Saved By The Baby

“You don’t owe me a blamed thing. This county needed a good sheriff and we were danged lucky to get you.”

“Still, I wish things could have been different for Shelly’s sake.”

“I know that, boy. That’s why I got no hard feelings.” Bert smiled and reached for another peppermint. “That and the fact that Shelly found a nine-to-five fellow and had me some grandbabies.”

“She deserved a better man than me.”

He’d married Shelly out of gratitude, like a groveling dog happy to have a pat on the head. She’d made him feel like a man again during those dark days when he’d cared more about killing himself with liquor and fighting than living, so he’d repaid her kindness by messing up her life. And the remorse he felt for disappointing his mentor, the only man who’d ever believed in him, would never go away.

He shook his head to clear the memory. As a rabble-rousing teenager he’d been called worthless trailer trash. Now he hid behind a clean uniform and a sheriff’s badge, but deep down he figured the cruel taunt was still true.

Pushing back from the table, he looked at his wristwatch. “Time to get back to work before the good citizens of Blackwood change their minds about me.”

“Don’t want to talk about Julee, huh?” Bert looked at him with a half smile.

“Nothing to talk about.” He reached down to rub his knee. Thinking about Julee stirred up all his old aches and pains, some of them higher up than his knee. “She zoomed in here like a mosquito. Once she’s zapped everyone’s blood, she’ll zoom right back out. The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

As he started to rise, the hospital administrator tapped in on low-heeled pumps to tack a huge poster on the bulletin board. Tate lifted a hand in greeting, then let it fall to the table, sinking back into his chair. A photo of Julee and her famous legs stared out at him below a caption announcing the bone-marrow drive. And if that wasn’t enough to make him swallow the peppermint whole, the celebrity herself swept into the center, long, glorious legs drawing the stares of everyone in the place.

Julianna’s heart took one giant leap from her chest to her throat. Tate, looking too handsome to be real, scowled at her from across a checkerboard. For the hundredth time since the meeting at his office, she asked herself why he disliked her so much. He’d been the one to betray her and find someone else in a painfully short amount of time. She’d known then that his love had not run as deep as he’d claimed.

Julee remembered the morning she’d left Blackwood like yesterday. Tate, wearing his high-school letter jacket, long black hair slicked into a ponytail, leaned his backside against a beat-up old Ford pickup, pulled her between the V of his legs and held her until the bus arrived.

She couldn’t recall much of anything they’d said, just the feel of his rock-hard arms holding her close, the wool and leather scent of his jacket, and the warmth of his breath on her hair. The heavy ache of parting hung in the air between them. When the bus arrived, air brakes ripping the quiet morning, she’d started to cry. The Oklahoma wind had whipped her long hair around her face. Tate had smoothed it back, then cradled her face in his hands and brushed away the tears.

“Promise you’ll come back,” he whispered fiercely. “Promise.”

Since the day she’d received the call from the Body Parts Agency in California, he’d agreed she had to go. He knew how badly she and her widowed mother needed the money this contract promised. No matter how much she loved Tate, this was a chance in a lifetime she had to take.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

But the tormented look in his green eyes said he was just as scared as she was.

Heart breaking, she’d almost backed out, almost decided not to go when he pushed her up the steps.

“Go.” He shoved twenty dollars in her hand and stepped back. “They’re gonna love you out there.”

As the double doors folded inward, he pressed two fingers to his lips and laid them on the window. She’d held his eyes, frantically mouthing “I love you, I love you,” until the bus rumbled away and he was lost in the smoke and fumes. Hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, he’d stared back at her with a stark, broken expression. She’d cried all the way to L.A., fearing that last kiss was his final farewell.

It had been. Regardless of his promise to wait, he’d found someone else and married before she’d even discovered she was pregnant with his child. So much for his promises of undying love. He’d moved on with his life and eventually so had she. So, why was he staring at her now as though she was a hair in his hamburger?

Self-conscious beneath his scrutiny, she smoothed both hands down the sides of her powder-blue sheath. Though she’d intentionally dressed to appear successful and confident, she felt as gawky and insecure as she had in high school, the skinny girl who was all legs.

To make matters worse, the hospital administrator, who was nearly as excited about the bone-marrow drive as she, drew the attention of everyone in the room. “Look, Julianna,” she squealed. “There’s the man you need.”

Julee cringed. Oh, she needed him all right, though she prayed he’d never find out just how much. Reluctantly, she left the woman’s side and moved in Tate’s direction. Since the disastrous meeting in his office, she’d steered clear, hoping public pressure would convince him to donate after she couldn’t do the job. Now, time was growing short. She had to be certain he would be in town that day. If worse came to worst, she’d do the unthinkable. Against her mother’s advice and at the risk of causing trouble for Tate and his wife, she’d tell him about Megan.

Approaching the table she recognized Bert Atkins, the man who’d been sheriff in her high-school days. Since arriving in Blackwood she’d renewed a number of old acquaintances, and though she didn’t want to be here, had never planned to return, she was surprised to feel an unexpected nostalgia for her hometown.

“Hello, Mr. Atkins,” she said cordially, training her eyes on him instead of Tate. Even then, she could imagine the heat of disapproval simmering from the county sheriff. Her pulse thudded disconcertingly.

“Howdy, Miss Julee. How’s the big city?”

“Hectic. Noisy.”

Bert grinned. “Yep, that’s the way I remember cities.”

“But L.A.’s a great city,” she hurried to interject, not wanting him or Tate to know just how hectic life had become or how peaceful and pleasant Blackwood seemed after the crowded stress of L.A. “How about you? How’s the family?”

“Good. Good. Shelly’s a counselor over at the high school now and got two little ones, Zack and Amy. I’m a granddaddy.”

A counselor. Julee’s sense of worth dropped another notch. While she was flashing her legs for a camera, Tate’s wife helped young people find direction and guidance.

And Tate had other children now. She glanced at him, but his green eyes were as hard and unreadable as marbles.

“I’m glad, Mr. Atkins. Tell her hello for me.”

“You can tell her yourself. She’ll be here the day of your big blood drive. I guess half the county will be.”

“I hope so. That’s what I needed to see the sheriff about.”

“Well, sit down then.” The older man hopped up and pulled out a chair. “You two go on and talk while I find me a cup of coffee.” He glanced at Tate with a grin. “Guess Mildred isn’t planning to bring me one.”

Though she had no idea what he meant, Julee smiled in response and accepted the chair as Bert moved away, leaving her alone with Tate. For some reason, her legs grew weak every time she encountered Sheriff Congeniality. Scooting up to the table her knee bumped his, sending a warm awareness straight to her midsection. The contact had the opposite effect on Tate. He jerked as though she’d stabbed him.

Julee felt a trickle of remorse as realization struck. “Is it your knee?”

The question caught him by surprise. He blinked, reflexively reaching for the old injury. “No. The knee’s fine.”

“Oh. Good.” An uncomfortable silence hung between them. After their initial encounter Julianna wasn’t sure how to begin. What else could she possibly say to this familiar stranger that would change his mind?

“Could we declare a truce? Start all over?”

His right eyebrow shot up. “Start over?”

Closing her eyes momentarily she bit back a sigh. Once she’d been able to tell him anything, but now time and heartache had built a wall between them. “The hospital administrator tells me you’re the man to see about traffic control.”

He shifted sideways, away from her. The fluorescent lights cast a glare along his square jawline, highlighting a narrow white scar. With a shock, she remembered the night he’d gotten that scar…because of her.

“Why would a blood drive require traffic control?”

Julee forced the memory away, though looking into his moss-green eyes proved just as tumultuous. “Because the high-school band has volunteered to drum up interest, if you’ll pardon the pun, by marching down Main Street Saturday morning. People will hear the band and be reminded that the drive has begun.”

A gaggle of ladies, all carrying bags of yarn, twittered past, poking each other as they cast knowing looks at the handsome sheriff. Tate nodded politely, trying to cover an expression of amused exasperation.

“Look, Julee,” he said, leaning near enough that she caught a whiff of peppermint and some wonderfully warm male scent. “I’m the sheriff, not a parade marshal. Can’t the city police take care of that sort of thing?”

Julianna’s pulse stumbled. From this close she could count the black spiky lashes framing Tate’s green eyes. He had such beautiful eyes, deep and fathomless, and as full of mystery as the man himself.

Hands in her lap, she nervously twisted them together. Why was she thinking of Tate and that scar and his gorgeous eyes? Hadn’t she had enough bad experiences with men? And why was she suddenly hub-deep in memories of the two of them jouncing along in that old beat-up Chevy truck, its heater barely keeping the fog off the wind-shield while they listened to Pearl Jam on their way to a football game? It was in that pickup that they’d first… Julianna mentally slammed on the brakes. Do not go there.

“The city police are helping,” she said, amazed to sound so normal when her thoughts were anything but. “But they suggested your office was needed to erect detour barriers for through traffic and such things as that. In fact, Chief Little suggested the two of you coordinate efforts.”

On an exhale Tate leaned back in his chair and glanced down at his watch. Light reflected off the handsome copper band with turquoise insets. “I’ll talk to him.”

Relieved, Julianna pressed clammy hands to the table-top. With any luck, she and the enthusiastic townspeople would wear down his resistance. Come Saturday, Tate would stretch out that dark, sinewy arm and give their daughter a new chance at life. “I appreciate this. I really do.”

With an accepting tilt of his head, Tate’s gaze fell to her hand. “That’s quite a ring.”

“Thank you.” Nervously, she clasped the ringed hand to her chest, twisting the sapphire that matched her eyes.

“Engagement ring?”

“No.”

He arched that black eyebrow again and she wished he’d stop it. The movement of that one little eyebrow had the power to reduce her to nothing. Embarrassed by her completely aberrant thoughts as well as the ostentatious sapphire, which had been a gift from a former beau, heat rushed to her cheeks. The cut and size of the stone weren’t all that unusual in L.A. but here in Blackwood the ring seemed out of place. And so did she.

“So you’re not married?” Behind the unfathomable eyes lurked an emotion Julee couldn’t identify.

Uncomfortable with the personal turn of conversation, she gestured vaguely. “Not at the moment. My life is far too busy.”

She didn’t want to admit the truth, especially to Tate, but the last man she’d dated had lost all interest when Megan’s cancer returned. Though Julianna was too occupied with saving her daughter to mourn his loss, his disappearance had cemented her belief that she was only an ornament, a decoration.

“Too busy,” he said softly, the words a reminder of how their own busy lives had pulled them in different directions.

The double doors leading into the center flapped open and a slight breeze swirled around their legs, bringing with it the scent of coffee and the remnants of the Chamber luncheon. A rattle of voices, the words incomprehensible, drifted around the room, but Julee felt isolated, captured in the aura of Tate McIntyre. An odd lump of longing filled her throat.

For a nanosecond the air vibrated with memory. Julee studied the remains of an interrupted checker game, making every attempt not to look at Tate.

Breaking the mood, Tate scraped back from the table and rose. “Sorry to run out on you again, but duty calls.”

She looked up at him, grateful for the tiny crack in the fence between them. For one entire minute there had been a feeling, a something hovering around that table, that gave her hope. “Your job seems very important to you.”

“It’s my life.” His wonderfully angled jaw clenched. “And I’m good at it, Julee. I’m good at it.”

He turned to move away, his muscular legs long and fluid in the creased uniform pants.

“Tate,” she called.

He turned back, waiting.

“I’m glad you’ve made a good life, that you’re happy.”

A flash of something—pain?—quickly masked, flared as he held her gaze. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to feel the magnetism of Tate and the old memories, but she couldn’t seem to tear her attention away. And truly she was pleased that the hurting boy she’d loved had found fulfillment.

“What about you?” he asked, his words intense, almost harsh. “Are you happy?”

“I…I…” Julee stuttered. “Of course.”

“Good.” For another interminable moment he held her with a look that brought a flush to her face and trepidation to her soul. And then he was gone, the beautiful athletic physique striding out of the Senior Center.

Why had he asked such a thing? And why had she hesitated? Her life was busy. She had her career, her friends. And most of all, she had Megan. Certainly, she was happy with the life she’d chosen.

Wasn’t she?

Chapter Four

The day of the bone-marrow drive dawned with the perfect sunny weather of mid April in Oklahoma. Tate awoke, just as he did at least three times a week, in the front seat of his SUV. Only this morning the blast of the Blackwood High School marching band yanked him upright. He cracked his bad knee on the steering wheel and cursed. In the seat next to him a warm wiggling form yelped, reminding him of his only reward for a sleepless night.

Last night he’d sat inside a rusted-out station wagon inside the B & D Auto Salvage where he’d observed a transaction he could only view as suspicious. To his disappointment, no hard evidence of a chop-shop operation had come his way.

A warm wet tongue scraped at his hand.

“Hey, partner.” With a grin, he stroked the skinny, red, mixed-breed pup he’d found scrounging around the Dumpsters outside B & D. He’d shared his chips and baloney with the mutt, but that had been hours ago. “I’ll bet you’re hungry as a bear.” His own belly growled. “I sure as heck am.”

Hoisting the pup like a football, he unlocked the side door to his office and, thankful for the facilities made available by his predecessor, went inside for a quick shower and shave. On his way he grabbed several pieces of ham from the small refrigerator in the employee’s lounge.

“Here you go, fella.” He laid the slices on a paper towel and filled a bowl with water. “This’ll have to do until we can get out to my place.”

Which wasn’t likely to be soon. Tired as he was, today was the day of the bone-marrow drive. And he’d be glad when it was over. Then Julee and her famous legs could go back to L.A. and leave him the heck alone.

Not that she’d actually asked that much of him, but her presence in town had caused him no little discomfort. Everyone who remembered their romance brought it up. And everyone else seemed bound and determined to involve him in Julee’s project. He didn’t want to think about Julee and the rush of longing he experienced every time someone mentioned her name.

From outside, a tuba ripped off a few practice notes. He’d better hurry. He stepped into the closet-sized bathroom and shut the door.

Every man in town was agog over Julee. Big deal. What man wouldn’t be enthralled by her combination of beauty, smarts and success? Just because she wasn’t married now didn’t mean she hadn’t been a half dozen times before. And even if she’d had as many lovers as his mother, her private life was none of his business. But he’d gone off spouting about happiness like a love-starved orphan. He’d had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from asking if she was dating anyone. And if she was, was he good to her? Did he make her laugh? Would he give her the houseful of kids she’d always wanted?

Stripping off his clothes he kicked the wrinkled jeans into the corner in disgust.

There he went again assuming she was still the same Julee he’d known, when she clearly wasn’t. Back then she’d dreamed of two things—making enough money to take care of her mother and then spending the rest of her life with him and the babies they would make together. Now, family was the last thing on her mind.

He’d known then the dream was too good to be true and that he’d lose her to California, proving what he’d always known. A shanty-town bastard with a chip on his shoulder wasn’t good enough for her or any decent woman. That was okay. He’d accepted who he was and all his shortcomings a long time ago. He didn’t deserve her, never had.

She’d been so good, his Julee. The kind of girl who championed the underdog, stood up against bullies. He smiled at that, remembering how she’d stood up to him a few times when he’d wanted to break some guy’s nose just because he was mad at the world. Sensible, gentle Julee had a calming effect on the wild, angry boy he’d been. She could make him do anything.

But not this time. Not again. He nearly hadn’t survived the last time. He couldn’t fall under her spell again.

He grabbed a towel from the tiny corner cupboard and turned the shower on full blast.

He had to get Julee out of his mind and out of his town. If he could keep his distance another twenty-four hours she’d be gone. Stepping beneath the spray, he let the warm water drown every thought of Julianna Reynolds.

In minutes, smelling and feeling considerably better and dressed in the extra uniform he kept hanging on the back of the bathroom door, Tate was out on the street. The stray pup attached his nose to the sheriff’s creased pant leg and followed.

This morning the usually early sheriff was late, a fact that disgruntled him no end. To make matters worse, Julee stood in the middle of Main Street talking to his deputies. So much for washing her out of his mind. Every cell in his body started to hum. Criminy. Why’d she have to look like that?

“Mornin’, boss.” Jeet waved a doughnut in his direction. Tate’s stomach growled again. He’d given the last of the ham to the pup. “What’s that thing following you? A piece of rusted baling wire?”

Glad for the distraction, Tate’s mouth quirked at the apt description of the skinny pup dogging his heels. “Ah, just a stray I picked up last night.”

“Another one?” Jeet’s fleshy jowls jiggled as he turned toward Julee. She looked beyond beautiful standing in the morning sun with her long brown hair gently blowing around her face. “The sheriff here’s got a dozen of these mutts running around his place. Supposed to turn them over to animal control, but he never does.”

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