The Sergeant's Secret Son

She pushed herself up from the chair. “I guess I should see what you’ve got. We’re in a lull right now, but it won’t last long if the last few hours are any indication. I’d better get as much put away as I can before I get another flood of patients.”

“Just show me where.”

Trying to ignore the sparks of attraction practically snapping between them, Macy peered into the top box in Alex’s muscular arms. “Those look like first-aid supplies. I suppose I should leave them out right where I can get to them,” she said, thinking out loud. “Pretty much all my patients tonight have been broken bones and lacerations.” She showed Alex to one of the two examining rooms.

Alex lowered the boxes to the floor near the exam table. “You want me to divvy this stuff up so you’ll have some in each room?”

Why hadn’t she thought of that? Was she really that exhausted, or did Alex’s mere presence keep her from thinking clearly? It had to be a little of both. “That’s a great idea,” she finally said. Alex didn’t comment on her delayed response, but went straight to work.

Grateful that Alex was distracted from her for the moment, Macy turned to one of the other boxes. These, too, could be divided up between the two examining rooms. Trying to ignore Alex’s too-charismatic presence, she concentrated on putting everything away.

“I assume your place is okay,” Alex said, trying to ease the heavy blanket of tension that had settled over them, after they’d worked for a while. “I hear the new part of town where all the town houses and apartments are wasn’t in the tornado’s path.” He assumed that Macy had set up house in one of the new, upscale neighborhoods rather than in an old one.

“Everything’s fine. Some limbs and a few trees down, but the tornado missed us.” Macy had been chagrined to realize that, at first, she’d thought the damage in her neighborhood was terrible before she’d seen what was left of the trailer park.

Alex started to say something, but the clinic door swung open.

“Dr. Jackson, I need your help outside,” a middle-aged man shouted frantically. “My son is hurt. Bad.”

Macy hurried outside to find a woman hovering over a boy, his face white with pain, stretched out in the back of a battered pickup truck. A strong gust of wind whistled through the pines overhead, showering everyone with cold drops of water, and Macy shivered with the unexpected drenching. “We have to get him inside.”

She leaned over the side of the truck and spoke to the boy, not one of her regular patients.

Alex stepped up behind her. “Do you have a backboard?” he asked quietly, his warm breath sending shivers of delight skimming down Macy’s spine.

It surprised her that he seemed to know instinctively what she suspected. The boy could have a back injury, and any wrong move could cause the damage to be more severe. She had to think. “Yes, in the storage area.”

Alex turned to go get it, and Macy climbed into the bed of the truck to get a better look at her patient.

A quick examination showed that the backboard was probably not necessary, but it would make the boy more comfortable when they moved him inside.

The technician who usually helped with the portable X-ray machine hadn’t made it in, so she was going to have to do everything herself. At least Alex knew something about first aid. She’d enlist his help, as long as his presence wasn’t too distracting.

“I’m not going to be able to do much for him here,” Macy told the boy’s parents while she waited for Alex to return with the backboard. “But I can make him more comfortable until we can get him to the hospital in Florence.”

The man nodded, apparently relieved that something could be done. “What can I do?”

“When Alex gets back with the backboard you can help carry your son in. In the meantime, I’m going to try to call the hospital in Florence and see if they can send an ambulance out to pick him up. Otherwise, you may have to get him there yourself.”

For now, she would do what she could.

BLOCK WATCHED as the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot of the small clinic, and he glanced at Macy. She had to be dog tired. He could see in the slump of her shoulders that whatever reserve of energy she’d been operating with was long gone. Her face was drawn, and dark smudges rimmed her eyes. Her curly chestnut hair, once pinned into a tidy ball, had long since escaped from its constraints and tumbled loose and wild around her shoulders. She sagged against the doorjamb, and Block wondered if that was the only thing that kept her from collapsing.

“Come inside,” he said, taking her fine-boned hand and trying to forget the sparks he felt every time he touched her. Her fingers were cold, and her grip was weak.

She nodded, but seemed not to have the energy to speak as she followed him into the clinic.

“You’re limping,” she said, seeming to have suddenly come awake.

“No, I’m not.” Damn. He hadn’t wanted her to notice.

“Yes, you are. Come here. Let me see.”

Block blew out a long exasperated breath. The last thing he needed was to have her touching him, feeling him, setting him on fire. “It’s just an old injury that’s been slow to heal. And it always bothers me when it rains.”

“Then more reason that I should take a look at it,” she said, brooking no nonsense. “You could’ve reinjured it.”

“It healed the first time. It’ll heal again.”

“No, it won’t. Take off your pants,” she said in a whiskey-sour voice that would have seemed sultry in different circumstances.

“Excuse me?” Just listening to the innocent command in that come-hither voice had a part of his body that shouldn’t be awake standing at full attention.

“Oh, puh-lease. I can’t examine your leg if you don’t let me look at it. I’m fully familiar with male anatomy,” she said primly. “I won’t swoon.”

Yeah, but maybe he would, Block couldn’t help thinking. Finally realizing that he didn’t want to aggravate his injured knee further, he gave in. “I’ll just go in the examining room and get ready for you. Okay?”

“Fine. I’ll get the portable X-ray machine ready.” She turned and left him to undress.

Block kicked off his boots and pulled out of his wet jeans as quickly as he could. He looked around for one of those sheets they used as drapes in an exam room, found one, and wrapped it around him. He could care less if Macy looked at his leg, but he damned sure didn’t want her to see what happened to another part of his anatomy as soon as her fingers touched him.

And he’d thought the night had been long up until now….

Macy bustled back in, a professional look on her face. She arched an eyebrow as she saw the surgical scar left from when they’d put his knee back together. “When did this happen?” she asked as she pulled on latex gloves.

“Last summer. It’s why I’m here.” It was hard to think, much less talk with her gentle hands on his leg, but he forced himself to go on. “I’m supposed to interview for a job in Florence that doesn’t require jumping out of perfectly good airplanes.”

Macy probed the area around the still-red scar, and Block winced as she found a particularly tender spot.

“Does that hurt?”

“Like somebody jabbing a red-hot poker in my eye,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Sorry,” she muttered tersely. “I’ll need an X ray to be sure, but I think you’ve just overdone it. It doesn’t appear to have been reinjured.”

“Could have told you that.”

“Humor me, Alex. I am the doctor here.”

She went to the other room and returned quickly with a portable X-ray unit. He clenched his teeth tightly together while Macy situated him and took the pictures. It seemed to take forever for the films to develop, but finally, they were ready.

That done, she slapped the films on the viewing screen and looked at them carefully. “Looks like you were lucky. There’s no swelling and I see no evidence of any new injury. We’ll just bandage it and then you can go home to rest.”

Macy reached into one of the cabinets and returned with a rolled elastic bandage.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m in charge here. You can do whatever you want with it as soon as you get home,” Macy said as she expertly wrapped his leg. “I want you to stay off this as much as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting and giving her a wicked grin. “I do thank you for fixing me up.”

Macy smiled. “No, you’ve been much more help to me than I’ve been to you. What can I do to thank you?”

A dozen sexy responses whizzed through his mind, but he swallowed them all. Except for one. “You don’t have to do anything, but…” Block answered huskily as another wave of desire surged through him. He glanced at her from lowered lids. Her chestnut hair tumbled around her face, and he longed to run his fingers through those enticing tendrils. Would they feel as silky as they looked? He drew in a deep, long breath. There was a way she could pay him back. Did he dare ask?

Block swallowed. “We could call it even with one little kiss,” he said. “You know, for old times’ sake.”

Chapter Two

Macy swallowed. How could he ask her that? She didn’t want to travel down that road again, but how could she resist? Wasn’t this what she’d been thinking about since the very instant she’d seen him through the smoke and the rain at the ravaged trailer park? She swallowed again, then moistened her lips.

Why not get it over with? She had to prove to herself that she was over Alex Blocker once and for all.

“All right,” Macy said slowly. “One kiss. And then I want you to go home and get some rest.”

Alex looked down at her, a wicked half smile on his face. He seemed to be taking his time collecting what she owed him. Macy tried not to squirm under his unrelenting gaze, but she couldn’t. She moistened her lips again. Why was her mouth so dry when her hands were so damp?

Finally, she could stand it no more. She stood on tiptoe and reached for him, circling her hands around his broad shoulders, then shifting them to his muscular neck. She took in a deep breath and drew him to her.

His kiss was tender, light as the morning dew, but suddenly Macy wanted more, and she didn’t know why. She pressed against him, trying to get closer, to feel his hard chest against her. Macy wasn’t sure who had taken the lead, but did it matter? She had what she’d dreamed of for five, long years: Alex in her arms again.

Without realizing it, Macy let out a low moan. Was it of pleasure or pain? She wanted this to go on forever, but she knew it had to stop. What if a patient came in? Still, she would let it go on as long as Alex wanted.

Suddenly Alex pulled away with a wrenching groan of his own. “We can’t do this,” he said thickly. “This isn’t the right place.”

Macy stepped farther away, her face burning with embarrassment.

Alex turned his back to her as he struggled to tug on wet jeans with the drape still wrapped around his middle. He zipped his pants, then sat on the metal stool to put on his boots. The drape slid to the floor. As he struggled with his wet laces, he finally said, “I have issues to deal with. The job, you, my knee…everything. It’s late. We’re both exhausted. It isn’t the right…

“Hell, I don’t know what it is.” He shrugged, raised his hands in a helpless gesture, then turned slowly to face her.

“Thank you for seeing to my knee. If you need some help with repairs to the clinic, let me know. I’ll be at my grandmother’s.” Then he turned quickly and made his way out into the night.

Macy listened until she heard his car start, and she peeked through the window as the red taillights disappeared around the corner. She wished that would be the last of it. That he’d go away for another five years or five hundred, but she knew he wouldn’t. As long as Alex was around, neither her emotions nor her secret were safe.

He might not know it yet, but he would probably know by tomorrow. He’d be seeing a lot of her. After all, she lived next door to his grandmother. And that was going to be an enormous problem.

ALL BLOCK wanted to do was to go to bed and sleep the rest of the night away, but as he drove through the darkened streets of Lyndonville, all he could think about was Macy. Of what could have been. What should have been. And he wondered why it wasn’t.

He remembered the way she used to follow him and her brother C.J. around like a lost puppy. She’d had a crush on him then. When he was sixteen and Macy was eleven, her puppy love or hero worship had been a pain in the butt.

But now he was thirty-six, and she was thirty-one. They were way beyond the age of puppy love, and the sexual energy that seemed to sizzle between them was a sure indication that Macy felt the same attraction, whether she wanted to or not. And after that night five years ago following C.J.’s funeral, there could be no doubt that they could have something good.

He’d never understood women, and maybe he never would, but he wished he could figure Macy out. If there was one woman he could find worth getting to know, Macy was the one. Why was she being so uptight with him? There was something odd about that…considering what they’d done five years ago.

Without realizing it, Block had made his way back to his grandmother’s house. The power around town was still off, but a hurricane lamp shone with warm welcome in Gramma’s front window. He shut off the engine, locked the car, and accepted the welcome light’s invitation to come inside.

“You be quiet, now, y’ hear,” his grandmother said in a hushed whisper as Block stepped through the door.

He looked around through the dim light and spotted her sitting in an old rocker in the darkened living room. “What are you still doing up?” he said in a stage whisper.

She held a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” she said and pointed to a small bundle wrapped in a quilt and sleeping on the couch. “You’ll wake him.”

“Who’s that?”

“Hush now. You just go on to bed. I’m waiting up for his momma, then I’ll be on to bed, too.”

“All right. I’ll have to confess I’m too tired to argue.”

Gramma made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go on to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Block wondered about that last remark, but figured that Gramma had noticed him limping. Those old eyes were still sharp, and she didn’t miss much. Still, he was curious about the kid sleeping on the couch.

Why was the kid’s mother out this late at night? Especially considering the storm and the power outage.

He pulled out of his damp clothes, hung them over a chair and crawled into the too-soft bed.

Block would have thought that he’d drop right off, but sleep eluded him. As he lay there, he heard a car drive up and a door slam, then he heard the murmur of voices out in the living room. Block glanced at the clock. After four. The mother must have come to collect her child. He supposed she hadn’t been able to get back sooner because of the storm.

He heard the front door close, and he listened as his grandmother padded to bed. Whoever the woman was, she was gone, and she wasn’t his problem, anyway. The kid wasn’t his problem, either. He had to learn that he couldn’t solve every problem that crossed his path, even if he was used to being a take-charge man.

He rolled over and punched the pillow and tried again to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes he thought of Macy Jackson. And every time he saw her, his body reacted. All his adult life, he’d tried to move forward, to improve himself. And to him, coming back to Lyndonville was a step back.

But then, Macy Jackson was just another one of those things he’d always wanted and couldn’t have. That’s why he’d left her office tonight. Wasn’t any sense in prolonging the agony.

There had been so many things in Lyndonville that he’d wanted and couldn’t have. A future. A job. Respect. The town had held him back. It had killed his father because he hadn’t been able to pay for the antibiotic that could have cured him, and he hadn’t had a car to get him to one of the free clinics in Florence or Darlington.

It had nearly worn his mother down, physically and mentally as she struggled to clean other people’s houses and had so little in her own. Life in Lyndonville when he was a boy had been a constant struggle for food, for shoes, for anything that was worth anything. In his mind, the only way to move up in the world was to get out of Lyndonville, but Macy had chosen to stay.

She’d chosen to make her life here. She’d chosen to make Lyndonville better, and by doing so, she’d earned the respect of everyone. He’d seen it in the way the sheriff had treated her, and her patients, and…even he was a little bit in awe.

With that thought in mind, as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east, he drifted off to sleep.

MACY YAWNED and let herself into her own little house, a mirror twin to Willadean Blocker’s. She’d inherited it from her Aunt Earnestine, who’d raised her and her two brothers after her mother had died in childbirth and her father had gone up north to look for work and had never returned. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d expect a young doctor to be living in, but she had student loans to pay off, and the house was free. Macy let out an exhausted sigh and started for her bed.

No, she’d better set the alarm for a couple of hours. Then she could be up and off to work, and Alex would be none the wiser.

Batteries checked, clock set, she headed for bed without bothering to undress. She simply kicked off her shoes and fell onto the sheets she’d vacated when the storm had struck. It seemed like days since she’d left that bed, but it had only been hours.

So why did she find it so impossible to sleep?

She managed a wry chuckle to herself. She knew exactly why. Alex Blocker. Back in town and, worse than that, right next door.

Why had Alex decided to come back now? Why had he come back at all? She remembered how strongly he had felt about Lyndonville. How he had blamed it for killing his father and wearing his mother down. He’d always said that nothing good ever happened to him in Lyndonville. After her brother C.J. had died in a helicopter crash, Alex had sworn that the next time he came back, it would be in a pine box, like C.J.

Well, he was back. And he wasn’t in a pine box. He was very much alive.

IN SPITE OF his late night, Block woke up shortly after dawn. He would have preferred to sleep in this morning, but he figured he’d best get out there and see where he could help. He didn’t have a lot of carpentry skill, but he had a strong back and a willing mind. The hour or so he’d slept had refreshed him. If he’d slept any longer, he probably would have been a wreck, but in special ops, he had long ago learned to make do with combat naps.

He stumbled into the bathroom and cleaned up as best he could without the benefit of hot water and light and dressed in worn jeans and a sleeveless sweatshirt. He hadn’t brought much in the way of work clothes, but these were sturdy and they’d have to do. He headed for the kitchen to see what his grandmother had to eat.

He stepped into the room and stopped short. A kid, back to him at the table, a bowl of multicolored cereal in front of him, was chattering like a blue jay while Gramma looked on indulgently.

“I thought you didn’t take in day-care kids anymore, Gramma,” he said once he’d gotten over the initial surprise.

“Well, I had thought to retire,” Gramma said as she pushed herself up out of her chair. “But this one is just so special, I couldn’t resist.”

The object of discussion turned around. His eyes grew wide, seeming to take over his elflike face, comical-looking with several circles of colored cereal stuck to his milk-chocolate-colored cheek. He stared at Block.

“Good morning,” Block said to the little boy.

The kid smiled shyly and quickly turned back to his cereal, but Block saw that the kid wasn’t eating.

“This is Cory,” Gramma said, rubbing the little boy’s head affectionately. “I guess he’s goin’ to be shy this morning.”

Block’s experience with kids was limited, but he figured he’d do his best to make friends if his grandmother was going to be taking care of the boy for the duration of his week or so stay. “Nice to meet you, Cory. My name is Bl—I mean Alex.” He’d been Block to his fellow combat controllers for so long, he still had a hard time thinking of himself as Alex. He guessed he was going to have to get used to it.

Cory held up four sticky fingers. “I’m four,” he announced proudly. “Next year I getta go to the kiddie garden like a big kid, an’ I won’t hafta stay at Gramma’s like a little kid.”

“Gramma’s? Is this a nephew I don’t know about?” He looked at his grandmother for clarification.

“It’s a long story,” Gramma said, putting a plate of cold corn bread and ham on the table. “Power’s still out so I can’t cook, but here. Eat. You need all your energy for today.”

Block looked at the cold ham and congealed fat and grimaced. “Gramma, you know I love your cooking, but I think I’ll see if I can find something hot in town. Maybe some of the fast-food places are up and running. The power can’t be out all over.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d best get moving.” He headed for the front door.

He yanked the door open and stopped still.

There, on the porch, stood Macy, her hand raised to knock.

Macy gasped, then stepped back a half step. Her other hand rose involuntarily to her throat, and she let out a startled squeak. “Oh my goodness. Alex,” she managed. “I didn’t expect the door to open.”

Though he’d seen her just a few hours ago, Block was stunned by the vision in front of him. He’d almost convinced himself that he hadn’t spent most of the night with Macy Jackson, that they hadn’t kissed, that he’d just dreamed it.

Her hair was the same chestnut brown that had curled in ringlets around her face, although today she had it pulled back in some sort of prissy ball. Even as she’d tried to tame them, some of the ringlets had pulled free and framed her face. Her skin was the same blend of coffee and cream he remembered from last night, but now, in the light of day, he could see something different about her.

Her formerly skinny frame seemed riper, more lush than he remembered. Why hadn’t he noticed it last night? Of course, they’d been in the middle of a major disaster. But in the morning light he could see that Macy had matured and filled out.

“Nice to see you again, Macy,” he said, trying to sound cool and collected. “I wish we could talk, but I’m outta here. Got to go see where my services are needed with the cleanup.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine,” Macy said, an expression akin to panic in her wide, hazel eyes. Her hand was still raised as if frozen in place. Slowly, she lowered it to her side and seemed to relax. “I have to speak to your grandmother before I go to the clinic this morning. Don’t let me keep you.”

Block stepped aside and gestured inward. “She’s in the kitchen.”

Macy brushed past him leaving faint traces of soap or perfume in the air. Peach? Whatever it was, it smelled damned good.

Shaking his head and grinning, Block hustled to his SUV.

MACY CLOSED her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, though she didn’t relax until she was certain Alex had driven away. Then she pulled herself together and hurried into the kitchen.

She was still tired, but she painted a smile on her face and knocked on the door frame. Willadean had insisted that she let Cory sleep over, rather than wake him. It had saved her from having to settle him down, and she’d been able to get to sleep all the sooner. But she wouldn’t dream of leaving for the clinic without saying goodbye, so here she was.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said, with false cheer. She hurried to Cory sitting at the table and kissed him on the top of his dark head. “I just wanted to check in with my two favorite people before I headed off to the clinic this morning.”

“Did you see that great big man?” Cory asked, reaching up to hug Macy with sticky hands.