Hearts Awakened (5 page)

“That conference by the St. Johns County Coalition Against Sexual Assault?”

“Yeah?” Foreboding gripped Mark’s gut. Oh, man. Don’t let this be headed where he thought it was. St. Johns County? No way.

“There’s a handful of seminars for law-enforcement personnel. I was supposed to go with Tori so she didn’t have to travel alone. I forgot about it.”

Mark squeezed his eyes shut, temples pounding.
Don’t say it, Tick. Please don’t say it. You don’t know what you’re asking.

“There’s no way I can go. I can’t leave Cait. The department’s already paid the registration fee and there’s a no-refund policy. I need you to take my place.”

“How does Tori feel about this?” Mark pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t ask, but she won’t care. She likes you.”

The enormous irony in that simple statement struck him as funny and a harsh laugh rumbled from his throat. “You sound awful damn confident about that.”

Tick’s exasperated sigh filled the line between them. “Cookie, come on, I need you to do this. She’s determined to go and I don’t want her traveling by herself—”

“Get somebody else to go. What about her friend from the hospital, Layla Whatever-her-name-is?”

“What good would it do us to have a physician’s assistant sit through law-enforcement classes? I want you to take notes, come back and redeliver on our next training day. And I can’t see Tori getting in a car with Chris or, God forbid, Troy Lee for a four-hour drive. She trusts you. Besides, I’ve already changed the registration from my name to yours.”

When he could see straight again, the first thing Mark planned to do was kick Tick’s stubborn ass. Desperation crawled along his nerves. He wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. So much for staying away from temptation. Facing it was supposed to be good for a guy, right? He could do this. Three days with Tori in Florida. Alone. Heaven help him.

Three days in St. Augustine, surrounded by everything he’d been trying to forget for almost twenty-freaking-years and trapped with a woman who’d made it her life’s mission to heal others. Shit, shit,
shit
—

“Cookie? You there?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“So you’ll do it?”

Like he had a choice. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Great. I’ll get you all of the paperwork and let Tori know. Later.”

“Bye.” Muttering his full repertoire of curse words, he disconnected and flung the cell phone on the dash. Hound whined. “Damn it.”

Easing into a right turn on to Bacon Street, Chris slanted a look his way. “What was that about?”

“Tick wants me to go to that flippin’ sexual-assault conference in St. Augustine.”

Chris shrugged. “So?”

“With Tori.”

“And the problem with that is? Not like spending three days with her would be a hardship.” Chris faked an exaggerated shudder. “Tick would be a bitch to deal with afterwards, though.”

“Yeah.” The conference would take up eight hours of each day, but what of the remaining time? He couldn’t leave Tori on her own. St. Augustine and the surrounding area were his old stomping grounds; he’d grown up in a small town between the Oldest City and Jacksonville. He could show her all the things the tourists usually missed and watch the pleasure light her face, a wide smile curving that utterly kissable full mouth of hers.

Distance. He was supposed to be thinking about putting distance between them, not getting further involved. If he was smart, he’d go to the conference workshops then park her in a hotel room all night long. Wrong thing to think about. That painted other pictures in his mind—kissing her, exploring those long legs and the curves under her jeans and T-shirt. He groaned. The worst thing was the fantasy didn’t even include sex. Just finding out what it would be like to kiss her. He was losing it.

Chris laughed. “What’s with you tonight? You’re in another world.”

“I’m obsessed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “And not with sex either. Just with kissing her.”

“Her who?”

“Tori Calvert.” Saying it aloud actually felt pretty good and he could trust Chris to keep his mouth shut.

The car swerved slightly and Chris stared at him. “You have a death wish or what?”

“Guess so.”

Chris shone the spotlight over the lot at Uncle Robert’s Used Cars. “Well, maybe in a couple months when that baby gets here, Tick’ll have too much to do to worry about killing you for going after her.”

“Who said anything about going after her? I just said I wanted to kiss her.”

Swinging into a U-turn, Chris passed the light over the gas station across the street. “Why wouldn’t you? She’s smart, funny, absolutely gorgeous.”

Mark narrowed his eyes at him, a streak of possessiveness flaring. “Why don’t you ask her out, then?”

“Because.” A streetlight illuminated Chris’s impassive expression. “She just doesn’t float my boat. Why don’t you ask her out?”

The disastrous dinner didn’t count as a date. Mark turned away, staring at the low ranch houses that filled the residential district just behind the main business drag. Lights remained on in some, the blue lights of televisions flickering. He could envision what went on behind those curtains—dinner conversation, people gathered in front of a favorite movie, Monopoly boards spread out on kitchen tables, parents helping with homework assignments. Families going on with the business of being families. That’s what Tori deserved, a guy who could give her that kind of life.

“I’m all wrong for her. She needs the kind of guy who wants the house-and-minivan thing, trips to Disney World and all that. I’m not that guy. I don’t do forever.”

“He wants his wife back. He wants a normal life and I don’t know when that’s going to happen again.” Nicole King wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. Bright fall sunlight filtered through the pine trees, picking out the highlights in Nicole’s red hair. “Or even if it’s going to.”

Tori stared beyond the small group of women to the river below the park. She was such a fraud. Her job was to help them regain their lives, to build intimacy once more. What did she know? Maybe she should take the grief-counselor position open at the hospital.

“We haven’t…made love in seven months. Since a couple of days before the rape,” Nicole whispered. The words emerged as if from a raw throat. “I can’t. I don’t even want him to hug me. It’s too much.”

Forcing herself to pull everything together, Tori looped her own arms around her knees and smiled at Nicole. At least she could spout the textbook advice. “There’s no deadline, Nicole. Recovery is an intensely personal experience. For some, it takes longer than others. Have you tried counseling as a couple?”

Nicole blinked, her clear blue eyes glittering. “Joey won’t. He says he doesn’t need to talk about it. He just wants to forget it ever happened. He wants me to forget it too.”

Red flags flew at full staff in Tori’s brain, but she kept her face composed. “Nic, why don’t you try to get him to come with you for your personal session next week? Maybe if I talk to him—”

“I’ll try.” Nicole didn’t sound as if she held out much hope and anger flitted through Tori. Didn’t the guy realize how much Nicole needed him right now?

Silence descended on the group for long seconds. Lisa Davidson picked at tufts of grass, her pretty face set in tight lines. “At least he stayed with you,” she said, her voice quiet. “My boyfriend dumped me afterwards. I was used goods to him. Jerk.”

“All guys are jerks.” Patty Bennet lay on her back, one knee bent over the other, her gaze on the cloudless sky. The textbook from her college English course rested on her stomach.

Tori slanted a look at the nineteen-year-old, a seething mass of insecurity and resentment. “Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true. My old man who smacked me around when he was drunk and pissed off. The guy who raped me. The pricks at school who think I must be an easy lay because of it.”

“Oh, Patty.” Nicole reached for her hand, but Patty jerked away. “That’s only three examples. Not all guys are like that.”

Sitting up, Patty tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. “Well, your precious Joey makes number four. He wants you to
forget
it ever happened. Like that’s possible.”

Lisa glanced up. “Tori? What do you think?”

“I think Patty’s entitled to her anger.” Tori smoothed her hair behind her ear. “I also think there are many great guys out there. Joey’s going through a lot of his own. Men with a partner who’s suffered a rape have a whole set of issues involving recovery.”

Patty narrowed her eyes. “Name one. One of those great guys. And your brother doesn’t count.”

Mark Cook
. Tori swallowed. He was decent. She fiddled with her watchband. Funny how her mind went there first. “Investigator Cook with the sheriff’s department.”

Face drawn in a suspicious frown, Patty watched her for several moments. “For real?”

“Yeah. For real. He’s a good guy.”

Patty reached for her discarded English book and bag. “I’ve got a class. I need to go.”

Squinting against the sun, Tori tilted her face up to look at her. “Same time next week. And call me if you need to talk.”

“Yeah. Sure. Later.”

“I should be going too.” Nicole rose in a fluid motion. “I’m supposed to meet Joey for lunch. Want a ride back to work, Lisa?”

“Please.” Smiling, Lisa wrapped Tori in a quick hug. “Have a good day, okay? You look sad.”

Tori returned the hug. She’d learned a while ago that Lisa craved affection from her female acquaintances, something she was still unable to accept from any male she knew, father and brother included. “Thanks. Take care.”

With the others gone, she stared down at the river. The brown water moved with deceptive slowness. Under the muddy surface lurked wicked currents, just waiting to pull someone under. A lot like life. A lot like those jerks Patty kept pointing out.

She rested her chin on her knees, doubts crowding in. How could she help Nicole rebuild intimacy in her relationship when she’d never even had a genuine relationship of her own? She couldn’t really be helping any of them, especially if underneath it all she was afraid to step out and take a chance on a relationship.

Mark had tried to call her back Saturday night and she’d run from him. He’d asked why he wouldn’t want her. He couldn’t seriously be interested in her, could he? No. Not with women like Angel around, women who could meet his normal needs. Even if he was attracted to her, she couldn’t risk getting involved with him. Sooner or later, the issues would be too much for him and she’d end up hurt.

She’d definitely done the right thing by walking away.

Her cell phone chirped and she dug it out of her purse. “Hello?”

“Hey. Are you busy?” Tick asked.

She brushed an ant off her ankle. “Nope. Just finished a group session. How’s Cait?”

“Not so good. She’s really nauseous today.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, about the conference in St. Augustine—”

“You’re bailing on me, aren’t you? Tick, it’s okay. I understand.”

“Cookie’s taking my place.”

Her ability to think or breathe dissipated. Surely he hadn’t just said that. “What?”

“I meant to call you last night and forgot, but I talked to Cookie and set it up. He’s going to Florida with you.”

She lowered the phone and stared at the screen. Oh Lord. Now what was she supposed to do?

“Tori,” he said, keeping his voice casual, “who taught you to drive?”

The wind, rushing in her open window, tousled her hair. “Tick. Why?”

“Just wondering.” Well, that explained it. He checked his watch. “We should be there soon.”

She nodded. “I love the way the landscape changes the closer you get to the ocean.”

An ancient and abandoned roadside diner flashed by. Cookie turned his gaze the other way. The place had once served the best pancakes in the area. Jenny had been crazy about them smothered with blueberry syrup. That last morning, she’d eaten two helpings of them.

He hadn’t wanted a pancake since.

“Oh, my gosh!” Tori’s excited squeal jolted him seconds before she swerved into the left-hand turn lane.

Heart pounding, he threw out a hand and braced against the dash. He glanced behind them, expecting to see a multi-car pileup in progress. “What?”

“I have to stop here.”

“Where? Why?” The car sounded okay. What was with the sudden need to stop? And there was nothing here to stop for. They were fifteen miles outside of St. Augustine and at least five miles from Preston.

“Look at this place. It’s incredible.”

He glanced up, his stomach still jumping with the suddenness of her turn. A chill swept over him. The antique mall. He stared at the long low building with the massive double-decker bus in front. No way. He couldn’t go in there.

Her wheels crunched on the white limestone and she pulled to a stop near the front door. “This is so great.”

One look at her face and he sighed. Her eyes sparkled with glee and a wide smile curved her mouth and showed off white teeth. For that smile, he’d go anywhere, even his own personal hell.

She swung out of the car, her wind-tossed hair bouncing around her shoulders. The faded jeans hugged her cute little rear end. Yeah, he’d follow that anywhere too.

He pushed the door open and stepped out. She perused the items piled along the building front. The rounded fullness of her breasts pushed against her snug white T-shirt. Slamming the car door, he leaned an arm on the roof. How could she look like
that
and think no guy would want her? Hell, looking at her made his teeth hurt.

Still smiling, she looked at him over her shoulder. “Let’s go inside.”

He filled his lungs with moist, salt-laden air and complied, holding the screen door open for her. He caught a whiff of her sweet scent as she passed him. Three days. He’d never survive. Either the memories or her torturous presence, one or the other, would do him in.

Inside, the smell of old furniture hit him. Brighter than he remembered, the interior was crowded, jammed with every conceivable item. With clean white paint covering the plank walls and the windowpanes cleared of grime, sunlight flooded the long, low room. Hard to believe this was the same place he’d spent so many of his breaks, dropping by for ten minutes just to see Jenny and be with her, sometimes bringing her an RC and a MoonPie merely to see her pleasure in the small surprise. He could almost smile at the remembrance, maybe because it felt like he was standing on neutral ground now, somewhere removed from that faraway time and place.

Tori aahed over a stack of old windows. She leaned over, flipping through them. At the waistband of her jeans, just below the small of her back, a flash of red and black winked at him.

A tattoo? Victoria Calvert possessed a tattoo?

A tickle ran over his fingers. More than anything, he wanted to reach forward, inch the waistband on her jeans down and find out. Who’d have thought it? A hundred bucks said Tick didn’t know about it either.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Tori looked at him, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Like what?” he asked, striving for an innocent “who me?” air. She rested a hand on one hip, emphasizing the smooth nip of her waist.

She shook back her hair, the tangled fall of dark silk a gorgeous mess any supermodel would be proud of. “Like you know something I don’t.”

More like he knew something Tick would pitch a fit over. His grin widened and he leaned against the old produce table behind him, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just…”
Enjoying the view.
He swallowed the words. Indulging in a flirtation with her wasn’t in his plans. A gazillion reminders and maybe he’d get that idea through his head. “I’m just wondering where you think you’re going to put anything you buy.”

“Oh.” She waved off the concern. “I’ll pay extra to have it shipped home.”

“You folks finding everything okay?” The woman’s pleasant voice had the distinct accent of a coastal Florida small town. She greeted them from the end of the aisle, her tall figure clad in jeans and a linen blouse tied at her waist. Her red hair kicked out in a short, trendy cut. She moved toward them. “I know it’s a little crowded. I just bought new inventory and haven’t sorted everything out yet.”

“This place is wonderful. I could plunder all day. Oh my gosh, this is beautiful.” Tori rubbed her palm over a salvaged porch column. Mark sighed. He was jealous of a piece of freaking wood.

“Isn’t it? I had eight of them. That’s the last one.”

Tori curved her hand around the strong pillar and looked over her shoulder at Mark. “This would be great in your living room.”

Why would he need a porch column in his living room? He shook his head. “Not my style.”

Her expression turned impish. “Your style? What is that? Barren bachelor pad?”

The store owner’s smile widened. “I’ll just leave you two to browse, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Tori said, already eyeing the rows of items waiting to be discovered.

Frowning, Mark watched the woman walk away. Close to his age, she triggered some sense of familiarity. Heck, he’d probably gone to high school with her.

“Mark, come on. Let’s see what else is hiding in here.”

Tori tugged him away from the table. The warmth of her hand on his upper arm jolted through him. When had she started calling him Mark? Oh man, he liked the sound of his name on her lips way too much.

Carefully, he removed his arm from her easy hold. He kept his face blank, going for a bored air. “You plunder all you want and have a blast, but this isn’t my thing.”

Her enthusiasm dimmed and her hands fluttered a moment before she stuck them in the back pockets of her jeans. “Oh. Okay. We can go if you like.”

Wonderful. She looked at him like he’d just kicked her cat or something. No wonder she had Tick and her other brothers wrapped around her pretty little fingers. Buying time to gather his words, he freed a piece of gum from its foil and stuck it in his mouth, the first burst of wintergreen tingling over his tongue.

“Take your time. We don’t have anywhere to be. It’s not going to kill me to hang around while you browse.” He glanced around at the clutter, his gaze falling on a stack of faded Coca-Cola crates. He shook his head. People paid money for this? “I’m just not into…stuff.”

“I figured that out by looking at your apartment.” She moved down the narrow aisle, peering into glass display cases and plastic milk crates full of miscellaneous items. She picked up a glass telephone-pole insulator, turned it over to scrutinize the bottom and put it down again before she touched a finger to an old metal toy tractor.

Mark sighed. They’d be here all day, but if she kept smiling like that, all of the shadows gone from her eyes, the time would be worth it. He followed her.

A pie safe with punched tin doors caught his attention. Jenny had wanted one like it and he’d spent the weekend before her birthday building a replica. He’d cut his fingers all to hell punching crooked hearts and flowers in sheets of tin, and in the lower left door, he’d entwined their initials in the design. Just like this one—

Heart pounding, he leaned closer. A thin layer of rust hid the tin’s shine, but sure enough, the door held a stylized
M
intersecting with a
J
. He stood too quickly, blood rushing to his head, his vision blurring, a dull roar taking over his ears. It couldn’t be. He’d hauled the damn thing off to Goodwill, along with Jenny’s books, their cheap dinette set and all the baby stuff they’d never used.

The rough letters mocked him, and for a moment, he was standing on the front porch of the tiny row house again and Jenny smiled at him over the top of the safe, eyes sparkling, fingers caressing the wood. He swallowed, his throat tight and painful.

Shaking off the sensation, he looked around for Tori. Oblivious to him, she stood a couple of rows over, searching through a stack of old linens. He turned away from her rapt expression and passed a hand over his damp face. “Hey, Tor.” His voice emerged choked, a little shaky, and he cleared his throat.

“Hmmm?” She didn’t look at him, but held an embroidered tablecloth up to the light.

“I’m stepping outside. You take your time.”

“Sure.” She laid the cloth aside and resumed her quest.

If he’d ever wondered about his role in her life, there was his answer. He ranked somewhere below a pile of old napkins and things. Pushing his now flavorless gum to the other cheek, he chewed harder.

Near the front door, the redhead was tagging items. “Find anything you like?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s still browsing.”

“Great.” She smiled, her gaze trained on the tag before her. As he passed, Mark studied her. He
knew
her. Something about the shape of her blue eyes.

He stopped, hand on the door. “Have you had this place long?”

She glanced up, her expression open and friendly. “A couple of years. I’ve lived just a few miles up the road, in Preston, all my life though. I used to work summers here when I was younger and I always loved it.”

Worked here. So had Jenny, her second part-time job. Blue eyes, red hair. He swallowed his gum, choking. Laurie. Oh, hell.

“Are you okay?” She reached for him, but he backed out the door before she could touch him.

“Fine. Just swallowed my gum.” He stepped into the harsh sunlight, dragging in gulps of damp sea air. Laurie. A rough laugh escaped him. He’d grieved with her, cried with her, slept with her, and she didn’t remember him. God, he was glad she didn’t remember him. The last thing he wanted was a “hey, how’ve you been, let’s dredge up the past” conversation.

He didn’t need to dredge up the past. He carried it around with him every damned second of every damned day.

Filled with a giddy lightness, Tori hurried into the parking lot. Finding the perfect pieces always made her feel like she’d completed a fantastic treasure hunt. However, if she kept this up, she’d need a bigger apartment. Either that or she’d have to start passing things off to her friends and family.

Poor Mark. She’d lost track of time, left him standing around far too long while she spent far too much money. He leaned against the trunk of her car and she put on her brightest smile as she joined him.

“I’m so sorry. I get wound up in…” The words died on her lips. He stared across the highway, but his eyes seemed blank and unseeing, the sharp focus they always had gone. Concern flared. “Mark?”

She laid a gentle hand on his arm and he flinched. He straightened away from her touch, the clearing of his throat a rough and uncomfortable sound. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.” Tori eyed the pallor of his face, the tiny beads of perspiration above his lip. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Fine. Let’s go.” He stalked to the passenger side, opened the door and sank into the seat.

As she settled behind the wheel, she glanced at him. He stared straight ahead, chewing his gum so hard it looked like he was tearing into a tough steak. After starting the engine, she adjusted the air conditioner, but didn’t shift into gear. “What’s wrong?”

He chewed harder. “Nothing.”

She frowned. If he was angry, why not just say so? She’d never suspected he harbored a passive-aggressive streak. “Mark, if you’re mad because you had to wait, I already apologized.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, something’s obviously bothering you—”

“Tori!” His voice exploded in the confines of the car and she jumped. His hands clenched on his knees. “Leave it the hell alone, okay?”

For a long moment, she couldn’t breathe. She held on to the steering wheel, a lifebuoy in suddenly treacherous seas. Oh, sweet Jesus, she was alone with him. He could do anything and there was pitifully little she could do to stop him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The skin around his mouth glowed white with tension. He stared at her, his torso heaving.

“L-like what?” She tucked her hair behind her ears. Her fingers shook and the sick rush of adrenaline continued to pulse in her gut and chest.

“Like you’re afraid of me.” His hands clenched into fists, but remained on his thighs. “I’m sorry I yelled, but I wouldn’t hurt you, Tori. Ever.”