All of Me (19 page)

“That’s understandable.”

“It’s pathetic. Trying to force myself to love someone.”

“Jillian?”

“Yes?” She looked over at him again.

Tuck’s smile was genuine, even though his eyes were tinged with the pain he was trying to hide. “It’s okay. You didn’t know
he was married. You’re not a terrible person.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel that way.”

“You’re not,” he reiterated.

“Then Blake dies and the mayor appoints this same guy—the guy I had the affair with—as the new district attorney.”

“Shit.”

“You can say that again. How could I stay there and work for him?”

“You couldn’t.”

“I didn’t. I quit. Then I find out about Blake’s will, about this place, and I take it as a sign I’m supposed to be here.”

There was an awkward pause in the conversation. Jillian sneaked a peek at Tuck from her peripheral vision. He had a faraway
expression on his face. What was he thinking about? Probably how much his foot hurt.

“I had an affair with a married woman once,” he admitted. “Except I knew she was married. She was separated, getting a divorce,
but she was still married.”

The scenery whizzed by the window. Mountains blue and majestic. Pine trees tall and green. Air so thin it made your heart
hurt.

“What happened to the relationship?” she asked him. “With the married woman who was separated and getting divorced.”

“She went back to her husband.”

“Ah.”

He shrugged. “It happens.”

“How’d that make you feel?”

“Used.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s not easy being the dirty little secret.”

“I’ve never told anyone about Alex. Not even my best girlfriends,” she confessed.

“I’ve never told anyone about Kay.”

“I’m glad I told you.” She smiled at him. “I do feel better.”

He smiled back. “Me too.”

Jillian felt something warm and melty inside of her. “Does this mean we’re starting to become friends?”

“Do you want to be friends?”

“We
are
living together.”

“But in a strictly platonic way,” he hastened to add.

Message received loud and clear. Friendship was all he could offer her.

But that was good. That was fine. Splendid even. After Alex, she was taking a break from sexual relationships. “Friends would
be nice. I need friends. I’m friendless in Salvation,” she said.

“Not totally friendless,” he said. “You have me.”

“And Lexi who runs the flooring/window treatment store. She wants to be friends.”

“Lexi’s nice. And you’ll make other friends. Salvation is a friendly place.”

“I dunno. Everyone I’ve met seems really attached to Aimee and possessive of you.” The minute she said his wife’s name, Jillian
could have bitten off her tongue.

Tuck said nothing.

She sneaked a look over at him. Noticed the strength of his profile. The firm jaw line, chiseled cheekbones, masculine nose.
He was staring out the passenger side window, and his breathing was quick and shallow.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said lightly. “Turn here. The hospital is just up ahead.”

Jillian slowed, but her heart was pounding. Why was her heart beating so fast? “How’s the ankle?”

“Numb.”

“Your boot’s probably cutting off the circulation.”

“Probably.”

“Good thing we’re here.”

“Good thing,” he echoed.

An odd feeling hit her then. One she couldn’t name but didn’t like. It made her feel all jumbled up inside, and she was afraid
that if he saw her face, he would know exactly how much he’d unsettled her.

Art of the bluff
.

She could hear Blake inside her head. He’d taught her a lot about hiding her feelings. She was a lawyer and a damned good
one. Jillian put on her game face. She parked his pickup in the emergency room parking lot and looked over at him. “I’ll be
right back with a wheelchair.”

“R
ELATIONSHIP?
” the emergency room clerk asked Jillian as she wheeled Tuck into an examination room. “Sister, girlfriend, wife?”

“Friend,” Tuck said at the same time Jillian said, “Lawyer.”

“So which is it?” asked the clerk, nervously giving Jillian the once-over.

“She’s a lawyer and a friend,” Tuck said. “But don’t worry, we’re not suing anyone. The accident was my own fault.”

“Although the Peabody Mansion
is
falling apart.” Jillian followed them into the examination room. “You could sue Sutter.”

“That’s not the way we do things in Salvation. Besides, he’s your boss. Wouldn’t suing him be a conflict of interest?”

“I’m just outlining your options. It’s an unsafe work environment.”

“I accepted the risks when I took the job.”
And when I stared at your ass.
“I’m not suing.”

He had to admire the way Jillian held it together. Getting him out of the mansion, calmly driving him to Boulder, throwing
her weight around to get him seen as soon as possible.

Tuck tried to imagine Aimee handling a minor emergency like this, and he couldn’t do it. One time he’d accidentally cut open
his palm with a utility knife, and when Aimee had seen the blood, she’d passed out. He’d ended up getting her in bed and then
calling a neighbor to come stay with her while he’d driven himself to the emergency room. It was kind of nice, he realized,
having a woman who could hold her own in the face of an emergency.

That’s not fair. Aimee was a trooper when it came to facing cancer. She was tough as hell, just in a different way.

True. Aimee had been a saint. Tuck bit the inside of his cheek and focused on the pain in his ankle. It wasn’t hard to do.
A doctor had come into the room and was working off his boot.

Jillian sat in the corner on a rolling stool, watching while the young doctor, not long out of medical school, diagnosed a
broken ankle. He sent Tuck for X-rays to confirm it; then he put him in a fiberglass walking cast and handed him crutches
and a prescription for Vicodin.

The entire time, Jillian watched the doctor like a hawk—serious, watching for mistakes. The doctor told them he’d once been
a ski bum but decided to go to medical school and specialize in emergency medicine after his best friend was killed on the
slopes right in front of him. As he talked, the guy slid flirtatious glances at Jillian.

Tuck couldn’t blame him, although he felt a sudden urge to tell the guy to keep his scintillating glances to himself. The
woman was stunning. But maybe Tuck was being unfair, misreading the signals. Maybe the doctor was just worried because the
clerk had told him Jillian was a lawyer, and he was terrified of being sued.

“He hit his head too,” Jillian said, her eyes on Tuck’s face, but her fingers were worrying the bracelet at her wrist. “Check
him out for that. He didn’t know where he was for a minute or two. He could have a concussion.”

“Thank you for calling that to my attention.” The doctor did a quick neurological exam, then turned to Jillian. “I think you’re
worried for nothing. Your friend checks out fine. No sign of a concussion.”

“You’re certain?” She narrowed her eyes at the doctor, and Tuck got a small whiff of what it would be like to face her in
the courtroom. The effect was unsettling. She’d never get a chance to use those kind of interrogation skills in a place like
Salvation.

“I … ca … could get a CAT scan if you like,” the doctor stammered, and blinked.

“Do that.”

For the first time, Tuck noticed how pale she looked, how her forehead knitted in worry. She was really concerned about him.
That was unexpected.

“I’m fine, Jillian,” he said. “There’s no need for an expensive CAT scan.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m okay.” Tuck didn’t know what compelled him, but he snugged the crutches up under his arms and reached out to touch her
shoulder. She looked startled, and a flush of sudden color rose to her cheeks.

A rush of emotion sledgehammered him. She put on one hell of a tough act, but inside she was a softie. He felt the heat rise
in his own cheeks and he ducked his head to keep her from seeing him blush.

“So he’s good to go, Doc?” she mumbled.

“Yes.”

Jillian hopped up, grabbed her purse, and hurried ahead of him. “I’ll bring the truck around.”

Tuck watched her leave, wondering just why he was feeling so damned mixed up inside.

“You were right,” Tuck told Ridley as he sank down next to him in a back booth at the Rusty Nail the day after his accident.
He propped his crutches against the wall beside him. He’d had to get out of the house; he was going stir crazy with nothing
to do but watch television and think about Jillian.

“Right about what?”

“The temptress is a jinx.”

Ridley’s eyes widened as someone put a Carrie Underwood tune on the jukebox. “What in the hell happened to you?”

“Jillian Samuels happened to me.”

“Huh?”

“The temptress.”

“Yeah, I get that, but how’d she jinx you?”

“I was so busy staring at her butt that I fell through the ceiling.”

“Back up, back up, I’m not getting this.”

Quickly, Tuck filled his brother-in-law in on what happened the previous morning at Sutter Godfrey’s office and how he ended
up at Boulder General Hospital with Jillian.

“You know,” Ridley said, “If she hadn’t been there, you’d have been in a real fix.”

“You’re not listening. I was in the fix because she was there. You were absolutely right. She’s cursed.”

“That seems a bit strong. I never said she was cursed. Plus, I might have been hasty in my interpretation of your vision,”
Ridley said.

“What do you mean?”

“I was talking to my uncle Tom about what you saw, and he said the temptress isn’t necessarily a bad omen,” Ridley explained.

“No?” Tuck swept a hand at his casted foot. “What do you call this?”

“Bad luck?”

“Isn’t that the same thing as a jinx?”

“Not really.”

Ridley waved at the passing waitress, and she stopped by their table.

“Hey, Rid.” The petite blonde smiled.

“Hey, Brandi.”

“What’ll you have?”

“My
single
brother-in-law here would like … what?”

“Draft beer,” Tuck said. “Whatever’s on tap.”

Brandi laid a napkin on the table in front of Tuck. “We’ve got Coors and—”

“It’ll do.”

Brandi’s eyes widened.

“Don’t mind his gruffness,” Ridley apologized for him. “Tuck’s wife died. He’s a widower.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Brandi sighed. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back with your beer.” She scurried off.

Tuck glared at his brother-in-law. “Why did you tell her that?”

“Sympathy date.”

“I don’t want to date her. She’s a child.”

“She works in a bar; she’s at least twenty-one.”

“Yes, and I’m almost thirty-one. If she’d be interested in me at all, it’s because she’s got eyes for my Social Security check.”

“Aimee was younger.”

“By only five years.”

“So the temptress, is she younger?” Ridley took a sip of his beer.

“We’re close to the same age. But you’re right. She’s a jinx. I’ve got to find that damned deed. Sutter claims it’s in his
office. Jillian’s straightening the place up, but she hasn’t run across it. Is the offer to bunk with you and Evie still open?
I’m asking you because I know my sister will automatically say yes.”

Ridley shifted in his seat. “Um … the doc has her on a different dose of fertility hormones, and it’s made her voracious,
if you catch my drift. Why do you think I’m hiding out here? I’m exhausted.”

Tuck plugged up his ears. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. I don’t need to hear any of this.”

“Just letting you know what you’re stepping into if you come stay with us.”

“Okay, never mind, forget I asked. I’ll sort out my living arrangements some other way.”

Ridley’s eyes lit up, and Tuck turned to see what he was looking at. Evie had come through the door. She spotted them and
walked over to cozy up on the bench beside her husband.

“What happened to you?” she asked Tuck.

“Fell through Godfrey’s attic and broke my ankle.”

“The Peabody Mansion is a hazard. It should be torn down.” Evie reached for the bowl of peanuts on the table.

“Bite your tongue, woman.” Ridley slipped his arm around her shoulders. “That house is the very foundation of Salvation.”

“Then the town is on very shaky ground.”

“She’s right,” Tuck added. “It’s eaten up with termites.”

“But it’s the first house ever built in Salvation,” Ridley protested.

Evie leaned across the table and whispered to Tuck, “He’s such a sentimentalist.”

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Ridley said, “but who’s manning the Bluebird?”

“Dutch.” Evie crunched a peanut and leaned against her husband. “And before you get alarmed, beef stew is on the dinner special,
so all he has to do is dish it up and make cornbread. Gives us plenty of time to go home for a quickie before the trivia tournament
starts.”

“I really do not want to know about this,” Tuck said.

“Uh-oh.” Ridley’s eyes were fixed on the door.

“What? Am I wearing you out?” Evie chuckled and patted Ridley’s chest. “Where’s that famous Native American stamina you love
to brag about?”

“Your jinx is here,” Ridley told Tuck.

“What?” Evie asked.

“Tuck’s new roommate.”

“Oh, Jillian,” Evie said. “I like her. She’s sharp.”

As a razor blade.

Tuck searched the crowded bar for Jillian and finally saw her standing next to the door. He couldn’t help himself—his eyes
clung to her. Her straight, symmetrical haircut swung about her shoulders like a swaying curtain as she moved, giving her
a patrician appearance. Her cheeks were windblown, and she had on a pair of black slacks, black boots, and a snug-fitting,
white V-neck sweater that made him drool.

He felt like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes bug out of their heads when seeing a gorgeous woman. It was all he
could do not to let loose with a wolf whistle. Oo-ga, oo-ga.