Dare to Love (14 page)

She swung around, the sweat suit clutched against her breast. He was tucked in, but not safely. Her bright yellow comforter was pushed down to the end of the double bed. The matching sheet was barely covering his hips. His stomach was naked and darkly sensual, tempting her to forget why she couldn't want a man—any man—like she wanted Doug Avery.

Her gaze traveled slowly upward, until it met the heavy bandage taped to his chest just beneath his collarbone. And the sight of that stark white bandage against his dark chest hair made her remember the reason he was lying in her bed. The man had been battered by half of a school building. She had no business lusting after him. She looked at the scar on his shoulder, the one she'd noticed all those weeks ago in his hotel room. Had that been a result of heroism, too?

* * *

T
HE NIGHT WAS TOO LONG
, and yet in some ways not long enough. Andrea hated having to wake Doug every hour just so he could be reminded of how badly his head hurt. She hated to interrupt the sleep he so desperately needed. But she loved having him in her home, in her room, in her bed.
Just for this one night,
she told herself, though without much conviction.

Gloria called after the ten-o'clock news. She'd heard about Andrea's part in the rescue mission and took turns praising her daughter's courage and asking for reassurances that she was indeed uninjured. Andrea did her best to answer her mother's thousands of questions, watching the clock all the while. She finally had to resort to a white lie about needing to use the rest room so she could get off the phone in time to wake Doug again.

She spent the first half of the night in the armchair, like she'd promised herself she would, but by the early hours of the morning, she was just too exhausted to make herself move from Doug's side. With a weary shrug she put her alarm back on her nightstand and crawled in beside him.

* * *

S
HE WAS UP
by the time Doug awoke the next morning, but he knew she'd been there. The last few times she'd had to wake him she'd fallen back to sleep before he had, and he didn't think he'd ever forget the feel of her womanly thighs nudging against him, or her soft breath on the back of his neck. For the first time in his life, the thought of sharing his bed with a woman all night long enticed him.

He looked around her room, seeing in the eclectic decor both sides of the woman he was coming to know. Everything was in place, neat and controlled, but her passion was obvious, too. The room was done completely in yellows—bright, bold, vibrant yellows—from the curtains at the window to the cover on the big, overstuffed armchair. He wondered if there was any possibility of him ever finding out if that armchair was big enough for making love....

But enough was enough. It was time for him to go home. He wanted to make love to Andrea, but there was a lot more between them, and inside him, that was going to have to be settled first. Because he knew that, for the first time since he'd lost his virginity to Cindy Lou, he wasn't going to be able to settle for an hour or two of great sex. If he was going to make love with Andrea, he wanted more than just physical satisfaction. He just didn't know what that “more” was, or whether or not he could ever have it. And he didn't know what the cost would be to him if he couldn't.

* * *

A
NDREA BATTLED
with herself all day Thursday after she dropped Doug off in the sterile studio apartment he called home. There he was, all alone with only a generic tweed couch and a portable TV for company. The doctor had ordered another two days of rest. So who was going to take care of him? Who was going to feed him? Should she take him dinner? Did she dare? Shouldn't she walk away now while she knew she still could? Was she so weak that she couldn't take an injured man a plate of food?

She showed up at his door at four forty-five, carrying two bags of groceries with her including the makings of Gloria's manicotti.

Doug was watching TV when he heard the knock at his door. He jumped up, eager to have someone to talk to even if it was the paperboy, and then had to stop a minute to let the stars clear from before his eyes.

“I thought you might like some dinner,” Andrea said, as soon as she opened the door.

Doug smiled at her. He couldn't help it. She looked so damned cute standing there like she'd been caught looting the principal's office. She was still wearing the uniform she'd had on when she'd dropped him off that morning, he realized as he led her to his small kitchen.

“I'd planned on eating,” he told her.

“Then maybe you can show me where your pans are.”

That stopped him. “You're cooking?”

“Unless you want to eat raw pasta.”

He didn't know which was better, the novelty of having someone cooking for him or the aromas that were soon drifting around his one-room apartment. He turned off the television and sat at his old formica table while she worked, content just to watch her.

“Where'd you learn to do that?” he asked as she whipped up a batch of sausage meatballs.

Andrea grinned at him over her shoulder. “My mom. I learned how to be a wife before I learned how to read.”

Her words slammed into him. Had she been anyone else but Andrea, Doug would have read her comment as a hint, and she'd have been out of there so quickly her head would have been spinning. But with Andrea he knew better. With her, he almost
wished
it had been a hint.
The concussion must still be screwing up my head,
he thought wryly.

“You didn't have to do this. But thanks,” he said as she sat down across from him, passing him a plate of pasta. No one had ever eaten with him in his apartment before.

She looked up from the salad she'd been dressing, meeting his gaze, smiling that smile that lodged someplace deep inside of him. “I wanted to.”

Dropping his eyes from hers, he picked up his fork. “So how was school today?”

“Fine. The kids were full of questions. They'd heard about the tornado on the news.”

“You didn't tell them I passed out on one of my students, did you?”

“No. And you didn't pass out. You were knocked out.”

“Yeah, well. Same thing.” Doug applied himself to his pasta.

“We did your role-playing exercise,” she said a couple of minutes later.

“Yeah?” He was kind of surprised that she'd followed his lesson plan. After all, he was just a rookie—she was the pro. “How'd it go?”

“Did you know that drinking alcohol could make you pregnant?”

Doug choked on his ice water. “What?”

Andrea laughed. “Just think how I felt when I heard that one, sitting there with twenty-six intent faces gazing up at me.”

“Did you, uh, correct the assumption?” he asked.

“I started to.”

“You
started
to?” Doug was smiling now, too. He could just picture it, Andrea all prim and in control in front of a classroom full of blooming adolescents. He sure as hell was glad it hadn't been him.

“Well, it seems that if you drink, you're more apt to let a boy,
you
know, and you're also less likely to be thinking about what time of the month it might be, or whether or not there would be any consequences....”

Doug laughed outright. “So, would you like some wine?” he asked, sending her a suggestive smile.

“I'm not allowed to drink on school nights....”

Andrea stayed until almost nine o'clock. They had the dessert she'd brought, and then did the dishes together. Doug was almost falling asleep on his feet by the time she said good-night, but he felt better than he could ever remember feeling.

He'd been tempted to kiss her good-night, to see if he could convince her to stay. But he still wasn't feeling so hot, and he didn't want to start something he couldn't finish. At least, that's what he told himself as he locked his door behind her. It was easier to believe that than to wonder if he might have just been too chicken to risk rejection.

* * *

A
NDREA WAS TEMPTED
to use the tornado as an excuse to miss the mystery-weekend adventure with Mark, but it was precisely because she was so tempted that she didn't. She was afraid that if she wasn't safely tucked away with Mark in Cincinnati, she might be tempted to take dinner to Doug on Friday night, and that he'd be feeling good enough to...

She arranged to meet Mark at her mother's house. He'd be bringing the boys over anyway, so it seemed like a logical choice. It had nothing to do with the fact that she didn't want another man in her apartment so soon after Doug had been there.

“Did you pack a nice dress?” Gloria asked as soon as Andrea walked in the door Friday afternoon.

“The black one I wore to the Christmas party. Will that do?”

“Yeah. You looked good in it,” Gloria said, leading the way back to the kitchen. She was baking chocolate-chip cookies for her little houseguests-to-be.

“How's Scotty doing?” Andrea asked. She leaned over to snitch a fingerful of cookie dough.

“He got an
A
on his science project.”

“Yeah? What'd he make?”

“I'm not sure what it was, but the teacher was impressed. It had lights and wires and did things.”

Andrea laughed. “Not like the moldy bread I used for my project, huh?”

“Thank God,” Gloria said with a chuckle.

The backdoor rattled, and footsteps sounded from the laundry room. Andrea looked up, expecting to finally get a glimpse of the man she was going away with for the weekend.

But the body that filled the kitchen doorway was not that of a man.

“Oh. Sorry. I'll be out in the garage.”

Andrea told herself she wouldn't cry. She swallowed. She blinked. She took a deep breath. A tear fell anyway, trickling slowly down her cheek.

Gloria watched as her teenaged son turned abruptly and left, then she hurried around the counter to take her daughter in her arms.

“He doesn't mean to hurt you, Andi. He's just so ashamed.”

“He hates me, Ma. But it's okay. I don't blame him. Sometimes I hate me too.” She gave her mother a squeeze and then pulled away, reaching for a tissue from the box on the counter.

His sandy blond hair was longer, he'd gotten new glasses and he'd grown a couple of inches—he looked great. Until he'd seen Andrea, that was. Until the sullen look she'd become accustomed to over the past four years had tightened his features again.

Still, she was glad she'd been there. She hadn't seen her baby brother in almost a year. She was desperate enough to take what she could get.

M
ARK WAS GORGEOUS
. He was tall and tanned, with light brown hair that was thick and full. He had stunning blue eyes. He wasn't embarrassed about kissing his kids goodbye, yet he walked with enough of a swagger to proclaim his healthy male ego. He was charming and witty, he listened, he had interesting things to say. He was intelligent. He was successful.

He wasn't Doug.

Andrea knew five minutes after she'd gotten into Mark's Explorer that he was everything she could have hoped for. More than that, she liked him. But it still wasn't going to work. He didn't take her mind off Doug.

And she needed that more than ever now. Seeing Scotty had been as painful as it had been wonderful. It had been a powerful reminder to her of why she was alone, why she had to stay alone. She tended to lose perspective when she loved. And she'd caused enough pain, been hurt enough, for one lifetime.

* * *

“T
HE ONLY TWO ROOMS
they had left were adjoining, but I want it understood right from the beginning that I don't expect you to unlock the connecting door—not unless you want to, that is,” Mark said as they arrived at the hostel. They had an hour to unpack before all the weekend's participants had to meet in the lounge for the revealing of the crime.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Andrea said, taking her key from her handsome companion. She would, too. Maybe she wasn't giving Mark enough of a chance. Maybe if she allowed him to kiss her, to touch her, the memory of Doug's heat might be obliterated from her heart.

And maybe pigs can fly,
Andrea thought late that night. She'd held Mark's hand. She'd cuddled up to him a little bit in the elevator. She'd flirted with him. She'd even welcomed his good-night kiss. And she felt like trash. She felt like she was being unfaithful, like she was tarnishing something valuable. She'd never felt so alone in her life. She lay in bed, curled into a ball, and wondered what Doug had had for dinner.

* * *

A
NDREA WAS UP EARLY
Saturday morning, and rather than disturb Mark, who rarely had a chance to lie in bed in the morning, she dressed and went sleuthing. By midmorning she was pretty sure who'd “dun it,” but after sharing breakfast with the woman she'd been interrogating, she decided to keep her suspicions to herself.

Amy was a charming young woman, an interior decorator who'd lost her husband in a boating accident the year before. But she'd reached the point where she had to live again, and the mystery weekend was her first attempt to meet new people.

“How'd you like to meet a wonderful man?” Andrea asked Amy as the two women walked down to the lake behind the hostel after breakfast.

Amy laughed. “Who wouldn't?”

“No, really. I mean it. I can introduce you to him if you'd like.”

“You don't mean that gorgeous hunk I saw you get in the elevator with last night, do you?”

“He is hunk-of-the-month material, isn't he?” Andrea mused. What was wrong with her? She was throwing away a perfect date.

“I only saw him from behind, but what I saw was pretty spectacular. How come you're not—I mean, didn't you two come together?”

“He's my mother's next-door neighbor. He's a great guy, but really, we're just friends. You wanna meet him?” Andrea hoped her mother's telepathy was on the blink. Otherwise she could expect a lightning bolt from heaven to strike her at any moment.

“If you're sure you don't mind.” The petite brunette smiled, losing some of the shadows that were haunting her lovely eyes.

* * *

G
LORIA DROPPED
Scotty off at Lizzie's house with an impatient wave and a promise to return in time to take the two of them to play miniature golf that evening.

She pulled her car out into the street, turning in the direction of home, just in case he was watching, and then did an illegal U-turn in the next block. She knew her family was not going to approve of where she was going. But there were some things a mother just had to do. And one of them was to listen to her instincts. Gloria's were screaming loud and clear.

She pulled the newspaper article out of the pocket of her shapeless shift, looked at the picture again and returned it to its place for safekeeping. The photographer had captured a miracle. Andrea's face was filled with longing, with love, with worry, as she gazed at the man being pulled from the rubbish and placed on a stretcher. It was the same man she'd been looking at during the DARE culmination breakfast. His name was Doug Avery.

Gloria found his apartment with only one wrong turn, pulled into the visitors' parking area and picked up the homemade brownies from the seat beside her. She'd never met a man yet who didn't like her brownies.

He answered on her first knock. “Can I help you?”

He was wearing black sweats that had been cut off at midthigh and a black T-shirt. His feet were bare, his hair rumpled and his face looked like it hadn't seen a razor since the tornado. Gloria eyed the silver-studded, black leather wristband for a moment and then met the man's eyes. That's when she fell in love.

“I think so. May I come in?”

* * *

A
NDREA HAD BUTTERFLIES
as she entered the hostel dining room with Mark at her side. What if he and Amy hated each other on sight? Maybe she should have left well enough alone. Just then Amy spotted her—it was too late to change her mind.

“Mark, this is Amy. Amy, Mark,” she said, stopping beside Amy's table.

“Mark Bishop?”

“Amy Jordon?”

“You two know each other?”

“I can't believe it's you. You look great!”

“So do you!”

“How long have you two known each other?”

“What happened to Sharry? I thought you two'd be married long ago by now.”

“We were. We're divorced.”

“I can't believe you two know each other.”

“I heard about Danny. I'm sorry, Amy. Really sorry.”

“Me too. He was the greatest. But I gotta go on, you know?”

Andrea looked from Amy to Mark and back again. They were looking at each other like they'd each won the lottery. They'd forgotten she was even there.

She backed away from the table, excused herself to their waitress and headed for the coffee shop across the street. Matchmaking was a funny business. She was happy for her two friends, and lonelier than she could ever remember being.

* * *

“I
‘M WORRIED ABOUT
my daughter.”

Doug didn't know what to make of the large woman sitting on the other end of his couch, claiming she was Andrea's mother.

“From what I've seen, she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” he said.

The big woman harrumphed. “I know my daughter, young man. I know when to worry.”

Doug shook his head, wondering if he was going to wake up soon. Maybe he was having another concussion.

“So why are you telling me about it?” he asked.

“Because I think you care.”

“What ever gave you that idea?” he asked angrily. This woman hadn't even met him until today. How could she possibly know something about him that he didn't even know himself? What right did she have to barge into his house and accuse him of things?

“You telling me you don't?” She glared at him with eyes that were exact replicas of Andrea's.

Doug opened his mouth to tell her just how wrong she was, but he couldn't lie to those eyes.

“That's what I thought,” she said when he remained silent.

“Why do I get the feeling Andrea wouldn't approve of you being here?” he queried, trying to make sense of it himself. He wasn't sure why he didn't just ask the woman to leave and be done with it.

“Because you're smarter than you look. Now listen. My daughter's been through hell and back, except she can't quite seem to make it back. She used to argue with me all the time, quite well, I might add. Now all I ever get is ‘Yes, Ma,' ‘No, Ma'.”

Doug's head was spinning, and he was pretty sure it wasn't from the bump he'd received. “You're worried because your daughter won't argue with you?”

“I'm worried because she's not happy. That jerk she married walked out on her at a time when she really needed him. Now even her tears are without passion. She just lets them fall, doesn't sob like she used to. She doesn't feel things like she used to. There's no fire.”

Was he getting this right? The problem was that Andrea didn't cry properly?

“Uh, where do I fit into all this?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know.

“She's all shut away. I think you might be able to get her out.”

Doug wasn't sure the woman wasn't just plain crazy. “Why me?”

“Because Andrea's never mentioned you....”

* * *

A
NDREA SPOTTED
D
OUG
as she hurried across the parking lot after school on Tuesday. He was heading her way. She walked faster. He walked faster.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“I'm sorry, Doug, I can't,” she said, trying to get to her car before she gave in. She'd only been back in town two days and already she was losing focus.

“Why not? I owe you one. You gotta let a guy pay his debts.” He followed her to her cruiser, holding on to the door as she got inside and tried to shut it.

“You said that last night.”

“Yeah, and you said you had plans.”

“I did have plans.”

“But you don't tonight, do you?” His arms were draped over the top of the door and the roof of her car as he leaned in toward her.

Doug Avery in small doses she could resist. Having him filling the interior of her car was another matter.

“If I have dinner this once, will you consider the debt paid and quit bugging me?”

He smiled that wicked smile that went straight to her belly. “Am I bugging you?” he asked.

“Doug.” She drew out his name in warning.

“Okay. You have my word. I'll stop harassing you about who owes who what.”

Andrea knew that his concession was a far cry from what she'd asked. But he looked so vulnerable suddenly as he stood there waiting for her answer.

“Okay, I'll have dinner with you. Where do you want to meet?”

“I'll pick you up at seven,” he said, swinging her door shut and striding away before she could suggest an alternative.

For a man whose posture was lazy at best, he sure could move quickly when he wanted to. Andrea smiled, and knew she was in deep trouble.

* * *

D
OUG WAS ALMOST HOME
when he saw the grubby blond boy coming out of a 7-Eleven. Jeremy Schwartz. Slowing his car, he watched as the boy walked away alone, huddled in against himself, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his oversize pants. He'd bet there was contraband in those pockets. He'd bet his life on it.

And he'd bet it wasn't chewing gum or candy, either. It was probably peanuts. They were small, easy to conceal and full of protein. They didn't cause aches on an empty stomach.

Or it could have been cigarettes. They were necessary for other reasons.

Doug followed the boy at a discreet distance until Jeremy cut through a couple of yards and hopped a fence. He still wouldn't have lost him if he'd been willing to risk exposure. But he didn't want the boy to know he'd seen him. He didn't want to make him any more defensive than he already was. He wanted Jeremy to trust him.

* * *

D
OUG TOOK
A
NDREA
to One Nation for dinner. Set on the top floor of the tallest building in Columbus, the revolving restaurant afforded an incredible view. The atmosphere and the food came in a close second. Doug wasn't sure how many chances he was going to get with her, so he wasn't taking any chances. He'd even put on a tie with his white oxford shirt and Dockers.

“Tell me about your ex,” he said as he poured them each a glass of wine from the bottle of chardonnay he'd ordered.

She shrugged and looked out the window beside their table. “There's not much to tell. We wanted different things.”

A week ago Doug might have believed her.

“What things?”

“I wanted to be a cop. He didn't want it.” She was wearing a teal blue cotton top and miniskirt. The rich color was reflected in her eyes.

“So why'd you marry him?” That was one of the questions Gloria hadn't answered.

Andrea took a sip of her wine, studying the golden liquid as if life's answers floated there. “We were high-school sweethearts. I couldn't imagine not marrying him. We were married for almost a year before I knew I wanted to enter the academy.”

“Was he against it from the beginning, or just after he got a taste of the life?”

“From the beginning.” She smiled sadly. “I loved him enough to give him the world. I thought he loved me enough to come around once he saw how much police work meant to me.”

“When did you know it wasn't going to happen?”

Doug would never have asked if he didn't sense that her answer was a critical one. He'd done a lot of thinking after Gloria had left the other day, and he figured that if he was ever going to have a chance with Andrea, she was going to have to deal with whatever had happened in her past.

Being a cop himself, Doug was pretty certain that she must have had a case go bad, that she must have been questioning her ability, as any good cop does at such a time. And that her husband, instead of standing beside her, had deserted her.

Andrea didn't answer his question. She swirled the wine in her glass. She took a sip.

“What happened?” Doug asked softly. He slouched down in his seat, resting his forearms on the edge of the table.

He still wasn't sure he was what Andrea needed. He still wasn't sure she'd be able to forgive him his past. But for some reason it was important to him that she live again, that she be happy.