Perfectly Matched

Her stalker’s name was Dom. Or at least, that’s what he’d called himself. He’d said he touched her, and she hadn’t known.

The memory of someone brushing her shoulder and touching her arm before a shoot still haunted her. Back then Shay hadn’t suspected anything untoward, not until she’d received that phone call—I’m closer than you think. I can touch you whenever I want. In fact, I already have, lots of times. Almost three years later and she still hadn’t rid herself of the panic. That’s what had ruined her relationship with Eric. What man wanted to be with someone who froze like a nervous Nellie whenever he embraced her?

Eric had taught Shay that she could never have a normal relationship with a man. The shame, the embarrassment and, most of all, the longing to love haunted her still.

“Shay?”

Shay yelped as she jerked back to awareness. An involuntary rush of fear clutched her throat until she realized Nick stood outside her door.

“Uh, can I come in?” He rattled the handle, studying her with a quizzical look.

“Yes. Of course. Sure. Come on in.” She flushed as she unlatched the two locks and pushed open the door. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”

He frowned when she flicked both locks back into place once he was inside.

“You’re expecting pecan robbers or something?” he joked. “Not that you shouldn’t take precautions,” he added when she frowned at him. His gaze followed her motions as she checked and rechecked the two very solid locks.

“Can’t be too careful.” Embarrassed that he’d noticed her obsessive security measures, Shay regrouped, led the way into her living room and waved a hand. “Have a seat, Nick. Iced tea or coffee?”

“Whatever you have is fine. Um—” Nick eyed the furniture and remained standing.

Shay suddenly realized all the seats were covered with skeins of wool she’d sorted earlier. “Oh. Sorry.”

He remained silent while she scooped her yarn, needles and a pattern book from the biggest, roomiest chair. Then he said, “That looks complicated.”

“It’s going to be a blanket for Jaclyn’s baby. I just hope I can get it finished before she delivers.” Shay set the project in a woven basket on the floor next to the chair facing her wall of windows. “There. Now you can sit down.”

“Why did you pick something so difficult to make?” he asked.

“If it was easy, it wouldn’t be much of a gift,” she said with a quick smile. “I want my gift for this baby to be as special as Jaclyn is to me. I’ll be right back.”

When she returned with a tray that had two drinks and a dish of tortilla chips and salsa, he said, “You weren’t kidding about your view, were you? The orchards don’t look bad from here.”

“I hired someone to prune things a bit.” She sat down, aware of his wide-eyed scrutiny of her home.

“Maybe you should hire the same guy to cut all that tall grass in your backyard,” Nick suggested. “The rains in January spurred a lot of growth, but now it’s so dry that if a wildfire starts, that grass will feed it like gas. Your house could be in jeopardy.”

“I’ll get it done,” she promised, and added “soon” when he kept staring at her.

“Good.” Nick’s bemused gaze took in the splashes of color on the walls, the floors and the furniture. “This sure isn’t what I expected your place would look like.”

“What did you expect? Steel and glass and leather? Glitz and glamour?” Shay burst out laughing at his nod. “But, Nick, that’s not me.”

“Are you kidding?” He scowled. “How is glitz and glamour not you?”

“That’s what I did,” she said gently. “That’s how I made my living.” She pointed to the wall opposite them. “That’s the real me.”

“You made this?” Nick got up to examine an intricately stitched design of a little girl paddling at the seashore. It could have been Shay once, a long time ago. “It’s very nice. But—”

“Being a model only looks glamorous, Nick. There’s actually a lot of downtime, waiting for the photographer or the makeup person or hairstylist, and more endless hours in airports. Dad encouraged me to do handwork to pass the time. When I finished something, I’d put it away in a box he gave me.” She was not going to call it a hope chest. “That’s it there.”

Nick knelt in front of the intricately decorated trunk. “It’s lovely.”

“I kept putting things in there because I knew one day I’d have my own place, a place I could make into my home.” She waved a hand. “Most of what you see here is stuff I’ve made.”

Nick rose, examined cushions, hangings and the little stool she’d re-covered with a tapestry she told him she’d found in Italy.

“Did you make this, too?” he asked, indicating a canvas dotted with handprints that took up the entire wall behind the dining table.

“No. That was a gift from the kids I worked with before I came here.” As always, the colorful finger-painted mural made her smile. “I have the other half of it hanging in my office.” Shay waited for him to sit down again, sipping her drink as she puzzled over how to broach the subject she’d been musing on since she’d met with Maggie’s medical team earlier. “Catch me up on your world, Nick.”

“Not much to tell since we talked after Maggie’s accident.” He returned to his seat and took a drink before he spoke, his voice flat and emotionless. “Tore my shoulder, had surgery, gave up pro ball.”

“And now?” she prodded. “I know some athletes go into broadcasting. Is that what you’ll do?”

“No. I’m lousy at that. I get too caught up in the game and forget to make the comments they want. The only thing I know is playing football.” Nick’s face tightened into tense lines. His brown eyes deepened to that dark shade that told her he was brooding over something.

“You know a lot more than football, Nick.” Shay could see him mentally reject that but she let it hang, waiting.

“It seems I don’t know much that makes me employable. Anyway, I have six months’ leave and then I’ll go back to the team. They’ve offered me a job with the coaching staff.” Nick sounded—discouraged?

“Six months is lots of time,” she told him optimistically. “I’m sure you’ll be all healed up by then.”

“Oh, I’m healthy now. I asked for the six months so I could help Mom with Maggie, but I have to go back then for sure.” His response sounded less than thrilled.

“Well, a job is good. Isn’t it?” Shay added when he got lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah, a job is very good. Only I don’t like the thought of leaving Mom here, alone, to manage with Maggie,” Nick admitted. “It’s a lot for her to take on a kid Maggie’s age. Mom did so much for us, raising all of us on her own. She deserves to have some time for herself.”

“Knowing your mother’s great big heart, I seriously doubt she feels that way.” Shay sipped her tea and made a mental note to talk to Mrs. Green about her arthritis. But first she had to deal with the past. “I need to say something to you, Nick.”

“Go ahead.” He leaned back and waited.

“I—uh, never did thank you properly for your help in New York.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to continue, feeling nauseous. “What you did for me—well, it was more than I ever expected. I just wanted to make sure you know how much I appreciate it.”

“What are friends for, if not to chase away stalkers?” Nick joked. When she didn’t smile, his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

“No. Why?” Panic reached out and clamped its hand around her throat, taking away her breath. Her fingers involuntarily pinched the fabric of her capris. “Have you heard something?”

“Me?” Nick shook his head, his face confused as he studied her. “No.”

“Oh. Good.” She knew she’d just made a fool of herself with her reaction, but she still struggled with a sense of dread. “I—I never heard from him again after you read him the riot act.”

“That’s great.” Nick kept looking at her. “Isn’t it?”

Shay offered an unconvincing nod, still unable to shake her memories of those horrible days.

When the police couldn’t help, she’d fought to hold her world together on her own. And she’d been losing that war, until Nick arrived. She’d been so relieved to see a friend that day that she’d dumped the whole sorry tale on his broad shoulders. Being the good guy he was, Nick had insisted on knowing the details. Then he’d heard Dom’s voice, demeaning, threatening and mocking her.

Shay couldn’t believe it when Nick told Dom he’d taped the conversation and threatened police action and reprisals from what Nick claimed were legions of Shay’s friends. It worked—she’d never heard from the stalker again—but she’d never been able to shed the panic from those months of persecution. She always felt Dom was out there, lurking, waiting for her weakest moment to appear again.

“Did you ever figure out why this guy focused on you?”

“No. The first couple of times he emailed me through my fan page, he was very nice. He complimented me on my latest cover, said he’d seen me on a talk show, asked if I might throw my support behind a pet hospital, that kind of thing. He was very friendly.” Shivers speed-walked up her spine. “But by the time you came to New York, he’d become very aggressive. He told me he’d touched me without my realizing it. I didn’t believe him, but then he gave details and I knew he’d been near. Too near.”

“Nobody ever remembered seeing him?”

“No, and believe me, I questioned everyone, though I never actually told anyone what was going on. Later I learned some of the other models had faced the same thing, so they would have understood how worried I was, but...” She shrugged. “At the time I was too scared and embarrassed to talk about it.”

“Maybe he was someone you worked with.” Nick’s lips tightened into a grim line.

“I thought of that. But I never had any concrete proof to give police, no personal details. After the fourth or fifth call, I think they stopped believing me. And he knew it.”

“Hey, relax now. You’re safe here,” Nick reminded her.

“Yes.” Shay inhaled to regain control. “It’s just...I have no idea how he found my number or knew my new address. I changed phones and moved, but that only seemed to aggravate him. Police traced the calls, but they always led to a dead end. Dom was very careful. When he did call—well, you heard him. He’d taunt me with what he’d do when we were alone—” She gulped and forced her breathing to slow. “Sorry. I still struggle a bit with his—you know.”

“Abuse.” Nick’s cold, hard word made her flinch.

“Well, yes.” She exhaled. “I tried a hundred different things. I ignored him. I monitored every move I made to see if I could figure out who he was. I became suspicious of everyone. But I was helpless. I had no idea how to—” Shay paused. It sounded weak and pathetic to say escape, as if she’d been a prisoner. Yet that was exactly what she’d felt like.

“Shay, that kind of guy preys on people through fear. But he’s gone. You can forget about him now.” He studied her.

“I know. I will be fine,” Shay said, determined to make it so.

When she thought about how it all began, she felt foolish. Too well she recalled how the innocent-seeming online friendship had changed into something menacing after Dom had found out she’d given the flowers he sent her to someone else. That’s when she’d started to feel uncomfortable. But she didn’t think of contacting the police until odd messages were left on her voice mail. Crazy, untraceable phone calls showed up on her cell when she went to lunch with her friends or took a break at work. He always seemed to know where she was. But worst of all were his increasingly hateful comments. They seemed to hint that violence could explode if she said or did something to provoke him, and that had scared her into a shivering mass of fear.

Until Nick, her rescuer, arrived.

But even after, even when she’d left New York and modeling, it had taken months of intense therapy to attain an occasional night of uninterrupted sleep, free of his voice, his taunts that he would find her when she least expected it. Those words haunted her, so much so that they’d ruined her relationship with Eric, the man she thought she loved. She could barely breathe when his arms closed around her—all she wanted was to run from him. Finally her memories had pushed Eric away and she’d lost what she wanted most—love.

Still Shay was determined she would vanquish Dom and overcome the terror that he’d planted in her brain.

Please, God?

Nick must have read the tumult of emotions in her eyes. He leaned forward, his dark eyes almost hidden beneath his jutting brow, and spoke slowly but with unshakeable resolve.

“Shay, you cannot spend the rest of your life worrying about whether or not this crazy person will come back.”

“I know.” She inhaled. “I’m here in Hope to start over. And I’m really trying. It’s just—I can’t seem to forget the ugly things he said.”

“You will.”

“Can you imagine if anyone besides you had overheard his words to me?” Her cheeks burned. “I would have felt so ashamed. The things he said—” She couldn’t go there. Not with Nick watching her. “I’m ashamed that I couldn’t stop him on my own.”

“You did the best you could, Shay.”

“Did I?” She shook her head. “I wonder about that now.”

“Why do you doubt yourself?” Nick demanded.

“It would have been better if I’d told more people about him.” Keeping her secret had weighed heavily. Even Eric hadn’t known until that last, horrible date, and by then he didn’t want any explanations—he wanted a girlfriend who showed her love, not some shrinking violet afraid to let him even kiss her cheek. But tonight, with her friend Nick, it felt good to talk about what she’d kept hidden for so long. “But I was worried that stories would leak out. I had sponsors and a lot of media attention then.”

“I remember you came out in support of that kids’ charity around that time, too,” Nick said. His brown eyes gleamed. “Just getting to share a cup of coffee with you made me feel like I’d won a triathlon.”

“Silly.” She smiled at him but felt compelled to keep explaining. “My agent was afraid that if I went public, it might have brought more weirdos out of the woodwork.”

“Too bad he didn’t try to stop the jerk.” Nick’s grim face expressed his opinion.

“My agent was a she,” Shay protested mildly, warmed by his caring. “And she’s the one who first insisted I call the police. That didn’t help, so I did the only thing I could think to do and pretended everything was all right.” She made a face. “But eventually I couldn’t pretend well enough. I knew Dad had always wanted me to reach the top but he was gone and I was scared and lonely so I decided it was time to move on, to fulfill my promise to join Jessica’s clinic. And now here I am.” She was not going to tell Nick about her crippling panic attacks—he didn’t need to know everything.

“I’m glad you’re here.” His brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

“Thanks.” Her heart gave a bump at his kindness. “Anyway, that brings me to the reason I asked you to come tonight.”

“Maggie. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about her, too. You go first.”

“Okay. Well, I met with her doctors this morning. They asked me to start on her therapy immediately.” Shay wasn’t sure how well Nick understood what Maggie’s future would entail so she proceeded cautiously. “Has anyone said anything to you about her progress?”

“The doctor today said Maggie isn’t doing as well as he’d hoped, but I don’t know exactly what that means.”

“Maggie’s internal injuries have healed very well, according to the reports,” Shay began. “Though her leg muscles were badly damaged when she was crushed inside the car, the surgery appears to have been successful. Yet Maggie hasn’t regained her strength.” Shay studied his face. “You must have noticed that.”

“She can’t bear her own weight yet, if that’s what you mean.”

“She should be able to do that by now, Nick. In fact, Maggie should be walking.” Shay reached out and touched his fingers, hoping that would ease what she was about to say. But she had to draw back or risk exposing her anxiety. “The fact that she can’t even stand is a bad sign. It means she’s losing her mobility much faster than anyone thought.”

“My medical knowledge wouldn’t fill a teaspoon, Shay. Talk to me plainly and bluntly,” he demanded.

“Unless Maggie regains her mobility soon, there’s a strong possibility she will never walk normally again.” Shay watched horror fill his face.

“But she does exercises,” Nick protested.

“Your mom does them with her?” Shay waited for his nod. “All the time?”

Nick’s face altered.

“I’m guessing she skips them sometimes because Maggie says they hurt too much.” From the look on his face Shay knew she was right. “Your mom probably hasn’t felt able to make the long, twice-weekly drives to Las Cruces for therapy either.”

“No. But they’re just little leg lifts and things. It’s no big deal,” Nick argued.

“You’re an athlete, Nick. You know how quickly the body loses muscle strength if it’s not regularly used.” Shay tried to make him understand. “You probably still follow a postsurgical therapy program to keep your shoulder from tightening up. Right?”

“Yes.” He flexed his arm as if she’d reminded him.

“It’s the same for Maggie. In the months she was in traction and healing from her internal injuries, there was little to be done except let her heal. Now she’s done that.”

“The doctor said that today,” he admitted.

“She should be moving by now. Yet on the swing today, you saw that she could barely point her toes. That’s not good.” Shay wasn’t finished, but Nick’s sudden shifting in his chair made her wonder if he’d hear all she had to say?

“I don’t mean to, but I think I hurt her when I lift her,” Nick confessed, his guilt-filled stare lifting to meet her gaze.

Shay nodded. “But that’s primarily because she has no strength to lift herself and ease the strain. She’s barely using her leg muscles at all from what I saw.” This was the hardest part, getting people to see what was only visible to the trained eye. “Maggie’s become too comfortable with being carried. She makes no demands of her body. My hunch is that no one’s challenged her to do more.”

Nick sat still, assimilating her words. Then he looked up.

Sun-streaked wisps of hair had drifted onto his broad forehead, and in that moment he looked very much like the determined teenage boy who’d once proclaimed he would never be anything like the father who had abandoned him.

“I refuse to accept that my sister’s child will never walk again if it’s even remotely possible that she can,” he said, his voice tight with control. “So what do we do?”

“We get Maggie moving, Nick,” Shay said with a grin, delighted by his response. “It won’t be easy and it won’t be fun, but it will work if we don’t give up. Are you up for it?”

“Me?” He gaped at her, eyes wide with surprise. “But my mother—”

“Your mother can’t do this, Nick. She’s too close to Maggie and in too much pain herself. I saw her at the grocery store. Her hands must be killing her.”

“Uh—” Nick gulped as Shay held his gaze and laid out the blunt truth.

“If you commit to overseeing Maggie’s treatment, this will be totally on you. Are you sure you have what it takes to get it done?”

“Of course I do,” he growled, lips drawn tight.

“You won’t be Maggie’s favorite uncle anymore, Nick. In fact, she might even hate you for putting her through the pain.”

Nick’s eyes darkened to almost black. “You’re saying...?”

“Maybe you should think about finding someone else to do this?” Shay asked, hoping that he wouldn’t.

“Like who?” he demanded. “My sisters? Cara’s got her hands full with twins. Lara travels constantly for her job. And let’s just say Simone has enough trouble that I have no intention of adding to it. There is nobody else, Shay.” Nick studied her, old friend to old friend. “To clarify, you’re saying that if Maggie follows a regimen you cook up, she will be able to walk?”

“I’m ninety percent sure she could regain all of her mobility.”

“Ninety percent?” Nick frowned. “Not completely sure then?”

“No.” Shay had to tell him the total truth. “But I am one hundred percent sure that if things continue as they have been, your niece will be confined to a wheelchair in one year. Maybe less.”

Nick fell back into his chair as if he’d been slapped. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” Shay nodded. The bald truth. He deserved it. So did Maggie. “Left unused, within the year the ligaments will lose their pliability, her leg muscles will degenerate, and then there will no longer be an opportunity for Maggie to regain her mobility.”

Nick spent several long moments in silent contemplation. When he finally lifted his head, Shay’s heart ached for the sadness clouding his beautiful eyes. He cleared his throat, then spoke, his voice ragged.

“How long will it take?”

“I don’t know. Four months, maybe six. Maybe longer.” She shrugged. “After I do more tests, I’ll have a better idea, but the end result is going to depend on whether or not we can get Maggie motivated.”

“I see.” He nodded, his head drooped low.

“Think long and hard before you commit to this, Nick,” Shay told him. “Maggie needs someone who will be there day after day, holding her accountable. She must have a coach who won’t give up, no matter what, and is committed for as long as it takes.”

He lifted his head. His eyes, deep-set beneath his broad, tanned forehead, silently begged her to understand his quandary.

“I only have six months here in Hope. Then I start my new job in Seattle. I can’t stay longer than that, Shay. I mean, I want to but—” He clamped his lips together.

Shay said nothing, allowing him the space to deal with all he’d just learned.

“I can’t just leave Maggie the way she is, knowing she’ll never walk again.” Nick’s tortured tone stabbed her aching heart. “Her mom would hate that. You know how active Georgia was.”

Shay did know. Nick’s sister Georgia had been her coach when she’d decided to run a marathon in her senior year. No one could have pushed her harder than Georgia.

“But Georgia isn’t here anymore, Nick,” she said quietly. “You are. You and I.”

She hated that she’d added more to his already topsy-turvy world. It had only been a short time ago that Nick had found out his career was over. Then he’d lost his sister and his niece had been orphaned. His whole world was in flux.

“If it’s impossible for you, you might be able to hire a personal trainer or someone else to be Maggie’s helper,” she added, offering him a way out.

“Nobody with those qualifications stays in a little place like Hope,” he said, his voice edged with frustration. “So they’d leave and we’d be back in the same situation. Maggie would suffer.” He shook his head. “Any other ideas?”

“No. I’m sorry. All I can tell you is that I don’t want to wait on this. I want to get Maggie started on a strengthening routine as soon as possible. Tomorrow would be good.” Shay held her breath, waiting for his response.

After a long pause he asked, “What time tomorrow?”

“Eight in the morning. Till noon.”

“I see.” He rose wearily. “I’ve got to think about this. About what it will mean,” he added. “And I have to discuss it with Mom. She’ll make the final decision.”

“Of course.” Shay stood, too. As she looked up at Nick, she realized that she’d always liked that he stood six feet two inches, just three inches taller than her, tall enough that at the prom she’d been able to lay her head on his shoulder. She wished she could do that now.

“I never finished my college degree, you know. I don’t have anything else to fall back on but this job the team offered.” Nick’s eyes grew muddy with confusion. “Even so, my first priority is always to my family.”

“Of course.” Anyone who knew Nick knew that about him. “Maybe the team would grant you an extension?”

“They already have—that’s why I’m here. But if I’m not back on the appointed day, I have no job.” He shook his head. “It probably sounds pretentious, but I have to capitalize on my fame as the winningest quarterback in history while it’s still fresh in everyone’s mind. I’m only good for endorsements till the next star comes along. If I let this job go—” He left it hanging. After a moment Nick regrouped and straightened his shoulders. “I’ll have Maggie at the clinic tomorrow morning at eight. And I’ll have a decision for you then, too.”