The Harder They Fall

Eleven

Two hours later darkness had fallen. Hunter still sat on the bench in front of the house, waiting. Fretting. Worrying. Seething, but not at Trisha.

Celia had left, but only after exacting a solemn promise that he would call her when Trisha returned. There’d been a heavy warning in her voice, one that he understood all too well.

She expected him to make it all better. The responsibility didn’t daunt him; he was more than used to NASA and his family expecting miracles from him. “Call Hunter, he’ll fix anything” seemed to be a motto the people who knew him adopted.

But this was different. Trisha had no family or work ties to him. She certainly hadn’t asked for his help, had in fact done everything in her power to avoid doing so. Which somehow only made the compulsion to solve the problem all the stronger.

But what exactly should he do?

She should have been back by now. Something had happened to her, something horrible. She hadn’t been thinking clearly, she’d been riding recklessly.

His fault, dammit, his fault. He should have gone after her immediately, should have kept her here and forced her to talk about the house. Instead, he’d let her leave. If something had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

With the intention of calling the police and every hospital within twenty miles, he stood and walked to the end of the porch.

Then he went completely still as relief flooded through him.

The wheels on her bike squeaked; he knew this because she often rode it to the store and he could hear her coming from a quarter of a mile away. He heard her now.

The minute she turned into the driveway, he was there, holding the bike as she got off. Her hair looked like an explosion in a mattress factory, wild, long strands everywhere. Her eyes seemed huge in her pale and drawn face. Huge and red.

Dammit, she’d been crying. His gut jerked. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Her shoulders automatically squared against him, making him regret his words. Why didn’t he just say he had been worried sick? That he cared what happened to her and wished she hadn’t run off? Women liked that sort of thing, he remembered belatedly, then wondered why the hell he was worried about pleasing her. He was mad as hell at what she’d put him through. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” With that unusually cool, distant tone, she turned from him and walked toward the outside stairs.

“Wait.”

She didn’t, but he wasn’t surprised. He was beginning to know her better than he’d planned to, and she was stubborn as hell. With three easy strides, he caught up with her and gently took her arm, turning her to face him. “Please, Trisha. I want to talk to you.”

“No.”

One simple word, yet with layers of meaning behind it. Mostly panic. He understood some of that now, thanks to Celia, and his fury choked him. He wanted, quite badly, to go find her uncle and show him exactly what he thought of his child-rearing techniques. Though Hunter had never used physical force to prove anything, he found he wanted to do so now, quite violently. But that wouldn’t help Trisha.

“Come inside,” he said, trying to propel her resisting body toward the house.

She dug in her heels and he swore he could see steam coming from her ears. Frantically, he searched his mind for an incentive – women liked incentives, didn’t they? “I’ll make you dinner,” he offered quickly. “You must be starving after all that riding.”

She looked at him as if he were mad, and in truth, he felt that way. “No,” she said.

“Trisha, I -”

“I’m going upstairs now,” she said carefully, through her teeth. “I want you to go away and leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” he said with regret.

“Yes, you can!” she cried, pulling her arm free. “Just go on with your cozy little neat life, the way you always do. And leave me a-alone!”

Her voice cracked on the last word, breaking his heart, and he reached for her again. She tried to evade him, and for a moment they stood grappling under the glare of the porch light.

Hunter heard the footsteps first. A couple, out for an evening stroll, watched them curiously as they passed, obviously drawn by the raised voices.

“Go away,” Trisha whispered to him in a hiss as she raised a hand and smiled at their audience.

“Not until we talk,” he said between his teeth.

The next-door neighbor chose that moment to pull up his driveway, the headlights of his car illuminating them. Trisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

In that flash of time Hunter could see her clearly, the paleness of her usually flushed skin, the near translucence of her eyelids, the faint purple circles beneath them. Sick, he lifted his hands from her shoulders and sighed.

Mutinously, she stared at him, looking so damn vulnerable it made him ache for her. “Okay, that’s it.” As gently as he possibly could, he took her hand and tugged her close. “Inside. Your place or mine?”

“Not with you. Not again.” Her jaw tightened and she tried to pull away, but he held firm.

“To talk, Trisha.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“I realize that,” he said conversationally, pulling her as nicely as he could toward the stairs. No, he decided, changing direction in midstride, not her place. Too many memories for her there. He changed directions, heading to his front door.

“If you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream,” she warned.

She would, too. His heart aching, for he hated what he had to do, he stopped and turned to face her. “Go ahead, it might make you feel better.”

“You have no idea what will make me feel better. I -”

“I know why you’re upset, Trisha. I know why you flipped out about my selling this place. We’ve got to talk about it.”

“No, no we don’t.” She took a deep breath, visibly tried to pull herself together. “Look, I’m sorry about tonight, okay?” Now she smiled, and he could only call it such because she showed her teeth.

“I’ve been working a lot,” she said. “And not sleeping as much as I should… the usual working-girl stuff, that’s all. I’m just cranky.” She backed up several steps.

“You are not just cranky,” he said. “You had a panic attack.”

Now she stepped off his porch, still walking backward. “It’s all in how you perceive it,” she told him. “And I -”

“Did you hear me, Trisha?” he asked her softly, not chasing her. “I said I know. I know what’s wrong with you.”

“Yeah. I need to go to bed.” Nervous energy practically rose off her in waves. A bubble of laughter escaped. “Alone,” she added swiftly.

Time to play the ace. “Trisha.”

“Good night -”

“You moved eighteen times in eighteen years.”

Turning dead white, she stopped short, nearly tripping. “What – what did you say?” she whispered.

“You were forced to wear the god-awful secondhand clothes your aunt purchased for you. Ugly clothes she purposely bought too big because you matured so early. She needed to make certain you were so unattractive, no one would look twice at you. She was afraid you’d become easy otherwise.” God, the expression on her face killed him. As he thought this she whirled, poised to run.

“It didn’t matter, though,” he said hoarsely to her stiff, proud back. “Because you just stuck out all the more. Moving so constantly didn’t help.”

Trisha froze, so still she could have been a statue.

“When you’d cry at night, your aunt would spray holy water on you and command you to stop being evil and wanting material things.”

Her shoulders hunched defensively, and he longed to hold her, but he couldn’t give in to the urge, not yet. “They stopped giving you a separate bedroom, so you couldn’t escape, making you sleep in the living room where anyone could see you. You never had even a small space you could call your own.”

Until now, he thought, with a sharp pang of regret.

Trisha still didn’t move.

“College was good,” he continued quietly. “You stayed in the dorm, though you had to work night and day to come up with the tuition money since you had no family willing to help. Directly after graduation, you came here, mortgaged yourself to the gills, and bought your store. Your aunt and uncle nearly had heart failure, but you haven’t had to move since.”

“You realize, of course, I’m going to have to kill Celia now,” she said finally, in a voice so low he almost missed it.

Even now, in a moment of deep anguish, she could resort to sarcasm. He guessed it was her only defense. “She was worried sick. Now I know why.”

“Lots of kids have it worse.”

Not many, not even him. “What you’ve done with your life is pretty terrific,” he said, daring to come up close behind her. “Running a successful business -”

She let out a short laugh. “You haven’t seen the books.”

“You’ve made something of your life,” he said softly.

“Stop it.” Slowly, she turned to face him, her dark eyes shimmering with so much pain it stole his breath. “Just stop it. So you know why I’m so attached to this place. Big deal. Doesn’t help much in the face of your plans… and don’t you dare tell me you’re going to change them because of what Celia told you. I wouldn’t believe you.”

He had no idea what to say or do next, and the helpless feeling ate at him.

“I’m going in,” she said quietly, crossing her arms over her middle. “I’m cold and I want to change.” With a quiet dignity that tugged at his heart, she attempted to smooth down her hair as she walked past him, her chin high. The forest-green suit she wore was made of a clingy material that emphasized each graceful swing of her hips. Watching her walk caused the predictable male physical response, but for Hunter it went far deeper than that.

She dressed the way she did because for the first time in her life, she was free to do as she pleased. Free to wear clothes that fit her body, free to pick and choose what she did with her time and with whom. So much about her suddenly made sense now, and for the first time since she’d literally fallen into his arms weeks ago in his bathroom, he felt as if he knew her, understood her.

“Celia’s dead,” she was muttering as she moved. “Dead.” Then: “Gossip with her again, Dr. Adams, and I’ll have to kill you too,” she called over her shoulder.

She already was killing him, but it was a slow death. “I guess our talk is over.”

She lifted a hand and kept going. “Good guess.”

“You can’t avoid me forever,” he said.

“I can try.”

“Trisha -”

“No.” She stopped abruptly, her back still to him. “I… can’t do this,” she whispered.

He moved up behind her, careful not to touch. It was hard, when he yearned to do just that. “Can’t do what?”

“This.” Still not facing him, she gestured wildly, which he took to mean him, this, that, everything.

“I hate what you know about me,” she said, tipping her head way back and studying the sky. The ends of her hair drifted across the small of her back. The smooth white column of her throat drew him. So did the plunging neckline of her trim jacket. And though the last thing she needed at that moment was an aroused male, it was exactly what she got.

“I hate what I know, too, because it makes me ache to go back and fix it all for you. But I can’t, Trisha. It’s done, and you’re grown. But I’m not sorry I know,” he murmured. “I can’t be, when now I can understand so much about you.”

“Don’t you see?” she asked, turning to him. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You know everything about me and I know next to nothing about you. It makes me feel at a disadvantage.”

Which she also hated. Well, he understood that well enough. He wished he could just do as she obviously wished he would – leave her alone. But for some reason, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her go. Nor could he draw closer. “I’d never use what I know to hurt you. Never, Trisha.”

Her mouth tightened. “Soft talk won’t get me to break the lease.”

“I didn’t mean -”

She started walking toward the stairs again. Hell. “Trisha, please. Come back.”

“Stay out of my life, Hunter,” she said unevenly. “I mean it.” But she didn’t. Good Lord, she didn’t. More than anything, as irrational as it seemed, she wanted him to hold her, to wrap those wonderful arms around her and never let go.

“Trisha.”

The way he said her name had her eyes stinging. But she didn’t slow down, couldn’t.

She’d gotten to the bottom step when he said, “God, Trisha, you’re tearing me apart.”

That makes two of us, she thought, faltering slightly before regaining her footing. Definitely two of us.

Without another word or glance, she climbed the stairs and went directly to her bedroom, where she stripped down, dove under a blanket, and covered her face with a pillow.

She refused to cry.

The next morning Trisha stretched, but without much satisfaction. She hadn’t slept a wink, and it didn’t take a genius to know why. She’d told Hunter to stay out of her life. Would he listen? Had she meant it?

Of course she had. But goodness, it shouldn’t hurt so much, should it?

Bravely, she checked the front yard. No “For Sale” sign appeared. But she didn’t allow herself a sigh of relief, for it would be short-lived.

It was only a matter of time, she told herself, and tried not to panic. It couldn’t be as bad as it sounded. She might find another place she liked just as much. Maybe she’d get used to the idea.

Then she tried not to think about Hunter, and how her feelings for him complicated everything. And how mortified she felt over what Celia had told him. Celia. She’d managed to avoid her so-called friend’s calls last night because she intended to have it out with her in person.

But she’d never be able to face Hunter again.

Suddenly she wanted to take back those words she’d flung at him. Anger and humiliation had caused her to say something she hadn’t meant. If only he weren’t so perceptive, so startlingly intuitive… such a damn good kisser.

After showering, she headed down the stairs, dressed for work in a purple lamb’s wool sweater and a matching short suede skirt – yet another of Celia’s designs. Because of the sleepless night, she was running later than she would have liked, and she hurried, head down, her shoes clunking noisily on the wooden stairs.

Just her own dumb luck, she supposed, that she should run smack into a set of warm, solid arms.

She squealed in surprise.

Hunter caught her barreling weight with the grace with which he did everything. The tentative, disarming smile he sent her turned her heart to mush.

She barely checked the urge to throw her arms around his neck. Instead, she stepped back and smoothed her skirt. He followed the movement with his gaze, then cleared his throat, his smile fading.

In the time it took her to blink, he’d responded to her coolness and had distanced himself as well. “How are you this morning?” he asked, polite as ever.

Her jangled emotions made it difficult to respond. So did the carefully masked concern on his face. He looked mouthwateringly perfect in his sport jacket and fitted trousers. She’d never seen a man wear clothes quite so well. “How am I?” It wasn’t in her to be less than honest. “Embarrassed,” she admitted, deciding to keep the confused and aroused part to herself.

“Don’t be,” he said softly. “We all have something in our past.”

“Yeah, but we don’t all have that little something aired out in the open.”

“Is that what’s bugging you most?” he asked in astonishment. “That I know?”

“That,” she answered evenly, “and the fact that I don’t know much about your past.”

“It’s really boring,” he said, surprising her by reaching out to touch her cheek softly. “And anyway, I’ve got to go, I’ve got a meeting.”

“Oh, well, then.” Trisha smiled and tried not to be hurt about his lack of interest in revealing a thing about himself. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” He tossed his keys in the air, catching them easily. She recognized the gesture as a nervous one and wondered what the stoic Dr. Adams could possibly be nervous about.

“Could we… get together tonight?” he asked, unusually hesitant.

A date. Well, finally! He’d completely forgiven and forgotten she’d ordered him out of her life. Now, if she could just be so lucky as to have him not discuss her past or sell the house, she was home free. “That would be nice,” she said in a huge understatement, wondering frantically what she would wear, where he would take her, what they would do. If he’d kiss her again. “I’d love that, actually,” she blurted out loud without meaning to.

“Good,” he said with some relief, obviously completely unaware of where her thoughts had led her. Good thing she didn’t blush easily. “Because we didn’t finish our discussion last night… We have things to resolve.”

“To resolve,” she repeated slowly, her euphoria fading as understanding dawned.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you by putting the house up for sale,” he continued quietly. “That’s the last thing I want to do, but -”

“You want to talk.”

“Yes. Talk.”

Not a date, she thought. All he wanted was to finish their talk – the talk she had no intention of finishing. Oh, she was an idiot. Such an idiot, in fact, she had to laugh. It was that or cry, and crying wasn’t even an option. Not with Hunter standing there looking at her as if she were a basket case.

“I’ll be home around six-thirty,” he started, then broke off abruptly at her darkening expression. “Is that a bad time?”

Oh, the man was a prize. A Ph.D. in whatever it was he did in space, but he didn’t know the first thing about women. “For a discussion?” she asked sweetly, her hands on her hips. “Yes, actually, Dr. Adams, it is. If you’ll excuse me…” Annoyed at herself, and more hurt than she wanted to admit, she brushed past him and headed toward her car.

He followed her, his brow furrowed in befuddlement. “What is a good time?” he wanted to know.

At her car, she fumbled through her purse for her keys. Why was it she could never find them when she wanted to make a dramatic exit? “I’m not really sure.”

He straightened and gave her a long look, as if he’d just figured out she was out of sorts. “Why is that?”

“Well, because I don’t run my life on a schedule as you seem to.” Darn it, where were her keys?

“Trisha,” he said softly, turning her to him. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing -” she started, but he shook his head sharply. “Nothing and everything and I don’t know,” she said, exhaling painfully. “Oh, God. Fine. I thought – I thought you were asking me out.”

“On a date?” He looked startled.

“Yeah. How ridiculous, huh?” She pushed at him, useless when the man stood solid as a wall. “Please, just go to work.”

He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You thought I was asking you out.” He marveled, shaking his head at himself. Then he looked at her, his eyes deep and spilling over with laughter and affection. “I didn’t realize you would accept.”

“Didn’t realize -” She clamped her mouth shut to keep from sputtering. What did he think after the other night, that she let every man who saved her from a fire touch her like that?

“The other night,” he said carefully. “Before the fire department came, I told you we couldn’t do this. You said -”

“I know what I said.” For tonight, she’d told him. And fool that all men were, he’d believed her. “I wasn’t asking you to marry me, Hunter. Just a date.”

“I know. I’m sorry, just forget -”

“Go to work, Hunter, you’re safe from me. Just stop looking at me.”

He didn’t stop, he only moved closer.

She backed up. “Don’t touch me, either,” she warned when he reached for her, suddenly grinning a little. “And stop laughing at me.”

“Is that all?” he asked with a straight face. “Don’t look at you, don’t touch you, and don’t, for heaven’s sake, laugh at you?”

“That’s right.” Good Lord, she sounded ridiculous, but false pride refused to let her take back her words. “I can’t think when you do any of those things.”

His lips twitched and she folded her arms over her middle. “I mean it.”

“Of course you do,” he murmured, leaning close to plant his lips on hers. It rendered her dumb, so he took advantage and did it a second time, wetter, deeper, with far more hunger and heat.

“I said don’t look at me,” she whispered when she could breathe again.

“I didn’t,” he whispered back, his eyes laughing now. “I had my eyes closed. And I didn’t touch you either.” Guilelessly, he lifted his hands. “See?”

No, he hadn’t had to touch her. Not when her traitorous body had leaned of its own accord against his long, harder one. “Go away, Hunter.”

“I’ll see you tonight, Trisha,” he whispered, and slid his lips over hers once again in a light kiss that shimmered with promise and passion, before turning and walking away. “We’ll make it a date.”

He whistled as he confidently strode off, not bothering to wait and see whether she would accept his offer. She guessed he knew her better than she wanted to admit. He hadn’t waited, because he knew she’d say yes.

She frowned and rubbed her chest where it pounded excitedly from just a simple kiss.

Damn him and damn her, but she wanted another.