Flying High (2 page)

“Can I please have some coffee, Audie?”

She would look back one day and know that was the moment when he sneaked into her heart. “You little devil,” she said, as laughter spilled out of her. A lightheartedness, a joy, seemed to envelop her, and she lifted him from his chair and hugged him.

“No, you can’t have any coffee, and you know it.”

His lips grazed her cheek in a quick, almost tentative, kiss, delighting and surprising her. “Now be a good boy and finish your milk.”

“Okay. I’m four.”

She was about to thank him for telling the truth when the sound of heavy steps loping down the stairs reminded her that they were not alone, and her belly tightened in anticipation.

* * *

Nelson stepped out of the shower, and as he dried his body, it occurred to him that a man of his height had to spend twice as much time on ablutions as did a shorter man of slight build. But he wasn’t complaining; he liked his six-foot-five frame. He slipped on a red short-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of fatigues and followed the aroma of coffee, his spirits high as he anticipated getting in a solid day’s work at home.

He was used to Ricky now, and thought nothing unusual as he strode down the hallway enjoying the sound of the boy’s chatter. He stepped into the kitchen.

“’Morning, you two. What’s for break...? What the...? Who are you, and where’s Lena?”

“Unca Nelson, Audie gave me toast. I love toast, Unca Nelson.”

She looked up at him, her lips parted in what was surely surprise, and immediately her lashes covered her remarkably dark and luminous eyes.
Who was she?
Jolts of electricity whistled through his veins, firing him up the way gasoline dumped on a fire triggers powerful flames. He thought he would explode.

“I said...who are you?” Her grudging smile sent darts zinging all over his body, poleaxing him. He groped for the chair beside Ricky where Lena usually sat and slowly lowered himself into it.

“What are you doing here? If I may ask?”

“I’m Audrey Powers,” she said. “My aunt Lena had to go to a church outing today and asked me to fill in for her. I can’t believe she didn’t get your approval.”

Dignified. Well-spoken. Yes, and lovely. “Lena get my approval for something she wants to do? She tries, and if she doesn’t succeed, she deals with matters in her own way. Thanks for helping out. I have a lot of things to do around here today, and it’s good that you’re here to look after Ricky. Any chance I could get some breakfast?”

Her reticence didn’t escape him. “Cooking isn’t something I’m good at, Colonel. I noticed some grits in the pantry. If you can handle grits, scrambled eggs and toast...?”

She let it hang, and he knew it was that or nothing, so he didn’t mention the sausage or bacon that had to be somewhere in that refrigerator.

“I’d appreciate it, and if you wouldn’t mind sharing your coffee...”

As if seeing him for the first time, or maybe questioning his temerity, her eyes narrowed in a squint, and suddenly he could feel the tension crackling between them.
Good Lord, I don’t need this. I don’t know a thing about this woman.

She got up from the table, exposing her five feet, eight inches of svelte feminine beauty, rounded hips and full bosom emphasized by a neat waist. He gulped air as she glided toward the kitchen counter, got a mug of coffee and handed it to him.

“If you want a second cup, the carafe is over there beside the sink.”

Her message didn’t escape him; she wasn’t there to pamper him, but to take care of Ricky. “Thanks. I’m not much good before I get my coffee.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe, Colonel. I’d bet you do what you have to do, no matter the circumstances.”

His left eyebrow shot up. “I try to do that, but how do you know?” He gripped his neck with his left hand as the familiar pain shot through him, took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Thank God Lena wasn’t there to start her lecture. “When it comes to duty, a man ought to set personal considerations aside. And call me Nelson. Do you mind if I call you Audrey?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I like Audie, Unca Nelson.”

“After conning me into putting sugar into your chocolate milk, I guess you do.” She looked at Nelson. “He told me he eats cake for breakfast.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Ricky is skilled at getting what he wants. He doesn’t get sugar in his milk, and I hope you didn’t give him any cake.”

“He got the sugar, but I knew better than to give him cake.”

“I like cake, Audie. Miss Lena makes cake, and it’s good, too.”

Her gaze lingered on Ricky, and it was clear to Nelson that Ricky had won her affection. “I’m sorry, Ricky, but I have never made a cake in my life. Excuse me, Nelson, while I get your breakfast.”

“It’s okay. Miss Lena will make the cake,” Ricky called after her.

If only his neck would stop paining him. He had to finish installing the bookcases in his den and get some work done on the paneling in his basement.

He finished his breakfast, started upstairs to his den and glanced around to see Ricky following him with his “blanket,” a navy blue beach towel trailing behind him.

“Rick, old boy, you’re going to have to give up that blanket. Wainwright men do not romance blankets.” He looked up to find Audrey’s gaze on him. “They romance women.” Now, why the devil had he said that? He whirled around and dashed up the stairs feeling as if he’d lost control of his life. And he always made it a point to control himself and, to the extent possible, his life and everything that affected him personally.

She’s not going to detour me, I wouldn’t care if she was the Venus de Milo incarnate. And I’m going to give Lena a good talking-to when she gets back here.

* * *

Damn!
He jerked back his thumb, dropped the hammer and went to the bathroom to run cold water on the injury. If he had been paying attention, if the picture of Audrey Powers sitting at his kitchen table smiling at Ricky hadn’t blotted all else out of his mind...

I don’t care who she is or what she looks like, I’m not getting involved with her.
He laughed. Getting involved was a two-sided thing, and she hadn’t given any indication that she was interested. He corrected that. She reacted to him as a man, that was sure, but the woman displayed her dignity the way the sun displays its rays. And she kept her feelings to herself. He’d give a lot to know who she was, but he was not going to let her know that. She was here for one day, and he’d make sure that was all.

* * *

Audrey cleaned the kitchen, something she seldom had to do at home, and tried to figure out what to do with Ricky. Finally she asked him, “Where’s your room, Ricky?” Perhaps she could read to him or he could play with his toys.

The child beamed with glee, grabbed her hand and started with her to the stairs. “Up the stairs, Audie. I have a big room.”

She started up with him then stopped. She did not want to encounter Nelson Wainwright right then, for she hadn’t reclaimed the contentment that she’d worked so hard and so long to achieve, the feeling that she belonged to herself, that her soul was her own. One look at Nelson Wainwright—big, strong and all man with his dreamy eyes trained on her—and she had nearly sprung out of her chair. Like a clap of thunder, he jarred her from her head to her toes, an eviscerating blow to her belly. She thanked God she’d been sitting down.

“Can you play my flute?” Ricky asked her as they walked into his room, a child’s dreamworld.

Her gaze fell on a full-size harp, and her heart kicked over. She’d studied the harp and had once played it well, but hadn’t touched it since her father died. He loved to hear her play and would sit and listen for as long as she played.

“I’m sorry, Ricky, but I’ve never played the flute.”

“Unca Nelson can play it. Can you read me
Winnie-the-Pooh?
”

She told him she could, and he handed her the book, surprising her when he climbed into her lap and rested his head on her breast while she read to him. The prospect of motherhood didn’t occupy much of her thoughts, because her one experience with love and loving had erupted in her face. And since she wanted nothing more to do with men, certainly not to expose herself in an intimate relationship, she blocked thoughts of motherhood and children. But she couldn’t deny that Ricky stirred in her heart a longing for the joy of a child at her breast.

When the story ended, Ricky scampered off her lap, ran across the room, and put a compact disk on his player. Then he ran back and looked up at her, waiting for her response as Ella Fitzgerald’s “A Teskit A Tasket” filled the room. To let him know that she appreciated his gesture, she sang along with Ella while he clapped his hands and jumped up and down laughing and trying to sing along with her.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?”

She settled her gaze on the door and the man who stood there wearing a quizzical smile and a soft, surgical collar around his neck.

Ricky ran to his uncle and tugged at his hand. “Audie read my book for me and I’m playing my CD for her.”

He picked the boy up and hugged him. “Don’t wear her out, now.”

“How old is Ricky?” Audrey asked Nelson.

“He’ll be five next week.” His left hand went to the back of his neck. “He’s made tremendous progress since Lena’s been with him. I had him in foster care for a couple of months after my brother died, and that experience set him back considerably. I brought him here to live with me, and I could see an improvement within a week.”

She watched as he held his neck without seeming to give the act conscious thought. It was not a good sign. “I’m sure he feels the difference. Some foster parents give a child love and understanding as well as care; others don’t, often through no fault of their own. Tell me, do you play the harp?” She pointed to the instrument in Ricky’s room.

He lowered his head. “Wish I could. That one belonged to my brother, Ricky’s father. He played it very well indeed. I put it here in case Ricky takes an interest in it.”

Speaking of his brother obviously saddened him, and she found that she wanted to know more, but didn’t dare invade his privacy with a personal question.

“I’m hungry, Audie. Can I have some ice cream?”

“May I have some ice cream?” Nelson said, correcting the child. “No, you may not. You get ice cream after you’ve eaten all of your lunch. You know that.”

His face a picture of innocence, Ricky turned to her. “Don’t give me much lunch.”

She stifled a laugh and got up, surprised by the realization that she had spent half a day enjoying the company of a four-year-old. Still holding Ricky in his arms, Nelson didn’t move from the doorway as she attempted to leave the room. Her nerves skittered as she neared him and when she couldn’t help glancing up at him, he looked down directly into her eyes and caught his breath. She managed to pass him, but only the Lord knew how she did it.

Something in him, something hard and strong, blood-sizzlingly masculine, clutched at her. An aura like nothing she’d experienced jumped out at her and claimed her. And all he’d done was stand there. How she got downstairs she would never know; he blurred her vision and sabotaged her thoughts. Worse, her heart threatened to bolt from her chest. She leaned against the kitchen counter. Nelson Wainwright was just another man, and she had no intention of making a fool of herself over him. A long sigh escaped her. One piece of her father’s wisdom claimed that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

“Girl, you need to get out more,” she chided herself. “Stuck in that hospital all the time, you forget what it’s like out here.”

With a few minutes, she called up to him. “Lunch is ready, Nelson, such as it is.”

He took a long time getting downstairs, and she couldn’t help wondering why. “Thank you for taking care of this, Audrey,” he said. “I get the feeling this is aeons away from what you normally do.”

He stared at the food before him. “I take it you don’t cook much. These look good, though,” he said of the tuna salad and cheese sandwiches.

“I cook not at all.”

Ricky clapped his hands and laughed. “No potatoes and no veggies, Unca Nelson. I like this. I want Audie to stay with us all the time.”

He seemed to wince as his hand went once more to his neck, and this time there was no mistaking his pain. Without considering her action, she rose from the table, stepped behind him and examined his neck.

“What the... What are you doing?” he demanded as her fingers began the gentle massage that she knew would bring him relief. “I said... Look here. You’re out of line.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, without pausing in her ministrations. “I’m a physician, Nelson, and physical therapy and sports medicine are my specialties. This will make you feel better.”

“You’re a
what?
”

“A physician. I can’t help noticing your problem, and it’s clear to me that the pain is killing you.”

“Look here! You can’t—”

“Don’t you feel better already? Fifteen minutes of this and you’ll feel like a different man. Just relax and give yourself over to me.”

“What kind of—?”

“Shh. Just relax.”

“Does it hurt, Unca Nelson?” Ricky’s voice rose with anxiety, and she hastened to assure him that she was helping, not hurting, his uncle.

“I’m making him feel better, Ricky. Go on and eat your sandwich. Isn’t the pain easing already, Nelson?”

* * *

Her fingers, gentle, yet firm, kneaded his flesh. “Relax,” she’d said, but how could he, tense as he was with the pain that was his constant companion. He thought of pushing back his chair and leaving the table, but if he did that, he could hurt her. How could Lena betray him so blatantly?

“Relax. Drop your shoulders,” she whispered.

No one dictated his life, as Lena was trying to do, and he wouldn’t have it. He attempted to move, but with deft fingers Audrey soothed him, easing the pain, giving him the first relief he’d had in nearly a year, reducing the throbbing to a dull ache. Her hands massaged him with soft circular movements, squeezing and caressing. He lowered his head and luxuriated in the relief that her gentle strokes gave him. Then, with his eyes closed, he saw her fingers skimming his entire naked body, caressing and adoring him, preparing him for the assault of her luscious mouth.