Heroes (Hollywood Heartthrobs #1) (8 page)

Dean
shook his head slightly. Tempestuous? Titular? A distracting narrative
convention? Who talks like that? Wonders never cease with this girl.

Jane
went on with hardly a pause. “But then I started reading this instead. Much
more engaging. The language seemed a bit impenetrable at the start, but a few
pages in you start to pick up the rhythm of it.” She held up a copy of
The
Canterbury Tales
by Geoffrey Chaucer. “The trick is to sound the words out,
then it’s pie.”

Dean’s
eyes widened. “Jane, I think you might be an English teacher or something,” he
said quickly.

Jane
considered the suggestion for a moment. She’s definitely thoughtful, thought
Dean. “Possibly. I do seem to have strong feelings about some of these books,
even though I don’t recognize them.”

“Teaching
would suit you I think,” Dean said with a smile.

“Is
that a compliment?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well,
in that case I should focus on the best books I suppose. Care to help me?” she
waved a hand vaguely at the stack. “Anything you would recommend?”

Dean
looked over the books. Several appeared to be from some sort of classics
reprint edition, plus a few paperback romances and mysteries. He pointed to a
collection of Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. “Those are classics. Sherlock
Holmes, consulting detective. Brilliant mind, funny hat.” That was worth a
smirk from Jane. Next to that was a copy of
Frankenstein
. “Ooh, this one
too.”

“Yeah,
I think I caught part of a movie version of that on TV this morning. Some black
and white production. Doctor builds a monster man, rampages through village.”

“Oh,
no,” Dean said, warming to the topic now that he felt on solid ground. “You’ve
got to read it. None of the movies do this one justice. I read it because I was
auditioning for an adaptation, the character of the monster is so different in
the original text from anything they ever show on screen. Read this one.”

“You
got it,” Jane said, smiling at his enthusiasm. “But, go back a second, you
mentioned auditioning. Are you an actor? I realize I haven’t asked you what you
do.”

Dean
hesitated a second before answering. “Yes. Not a particularly good or famous
one, though.”

Jane
looked at him playfully. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I think it would
suit you.”

“I’m
fairly sure that is not a compliment,” Dean retorted with mock offense.

“No,
no, I meant it in a good way. You’ve got that whole dashing hero thing down
pat. I’m living proof.” She winked at him. He found it suddenly difficult to
breathe for the tightening in his chest. God, what was it with this girl? He
looked back at the table and saw one slim volume he hadn’t yet noticed. It
read,
William’s Shakespeare’s The Life of King Henry V.

“Um,
Jane? Favor to ask.”

“What’s
that?”

He
picked up
Henry V
. “Please don’t read this.”

“What?”
she asked. “Why not?”

“Because
this,” he gestured emphatically at the book. “This was not meant to be read.
This was meant to be seen. Everything I just said about how you have to read
Frankenstein
to really get it. Forget all that. This is something that is meant to be
staged.”

Jane
looked quizzically at him, then seemed to decide. “Alright then, I won’t read
that one. But may I point out I can’t exactly go to a theater to see it staged
today. Kind of stuck here at the moment.”

Dean
smiled. “Don’t worry, I can sort that out. Just please, don’t read this one.”

“Alright,
but only because I owe you my life and all.” Jane laughed.

Despite
the warm and friendly conversation they were having, a spear of ice struck Dean
through the chest at those words. She still believed she was the one in his
debt. Coward! He shook his head to clear the thought away, launching back into
a discussion of the books.

          After what
felt like another minute or two, they were interrupted by the arrival of Dr.
Frobisher.

          “Afternoon.
Sorry to interrupt when you have a visitor,” she spared Dean a quick smile. “I
just wanted to check in with you quickly before I leave for the day. How are
you?”

          “Really good.
Dean, this is my neurologist, Dr. Frobisher. Dr. Frobisher, this is my friend,
Dean.”

          “Oh, great, I
hadn’t heard someone had come forward! So, Dean, are you able to shed some
light on our mystery patient here?”

          Dean
hesitated for only a second, but Jane noticed it and jumped in to help. “Oh,
no, not like that. Unfortunately Dean and I just met. After the accident. At
the accident, actually. He pulled me away from the truck.”

          Now he had
earned a full smile from the good doctor. “Ah, right, that was in the report.
Good work, Dean, you quite possibly saved her life.”

          Only after I
nearly got her killed, he thought bitterly to himself. Outwardly, though, all
he could do was smile and give a small nod.

          Good man, Dr.
Frobisher thought. Doesn’t want a lot of fanfare. Probably going soft on her
now. Hero rescues princess, and all that. Sweet. Not to mention hot. I suppose
if you’ve got to end up in front of a truck, a sexy hero is a pretty good
consolation prize. She turned her attention back to the patient.

          “So, still
Jane then? Nothing coming back yet?”

          “Still Jane.
But otherwise great. Thank you for the suggestion about the library. As you can
see I’ve made myself busy.”

          “Good. The
scans from today came back and things look very positive. I’ll be by again
tomorrow. Have a good night. And Dean, it was very nice to meet you.”

          “You too,
doc.” It was the first thing Dean had said since she came in the room. As she
left, Dean got a look at the clock on the wall and was shocked. Dr. Frobisher
had been in the room no more than three minutes, was it really possible he’d
been here well over an hour? He looked back at Jane; she caught his stare and
smiled. A man could get lost for years in a smile like that.

          He suddenly
remembered the pizzas. “Oh, son of a…” he said.

          “What?” Jane
asked.

          “I just
realized how long I’ve actually been here.” Jane flinched, and he immediately
regretted his phrasing. “I mean, I didn’t realize how much time had passed, I
was supposed to bring dinner home.”

          “Oh. To your
brother’s?” she asked. Dean nodded.

          “Samantha
will have my head if the boys get all hangry on her.”

          “Samantha?”
Jane asked. She didn’t want to admit to herself she hoped Samantha was an aged
maiden aunt in the picture.

          “My sister.
Sister-in-law, actually. She’s Tucker and Alec’s mom. Nate, my brother, is her
husband.”

          “Moms and
portmanteau words, that’s serious business. I shouldn’t keep you,” Jane
responded cheerfully. Sister-in-law was even better than maiden aunt.

          Dean felt an
overwhelming reluctance to leave. “Yeah, I have to go.” He struggled a bit with
how to phrase the next part. “Jane, I just want to say, it’s, well, it’s great
to get to know you.” God, how lame. What is this, a daytime chat show? Dean
thought to himself.

          Jane took the
compliment with grace. “It’s great to get to know you too, Dean. I’ll take your
advice about the books, and thank you again so much for the flowers. I hope
you’ll come and visit again. If I’m not taking you away from your family too
much.”

          “Oh, you’ll
see me again. But remember your promise.” He pointed squarely at her. “I want a
full report on
Frankenstein
and hands off Henry.” 

          “Anything for
my hero.”

          Dean was late
getting back to Nathan and Samantha’s, but in a house with small children a man
carrying pizza is treated with almost religious reverence. After dinner, as
Samantha put the boys to bed, Nate stopped Dean on his way to his room.

          “You were
gone a long while this afternoon.” There was no accusation in his tone, just
concern.

          “Yeah, sorry,
Nate, I didn’t mean to keep the boys waiting on dinner,” Dean replied.

          “Don’t worry
about it, Sam let them snack anyway. The girl though, is she alright?”

          “She’s…” A
thousand things could have filled Dean’s pause. Amazing? Heroic? Brilliant?
Beautiful? Strong? Possibly the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met? “She’s
better,” he finished finally.

          Dean could
read the unspoken question mark in his brother’s eyes.

          “She broke
her arm and bumped her head, but the doctors are saying everything’s fine.”

          “And that
took you over an hour to ascertain?” A slight gleam came into Nate’s eyes. 

          “Well, we got
to talking.” Dean responded.

          “This girl that
rescued Alec, she wouldn’t happen to be young and good-looking, would she?”

          Dean put up
his best poker face. Nate noticed. 

          “Oh sure,
Dean, I’m only your brother, and I’ve only known you all my life. You still
think you can keep secrets from me? The minute you walked through that door
today I could see it written all over your face.”

          “What makes
you think it’s her?”

          “Well,
because I know you love your nephews, and Sam, and me, probably in that order,
but that isn’t the way we make you look. I briefly considered that you’d met a
nurse at the hospital or something, but if that were the case you would be
evasive about her and forthcoming with information about the woman who was hit.
Therefore, it has to be her.”

          He couldn’t
talk about Jane yet, he couldn’t explain what had really happened. But Nate
knew him far too well. He decided to tip part of his hand.

          “Alright, you
got me. The girl, she’s, Nate, she’s something special.”

          “Well, she
did jump in front of a truck to protect my son, so I’m inclined to believe
you.”

          “It’s not
just that, Nate. I’m realizing this accident is part of a bigger picture for
her. This girl is smart, caring, brave. I mean, this girl is like Princess
Valiant or something.”

          Nate grinned.
“It’s great to see you like this, Dean.”

          “What do you
mean?”

          “I mean, I
haven’t seen you get it this bad in a long, long while. You’ve got Hollywood types
and rabid fans all over you, sure, but, to really have it for a woman, it’s
been a while for you.” Dean gave a frustrated grimace. “Oh, what you don’t
intend to see her again? So, when I called the boys’ babysitter and told her I
would be dropping the boys off as usual tomorrow morning, that was a mistake? I
should call her and cancel because you’ll be here all day tomorrow?”

          Dean had to
smile. Damn, his little brother really could read him like a book. “Well, I
wouldn’t want you cancelling at the last minute, that would be rude. Plus,
yaknow, kids need routine. Be good for them to get back to normal tomorrow
after all this excitement.”

          Nate rolled
his eyes. “Right. Goodnight Dean.”

          “One thing
though. You wouldn’t happen to have a laptop around I could use while I’m here,
would you?”

          A few minutes
later, Samantha rolled over as Nate climbed into bed next to her. He was
wearing his cutest smirk.

          “I can see it
in your face. So you were right?”

          “I was
right.”

          “He’s in for
it now?”

          Nate kissed
his wife gently on her lips, then smiled. “Baby, that girl is going to bring
him to his knees.”

          Samantha
smiled. “Good for her.”

****

          Jane read
late into the night. Dean had been right about both Sherlock Holmes and
Frankenstein’s monster. They were fantastic. The Doyle stories were outlandish,
hilarious, and occasionally touching.
Frankenstein
was dark,
thought-provoking, and ultimately heartbreaking. Dean had excellent taste in
literature. Not just a pretty face then, Jane thought to herself. Even engaged
in the stories, she couldn’t put him from her mind, and privately, she didn’t
want to.

          She replayed
their conversations over in her head, alternately confirming and denying the
attraction between them. But was it an attraction? Is that why he had come back
to visit? (With flowers! a small voice in her head shouted.) Jane could imagine
him staying that first time out of a simple, honest concern to make sure she
was alright, but chivalry alone didn’t explain his return. Her room had a small
bathroom attached. Standing in front of the mirror, she considered her own
face. It was pleasant enough. Maybe he did find her attractive? She couldn’t be
sure. Maybe there was nothing romantic, just a genuinely kind man going out of
his way to check up on her. It was conceivable that he might feel responsible
for her, that by rescuing her he had signed on to help look after her. She
couldn’t deny her powerful attraction to him, but her pride decreed she would
rather never see him again than see him because he felt obligated to her. 

          She tried not
to wonder about her lost memories. She felt oddly confident that they would
return in time, and until then it would be pointless to dwell on their absence.
That led her mind back to Dean. Whatever was in her past, people, places,
anything, they were out of her reach for the moment. Dean was present.
Temporarily adrift in a vast ocean, Dean had sailed into her life like some
intrepid explorer. 

          With effort,
she wrenched her thoughts back to Holmes’ elementary observations. If only she
had his powers of deduction, she thought with a smile.

****

          Dean left the
next morning shortly after Nathan and the boys. Jane was still asleep when he
arrived at her room. She slept on her side, her good right arm tucked under her
head, her hair draped across her face. God she was beautiful. He realized he
had been wrong that first night, she looked much different asleep naturally
than she had unconscious. There was a flushed, healthy glow to her skin that
hadn’t been there before. Blood loss, maybe? He noticed her right hand no
longer had an IV in it. She must be improving fast. For a moment he watched her
breathe, her chest rising and falling gently in a soft rhythm. Through the
blankets, he could just see the curve of her breasts as she inhaled. He
suddenly had to shake himself out of his observations. He saw bombshell
actresses in various states of dishabille all the time, and was completely
professional about it, but this woman asleep and fully covered made him
physically ache.

          He must have
made a sound, because Jane’s gorgeous green eyes opened sleepily. She was so
beautiful he grinned. “Morning, sunshine,” he said.

          She gave him
a little smile, then suddenly started with recognition. “Dean! Oh, good
morning, sorry, what time is it?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her robe had
come slightly open as she slept. Dean tried hard not to stare but the
temptation was overpowering. He caught sight of a handful of enticing freckles
dotting the space between her breasts.

          “It’s a
little after 8am. Sorry, maybe it was a little early to come visiting.”

          “No, no,
you’re fine. I just…” Jane paused to let out a large yawn. “Just give me a
minute.” She got out of bed and lumbered clumsily to the tiny bathroom.

          Dean smiled.
So she’s not one of those morning people who spring out of bed to the sounds of
birdsongs. Good, she was getting a little too perfect.

          Jane emerged
about five minutes later, having splashed her face, combed her hair, and
performed various other ablutions. Dean looked apologetic.

          “I’m sorry
Jane, I didn’t mean to wake you. I can come back later if it’s too early.”

          “No, honestly
Dean, I am so glad to see you, and you’re welcome anytime. You’re my one living
link to the world outside this hospital, it’s great that you’re here.” She gave
him an adorable sleepy smile. It would be a lucky man who got to wake up to
that every morning, Dean thought.

          “I… I brought
you something.” He said, obviously pleased with himself. Jane noticed he was
carrying a canvas messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He pulled out a laptop
computer and cord, plugging it into the wall next to her bed.

          “You brought
a computer?” Jane asked quizzically.

          “It’s not the
computer, it’s what I can do with it.” He pulled a DVD case out of the bag.

          “Henry the
Fifth!” Jane exclaimed, finally catching his meaning.

          “Told you I’d
sort it out,” Dean said, reveling in her enthusiasm. “If I can’t take you to
Shakespeare, at least I can bring Shakespeare to you.”

          “Dean, that
is so thoughtful of you.” Jane was genuinely touched at the gesture. “I’d love
to see it. Oh, but first, thank you for the recommendations yesterday. Shelley
and Doyle kept me up half the night.”

          “Did they?”
Dean said, with obvious pleasure.

          “Oh yeah, ‘A Scandal
in Bohemia’ was absolutely brilliant. Irene Adler, the one woman clever enough
to outfox the great detective. Brains and beauty, dangerous combination.”

          “Well, some
men love a challenge,” Dean replied with a small laugh. There were those
impossibly attractive creases around the eyes.

          A knock at
the door brought a nurse with some breakfast for Jane. They kept up the
conversation about Holmes while she ate. She broke the small blueberry muffin
in half and offered it affectionately to him. Not wanting to be rude, he took
it gratefully. The muffin was terribly dry, but the simple intimacy of the
gesture touched him. When she had finished, she set the small tray on the table
and turned around.

          “So, movie
date?” she asked. “With how much I’ve already enjoyed your recommendations I
was itching for that Henry.”

          Dean made a
comically stern face. “Now listen here young lady, I hope you’ve kept your
promise.”

          “I did, but
it was not without effort.”

          “You won’t be
sorry,” Dean said. As he booted up the laptop, it occurred to Jane to wonder
how old he was. He had the strong, masculine features of a man in his prime,
but when he got excited his blue eyes took on an almost boyish charm.

          Dean realized
he wasn’t sure how to arrange the table with the computer and his chair so that
both he and Jane could see. Clearly Jane had gotten there before him, because
she reached out for the computer. Dean handed it to her, thinking she would
find the best place. To his immense gratification and slight alarm, she sat down
at the head of the bed, set the computer on her lap and scooted as far to the
left as the hospital’s twin bed would allow. Looking up at him with an
expectant smile, she patted the spot next to her on the bed.

          God help me,
Dean thought. But he kicked off his sneakers and sat down next to her on the
bed. It was a tight squeeze, and her shoulder rested against his.

          “Ready?” she
asked, finger hovering the mouse over the play icon.

          Dean had a
fleeting thought that whatever was about to happen, he was most certainly not
ready. “Ready,” he answered with a smile.

          Jane seemed
immediately completely engrossed in the film. As the story progressed, Dean
could see she was the kind of audience that stage actors pray will fill their
theaters every night. She listened attentively, and she opened herself to the
story. She gasped at the big reveals, laughed genuinely at the jokes, and even
at one point let out a small cheer when Henry gave a rousing speech to his
waning soldiers outside Harfleur. The emotions of the story played beautifully
across her face.

          Dean, on the
other hand, couldn’t seem to focus on the movie. It was his favorite
adaptation, but he’d seen it many times before. Against his will, his attention
was elsewhere. He hadn’t been this physically near to Jane since the accident.
He could feel the warmth radiating from her body, smell the scent of her skin,
even feel the silky softness of her hair brush the side of his neck when she
tilted back her head to laugh. It was intoxicating being so close to her, and
he reveled in the sensations like a man on drugs. At one point Jane paused the
movie to adjust the position of the computer on her lap. She said it was making
her legs too hot. Dean silently added that they didn’t need the help. When she
settled herself again, she had moved ever so slightly closer to Dean’s body. He
could feel the side of her thigh against his. He tried to fight the stiffness
he could feel growing in his jeans. Come on! He thought angrily to himself.
You’re a grown man, not some hormone-raging teenager copping a feel on the
bleachers! He couldn’t help it, he ached for this girl.