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“It's like I never left,” Joy whispered, wondering whether she would get sucked back into her old role and how much she would mind it.
“Let's get inside,” Frankie said, lifting the suitcase out of the back seat. “It's cold and you've only got that thin blazer on.”
The minute they walked into the house, the men cheered.
“Hey! It's our world traveler,” Spike called out while walking around the island. The man was well over six feet tall with tattoos on his neck and a muscular build that made you want to stick on his good side. His jet-black hair was spiked off his scalp. Thus his name. And his clothes were all dark and loose.
His appearance was scary as hell. But as he looked at her, his smile was pure gold and his odd, yellow eyes held deep affection. Well, affection and the kind of territoriality she imagined pit bulls and mastiffs had in spades. She had every confidence that if anyone ever messed with her, Spike would take care of the problem. And then some.
He held out his arms. “Show us some love, baby girl.”
She laughed and gave him a hug. He always smelled good. Like clean laundry.
“Who's your new friend?” she asked, nodding to the unfamiliar stove.
Nate winked at her in greeting. “Old one died three days ago. We were lucky to take this gal off the show?room floor, but I'm not sure she's right for us.”
Spike shook his head. “That damn thing mined my bread.”
“Yeah, the oven temperature's uneven.”
“So tell us about the big city,” Spike said while push?ing her down into a chair. A minute later he'd poured her some juice from the fridge and put a plate of homemade wheat crackers in front of her. “I made these this after?noon. I think you'll like 'em.”
As she shared some of her adventures, Nate cooked up some beef stew while the four of them laughed and chatted. They were just sitting down to dinner when the phone rang.
“I'll get it,” Frankie said, jogging out to the office. She came back, a curious expression on her face. “Joy, it's for you. Gray Bennett.”
Joy covered up her blush by wiping her mouth with a napkin and hustling out of the kitchen. She straightened her shirt before picking up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Why didn't you call me?” Gray demanded. Then he blew out a breath. “Sorry, that's not the best way to start a conversation, is it?”
She laughed. “I was going to give you a ring after we finished dinner.”
“Was the trip okay?”
“Long. Gave me time to think.”
There was a pause. “That can be dangerous.”
“It wasn't.”
“So what were you thinking of?”
Now it was her turn to be quiet. “Nothing important.”
Wimp, she thought.
“Actually, that's not true,” she amended. “I was think?ing about how much I liked being down in the city. Spend?ing some time away from home was a good thing, although I' m happy to be back. Well, happy and a little disoriented.”
That's enough, she thought. She was wading into the babbling pool and it was better not to go into all the other things she'd thought over. The things involving him.
“Joy?”
“Yes?”
“I miss you.” Before she could say anything, he went on. “I'll let you get back to your family, but I'll call you tomorrow.”
She hugged herself, feeling a kind of happiness that cut so deep she knew it was dangerous. She'd been worried he'd forget her when she left, but it sure didn't sound as though he had. Of course, it had only been a matter of hours.
“I miss you, too, Gray.”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“See you in my dreams tonight,” he said with a husky drawl.
And then he hung up.
When she sat back down at the table, she couldn't hide her grin, and conversation ground to a halt.
“What was that all about?” Frankie asked.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right,” Nate said, frowning. “Is Bennett making a play for you? 'Cause if he is, he better clean up his act.”
“I thought you liked him,” Joy murmured, smile fading.
“I do. I just know him too well. That man's a menace with women.”
Joy played with her stew and thought about Gray's frus?trating self-control. “He's been a real gentleman with me.”
And who'd have thought that'd be a pity?
Nate stared across the table at her, his eyes flashing all sorts of male protective stuff. “Well, if he behaves himself, I'll let him keep his teeth.”
Spike crossed his thick arms and nodded. “Wise man'll take you up on that offer. Dentures are rough and caps are expensive.”
Joy shook her head and laughed, but she didn't get into bed with a smile on her face. Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered where Gray was and what he was doing. Somehow she couldn't picture him out with another woman, but how much of that was just wishful thinking?
She was turning over when she heard a soft knocking.
“Hello?” she called out. The door opened, revealing a big, dark shape. “Alex?”
She sat up as her brother limped into the room. He was leaning heavily on his crutches, his shoulders cocked out of place from bearing his weight. He had on a Red Wings T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.
“Sorry if I woke you,” he said.
“I wasn't sleeping. And even if I was, you can come in wheneverÑ”
“I wanted to thank you for the gift. When I saw the book on the bureau, I figured it had to be from you.”
“You were asleep when I popped my head in. I didn't know if you still liked Harry Potter or whether you'd read that one.”
“I do. And I didn't have it. So thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
He shuffled over to her worktable, staring down at the spools of thread and the pin cushions. He reached out and picked up her pinking shears. 'Tell me about the city."
“It was wonderful.”
“Yeah? I was hoping you'd enjoy yourself. It's about time.”
“And I have more clients now.”
“Good for you.” He put down the scissors, swaying a little on the crutches.
“Would you like to sit?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I'm trying to force myself to get up and around. Although this week is going to set me back again.”
“What are they going to do to you?” she whispered, her hand coming up to her throat.
“The titanium rod they put in to replace the bone isn't taking. They're going to try again. If it doesn't work, I may be looking at amputation.”
Joy hissed. “AlexÑ”
“I haven't told Frankie about that last part. Would ap?preciate if you didn't mention it to her.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“And I shouldn't have told you. I guess I just wanted someone else to know. So not everyone would be knocked out if I come through this missing my lower leg.”
He moved slowly over to the window and stared out into the dense night.
“Alex, is there anything I can do?”
He was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft, she could barely make out the words.
“Tell me how she is.”
Joy leaned forward on the bed, as if she could better understand what he wanted if she were closer to him. “I'm sorryÑwho?”
There was a long pause. “Cassandra.”
Her brother's back was rigid, his bunched shoulders set tight as the cast on his leg. The still silence of him told her how important any information about the widow was.
“She's...ah, she's...I don't really know.” Joy shifted her legs up and put her arms around her knees. “I didn't know her before and I don't know her all that well now. She doesn't sleep, I can tell you that. I'd hear her walk?ing around the apartment at night. And I think she has to work at being social. Sometimes when we were out, I'd find her staring off into the crowd as if her body was in the room but she was somewhere else. And I caught her crying once. I got home early and she was out on the ter?race, watching a cloud bank come in over the city. When she came back in, her eyes were red and she went into the library.”
“Is that portrait of Reese still in there?”
“Yes.”
Alex shook his head. “I used to razz him about that painting, but he said Cassandra needed something to re?mind her of him when he was gone.”
There was a tight silence.
“She asked about you,” Joy murmured.
Alex's head dropped down, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. I figured you wouldn't want me telling her anything.”
“Thank you. Thank you for that.” He looked over his shoulder. “You've always understood me, haven't you?”
Joy shrugged. “Not always. But I respect your need for privacy.”
He hobbled over and sat on the bed. Even though he'd lost weight, the springs groaned as they accepted him. He stretched his left leg out and winced.
“Is she seeing anyone?” he asked roughly.
“No.”
He closed his eyes as if in relief, but then his expres?sion hardened.
“It's still early. She'll find someone. A woman like her in New York can have her pick of men.”
“She told me she wasn't interested in dating.”
“That will change.”
Joy studied her brother's face. The bitterness seemed out of place, she thought. Unless Alex was thinking of his friend.
“She seems to really miss her husband,” Joy said. “And I don't think she's the kind of woman who's going to fill the void with a casual affair.”
She'd hoped to relieve his mind. Instead, Alex's pro?file only grew tighter.
Something like an instinct or a premonition made her stop talking. What if Alex had feelings for... Good Lord.
“Why won't you see her?” Joy asked gently.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
He shook his head sharply. “It's not right.”
With a quick movement, Alex lifted one of his crutches into the air and stood it upright on the center of his palm, balancing the length on its rubber foot. The ease with which he pulled off the feat was typical of him. The marvelous hand-to-eye coordination, the control of his limbs. He'd always been good at anything physical, a consummate athlete.
She thought about what the loss of his lower leg would do to him. Heck, even if he could keep it, he might well be finished in the professional sailing game. The doctors had told him the limb would never be as strong as it had been.
She tried to imagine the black hole he was facing if he didn't go back to racing. Everything he had lived for would be lost: his profession; his colleagues; the outlet for his competitive spirit. And worst of all, his wander?lust, once slacked by the sea, would be earthbound.
Joy stroked his shoulder. “I love you, Alex. And no matter what happens, I'll always be there for you.”
The crutch pitched off his hand, falling into thin air. He caught it before it landed on the ground.
“I love you, too,” he said without looking at her.
Chapter Twelve
Joy spent the week sketching, watching Grand-Em and, rather pathetically, waiting for Gray to call. The saving grace of the latter was at least he always did. Once in the morning. Once at night. Every single day, without fail.
He always asked about what she was doing. How the dresses were going. How her family was. His voice sounded good in her ear, and when he'd laugh softly or say her name, she was reminded of what it was like to be close enough to his body to feel him breathe.
