Deep in the Heart (30 page)

He leaned over and pressed his mouth across her smile, tasting it for texture and smoothness before handing over her smuggled treat.

“What did you bring me?” she asked, arranging her new, baby-pink nightgown that he’d brought her yesterday as a treat. It was as close to decent as sheer silk got, and he’d had a difficult time choosing the style at Monique’s. Every salesclerk in sight had been offering tips on hospital attire. But he hadn’t wanted prim, he’d wanted passionate pink. He got his wish. She looked good enough to eat.

“Among other things, a chocolate shake,” he said, and sat down beside her on the bed. He took off the lid and handed her the straw and plastic spoon.

It was deliciously cold and went down in slow, smooth gulps as she diligently sucked on the straw, draining the shake down to is last sticky slurp.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about that all afternoon.”

She tossed the empty cup and straw into the trash can and then swung the bulky cast on her leg over the side of the bed so that she could sit up.

“Are you supposed to be doing that?” he asked, warily eyeing the way she’d maneuvered herself closer to where he was sitting. From here he could see the outline of her breasts through the sheer silk. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he should have listened to the salesclerks’ warnings a little closer.

“Doing what?” she asked, and leaned forward for a longer, better kiss than the one she’d gotten earlier.

He couldn’t resist, and wouldn’t have even if he could. She tasted of chocolate and temptation impossible to ignore.

“What are you trying to do, darlin’?” he asked softly, as he caught her hands about to slide below his belt. Knowing her, she could do serious damage to his already shaky reputation.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, and scooted a little closer.

“Look at me, Sam.”

She did, willingly. Her gaze swept across his face, the beloved features so familiar, the seductive smile firmly in place. She looked her fill.

“I love you.” He cupped her face in his hands and peppered her with kisses until she was aching and gasping for more. “I will never, can never, get enough of you. But if you don’t stop teasing me into an ache we can’t heal, then I’m going to have to slack off on the visits or they’ll be redoing your surgery, and I’ll be sending flowers from my own jail. Do you get my drift?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m causing you discomfort?” she asked, with a grin.

“I’m not trying to tell you. I
did
tell you. Now are you going to cooperate, or am I going to have to put the chair beneath the doorknob and pray no one comes knocking until I’ve wiped that smug look off your face?”

Her eyebrows arched as she contemplated the alternatives he’d just given her.

“I think if we hurry…”

He bolted off of the bed.

Seconds later an orderly walking past in the hallway outside heard a small thump, and then a giggle and a sigh. But he shrugged and continued on his way. He had a spill to mop up and no time to be checking for trouble he couldn’t fix.

Nearly an hour had passed and it was time for temps and pressures to be taken. The door to Samantha’s room swung open, and she turned over in bed and smiled at the woman who’d just entered her room.

John Thomas was sitting in his usual spot in the chair by her bed, using the underside of the frame for a footrest as he scanned an ancient and dog-eared
National Geographic
from the waiting room outside.

“You’ll have to leave now,” Nurse Weller said, eyeing the odd expression on the sheriff’s face.

There was something about this man she couldn’t quite trust. She didn’t know what it was, but she’d bet her reputation it was there. One of these days, she’d figure out just what it was about him that made her nervous.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and bent down to give Samantha a slow, lingering kiss.

Dorothy Weller fussed with the tray beside her patient’s table, willing this man into the next county.

“Enough’s enough,” she said, and then saw the empty cup and the sack wadded and tossed in the trash can beside the bed. “So, did you enjoy your little treat?” she asked Samantha.

Sam grinned and looked straight into John Thomas’s face.

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” she said, a little too breathless for Nurse Weller’s comfort. “It was the best thing I’ve had in weeks.”

John Thomas laughed aloud, picked up his hat from the extra chair, and set it on his head at a jaunty angle.

“See you tomorrow?” Samantha asked, as she watched him almost swagger out of the room.

He turned and winked. “You up to it?” he asked.

“No, I think the question should be are
you
up to it?”

His laughter echoed down the hall, rich and vibrant with life. Nurse Weller frowned. There was more going on in here than she’d expected.

“Open your mouth,” she said, and poked the thermometer carefully between Samantha’s lips.

“Where have I heard that before?” Samantha asked, and then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

Visiting hours had come and gone long ago. The day had been difficult, the therapy intense and grueling. She should have been exhausted, and yet Samantha couldn’t sleep.

She aimed the remote at the television, turned off the sound, and absently watched the antics of Laurel and Hardy as they romped through the scene of the vintage movie being shown on TV.

The door to her room opened a crack, just enough for whoever was on the other side to listen and see if the patient inside was awake or sleeping.

“Who is it?” Samantha asked softly.

The door swung back.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, and slipped inside the room and quickly shut the door.

Samantha was surprised to see Montgomery Turner in her room at this time of night.

“You didn’t,” she said, pointing toward the television. “I was just bored and couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded and came a little closer to her bed.

“I’ve been meaning to come sooner,” he said, and then looked away as he worried the top of the little brown sack in his hands, unable to look for long at the dark hair spilled over the pillow and not remember another woman, with similar hair and features, who’d never come home.

“Come here,” she said, and held out her arms. “Johnny told me what happened, and I would like a hug.”

Monty shivered, knowing that her touch was going to give him pleasure, and at the same time pain. But he complied.

The hug was swift, but it was complete, right down to a tender, brotherly kiss on the cheek. Monty stepped back and tried to grin. The cocky look was gone. But Samantha knew that with time, most of it, if not all, would be back. Time had a way of healing the worst of hurts.

“So, what’s been going on at the department?” she asked. “I hope old Pete and Wiley have made up their differences.”

He grinned, remembering the two elderly farmers who’d duked it out in a fence row like two young studs.

“They’re fine,” he said. “Did the sheriff ever tell you what caused it?”

She shook her head.

“Pete’s bull got in Wiley’s pasture and, if you’ll pardon the expression, had his way with two heifers Wiley had been planning to sell. One thing led to another and before they knew it, they were trading punches about everything that had occurred since they were in school together, right down to the fact that Wiley had stolen Peter’s fifth-grade sweetie and never apologized.”

“Oh good grief,” she said, and then smothered her laughter so that they wouldn’t discover her late-night visitor.

“How did Johnny settle it?” she asked, remembering the two elderly wives who’d arrived on the scene as she was leaving.

“He didn’t, the wives did. They lit into those two old men like wet settin’ hens. Before we knew it, they had them in their cars and on the way home. I never saw two more down and out fellows in my life.”

She laid her head down on the pillow and sighed, a smile still lurking around her lips.

“You’re just what I needed tonight, Monty. Thank you for coming to see me.”

He nodded, and then started to leave when he stopped. “I almost forgot why I came,” he said, and handed her the sack he’d been holding.

“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” she said. “Your visit was more than enough.” She opened the sack and reached inside.

The stuffed toy puppy was soft and brown, with big sad eyes and long, floppy ears. Except for the big red bow around its neck, it was nearly a replica of the sheriff’s dog.

“It’s precious,” she said. “And it looks just like Rebel.” She turned it over and over, marveling at the perfection of the droopy features and the huge, mournful eyes.

“That old dog did more than his part in helping us find you. Thought you might like it, just in case you’re ever in need of another guard dog and we’re not around.”

“He’s perfect,” she said.

He smiled.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked, changing the subject on him so fast he didn’t have time to mask his emotions.

“With a boss like John Thomas Knight, and a grandfather like Wheeler Joe Turner, how could I not be?”

His mouth twisted, and tears shot to his eyes, but they didn’t spill over. And the answer he’d given her had enough spirit and humor to tell her he meant what he said.

The door flew open. Nurse Weller glared at the man, the hat, and the gun in his holster, and balanced her tray of medication more carefully before she tore into him.

“I should have known it would be another lawman,” she said, and started forward. “I suppose you have a real good reason why you’re here when you shouldn’t be.”

Monty did a swift about-face. “Yes, ma’am. Official business. Just tying up a few loose ends.”

He winked at Samantha and tipped his hat to the nurse as he hustled past her, then out of the door.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Nurse Weller asked, and set her tray upon the table beside her patient’s bed.

Samantha rolled over on her stomach, giving the nurse a clear target at her already overpunctured posterior, and sighed.

“Take your best shot.”

Nurse Weller didn’t miss.

16

J
OHN
T
HOMAS STOOD
on the porch, waving as the preacher’s wife drove away. He grinned slightly, watching as the dust settled on the grass at the sides of the road. Ever since Samantha had come home from the hospital, the stream of visitors coming to pay their respects had been constant and steady.

Although staying at the apartment in Rusk would have meant being closer to the doctor, as well as handier for John Thomas to check up on her during the day, she’d refused to go back. She’d stated loud and long that she wanted to go home. He had not had it in him to deny her another thing.

The pleasure he’d felt at knowing she considered his home hers was immeasurable. And all it had taken was her arms around his neck and the soft, breathless way she said “please,” and they’d been on their way. He shivered, remembering that sweet sound against his neck, and then a lid banged against a pan inside the house and he frowned.

She must be in the kitchen again, even though she was supposed to be off her leg as much as possible. The broken ribs had healed, the surgery on her knee had come and gone, but everything about her was still weak and fragile, and just looking at her made a lump form in his throat.

He’d come so damned close to losing her that he still woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, thinking the nightmare wasn’t over. Yet day by day, with her constant and reassuring presence, the panic in his eyes was slowly but surely disappearing.

Inside the house, Samantha stirred and poured, measured and chopped, satisfied that life had settled back into a more or less even course.

The first thing she had remembered when she came to herself in the hospital room was Johnny, sitting in a chair beside her bed, staring at her as if willing her to wake. And when she had, the relief on his face had been visible. She remembered seeing him shudder and try to speak. And when she had blinked, the tears he’d been holding back started a silent stream down his face. In all the years she’d known him, it was the first time she could remember seeing him cry.

After that, days became a blur. There were days of recovery and rehabilitation, days when she feared he would be fired for ignoring his duties, and days when she’d used up all her strength and leaned on him for everything. Those were the days most firmly locked in her memory.

There were the times after they were home when she would awaken in the middle of the night and know that, even in his sleep, he was clutching her to him in desperation. And during the day, she felt the way his gaze followed her every move as she hobbled from room to room. She worried that he would never be able to forget. As for her own fears, most of them were gone. Just knowing that Desiree Adonis was safely locked away was all that she needed for peace of mind.

And now that she was nearly healed, the constant caution in his look and touch was all she needed to know that she’d become the most important thing in his life.

It was good to know, but it was not enough. She wanted to hear him say the words. She needed to know that the decision she’d made to stay was not one-sided. And that was why she punched and prodded on a daily basis and dared him to explode.

The phone call she’d received today while he was gone had been, for her, the answer. It was all the spark she needed.

She thumped the lid another time or two just to let him know where she was, and then waited. It didn’t take long.

The screen door banged behind him as he stomped toward the kitchen.

“You’re not supposed to be doing that,” he growled, as he took the spoon from her hand, stuck it back in the pan, and lifted her off her feet.

Samantha’s heart tugged as he carried her outdoors to the porch swing, and plopped her down in his lap. He didn’t say a word, but the way he was holding her said it all.

She looked up at the shadows in those dark Texas eyes and then leaned forward and cupped his face, slipping small but apologetic kisses across his chin, cheek, and mouth until he groaned from the ache of her sitting so firmly against him when he so desperately wanted inside her instead.