Текст книги "Tempt Me If You Can"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Chapter Six
“W omen like flowers. How about you call down to Greenville and have a big bouquet sent up?”
“It would cost a small fortune to have flowers delivered way out here.”
“You’ve got a fortune.” Michael gave Ben a calculating look. “Which is good. The way I figure it, you owe Nem several hundred thousand dollars.”
Ben stopped walking down yet another damn tote road and stared at his son. “What makes you think I owe her a dime? And where in hell did you come up with that figure?”
The boy rested his shotgun on his shoulder and grinned. “Child support for the last fifteen years.”
“What!”
“I haven’t been cheap to raise, you know. Nem tried to see that I didn’t do without. My computer cost as much as a new boat and motor. And I broke my leg when I was eight. And I’ve been outgrowing my clothes faster than she can buy them. Then there were the floats on the plane.”
Ben started walking again, forgetting he was supposed to be hunting partridge, and darted a look at the boy walking beside him.
Michael hadn’t even blinked at the idea of missing school today. Ben wasn’t sure what Miss Flaming-Mad Emma would have to say on the matter, but they’d gotten back to Medicine Creek just before sunrise, and the woman had showered, changed clothes, and taken out her moose hunters. It was probably as much a perverse notion as a selfish one that had made Ben ask Mike to spend the day with him. After all, he wasthe boy’s father. He should be able to let the kid skip school.
“How did you damage the floats?”
Michael suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I … well, I sort of hit Crazy Larry’s dock at full power. But that didn’t damage them as much as when I bounced off it and hit the rocky shoreline.” He grinned at Ben. “Nemmy was mad enough to drown me.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“She wasn’t in the plane with you?”
“No. I was supposed to be practicing high-speed taxiing.”
“What happened?”
“Crazy Larry’s niece was visiting.”
That certainly explained things. Ben slapped Mike on the shoulder, then left his hand there.
And it felt damn good.
Ben chuckled. “Hell, Mike. Show me any disaster, and I’ll show you a woman standing nearby, watching.”
“Yeah. Well. Nem wasn’t quite as understanding. I chopped enough firewood to keep Medicine Creek Camps heated into the next century.”
Two partridge suddenly flew up from the side of the road, startling them into nearly dropping their guns. Neither male took aim at the departing birds, instead stopping to face each other.
“Nem’s going to be mad you let me skip school.”
“She can’t possibly get any madder than she already is.”
“Did you … have you really come here to claim me as your son?”
“Damn right. Are you ready for a father? For meto be your father?”
Gray eyes, so innocent yet so old, shined back at him. “I believe I am, Mr. Sinclair. I love my aunt with all my heart, but it’s definitely time I had a father.” The corners of his mouth suddenly turned up. “I probably know more about you than you know about yourself.”
“How?”
“Nem kept a scrapbook. She gave it to me on my tenth birthday.”
“Emma kept a scrapbook?”
“She started it before we ever got internet out here. I suppose she thought I should be able to decide if I eventually wanted to contact you or not. After all, you could have been a jerk.”
“And just having this scrapbook, and whatever you could find on the internet, made you want to meet me?”
“That, and other things. Nem always answered any questions I had about you while I was growing up. When I was eight, she gave me a picture of you she’d found in a business magazine. But it was seeing everything pieced together that made me want to meet you: what kind of businessmen you, your brothers, and your grandfather are; what charities you support; even what sort of women you date.” He gave Ben a sidelong glance and a crooked grin. “I noticed you don’t date any one woman for very long.”
Ben switched his gun to his other shoulder and started walking again. He couldn’t believe this. His son knew all about him, and he hadn’t even known the boy existed.
“I’m sorry you didn’t know about me,” Michael said softly, as if reading his mind. “And I’m sorry Abram Sinclair died before I could meet him. We … I probably should have contacted you sooner.”
“Bram would have ransomed his kingdom to have met you.”
“I know how he rose from poverty to build a multimillion-dollar shipping business,” Mike said with awe. “And that you’re Tidewater International’s new CEO.”
Ben nodded. “My younger brother, Jesse, works with me. I can’t wait for you to meet him. And our older brother, Sam. They’re both very eager to meet you. Um … we should find something for to call me. ‘Mr. Sinclair’ is too formal, don’t you think?”
“What would you like me to call you?”
Ben felt the back of his neck heat up. Dad. Call me dad.“What would you be comfortable with?”
The boy obviously didn’t like his question answered with another question. Mike’s neck colored all the way up to his cheeks. “Well, how does ‘Dad’ feel to you?”
“I’d like that.”
“Okay then, Dad—if we don’t turn around and start back, Nem’s going to come home to a dark kitchen and no supper on the table.” He gave Ben an inquiring look. “You don’t happen to know how to cook, do you?”
“I’ve been known to burn a barbecue. You got a grill at Medicine Creek?”
“Yup. Now, about those flowers. I hear they can take the anger right out of a woman. And since you and Nem are both being tight-lipped about what caused this particular feud, maybe you should give them a try.”
“Maybe sheshould be sending meflowers.”
Mike cuffed Ben’s arm. “Jeez, Dad. Even I know it’s a man’s place to cave in first.” He got that calculating look again. “No one—not even Galen Simms—ever sent Nemmy flowers.”
Ben was beginning to suspect he could take lessons from this boy. “Is that so?”
“And would you like to reallymake my aunt melt?”
Now there was a thought. He was almost afraid to ask his next question. “How would I do that?”
“Elmer Fudge cookies.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nem loves them. Have a whole case of them delivered with the flowers, and your any wish will be her command.”
Emma Sands at his command. Lord, he was loving this boy! “Can I get the cookies in Greenville?”
Michael wrapped his arm around Ben’s shoulders and steered him back toward Medicine Creek. “Just leave it to me, Dad.”
Within the embrace of his new lease on life, Ben couldn’t even feel the ground under his feet. Dad. As casual and natural as could be, Michael was touching him and calling him Dad. Well, damn if he didn’t suddenly feel like one.
Her hands too numb to work the knob, Emma rattled the door with kicks until Michael finally opened it.
“Jeez, Nem. What happened to you?”
“Where were you today?”
He took a step back as he shot a frantic look over his shoulder.
Emma followed his gaze. “I should have guessed when I realized Mr. Man of the Mountain here was missing, too. You played hooky, didn’t you?”
She directed her question to Mikey, but she was looking at Benjamin Sinclair, whose eyes were also wide with shock, moving up and down her wet, shivering body.
“Uh … yeah,” Mikey said. “Nem, what happened?”
She turned her glare on her nephew. “I’ve been swimming in Beaver Pond.”
“In your clothes?”
That question came from Sinclair, who stepped up—rather protectively—beside Michael.
“Get in here by the stove, Nem. You’re freezing,” Michael instructed, grabbing her sleeve and giving it a tug.
“No kidding, Sherlock.” She pulled free and waggled her finger in his face. “I called the school to get you out to help me. They said you weren’t there.”
“I … we … Dad and I went partridge hunting.”
Emma’s finger froze. He was calling Ben “Dad”? “I see.”
“Nem. Come on.” He grabbed her by the sleeve again and pulled her over to the woodstove. “Why did you need my help? Oh, God. Is Pitiful okay?”
“I have no idea where Pitiful is hiding,” she told him, fumbling with her coat buttons, finally snapping two off to get it open. She let it drop to the floor with a soggy plop. “One of our great white hunters saw a moose feeding in Beaver Pond and shot the damn thing. Right there—in five feet of water, over a hundred yards out!”
“Jeez.”
She glowered at her astonished audience as she held her hands over the firebox. “The damn moose sank right to the bottom. I wanted to tie a rock around that guy’s neck and sink himbeside his trophy bull.”
“Jeez, Nem,” Michael said again. He softly touched the frozen ends of her hair. “But you were guiding Martha Perry today. She shot the moose?”
“No. Martha’s husband was the brilliant one. I knewbetter than to agree to let him come along. I should have followed my rule about not guiding men. But it was Martha’s hunt, and she wanted him there.”
“You didn’t try to get it out by yourself, did you?” Mikey asked.
“Oh no. I had the gracious help of Mr. Perry. How in hell do you think I got soaked? At least he’s as soaked as I am. And so is Martha.” Emma grinned nastily. “My only satisfaction is that she’s madder at her husband than I am.”
“Where’s the moose now?” Ben asked.
Emma shivered. “With any luck, it will surface tomorrow.”
“You left it there?” Michael asked, sounding outraged.
“It’s a thousand-pound bull, Mikey. And it’s stuck on a sunken stump.” With squishing feet, Emma started out of the kitchen. “I’m going to change, and then you and I are going to pull it out with the truck. Dress warm. And grab some rope on your way to the truck.”
“Wait.”
Emma turned to face Ben, her eyes telling him to butt out. “Yes?”
“You’re not going out again tonight.” Apparently immune to her icy glare, he continued talking. “It’s dark, it’s below freezing, and you’re hypothermic. You need a hot bath, food, and then bed.”
“What I need, Mr. Sinclair, is for you to mind your own damn business while I mind mine. Get going, Mikey.”
Michael looked back and forth between her and his dad, his expression uncertain, his eyes filled with indecision.
So this was it. She had already lost him. Emma closed her eyes and turned for the bedroom, her shoulders drooping beneath the weight of her wet clothes and heavy heart. “Never mind, Michael. It’s time I learned to rely on myself anyway.”
“Nem?”
She didn’t stop at his hoarse plea. She squished her way to her room and softly closed the door, leaning back against it and lifting her face to the ceiling to keep her tears from falling down her cheeks.
Oh God, she had known this day would come. She’d been preparing herself for it forever, but there was no way she could everhave been prepared for the wrenching pain she felt.
The only person she loved would be leaving her life in just weeks, maybe even days. Michael would write and call and come to visit, but in between she’d be more alone than Jonah had been in his whale.
Standing by the door, with hands shaking either from the cold or the force of her heart shattering, Emma shed her clothes. She stepped out of the water that quickly pooled around them, then padded into her bathroom and turned on the shower. Not until she was under the hot, driving spray did her tears break free, washing down the drain with the mud and the last of her hopes.
She stood there until the shivering stopped and the tears ran out, then dried herself off and opened the bathroom door with a sigh of resignation. She wasn’t leaving that damn moose to rot all night. Even if Mr. Perry had been more enamored with the trophy than the meat, Emma refused to let it go to waste.
With her truck, a long rope, and her wits, she could drag the moose out of the bog and field dress it. Tomorrow she’d get it loaded and down to the tagging station—even if she had to camp out all night to guard the damn thing.
It was only a matter of logistics.
Emma was wrapping the towel around herself when she exited the bathroom, mentally making a list of the equipment she would need, when she suddenly stopped at the sight of two stockinged feet at the foot of her bed.
She snapped her head up and met Ben’s scowl.
“Get out of my room. Now.”
“I’ll get out just as soon as you get in bed.”
“I have work to do. And bed will be the front seat of my truck tonight.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve got to stand guard over that moose, or every coyote within fifty miles will be filling its belly.”
He slowly shook his head, and Emma finally noticed what he was holding. His hands were on his hips, his legs were spread for battle, and in his right fist was a rope.
“If that’s the best rope Mikey could find, he’s regressing. It needs to be a lot longer and thicker. It’s a thousand-pound bull.”
“This rope is plenty big enough. I’m guessing you’re not a pound over one twenty.”
She frowned at him. “What in hell are you talking about?”
He stepped up to her and Emma stepped back, bumping into the bathroom door as she clutched her towel more securely. She had to tilt her head up in order to keep eye contact, and from this angle, the guy looked way too tall and determined.
“It means I’m going to tie you to that bed if I have to, Emma.”
He was bluffing. She lifted her chin in some semblance of authority. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His eyes ignited like silver moonbeams.
“Michael wouldn’t let you.”
“I’m bigger than Michael, too.”
“I haveto go get that moose. It’ll bloat up like a balloon if I don’t field dress it tonight.”
“Mike and I will go get your precious moose. You’re in no condition to haul it out, much less sleep in your truck. I won’t tie you up if you crawl into bed and give me your word to stay there.”
“Medicine Creek Camps is my responsibility, not yours. And it’s not Michael’s anymore, either. Get out of my room.”
“Give over, Em.”
He wouldn’t daretie her to the bed. Would he?
“Fine. I hope you fall in Beaver Pond and get frozen there until spring!”
“You know it’s for your own good, Em. You’re dead on your feet.”
She swept past him to her bureau. “If there’s one thing a woman always loves to hear from a man, it’s that he’s being a jackass for her own good.” She grabbed some long johns and an insulated T-shirt and marched into the bathroom. “Make sure you don’t wear one of your nice shirts, Mr. Sinclair. Bloodstains don’t come out of expensive material any easier than good old flannel. And don’t forget a pillow.”
With that parting shot, she slammed the door in his face.
When she opened it again, her hair dry and her body decently covered, there were two sets of stockinged feet in her room.
Emma walked right past them and pulled back the covers and plopped into bed. She fluffed her pillows, straightened her blankets, folded her hands on her lap, then finally looked up. One set of gray eyes was laughing at her and the other set was studying her with concern.
“I heated some soup for you, Nem. You didn’t have any supper.”
Michael placed a tray on her lap. Emma looked down at the bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup, a sandwich big enough to choke a horse, crackers, hot tea, and a whole package of Elmer Fudge cookies.
A peace offering. Michael had seen her stiffen when he’d called Ben “Dad,” and taking sides with him now was making the boy feel like a traitor.
Emma wanted to throw the entire tray against the wall, bury herself under her blankets, and cry for a week. But she didn’t want Mikey pulled in two directions by two people he cared for.
She looked up at the young man she’d taken into her heart the moment he’d taken his first breath. Knowing her eyes were swimming in unshed tears, she smiled at him. “Thanks, Mikey. I’m starved.”
“We’ll go get the moose and bring it back here tonight. You just rest and stay warm, Nem. Please don’t worry about anything. Da—Mr. Sinclair and I can handle it.”
“Just be careful. The moose is near the south shore.”
“We’ll find it. Eat. I’m gonna go get the equipment together now. Eat,” he repeated, giving her one last hesitant look before silently striding out of the room.
Emma picked up the spoon and slowly swirled it around in the soup, watching the steam waft into the air. The bed beside her dipped with Ben’s weight, and a hand settled on the blankets beside her as he leaned across her legs. When she lifted her gaze, intense gunmetal gray pierced her.
“This isn’t going to work, Emma. We have to stop clashing every time we get within ten feet of each other. It’s tearing Mike apart. He shouldn’t have to choose between us.”
“I’m not asking him to.” She looked back down at her dinner. “I was a little … angry when I came in. And hearing him call you ‘Dad’ caught me off guard.” She looked back at Ben. “I’m glad he likes you. I’m glad you had today together. Now you can take him home.”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “No, I can’t. Mike’s not ready to walk away yet. Can’t you see that?”
Emma sighed, picked up one of the cookies and pulled it apart, exposing the chocolate. “Then I’ve got to give him a push,” she said, then raked the creamy center with her teeth.
“You push him, and he’s liable to push right back. Just give him some time.” He stole one of her cookies and popped it into his mouth.
The guy had no idea how to eat an Elmer Fudge.
“Give me some time, too, Em. Michael’s not the only one trying to feel his way through this mess.”
“Let me ask you something, Mr. Sinclair.”
“You could start making things easier for Mike if you called me Ben,” he suggested.
“Okay. Ben. Did you ever question that Michael might not even be your son?”
“Damn right I did. The moment I put down your letter.”
Emma ignored the fact that he still thought she had sent the letter. “But you don’t have any doubts now?”
“I didn’t have any before I came here. It’s like looking in a mirror twenty years ago.”
Emma smiled. “Yes. Michael’s the spitting image of you when you came here that summer. But how come you were sure before you even saw him? You must have known you weren’t the first man to be with Kelly. Michael could have belonged to someone else.”
Ben shook his head. “I had my lawyers check. And a private detective firm. I knew before I made my reservation here that Mike was mine.”
“I see.”
“I had you checked out quite thoroughly, too.”
“Me!”
“You haven’t had a very easy life, have you?”
Emma raised her chin. “I’ve had a wonderful life. Other than losing my parents and Kelly’s leaving, this has been heaven. Don’t you dare pity me.”
“Pity you! Good Lord, woman. I’m in awe of you.”
Emma snorted and grabbed another cookie. Ben plucked it out of her hand and replaced it with her spoon. “Soup first,” he ordered. He picked up the bowl of cookies, stood up, and put them on her nightstand.
Even in his stocking feet, the man had a tendency to loom. He stood there silently and patiently, and Emma knew that if she didn’t start eating he’d still be planted there come spring. She ate several spoonfuls laden with noodles, then pointed her spoon at the door.
“Enjoy yourself tonight, Ben. Consider field dressing that moose by headlight a rite of passage for father and son. I just wish I could be there to watch.” She gave him a brilliant smile as she got in the last salvo. “Mikey’s allergic to moose hair. So make sure you take your own knife.”
Her chin was suddenly lifted and her gasp muffled by warm, wickedly delicious lips—which were just as suddenly gone.
Chapter Seven
“Q uit rubbing your eyes. You’re making it worse.”
“I can’t help it. They itch.”
“Why in hell didn’t you let me dress the moose by myself?”
His son looked over at him with red, swollen eyes. “Because we were only trying to get the guts out, not butcher it. You were hacking off some of the best meat.”
“Yeah. Well. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I look at hamburger again.”
“Jeez, Dad. Beef isn’t born in plastic wrap.”
“Mine is.” He was so tired, Ben nearly dropped his head into the steering wheel. He rubbed his own eyes and peered out the windshield to see Medicine Creek Camps finally come into view. The sun was up, but blocked by mountains.
“Shit,” Mike said.
“Now what? Did that damn moose fall out of the truck?”
“Simms is here. That’s his truck.”
Ben saw a dirty black pickup parked next to the house. “It’s barely daybreak. What in hell is he doing here this early?”
“Or this late?” Mike asked softly. “Nem caved in awful easy last night. I never thought she’d really stay in bed.”
Ben remembered Emma saying she was going to give Michael a push, if that’s what the boy needed. Was Simms that push? Had she called him as soon as they’d left last night? If that man had spent the night with Emma, there was going to be more than just moose blood on his hands.
“I tried to warn you. You should have sent her those flowers.”
Ben halted the truck beside the black pickup, then grabbed Mike’s arm to stop him from jumping out. Not taking his eyes off the lighted kitchen windows, Ben spoke softly. “Let me handle this, Mike.”
“You won’t do anything … crazy?”
Ben smiled and let go of his arm. “I’m not making any promises.”
“Nem wouldn’t … she didn’t … she doesn’t even like the guy.”
“Then that makes three of us. Don’t worry—Simms wasn’t here all night.”
He hoped. But hell, who knew women? He certainly couldn’t figure this one out. She was supposedly in love with some unknown guy, yet she had exploded in passion yesterday in the woods. She loved Michael like a son, yet she had sent a letter that would ultimately take him away. She just might be crazy enough to think that Galen Simms would be a good way to give Mike the push he needed to leave the nest.
He should have tied her to the bed last night, out of reach of the phone. Hell, he shouldn’t even have brought her back home yesterday morning. He should have kept Emma in the woods for a week, and made love to her until she agreed to marry him.
Whoa! Married?
Where the hell had that come from?
Yeah, Mr. Brain-dead. The woman is in love with another man. You want to live with that the rest of your life?
Damn right he would, if it would gain him his son. He didn’t love Emma Sands, but that shouldn’t be an issue. Love and lust were two different things completely. He could see himself married to Emma without bringing love into the equation. He would simply offer marriage as a solution to their problem.
And she just might accept—for Michael.
“You going in, or are you waiting for the preacher to arrive?”
Ben turned his head and stared at his son in disbelief.
“Simms,” Mike clarified. “You going to kick him out, or throw rice at their wedding?”
Ben sighed in relief. “It would help if you would at least give me a hint. Who’s the guy she’s suppose to be in love with?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Mike narrowed his eyes, making them barely visible inside all the swelling. “Exactly what happened when you found her in the woods?”
“I’ll write you a letter explaining what happened and leave it in my will.”
“You tried to seduce her, didn’t you?”
“Goddammit! Your aunt tried to knock my head off. I couldn’t get close enough to seduce her!”
“Well, Jeez.”
“If you even so much as whisper about this, I’ll be all over you like road dust.”
Michael vigorously nodded, smiling like a well-fed cat. Which immediately made Ben suspicious.
“It’s a ruse, isn’t it? You invented some dream guy, and put the idea in my head that Galen Simms wants to marry Emma. You’re trying to manipulate your aunt and me into getting together so you don’t have to give up either one of us.”
The boy instantly sobered. “Nem’s hope chest isn’t invented. Neither is Simms. And I’m not being selfish. I can still have both of you even if we don’t live together.” Michael sighed and rubbed his eyes again. “I should probably just go to college and not bother living with either one of you.” He looked over at Ben with ancient, tired eyes. “I’ll just act like you’re both my parents, only divorced or something. Millions of kids live out of two households.”
“College is still a long way off. You’re only fifteen.”
“But I get my high school diploma at the end of December. I accelerated my classes. I’ve even taken some college courses already. And I’ve been accepted at MIT with full scholarship as soon as I’m ready.”
Ben fell back against the door of the truck as if he’d taken a blow to the chest. Michael Sands is a genius.
“Mike.”
“It’s okay, Dad. The chances of you coming here after fifteen years and picking up a relationship with me was far-fetched anyway.” He smiled sadly. “And no one knows my aunt better than I do. She can be more stubborn than a mule when something’s important to her.” He rubbed his eyes again. “She sees you as somebody who wants to take her whole life away. Do you blame her for fighting back?”
“No. Put that way, I’d probably fight like hell myself. I’m not going to walk away from you, Mike. And I won’t walk away from your aunt, either. We can work it out.”
“Not if we don’t get Simms out of the house. He really does plan to marry her. And he’s getting desperate.”
Ben whipped his head around and glared at the kitchen window. “Hell. I forgot about him.” He opened his door. “Give me some time. I can get your aunt to come around eventually.”
The boy’s grin was suddenly back. “Then you’re a better man than I’ll ever be. Nem has more defenses than a porcupine.”
Ben stalked up to the house, determined to cause a scene that would become legend in Medicine Gore. If he had to—and he hoped he did—he was going to kick Galen’s ass all the way home.
Assuming he found Simms sitting at the kitchen table. If he was in Emma’s bed, he might drag the bastard across the lake once or twice first. Either way, the man was going to know Emma Sands was no longer available.
When Ben walked in the kitchen door and didn’t find anyone, the blood drained from his face and he felt light-headed as he pictured Emma in bed with another man.
There was a sudden crash from the great room and the unmistakable sound of flesh being struck. Ben heard a pained gasp and another crash. Two strides brought him onto the scene of any woman’s nightmare. Emma was being held down by an angry man while she struggled to protect herself.
Galen Simms’s head snapped around as Ben roared in outrage. He was on the bastard before Simms could scramble to his feet. Ben pulled him up by the back of the neck and drove his knee into Simms’s ribs, sending the man sprawling on his back, away from Emma.
Ben saw her scramble away into the corner as he went after Simms again. The man was trying to stand and Ben caught him in the torso this time, using his boot. Simms rolled with the blow and came up on his hands and knees, then rolled again to avoid Ben’s third attack. He slammed into an end table, breaking it into splinters.
“Goddammit! What in hell are you doing!” the man yelled.
“Protecting what’s mine, you son of a bitch.” Ben caught the retreating bastard by the shoulder and turned him to plant a fist in Simms’s angry face. The man went down again, but quickly scrambled to his feet and ran for the kitchen door. Ben started to chase him, but suddenly caught sight of Emma, and he froze.
She was standing in the corner of the great room, a broken lamp held up like a weapon, her eyes wide with fear. The moment she realized the threat was over, she dropped the lamp and covered her face with her hands.
Ben looked at the open back door and saw Michael standing there.
He looked back at the corner. Emma was now sitting on the floor, tucked up in a ball so tight it was a wonder she could breathe, looking like a frightened child trying to make herself invisible.
Ben hunched down beside her, swearing under his breath when she flinched. Not knowing what to do but unable to just do nothing, he reached out and cupped her face. She tried to scoot away, only to be stopped by the wall.
“Emma. Honey. It’s just me.” He inched closer. “Come on, honey. Let me help you up.”
Hoping like hell he was doing the right thing, he carefully reached an arm under her knees and another around her shoulders, pulled her against his chest, and stood up. She buried her face in his shirt.
Ben kicked the broken table out of his way and sat down in her giant recliner, keeping her wrapped in a desperate embrace of fear and guilt. He’d been sitting outside in the truck thinking the worst, and she’d been in here trying to fight off a brutal attack.
“Let me look at you, honey. Where are you hurt?”
He couldn’t pry her loose of the protective fist she’d made of her body, and the last thing he wanted to do was force her. So he simply held her, rubbing her back.
As Mike rushed into the living room, he suddenly stopped and looked around at the destruction. Michael’s face paled as he brought his gaze back to his aunt on Ben’s lap.
“N … Nem? Nemmy? What happened?”
Ben motioned him over. “Simms attacked her. Come talk to her, Mike. I can’t tell how badly she’s hurt. She’s too upset.”
Three strides and Mike was kneeling beside the chair. He reached out and lightly touched Emma’s head. She stirred, but didn’t look up. It felt to Ben like she was trying to burrow under his shirt and hide.
“Oh, Nemmy. Did Galen do this to you?”
“Go away, Mikey,” came a muffled, distant plea.
“Tell me where you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine. Go away.”
“He won’t leave until you prove it, Emma. Let us take a look at you,” Ben urged, nudging his finger under her chin, which was like trying to wedge an elephant into a keyhole. Ben forced the issue and quietly sucked in his breath.
“Mike, go get us an ice pack.”
The boy nearly tripped over himself rushing to the kitchen. Ben lifted her chin again. “You’ve got the makings of one hell of a shiner, Emma. You’re going to have to sit up and let us take care of you.”
Her eyes were scrunched tight and leaking tears, and her cheek was already turning colorful. He had to use his shoulder to push her upright, and then he suddenly had to use both his hands to keep her from bolting off his lap.
“Easy now. Don’t get shy on me.”
Her eyes finally made contact with his, and just as suddenly she looked down at his chest and her whole face turned scarlet.
“My God. You’re embarrassed? Emma, look at me.”
She darted a worried glance at the kitchen door. “I . . . I don’t want Michael to see me like this,” she whispered. She tried to scoot off his lap again. “Let me go to my room.”
“So you can curl up in a ball in the closet?”
She shuddered. “I’m okay now. I just sort of … Galen surprised me. I … I never thought I could be overpowered like that. I thought only weak women were victims.”
