A Man Apart

Straightening, Maude Ann stood beside the bed, debating what to do next. Lines of pain and fatigue etched Matt’s face, and his skin had a grayish cast. His black hair was tousled and wet, and a lock hung down over his forehead. Her fingers itched to smooth it back off his face, but she resisted the urge.

Her gaze slid downward over the arm flung over his head, tracing the tender underside to its juncture with his body. For no reason, her attention was caught by the tuft of damp, dark hair under his arm. As she stared at it, she felt her stomach tighten.

Helpless to stop herself, she ran her gaze over his shoulders and throat, the sculpted beauty of his collarbone. A glint caught her eye, and she zeroed in on the jagged piece of silver nestled in the thatch of dark hair on his chest. She wondered what it was. It must be important, because he wore it all the time, even while bathing.

The mystery diverted her only seconds before her gaze was again drawn downward, trailing over his ribs, which moved rhythmically up and down with each heavy breath he drew.

Maude Ann’s mouth went dry. Lord, he was a magnificent male specimen. She knew she should look away, but she could not. Mesmerized, she continued her study, following that intriguing line of dark hair down over his belly and lower.

Then her gaze encountered the angry, puckered wound on his right leg. Instantly the sensual spell was broken.

Before she could stop herself she sucked in a sharp breath. Quickly she glanced at Matt’s face to make sure he hadn’t heard and found he was watching her, his eyes steady and glittering beneath half-closed lids.

Hot color rose in her neck and face, but for an interminable moment neither moved nor spoke. They simply stared at each other, their gazes locked.

The air in the room seemed thick, almost suffocating, magnifying every sound. Maude Ann could hear the wind-up clock on the bedside table ticking, the whir of the cicadas outside the window, the thrumming of her heartbeat in her ears. She wondered if Matt could hear it, too.

“See something you like, Dr. Edwards?”

Maude Ann swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “I was just looking at your wounds. They need tending. I’ll, uh…I’ll rebandage them for you, if you like.”

“What are you going to do? Kiss them and make them all better, like you do Debbie’s ouchies?”

“Hardly.” She forced a chuckle, fighting to regain control of the situation and her wayward senses. “You’re not four years old.”

She turned to go in search of his medical supplies, but his hand shot out and clamped around her wrist like a vice, jerking her to a halt. His blue eyes glittered dangerously, and when he spoke his voice dropped, becoming rough and steely.

“That’s right. I’m not one of your wounded chicks that you can cluck over and mother. I’m a man, with a man’s appetites.”

His gaze dropped to her chest, and his eyes darkened. Maude Ann was about to protest, but instead, a downward glance made her gasp and clamp her free arm over her breasts. The front of her gown and robe were still sopping wet, and the thin batiste clung to her body like a second skin. The air-conditioned air had cooled the wet cloth, causing her nipples to pucker and harden. They thrust against the wet gown, clearly visible through the semitransparent material.

“Right now I’m not in any shape to do anything about those appetites, but I will be soon. Remember that the next time you come waltzing in here uninvited. You may get more than you bargained for.”

Blushing from her hairline to her toes, Maude Ann stammered, “I got wet helping you. I didn’t realize…I certainly didn’t mean to flaunt myself. Anyway, I was only trying to help.”

“Oh? Is that what you were doing just now? Helping me?”

“Well, I—”

“Just keep in mind that the next time you’re tempted to look at me with that hungry gleam in your eye, you better be prepared for the consequences.”

Denial never even occurred to Maude Ann. Though it hadn’t been intentional, she had been admiring his body, and she’d been caught red-handed. She nodded. “Fair enough.”

She started to move away, but Matt’s grip on her arm tightened. She looked at him and arched one eyebrow.

Matt rubbed his thumb over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, and his eyes grew slumbrous. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to satisfy that hunger of yours.”

Her sense of humor and down-to-earth common sense, neither of which was ever far from the surface, came bubbling up. That she would find herself in such a situation with Matt Dolan, of all people, struck her as absurdly funny. He was the most intimidating, overwhelmingly masculine man she’d ever encountered. When she had worked for the HPD, even before she had met and married Tom Henley, Matt had paid her no more mind than a piece of office equipment.

That had suited her just fine. From their first meeting she’d had the good sense to know that someone like her, a simple homebody at heart, had no business getting involved with an intense, complicated man like Matt.

Shaking her head, Maude Ann gave a throaty chuckle and pulled her arm from his grasp. Matt’s eyes narrowed, his expression going from sensual to surprised, then annoyed. Clearly, he had not expected that reaction.

“Tempting as it is, I think I’ll pass on that offer, Detective. I may be a frustrated widow, but I know when I’m in over my head. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get some bandages for those wounds.”

“Don’t bother. I can manage.”

“Fine. Then I’ll say good-night.” Only moments ago she would have argued, but now a hasty withdrawal seemed the wisest course.

The instant Maude Ann pulled the door shut behind her, she leaned back against the kitchen wall and fanned her face with her hand. “Whew! That is one potent man,” she whispered.

The encounter with Maude Ann served as a wake-up call for Matt.

What his doctor’s repeated lectures and weeks of his friends’ pleas and cajoling had failed to do, the humiliating episode in the shower accomplished in mere minutes, firing in him an iron-willed determination to regain his strength—and with it, the life he’d had before he’d been shot.

He had allowed the doctor’s pessimism to infect him, to rob him of a sense of purpose. He had wanted a guarantee that he would recover. When he didn’t get one, he refused to try. It was easier to accept defeat from the start than to fight and struggle for weeks, maybe months, and fail, anyway.

He had been so mired in bitterness and self-pity he couldn’t see what a pathetic loser he’d allowed himself to become—not until he’d found himself sprawled helpless as a newborn baby on the shower floor, completely dependent on a woman to help him out.

It had stung to have Maude Ann see him so weak and helpless. So had that husky laugh of hers and her blunt honesty. The easy way she had twice dismissed the flare of desire between them had been downright insulting. Labeling her feelings nothing more than frustration had made it painfully clear that it wasn’t him she wanted; her reaction would have been the same with any man. Abstinence, not attraction, had prompted that smoldering inspection she had given him.

Intellectually Matt knew he shouldn’t let the incident bother him. Men, after all, had been guilty of the same impersonal lust for eons. The problem was, coming from a warm and sensual woman like Maude Ann, it had seemed doubly insulting to be relegated to nothing more than a sex object.

What the devil. She wasn’t his type, anyway, and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in getting involved with the woman.

Still…her attitude had rankled.

The way Matt figured it, the sooner he got back in shape and got out of there, away from the maddening woman and her ragtag bunch of kids, the better.

The morning after the shower incident, Matt rose early and did his exercises, this time with vigor, pushing himself almost beyond endurance.

Before going into the kitchen for breakfast, he braced himself for awkwardness, but it was a wasted effort; Maude Ann wasn’t there.

Loath to ask where she was, Matt pretended not to notice her empty chair, but the kids had no such inhibitions.

“Where’s Miz Maudie?” Tyrone demanded the instant he took his seat.

“Yeth, where ith she?” Debbie echoed.

“She’s gone into Cleveland to do some shopping,” Jane replied. “She’ll be back in an hour or so. Now you kids eat your breakfasts. Soon as we clean up the kitchen we’re going to do some chores.”

That brought groans all around the table, especially from Tyrone. Fighting the urge to laugh, Matt ducked his head and ate his waffles in silence.

After breakfast he went for a walk, taking the path through the woods that he’d seen Maude Ann and the kids use. Every step was agony. He limped along, sweating and breathless from the exertion and pain, putting most of his weight on his cane and forcing one foot in front of the other.

Jane was in the kitchen when he staggered in at last to get a drink. She looked up from icing a cake and raised an eyebrow when she saw his flushed, sweaty face.

“Gracious me, you look like forty miles of bad road. What on earth have you been doing, Detective?”

His mouth tightened. He crossed to the sink, the soft thud of his cane almost silent on the brick floor. He had made no attempt to cultivate a friendship with the woman or anyone else in the house, but Jane Beasley didn’t let that stop her.

She was a gregarious woman with a sometimes caustic forthrightness about her. She didn’t believe in formality and had no time for it. Everyone who came within her sphere she treated exactly the same. You could like it or lump it, it made no difference to her.

“I went for a walk in the woods.” He drew a glass of water, chugged it down in three long gulps and filled the glass again.

“Are you sure you’re up to taking walks just yet? You look ready to keel over to me.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need some water is all. I got kind of dehydrated.”

“Mmm, I’m not surprised, in this heat. Next time take a bottle of water with you. Oh, by the way, your shower is fixed. Maude Ann put some adhesive non-skid strips on the shower floor as soon as she got back from town.”

“She told you what happened?”

“Just that you took a fall last night. ’Course, Maudie being Maudie, she fretted about it all night. Took off at first light to buy those strips to remedy the situation. I swear, that woman’s a born mother hen.”

“That’s what she went shopping for so early?”

“Sure. What’d you expect?”

He hadn’t expected anything, really. Certainly not that she would make a special trip into town just for him.

Jane swirled the last dollop of icing on top of the cake with a flourish. Wiping her hands on a towel, she gave Matt another long look. “Why don’t you go out on the veranda and sit in the shade and rest a bit? You look plum peaked. I’m real glad you’re making an effort to recover, but it’s not good to push yourself too hard, you know. Particularly at first.”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Matt said in the cold voice he used to keep people at arm’s length.

“Well, you got it, anyway. No charge.” She waved both hands in a shooing motion. “Now go on out there and sit down before you fall down.”

He was tempted to refuse, just because she’d ordered him, but the veranda did look inviting. Besides, he was tired of being cooped up in his room.

“All right, all right. I’m going.”

The first thing Matt saw when he stepped out onto the back veranda was Maude Ann and the children working in the vegetable garden, about thirty feet behind and to one side of the lodge.

He gingerly lowered himself into a swing and settled back against a pillow to observe Maude Ann and her crew of pint-size gardeners.

As he followed her movements, his first thought was the same one he had over and over for the last four days. What the devil was she doing with this motley bunch of kids and only Jane Beasley to help her?

It didn’t make sense. She was an educated woman, a doctor. She could have a successful and lucrative career in Houston. She wasn’t his type, but she was an attractive woman. She was also incredibly sensual and responsive. He had firsthand knowledge of that. So why had she buried herself out here in the middle of nowhere?

Despite the nagging questions, a smile teased Matt’s mouth when he noticed that every one of the kids wore a straw hat. More of Maude Ann’s mothering, no doubt. Probably slathered them all with sun block, as well.

Most of the kids were working diligently. All except Tyrone. He merely leaned on his hoe, looking bored.

All Matt could see of Maude Ann was the top of her straw hat bobbing among the tall stalks of corn. Suddenly two corn stalks parted, and she stuck her head through the opening

“Tyrone, those weeds aren’t going to jump out of the ground, you know. Get busy.”

“I don’t want to hoe no weeds.” He shot her a look, his mouth set in a mulish pout. “I ain’t no farm boy.”

“No, you’re not. But you are a boy who likes to eat. Around here everyone does their part, so either get busy with that hoe or come over here and help me with the corn.”

For a moment Matt thought the boy would refuse, and he sat up straighter in the swing, preparing to lend a hand if the little hoodlum gave her any trouble. Then Tyrone threw down his hoe and stomped over to the corn patch, high-stepping over the rows of plants and muttering under his breath. He was a city boy, he groused. He didn’t belong here.

For the next fifteen minutes or so the seven-year-old miscreant trudged along behind Maude Ann, looking sullen and ready to revolt, while she broke ears of corn off the stalks and dropped them into the basket he carried. By the time she finished, Tyrone’s load had grown so heavy he was gripping the handle of the basket with both hands.

Maude Ann wiped her brow with her forearm and arched her back. “Tyrone, sweetie, take the corn into the house and give it to Jane.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Before she got all the words out he headed off as fast as the heavy basket would allow. “And come straight back!” she called after him.

Watching the boy move away, Maude Ann shook her head, but a smile curved her mouth.

Turning her attention to the other children, Maude Ann moved around the garden checking their progress, assisting some and correcting technique where necessary.

“She’s something, isn’t she?”

Startled, Matt looked up and found Jane standing beside the swing holding a tray containing a pitcher of lemonade and glasses, her gaze fixed on Maude Ann.

Matt turned his attention back to the garden and said nothing, but that didn’t deter Jane.

“That gal’s a natural with children. She’s never met one she didn’t adore. And they love her back, too. Even the problem ones like Tyrone come around after a while. You ask me, it’s a darned shame she and her husband didn’t have any of their own. A woman like that should have a houseful.”

Matt had to agree, but he merely shrugged and said, “There’s time. She’s still a young woman.”

“Huh. Fat lot of good that does. She hasn’t been out on a date with a man since Tom was killed, and she ain’t likely to go anytime soon. Where is she going to meet a man, stuck out here in the country with a passel of young’uns seven days a week, I’d like to know? She never takes a day off, though the good Lord knows, I nag her about it enough.” Jane glanced his way. “I was hoping when you showed up that something might happen between you two, but I can see now that you’re not suited.”

Matt frowned. He agreed, but somehow, hearing it from Jane annoyed him. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s a warm, loving woman who adores children. Pardon me for saying so, Detective, but you’re about the coldest, most unfeeling man I’ve yet to meet. You act as though the children don’t exist. Why, that poor little angel, Debbie, chatters away at you all the time, and you ignore her. If there’s an ounce of tenderness or love in you, I’ve yet to see it. No insult intended, but Maudie deserves better.

“Now then, I’d best be getting back to work. Those young’uns are going to be starving when they’re done in that garden. Here’s your lemonade.” She plunked down the tray on the wicker table beside the swing and went back inside.

That was certainly plain talk, Matt thought, frowning after her. Oh, well, he did ask.

Matt turned his attention back to Maude Ann. It was funny—when she’d worked for the department, he would never have pegged her as a nurturer. He had assumed that all psychiatrists were cool, analytical people who stood a little apart from the rest of the world, observing, rather than participating. That was part of the reason he’d steered clear of her. That and the fact that he had always preferred chic blondes with a bit of an edge.

Maude Ann, however, was neither cool and distant nor chic and sophisticated. She was totally natural and unaffected. She was a woman who went around barefoot in cutoff jeans and T-shirts without a speck of makeup. A woman who opened her arms to children with problems. A woman who was compassionate and loving and maternal, a natural born earth mother.

Her husky laugh rang out, and Matt saw her grab Debbie up and swing her around.

He’d seen her do that sort of thing constantly since his arrival. Daily, she gave each child an equal amount of attention and time, listening to their earnest chatter as though it was the most important thing she’d ever heard, laughing with them and giving them smiles and praise. He’d noticed, too, that she constantly touched the children, ruffling their hair, patting their cheeks or their shoulders, giving them hugs and kisses or squeezing their hands.

No doubt, that sort of thing was important to a child’s emotional well-being. The kids certainly seemed to eat it up.

What baffled Matt was, why the devil did those simple actions suddenly seem so damned sexy?

Chapter Five

He was getting stronger. He could feel it.

Matt hobbled along the path through the woods, determination and a feeling of satisfaction driving him on.

Every day he pushed himself a little harder than the day before, walking farther, forcing himself to depend less and less on the cane, and the effort was beginning to pay off. Mostly he used the walking stick for balance, leaning on it only now and then when he stepped wrong and received a jab of pain in his leg.

He went around a bend and through the trees saw the lodge up ahead. Matt chugged down the last of his water, and when he emerged from the woods, he headed for the back steps. On the veranda he paused to do a few cool-down twists and stretches.

He took these walks in the mornings, and in the afternoons he did the exercises and stretching that the hospital’s physical therapist had recommended, only Matt did more than prescribed, and he was gradually stepping up the pace and intensity. The pain was still there. So was the limp, but both were gradually lessening.

It had been two weeks since he’d started applying himself to getting back in shape, and already he could walk half a mile or more without undue suffering. Jane’s excellent cooking had put back some of the weight he’d lost, and the color had come back to his skin. If he continued to improve at the same rate, he figured he could switch from walking to running within a couple of months.

When he reached that goal, he would get Hank or one of the other guys on the force to bring his set of weights to the lodge so he could begin some strength training.

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