In Another Man’s Bed Page 9

  Now that a woman had finally piqued his interest, he had no intention of letting her get away. Especially since he’d just found out that she wasn’t just a stunning face and a heart-stopping body. On his way back from giving up his chair he’d learned that her friend was the owner of the bookstore, and that her friend’s husband was in a coma.

  He’d asked the talkative stranger about Brianna and was told she and Justine, the owner, had been best friends since childhood. The informative customer went on to say that Brianna had recently moved back to her hometown to take over her father’s law practice and was single.

  Deciding introductions were in order, Patrick began working his way through the crowd toward Brianna and Justine. However, he soon discovered it wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought. Every time he started to introduce himself, another person would come up to them. Apparently the store owner and her husband were well known and liked.

  “How is Andrew?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Brianna said. “Did you enjoy the signing?”

  The person would usually blink as if unable to follow the switch in conversation, answer in the affirmative, and then move on—usually followed by another unthinking individual who asked almost the identical question. Like most of the people in the community, he’d heard about Andrew Crandall’s accident and felt empathy for his young wife.

  He thanked God his family had been spared that. The ten-hour surgery he’d gone through had been bad enough. He couldn’t imagine what she must be feeling. The well-meaning people who kept asking her how her husband was doing didn’t realize how tiring repeating the same answer must be. No wonder Brianna had taken over. If those asking would have taken the time to look at the woman standing protectively by Justine’s side, they would have spoken and moved on.

  The crowd finally thinned and Patrick quickly moved in. Like everyone else he ignored the barely veiled annoyance in Brianna’s beautiful tawny eyes, but not the lost look in Justine Crandall’s face. “Hello, I’m Patrick Dunlap.”

  Like a true Southern lady who is always cordial regardless of her own pain and suffering, Justine extended her hand. “Justine Crandall.”

  Patrick took the slight hand in his and gently shook it, then he turned to Brianna. “Ms. Ireland.”

  “Mr. Dunlap,” she said with as much warmth as an iceberg.

  He gave his attention back to Justine. “I recently moved to your beautiful city. It’s nice to find a knowledgeable bookstore.”

  He thought he saw Justine’s shoulders relax. “Thank you. Is this your first time here?”

  “Yes. I came to see Gunn,” he explained. “My niece got me hooked on his books.”

  Justine smiled. “That’s easily done.”

  “There’re refreshments on the table if you want any,” Brianna said.

  It was Brianna’s none-too-subtle hint to take himself off. “Speaking of refreshments, perhaps you’d like to go out la—”

  “I’m busy,” Brianna interrupted.

  Patrick lifted a brow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Justine turn in her chair to look up. He had a feeling Brianna would have walked off if it hadn’t meant leaving her friend. He admired loyalty and was even more determined to take her out. “What is it about me that you don’t like?” he asked.

  “I don’t know you well enough to form an opinion and I plan to keep it that way,” she said with studied disinterest.

  “Then it appears I have my work cut out for me.” He glanced down at Justine, who was watching them closely. “It was nice meeting you. Good night,” he said. Then to Brianna, “I’ll be seeing you.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” she said and turned her attention to Justine, dismissing him again.

  Patrick briefly wondered what she would do if he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Not a good idea. The lady looked as if she could take care of herself. Since Patrick didn’t want to find himself on his back in front of a room full of people, especially fellow police officers that he had met since he’d moved to Charleston, he nodded his head and walked away.

  By the time the last reluctant customer left, it was close to eleven, and there wasn’t a copy of any of Dalton’s books in the store. Good news/bad news for a bookseller. At the moment, Justine was just glad to lock the door. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could have kept up the farce of being the concerned wife.

  Thankfully, Beverly had called to say that since it was so late, Justine should go home rather than coming by the hospital. For the first time, her mother-in-law had sounded a bit put out with her. At the moment Justine could care less. All she wanted to do was go home and try to sleep. First, she had to get rid of Brianna and Dalton, her two new protectors who were standing just a few feet inside the store.

  “Thank you, Dalton, and you too, Brianna, for helping make this signing so successful.”

  “All I did was show up,” Dalton said.

  “Same here,” Brianna remarked.

  Justine tried to smile and found her facial muscles stiff. “It was more than that and you both know it. Now, scoot.”

  “Night, Dalton.” Brianna crossed to stand beside Justine.

  He glanced around the store. “Is there something else you need done?”

  Occasionally stubborn friends were a trial. “No. You already helped put up the chairs and Brianna helped clean up the refreshments table. I’m just going to lock up and go home.”

  “I’ll wait,” Brianna said.

  “No,” Dalton said. “It’s getting later by the minute. You go on home. I’ll follow Justine since I’m the reason she’s out so late. Let me help the little that I can while I’m here.”

  Brianna leaned her head to one side and studied him. “When did you learn diplomacy?”

  He chuckled and pulled Brianna to him in a brief, friendly hug. “Two older sisters. Now, scoot. I’ll call before I leave town.”

  Brianna’s gaze flickered to Justine and back to Dalton. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Same here. I know you’ll take care of Justine.”

  “Always.”

  “Please don’t talk as if I’m not here, and for your information I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” Justine told them.

  Both ignored her as Dalton walked Brianna to the door, unlocked it, then locked it again. “Do we need to go out the back or front after you set the alarm?”

  She could have become angry, but that would take too much energy. “The front.”

  He slipped his hands in his pockets, tightening the jeans. At another time she might have been caught by the sheer male beauty of the man. “I’ll just be a moment.” She escaped to the back.

  “Brianna.”

  Brianna whirled, crouched, her hands raised defensively. Patrick was a few feet away, a half-smile on his sensual mouth, his long-fingered hands upraised. “Sorry.”

  She straightened, annoyed because her heart beat crazily in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the scare she’d experienced or the sexy man in front of her. He wore a white shirt with the cuffs rolled back and a pair of creased jeans that molded to his muscular thighs. “You’d be a lot sorrier if you had been closer.”

  “Why do you think I was so far away?” He swept her purse up from the sidewalk and handed it to her.

  She took the bag and shoved the chain and leather strap over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

  He glanced around the shadowy shopping mall. The parking spaces were deserted, as were the stores. “I wanted to make sure you and Justine got to your cars safely.” He nodded toward a black Cherokee. “Dalton seeing Justine to her car?”

  It was a statement more than a question. “Yes.”

  He looked down the street. “I can’t imagine you in a van, so it must be the baby Benz.”

  A few spaces farther along was a black late-model truck. “Yours?”

  “Mine.”

  Something about the way he said that one word made her skin tingle, her body heat. “Thanks
, and good night.”

  He fell into step beside her. “I thought you might change your mind about—”

  “Nope.”

  “Thought not.”

  She came to a halt. “Then why ask?”

  “With a woman, a man can never be sure,” he said, a smile on his lips.

  From the light in the shoe store they were standing in front of, Brianna could easily see the muscled build, the handsome face, the teasing smile. There weren’t many men who could laugh at themselves. He’d also shown sensitivity when he hadn’t drilled Justine about Andrew. If she hadn’t sworn off men, she might take him up on his offer.

  “Change your mind?” he asked.

  Without answering, she went to her car, deactivated the lock. He opened the door before she could. “I don’t suppose you’d consider giving me your cell or condo number?”

  “Right the first time.” Getting in, she closed the door. Starting the car, she drove away without looking back.

  Dalton and Justine emerged from the bookstore in time to see Brianna driving off and Patrick walking to his truck. “Does she know him?”

  “No, but he wants to change that,” Justine answered.

  “You think she’ll be all right?” he asked, staring as Patrick pulled out and headed in the same direction Brianna had taken.

  “If ever there was a woman who could take care of herself, it is Brianna,” Justine said, unaware of the wistfulness in her voice.

  Dalton’s sharp, assessing gaze snapped back to her. Quickly she went to her van. “There really is no need to follow me.”

  He opened the door. “I think we already had this discussion.”

  “Well, then.” She held out her hand. There would be no hugs, coming inside at her house, or lingering goodbyes. “Thanks and good night.”

  His wide-palmed hand closed gently over hers. She felt the slight roughness of the calluses on the palms of his hands, the strength he kept in check. A strength she wished she could lean on. She swallowed. “Good-bye, Dalton.”

  “For now.”

  Her hand jerked in his. Too much of a coward to ask what he meant, she got into the van and started the engine.

  “Drive carefully.” Thumping the top of the van, he headed for his Jeep. Justine waited until he was inside with the lights on, then she pulled off, telling herself that Dalton’s leaving was for the best. Perhaps if she repeated it enough she’d believe it.

  As he had the night before, Dalton followed Justine home. He stopped in front of her house as she pulled into the driveway that circled to the back of the house. Lights came on in the front room, then went out. Although he didn’t expect her to come to the door and wave good-bye, he was disappointed when she didn’t.

  It was pure selfishness on his part to want her to want a last glimpse of him half as much as he wanted one of her. Putting the Jeep into gear, Dalton pulled away, unable to resist stopping for one last look. The light shone from a room in the back of the house. He didn’t want to imagine her undressing for bed, but his mind wasn’t that easy to control.

  Teeth gritted, he pulled off again. He wasn’t some out-of-control high school kid. He knew how to have power over his body. Only a fool would let himself be led by his zipper. His interest in Justine wasn’t just sex. Even when they had gone together for those few short weeks, he’d kept his hands above her waist and made sure not to scare her.

  Odd, but she looked scared tonight. Or perhaps haunted was a better word.

  In his thirteen years on the police force, he’d developed a sixth sense when something was wrong. He wondered if she and Andrew had been having problems in their marriage. Had she been happy or trapped and miserable like he’d been?

  Not your problem, Dalton told himself as he hit the freeway that led back to his hotel. In the morning he was heading home. He had a book to write. What had been first an escape was now his livelihood. He wished Justine what peace she could find and prayed it didn’t take as long for her to find hers as it had for him.

  Nine

  “Mrs. Crandall, your husband’s condition has taken a turn for the worse. His blood pressure is erratic, his pulse is weak, the vitals signs are unstable,” Dr. Lane told Justine as soon as she entered Andrew’s room that morning.

  “It’s just because Justine hasn’t been here lately,” Beverly said, dividing the displeasure of her gaze between the doctor and Justine. “He’ll be fine once she gets back to her routine.”

  Dr. Lane ignored Beverly. “Are you prepared to sign the papers now?”

  “She is not,” Beverly snapped.

  Justine jerked her gaze toward Beverly. She couldn’t remember a time when her mother-in-law had raised her voice.

  “Andrew is trying to wake up.” Beverly kept her hand on Andrew’s arm, as if daring either one of them to deny it or do anything that might harm him.

  “Beverly—”

  “Give him a chance, Justine.” Tears sparkled in Beverly’s eyes. “Give my son and the man you love a chance.”

  Justine bit her lip and looked away. Andrew had killed her love when he’d ripped her heart from her body.

  “Just look at him. He missed you,” Beverly said.

  The pleading in Beverly’s voice, the plea of a mother for her child, reached through Justine’s pain and anger when nothing else might have. For the first time in months she looked at Andrew.

  She flinched at the pale, still figure on the bed. A barber came in every morning to shave him and once a week to cut his hair. Three IVs fed antibiotics and nutrients. The respirator wheezed, pumping air in and out of his lungs.

  In and out. In and out. Soon Justine’s breathing matched that of the respirator. What if it stopped? She’d be—Refusing to let herself complete the thought, she quickly turned away and wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “Mrs. Crandall, are you all right?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ve upset her. With all this negative talk,” Beverly accused the doctor.

  Justine jumped when she felt her mother-in-law’s soft hand touch her shoulder. Beverly didn’t have to say a word. She had gone from allowing Justine to make the decision to making it for her. Andrew would be allowed to linger by any means necessary and as long as necessary. “I have to go.”

  “Mrs. Crandall—”

  “Run along, Justine.” Beverly cut the doctor off, dismissed Justine, then moved back to Andrew’s side. “We’ll be waiting for you tonight.”

  Justine stared at her mother-in-law. One part of her mind screamed, “Tell her the truth!” but she knew she wouldn’t. Telling his mother of Andrew’s affair would change nothing. She would still be trapped in the ongoing farce.

  Grabbing her purse off the chair, she hurried away. In the van, she put her head on the steering wheel and let the tears flow.

  Less than forty minutes later Justine got out of the van and started down the almost deserted sidewalk to her bookstore. At half past nine the shopping center was just beginning to come alive with the first customers of the day. Thankfully she’d have some time to herself before she had to face anyone.

  After pulling herself together in the parking garage at the hospital, she’d started to dial Brianna on her cell, then changed her mind. Brianna would be busy getting her father’s law practice in shape after his two-month absence with only a secretary to help.

  Instead she’d gone home, put cold compresses on her eyes, and gotten ready for work. Brianna was right about one thing. She couldn’t allow Andrew to take any more from her.

  Opening the door, she went inside. Iris looked up from the counter, her eyes widening in surprise. If Justine did drop by the store, it usually wasn’t this early. “Good morning, Justine.”

  “Good morning, Iris. Let me congratulate you again on the successful signing last night.” Justine stopped at the counter.

  A pleased smile on her face, Iris finished putting money in the cash register and then joined Justine on the floor. “Thank you, but a popular talented aut
hor like Dalton makes my job easy.”

  “We both know booksellers never have it easy.”

  Iris’s lips quirked. “Now that you mention it, we don’t.”

  Justine adjusted the wide strap of her shoulder bag. “I’ll be in the back.”

  The front door opened. Dalton entered, balancing a white pastry box and three hot containers on top. Iris rushed to help.

  “Thanks. Morning.” His gaze skipped past Iris to Justine.

  “Morning,” Justine greeted. Her voice sounded dry, unused.

  “Good morning,” Iris said, holding the containers. “I hope this is for us.”

  “It is,” Dalton answered. “I wanted to thank you for one of the most successful signings I’ve had in a long time.”

  Iris glanced at Dalton, then at Justine. “We were just talking about that. You made it easy.”

  “Thanks, but I happen to know how hard booksellers work.” He crossed to Justine, who hadn’t moved. “Hot chocolate with a layer of whipped cream. Just the way you like it.”

  Touched and surprised, she felt tears sting her throat. She swallowed, blinked.

  “I really wish you wouldn’t this time,” he said softly. “But if you do, I’ll understand.”

  “Oh, Dalton,” she said, blinking rapidly. He touched her in ways that made her want to lay her head on his shoulder or curl up in his lap.

  “Where do I put this? Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Justine extended her free hand. “I’ll take it, and thanks. You’re about to get on the road?”

  “Yes.”

  “Safe travel.” She wanted to add “I’ll miss you,” but Iris was listening to every word.

  He nodded. “I’ll keep in touch this time.”

  “I’ll understand if you don’t.”

  His black eyes narrowed seconds before he touched her lightly on the arm and leaned forward. For a panicky second she thought he was going to kiss her on the cheek. He straightened. “Take care.” Whirling on his heel, he started from the store. “Thanks again, Iris.”