Chapter Four
Standing next to Rachel, breathing in her scent and feeling the warmth she radiated, was sheer hell. Jamie’s hands curled around the handles of his crutches, when all they really wanted to do was bury themselves in the thick, silky waves of her hair.
He was pushing the boundaries of their business arrangement, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He had her to himself for the next two weeks, and he was damned well going to use every second to his own advantage. If that made her uncomfortable, then too bad. He was uncomfortable, too, and the way he saw things, there was only one way to cure that.
He intended to take Rachel to bed.
As soon as possible.
But in order to do that, he couldn’t pussyfoot around the issue. She needed to know he wanted her. He sensed that she wasn’t the kind of woman who slept around, or fell easily into bed with anyone. Normally, he’d respect that and not assert himself, but time was working against him. He’d been given this one chance, and he wasn’t going to blow it.
Now she avoided eye contact and focused on the tablet that lay on the counter. But her breathing quickened and pink color seeped slowly into her face. She was aware of him.
Big time.
“Assuming you don’t stay up all night,” she continued, “what time are you normally up and dressed? I came over at nine o’clock, and you were in the shower. So is it safe to say you’re ready and dressed by nine-thirty?”
He didn’t miss the slight emphasis on the word dressed and he hid a smile. “Yeah, that’s probably about right.”
“Okay, so why don’t I come over at ten each morning? We can have breakfast together, and then decide what we want to do for the day.” She flicked a glance at him. “If that sounds okay to you.”
Jamie barely contained his shock. He’d expected her to give him as little time as possible, and he’d been racking his brain trying to think of things that would require her to spend more time with him.
“You plan to spend the entire day with me?”
When she looked at him, surprised, he could have bitten his tongue off.
“No! I mean, I just thought—” She pressed a hand to her eyes and laughed, and gave him an apologetic smile. “Of course not. That would be presumptuous. What I meant to say is we can decide over breakfast if you’ll require my services that day, or not. Does that sound acceptable?”
“Sure.” Jamie nodded. “That sounds great, but let’s make it nine-thirty. I don’t think either of us wants to wait until ten o’clock to eat.”
He watched as Rachel bent over the tablet and tapped in the information. “Okay, so that’s done. What about groceries? I’m sure your mom stocked everything before she left, but you’ll need some fresh produce and dairy products at some point. Where do you prefer to shop?”
“I don’t.”
Rachel looked at him, and raised her eyebrows. “You don’t shop?”
“I don’t have a preference. Wherever you want to go is fine by me.”
“Ralph’s it is, then,” she said. “I’ll take an inventory of your cupboards, and pick up whatever else you need on Tuesday.” She glanced at him. “What about doctor appointments?”
“I have an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon next week,” he confirmed. “It’s at the VA hospital in Kalispell, to finally get the cast taken off.”
“Okay, that’s good. Let me know the specifics so I can put it in my calendar.” She gave him a swift appraisal. “You look fit, aside from your leg. We should probably get you out of the house each day. Go to the park, or maybe take a drive somewhere. Have you done that yet?”
Jamie shrugged. “Once, but it was fairly uncomfortable. I can’t see myself fitting into your Porsche.”
“That’s not a problem,” she assured him. “I’ll rent a van or an SUV, and remove the middle seat. You can sit in the back with plenty of room for your leg.”
Jamie stared at her. “Isn’t that a little extravagant?”
She leaned against the counter and looked at him in puzzlement. “Why is that extravagant? Don’t you deserve to live as normal a life as possible during your recovery? Why should you stay cooped up here, when you could get out and do things? I mean, unless you’re in pain, then I’d understand.”
Jamie shook his head. “No, I’m not in pain.”
Not much, anyway. And not enough to make him turn down the offer she was extending. Even the cost of the rental vehicle was worth it. He’d been saving his money for the past few years in order to build a little place somewhere nearby. A couple hundred bucks for a rental wasn’t going to break him financially. He knew Rachel hadn’t given the added expense a second thought. She was probably accustomed to clients who were rolling in money and willing to pay top dollar for the smallest convenience. He might not be rich, but he’d pay whatever price she asked if it meant spending more time in her company.
“Good, then it’s settled.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll head up to Whitefish and pick up a vehicle this morning, so start thinking about where you might like to go. That reminds me—” She broke off and gave him a doubtful look. “Do you have a wheelchair?”
“I do.”
“Great, because if you think you’re just going to sit in the car while I chauffeur you around, think again. We are getting out and moving.” Before he could respond, she turned back to her tablet. “So that takes care of the main issues. We’ll figure the rest out as we go along.”
Jamie felt a little dazed. He’d been so certain Rachel would try to find reasons not to spend time with him, yet here she was, inserting herself neatly into his life as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He had to remind himself that for her, this was just a job. She’d likely do the same thing for any other poor bastard. The thought deflated his ego just a bit.
“Sounds good,” he responded, and hitched his crutches beneath his arms. “Is that it?”
If she noticed his surly tone, she gave no indication. She consulted her tablet and nodded in satisfaction. “I think so. I just need your cell phone number. I can’t help you if I can’t reach you.”
Jamie watched as she punched his number into her phone, and then gathered up her tablet. Up close, her skin was fine and creamy, and he could see a tiny pulse beating at the base of her slender throat. She wore a deep pink, sleeveless blouse with a pair of jeans, and her arms were slim and toned. The denim hugged the curve of her hips like a second skin. Jamie ached to touch her.
“So we’re done?”
“For now. I’ll go get a car for us. I should be back after lunch, so think about what you might like to do this afternoon.” She glanced outside. “It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Rachel turned back to him, her eyes wide. “Doing what?”
He gave her a patient look. “You don’t need to cater to me. I’m perfectly happy just hanging out here on my own for the next two weeks.” Seeing her expression, he raised a hand. “Don’t get me wrong; I’d rather spend time with you than by myself, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re under any obligation to do this. And don’t worry—I won’t rat you out to our parents. I’ll tell them you took good care of me. But you don’t have to sacrifice your free time for me.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
She looked indignant. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to. As long as we’re being honest, when my mother first suggested I help you out, I was against it.”
“So don’t do it.” He could have bitten his tongue off as soon as the words left his mouth. What if she called his bluff?
“In fact,” she continued, ignoring him, “right up until I came over this morning, I wasn’t sure how much time I wanted to spend with you. But…”
Her sentence hung in the air between them, until Jamie took the bait.
“But what?”
She gave a shrug of one slim shoulder. “After my parents left this morning, I sat in the kitchen for nearly four hours, wondering what I was going to do for the next two weeks. Just four hours, and I was nearly crawling out of my skin with boredom.”
“I’m sure you would have figured something out.”
“I won’t lie,” she said. “I came over here thinking I’d just leave you my number and that would be it. You wouldn’t want me interfering in your life, and I could at least tell my parents I offered to help you. Then we could each go our separate ways.”
“So what changed your mind?”
“You did.” She gave him a half smile. “If I was going stir crazy after just a few hours, how hard must it be for you—a guy accustomed to living life under the most extreme conditions—to be cooped up in a house, alone? There’s only so much sun-worshipping, lounging, and sleeping that one person can do.”
“I manage.” His voice sounded a little rougher than he intended, because what she said was true. He was slowly going out of his mind, and the better he felt physically, the worse it became.
“Besides,” she added, giving him a slow smile, “I like you.”
Jamie’s mood lightened. “Thanks.”
“I think the next two weeks could be a lot of fun, if we keep an open mind.”
Jamie looked sharply at her. Was there a hidden meaning in her words? He couldn’t tell. Her face was the picture of innocence. “I think you’re right,” he finally agreed.
“Then it’s settled. Do you want me to make some lunch for you before I leave?” she asked. “I can just put it in the fridge for whenever you’re hungry.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” he protested. “I can handle lunch. You’re already doing way more than I expected.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Absolutely. I’ll see you in a few hours. I’m just going to hang by the pool.”
He stood in the doorway and watched her as she walked across the street and then maneuvered the pretty little convertible Porsche out of the garage. He lifted a hand as she drove past, wishing she didn’t look so perfect in the luxury sports car.
As comfortable as he was, financially, he’d never be able to afford a car like that. He owned a motorcycle and a beat-up Land Rover that had seen better days. Both suited him just fine, but he couldn’t envision Rachel driving either one. Okay, he could definitely see her sitting behind him on the motorcycle, with her legs bracketing his own, and her arms wrapped around his waist. But that sweet little fantasy would have to wait until after his cast was removed, and he went through rehab, which could be months from now.
Jamie gave a snort of disgust, and closed the front door. Here he was, envisioning a future with a woman he barely knew; a woman who had been accustomed to a much more luxurious lifestyle than what he could offer. He had no reason to think she would be willing to settle for a guy like himself. He wasn’t being self-deprecating, because he wasn’t a bad catch, overall, but a woman like Rachel McCafferty—he refused to think of her as Rachel Narducci—was way beyond his pay grade.
*
He was suffocating. Darkness pressed in on all sides, and his body was wedged so tightly beneath the fallen concrete that he couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
He was going to die here, buried alive beneath the tons of rubble. Dust filled his nose and mouth. Someone called his name.
“Colter, help me…help me.”
It was his buddy, Mike Santos, and they were trapped side by side. Jamie stretched his fingers, and touched Santos’s head. Beneath his fingertips, his friend’s skull crumbled, and Jamie’s fingers sank into something warm and sticky.
In the darkness, someone moaned in pain.
He tried to move, and the sound came again.
Jamie realized it was him.
Something brushed his face and Jamie came awake with a start, throwing his arms up in a protective gesture, before opening his eyes. He blinked against the bright glare of sunlight, and a shadow fell across his face.
Rachel.
“Sorry,” he muttered, and shoved himself higher on the chaise longue. “I must have fallen asleep.”
She was bent over him and he realized the ends of her hair had brushed across his face, waking him up. Now she stretched up and adjusted the tilt of the pool umbrella until he was fully in the shade.
“You’re starting to burn,” she observed, standing over him.
Even under the shade of the umbrella, Jamie had to shield his eyes to look at her. The nightmare began to fade beneath the glare of the sun. “How long have you been here?”
“I just got back. Have you been asleep this whole time?”
“I guess so.” He shook off the lingering grogginess and scrubbed a hand over his face. “How long have you been gone?”
“About three hours.”
He had been asleep for the entire time she’d been gone, partly due to the meds he’d taken after she’d left. Things were getting better, though. He no longer needed to take the pills every few hours, as he had when he’d first been released from the hospital. He was down to taking just one or two doses each day, mostly for pain and partly to help him escape the memories of that shitty day in Syria, when a Russian bomber had decimated their Marine compound. But the meds were no longer keeping his nightmares at bay. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts aside, he reached for his crutches, but Rachel was there first.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Nope, I got it.” Acutely aware of her watching him, he lifted his injured leg off the chair until he was sitting sideways, and then used his good leg and the crutches to leverage himself to a standing position. “Let’s go see that rental car.”
He followed her across the yard and through the gate that led to the front of the house. There, in his parents’ driveway, sat a shiny white minivan.
“I thought it would be easier for you to get in and out of this, than an SUV,” Rachel said, and opened the sliding door. “I had the salesman stow the middle row of seats, so there’s plenty of space to move around.”
Jamie stuck his head inside the van. The interior was expensive leather, with a telltale new-car smell. The dash contained all the bells and whistles of a brand-new, top-end model, and the vehicle was spotless, inside and out.
“How much did you say this is costing?” he asked cautiously.
“I didn’t. It’s on loan for free, for as long as we need it.”
Jamie looked sharply at her. She gave him a sunny smile.
“I’m afraid to ask,” he finally said.
“I decided to sell the Porsche. I brought it to a dealer in Whitefish, and they think they can sell it.” She looked almost embarrassed. “The manager fell in love with the car, so we made a deal. I get use of the van for as long as I need it, and he gets personal use of the Porsche. When I return the van, he’ll sell the Porsche for me. He thinks he can get top dollar.”
Jamie wanted to weep in protest. “You’re selling that beauty? Why can’t you just swap the cars back when we no longer need the van?”
Something flashed across Rachel’s face, an expression that might have been anger, but was gone too quick for him to tell.
“I don’t want it,” she said firmly. “It’s an impractical reminder of a life I’ve left behind, and Montana is no place for a Porsche.”
“Well, that manager is getting the better end of the deal,” he muttered. “I’d have given anything to drive that car just once.”
Rachel looked unsympathetic. “What is it with you boys and your fast cars? That thing is a gas hog, and it’s also dangerous. This is much more practical.” She crossed her arms. “You look upset. Does this mean you no longer want to go for an outing?”
Jamie scowled. “Not when you sound like my mother. And we’re not going for an outing. That has about as much appeal as a geriatric field trip.”
Rachel laughed, and it completely transformed her. Jamie found himself transfixed by the sound of her laughter, and the way her face lit up. This was how he remembered her.
“I’m so sorry,” she finally said, still smiling. “You’re right; that sounded terrible. What should we call it instead?”
“Something that doesn’t remotely hint at a nurse-patient or parent-child relationship,” he grumbled. “What do friends call it when they go out together?”
“Are we friends?” Rachel asked, tipping her head to one side as she considered him. “I mean, I’ve known you for forever, but I wouldn’t have classified you as a friend, necessarily. You were always my kid brother’s sidekick. Just a baby, really.”
“Never mind,” Jamie said darkly. “This is just getting worse by the minute. You should stop talking now.”
“We could call it a date,” she offered. Seeing his surprised expression, she shrugged. “Why not? Friends go on dates, don’t they?”
Not the kind of friends he had, but he wasn’t about to argue with her.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Friends do go on dates.”
Thirty minutes later, with his wheelchair stowed in the rear cargo space, and his leg resting comfortably on a leather ottoman Rachel had confiscated from the living room, they were on their way.
Rachel sat in the driver’s seat, and their eyes met in the rearview mirror. “Sure you’re comfortable back there?”
Surprisingly, Jamie was very comfortable. The van was luxuriously appointed, and he’d had no difficulty getting into the rear seat. His only complaint was that there was too much space between them; he would have liked to be sitting in the passenger seat. He gave Rachel a thumbs-up, and sat back to enjoy the ride.
“Are you hungry?” she called.
Jamie shrugged. “Getting there. What’d you have in mind?”
She smiled at him in the mirror, and then turned in the direction of town. Within ten minutes they were pulling into the parking lot by the town pier. As Jamie eased himself into the wheelchair and settled his leg onto the extended support, he breathed in the crisp, mountain air. He hadn’t seen the lake since before he’d left for Syria; hadn’t realized just how much he missed being near the water.
“Man, that air smells good,” he said, as she retrieved her pocketbook and locked the van.
“What shall we do first?” she asked. “We could take a stroll to the end of the pier, or go get something to eat. Red’s Diner is always a good choice.”
A small burger shack stood near the entrance to the pier, and the smell of fried food wafted on the air. Jamie realized he was famished. He hadn’t eaten breakfast after Rachel had left that morning, and now his stomach was talking to him.
“Let’s go grab some food at that little burger joint, and take it out to the pier,” he suggested.
“That sounds perfect,” Rachel agreed, and made to grab hold of the handles on the back of the wheelchair.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Jamie demanded, frowning at her. “I don’t need you to push me. In fact, I could use the exercise.”
He demonstrated his ability by grabbing the wheels and expertly maneuvering the chair in a circle, before rocking it back into a wheelie.
Rachel raised her hands in surrender, laughing. “Okay, I get it. Sorry to violate your man-card!”
She walked beside him as they made their way across the parking lot to the pier, and he reveled in the cool breeze on his face. Two young women, dressed in shorts and soft cotton tops, who clearly weren’t wearing bras, strolled past them and smiled at Jamie, before falling against each other, laughing.
He grinned broadly after they had passed. “I love when the weather turns warm.”
Beside him, Rachel gave an indelicate snort. “Aren’t they a little young?”
He had no interest in the girls, but he couldn’t resist baiting Rachel, just a little. “I don’t know,” he mused. “They looked to be in their early twenties. I’m twenty-six, so I think we’re in the same league. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Excuse me!” The two young women had returned, and now they were looking both sheepish and hopeful. The first girl smiled at Jamie. “We couldn’t help but notice nobody has signed your cast. Would you mind if we did?”
Jamie laughed in surprise. The girls were right; the plaster was still smooth and unblemished. He spun the chair toward them.
“Be my guest,” he offered.
The girls fished around in their purses until one triumphantly produced a couple of gel pens, in pink and purple. Jamie was acutely conscious of Rachel, standing just to one side, watching. He didn’t look at her as the girls knelt on the wooden walkway on either side of his leg, and proceeded to draw on the cast. Their hair fell forward as they worked, obscuring their efforts.
“Thank you for letting us do this,” the first girl enthused.
“Are you in the service?” The second girl glanced up at him, and her eyes swept over him, missing nothing.
Jamie nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
“Oh! Did this happen in combat?”
“It did,” he confirmed.
They both made little cooing sounds of sympathy, and renewed their artistic endeavors.
“There!” The first girl rose to her feet and surveyed her handiwork. “I hope you like it.”
Jamie nearly groaned aloud when he saw the swirly hearts and flowers she had drawn, along with the caption, Get Well Soon! Beneath the hearts, her name was a looping scrawl.
“Okay, all done,” declared the second girl. Standing up, she gave Jamie a shy smile. “I wrote my number, right there. If you ever want to get out, maybe have a drink, just give me a call.”
She had drawn two purple palm trees bowing toward each other, and between them, a setting sun complete with pointy rays of sunshine. In the center of the sun she’d written her name and number.
“Ah, thank you—” Jamie peered down at his leg “—Chelsea.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for your service.” Chelsea’s smile broadened and she reached out to shake Jamie’s hand. “Well, we should get going. Give us a call sometime!”
“Bye,” said the first girl.
“Thanks again, ladies.”
He waited until they were out of earshot before he began pushing his chair again. “They obviously don’t think I’m too old for them,” he observed, suppressing a grin. “And they can’t be that young if they’re old enough to go out for drinks.”
Rachel was silent, and when he risked a glance at her, he almost regretted teasing her. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but he recognized the disapproving set of her jaw, and her rigid posture. He sighed inwardly. The old Rachel—the one he’d been crazy about as a teen—wouldn’t have given a shit about other pretty girls, because she’d been that secure in herself. She’d had so much confidence, and such a zest for life that she hadn’t concerned herself with petty trivialities like jealousy or self-doubt.
While she seemed efficient and confident in her abilities as a personal concierge, Jamie sensed a change in her. She seemed more tightly wound than he remembered, and there was less laughter in her than before. Jamie wanted to reassure her the girls couldn’t hold a candle to her, but another part of him wanted her to recognize he was a man now, and some women actually found him attractive. In fact, he was pretty sure Rachel found him attractive, too.
Now he just had to get her to admit it.