Sweet Talk Read online

  No, not all, she thought sadly. There was still one buried in the deepest recess of her psyche. She’d blurted everything else last night—why not that as well? Anguish struck again when she thought that she had not only forced Reed to listen to her story, she’d then made love with him! What must he think of her?

  Val got into the shower, where her tears mingled with the water, cleansing her skin. Nothing could cleanse her soul, though; she knew she was never going to be the same.

  Even though, damn him, it was all Reed’s fault! Why had he fed her brandy last night, if not to loosen her inhibitions?

  But that was the bind, wasn’t it? He’d supplied the brandy, but he hadn’t forced her to drink it. And had she really drunk enough to completely forget the strict standards by which she had lived since her move to Rumor?

  Neither had he forced her to make love, to kiss him and hold him and touch him as though she would never get enough of him. Oh, the things she’d done with him. The things he’d done to her…again and again. And she had loved every moment of it, with her last clear memory before falling asleep being snuggling her backside into the curve of his warm, manly body.

  “Damn…damn,” she whispered, while tears streamed down her face.

  Drying off a short time later, she frowned and pondered Reed’s remarks about flowers and a card. He had to have meant the bouquet and card he’d brought to her, even though he’d said that she had sent him flowers. His tongue—or brain—must have gotten twisted, or some darn thing, because if he had actually received flowers from a woman, they hadn’t come from her.

  Of course, there was probably more than one woman hot on his trail!

  Physically refreshed from her shower, and knowing that nothing would ever heal the emotional bruising she herself had caused last night, Val decided to put the whole thing from her mind and attempt to accomplish something productive today. Yes, she would still like to hide in bed for a few months—even a few days would be good—but it was a ludicrous wish and impossible.

  She got dressed.

  Tag drove Reed home so he could get his pickup. Reed also had a snappy little sports car in his garage, but it wasn’t sports car weather. No telling where the day might take him, and the pickup had four-wheel drive.

  During the drive from the cabin the two brothers had talked about the storm. Then Tag had mentioned Reed’s crunched vehicle.

  “That tree falling exactly where it did was really something, Reed. The wind must have been two or three times more powerful out there than it was in town.”

  “That tree was destined to topple,” Reed said. “It was just a matter of time.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “When the people who built Val’s cabin cut through that hill to make the driveway, they damaged the roots of that tree. I checked it out, Tag, and the roots—those I could see—were black and soggy, obviously long dead. That pine was still standing by the grace of God, and when a gust of wind hit it, it went over.”

  “You know, Jim, Jinni and I were looking over the mess of the accident before you came outside and it appeared to us as though the tree would have hit the cabin if your rig hadn’t been parked where it was.”

  “Yes,” Reed said quietly. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Darn good thing you weren’t still behind the wheel.” Tag sent his brother a glance. “You could have been as mangled as your SUV.”

  “Timing is everything, isn’t it?”

  “It sure counts for a lot. So, how’d you and Dr. Fairchild get along?”

  Reed delayed answering, but finally said in a quiet voice, “I don’t want to talk about Val, Tag.”

  His brother nodded. “You never have talked about your women. What made me think you’d start now?”

  Reed made no reply. He wished he could think of Val as “his woman,” and during the night she had been. For a while, anyhow. This morning he didn’t know what to think. She had awakened angry and resentful, and he didn’t understand that.

  He sighed inwardly. Maybe he never would understand Val…even though he was nuts about her. And maybe he should hike his butt to a shrink and get professional help. Why in hell would he fall for a woman with more problems than anyone else he’d ever known?

  Was that Val’s drawing power? God help him if his lifelong penchant for helping the underdog was now choosing him a mate that any sane man would run from with the speed of a lightning bolt.

  Jinni spotted Michael’s bicycle at the sheriff’s office. He’d been easy enough to find, but she decided to talk to him so she could tell Max that she’d seen him with her own eyes and he was fine. She walked into the building and smiled at the deputy on duty.

  “Hello,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I’m Jinni Cantrell. I’ve been here with my husband a few times, but today I’m here alone. Is Michael Cantrell visiting his uncle?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

  “Well, would you mind asking him to come out here and talk to me for a minute?”

  The deputy said, “Wouldn’t mind a bit,” and got up from his desk. He disappeared through the door that Jinni knew led to the cells and the visitor’s room. In a minute Michael came through the same door, with the deputy right behind him.

  “Thank you,” Jinni said to the deputy, then turned and said to her stepson, “Hi, Michael. Can we talk a little?”

  “Uh, guess so. What about?”

  “Let’s go outside.”

  Michael followed her out. “Jinni, is something wrong? With Dad, I mean?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that your dad is very busy today and he asked me to…to…” Jinni hesitated. Michael was an adorable, almost-sixteen-year-old boy with an overload of confidence that might or might not be pure bluff. Jinni adored him, and she was getting to know him a little better each day. She knew that he would not take kindly to her checking up on him, which was what she’d been about to tell him she was doing, at his father’s request.

  She switched gears. “Your dad asked me to let you know that I got back from the mountains safe and sound…with my sister, also safe and sound.”

  “Really?”

  Jinni smiled in an attempt to allay his obvious skepticism. “I think he thought you might be worrying about me. Anyhow, I’m back in town and now I can tell him that all three of the Cantrells are just fine.”

  “Uncle Guy’s not fine. Jinni, if they convict him and he has to spend the rest of his life in jail for something he didn’t do, I think he’ll just give up and…and die.”

  Jinni’s heart ached for the boy. “Your dad is doing everything he can to see that doesn’t happen, Michael. In fact, he’s following a rather murky but sort of interesting lead right now that might unearth some information about the day the fire got started.”

  Michael’s downcast expression vanished. “What lead? Tell me what’s going on, Jinni. Please!”

  Jinni became concerned that she had given the boy false hope. She tried to backtrack. “It…it’s so iffy, Michael. I really shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  But Michael wouldn’t let her get away with that. “I have a right to know if there’s even a sliver of a chance of getting Uncle Guy out of this mess. Tell me what Dad’s working on, Jinni.”

  She studied the very adult expression in Michael’s vivid blue eyes. He had outgrown childhood recently—since his uncle had been arrested, to be completely accurate. He was a handsome, smart and sometimes sweet young man. Right now he looked far more determined than sweet, but he was the child Jinni had never had and she loved him, whatever his mood.

  “All right,” she said huskily. “Briefly, it’s this. An elderly man was discovered wandering around in the storm. A deputy took him to the clinic. He’s disoriented. Doesn’t even seem to know his own name. But he keeps mumbling things about the fire. His clothes weren’t adequate for winter weather and—”

  “Jinni! He’s Old Man Jackson! The people who knew him wondered what had happened to h
im when the fire destroyed Logan’s Hill. He had a house up there in the woods, and it was burned to the ground. But no one ever found his body. It’s him, I know it is!”

  “But, honey, if his house was gone, how did he survive all that time? What did he eat, where did he sleep?”

  “He knows things we don’t, Jinni. I used to ride my bike on some of the trails on Logan’s Hill, and I ran into him a couple of times. He was leery of people coming around, but we talked. I would bet anything it’s him, and what if he saw what really happened that day? Jinni, I gotta go to the clinic and see that old guy for myself.”

  Jinni’s heart sank. Her big mouth had gotten her in trouble more times than she cared to remember, and it seemed that she still didn’t know when to shut up. Now Michael was all worked up over something that could be nothing but wishful thinking. No one could survive for months and months on nothing, in an environment that could be as cruel as it was beautiful. Especially not an elderly person.

  “Are…are you going to tell your uncle about the man at the clinic?” she asked, hoping she didn’t look as worried as she felt.

  Michael hesitated a moment. Then he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet. I’ll see how it turns out first.”

  Jinni breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She was so proud of Michael. The sensibility and maturity of his decision far exceeded what most people expected from a boy his age. But he was anxious. “Are you going to the clinic, Jinni?” he asked. “I’ll ride with you, if you are, but I can take my bike if there’s something else you have to do.” He went over to the deputy. “I have to leave. Would you tell my uncle I said goodbye and that I’ll be back later on?”

  Still regretting the small but powerful uproar she’d inadvertently caused by once again speaking out of turn, Jinni listened to the deputy agreeing to Michael’s request. Then the boy flew to the door, proving his intent to get to the clinic as fast as was physically possible.

  Jinni followed him out. “Leave your bike here,” she said. “I’ll drive.”

  Jim and Estelle left for the day around two. Jim had been staying abreast of the weather forecasts and told Val that the area was in for more bad weather. “There’s a whole series of storm systems rolling in from Canada and the Pacific Northwest,” he said. “Forecasters are predicting another blizzard within ten to twelve hours.”

  For the first time since the first snowflake fell, Val was glad she was back in town instead of at the cabin. She wasn’t happy that her weekend had been ruined, and she wasn’t enough of a hypocrite to pretend that she was, but it was only sensible to feel some relief over not being stranded in ten feet of snow.

  After the Worths had gone, Val puttered in the Animal Hospital, checking on the pets in the Dog House and the Cat House and generally staying busy with small jobs that Jim wouldn’t even notice. He was great with the bigger chores and willing to do anything Val asked, and she appreciated both him and Estelle more than she could say. In fact, now that she was so used to having them around, the mere thought of them deciding to retire again—this time from her employ—gave her an awfully empty feeling. She decided that she really must let them know more often how much she cared for them as friends, not just as employees.

  But keeping her feelings locked and sealed was a habit hard to break. She’d gone a little crazy last night with Reed, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what had caused her to throw caution to the winds and talk and talk and…talk. And after that….

  “Dear God,” she whispered as she walked from the Cat House to her office. The things she’d done with that man! In truth, she didn’t know what hurt her most today—the fact that she had bared most of her secrets or that she’d bared her body so wantonly!

  She forced herself to do some paperwork, then felt her eyes getting heavy. She hadn’t slept enough last night and it was catching up with her. Moving from her desk chair to the small sofa she’d had installed specifically for catnaps, she actually groaned at the pleasure lying down and shutting her eyes gave her. She knew she would worry again when she woke up, but for now, she had to indulge in some blessed sleep.

  She heard nothing and was aware of nothing for over two hours. She didn’t dream, she barely breathed, and when she finally opened her eyes twilight had settled in. The room was gray and shadowy, and at first she didn’t realize that she wasn’t alone.

  She stretched, yawned and sat up. It was then, at that precise moment, that she saw Reed Kingsley. He was seated in one of the chairs she kept near her desk for visitors, only he had moved it closer to the sofa. Had he been watching her sleep?

  Her face burned. Had he no scruples, no respect for a woman’s privacy?

  “How long have you been here?” she asked in a cold, harsh voice.

  “About an hour,” Reed said with slightly upturned lips. It was more of a hint of a smile than the real thing, because he knew now that he could never count on Val’s mood. She had looked like an angel in sleep, but the present gleam in her eyes could hardly be described as angelic.

  “You sat there and watched me sleep for an hour? There is something seriously wrong with you!” Val got to her feet. “It’s almost dark. Why didn’t you turn on a light?”

  “And wake you? Why would I be that unkind?” Reed, too, stood. “You were tired and needed to rest.”

  Val sniffed. “I’m going to lock up and go to the house. Do you mind leaving now?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. May I go to the house with you? Val, we really need to talk about last night. Our attitudes are miles apart and unnecessarily conflicting. Honey, I don’t want any conflict between us. I want—”

  She stopped him with an abrupt movement of her hand. “I don’t want to hear it!”

  “Val, please don’t do this. Don’t you have a glimmer of understanding for what we could have together? Please let me go home with you. I promise to do nothing that offends you. I only want to talk this thing through.”

  She stood still and studied the sincerity in his eyes, in his stance. He couldn’t be in love with her, he just couldn’t! She wasn’t ready for love; she might never be ready!

  She had to bring this whole disturbing affair to a screeching halt, and it wasn’t going to happen if she kept refusing to talk to him.

  “All right, fine,” she said flatly. “You can come to the house. But the only thing we’re going to do is talk, do you understand?”

  “Perfectly.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You go on to the house,” Val told Reed. “The back door isn’t locked, and I have a couple of things to do here before I can leave.”

  “I could wait.”

  “No!” She took a sharp breath and then spoke more calmly. “Please, go over there now. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Is Estelle at the house?”

  “She and Jim went home several hours ago.”

  Reed came close to smiling, even though he had absolutely no faith in Val appreciating the effort. “Then no one will bring out the shotgun if I just walk in.”

  “I don’t even own a shotgun.”

  “Or a sense of humor,” Reed added. But he was still nearly smiling, and anyone seeing his face would have known he was teasing.

  Anyone but Val, that is. She figured he was trying to get a smile out of her. “If you’re planning on talking utter nonsense during our discussion, we might as well forget the whole thing.”

  In truth, she wished with heart and soul that he would flippantly say, “You’re absolutely right,” and walk out laughing…or even angry. The only subject he could possibly want to talk about was their atrocious behavior last night, and thinking about it made her feel ill. What would verbalizing her overwhelming deluge of self-disgust do to her poor, already roiling stomach?

  But she had danced to the music last night, and the piper always had to be paid, in one way or another. She would take her lumps and convince this man that however inane and inappropriate her conduct last night, it had been an aberration
and would never be repeated. Deep down she feared that he was really back for a repeat performance of amorous activities, and it was not going to happen.

  Val didn’t breathe normally until Reed accepted her preference of finishing up at the hospital by herself, and left her alone. Then, experiencing enormous relief, she leaned weakly against a wall and sucked in huge gulps of air, attempting to put herself back on an even keel.

  Not that she’d been all that “even” before Reed’s arrival…or, rather, before she’d passed out on the sofa. She had messed up big time last night and she was going to pay for it, make no mistake. The knowledge burned like a small flame in every cell of her body. One always paid; the only unknown in that harsh fact of life was the type of payment fate would demand.

  It took Val almost twenty minutes to pull herself together enough to face Reed. Locking up took about three minutes, brushing her hair and grimacing at her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror took another five minutes. The rest of the time was spent pacing.

  She suffered the agonies of hell while working up the courage to get this unholy meeting over with, and finally, finally, she was able to force herself through the door, make sure it was locked behind her and take the steps that brought her to her own back door.

  Sucking in air as though she had to stock up because there was none in the house, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

  “Michael, are you positive? Son, I mean really positive.”

  “He looks a lot different, Dad. He’s so thin and his hair and beard are a foot longer.”

  “A foot longer?”

  “Well, maybe not a foot, but he’s a lot hairier than when I last saw him.”

  Jinni had been listening to the conversation between Max and Michael. They were both so hopeful that the poor old mystery guy at the Family Clinic might be Mr. Jackson, a hermit or recluse who people believed must have died in the Logan’s Hill fire, even though no unidentified human remains had been found.