Hearts Awakened (2 page)

The apartment was empty.

Afterwards, she dropped her keys on the counter next to the phone and laughed at herself, a harsh sound of self-derision. Would she ever get beyond the ritual? Probably not, since she performed it every time she entered the apartment and had since she’d moved in three years before.

Silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional voice from outside. She slipped to the window and peeked between the slats of her blinds. Sarah Bolinger arched in a dive, splashing into the water. The middle building was dark. Across the parking lot, in the third building, a light burned in the living room that mirrored hers.

Cookie’s Blazer wasn’t in his spot, though. He’d left his light on, but he wasn’t home. She didn’t have to imagine where he was or what he was doing. Hatred burned in her throat like bile. She hated him because she cared, hated herself for the same reason. This whole
thing
—every breathless, stomach-fluttering moment of it—was pointless. She wasn’t the type of woman Mark Cook would be interested in.

And she never would be.

Mark Cook tugged his jeans into place and zipped them. A Mel Gibson movie blared from the motel television and Angel sat against the headboard, wearing her panties and tank top and eating French fries from a McDonald’s bag. He reached for his T-shirt. A burger and motel cable weren’t what he’d had in mind when he’d offered her dinner and a movie, but he hadn’t expected to end up at the hospital dealing with Jed Stinson again either.

Not that Angel seemed to care one way or the other, since she’d gotten what she’d really gone out with him for. He brushed pink glitter from his chest and tugged the T-shirt over his head.

Angel glanced up from the television and pointed a crisp, golden fry in his direction. “You
have
lost weight since the last time I saw you, baby. How much?”

“About twenty pounds.” And twelve to go to make Jay Mackey, physician from hell, happy. Retrieving his socks, he looked around for his shoes.

“They’re by the door.” Angel spoke around a mouthful of French fries.

“Thanks.” He grabbed them and settled on the edge of the bed. Glancing at the television, he pulled on his socks. Mel kissed a very pregnant Rene Russo and Mark looked away. He stomped a foot into a tennis shoe.

“Baby, you don’t have to go yet.” Angel wrapped her arms around his neck, the rounded softness of her breasts pressed to his back. A French fry rested near his collarbone, its salty aroma filling his nose. She nuzzled the side of his neck. “We could still have a little more fun.”

“I have to work tomorrow.” If they weren’t old friends and he didn’t know better, he’d think she kept calling him baby because she didn’t remember his name. Hell, he’d used the ruse often enough in the past.

She bit the lobe of his ear, one hand wandering down his chest. With the other, she trailed the French fry across his lips. “You could spend the night here, with me.”

If he did, he wouldn’t get any sleep. The lifestyle had definitely lost its appeal when he wanted the French fry and a few uninterrupted hours of rest instead of the warm, willing woman trying to entice him. With a sigh, he turned his head and captured the fry with his teeth. Salt and grease exploded on his tongue. God, that was good. Surely one wouldn’t kill him. How many calories and fat grams in one little fry? He caught her hand before it slid below his belt.

“Angel,
baby
.” He brushed his mouth against her palm. “You wore me out, honey. I have to be up early in the morning. But feel free to hang out.”

She traced his jaw with her finger. “Well, you know I prefer you to Mel any day, but if you’re sure…”

He was. Actually, after dealing with Jed’s stubborn ass earlier, he wouldn’t have minded simply dinner and a movie, a hot kiss goodnight and his own bed, but Angel’s sweet persuasion and the need to dodge his own disquiet had led him down the same old path. He stood, her arms falling away, and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I’m sure. Enjoy your movie.”

Her attention already diverted, she eyed the television and waved at him. “Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah. You too.”

“Hey, before you go…the brunette at the hospital, the tall one? Was that Tick’s little sister?”

He didn’t want Tori’s image mixed up in the sordidness of this motel room. “Yeah.”

Angel tilted her head to one side, munching again. “I thought so. She looks like him. She’d be real cute too, if she’d fix herself up a little.”

“Night, Angel.” He stepped outside and made sure the door latched.

The damp air wrapped around him, mist moving beneath the lights in the parking lot. Truck engines rumbled out on the highway and he dragged in deep breaths, trying to clear Angel’s perfume from his nose. The Blazer’s door creaked when he opened it and the cracked leather driver’s seat hugged him like a glove when he slid behind the wheel.

He stuck the key in the ignition and rested his head on the steering wheel. Tori—
Tori
—would be real cute if she’d fix herself up a little? He laughed. Tori Calvert had to be the most genuine, naturally gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Her brand of beauty came from deep inside, a softness that glowed in her dark eyes and transformed her face when she smiled. Fixing up that face with pink glitter, red lipstick and too much black mascara would be a travesty.

Lifting his head, he started the truck. He wasn’t going to think about her. Tori was purity and goodness and everything wonderful.

Not to mention the fact Tick would kill him for looking twice at her. A slow, painful and creative death, for sure. When it came to his baby sister, Tick Calvert didn’t play.

Mark threw the truck in reverse and backed out. Headlights swept the parking lot and a white patrol car turned the corner. Its searchlight played across his windshield, blinding him a moment. He cursed and threw up a hand to protect his eyes.

The patrol unit idled to a slow stop next to his truck. Mark rolled down his window and, through the green spots blurring his vision, eyed the young deputy in the driver’s seat. “Troy Lee, what are you doing?”

“Patrolling.” Troy Lee’s white teeth flashed in the grin that had half of Chandler County’s young women speeding, just on the chance the department’s youngest deputy would pull them over. “What are you doing?”

“Going home.”

Troy Lee draped a hand on the steering wheel, his gaze resting on Angel’s bright yellow Mustang. “Ever notice how many local tags there are in this parking lot on a Friday night?”

Yeah. The Mercedes parked at the end room belonged to the chairman of the county commission. The SUV next to it did
not
belong to the chairman’s wife. Probably half the cars had local owners. However, if anybody’s name got tossed around the gossip circles after church Sunday, it would be his. Chandler County had a pecking order and he was still an outsider, still at the bottom.

He fixed Troy Lee with a hard stare. “Yeah, but I don’t want to hear anything out in the county tomorrow about whose car was where. It’s none of our business. Got that?”

Troy Lee’s grin disappeared into a little boy pout. “Sure. I got it.”

“Good.” Just because the chairman’s wife knew about her husband’s philandering didn’t mean having the local gossips throw it in her face wasn’t painful. The old-biddy committee didn’t need any fresh ammo. They made up enough on their own.

Mark gunned his engine a little and shifted into drive. “Be careful.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned left out of the parking lot, Troy Lee heading off to the right. This late, the empty streets lay quiet. The fast-food joints stood closed and dark, a few cars in front of the all-night diner on the main drag. Inside, waitresses in bright orange dresses moved under the harsh lights.

His stomach growled and he wavered. The diner served the best patty melts in town. The single French fry he’d eaten earlier called to him, beckoning him to abandon the self-discipline he’d built over the last four months.

Shaking his head, he drove on. Twelve pounds. Avoiding that patty melt, and the apple pie he’d surely order with it, would get him that much closer to his goal.

When he pulled into his apartment complex, nothing moved except lacy crape-myrtle branches. The security lights illuminated the stairways and parking lot. The pool area lay silent and empty. Of the twelve apartments, lights shone in only two. His and Tori’s.

He stepped out of the truck and stared across at her windows. Her living room lights burned all the time, so he had no way of knowing whether she slept beyond that pool of brightness. A lot of nights, the nights when the dreams and the memories were too strong, she didn’t sleep, but roamed her apartment. She hadn’t shared that and he’d never been beyond her front door. He knew because he saw her silhouette move against the blinds and because when Tick worried about her, he talked.

That was how Mark had learned his presence in the complex made her feel safe. Secure. Not as alone. The knowledge warmed him too much for comfort. Getting hung up on Tori Calvert was a dead-end street. The fact he was halfway there and had been for the last two years or so didn’t help.

Turning away, he jogged up the stairs to his place. If she was awake, he didn’t want her to see him watching her apartment, didn’t want her to feel the moment’s panic that would cause until she figured out it was him.

He’d promised Tick he’d look out for her, keep her safe. So as long as she needed him, he’d be here.

Watching over her.

Tori opened the bag of microwave popcorn, careful to keep her fingers clear of the poof of escaping steam. She poured the fluffy kernels into a bowl and popped a few in her mouth. Hot against her tongue, the salty snack seemed to melt. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

She carried the bowl into the living room. Her abandoned textbook rested on the coffee table and she settled on the couch, legs crossed lotus-style. On the television, a pair of clothing designers helped a college student find a new, more professional style. Tori eyed the pointy-toed stiletto heels the girl picked out. She wiggled her own toes. Those had to hurt.

The phone rang and she swallowed a mouthful of popcorn without chewing. Lord, please not another trip to the ER tonight. She reached for the cordless phone and a quick glance at the caller ID sent a rush of relief through her. Not the hospital, but the only other person who would call her at eleven-thirty at night. “Yes, Tick?”

His deep chuckle filled her ear. “How did you know it was me?”

She rolled her eyes and muted the television. “Who else would it be? What if I’d been asleep?”

“Were you?” He managed to sound contrite for maybe half a second. She sighed. Some things never changed and autocratic, overprotective big brothers were one of them.

“No.” She looked at her textbook and suppressed a spurt of guilt. That chapter on post-traumatic stress didn’t contain any information she didn’t already know firsthand. “What do you want?”

“Holy hell, you’re a brat. I can’t just call and check on you?”

How many times had she told him she didn’t need a keeper? “I’m fine. Now, what do you want?”

“I hear Maggie was in the ER again tonight. Jed didn’t give you a hard time, did he?” A familiar edge entered his voice.

“No, Cookie handled him.” She set the popcorn aside, her appetite gone.

“Cookie? He was off tonight.”

“Yeah, well, your deputies were tied up with some wild party out at the Butler farm. Obviously, they called Cookie instead of you.” She wished Tick had been available. Then she wouldn’t be stuck with movie-sharp images of Mark Cook wrapped up with blonde, pretty, glittery Angel. This was ridiculous. Twenty-seven years old, a virgin—mentally if not technically—and obsessed with her brother’s best friend’s sex life. Lord, she needed a few cats to complete the cliché.

She cleared her throat against a sudden lump. “Anyway, I’m fine. Jed and Maggie went home and I’ve got some studying to do before my class Monday night. Stop worrying and get some rest.”

“You too. Night, Tor.”

“Good night.” She killed the connection and tossed the phone on the couch. Unfolding from the couch, she crossed to the window. Cookie’s Blazer sat in its spot. His apartment was dark. Her lights remained the only ones in the complex. She wrapped her arms around her midriff, trying to hug away the ache there.

She was alone.

He glared at the back of Troy Lee’s head. The kid made the training run look like nothing. Most of the guys out here did, all of them younger and in a heck of a lot better shape than Mark was. He’d keep pace with them, even if it killed him.

They passed the ballpark, a handful of teens playing soccer on the baseball field. Only two more blocks. He could make two more. Dry leaves, set swirling by their feet, skittered across the street. Above them stretched a blue sky, crisp and cloudless.

Troy Lee picked up his speed.

“You ever hate that kid?” Tick fell into step beside him, not the least bit winded.

“Yeah.” The monosyllabic reply didn’t sound too breathless. Man, Tick better not want to talk too much. His pride couldn’t stand it.

“You’re making this look almost easy,” Tick said, a hint of a grin lingering in his voice. “That diet of yours is paying off, huh?”

Mark nodded and concentrated on breathing. The steel shell of the new courthouse loomed and relief spurted through him. A few more yards. Shade enveloped them as they jogged into the parking lot behind the sheriff’s department. Slowing to a stop, Mark bent at the waist for a moment to catch his breath, then straightened to walk out the stitch and let his pulse return to normal.

Troy Lee and Chris Parker, the K-9 officer, laughed and carried on a conversation as if they hadn’t just run five miles. Chris opened the cooler sitting on the department’s back steps and pulled out a bottle of water. Tick retrieved his clipboard and jotted notes. Finally able to breathe at a normal rate again, Mark grabbed a water from the cooler. The icy liquid hitting his tongue was pure heaven.

That had to be what kissing Tori Calvert would be like.

Crap
. Where had that come from? He had to stop thinking about her and the perfect shape of her full bottom lip. Taking another long pull from the bottle, he shook off the thoughts. He glanced at Tick, who dropped the clipboard on the steps and took his own water.

“How’s Falconetti?”

Twisting the cap off his bottle, Tick grimaced and Mark grinned. Married more than two years and it still bothered Tick that Caitlin hadn’t taken his last name. “Hugely pregnant and confined to bed rest. How do you think she is?”

“Hell to live with.”

“I wish.” His face somber, Tick shook his head.

“Holding everything in, huh?” Jenny hadn’t done that. She’d figured if she was miserable, he should be too. The stray memory stung and he carefully shoved it back in with the others locked away.

Tick lifted the bottle to his lips and drained half of it. “Yeah. She’s so damned afraid this pregnancy will go wrong too. You know, sometimes I lie beside her at night and I can
feel
her willing everything to be okay.”

“Probably because you’re doing the same thing.”

A sheepish smile played around Tick’s mouth. “Probably.”

He wanted to tell Tick everything would be all right, that this pregnancy wouldn’t end in a miscarriage the way the three previous ones had, but the words stuck in his throat. Life didn’t work that way. Sometimes it bit a guy on the ass when he was least expecting it. Sometimes it outright tried to eat him whole.

“Hey!” Troy Lee’s eager voice broke between them. “Chris and I are going to do another couple of miles. Y’all want to come?”

“You two go ahead.” Tick finished his water and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin by the steps. He grabbed the clipboard again and moved up the steps. Mark followed. How could anyone be that enthusiastic about running? If it had been swimming, he could understand.

When he and Tick stepped through the back door, a tidal wave of jail noise washed over them—shouts, the cacophony of thirty voices talking at once, four televisions going at the same time, jailers issuing commands. His ears cringed. Nineteen years in law enforcement and he’d never grown used to the noise of a jail.

Upstairs, blessed quiet hung in the squad room. Tick dropped the training report in Sheriff Stanton Reed’s inbox. “The lab results from the King case are in. They’re in my office.”

“Great.” Mark walked with him to the tiny room off the main hall.

Tick rummaged through a stack of folders in his own inbox. Mark dropped into the chair in front of the desk. An acrylic picture frame leaned against Tick’s wedding photo and Mark picked it up, studying the three-dimensional sonogram image. Even in grainy black and white, the baby’s face was perfectly detailed.

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Tick pulled a file free. He laid it on the desk in front of Mark and pointed at the sonogram photo. “I swear it looks like he has Cait’s mouth.”

“What do you mean,
he
? I thought Falconetti didn’t want to know the sex.”

“She doesn’t, but I didn’t take my eyes off the screen during the whole scan and some things are hard to miss.” Tick chuckled. “Trust me, it’s a
he
.”

Mark studied the image again. “Are y’all talking about names yet?”

“No.” Tick’s voice turned sober and tight, and Mark glanced up at him. “Cait…she doesn’t want to make any plans. Won’t pick out paint colors for the nursery, won’t look at any of the baby clothes Mama keeps buying and stashing, won’t talk about names. I think she’s scared if she does, she’ll jinx everything.”

“Man, you’re going to have to do something before this kid gets here.” Mark placed the picture frame back on the desk. He wanted to pick up the other snapshot next to the wedding photo, a candid shot of Caitlin and Tori, her head tilted to one side, dark hair pulled away from her face, a shy half-smile parting her lips. Instead he rested his hands on his knees.

“Yeah.” Tick ran a hand through his hair. “We still haven’t even bought a crib. Watch me end up putting it together the day before we bring the baby home. Do you know how hard it is to assemble one of those things?”

As a rule, Mark tried not to think about anything baby-related at all. However, the guy in front of him was his best friend. He couldn’t ignore what went on in Tick’s life. “So who’s with her today while you’re here?”

“Tori.” Tick flipped through a small stack of pink message slips. “Cait’s helping her with some paper she has due next week. You should come for supper. I’m going to toss some steaks on the grill.”

“No thanks.” He liked Caitlin, but that rounded stomach of hers made him think of things he’d been trying to forget for almost two decades. Besides, spending the evening with the woman he was infatuated with and couldn’t have wasn’t his idea of a good time. “Maybe another night.”

“Hot date?”

Only if running out to the farmer’s market for fresh produce counted. Angel had used up his hot-date quota for the week. Probably for the entire month. Funny how what he used to look forward to most left a bad taste in his mouth now.

Mark shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’m out of here.” Grimacing, Tick twisted sideways, rubbing at his back.

“Is that still bothering you?” For the last couple of weeks, Tick had complained about lower back pain. “See a doctor, man.”

“Probably pulled a muscle trying to fight Johnny Waldman into the car.”

“Probably pulled a muscle lifting your hugely pregnant wife,” Mark muttered and grinned at Tick’s outraged expression.

“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll kill you and me both.”

“See a doctor about your back and I won’t tell her you said it first.”

“Some friend you are.”

Mark laughed and pushed up from the chair. The backs of his legs protested. He’d be feeling this run for days. “Later. And I mean it. Call Mackey and make an appointment, or I tell your wife everything.”

Tori’s fingers tapped on the laptop keyboard in a regular rhythm. Finally, she was getting into the flow of her paper. If starting this short analysis was so difficult, what would her doctoral thesis be like? She sighed, stretching her fingers. Another couple of pages plus the literature review and she’d be finished. She glanced at Caitlin dozing on the couch, hands folded over the mound of her stomach, while calm music wafted from the CD player.

The kitchen door opened and Tori looked up from her notes. Clad in a T-shirt and shorts, Tick dropped his keys on the island. His gaze fell on Caitlin and his expression softened.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet. “Has she been asleep long?”

“About twenty minutes.” Tori kept her own tone low.

“I’m not asleep,” Caitlin murmured, eyes still closed. “Someone’s jabbing me in the ribs.”

Tick laughed and crossed to crouch beside the sofa. He spread his hand over the bottom of her stomach. “Doing flips, isn’t he?”

He dropped a kiss on her mouth, both hands sliding up to embrace the roundness of her belly. Caitlin’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. Even across the room, Tori could see love glowing in Caitlin’s dark green gaze. Tori swallowed hard and looked away. Envy twisted through her. That’s what she wanted, someone to make her
feel
.

Remembering Cookie’s hand resting on Angel’s hip, she twined her fingers together. What would that be like, to have a man’s hands, to have Cookie’s hands, on her in a soft intimacy? Her chest tightened and she closed her eyes. Okay, she needed to let this go now. Other men existed in the world. Of course, the last one she’d picked had been…God, no. She wasn’t going there.

“Hey, Tor.” Tick’s voice pulled her back to reality from hopeless rumination. “Can you hang around while I take a shower?”

“Sure thing.” She stretched, popping her spine.

“Great.” He nuzzled Caitlin’s jaw with his nose. “I’m sure I smell to high heaven.”

“You do.” Caitlin struggled to a more upright position with his help.

He kissed her again. “Be right back.”

Tori pulled her gaze from Caitlin’s face and the way she watched Tick walk away. She’d wanted this for her brother forever—a woman who loved him, a family of his own. Only she hadn’t realized how alone it would make her feel.

“Tori? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Tori leaned forward, letting her hair hide her face while she shut down her laptop. She schooled her features before she looked up. “Why?”

“Because you looked like you’d just lost your last friend.”

She tried to laugh it off. “I’m worried about this stupid paper.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m
sure
.” She rose and dusted off her jeans. “Is there anything you need me to do? Start a load of laundry?”

Caitlin shook her head, the frustration of being dependent on others plain on her face. “Your mom did it yesterday, but thanks. Sit down and talk to me awhile.”

By the time Tori had her books and laptop packed away, Tick emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed. He tousled Tori’s hair. “You want to stay for supper? I’m grilling.”

She ducked out from under his hand and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Not tonight. I’ve still got a lot of studying to do before Monday, plus I need to finish this paper.”

Not to mention she was tired of having the lonely state of her life thrown in her face by his happy marriage. Lord, he was right—she was a brat, with her self-centered moping and whining. Time to dry it up.

He nodded. “Be careful going home. Want me to walk you out?”

“I’m fine.” She leaned down to kiss Caitlin’s cheek. “Take care.”

“You too.” Her gaze intent and serious, Caitlin studied her face and Tori turned away quickly to hug her brother.

Outside, her breath whooshed out in a relieved sigh, but the depression hung over her despite her determination to perk up. She settled her backpack on the passenger seat and started the engine, but stared at the pine trees surrounding the house for a minute without really seeing them. Why was she letting this bother her so much? Her life was full—the crisis center, graduate school, her friends and family. Yet, the nagging sense of something missing remained.

She hadn’t had a date in over two years, mainly because her last relationship had been such a disaster it didn’t bear thinking about. She shuddered. Good heaven, she’d been such a fool not to see through him, to see him for what he really was. No wonder Tick thought she needed a keeper. Maybe she really did.

Maybe arranged marriages weren’t a bad deal after all.

Only she could just imagine what kind of marriage Tick would arrange for her. One in name only. Probably with a chastity belt involved.

She sighed and shifted into reverse, backing down the long driveway. Yeah, all this whiny introspection was helping her pull herself out of the dumps.

The little Miata zipped along the back road, deep green woods and wide flat fields flying past. Cotton, waiting for harvest, glowed white on defoliated plants, and on the other side of the road a tractor plowed rows of peanuts. Tori let her window down, allowing the rich scent of freshly turned peanuts to roll in. She took a deep breath of the much-loved smell, trying to relax. The wind massaged her scalp, running mischievous fingers through her hair.