Among the Tulips (3 page)

Wearily, he shook his head. He couldn't help but worry about Annie Hooper.

And things did happen to innocent people—look at her and the wreck.

Victor always tried to be prepared and ready for whatever might come. It was a good thing in his life—to make sure he was prepared. Not being prepared could lead to national embarrassments.

He hadn't been prepared for Annie, however.

He was surprised that she didn't speak a single word of Dutch or German.

She had rattled him, that was for sure. He'd actually been surprised by her sweet innocent smile. He'd smiled when she'd rubbed up against his hand. Her skin was soft and smooth and smelled of something sweet. He'd never smelled that scent before but it drifted up from her as she'd moved her head. Perhaps a shampoo or perfume. And then she'd commented on his chin. Some women were put off by the dimple, but she seemed to like it, though he wasn't sure about her feelings regarding the light bit of beard he'd worn for his last movie. His long hair and beard were leftovers, and he hadn't cut them yet.

Of course, the drugs were affecting Annie. She'd been slurring every word she spoke.

If he had his way, he would prefer her to be in a different hospital. But since he was there, he would make sure she was treated right.

He frowned. “She is going to be okay?” he asked the attendant.

The attendant shrugged. “She probably has a fractured tibia or fibula and possibly a concussion. Normally we wouldn't give meds so strong, but she's a tourist and pretty unsettled. Americans,” the technician said disrespectfully and then winced. “Except for you, Mr. Rivers. Your mother was from Holland so you're not really American, exactly.”

Victor thought that attitude was typical and sighed. “It's not important.”

As if to make up for his lapse, the attendant sat up straighter and examined the patient more closely. “She could have internal injuries. The doctor will let you know.”

They pulled into the entrance to the hospital.

The technician leaned forward and wiped away the blood that was running along Annie's hairline.

Victor didn't care too much for real blood.

Then he realized his own hands had her blood on them, in quite another sense.

He hoped she wasn't seriously injured.

She was actually very pretty in a simple sort of way—innocent, perhaps. She didn't have that world-weary look that so many of his friends did.

In the circles he traveled, it was rare to see someone that looked so fresh at…forty, she'd said?

Forty.

He would have guessed her much younger.

She was only two years younger than he. He had turned forty-two two months ago.

Annie shifted her head. Victor blanched.

A cross.

She wore a tiny cross around her neck.

All good feelings toward this woman were shoved aside as memories of his parents flooded his mind.

She was a Christian—like them.

How could she be? he wondered. But then she hadn't been herself either.

The bitterness and anger—hidden but always near to his heart—threatened to surface. It would have too if he'd had more time to dwell on it, but just then, the ambulance pulled to a stop at the emergency room entrance. Victor realized he still held Annie's hand.

Releasing it, he stepped back and allowed the technicians to do their job.

He followed the stretcher into the hospital and into the ward. Maybe she just wore the necklace
because she liked the look. Besides, not all people who wore crosses were like his parents. His parents hadn't believed in wearing any jewelry, so maybe she wasn't like them at all. Anyway, it didn't matter. She was here alone and needed help. And he would help this woman, regardless of her religious beliefs. He forced those bitter memories away by becoming the persona he had created so many years ago through so many parts.

When the nurse came in, he gave all of the information he could and then stepped away to make a call to his home. He needed some fresh clothes. He also needed to talk to this woman when she woke up.

Of course once she was in her right mind and had calmed down, she would recognize him and that might pose a problem. But then, he was used to that.

He would simply be prepared for whatever her reaction would be.

He supposed that the sweet innocence he'd perceived would disappear and he would find out just what type of person Annie really was. Money had that effect on people—money and fame. And he had both. Wearily he sighed and accepted that that was how it would be.

Thinking about that, he decided it might not hurt to put in a call to his lawyer as well.

It was going to be a long day.

A
nnie groaned.

She heard someone speaking to her, though she couldn't understand him, and then she felt herself being prodded to sit up.

Painfully she opened one eye. And immediately realized she had been unconscious—again.

“A cast?” She looked down at her right leg in dismay. “I'm in a cast.”

“You're awake.”

Her gaze went past the other beds in the room she was in, and, to her relief, she saw her rescuer coming down the main aisle, the very man who had just spoken. Wow. She hadn't imagined it. He was hot.

His footsteps echoed on the tiled floor. She
could hear other noises from other beds around her, though the curtains blocked her view of the people in the cubicles. Light shone through the windows near where Victor had entered, and she was relieved to realize that not much time must have passed if it was still light out.

“What happened?”

The man who had been prodding her to sit up now pointed at a wheelchair before pointing at the bed.

She didn't understand him.

Victor said something to him, and the man replied. Victor commented again in a sharper tone and the man strode off, not looking back.

“I'm sorry he woke you. I stepped out to freshen up. I thought you'd be okay for a few minutes. I guess I was wrong.”

She pointed at the obvious. “I have a broken leg.”

Victor nodded. He stopped next to her bed and lifted his hand to touch her just above her eye. “How do you feel?”

She winced in pain, yet at the same time felt her heart flutter at how close this man was. He was really good-looking and somehow, strangely familiar. His magnetism was unbelievable as well. She really liked the change he'd made while she was unconscious. Instead of the paint-spattered
shirt and jeans, he wore a casual pair of dress slacks and a tucked-in polo shirt along with a light tan leather jacket.

She forced a breath in and then said, “I really can't thank you enough for all you've done.”

He shook his head. “We need to talk.”

He waited and stared at her.

She wasn't sure what he wanted.

Disconcerted, he tilted his head. “Do you have any questions for me?” he finally asked as if he knew something she didn't.

She thought a moment and then slowly nodded. Dropping her eyes, she asked, “Do they arrest foreigners for what happened today? I mean I hit some man with my car—where is he, by the way?”

“That's your question?” He sounded surprised.

She lifted her gaze to meet his and found something akin to amazement, or maybe it was perturbed shock, on his face. “I want to go home,” she added, thinking perhaps that was what he was wanting to hear.

He let out a breath and simply glanced past her for a moment as if centering his thoughts.

“You're too banged up to travel. The doctor is willing to release you only if someone watches you for the next forty-eight hours.”

“But I didn't come here with anyone.”

“I know that. I've been on the phone making arrangements. I have a large house. You can stay with me—”

“I don't even know you.” Annie leaned back, slightly stunned that he would suggest such a thing.

Okay, now why had that shocked him so much? His mouth fell open. He started to say something and then paused, getting that same strange look on his face that he had had a few minutes ago. Finally he gazed back at her. “I'm the one you were in the wreck with.”

“But the man—the one who was yelling? You're the one who helped me.”

Confused, she shook her head. Something wasn't adding up.

“He was angry that a tourist was blocking his business. He was easily paid off with a large order for meat.” Victor grinned slightly before the serious look returned. “No, Annie. I was coming into town to buy some paints, and a dog ran out in front of me. I cut right in front of you and caused the head-on.”

She gaped as her mind tried to process what had really happened. She still couldn't remember a thing other than driving down the street and then opening her eyes and finding herself injured. “Are you okay?” she asked weakly. She had leaned so heavily on this gentleman throughout her ordeal
that she hadn't even noticed whether he'd been hurt.

“I have a much better car than yours. My air bag deployed. I'm a little stiff. But to answer your question, I'm fine. It's you who was injured.”

“I am so sorry,” Annie said, horrified. “You've been so nice. I've relied on you and now—”

“Now I'm inviting you to my house,” he said, interrupting her. “Since it was my fault, not yours, there's no reason to keep apologizing and every reason for me to make it up to you by giving you a place to stay while you're here recovering.”

He reached out and took her hand, lifting it and wrapping both of his hands around it again. Then he allowed his eyes to drift upward, over the planes of her face until they finally locked with her own brown eyes, and he said simply, “You'll need someone who can interpret for you over the next few days while we get all of this sorted out.”

Annie nodded. “But I don't know you.”

He shook his head slightly, started to say something and then let it go.

“The doctor does. Everyone in this small town does,” he said. “If you need references, ask the doctor if I'm safe.”

At that moment an older man came walking up with a chart in his hands.

Victor dropped Annie's hand and turned toward
the doctor. They proceeded to have a rapid-fire conversation in Dutch.

“Like the doctor would understand me if I asked him,” Annie muttered.

Evidently she'd muttered it too loudly because both men turned toward her. “Ask me what?” the older man said in heavily accented English.

“You speak—”

“—English? Yes. There are few of us in town who do.” He smiled. “I'm Dr. Gaulkner.”

“She wants to know if it's safe to stay with me until she recovers,” Victor interjected into the conversation before Annie could say anything.

The doctor lifted his eyebrows and turned toward Victor. He laughed outright. “Safe? Now what a question. Many people, they would appreciate to answer that.”

Turning back to Annie he said, “He is more safe than staying in an hotel alone. And if that no reassures you, I'll give you mine home phone number where that you can contact me. You should be grateful that Victor, he is taking such time out of his schedule to tend for you.”

He smiled at Victor. “If you have the questions about mine instructions I've given you for her, you ring me.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Annie.

It was a set of numbers.

“Mine number. Ring me up.”

He turned and walked away.

“Wait. How much do I owe? Where do I pay? Do you take travelers' checks?” She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “Oh, no, they're in the car!” Panic built again.

“It's already taken care of,” Victor said. Catching her hand, he pulled her attention back to him. “I had my driver, who wasn't driving me at the time, by the way, go by and collect your things. Leaving them in an unattended vehicle wouldn't be wise.”

He continued to hold her hand, stroking it gently.

She noticed that.

And he had a way of using his eyes that captured and held her attention.

He was a very physical person.

Nervously, she licked her lips.

He smiled slightly, noticing the gesture.

“I'm indebted to you,” she said simply.

“Consider it payback for the wreck I caused,” he corrected with an odd look on his face.

Finally, she nodded.

“You know, you're not what I expected,” he murmured softly.

“Oh?” she asked.

He glanced down at her neck.

She fingered the small cross, not understanding.

He obviously wasn't going to explain. He changed the subject. “Can you stand and move into the wheelchair?”

“Where are my clothes?” she asked, a bit of a blush working its way to her cheeks at having to ask a stranger such a question.

He pointed and she nearly groaned when she realized they were next to her on the end of the bed.

“Let me change,” she said, embarrassed that a stranger was standing here, helping her and she was dressed in next to nothing.

He nodded and stepped past the partition, pulling it closed to give her some privacy.

She took stock of her body. She already had some darkening areas on her chest. And her neck and shoulders hurt too. As a matter of fact, her lower back hurt, she realized as she dropped her skirt over her head and buttoned it around her waist. But the pain was pretty blunted. The medication, which muted the pain, made her woozy as well.

“Ready?” Victor called finally.

“Ready,” she replied, and thought she was more than ready to sit down as she dropped onto the edge of the bed.

He returned and ran his gaze over her.

“Amazingly enough, it only hurts when I move,” she quipped.

“You're still doped up from all the medication they gave you.”

She glanced down at her hand and found a small bandage where an IV had once been. “Oh, yuck. I'm a mess.” Her clothes were bloody and on her legs, now bare of hose, she could still see some remnants of blood.

“You can have a hot bath when we get home. Come on, let me help you.”

He reached up and slipped his hands under her arms.

She gasped at the strength in those hands.

How long had it been since a man had touched her so intimately? The closest she'd been to a man in four years was an occasional hug at church.

It was very disconcerting.

“What is it?”

She glanced up and realized her face was only inches from his. She couldn't help but think how handsome he was and how very masculine.

“Are you hurting?” he prompted when she didn't answer.

Jarred by the second sentence, she nodded. “Everywhere.”

He turned with her and helped her into the wheelchair. “I have a housekeeper who'll help you
bathe if you need to. In the meantime, let's just concentrate on getting you home and rested. I have a feeling you're going to be hurting a lot more before this is over.”

“I have a feeling you're right.” She smiled gently.

The man who had originally woken her up returned with a pair of crutches. He took control of the wheelchair and passed the crutches to Victor. With a smooth motion he turned and wheeled her out of the room. The hall was long, a dingy gray-blue and very old looking. Light bulbs dotted the ceiling along the corridor.

At the end of the hall they came to electronic doors that opened to a driveway where a car was waiting.

People with cameras were there, and they immediately started snapping pictures. “Oh, no.” Annie reached up self-consciously and pushed at her hair. “This is awful.”

She glanced down in embarrassment.

“I'm sorry for this,” Victor said and stepped up to the large dark vehicle that sat at the curb. A man was waiting and pulled the door open.

Victor slid in and allowed the other person to lift Annie into the car. “Is this the car I hit?” she asked, confused.

“No.”

“Is this your car?” was her next question. It was a luxurious car with thick plush seats and a window separating the front from the back.

“Yes.”

Annie suddenly had an inkling that this man must have money. No one she knew drove around in a car like this. No one that she knew could afford to. She leaned her head back into the soft seat and sighed as it cupped her sore body. “I guess this was what Cinderella felt like when she got into the coach.”

The driver got in and started the vehicle. They drove slowly until they were past the people who were snapping pictures.

He didn't blink at anything that went on, simply sat next to her as they exited the parking lot.

Perhaps the locals always reacted this way? Maybe the ones with cameras had simply been the press wanting pictures of the people in the wreck? A few of the photographers looked awfully young to hold jobs though. But then, she'd heard that people overseas started work younger.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he didn't elaborate about the car or comment on the cameras.

“I live about fifteen minutes outside of town. We'll be there shortly.

“See that valley with the sheep over there?”

Annie followed his finger to where he pointed. “It's beautiful.”

“I live about ten kilometers on the other side of it to the east. I have a nice home that's isolated. I raise horses there.”

He had to be rich.

Perhaps he was someone important to Holland. “Do you raise tulips?”

The man slowly turned his head and stared at her. His gaze met hers and then touched on her features, causing her cheeks to warm.

Those eyes could hold a person indefinitely. Finally he asked, “Why did you choose Holland to visit?”

It was said kindly, not condemning or rudely. And she felt he was really interested.

“I've heard that it was a beautiful place. I love tulips. And I've always wanted to see a windmill.”

“Why did you pick this town?”

“I asked the travel agent for an out-of-the-way place that would be nice to visit. She said there were some famous people who lived here and they had several tourist attractions. Though it was off the beaten path, Europeans liked to frequent it when they visit, she said.”

“They do have a nice retreat here,” Victor agreed. “About thirty more kilometers north. And they do have a world-famous poet who lives just
down the road from me. He's won several honors.”

They hit a bump, and Annie winced.

Victor tapped on the window. “Careful, Haufman. Our guest is in pain.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied in broken English.

“He speaks English too.”