His Healing Touch (4 page)

When he hesitated, she put on her best “do as I say” look, hoping it would have more effect on Adam than it did on Aleesha.

Amazingly, it did.

“Do you have a dustpan?” she asked as he stood.

He pointed to a narrow door.

She pulled out a hand broom, too, then proceeded to sweep up the remnants of the plate. “What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?” she asked, eye-level with his worn hiking shoes.

“Watching something on TV, I guess.”

It was just a broken plate; the miserable way he sounded, a person would think he’d killed someone! “Then go watch something on TV. Pretend I’m not even here.”

The shoes—and their owner—hiked into the living room, and seconds later, the theme from the Channel 13 news filled the air.

When she joined him after cleaning up, he was in his recliner, TV listings in one hand, clicker in the other. Kasey sat on the end of the couch nearest his chair and hugged a quilted toss pillow to her chest. “Anything positive happening tonight?”

“Nah. Typical news day.” He brightened slightly to add, “The Dow Jones is up a couple of points, though.”

Yippee,
she thought. Kasey knew as much about the stock market as she knew about cardiology. “Have they said anything about the weather yet?”

“Only that we’re in for a doozie of a storm.”

Yippee,
she echoed silently. It’d be just her luck for the tail end of that hurricane that had been wreaking havoc in the Atlantic to choose tonight to head up Chesapeake Bay. If that happened, they could be stranded here for…for who knew how long! Several years earlier, when the weather had taken a turn like that, downed trees and power lines had Baltimoreans fighting in store aisles over the dwindling supply of ice and batteries. Kasey sighed inwardly.

A huge clap of thunder, followed immediately by crackling lightning, shook the cabin.

Wonderful,
Kasey thought. What else could go wrong?

As if in answer to her question, the lights went out. She watched as the TV’s picture shrunk to a bright white pinpoint, then disappeared altogether. She’d never seen such total darkness, not even in the basement furnace room at home.

“Stay right where you are,” Adam said. “I’ll get a flashlight.”

“Don’t you worry, I’m not gonna move a muscle. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.”

She could hear him, rummaging somewhere off to her left. Hopefully, he hadn’t stored the flashlight in that kitchen drawer, because he was likely to pull out the proverbial bloody stump instead of a flashlight.

Much to her surprise, he was back in no time, illuminated by the pyramid-shaped beam of a foot-long flashlight.

“Here,” he instructed, handing her a battery-powered lantern, “turn that on.”

And before she could agree or object, he was gone again, leaving nothing but a bobbing, weaving trail of light in his wake. Kasey fumbled with the lantern until she found a switch on its side. Minutes later, Adam placed a glass-globed lantern beside it, and once lit, the oil-soaked wick brightened the entire room. He placed a matching lamp on the kitchen counter.

“Well,” she said, laughing, “what in the world will we do without the TV to entertain us?”

Adam leaned back in his recliner. “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll think of something.”

For a reason she couldn’t explain, the way he sounded just now matched the expression he’d worn earlier.
Suspicious
was the only word she could think of to describe it. And she couldn’t for the life of her come up with a reason he’d have to feel that way. “We could play a game, I suppose. Do you have a game cupboard up here?”

“Actually, it’s a game
chest.
” He nodded at the coffee table. “What’s your preference? Scrabble? Monopoly? Life?”

Last thing Kasey wanted to do right now was
think.
She wrinkled her nose. “How ’bout War?”

“That baby game?” he said, grinning.

“Truthfully, if it’s all the same to you, I’m not really in much of a game-playing mood right now.”

Adam sighed. He’d never liked games. Not even as a
kid. “Good, ’cause I’m
never
in much of a game-playing mood.”

“Really?”

He watched her tuck one leg under her, hug the other to her chest. In the lantern light, her hair gleamed like a coppery halo, her eyes glittered like emeralds. “Why’s that? Are you a sore loser?”

She had a lovely, lyrical voice, too, he thought, smiling when she laughed. “Sore loser? Hardly. For some reason, I rarely lose.”

“I see. So you turn
other
people into sore losers, then.”

And that smile! Did she realize it made him want to kiss her?

“Something like that, I guess.”

She started to get up. “So, how ’bout I snoop around in your kitchen, whip us up a cup of hot chocolate. Or tea.”

Somewhere under that thick, oversize sweatsuit, was a curvy, womanly figure. He knew, because earlier, her soaking-wet blouse and trousers had acted like a second skin, making it impossible not to notice. He was surprised at the caustic tone of his
“Mi casa, su casa.”

She padded into the kitchen on the thick-soled athletic socks he’d loaned her and turned on the gas under the teakettle. And as she opened and closed cabinet doors in search of tea bags and sugar, he said, “So tell me how you got into this flower business of yours.”

“It’s a long boring story.” She shook an empty box. “And by the way, you’re out of hot chocolate.”

“Well, one thing we’re not out of is time.” He linked his fingers behind his head.

And you’d better spend it wisely,
he cautioned, because he couldn’t afford to give in to his feelings.

He had a pretty good life, all things considered. His mom was still healthy, thank God, and he had good friends, a
good job, a nice house, a place to hide from the everyday stresses and strains of the world. Only thing missing, really, from his American Dream lifestyle was a wife, two-point-five kids and a golden retriever. The scene flashed in his mind—he and Kasey and a couple of rosy-cheeked, red-haired tots….

Ridiculous! He could see it now:
“Hey, how would you like to marry me? And by the way, I killed your father….”
He wouldn’t live his dream life with Kasey.

Yes, he’d lived a pretty good life, but aspects of it had been less than fair. Tonight, for example. He’d been sitting here, alone, browbeating himself yet again, knowing full well that he had no one but himself to blame for his solitary status.

Still, if he’d shown a little courage fifteen years ago, Al Delaney wouldn’t have died—at least, not on
that
night. Adam knew, even back then, that he’d pay for his moment of cowardice for the rest of his days. And if he needed proof of it, he only needed to look into his kitchen, where a gorgeous creature was humming as she prepared him a cup of tea.

He couldn’t afford to fall for her, no matter how cute and sweet she was, no matter how funny. If he did, well, eventually she’d find out he was responsible for her father’s death. And he’d rather die himself than have her hate him because of it.

Keep it casual, keep it friendly. She’d be gone in the morning and he’d probably never see her again. Not outside the confines of his own private thoughts, anyway….

“So,” he said in a calculatedly easygoing tone, “tell me the so-called long and boring story about how you got into the flower business.”

A
filled-to-the-brim steaming mug in each hand, Kasey trod slowly toward him. The tip of her tongue poked out from one corner of her mouth as she concentrated on every cautious step. Adam could think of just one word to describe her at that moment:
Cute.

Knees locked, she bent at the waist and carefully centered his mug on a coaster on the end table beside his chair. After depositing her own cup on the tile-topped coffee table, she flopped onto the couch.

“Whew,” she said on a sigh. “I’ve developed a whole new appreciation for waitresses.” One dainty forefinger indicated the hot brew. “That’s dangerous work!”

Chuckling, Adam lowered the recliner’s footrest, rested ankle on knee and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “You were about to tell me how you got into the flower business.”

Her laughter reminded Adam of the wind chimes that once hung outside his grandma’s kitchen window.

“I guess you’d have to say I just fell into it.”

Adam continued to watch, transfixed as she gestured with
small but clearly hardworking hands, her incredible green eyes flickering with wit as she smiled, pursed her lips, tucked in one corner of her mouth.

“‘Falling into it’…now
that,
” Adam interjected, “sounds dangerous.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “How so?”

“Well, look at those things—” He indicated the basket of cuttings. “Briars big enough to saddle, spears that could harpoon a Great White.” He met her eyes. “
I
sure wouldn’t want to ‘fall into’ any of that!”

She laughed again, and again Adam noticed the way the sound of it rang inside him, like the silvery note of a bell.
Get back on track,
he thought. “So how, exactly, does one ‘fall into’ floral design?”

Resting both elbows on her knees, Kasey leaned forward, puckered her lips and blew across the surface of her tea. “This stuff is hot enough to fog your glasses…if you were wearing any.”

He wondered when—
if
—she intended to tell him about her work; how she’d try to keep him distracted if she decided not to. Wondered
why
she’d want to keep something so everyday-ordinary from him. The only reason he wanted to know, really, was to prove to himself that what he’d done fifteen years ago hadn’t destroyed her.

She sat back suddenly and crossed her legs. “My shop is called Fleur Élégance, and—”

“
Your
shop?”

Wearing a proud little smile, Kasey nodded. “Couple of years ago, I paid off my mother’s mortgage. We’d always had this big shed out back, but I was never allowed in it. Dad always said, ‘You could poke an eye out in there.”’ She imitated a deep, growly voice. “Which was probably true. The thing was filled to overflowing with…
stuff.
”

Kasey laughed softly. “He used to call Mom a clutter-
bug.
That
was true, too.” Resting her head against the sofa’s back cushion, she continued. “Mom saved everything. Rusted tools, extension cords with bared wires, broken-down lawn mowers, bald tires, bent lawn chairs…a lifetime of junk.”

Adam thought he could listen to her talk, hours on end. She loved life, and it showed in every movement of her curvy little body, in every syllable that passed those well-shaped pink lips.

“Dad had been gone nearly ten years when I struck a bargain with Mom—I’d clean out the shed and set up a yard sale, and Mom could spend the proceeds in the bookstore.” Smiling, Kasey rolled her eyes. “The woman has more books than a public library! Anyway, she agreed to the deal, so I cleared everything out, installed new windows—”

He knew the answer to his next question even before he asked it. “Installed windows. Yourself?”

Her expression said,
Well, sure. Doesn’t everybody?

If he hadn’t made that promise to himself to keep a safe distance from her, Adam would have given her a hug—maybe more than just a hug—while trying to convince her that not everybody installs their own windows. Especially not pretty, petite girls.

“Once I’d put down a new floor and painted the walls, I had myself a right nice little place to do business.” She gave a nod. “Now
getting
the business,
that
was the hard part. At least, at first.”

She sat forward to take another sip of tea, a length of cinnamon hair falling over one shoulder when she did. She flipped it back, exposing the delicate creamy-white skin of her inner wrist, and dangly silver earrings.

He had a new word to describe her now:
Stunning.

Adam shook his head.
Snap out of it, man.
He couldn’t
deny how much he liked Kasey. Couldn’t deny how much he disliked what he was beginning to feel for her, either.

Which is
what?
he wondered.

He was attracted to her, to be sure. And what man wouldn’t be captivated by a gorgeous, green-eyed redhead with a knockout figure and the voice of an angel?

But there was more to it than that. So much more.

Somehow, being with Kasey these few hours had forced him to admit he didn’t like his solitary lifestyle. She hadn’t done it with smoke and mirrors. Hadn’t done it with feminine wiles. Rather, she’d made him see how much he yearned for love and companionship, simply by being, well, by being
Kasey.

During the past fifteen years, he’d probably looked at her picture a thousand times. Each time he’d seen that sweet, innocent face looking back at him, Adam had prayed she’d stay that way, forever. He’d likely said a thousand prayers for her, too; he may never know if all the heavenly requests made on her behalf had been met, but he could see, looking at her now, that
that
prayer, thankfully, had been answered.

Better get a grip, Thorne,
he reminded himself. He’d had no way of knowing it at the time, but when he made the choice to go along with Buddy’s prank all those years ago, he chose his destiny. His cowardice had been one of the reasons she’d lost her dad, and his throwing a little money at her family once a month hadn’t changed that.

He chalked up what he’d begun to feel for Kasey to guilt. Had to be some kind of cockeyed contrition, right, because what else could it be? They’d only known each other for a few hours.

Several times over the years, he’d considered digging deeper, finding out more about Kasey and her mom. But nothing he might have learned could replace Al Delaney, so why try? Protectiveness had spawned that idea—was it
also responsible for what he’d been feeling since he opened the door, saw her standing there, drenched and dripping and shaking like the last autumn leaf? Had he confused protectiveness for something deeper?

“How’s your tea?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Mechanically, he picked up the cup, took a sip. By now, it was cooler than he liked it. Fact was, he preferred coffee to tea, but he didn’t say so. “It’s good.”

“Sweet enough?”

On the rare occasions when he did drink tea, he used no sugar at all. But he’d have eaten the stuff raw, right off the spoon, if she’d asked him to. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

Then, more to get his mind off his roller-coaster emotions than for any other reason, he asked, “So how’d you get your first job?”

“Well…” She tucked stockinged feet under her. “A friend was getting married, and she had no money for a bouquet—for floral arrangements of any kind, for that matter. My dad always said I had a green thumb, that I was pretty good at arranging flowers from Mom’s garden….”

Her smile went from friendly to whimsical, telling Adam that one memory had conjured another.
I miss him still,
said the mellow look in her eyes.

She sat up straighter, cleared her throat. “Anyway, Claire ended up getting ten wedding gifts from me—” One finger at a time popped from her closed fists as she counted: “The bride’s bouquet, one for her maid of honor, the groom and best man’s boutonnieres, mother of the bride and groom corsages, and vases for the front of the church.”

Adam nodded. “Let me guess…and all the nice ladies who attended the wedding saw your pretty flowers, and when
their
daughters got married…”

Kasey clapped her hands together. “Exactly! Word of
mouth was all it took. Before I knew it, I had more orders than I could handle.”

“Good news travels fast.”

“Then I got smart.”

He blinked. “Smart, how?”

“My dad used to say ‘why work hard when you can work smart?’ I didn’t figure out what he meant until I’d been in business a year or so.” Staring straight ahead, she lowered her voice, as if what she was about to say was a state secret: “He died when I was just twelve, and he had a
lot
of ‘sayings,’ so there was a lot to figure out.” Facing him again, she continued in her normal tone of voice. “Anyway, I finally realized I could make more money, a
lot
more money, if my arrangements were b-i-g.”

Scratching his head, Adam said, “I’m following you…I think.”

“Well, at first, all my clients were individuals. They wanted flowers for weddings, to decorate their homes and vacation properties. Small arrangements, you know? I was barely covering my overhead costs.”

Eyes wide, she clasped her hands under her chin and whispered, “And then I saw a huge urn of flowers at one of those offbeat art galleries downtown. It hit me like
that!
” She snapped her fingers. “What I needed was a whole new kind of customer.
Businesspeople
instead of…regular people.”

“So that’s where the shopping malls and department stores came in,” Adam said.

“And financial institutions, and legal firms…any company that wants to set a certain atmosphere for their customers and clients.”

Adam added
smart
and
savvy
to his quickly growing list of reasons to like Kasey Delaney. “You’ve accomplished quite a lot in your twenty-six, er, almost twenty-seven
years.”
Imagine what she could have become…if she’d had a father to nurture and guide her,
he tacked on.

“It hasn’t been all that much, really.”

Even in the dim lamplight, he could see that she was blushing. He didn’t understand why she’d feel self-conscious about all she’d accomplished, and said so.

Her voice was soft and sad when she repeated, “It just…hasn’t been much.”

Adam wanted to know more, so much more, about this lovely, talented young woman. Wanted to know what put the sadness in her voice, dimmed the light in her eyes. He’d always made his monetary deliveries in the dead of night, so had no way of knowing if she’d taken a husband, if she had children. Might she be available…?

He’d stayed on the fringes of her life, quite by choice. Every month, like clockwork, he dropped a cash-filled envelope into the mailbox of the house where she’d grown up. He hadn’t felt right about poking his nose into other areas of the Delaneys’ lives. But now, hearing that a home of her own and a successful business didn’t seem like much of an achievement to Kasey, he couldn’t help but wonder what her dreams and goals had been.

His
goal hadn’t changed in fifteen years: Fill in for Al Delaney in the only way he knew how…with money.

“I’m going to warm up my tea,” she said. “Care for a refill?”

He shook his head. “You said you lost your dad when you were twelve?”

She nodded over her shoulder, and he winced inwardly as a wary expression darkened her pretty features. What did she know? he wondered. Had the look been prompted by something she suspected…about
him?

He thought of that old saying— Just because you’re
paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you—and wondered again if her visit here had been happenstance…

…or part of a plan.

And speaking of plans…

“Your father must have planned well for you and your mom.”

Brow furrowed, she gave him a sidelong glance. “Planned well?”

“Well, you seem to have done pretty well for yourself. House that’s free and clear of bank attachments, a successful business… Did you go to college, Kasey?”

“Sure did. Graduated the University of Maryland with a BS in business administration.”

“Well, it’s not as expensive as Harvard, but the tuition sure ain’t free.”

Her frown deepened. “True.” Kasey perched on the arm of the sofa, wrapped both hands around her mug. “My tuition wasn’t paid with funds from my dad’s estate, if that’s what you’re implying. He was a good, hardworking man, but he wasn’t rich. Not by a long shot.”

She focused on some unknown spot behind him. “We had bills, lots of them. In fact, we found bills we didn’t even know we had until after he died.”

Clearing her throat, she stood, walked around to the front of the couch and sat down. “Which is why, first chance I got, I wrote a check to that mortgage company.”

“Sorry,” Adam said. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

She met his eyes and sent him a smile so warm, so sweet, it made his heart ache. Oh, to have a woman like this…so kind and nurturing, so resourceful and dedicated…for his very own!

“You’re not prying, exactly,” she said offhandedly.

“So you made it through college on scholarships, then?”

That made her laugh. “No. I did okay in the grades department, but not okay enough to earn scholarships.”

That surprised him, a fact that must have shown on his face.

“Oh, I think if I’d had the luxury of time to study, time to turn in detailed reports, if I’d had a dad at my elbow, making sure I’d dotted all the
I’
s and crossed all the
T’
s, I probably could have done better in school.”

Shame and remorse thudded in Adam’s chest.

“I had to work two, sometimes three, part-time jobs to help out. Mom did what she could, but she’s never been particularly healthy….”

There had never been any indication that Mrs. Delaney was anything but hale and hearty. “What’s wrong with her?”

Kasey shrugged. “Little of this, little of that. My grandmother always blamed it on self-pity. Me? I call it loneliness.”

Mortified, Adam scrubbed both hands over his face. If the woman was lonely, there could be but one reason.