Читать книгу Suddenly Home - Loree Lough - Страница 11

Until he’d looked up and seen her there on the roof, Alex had never seen much farther than the end of his own nose. Especially when it came to the needs of others. Especially since the accident.

Oh, he’d done the typical favors for friends and acquaintances, like helping them move from apartments into homes when he wasn’t on assignment, letting them use his pickup when he was. Once, when he was stationed in Florida, his next-door neighbor won a trip to the Bahamas. It was Alex who, twice a day, let himself into her apartment to feed her cat. While living in California, he watered a neighbor’s roses rather than see the elderly gent’s rose club registration fee—and the work he’d put into the roses to that point—go to waste.

He’d never minded doing the favors. Hadn’t felt imposed upon by the neighbors who’d asked them of him. But suddenly there was a nagging question in his mind, one Alex doubted he would have asked himself if he hadn’t met Taylor.

Would he have volunteered his help if that help hadn’t been requested?

He was ashamed to admit the answer was no.

Wouldn’t have been hard to admit if the answer had been the result of a hectic schedule. Truth was, he’d simply never thought to offer. And what kind of person did that make him?

Not the kind who deserved a woman like Taylor Griffith….

He shifted uncomfortably in his easy chair, remote control in hand. As the colorful, musical images of TV chefs and sports figures and rumpled detectives whizzed by on the screen, Alex scowled. Shouldn’t have agreed to that date, he grumbled inwardly. Only thing you have in common with that woman is…

As he gave it a moment’s thought, his thumb relaxed on the up button. A home shopping host held up a glittering half-carat diamond. The glint and glow of the stone reminded him of Taylor, each spark, each glimmer illuminating yet another facet of her character. The longer he knew her, the more she seemed to shine.

Compared to her, he felt like a chunk of wet chalk.

Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter. Whether or not they had anything in common made no difference, either. He liked her. Had, the instant he set eyes on her in that overcrowded plane, liked her more still when they made the suitcase exchange in the tiny foyer of her house. The church brunch, her tender loving care after the cat rescue…every minute in her company was incentive enough to want to spend hours, weeks, months with her.

Alex slumped into his chair, telling himself it was boredom, restlessness, frustration with his life that made him think he was falling for this near stranger. Clapping a hand over his face, he closed his eyes to block the TV’s flickering light.

“Shouldn’t have said yes to the date,” he muttered sleepily. He didn’t fight the drowsiness. Maybe sleep would provide a haven from the unsettling feelings Taylor had aroused in him….

Now that she knew what caused his limp, Taylor had to warn herself to be careful. She’d always been a sucker for someone in pain, whether physical or emotional—it’s how she’d gotten in over her head with Kent—and Alex Van Buren seemed to have suffered his share of pain and agony, especially lately.

She got a mental picture of him, outfitted in a flight suit, standing beside a fast-flying fighter plane, smiling with the knowledge that he did heroic things every time he snapped the bubble canopy shut overhead.

And he was a hero, no doubt about that.

When Taylor heard about his past, she made it her business to learn more about the accident. An article, buried among reams of information she dug up on the Internet, explained how his F-16 Fighting Falcon had been struck by lightning, causing a complete shutdown of the controls. The plane was one of the manufacturer’s latest releases, designed to go farther and faster than any F-16 before it. The test Alex had been performing the day of his crash involved the new agile beam radar and state-of-the-art mission computer. Equipped with bigger fuel tanks to ensure greater range, the fighter was, in Taylor’s layman’s opinion, an explosion waiting to happen. It was a miracle that Alex had survived.

And she thanked God that he had.

Everything about him brought out the protector in her, starting with the limp…and every masculine emotion that made him try so desperately to hide it. The urge to care for him had swelled up as she’d swabbed the cuts and scrapes put there when he caught Barney. But that hadn’t been the first or the only time she’d felt it.

Before she’d even known his name, Taylor had wanted to comfort him as he hobbled past her in the big tube connecting their jetliner to the airport terminal. The feeling had bubbled up again when he left her house that day, limping more because of the weight of his big, bulky suitcase.

One look into his dark, shining eyes was all it took to tell her that something good, something decent lived inside this man. Oh, he did his best to hide it behind a practiced smile and well-timed jokes, but Taylor sensed it all the same. Not such an easy feat when she admitted seeing the same things in the mirror.

Taylor snapped on the light beside her recliner, intent upon reading Sunday’s newspaper, cover to cover. She’d made it to the food section when the phone rang, startling her so badly she nearly overturned her teacup.

“Hello?”

“Taylor. It’s Alex. Calling about the, ah, that church thing you were telling me about?”

Taylor squeezed her eyes shut. Please, God, she prayed, don’t let him back out. It was a foolish prayer that made her feel like a schoolgirl in the throes of a silly crush. That didn’t make it any less heartfelt.

“Don’t tell me you’re calling to cancel,” she blurted out. As if the action might help her stuff the words back into her mouth, Taylor pressed her fingertips to her lips.

After a slight pause, she heard him clear his throat. Already she’d decided it was something he did when uncomfortable, uneasy, uncertain. Oh, fine, she scolded herself. Now you’ve gone and done it!

He’d see her as that silly schoolgirl now. And what did a man like that, who’d risked life and limb for his country, want with a—

“No,” came his calm, masculine voice, “I was actually calling to find out if we’re supposed to meet at Resurrection, or if I should pick you up.”

Taylor blinked. Swallowed. “Well, I hadn’t really—”

“Because if it’s up to me,” he continued, “I’d prefer coming to get you.”

Brows high on her forehead, she felt herself smile. Really? she thought.

“If you have something to do, I’ll understand….”

“Do?”

“I know you’re pretty heavily involved over there at the, uh, at the church. I just thought maybe you had, um, stuff to set up or something.”

She hoped her laughter wouldn’t sound too relieved. “No. In fact, I’m not even on the cleanup committee this time.”

Yet the minute the words were out, Taylor regretted them. Would he take it to mean she expected to be invited out afterward? For ice cream, or a walk in the park? For a glass of lemonade or a stroll along Main Street?