One Night in Weaver... Page 5

  Adam shook his head. “I tried showing it to her because Mr. Clay said she was in charge of everything with McGregor except security, but she didn’t want to see it. Says her only interest is in her patient. Not the comings and goings of his keepers, since we never interact with the guy.”

  The only people who did interact with McGregor, according to Adam, were Hayley and, even less frequently, Tristan. Tristan’s meetings with McGregor were recorded. Audio and video.

  Hayley’s, however, were not. She’d evidently dismissed the warnings that being observed during her sessions was for her own safety and insisted that her patient’s privacy be honored. Her only concession had been to carry a panic button whenever she was alone with McGregor.

  “Well.” Seth scrawled the exit time in the log next to his equally indecipherable signature. “Enjoy the grub.” He’d brought Adam dinner from one of the diners in town.

  “Already am,” Adam said around a bite of his roast beef sandwich.

  Seth left the safe house and drove his truck well out of sight before pulling to the side of the road. He’d planned to make his usual quick stop at the place to check on things and be home at his apartment in plenty of time before Hayley came. But witnessing McGregor’s temper tantrum had waylaid him. And even before he’d heard her voice on the phone, he’d known that Hayley would be canceling on him.

  His conscience didn’t particularly bother him.

  Just because he’d considered the possibility of gaining inside information from her about what McGregor revealed during their private sessions didn’t mean Seth was acting on it. She had limited knowledge of those involved with Hollins-Winword and there was no reason for her to know he was anything other than what she believed him to be: a lowly Cee-Vid security guard.

  So he sat there off in the distance on the side of the road and waited until her car arrived. She parked in the driveway of the ordinary-looking ranch-style house situated in the middle of a half-dozen other ordinary-looking houses, got out, walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the front door. A few seconds later, the woman who lived in the house with her real-life husband opened the door as if greeting a friend, and Hayley disappeared inside.

  In his mind, Seth followed her movements. Through the living room filled with ordinary furniture. Probably greeting the husband, where he’d be parked on his recliner, watching sports on television after having spent his day in the drugstore where he was the pharmacist. Through the kitchen, which was usually filled with the warm scent of something the pharmacist’s stay-at-home wife was baking, and down the stairs to the basement. Then through a steel security door as thick as Seth’s thigh and down another flight to the very depths below the house where she’d be greeted by a guard just like Adam who didn’t hide the fact that he was armed the way the couple upstairs did.

  And even though Hayley had the trust of Tristan Clay, for security purposes she would still have to surrender that sleek briefcase she carried and be wanded and patted down before she’d be allowed into the heavily locked room with her patient, the panic button tucked into her pocket.

  The process would take a minimum of five minutes if she didn’t stop to shoot the breeze with anyone along the way.

  Seth sat there slouched in his truck seat watching the house. Porch lights came on up and down the street as darkness fell and his butt turned numb.

  And finally, a little more than three hours later, the front door of the safe house opened again and Hayley appeared on the porch. Accompanied by the lady of the house, she stood there for a moment, smiling and holding a foil-wrapped package in her hand, before returning to her car with a casual wave of her hand.

  She definitely had the routine down. Anyone taking the time to watch would have seen only one friend stopping to visit another.

  Exhaling, and not particularly anxious to examine the reasons why he was relieved she was out of there, Seth straightened in his seat, started up his ancient truck and drove home to the microwave in his apartment.

  * * *

  “You’ve got a visitor.”

  Hayley looked up from her case notes to see her office manager, Gretchen, standing in the doorway. “Who?”

  Gretchen grinned and her eyebrows practically wiggled. “A man.”

  “Nearly half my practice is made up of men,” Hayley replied. But she closed the file folder, slid it into her desk drawer and stood up. She had an hour before her next appointment, which Gretchen—who did her office scheduling—knew very well. So Hayley walked with her to the outer reception area.

  The sight of Seth standing there made her breath catch in her chest. She was vaguely aware of Gretchen retreating to her desk behind the reception counter. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” He was dressed in another black work T-shirt and blue jeans. Common clothes, yet the man wearing them didn’t seem common at all.

  “Even I get a lunch break.” He held up a large brown paper bag. “Think the doctor does, too.” He smiled faintly. “At least that’s what I heard from a reliable source.”

  Hayley looked toward Gretchen. Her office manager was looking down, but she caught the satisfied smile on her face. It seemed Gretchen shared Vivian’s opinion that Hayley needed a man.

  She looked back at Seth and nodded toward the brown bag. “And that’s lunch, I’m assuming. You’re obviously well-prepared.”

  His smile was lazy. “I try to be. Dinner didn’t work out last night, but today’s a new day. What do you say?” He wagged the bag slightly. “Sandwiches are still warm from Ruby’s. Sun’s shining and that new park is only five minutes away.”

  She mockingly narrowed her eyes. “You’re trying to tempt me, aren’t you?”

  “Is it working?”

  “I feel that if I admit it is, you’ll take advantage of that.”

  “Scout’s honor, I do have taking advantage in mind.”

  Her breath caught a little all over again. Because he was tempting her. Even more, he was charming her. Yes, she was attracted to him. But she’d never expected the oddly sweet smile lighting his bright blue eyes. And for once, she forgot all about being nervous around him. “Were you ever a Boy Scout?”

  “No ma’am. I was an army ranger. Surrender is not a Ranger word.” He wagged the bag again. “Turkey pastrami on rye. Won’t stay warm forever.”

  Her mouth watered and she wasn’t entirely certain whether it was because of the promise of one of her favorite sandwiches from Ruby’s, or because of Seth. “I suppose Gretchen told you I like turkey pastrami.”

  “I’ve seen you buy it at Shop-World.” He shook his head dolefully. “Don’t figure it can hold a candle to the real deal, but I’ve never seen you buy beef.”

  “You’ve noticed what I buy at the grocery store?” Hadn’t she done the same where he was concerned?

  “I’m an observant guy.”

  “Stop yammering, Dr. Templeton. If you don’t go have lunch with him, I will,” Gretchen warned. “And since my oldest boy is about his age, I’m sure your young man would be thrilled.”

  Seth just smiled slightly and unfolded the top of the brown bag so that the scent inside escaped even more.

  Hayley tossed up her hands as if she hadn’t decided she would go with him the very moment he suggested it. “I have to be back here by two.”

  He folded up the top of the bag again. “That’s a mission I can handle. Promise.”

  She chewed back the giddy smile that kept wanting to break free. “Let me just get my purse.” She turned, hurried back to her office and grabbed her briefcase. She glanced at the decorative mirror on her office wall and barely stopped herself from fussing with her appearance.

  She’d passed out pretty much at his feet the night she’d gone home with him. It was safe to say he’d seen her at her worst, and she was dressed the same way she always was when she came to the office. Pony
tail. Suit.

  Still, she pinched the apples of her cheeks to rosy them up before she returned to the reception area. When she got there, he had his elbows propped on the high counter and was talking with Gretchen. Hayley barely had enough time to drag her eyes away from the perfect fit of denim over his perfect rear when he straightened and turned toward her.

  And judging by the amusement in his eyes, she wasn’t sure she’d been fast enough.

  “Ready?”

  She swallowed, trying not to examine too closely the feelings swirling around inside her. Because sometimes a woman had to follow her instincts and just go with the moment.

  “I’m ready,” she answered. Was she ever.

  Chapter Four

  The name of the new park was, indeed, Willow Park. Obviously in honor of the stand of young willow trees planted on one side. There were also a couple stands of cottonwoods and a lot of grass that hadn’t yet filled in.

  “You’re right when you said we wouldn’t run into anyone here,” Hayley observed as Seth opened her door after parking in the small parking lot and walking around the car. “There isn’t another vehicle here.”

  “Give it time.” He took the bag, which she’d held on her lap during the short drive, and gestured at the buildings under construction across the street. She could hear an occasional whir of power tools and hammers. “When those houses are finished and people start moving in, the place’ll probably be crawling with kids.”

  She smiled and followed him to the winding sidewalk that led from the parking lot, past the sandy playground, to one of the picnic tables positioned under the ramada. The weather was still cool and she was glad for her suit jacket against the breeze that was strong enough to make the swing set chains jangle musically. “Judging by your tone, I’m guessing you don’t have any. Kids, that is.”

  “No. No kids. No exes down in Texas.” He glanced at her and gestured for her to sit. “Or anywhere else for that matter. I’d pull out the bench for you but it’s attached to the table.”

  She couldn’t lift her foot over the bench to sit without hitching her skirt up her thighs, so she sat first and then rotated, swinging both her legs over the bench till she was facing the table. Then she felt like a ninny when she caught his grin as he took the bench across from her. “What?”

  “Never appreciated quite this much what a straight skirt did for a pretty girl.” He set the bag on the table between them.

  Warmth filled her cheeks, which needed no help from pinching this time. She quickly pulled open the paper sack to extract the contents. Not only were there two wrapped sandwiches that were still slightly warm, but also an insulated container of coleslaw, two bottles of water, two brownies and a ridiculous quantity of paper napkins.

  She held them up in her hand. “Emptied the dispenser, did you?”

  “I’ve seen how dangerous you are when it comes to water.”

  “Don’t remind me.” She unfolded one of the napkins and set the sandwiched marked “TP” on it. “That night at Colbys was definitely not one of my finer moments.” She didn’t particularly want to talk about it, either, but pretending it hadn’t happened was pointless. “Is that where you’re from? Texas?”

  He didn’t bother using a napkin as a placemat the way she did. Just unfolded the foil-backed paper from his sandwich and nodded before taking a healthy bite.

  “Texas is a big state.” She unwrapped her own sandwich, savoring the scent that greeted her. “Whereabouts?”

  He swallowed and opened one of the water bottles. “Little bit outside Dallas.”

  “Your parents still there?”

  “No.” The answer was short and didn’t invite further queries. “You’re not from Weaver.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The night you went home with me, you kept saying you were supposed to be home in Braden.”

  Ouch. “I don’t remember that. Did, uh, did I say anything else?” Any other little nuggets that would prove humiliating, right along with the way she’d passed out? She took a bite of her sandwich to make sure she didn’t actually voice that thought out loud.

  “Just that you hadn’t had sex in a long time.”

  She nearly choked on her food.

  He uncapped the second water bottle and held it out to her, his eyes full of laughter. She looked past him at the empty playground equipment, the swings swaying softly, and drank down a third of the bottle before setting it down next to her sandwich. “How long have you been out of the army?”

  “Pretty quick change of subject there.”

  “I think it’s best,” she managed to say.

  “Five years.”

  She grimaced. “I told you that, too?”

  “Since I left the rangers. But I guess I don’t have to ask you just how long is a long time.”

  Mortified, she tried not to squirm. “And now you can understand why that is. I love Ruby’s coleslaw.” She grabbed the container that had been weighing down the spare napkins. Several napkins immediately flew off the table with the breeze.

  He chuckled and lifted his hand. “Relax. I’ll get ’em. Don’t want your friend from the sheriff’s department writing us up for littering.”

  While he retrieved the fluttering paper squares, she tucked the rest of the napkins safely back inside the bag and silently told herself to get a grip. Then she realized that there was only one plastic fork.

  She was fitting the lid back on the container when Seth returned. “Thought you loved Ruby’s coleslaw,” he said.

  She lifted the lone fork. “Only one of these in the bag.”

  He sat back down and gave her a look. “Then use it,” he drawled as if it were obvious.

  Feeling as if she’d already embarrassed herself enough, she silently took the round tub and peeled back the lid again. The coleslaw was as delicious as ever, but her enthusiasm for it had definitely dwindled and after several bites, she set the fork back down.

  He was having no such problems with his appetite, though, and was working his way steadily through his sandwich. She could see that it was crammed with thin slices of roast beef and not much else, unlike her sandwich that had lettuce, tomatoes and peppers in addition to the turkey pastrami. “Texas is even more cattle country than Wyoming, I guess.”

  “We do like our beef. But you don’t seem to touch it at all. Don’t meet many folks around here who share your tastes.”

  She lifted her shoulder. “My father blames it on my mother. Says I inherited it from her. She didn’t eat meat at all. She was from Cheyenne and was doing a college tour in Pennsylvania when they met. They married a week later.”

  “Fast work.”

  “Whirlwind romance. Instead of becoming an engineering student, she became an army wife.”

  “Which made you an army brat.”

  “Not for long. Dad stayed in only until I was three. Archer—my older brother—and I were both born in St. Robert, Missouri.”

  “Your dad was posted at Fort Leonard Wood?”

  She nodded. “Have you been there?”

  “Few times.” He’d finished his sandwich, so he balled up the wrapper and stuck it in the bag before reaching across the table for the coleslaw and fork. “What happened when you were three?”

  She raised her eyebrows, trying not to think anything of the way he scooped up a forkful of the shredded cabbage and placed his lips around the same fork she had. “Who says anything happened?”

  “Your face.”

  She shook herself a little. The way she kept getting physically distracted by him was unnerving in the extreme. It was one thing when she was three sheets to the wind. Another when she was sitting in a park with nothing inebriating in her system at all except him. “My mother died that year.”

  He slowly lowered the fork, a f
rown pulling his dark brows together. “That’s rough.”

  “Even when you are only three.” She smiled sadly. “Except through pictures, I can’t really remember her face. But I can still recall the way she’d read me stories at night before bed. The way she smelled when she hugged me.” She exhaled. “Anyway, with two young children and no family of his own in the area—none he wanted to see, anyway,” she amended, thinking of Vivian, “he decided to take us to Cheyenne.”

  “Where your mother had kin.”

  “Right. Plus my uncle had already moved to Braden by then. He’s still a pediatrician there.” And just as unhappy now as her father was when it came to Vivian’s continued presence in Wyoming.

  “So why the hop from Cheyenne to Braden for your dad?”

  She smiled. “That would be Meredith. My stepmother. She’s from Braden. They got married when I was six.”

  “Three years. That’s pretty quick.”

  “But not as quick as with my mother. Meredith’s wonderful, though. She’s my mom in every way that matters.” Nor did she treat Hayley as if she’d done the unforgiveable by taking in Vivian. Meredith kept trying on her end to soften Hayley’s father’s rigid stance.

  “They have any more kids?”

  “Triplet girls.” Hayley grinned at the thought of her three half sisters. “They’re identical but they couldn’t be more different in personality if they tried. And before marrying my dad, Mom had already had Rosalind. So there are actually six of us kids.”

  “One big, happy family.”

  “Happy is a relative term,” she replied. “Archer and Rosalind have always been at odds. Becoming adults hasn’t really changed that. But ultimately, among all of us, ‘yours-mine-and-ours—’” she air-quoted the phrase “—we’re pretty close.” Her siblings couldn’t care less that Vivian had come to town. Even though Hayley’s parents and aunt and uncle had refused to attend Hayley’s Christmas Eve get-together, her brother and the triplets had come and had gone away with their own impressions, content to leave the family dissension in Hayley’s lap. “What about you? Any brothers and sisters?”