A Hero of Her Own. Carla Cassidy
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Название: A Hero of Her Own
Автор: Carla Cassidy
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Mills & Boon Intrigue
isbn: 9781472060433
isbn:
“Was it a tough change? Moving here from California?” He took a drink of the coffee.
“Not really. I was ready for a change and, of course, Clay has been very supportive.”
“He thinks a lot of you,” Quinn said.
“He thinks a lot of you, too.”
“He’s been a good friend and a great support over the years.” Quinn took another sip of his coffee.
“You know, I have the same problem you do with insomnia,” she said. She wrapped her slender fingers around her coffee cup and looked more vulnerable than she had moments before. “I start dreading the coming of night just after dinner.”
He wasn’t surprised by her confession. “Have you seen a doctor? Maybe you could get a prescription for some sleeping medication.”
She waved one of her hands. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to medicate myself to sleep. What about you? Have you seen a doctor, Doctor?” she asked lightly.
“No, I’m like you. Eventually after a couple nights of restlessness I manage to get in enough sleep to keep going.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “From what Clay has told me, that’s not the only thing we have in common.”
“What else do we have in common?” One of her eyebrows danced up quizzically.
“We’ve both lost people we cared deeply about. Clay told me about your fiancé. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Her eyes darkened as her complexion paled. “Thank you. It was a tragedy, but it’s in the past.”
It was obvious by the tightening of her lips, the paleness of her skin, that even though it was in her past, she still felt deeply the grief of the loss. She cleared her throat. “What about you? Who did you lose?”
“My wife, Sarah.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d been married.” Some of the color returned to her cheeks.
“We weren’t married long before she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Six months later she was gone.”
To his surprise Jewel reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Oh, Quinn. I’m so sorry.”
Her touch sizzled through him and he turned his hand over so that he now grasped her hand. “The only reason I told you this is because I want you to know that I understand grief, that if you need somebody to talk to, I have a good ear and strong shoulders.”
She pulled her hand from his as if suddenly uncomfortable by the physical connection. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m doing okay. Tell me about Sarah. What was she like?”
“Quiet and sweet. We met while I was in school. I was getting my degree in veterinary medicine and she wanted to be a nurse. It began as friendship and grew into love. She loved animals almost as much as I did and we talked about having a dozen kids and twice as many dogs and cats. What about your fiancé, Andy…wasn’t that his name?”
“Andrew, never Andy,” she replied, her eyes going soft. “He owned an accounting firm. He loved numbers and puzzles and he’d asked me to be his wife on the night that he died.”
“Clay told me it was a car accident.”
She nodded and once again wrapped her fingers around her cup, as if seeking warmth from the coffee it still contained. “We were driving home from the restaurant where we’d eaten dinner. It was misting and the road was dark. A Hummer seemed to come out of nowhere and steered right into the driver side of our car. I was knocked unconscious.” One of her hands moved to splay on her stomach. “The driver of the Hummer was never found.”
Quinn wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and hold her until her haunted, vulnerable look went away. “Even though you can’t ever prepare yourself for the death of somebody you love, I had six months to prepare myself for saying goodbye to Sarah, but you had no time to prepare yourself for saying goodbye to Andrew.”
She shrugged. “It happened. It’s over and life moves on.” She glanced at the clock on the stove.
“It’s getting late,” he said, taking it as a hint. “I should get out of here.” She didn’t argue and he stood and carried his cup to the sink. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said as they walked to the front door.
“Thanks for the dog,” she replied. “It was a very thoughtful thing for you to do.” She opened the front door and leaned against it.
He knew she was waiting for him to walk out, but he was reluctant to leave. “Jewel, I’m sorry if our conversation brought back bad memories.” He’d finally gotten an opportunity to talk to her one-on-one and the topic of conversation he’d chosen was their painful pasts.
To his horror her eyes misted with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said as the tears spilled onto her cheeks.
He stepped toward her then, unable to stand by while she cried, feeling guilty because he was responsible for her tears. He should have talked about the weather, or about town politics, about anything but loss.
He opened his arms to her and to his surprise she walked into them and laid her head against his chest. He embraced her, the scent of her soft, floral perfume eddying in the air.
The last thing he’d expected when he’d arrived here tonight was to have her in his arms, but when she raised her face to look up at him, he knew he wanted to take it one step further. He desperately wanted to kiss her.
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