before he resurrected his wall of male stubbornness.

“Biscuits, pancakes, French toast, muffins, you name it. Whatever carbohydrate you need to get you back on your feet.”

“Does that include some TLC?” she asked wistfully.

“As much as you can handle, honey,” he said, his tone shot through with supreme satisfaction. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed. Back rubs. Long, hot bubble baths. And a hug and kiss for good measure.”

“You make a tempting offer, Gardner Barnes.”

“Exactly my intent. I don’t like to think about you being alone when you’re sick.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“The rest of the time I prefer you that way. Unless I’m the one keeping you company.”

“That’s some kind of possessive streak you’ve got there,” Harley teased, feeling a bit smothered but thinking that she liked it.

“Damn right I’m possessive. Of everything that’s mine. I take care of my own.”

Which meant he’d take care of her, of that she had no doubt. But how close did that come to love? Didn’t his offer encompass everything love was? Everything but the words? Could she live with that?

Pushing aside her fevered musings, Harley responded to Gardner’s claim. “If all that bathtub-and-back-rub talk is your way of taking care, then I’d say this discussion deserves further consideration.”

“How does next week sound?”

“Too far away. Why not tomorrow night when I’m feeling better?”

“Because next week we can do it in person.” When Harley caught a breath, Gardner laughed. “I’ll be in Houston for a meeting Friday. I want to spend the rest of the weekend with you.”

“Another date?”

“No. This one’s a definite seduction,” he growled. “I want to see where you work. I want to see where you live. But don’t plan on showing me the city. The only tour I want is the shortest route from your place back to my hotel.”

“No. I want you to stay here. With me. I want you to see what you’re getting yourself into. I want you to see why my lifestyle is not compatible with raising a family. I want you to make your decision then, not judge me on what’s gone on before.

“What I’m getting myself into, huh? Does that mean you’re thinking long-range?”

“Let’s just say the possibilities at this point are endless.” And I have not yet begun to fight.