Stories of family and romance beneath the Big Sky!

Reed grinned. “Would you sew me up, Doc?”

Val realized her heart was beating abnormally fast. He affected her…she liked him…all of her denials had been in vain. It came rushing at her with such force that breathing evenly was impossible.

But she couldn’t be in love. She just couldn’t! “Take these things with you.” She realized that her hand wasn’t altogether steady.

Reed stood and reached for the first-aid bag, but instead of taking it he walked his fingers up her arm and around her neck. Then he gently urged her forward and into his arms.

He knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she should stop him.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Sweet Talk

Jackie Merritt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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JACKIE MERRITT

is still writing, just not with the speed and constancy of years past. She and her husband are living in southern Nevada again, falling back on old habits of loving the long, warm or slightly cool winters and trying almost desperately to head north for the months of July and August, when the fiery sun bakes people and cacti alike.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Prologue

The Party, late May

She didn’t normally go to parties, and she wondered what she was doing in Joe’s Bar on a Saturday night with at least forty other people, the smell of booze and cigarette smoke assaulting her every breath and music she despised making her ears ring. She thought of her home, of her bed, of herself clad in soft pajamas and propped up with pillows against the headboard with the television on—sound turned down low—and a book on her lap. That was how she spent her evenings, not like this. It would be a cold day in hell before she let anyone—even her sister—talk her into attending another “birthday bash” at the local pub.

Val’s gaze moved past the crowd at the bar to the jukebox in the corner. No one was listening to the teeth-jarring rhythms of the unidentifiable noise the machine produced, she thought resentfully, so why did they keep punching the same damn buttons?

“Enough,” she muttered, and dug into her pocket for some coins. She might have to hang around this place a little longer, but she could at least do something about the awful music jangling her nerves. Armed with quarters, she left her table and wended her way through the crowd to the jukebox, where she studied the list of song titles for several minutes before finally spotting one she actually liked. She had just extended her hand to drop her quarters into the slot when someone jostled her from behind, causing her to drop the coins. She turned to give the person who had so rudely run into her a dirty look, but he or she had melted into the crowd.

Shaking her head in disgust, Val stooped down to look for the change. The floor was dark, she realized, much darker than the rest of the place. Hoping it wasn’t too dirty, she got on her knees and began feeling around for the coins.

In mere moments she realized that a long, jeans-clad leg was very close to her head. She took in the costly cowboy boot below the hem of the jeans and let her eyes travel up the length of the leg, and then farther still, to an attractive white-on-white western shirt that was nicely filled out by an extremely good-looking man.

She knew who he was—Reed Kingsley—only because everyone in Rumor, Montana, recognized the town’s fire chief, even if they weren’t aware of his impressive family ties. There was nothing ordinary about Reed, especially his Romeo reputation. Val had heard that this guy went from woman to woman as most men changed shirts, which totally destroyed any interest she might have had in him—if she had been in the market for a man, which she wasn’t, with very good reason. She no longer played silly games, thanks to that one awful day when her entire world had been torn apart. Reed was handsome and rich and involved in almost everything that went on in Rumor, but Val didn’t care who the devil he was; he had usurped her place at the jukebox!

“Excuse me,” she said coolly, and when he didn’t immediately respond, added a highly sarcastic, “Hello?”

He looked around, saw her and grinned. “What’re you doing on the floor?”

To hell with the quarters, Val thought, and got to her feet. “I dropped my coins. I was going to play H-32, but you took my turn, anyway, so to heck with the whole thing.” She began walking away and was startled to feel his hand on her arm. She gave him a look that made him yank it back so fast it seemed to blur.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” she retorted, and left him standing there with his mouth open. At her table again, she tossed out lies to the others seated there. She wasn’t entirely sure of how she got out of Joe’s so fast, but she was inside lying through her teeth one second and outside breathing fresh air the next.

Immensely relieved, she got in her vehicle and drove home.

Reed had rarely met a party he didn’t like. Some were better than others, of course, depending on the people in attendance. But he enjoyed drinking a beer or two with friends, and there were very few people in Rumor that he didn’t think of as a friend. Tonight’s crowd at Joe’s was a good bunch, he decided. Good friends, old friends, people he’d grown up with, for the most part.

But there were a few folks there he didn’t know very well. One woman, in particular, Dr. Valerie Fairchild, Rumor’s veterinarian, had been piquing his interest for some time now. They’d been introduced during a meeting of Rumor’s business owners a while back, but she still acted as though she didn’t know him when they ran into each other in a store or on the street. He was surprised to see her at Joe’s tonight, and he watched for an opportunity to speak to her. Her trip to the jukebox seemed heaven sent. He ambled over slowly and got there just about the time she sank to her knees to pick up a dropped coin.

He pretended he didn’t see her and began looking at the selections. When she said, “Excuse me,” and then an extremely sarcastic, “Hello,” he knew he’d irritated her in some way.

He put on his best grin and asked, “What are you doing on the floor?” He thought he had succeeded in sounding amicably amused but not patronizing, and looked for a smile on her strikingly beautiful face. He was sorely disappointed, for her parting remarks weren’t friendly or even kind.

He rushed to apologize, and without thinking before acting, he put his hand on her arm. It was a huge mistake, for the look she laid on him made him feel as if he’d shriveled from his normal six feet to child-size.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, hoping an immediate apology would alleviate her distress, which he didn’t understand but felt responsible for.

Her reply, “Yes, you are,” shocked him. He stood there like a ninny for a long moment, wondering what, exactly, she had meant with those three words.

But he knew. Deep down where it hurt, he knew. She had told him coldheartedly that she thought him to be a sorry specimen of humanity.

No one treated him that way, especially women. Doc Fairchild was a freezing-cold woman, one any man with a dram of good sense would give a wide berth, so why was he already trying—once again—to figure out a way to break through her icy exterior and reach her heart?

Chapter One

The wedding of Max Cantrell and Jinni Fairchild took place at the Rumor Community Church on Saturday, November 1, at 7:00 p.m. Valerie Fairchild was her sister’s attendant and Michael, Max’s son, all decked out in a gorgeous dark suit comparable to his father’s, was best man. It was Michael’s first experience with a wedding, Jinni had confided, and Val sensed strong emotion behind the youth’s rather swaggering exterior. Obviously, Michael preferred that no one know how touched he was by this very adult affair.

Val understood exactly how the boy felt. She, too, was emotional. She had to bat her lashes every few moments to hold back tears. She didn’t want to cry at Jinni’s wedding, she wanted to be happy and joyful and smiling. Growing up, the Fairchild sisters had not been close at all, but when Jinni dropped everything in New York and came to Rumor to help out during Val’s chemotherapy treatments, it had been the most pleasant surprise of Val’s life.

Now the sisters were very close, and the frosting on the cake was that Jinni had met Max Cantrell and they had fallen in love; Rumor, Montana, was now Jinni’s home as much as it was Val’s. It struck Val, while she stood there listening to Pastor Rayburn’s kindly voice uniting her sister with the man she so dearly loved, that even when things looked darkest, there was often a ray of light on the horizon. Val’s dark days had indeed been brightened by her sister’s unexpected appearance. Jinni fairly glowed with her enjoyment of life, and she rarely had a negative word to say about anything. She had bolstered Val’s spirits more times than Val could recall, and during their many conversations, hours spent talking and laughing, they had become true sisters.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Pastor Rayburn said. Val sighed inwardly, feeling a spark of regret because the ceremony was over.

Max put his arms around his wife and kissed her. At that very moment, a wave of weakness—a backlash from her chemotherapy treatments—struck Valerie. No! she thought frantically. Not now! Given no choice in the matter, she sought someone to lean on. She took two shaky steps and grabbed Michael’s arm. He looked at her as though she had sprouted horns.

“Bear with me,” she whispered, comprehending his dismay. “I need to steal a bit of your strength…just for a moment or two.”

“Uh, sure,” he said, then remembered that Jinni’s sister wasn’t well. In fact, when he thought about it, there had been several instances of conversation about Dr. Fairchild doing battle with cancer. Just thinking the word sent icy fingers up Michael’s spine, but he would crumble to dust right where he stood before letting this nice woman know that he was so easily rattled.

The guests in the small church left their seats to congratulate the newlyweds. Val managed to kiss her sister’s cheek, then Max’s, and to wish them every happiness before the crowd got to them.

“I’m fine now, Michael,” she told him. “Thanks for the use of your arm.”

“You can hang on to my arm anytime you, uh, need to.”

Val saw the red stains on Michael’s cheeks and adored the boy for his response. He always acted so tough and uncaring, but underneath his bored-with-it-all expression, his practiced glower, he was a sweet young man.

“You’re a dear,” she said with a soft smile. “I think you and I might be related now. Let me see. Jinni is now your stepmom and I’m her sister, so I think that makes me your stepaunt. What do you think?”

“Yeah, could be,” Michael mumbled.

Val wanted to laugh, but for Michael’s sake she didn’t. The boy was well aware of Jinni’s new status. He didn’t have to call her Mom, but legally she was his stepmother. Val knew for a fact that Jinni was thrilled at gaining a son along with a truly marvelous husband, but Val could only guess at how Michael perceived the quite serious change in his life. Jinni was positive, and had said to her sister that she and Michael were developing a great relationship.

The church hadn’t been full; only a dozen or so guests had been invited, as the Cantrell family wasn’t exactly riding high these days. Max’s mother was there, and Val noticed Michael gravitating toward her. Mrs. Cantrell was torn, Val could tell—happy for her eldest son, Max, and worried for her younger son, Guy, who was in jail, awaiting trial for the murder of his deceased wife, Wanda, and her lover, Morris Templeton.

There was not going to be a wedding reception, either. The Cantrells—with Jinni present—had discussed the event and decided that with Guy in such jeopardy they would eliminate any flamboyance. When the trial was over and Guy was freed—they were positive of the outcome, as they knew Guy could never harm, let alone murder, anyone—then they would throw a party that would knock the whole town’s socks off. Jinni had ardently agreed with her future family.

While the newlyweds were kissed and congratulated by everyone, Val dodged bodies, went to a pew and sat by herself. Watching the gaiety at the front of the church spill into the center aisle, she realized how much Jinni’s family had expanded in the past few minutes. Val’s family consisted of one person, Jinni, while her sister had Max, Michael, Mrs. Cantrell and Guy.

Val sighed quietly. She would never be a bride. She couldn’t force herself to let a man get close no matter how clever his attempts. She’d been hit on many times since that horrible long-ago experience that still haunted her dreams. The extended therapy she had undergone after the incident had helped, of course, but she’d known from her first session that she would never regain her old confidence and be the carefree, flirtatious woman she’d been before that terrifying day. Absorbed wisdom from the best therapist money could hire had made her more or less whole again but it had also destroyed her affection for the opposite sex. She liked men, as long as they kept their distance.

It wasn’t something she talked about; it was just who she was these days, a sexless being with a good career, a handful of friends and a sister that she had come to love very much.

But who wouldn’t love Jinni? Val asked herself. She was so alive, so vibrant and beautiful. Jinni brought life into any room she entered. Was it any wonder that Max had fallen in love with her? The good citizens of Rumor had never met a sparkling dynamo like Jinni Fairchild, and she’d taken the place by storm. Now, of course, she was one of the townsfolk, and Val would bet anything that once Jinni and Max settled into their marriage, Jinni would become Rumor’s leading hostess.

It was a pleasing thought, and Val was smiling when Jim and Estelle Worth approached her. These wonderful people had started out as employees, helping out when Val became ill, and had evolved very quickly into good friends. Both Jim and Estelle were retired, Jim from the U.S. Forest Service and Estelle from nursing. Jim was a big man with thick shoulders, a bit of a paunch and a full head of graying hair that would make many a younger man blanch in envy. Estelle was tall and thin—her dark hair also graying—and so full of cheerful energy that she appeared to bounce from one task to another. This great sixty-something couple still worked for Val, Jim in the Animal Hospital and Estelle in Val’s home, and Val could talk with ease to each of them. Not about herself, of course, or her disturbing past, but Jim and Estelle had become parental figures to her. She truly loved them both.

“What a precious wedding,” Estelle said with a nostalgic sigh, as though recalling her own wedding. Jim stood behind her and grinned. Maybe he, too, was remembering.

“Val, you look beautiful in that dress,” Estelle said. “And Jinni’s gown? Oh, my, I’ve never seen such lovely dresses in all my days. Where did you say they came from?”

“From New York City, Estelle. Jinni knows the designer. She called her, described what she would like shipped out, and we received the dresses two days later.”

“And they fit perfectly.” Her comment was a statement, not a question.

“With a nip and a tuck here and there, yes.” Val could see that people were starting to leave the church. Max and Jinni were planning to fly to California and honeymoon at a fabulous resort, and it was time they headed out.

“I’m going to say goodbye, then I’ll be ready to go,” Val murmured while getting to her feet.

“We’ll wait in the car,” Jim called. “Take your time.”

“Thanks, Jim.” Val hurried to the happy newlyweds. Max was talking to a tall, well-dressed man, and Val barely noticed either of them while she took Jinni’s hand and said with teary eyes and a catch in her voice, “You are the most stunning bride this little church has ever seen. Jinni, what can I say, except thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I don’t need to tell you to be happy, because you always are.”

Jinni blinked back her own tears. “You can be happy, too, sweetie. You just have to look at the bright side of life. We both know it’s there, Val, but sometimes it isn’t out in the open. You have to do a bit of searching to find it. Now, kiss me and say goodbye. We have to get a move on if we’re going to make our flight.”

Smiling through her tears, Val kissed her sister’s cheek, then turned to kiss Max. But instead of looking into Max’s brilliant blue eyes she found herself looking into Reed Kingsley’s brilliant green eyes. She was so startled that she let out a small gasp.

“Hello, Valerie,” he said calmly.

“Hello,” she answered, and twisted a bit to plant a quick kiss on Max’s cheek. “Have a wonderful honeymoon,” she whispered, then backed away, turned and hurried down the aisle to the church’s outer door. She was almost there, almost home free, when Reed caught up with her. He was a persistent cuss, obviously used to having his own way and unable to believe that a woman to whom he made overtures would not reciprocate. Val wasn’t interested, and she wasn’t about to explain to him or to any other man why she wasn’t.

“Val, must you leave so quickly? Are you going straight home?” Reed asked, while visions of getting to know this unusual woman, really getting to know her, danced in his head one more time. He didn’t normally have to chase a woman for months and months to get a few words out of her. He could already tell that she wasn’t going to be any nicer to him tonight than she usually was.

She slanted a glance at him over her right shoulder. “Yes, I am. Good night.”

She had succeeded in putting him down once again, and it didn’t help that he’d been right about her apparently irrevocable attitude toward him.

“Val,” he said quietly, “I only want to talk for a minute.” He saw that his plea didn’t move her, but he still held his breath until she spoke.

“I can’t,” she said coolly, politely. “Sorry, but the Worths are waiting in their car for me.”

She left him standing there with a taken-aback look on his handsome face, which she dismissed with an annoyed toss of her head. He wasn’t stupid, so why didn’t he take the not-so-subtle hints she dropped every time they ran into each other? She hadn’t known he would be at the wedding. Since he wasn’t a close friend of Jinni’s, he must be Max’s business associate. Max, she knew from Jinni, had invited a few business buddies to the affair, the few who lived in the area.

Hell, maybe they played golf together. How would she know?

Val put Reed Kingsley out of her mind and walked to the Worths’ car. As far as she was concerned, the evening was over. Jinni was married and her life with Max had already begun. It was a lovely thought, even if she didn’t want the same thing for herself, Val conceded as she got into the car.

While Jim and Estelle took Val home, Reed, driving with a frown on his face, made a left on Main and considered stopping in at Joe’s Bar, or maybe even pushing the envelope by going out to Beauties and the Beat strip joint. He nixed that idea almost at once; he would like some female company, but not with the gals who danced half-naked at the joint.

“Damn,” he mumbled. This thing with Valerie Fairchild had crept up on him when he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t quite place the first time he’d seen her as a beautiful, sexy, desirable woman, but that seemingly irrevocable opinion had taken root without conscious direction from his brain. Now, it had grown into something that, considering Val’s constant rejection, he’d be better off without.

The whole thing perplexed him. He had never been one to lose sleep over sex or romance or any other type of male-female relationship. He liked women—women of all ages, for that matter—and they liked him.

Except for Val. Why didn’t she like him? Why, of all the women he knew, was she the one that had finally gotten under his skin? Was it because she played so hard to get?

“She’s not playing at all,” he muttered. “There’s the problem.” Rumor was a gossipy little town, and there was not one speck of gossip about Val and men, not old gossip, not new gossip. He’d wondered if her sexual preferences were with her own gender, but there wasn’t any gossip about that, either. No, she was heterosexual, strikingly beautiful even if she did very little to enhance her looks, and simply didn’t like him. She might be the one woman in his personal history who had truly gotten under his skin, but it was damn obvious that he hadn’t gotten under hers.

Wasn’t it time he called it quits? He’d had enough of Val’s polite disregard of his very existence. There certainly was no shortage of available women in the area, and spinning his wheels over one who couldn’t care less was utter nonsense. With that decision made, he told himself he already felt better.

But obviously he’d been driving on automatic pilot—his mind a million miles away—because he was long past The Getaway, a spa on the outskirts of town, before he realized that he’d left Rumor and Joe’s Bar in the dust. Fine, he thought. He didn’t want to drop into Joe’s, anyway. Making a U-turn, he drove back down Main to Kingsley Avenue and swung a right.

He was going home, and the whole damn town would be old and gray before he turned himself inside out to get Val Fairchild’s attention again.

Weatherwise, it was an incredible November. One perfect day rolled into another and another, each with brilliant sunshine and air so clear that whenever Val looked off into the distance, she felt the lovely, if unrealistic, sensation of limitless vision.

Bright, flaming colors had replaced the dark greens of the trees and bushes, and the unique smell of fall seemed to permeate Val’s every cell. The residents of Rumor, Montana, had been enjoying the pleasures of a storybook, picture-perfect Indian summer for more than two months now.

People Val knew kept saying it wouldn’t last, but they had started saying that in September and had repeated it almost constantly throughout October. Val took it a day at a time. It couldn’t last forever and no one with a lick of good sense really wanted it to. Last winter’s drought had been the underlying cause of the summer’s awful forest fire starting on Logan’s Hill, and locals shuddered whenever someone mentioned that terrifying ordeal.

It was behind them now, but the barren, blackened hill, once so green and vibrant, was a strong reminder of the critical importance of a wet winter. It was really just a matter of time, people said with a nervous glance after praising the glorious weather of the day, as if to appease any bad-luck spirits that might be hovering in the immediate vicinity. After all, the long-range weather forecasters had predicted a hard winter, hadn’t they? One of these mornings, someone would always say, the town would wake up to snow, or at least to a drenching rainfall.

It was neither snowing nor raining when Val awoke the morning of November 4; sunshine peeked through the slats of the vertical blinds at her bedroom windows, creating long, thin lines on the far wall. She opened her eyes and lay there thinking. Today was Election Day and she was going to vote if it killed her.

It wouldn’t, of course, no more than her being part of Jinni’s wedding had. Other than that one fleeting weak spell, she had come through it like a trooper. Still, she hadn’t been really active since she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The whole thing had been a physically and emotionally draining ordeal, from the initial diagnosis to the day she’d heard her oncologist say, “There is no longer any sign of cancer, Valerie.”

She had been trying very hard to believe it was true, trying almost desperately to trust in her doctor’s prognosis, but she could not completely rid herself of doubt, fear and worry that it could come back. Every so often anxiety grabbed her in a viselike grip and wouldn’t let go, sometimes for days. She hated when that happened, but she hadn’t yet figured out a way to prevent the depressing occurrences. It was Jinni’s opinion that Val’s fear was a normal part of the healing process and would vanish in time. Val hoped so.

Lazily lying there, she found her thoughts drifting from her health concerns to the wonderful time Jinni and Max were undoubtedly having on their honeymoon, and then—for some unknown reason—to her parents. The Fairchilds hadn’t been terrible parents, merely uninterested and self-absorbed. Wealthy and generous, they had sent their daughters to the best schools in the country, when neither had wanted to leave home.

It was one of the topics she and Jinni had discussed at great length. They’d finally decided that their parents, now deceased, had loved them in their own way; it simply wasn’t the way kids needed to be loved.

“It’s what turned you into an animal doc,” Jinni had said matter-of-factly. “Pets love unconditionally. Neither of us got that from Mother and Dad.”

“You could be right, but it didn’t turn you into an animal doc,” Val had wryly pointed out. She could have explained—or tried to explain—that veterinary school was the aftermath of the nightmarish episode that had nearly destroyed her at age twenty-two, followed by long-term psychiatric counseling. Working with animals, which she had always loved, had been her escape, Val had later realized. Her primary therapist had recognized that and pushed to get her headed in a productive direction. Veterinary school had given her a goal, a reason to go on, a nudge back to normalcy.

It had only worked to a certain point, however. Val saw herself as a divided personality now, with one part hiding behind the other. Her strong side could make friends with undemanding people—folks like Jim and Estelle—run her business, lovingly care for sick animals and put up a darn good front for anyone curious enough to wonder what made Dr. Fairchild tick. There really was only one person in Rumor with any genuine—or maybe unnatural—curiosity about her, Val knew, and there was no way she was going to let Reed Kingsley get close enough to penetrate her facade of strength and get to her soft, vulnerable underbelly.

What she had to keep asking herself was why would a man who seemed to have it all bother with a woman like her? Had she ever given him more than a remote, polite smile? Or any reason to think she might be an easy mark? Never! He had to be flawed in some invisible way, which was one more reason to keep a safe distance between them. One of these days her disdain for his unwanted attentions would sink in. What in God’s name had he thought she would do when he’d asked her at the church if she was going straight home—simper over the possibility of spending the rest of the evening with him? Maybe the rest of the night? What a jerk!

Snorting disgustedly, suddenly tired of dissecting life in general and herself specifically, she threw back the covers, got up and headed for the shower.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a bright yellow cotton sweater, she walked into the kitchen and smiled at Estelle, who had arrived while Val was in the bathroom.

“Good morning. That coffee smells wonderful.”

“I brought some homemade coffee cake for your breakfast. You’re getting too skinny,” Estelle said.

Val stuck her forefinger into the waistband of her jeans and pulled it away from her body. There was about a two-inch gap. “These used to be tight,” she said.

“Well, you’re not eating enough. Sit down and I’ll fix you some eggs to go with that coffee cake.”

Val let her. Sometimes she liked being fussed over, and Estelle was a natural-born mother, certainly one of the kindest women Val had ever met. It had been a lucky day, indeed, when Jim and Estelle Worth had knocked on her door with a copy of the Rumor Mill, in which Val had placed a help-wanted ad.

Holding her cup of coffee in both hands, with her elbows on the table, Val asked, “Did you ride in with Jim today, or did you drive your own car?”

“I rode with Jim. Now, don’t you go worrying about a thing over at the clinic. I’m sure Jim has everything under control.”

Val smiled. “I’m sure he does.”

“We came in early to vote. Already did it.”

“Well, that’s where I’m going right after breakfast.”

“Glad to hear it. Oh, are you feeling up to a bit of shopping? We need some things if I’m going to do any real cooking today. Jim can do it if you’re not feeling well today.”

“I’m feeling fine, Estelle. Write up a list. I’ll take it with me and go to MonMart right after I vote.”

“Wonderful. I like seeing you getting out and about.”

“I like it, too,” Val murmured.

She looked out the window while she ate Estelle’s delicious scrambled eggs and homemade coffee cake. Her yard looked like fall. Mums and marigolds, the hardiest of plants, still bore scattered blooms, but there’d been enough heavy frosts at night to decimate everyone’s flower gardens. Still, it was her yard and she loved it, just as she loved her house. Jinni had thought the ranch house quaint when she first saw it, but Val thought it perfect for Rumor.

After vet school she had looked for a place to move and set up a practice. She’d found an ad in a trade journal that piqued her interest—an established small-animal clinic in a small town in Montana. After calling the man who was selling and bombarding him with questions, she had made the trip to Rumor and looked everything over for herself. Indeed, the town was small. She had never lived in a town without stoplights and heavy traffic, and Rumor, along with its surrounding countryside boasting so much incredible scenery, had struck Val as utterly charming. Money was not one of her problems; her parents had left her and Jinni very well off. She had made an offer for the clinic, which the owner accepted, and the day she’d arrived in Rumor she had looked for a reputable building contractor. The rather run-down clinic had become the modern and attractive Animal Hospital, and while those renovations were going on, her house had been built on the vacant land that had been included in her purchase.

So she had never thought of her house as quaint; to her it was warm and cozy and comfortable. Jinni would be much happier living in Max Cantrell’s fabulous mansion than she could ever be in a cozy little ranch house like this one, Val knew, but for her needs it was perfect.

Finished with breakfast, she got up and carried her dishes to the sink. Estelle immediately tut-tutted. “If you do the work around here, what do you need me for? Here’s the grocery list. Go vote and have a good time shopping.”

Laughing, Val took the list and went for her purse. Before leaving the house she told Estelle, “I’m going over to the clinic for a minute to check on those pups born yesterday. Then I’ll be gone…probably for a couple hours.”

“Take your time,” Estelle advised. “Relax and enjoy the day. It’s another beauty, and this weather won’t last much longer.”

Everyone said it, over and over again. Chuckling under her breath, Val left the house and walked toward her animal clinic. Everything might not be perfect in her world, but she was thankful for what was.

Chapter Two

Life was good for Reed Kingsley, and he knew it. He also knew that if some calamity should suddenly destroy his parents’ great wealth, and his own, he would still have a good life. Reed believed that his greatest personal asset was a genuine fondness for the human race. In simple terms, he liked people.

Reed considered his having grown up on a ranch to be a stroke of luck, since he had loved country living from the time he was big enough to sit a horse. In his heart, though, he believed he would have derived a connection to the land if home had been a two-acre operation instead of the many thousands making up the Kingsley Ranch.

That attitude wasn’t due to a lack of respect for his family’s good fortune. Nothing had ever been handed to the Kingsleys free of charge. The family had worked hard to make their ranch successful, and the fact that it was the biggest and most productive in the area was merely a result of their efforts.

Now, of course, the elder Kingsleys were able to enjoy the fruits of their labor. At age sixty-five, Stratton, Reed’s father, still mounted a horse and checked on the herds of healthy, hardy cattle in his fields, but not with the dedicated regularity of his early years. Stratton was becoming a gentleman rancher, a little more so each year. He had good men working for him, young cowboys full of vinegar, and the rides he took these days were more for enjoyment than necessity.

Then, too, he had MonMart on his mind. The immense discount store in Rumor was the flagship for what would soon become a national chain. Russell, Reed’s older brother, was the driving force behind MonMart’s inception and rapid expansion. Stratton was content to leave the kudos for MonMart’s astounding success to Russell—and most of the enormous responsibility, as well. He showed up at the administrative offices just often enough to keep his fingers in the pot and let everyone know that he backed his eldest son one hundred percent.

Reed couldn’t boast of anything as audacious as MonMart as a personal accomplishment, but then, he wasn’t the spitting image of his father, either, as Russell was. Russell could talk cattle, horses, land, irrigation and anything else that went with ranching but it was all business to him. To Reed the land was so much more than a means to make money.

Reed had never envied Russell’s business acumen or his younger brother Taggart’s long-ago declared and seemingly permanent independence from the family coffers. Tag was happily married and made his living as a carpenter—an extremely competent carpenter, by all accounts. In his own way, Tag was as much of a success as Russell, their father and Reed himself.

Reed also had a sister, Maura, and he considered Jeff Forsythe, who’d been in the family since age six, as another brother. All the Kingsley kids were married or engaged, except for Reed. Not that it bothered him to be the only hold-out. After all, his siblings had fallen in love and he hadn’t. He sure wasn’t going to get hitched just to join the pack.

Besides, he was happy as he was, content with his routines. For instance, he drove from his house—built awhile back on Kingsley land, same as Russell’s house was—to his parents’ home for early morning coffee. Carolyn, his mother, sometimes slept in, but usually she was up and active, planning her day and willing to talk about it. Stratton was always awake early, usually with plenty to say about the ranch, the MonMart chain, the family, the national and global news, or any other subject that might arise. It was a good way to start the day, and Reed rarely missed a morning.

Sometimes he did work at the ranch for his dad, and after that he drove to Rumor and put in a few hours at MonMart. Russell seemed to appreciate his input, and Reed enjoyed his time at the superstore.

Then he almost always went by the volunteer fire station. He was Rumor’s fire chief and even when no one else was at the station, he liked checking equipment and making sure everything was in order. Last summer’s fire had devastated the landscape for miles around and could have been worse; it could have turned and destroyed the town. It was a sobering thought, and Reed knew that while he’d always taken his job as fire chief seriously, the Rumor fire intensified his dedication to civic duty hugely.

This morning, Election Day, he drank coffee with his folks and discussed the candidates on the ballot. Around nine he drove to the Rumor courthouse, where voting booths had been set up in the lobby. He voted, then chatted with everyone he ran into, and finally turned his SUV back the way he’d come, toward MonMart. The superstore sat on twenty acres of lush, heavily treed land four miles from the center of town. Five acres were paved; the remaining acreage was gradually being turned into a park with bike paths and hiking trails. The store itself was Russell’s baby, but the park was Reed’s. Before the fire, his idea had been a good one. But after the conflagration that had blackened so much land south and southeast of town, it had mushroomed to greatness.

People already used the park, even though Reed didn’t consider it finished. Much of the underbrush had been cleared and some trails created, along with one bike path around the perimeter. But his plans included hiking trails crisscrossing the property, picnic areas, playgrounds for the younger set and a special area for youthful bikers and skateboarders. Also, he wanted to add plants and trees to spots of sparse vegetation. He had gone to the Billings office of the U.S. Forest Service and picked up several books and pamphlets about indigenous vegetation, so that along with what he already knew about the subject, he was able to lay out a sophisticated but sensible landscape blueprint.

His mother had become interested in the project and offered her services. Carolyn felt the town should be involved in both labor and finance. “People will feel a much stronger bond with the park if they help in some way to develop it, Reed,” she had told him.

He couldn’t disagree. His mother worked tirelessly for several fine charities, and he gladly turned over the financial end of the park’s development to her. Rumor Park, as he thought of it—though he would really like someone to come up with a more meaningful name—was going to belong to the people of Rumor. Once completed, it would be ceremoniously presented to the town. In the meantime, Carolyn was seeking the approval and assistance of state and national environmental groups and, to arouse further local interest and enthusiasm for the project, was planning a Christmas ball. It would be a swank affair—the likes of which had never before been seen in Rumor—and would be held in enormous, heated tents set up on a good-size area of MonMart’s parking lot. The decorations were going to be spectacular, and tickets were already sold out.

Reed grinned when he pulled into MonMart’s busy parking lot and envisioned the glamorous event, which was scheduled for the second week of December. The bank account that had been opened for park funds contained a large sum of money, and by spring, Rumor Park would be finished. Just thinking about it delivered a thrill to his system. He loved being involved in community affairs, and he sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t run for public office.

But then he would be tied to one job, and ever since high school he’d been happiest when juggling a dozen different duties and responsibilities.

After parking in the employees’ lot to the right of the store, he went in, whistling between his teeth. He felt so good it had to be a crime, he thought, grinning at the first person he saw. The young woman smiled back and said, “Good morning, Mr. Kingsley.”

“’Morning, Lois.” He went upstairs to the administration offices and stopped in at the video room, where a security officer kept an eye on a dozen monitors, the output of the surveillance cameras placed around the store. It was too bad that retailers had to guard against theft, but shoplifting was a national scandal, and even in a nice little town like Rumor some people couldn’t resist the temptation of sneaking goods into a pocket or handbag.

“How’s it going this morning?” Reed jauntily asked Homer, the computer whiz manning the equipment today.

“Same as always,” Homer replied with a big grin. “Busy downstairs. Looks like folks are getting an early start on Christmas shopping this year.”

Reed glanced at the monitors and nodded. “It does, doesn’t it? Goods have been pouring in and going out so fast it’s a race to keep the shelves stocked.”

“Well, you can’t knock success,” Homer drawled.

“Nope, sure can’t.” Reed made a move to leave, but then stopped short. He narrowed his eyes on a screen and bent closer to it. Was that woman in aisle twelve Valerie Fairchild? It was! His pulse quickened. Went a little bit wild, actually. Just the sight of her shopping made his blood run faster. He remembered his vow to leave her be, to never put himself in the position of being turned down by her again, but clinging to that oath while watching her with his own eyes wasn’t easy.

“What’s so interesting?” Homer asked, and took a look at the monitor Reed couldn’t seem to tug his eyes away from. “Did you spot something?”

“Just someone I know.” Reed pulled himself together. “See you later, Homer.” He hurried out and went to his office. But instead of sitting at his desk and doing something productive, he paced the floor and thought about Val. He’d felt so damn good not ten minutes ago. Now he ached all over, and he resented losing his fabulous mood over something so mundane as Valerie Fairchild doing her weekly grocery shopping.

By damn, he had every right to walk any aisle in the place! If he just happened to run into her—it had happened before—what could she do but be nice?

Groaning over Valerie’s polished ability to be nice and ice-cold at the same time, Reed told himself to forget it. To forget her! Why couldn’t he? He’d known women who were more beautiful, possibly women with more sex appeal, but she was the one he couldn’t get out of his mind.

Leaving his office to get himself a cup of coffee at the snack bar down the hall, he passed the surveillance room and couldn’t resist checking the monitors again to see where Val was now. Homer looked at him curiously, but Reed ignored him and searched each monitor screen until he found her. She was in the canned goods aisle, and she was… Bending over, he peered more closely at the image. What was she doing? It looked as if she was leaning against the shelves, but why would…

It hit Reed like a ton of bricks. Running from the room, he took the stairs two at a time, then rushed through the store like a madman. Everyone in town knew that Dr. Fairchild was recovering from breast cancer, and obviously she wasn’t fully recovered yet or she wouldn’t be propped against a damn shelf!

Reed hit the aisle running, saw Val still leaning there with her eyes shut, and hurried toward her. Bending low enough to anchor his left arm behind her knees, he scooped her in the air.

Val was so startled she just hung on while Reed Kingsley hurriedly strode to the front of the store, leaving her cart of groceries behind. Everyone they passed stopped dead in their tracks to stare, and her fury sprouted and grew. She was so furious by the time they went through the large automatic doors and outside that she could have cheerfully murdered the odious jerk intent on saving her from…from what? My God, she thought, with tears burning her eyes, this incident would be the talk of the town in five minutes!

“Put me down,” she said in a lethally low and hoarse voice, afraid that if she spoke with greater volume she would screech loud enough to wake the dead in the Rumor cemetery. She could feel her shoulder bag bumping against his leg as he walked, and wished it were sharp and pointed and beating a hole in his thigh. Maybe it was a cruel thought, but she had never been so embarrassed in her life.

“In a second,” Reed said. “You need some fresh air.” He kept going, heading for Val’s bright blue SUV. He recognized most of the vehicles around town, so it was no great feat to pick out Val’s in the nearly full parking lot.

People who were transferring purchases from carts to their vehicles stopped to study the sight of Reed Kingsley carrying Valerie Fairchild through the organized maze of parked cars and trucks.

While they gawked, Val seriously—hysterically—considered slapping Reed Kingsley silly, which was exactly what he deserved. But that would only give friends, neighbors and complete strangers something else to stare at. She wasn’t helpless; she knew she could wriggle and squirm and force him to put her down. But that would create another scene, and some of these shoppers were pet owners who brought their cats and dogs to the Animal Hospital. They knew her as the animal doc. Years from now they would still think of her in this debasing situation whenever they brought Snookums or Buffy or Killer in for a shot or some other procedure. She would never live this down—not ever!

Her only usable weapon was her voice and she went for it. “I wish I could think of some way to hate you more than I do at this moment,” she said in the same deadly tone she’d used before.

Reed was so shocked he nearly dropped her. He stopped walking and let her feet slide to the pavement. “I…I sure as hell didn’t do this to make you hate me,” he mumbled.

She wasn’t quite steady on her feet and reached out to the closest car, grabbing it for support. She had enough strength to glare into this wannabe rescuer’s eyes, though, with a look in her own that could have curdled milk. “What in hell did you think was going on in there?” she spat.

“You looked faint. You’re still pale.”

“I am not pale, and I wasn’t going to faint. How dare you humiliate me in front of the whole town? What do you do—imagine yourself as some kind of knight in shining armor, running around saving damsels in distress? You should be locked up!”

Reed was so shaken by her fury he could barely think at all, let alone come up with a reply. He’d honestly thought she needed help; obviously he’d made a huge mistake. He felt sick about it.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I really thought—”

“Go to hell!” She let go of the strange car and walked the short distance to her own.

“Wait! What about your groceries?” Reed called.

“Put everything back on the shelf or shove them where the sun don’t shine! I wouldn’t go back in there if the damn stuff was free!” Val got behind the wheel of her SUV, started the engine and backed out of her parking space. Her eyes were burning like fire, but that Kingsley jerk was still watching her and she would rather drown in her own salty tears than let him see her wiping them away.

Reed realized the enormity of his act when he returned to the store and found that everyone he met asked him what had happened. The incident would be the talk of the town for days, and he had smeared Val’s reputation by assuming something that wasn’t true. She hadn’t been feeling faint, she’d coldly told him; she’d been…what? She’d denied without explaining, but what would cause a woman to lean against shelving in a store?

Mumbling evasive answers to the curious, Reed hurried toward the stairs to the second floor. But when he remembered Val’s cart, he made a U-turn. It was right where she had left it. Right where he had caused her to leave it.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. The basket was loaded with meat, vegetables, dairy products, fruit and bakery goods. She’d done a lot of shopping, probably filling a weekly grocery list. And there it all sat. Would she calm down and come back for it?

“She won’t have to,” he said under his breath, pushing the cart toward the front of the store. At the first available checkout stand, he unloaded the pile of groceries and told the clerk to put the cost on his account, bag it and have it delivered to his office. He wasn’t sure what to do with it but he figured he’d think of something.

He did. When a bag boy—Joe Harte, who was juggling high school classes and his job, trying to save money for college—pushed a cart with five stuffed bags of food into his office about fifteen minutes later, Reed had a slip of paper ready. “Hi, Joe. You have a car, don’t you?” he asked the young man.

“I have a pickup.”

“That’ll do. I’d like this order delivered to this address.” He handed over the piece of paper. “Tell the supervisor you’re doing me a favor so you don’t get hassled about your absence, all right?”

“I’ll take care of it, Mr. Kingsley.” Joe left with the cart, heading for the elevator. Reed left, too, but he used the stairs, as he usually did.

Once in his vehicle he drove to town and straight to Jilly’s Lilies. Jilly, the owner and his cousin Jeff’s wife, wasn’t in, but her teenaged assistant, Blake Cameron was there. After a hello and how are you, Reed ordered flowers and wrote a message on a card, which he put in an envelope. Blake promised delivery within two hours, and Reed left.

His day was ruined, and he neither returned to MonMart nor stopped at the volunteer fire station. Instead he drove home, went inside, threw himself on the couch, stared at the vaulted ceiling overhead and tortured himself with the memory of Val saying that she wished there was a way to hate him more than she already did.

The day that had started out so great had turned sour—horrible, actually—and he wasn’t completely sure it was his fault. After all, he’d only tried to help. It was his nature to help anyone in need. Didn’t Val know him at all?

Val had fought flooded eyes and blurred vision all the way home. She was so upset that her whole body trembled. This had to have been the most humiliating experience of her life, or at least the most humiliating since her move to Montana. But strangely enough, when she finally pulled into her driveway, she wasn’t just angry with Reed Kingsley, the sophomoric jerk, she was furious with herself. Why had she said such terrible things to him? She never lost her temper, and she didn’t tell people she hated them just because they annoyed the hell out of her.

She turned off the engine and sat there staring into space while her stomach churned and her hands shook. Rumor was her home. Her business was here and there was no place else she wanted to live. But this was Reed Kingsley’s home, too, and Rumor was too small a town to completely avoid someone, especially if that person was hot on her trail, as he seemed to be. The man’s tenacity was amazing. She had never given him an ounce of encouragement, yet he kept showing up and making her notice him. Why, for God’s sake?

Groaning, Val opened the door of her SUV and got out. Estelle came outside and walked toward her. “I’ll help carry in the groceries,” she called.

Val’s spirits dropped another notch. “There aren’t any.”

Estelle had gotten close enough to see her face clearly. “Oh, my God, you’re pale as a sheet. What happened? Did you have a bad spell in the store? Well, don’t worry about the groceries. I’ll send Jim shopping later on.”

Was she really pale? Val frowned and brought her trembling hands to her face, as though she could detect the color of her skin with her fingertips.

“And you’re shaking like a leaf,” Estelle exclaimed. She took Val by the arm. “You are going straight to bed, my friend. Obviously you need to rest a bit.”

Val rarely argued with Estelle when it came to matters of health. The woman was a trained nurse working in the field all her life until retirement a few years back. She adhered to the common-sense school of medical treatment, and bed rest was high on her list of preferred remedies.

Besides, hiding in bed for the rest of this unnerving day held a massive amount of appeal for Val. She let herself be led along to her bedroom, and obediently undressed when Estelle asked if she wanted pajamas or a nightgown.

“Pajamas.”

Estelle went into the bathroom and returned with a thermometer, which she stuck in Val’s mouth, and a blood-pressure cuff she placed around her upper arm. Val sat quietly for the procedures, wishing that Jinni was back from her honeymoon. Her sister would know what to say about that debasing incident—probably something funny that would make Val feel like laughing instead of crying.

Estelle said, “Your blood pressure is fine.” She took the thermometer. “So is your temperature.”

“I only had one of those weak spells,” Val said. “I’m not ill, Estelle.”

“Well, I still think a little nap is in order.”

“I doubt if I’ll do any sleeping.” But she was getting into her pajamas, and her big, comfortable bed looked very inviting. Estelle folded back the bedding and Val obligingly climbed in.

“Do you still have that grocery list?” Estelle asked.

Val slid her gaze to the right, to the window, just to avoid meeting Estelle’s sharp eyes. She would hear about the incident—it was highly unlikely that anyone living within a twenty-mile radius of town would miss hearing about it—but Val couldn’t bring herself to talk about it. Not yet, at any rate. It was still too new, too painful to think about, let alone attempt to explain why she had left her groceries in one of MonMart’s busy aisles.

“It’s in the pocket of my jeans…I believe,” she murmured.

Estelle picked up the jeans from the chair Val had laid them on and dug into the pockets. “Here it is. Good. I’ll have Jim go to MonMart later on.” She went over to the window and shut the blinds, which darkened the room considerably. “You rest for at least an hour, hon,” she told Val. “Call if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Estelle.”

“You’re very welcome.” The front doorbell chimed. “Now who can that be?” Estelle exclaimed as she hurried from the room.

Val’s heart sank. If Reed Kingsley had dared to ring her doorbell, she was going to get out of this bed and—and… Well, she wasn’t sure what she would do, but it wouldn’t be pleasant. She sat up and listened intently, heard voices and movement in the house, but nothing she could pick up was distinct enough to enlighten her nervous curiosity. If it was Reed at her door, she thought with a sickish sensation in her stomach, she would probably do no more than yank the covers over her head and play dead. He wouldn’t really have the gall, would he?

Estelle finally returned and she was wearing a huge, excited smile. “Well, I never,” she began. “That was one of MonMart’s bag boys, Joe Harte, with all of your groceries. Doesn’t that beat all? He said that Mr. Kingsley asked him to deliver the food right away. It’s all in the kitchen. I have to get busy putting it away.”

Val was so dumbfounded she couldn’t even mumble a reply. After Estelle’s hasty departure Val’s mind went into overdrive, and she yelled, “What about payment?”

Estelle didn’t hear her, and Val lay back on the pillows and said again, this time at normal pitch and with an agonized ache throughout her entire system, “What about payment?”

It didn’t take very much thought to figure out how those groceries had gotten from a cart in MonMart’s canned goods aisle to her front door. She groaned, turned to her side, reached for some tissues from the box on her nightstand and let the tears flow. She knew—she knew, that she could beg Reed Kingsley from now until doomsday to tell her the total cost of that food so she could write a check for it, and he wouldn’t do it.

“Damn that man,” she whispered. She didn’t need his charity, and she didn’t want his friendship, even though she doubted that friendship was the only thing on his mind. She was thirty-five years old and saw a worn-out, used-up human being every time she looked in a mirror. She used to be vivacious and pretty, very much like Jinni still was, but these days she was barely a shadow of her former self. Why on earth would a vibrant, handsome, wealthy man—a Kingsley, no less—notice her, let alone do his ever-loving best to get her to notice him?

Chapter Three

Val dried her eyes, got out of bed with an angry flounce, yanked on her clothes and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Hiding in bed, even at Estelle’s advice, was cowardly and disgusting. She was fine and she had a business to run. People would talk about the MonMart incident until something better came along, and there was nothing she could do about it, so she might as well hold her head high and pretend not to notice.

She dabbed on a little lipstick, then, because her face really was pale, brushed some blusher on her cheeks. Her light brown hair was short, about jaw-length, and nicely cut. At least she liked the cut; whether anyone else did wasn’t something she worried about, although when she’d come home from The Getaway with the new style Estelle had complimented her on it.

It really didn’t matter. Val felt fortunate that her chemo treatments hadn’t taken her hair. It was still thick and glossy and now it was short and swingy and, Val thought, quite becoming.

She grimaced at her reflection. Her hairdo, or any other woman’s, would never make the Life’s Significant Priorities list. She’d learned what was important and what wasn’t the hard way, and hairstyles were absolutely meaningless in the overall scheme of things.

Val was on her way to the kitchen to let Estelle know that she was feeling good and going over to the clinic when the doorbell chimed again.

She blinked in disbelief. Standing on her stoop was Reed Kingsley with a huge bouquet of flowers and an almost tragic, puppy dog expression on his face.

“Valerie,” he said as he released a long breath, which, apparently, he’d been holding. “I ordered these at Jilly’s to be delivered as soon as possible, drove home, worried myself sick over what happened at MonMart, then rushed back to town to deliver them myself.” He held out the bouquet. “Will you accept these flowers and my heartfelt apology?”

She looked at the flowers, at Reed, at the flowers, at Reed, then turned her face away and wished she had stayed in bed.

“Could I come in for a minute?” he asked, startling her further.

The man was a barnacle, she thought drearily. He had, for some reason of his own, attached himself to her, and she was never going to be free of him. It was a depressing thought, and if there was anything Val didn’t need these days, it was something else to lower her already down-in-the-dumps spirits.

But how could she say, “No, you cannot come in, and I don’t want either your flowers or your apology. Please leave and never darken my door again.” The bottom line was she couldn’t. Reed Kingsley might be the most annoying human being she knew but he was a man to reckon with in Rumor. He was one of the town’s movers and shakers, and she certainly didn’t need enemies in the business community—especially now. Business had slowed during her illness, with people taking their pets to Whitehorn or Billings because their local vet wasn’t available. Next on her to-do agenda was to rebuild her reputation and her client list by putting a back-to-work announcement in the Rumor Mill—and, whether or not she liked it, accepting Reed’s apologetic gesture.

She stepped back and swung the door open; it was silent permission to enter, and she hoped he didn’t take her concession as any form of surrender. She was giving him nothing but a minute or two of her time. She hoped he understood that without her spelling it out in succinct terms.

Reed’s heart pounded. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about entering a woman’s home. He’d always been confident in his innate ability to talk to people, both men and women, and his lack of confidence with Val Fairchild was damn disturbing.

“Uh, maybe you’d like to take these,” he said after she had closed the door. She wouldn’t like to take them; she didn’t want them, but she forced herself to accept the bouquet and say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Val, I’d like to explain what happened today…explain why I did what I did.”

“You already did that. In MonMart’s parking lot.” She saw Estelle peering around the kitchen doorway and held out the flowers. “Estelle, would you please put these in a vase?”

Smiling broadly, the housekeeper walked over and took the flowers from Val. “Oh, they’re lovely. Hello, Reed, how are you?”

“Fine, Estelle, and you?”

“I really can’t complain.”

“And how’s Jim?”

“Well, he has that arthritis, you know. It flares up every so often, but he’s been just fine this fall. Hasn’t this weather been remarkable?”

“Remarkable and a little scary. We’ve experienced the result of a dry winter firsthand, and we sure don’t want a repeat of last summer’s fire.”

“Heavens, no,” Estelle agreed with a small shudder. “We nearly lost our town.”

“We came very close, Estelle.”

Val had to bite her tongue to keep from rudely interrupting this friendly little exchange. Of course Estelle knew Reed Kingsley—everyone knew Reed Kingsley! She was probably the only person within a hundred-mile radius who didn’t want to know him!

Estelle smiled and began easing away. “I’ll put these in water. Nice seeing you, Reed.”

“Nice seeing you, Estelle.” He waited until she was back in the kitchen before he looked at Val again. “They’re a great couple, aren’t they?” he said. “I’m talking about Estelle and Jim, of course.”

“I grasped that all on my own,” Val said dryly. “Imagine that.”

Reed’s face reddened. “I never quite say the right thing to you, do I?” He tried to smile and knew it came off weak. “I think you make me nervous.”

“I doubt if anyone makes you nervous, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Mr. Kingsley? Can’t you bring yourself to call me Reed?”

“Well, I can, of course, but since we hardly know each other…”

“That’s not my fault.”

“Meaning it’s mine? Well, fine. I can live with that.”

“I wasn’t placing blame. But you said we hardly know each other and that’s something I’ve been trying to rectify. We’re not getting very far, though, are we, not when you object to using my first name because we’re not bosom buddies. Val, very few people around here stand on ceremony. There’s very little formality in and around Rumor.” Reed felt his face heating up again. “You already know that, don’t you? You’ve lived here long enough to know everything I do.”

“I doubt if I could ever catch up with you on anything,” she said coolly, hoping he realized that the word anything, in this instance, was a blatant reference to his reputation with women. “Nor, I might add, do I care to try. But since small-town informality seems so crucial to you, I’ll use your first name.”

How long was he going to stand around her foyer with that hopeful look in his eyes? She hadn’t invited him into the living room, offered him a chair or refreshments. She hadn’t done any of the things folks in Rumor did when someone dropped in. Reed didn’t take hints, obviously, and she was trying to avoid overt rudeness, but she was getting very close to it, all the same.

He cleared his throat. “Getting back to that explanation I mentioned…”

“Really, there’s nothing that needs saying. You thought I required rescuing and I didn’t. It was an unfortunate incident. I’m sure we’ll both live it down…eventually.” Reed’s expression turned sickly before her eyes, but she pretended not to notice.

“You really can’t accept my apology, can you?” he said, sounding miserable.

“I could lie and say yes. Would that appease your conscience?” Inwardly she winced, as that remark and question had definitely been rude. But why didn’t he accept her lack of interest and leave?

Reed decided it was time to go. She was a hard, dispassionate woman, impossible to get to know. Why did he keep trying?

“Well, enjoy the flowers,” he said, speaking in a much cooler tone himself. “And you have my promise that if I ever see you looking pale and leaning against shelves of green beans again, I’ll walk right on past.”

Val’s eyes widened in surprise. That was the first thing he’d ever said to her that warranted respect. Apparently her disdain had finally sunk in.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, and opened the door for him. He gave her one last look and then hurried out. She shut the door behind him, mumbled, “Finally,” and turned the dead bolt.

The snap of the lock was heard by both of them. It gave Val a sense of security and made Reed wince. He walked to his SUV with his head down.

Val went into the kitchen and tried to ignore the flowers Estelle was arranging in Val’s best crystal vase. “I’m going over to the clinic, Estelle,” she said.

“Okay, honey.” The housekeeper stepped back to study her handiwork. “Aren’t these just beautiful?”

“Lovely,” Val murmured, trying to sound as though she cared. “Estelle, I picked out a great prime rib at MonMart. Was it part of the delivery?” Her hand suddenly leaped to her lips. “Oh, hell,” she moaned. “Why didn’t I make that man tell me the cost of all that food? I never even thought of it.”

“That man’s name is Reed Kingsley,” Estelle said dryly.

“I know his name. But I wish I didn’t.”

Estelle’s eyes widened. “For heaven’s sake, why not? Everyone likes Reed.”

“Not everyone. Estelle, was that prime rib delivered?”

“Yes, it’s in the refrigerator. I was going to ask if you wanted it in the freezer.”

“I want it in the oven, if you don’t mind cooking it, that is. And I’d like you and Jim to stay for dinner and help me eat it.”

“Well, that would be nice. When you see Jim, ask him if he has other plans. I don’t, but you never know what’s on his mind.”

“And you don’t accept invitations without his say-so,” Val said quietly.

Estelle smiled. “Of course not.”

Val would never point out that Estelle often let Jim’s plans come before hers, because they were truly the happiest married couple she’d ever known, and it certainly wasn’t her place to point out what she considered to be a few small inequities in the relationship. She had wondered, since getting to know the Worths, how their marriage had survived for so long, when so many others did not. One thing she’d noticed repeatedly was that Estelle and Jim truly seemed to like each other. There were deeper affections between them—Val could sense that—but their liking was out in the open and pleasant to be around.

“I’ll talk to Jim about it and let you know.”

“Good.” Estelle returned to her flower arranging and picked up a perfect pink rose. “Oh, my, this is lovely. Honey, are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go over there today?” she asked with her back to Val.

“I’m sure. Talk to you later.”

“You take care now, you hear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Estelle was chuckling when Val left the kitchen and then the house.

Reed felt at such loose ends that none of his normal activities held any appeal. He didn’t want to return to MonMart and sit at a desk, he didn’t want to go home and walk the floor again, nor did he want to stop in at the fire station. That really threw him. He always derived personal satisfaction and enjoyment from checking equipment and chin-wagging with any of the volunteers who happened to be there. Not today.

After leaving Val’s home, he drove around town with a knot in his gut and tried to find some focus. All he could think about were her cutting remarks, the ice in her voice, the disdain in her beautiful aqua-blue eyes…all aimed at him. If he had fallen over dead in her foyer, she would have stepped around his lifeless body as though it weren’t there. He was nothing to her, less important than the dirt under her feet.

How could that be? He had never been anything but nice to her. Did she sense something sexual in his feelings for her, loathe the idea and want to make darn sure that she didn’t encourage it?

Trouble was, she encouraged feelings of that nature without realizing it. The chemistry between them was overwhelming and nearly swamped him every time he was within fifty feet of her, even though she obviously noticed none of it.

Reed ended up back at MonMart, but he didn’t go into the superstore. Instead, he headed for the unfinished park behind it and took a long meandering hike. It helped.

Val called the house from her office at the Animal Hospital. “Estelle, Jim said prime rib for dinner sounded great. We’re on, okay?”

“Great. We’ll eat around six. I’m going to make mashed potatoes and gravy. You need some fattening up.”

“I happen to like being thinner.”

“Your clothes are practically falling off. You either have to put on some weight or go shopping.”

“Maybe I’ll go shopping. See you later.”

Jim came in just as Val was hanging up. “Did you call the paper yet? You said to remind you.”

“All taken care of. The announcement will appear in tomorrow’s newspaper and continue for a week. I think a week should do it, don’t you?”

“It should,” Jim agreed.

Michael Cantrell walked into the sheriff’s office and up to the deputy on desk duty. “I want to see my uncle.”

“Again? Don’t you have better things to do than hang around a jailbird?”

“He’s not a jailbird. He’s innocent.”

“Invisible, too, huh?” Several of the deputies loved kidding Michael about Guy’s invisibility story. Guy had told the whole story at a community gathering held in MonMart’s parking lot just before his arrest for the murders of his wife and her boyfriend. Guy had explained how the fire had started on Logan’s Hill, and how he’d been knocked unconscious by his wife’s lover, only to realize when he came to that he was invisible. He’d been splashed with his formula for the rapid healing of burn scars. Invisibility was an unforeseeable, temporary side effect of the formula, and he’d been as stunned by it as the townspeople, considering they had stared at him with their mouths open.

Michael flushed hotly. “He’s not invisible now.” He added defensively, “But he was.”

“Yeah, me too. Helps keep the laundry down.”

“You’re not funny,” Michael mumbled, red-faced.

The deputy chuckled. “Sure I am.”

Sheriff Holt Tanner came in. “Hank, let the boy see his uncle!”

“I was just funnin’ him, Holt.”

“Well, stop funnin’ him and move Guy from his cell to the visitor’s room.”

The deputy walked off, still chuckling, and Michael nervously shifted from foot to foot while waiting for word that he could go back to the visitor’s room. When the deputy returned and escorted him there, Michael saw his uncle sitting on one side of a long table in handcuffs. He took a chair on the other side of the table and waited until the deputy left the room and locked the door.

Then he said, with tears in his eyes, “Hi, Unk. How you doing?” Unk was what he had called Guy since childhood, since realizing that his uncle was a brilliant scientist and so was he. Well, maybe not brilliant yet, but he would be. Someday.

Although Guy didn’t feel in the least like smiling, he smiled for his fifteen-year-old nephew, whom he loved like a son. “I don’t want you worrying about me, Michael.”

“I know, Unk.”

“But I really appreciate your visits,” Guy said quietly. He forced another smile. “Now, tell me what’s happening in Rumor. Have you heard from your dad and his new wife? When are they due back from their honeymoon? And how’s Ma taking all of this? You’re still staying with your grandmother, aren’t you? Until your dad gets home? Tell me everything, Michael.”

“Mostly people are talking about your formula, even though no one understands it,” Michael said.

“You know something, Michael? I don’t understand it, either.”

Dinner was delicious. Estelle was a good cook and the prime rib was roasted to tender, juicy perfection. The numerous side dishes were as tasty as food could be, and Val truly tried to do justice to the wonderful meal.

But after a few bites of the small portions she had taken, her appetite was fully satisfied. She took a swallow of the iced tea Estelle had also prepared.

“I made an applesauce cake for dessert,” Estelle said. “I know you like that.”

“Estelle, I liked the whole meal. I’m full.”

“Well, I’m sure you can squeeze in a small piece of cake.”

“Absolutely, but not right now. You two finish eating. Just because I can’t get another bite down my gullet doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the rest of your dinner. I’ll sit here with my tea, all right?”

“Well, you’re too thin and you’re not eating enough, but I guess if you’re full, you’re full.”

“Leave her be, sweetheart,” Jim said. “She looks fine the way she is.”

Val smiled. “Thanks, Jim.”

“I think Reed Kingsley agrees with you,” Estelle said rather pertly to her husband.

Val’s smile vanished, a dead giveaway to her sudden discomfort. “Let’s not talk about him,” she said quickly.

“Is ol’ Reed on your trail?” Jim asked in a teasing way. “When did that start?”

“He is not on my trail! For heaven’s sake, he’s the biggest pest this side of the Mississippi. And he embarrassed me to tears in MonMart today. If he has any silly ideas about me, he might as well get rid of them.”

Estelle put down her fork. “What do you mean, he embarrassed you?”

Val sighed. “I might as well tell you about it. I’m sure it’s the main topic of conversation at every dinner table in town.” In as few words as possible, she related the still-embarrassing incident.

“Well!” Estelle exclaimed. “That certainly explains that grocery delivery. And that hundred dollar bouquet of flowers sitting over there.”

They all looked at the vase of flowers on the dining room sideboard, where Estelle had placed it. “So we can enjoy these lovely flowers while we eat,” she had said.

Estelle cocked her left eyebrow and met her husband’s curious eyes. “Delivered by Reed himself, in case you’re wondering.”

Val felt resentment for the man again churning her insides. “I don’t even like cut flowers in the house.”

“Oh, you do, too,” Estelle declared. “Jinni always had a vase of flowers in your room when you were feeling ill, and you loved looking at them. You said you did, anyway.”

Val heaved a sigh. “Okay, fine, I do like flowers in the house, but I don’t like Reed Kingsley’s flowers.”

“Now, that makes sense,” Estelle said dryly. “Should I throw them out?”

“I’ll do that myself. Let’s talk about something else. Jim, I think those pups might be full-blooded Labs.”

“Well, the mother sure is. Why in heck someone would desert a nice dog like her sure beats me.”

The female Labrador had been hanging around the Animal Hospital for several days before Jim brought her inside. He’d been putting food out for her because she obviously had no home.

Val had then examined her and told Jim to put her in the Dog House to await the birth of her pups—the large area designed and constructed for the care and kenneling of dogs. The Animal Hospital also had a Cat House. That name often tickled Jim’s funny bone, which it had done to Val, too, when she’d thought it up and had signs made for both of the kennel areas.

They all chatted about the animals presently under Val’s care until the end of the meal. Jim and Estelle had a slice of cake with a dollop of whipped cream on it, but Val just sipped her tea and waited for them to finish.

“I’ll take care of the dishes,” she told Estelle. “You did enough today.”

“Well…the pans I used are already washed and put away. I suppose putting the dishes into the dishwasher wouldn’t be too strenuous for you. All right, we’ll go on home. Come on, Jim, I’m just about ready for bed.”

Val rose from her chair. “You worked hard all day. You always do much more than I pay you to do, Estelle.”

The older woman waved her hand. “We’ll have none of that now. I know my limits and I rarely overdo.”

“This house was never kept as clean as it’s been since you took over,” Val said.

“Well, I do like things clean and smelling good.”

Val followed Estelle and Jim around until they had collected their things and left through the back door. Immediately Val felt the silence of the house, but she didn’t mind it. Sometimes she liked being alone, which had a lot to do with why she had bought her cabin in the mountains. Whenever she felt crushed under the weight of old memories or current problems, she drove the eighty miles to the cabin and absorbed the peace and quiet for a weekend.

She’d been thinking a lot about her rustic cabin lately, and she considered going to the mountains this coming weekend. She was well enough now to make the drive, wasn’t she? If only those darn weak spells would stop. She’d discussed them with her doctor, and he’d told her they were normal and would gradually subside.

Okay, she decided, I’ll go to the cabin this weekend if there are no more spells this week. If there are, then maybe I’ll put it off for another week.

Val was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and the front of the appliances, when something on the floor caught her eye. It was small and white and lying under the edge of a cabinet. Estelle had obviously missed seeing it or it wouldn’t be there. Val bent over and picked it up. It was a small envelope with a Jilly’s Lilies logo in the upper left corner, and it was sealed.

Obviously it had come with the flowers and fallen to the floor before Estelle had seen it. Frowning, because it of course contained a message from Reed Kingsley, Val thought about tossing it in the trash without opening it.

She couldn’t quite do that, and grimacing over what could only be described as plain nosiness, she slit the tiny envelope open with a knife and extracted the card. Embossed at the very top of it were two words: Sweet Talk.

Val moved to a chair and sank down on it. Sweet Talk. For God’s sake, why would Reed Kingsley pick out a card with that heading? Below it, of course, was some handwriting—his, obviously.

Val, I can sweet-talk with the best of them but, strangely, not with you. Still, I keep wishing you’d give me the chance to try sometime. Anytime. Forgive my transgressions, if you can, and let yourself see the real me. Reed K.

Groaning, Val put her arms on the table and her head on them. He wanted to “sweet-talk” her? Why? Damn it, why?

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