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Suddenly strong hands grasped her shoulders from behind and swung her around.
“Merrilee June. Long time, no see.” The rich, deep voice initiated a cascade of memories, all pleasurable; ones she’d worked hard to forget.
She glanced up at Grant Nathan, who’d intercepted her. If bad luck came in bundles, here was walking proof. For six years she’d managed to avoid him, had worked hard to push him from her mind. Now she tried to stop the corresponding flutter of her heart. She might as well have attempted to stop its beating.
If anything, the vet was even more attractive than she’d remembered, exuding enough self-confidence and masculinity to make any woman’s heart stutter. She’d forgotten how tall he was, well over six feet, and his practice as a country vet, tramping through fields, lifting small animals and maneuvering cows and horses for treatment, had given him a physique few personal trainers could replicate. In spite of her efforts not to, she remembered too well how many times she’d nestled her head against those broad shoulders and how comforting the embrace of his strong arms had been.
Six years had added a maturity that sat well on the strong planes of his tanned face. Tiny lines from laughter and squinting in the bright sun framed bourbon-brown eyes flecked with gold. A few premature strands of gray, threaded through his thick honey-colored hair at the temples, were the only visible signs of his thirty-four years. His dimpled grin displayed the same boyish charm and reminded MJ too well of the many times those lips had kissed hers.
She shoved aside the memories, whose pull had been both the driving force and the toughest part of her decision to leave Pleasant Valley for good. “What are you doing here, Grant? Taking a trip?”
He held her by the shoulders with strong but gentle hands, and his gaze searched her face, as if in assessment. “I’m on an errand of mercy. Your grandmother sent me to pick you up.”
MJ wiggled from his grasp before she succumbed to the desire to snuggle against him, as she had so often in the old days. Those times were gone forever. “You’ve wasted a trip. I’m renting a car.”
“Mrs. McDonough said there’s no need. And she doesn’t want you driving while you’re agitated.”
MJ’s temper soared. “I’d be a lot less agitated if I knew what the hell is going on.” Already worried sick about her folks, she resented having to struggle with old feelings for Grant Nathan, too. “Besides, I’ll need a car of my own, so you might as well leave.”
Grant shook his head. “You grandmother said you can use hers. She doesn’t drive much these days.”
MJ’s breath caught in her throat. “Nana’s all right?”
“Feisty as ever,” Grant said with a grin.
“Then what’s the family emergency she called me about?” Her anger flared again, and a sneaking suspicion kicked in. “This isn’t just a ploy to lure me home, is it?”
MJ wouldn’t put it past Nana to play at matchmaking, but surely even her persistent grandmother recognized that what MJ had shared with Grant was long over.
Grant’s expression sobered. He glanced across the concourse as if to avoid her gaze. “I don’t know if emergency is the word I’d use, but you’re definitely needed here.”
MJ’s knees went weak and she sank onto the nearest seat. “My mom? Dad? Are they okay?”
“They’re not sick or injured, if that’s what you’re asking.” Again he evaded her eyes.
“But they’re okay?” she insisted.
Grant looked ill at ease. “I promised your grandmother I’d let her fill you in.”
MJ crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw. “I’ve been up all night, I’m worried out of my mind, and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
“Merrilee June—”
“I’m MJ now.”
Grant’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Why?”
“So I don’t sound like a character from Gone With the Wind,” MJ said irritably. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?”
“MJ,” Grant said with a grimace, as if the nickname left a bad taste in his mouth, “you know I won’t go back on my word to your grandmother.”
“A thousand horrible possibilities are driving me crazy! Don’t you feel any loyalty to me?”
His expression darkened. “As I recall, you cut me loose from any obligation six years ago.”
MJ’s panic meter was registering overload. She grabbed Grant by the biceps and attempted to shake him. She might as well have tried to move a tree. “Then for old times’ sake, please tell me what’s wrong.”
Her voice, loud and frantic, traveled across the concourse, drawing stares from other travelers.
“Calm down, Merrilee June, or I’ll have to go to my truck for horse tranquilizers.”
“Calm down!” Her voice rose an octave. “How calm would you be in my place?”
“The sooner we get going, the sooner your grandmother can fill you in,” Grant said, so reasonably she wanted to hit him. “I’ve already told you it’s not a life-and-death matter. Cat and Jim couldn’t be healthier. Sally Mae will explain the rest.”
Admitting defeat, MJ released her grip. She’d forgotten how stubborn Grant could be. Not actually forgotten, she realized. She’d simply relegated everything about him to the back of her mind. When she’d first moved to New York, that tactic was the only way she’d survived missing him.
“Is that all your luggage?” Grant nodded toward her camera bag.
MJ shook her head. “I have another bag. I didn’t know how long I’d have to stay. Still don’t,” she said accusingly, “since I haven’t a clue why I’m here in the first place.”
Grant grasped her elbow and steered her toward the baggage claim area. “I’m not breaking my promise to Sally Mae by admitting you’ll be here a good while.”
“A week?” MJ prodded.
“Probably longer,” Grant said, “but, hey, it’s spring-time in Pleasant Valley. You might as well enjoy it.”
At Grant’s easy manner, MJ’s anxiety lessened slightly. As her father’s business partner, Grant was fond of both her parents. If they were in imminent danger, he wouldn’t be so relaxed. Intense curiosity replaced her fears. What in heaven’s name was going on that would make Nana call her home from New York in the middle of the night? And how serious was the situation that solving it could take weeks?
MJ quickened her steps. Nana had a lot of explaining to do.
MJ parted with Grant at the baggage carousel and waited for her luggage while he went for his truck. When she picked up her bag, exited the airport and found him parked at curbside, her heart did flip-flops. The pickup was new, but the same make and color as the truck he’d had six years ago.
The years melted away and she was a college student again, home for spring break and waiting for Grant to arrive at her parents’ house. She’d known Grant all her life. He was six years older, but MJ had been best friends with his sister Jodie. The Nathans lived around the block from the Strattons, their backyards adjoined, and MJ and Jodie had been inseparable as children, even though Jodie had been two grades ahead of MJ in school. For MJ, an only child, Jodie had been the sister she’d always wanted. And Grant had been the handsome big brother, one who couldn’t be bothered with “the DTs,” short for Double Trouble, as he’d called MJ and Jodie.
The summer before MJ’s senior year in college, everything had changed.
Until that summer, she hadn’t seen much of Grant for years. First, he’d gone away to college, then veterinary school, and finally to an internship at an animal clinic in Georgia. Jodie had kept MJ informed of her brother’s activities in her letters to MJ at school, but MJ, busy with college courses and new friends, hadn’t given much thought to the boy she’d had a crush on through elementary and high school.
The summer after her junior year, her parents had welcomed her home with such enthusiasm that MJ again experienced momentary guilt at choosing a college in California that had kept her so far away. After only a few hours with her mother and father, however, her guilt had dissipated. Cat and Jim Stratton, even after more than two decades of marriage, were obviously crazy in love and the best of friends, as well. Merrilee June, as she’d called herself then, had recognized that when she eventually left home for good, her parents would miss her daily presence, but as long as they had each other, their lives would be complete.
“We’re having company for dinner,” her mother had announced upon Merrilee’s return from college for the summer. “Your father’s new partner.”
Merrilee had rounded on her father with concern. “A partner? You’re not slowing down?”
Jim Stratton had been in his late forties, which, to Merrilee, had seemed ancient at the time.
“On the contrary,” her father had said with that amiable grin she adored. With his dark brown hair and soft gray eyes, Merrilee had always thought him the most handsome man in the world. No wonder her mother loved him so much.
“The practice is growing so fast,” her father had explained, “I need all the help I can get. I’ve been working weekends for too long. I want to spend more time with your mother.”
Cat had winked at her daughter. “What he really means is he’s missing too many ball games on his brand-new, big-screen TV.”
But Merrilee had known better. Her parents had always enjoyed activities together: hiking, white-water rafting and picnics in the nearby Smoky Mountains, tending the vegetable garden that consumed most of the backyard and driving to Greenville or Asheville to attend concerts. For as long as Merrilee could remember, her parents had loved playing records from the fifties and sixties and dancing something they called “the Shag” with the furniture pushed aside in the family room. The snappy and sensuous movements of the dance had caused electricity to crackle between them. And when her father did watch sports on TV, her mother was right beside him, engrossed in the game and yelling caustic comments at the officials, just like one of the guys. Her dad had jokingly bought her mother a rubber-foam brick she could throw at the umpires and not damage the screen.
Another favorite sport of Jim Stratton’s was the opportunity to introduce his wife to someone new.
“Cat?” the person would usually ask. “Is that short for Catherine?”
Her mother would shake her head. “For Catawba. It’s the name of the river near Rock Hill where my father grew up. He loved the river and the name, so I was stuck with Catawba.”
Jim Stratton’s eyes would twinkle with delight. “Good thing her dad didn’t live on the river near Asheville. Instead of having a wife named Catawba, I’d have a French Broad,” he’d explain with a satisfied chuckle and suggestive leer.
“Jim, please!” Cat’s response was always indignant, but her soft blush and the gleam in her eye revealed that her mother actually loved her father’s teasing.
For most of her life, all Merrilee had ever wanted was a man who’d love her like her father loved her mother. Although she’d worried that she’d never find a love as perfect as her parents’, she’d still expected to marry, raise her children in Pleasant Valley and spend the rest of her life there.
But fate had other plans. When Merrilee chose to study fine arts at the University of California, her life changed forever. Aside from the occasional trip to Atlanta and family vacations to Florida, Merrilee had spent all her life in the town where she was born. California was culture shock.
“You wouldn’t believe this place,” she’d written Jodie. “It’s totally different from the isolation of our ultraconservative Pleasant Valley. I’ve met people on campus from all over the world, and on weekends and holidays, I’ve traveled from San Diego to Monterey. The art museums, the restaurants, the theaters are incredible! And the people talk about philosophy, politics and all kinds of things, not just which restaurant makes the best barbecue or who’s pregnant. Sometimes, Jodie, I swear, I don’t ever want to come home.”
With her college experiences, Merrilee’s expectations had shifted. A love like her parents’ would be nice, but only if her husband took her out of Pleasant Valley and gave her free rein to follow her career dreams and to travel the world. The prospect of settling down in the sleepy little town, which had once seemed idyllic, had seemed more like a death sentence.
Merrilee had been determined that the summer after her junior year would be the last she’d ever spend in Pleasant Valley.
Little had she guessed that fate was about to throw another curve in the form of her father’s guest for dinner that night.
“So who is this new partner?” Merrilee had asked.
“It’s a surprise,” her mother had said with a glimmer in her blue eyes, exactly like Merrilee’s.
And Merrilee had been surprised, all right. Not so much by the fact that her father’s partner was Grant Nathan as by Grant’s effect on her. When he’d entered the Stratton living room that night, Merrilee’s teenage crush had enveloped her in an overwhelming rush that metamorphosed into something much stronger and more breathtaking.
Merrilee had fallen in love.
And from the corresponding gleam in Grant’s eyes, she’d guessed correctly that he’d experienced the same emotion.
That was then, this is now, she reminded herself as they drove further upstate through the foothills of South Carolina toward the mountains. She shoved the memories and the emotions they evoked into that deep compartment of her heart where she’d kept them locked away these past several years. She’d severed her connection to Grant six years ago. For good. No need to revisit dead dreams.
But Grant’s presence, the steady, even sound of his breathing, his striking profile and distinctive male scent, and the easy manner with which his strong, capable fingers gripped the steering wheel, made slamming the door on those feelings again harder than when he’d been six hundred miles away.
To distract her attention from the enticing man at her side, MJ gazed out the window. Her sojourn in New York City had made her forget the beauty of South Carolina in early spring. In almost every yard, Bradford pear trees in full bloom reminded her of billowing bridal dresses. Arching branches of forsythia in vibrant yellow and stalks of brilliant purple irises provided splashes of color against the bright green of new grass, all framed against a cloudless sky of startling blue.
The highway soon left the towns and fields of the foothills and ascended into mountain forests, where an occasional clearing revealed ridge after ridge of the Smoky Mountains to the northwest, the deep emerald of their gentle folds and high peaks in stark contrast against the clear sky. MJ’s fingers itched for her camera, packed in its bag behind her seat.
With the familiar farms, small towns and forests unchanged and Grant once again beside her, MJ traveled through the countryside as if the intervening six years had never happened.
But they had.
She had left Pleasant Valley for good, with the exception of a rare holiday visit, and she had permanently cut all ties with Grant. If not for her parents and Nana, MJ would never have returned to the small town where she’d grown up. Unlike the smorgasbord of cultural and recreational delights of New York and its myriad opportunities for an aspiring artist, Pleasant Valley had nothing to offer except dead ends.
But in spite of MJ’s resolve to put the past behind her, coming home affected her. The sight of the white Colonial-style Welcome sign at the town limits brought an unexpected lump to her throat. After crossing the bridge over the river that paralleled Piedmont Avenue, the main thoroughfare, she found herself leaning forward, eager for her first glimpse of her grandmother’s impressive two-story house with its white clapboards and wide wraparound porch, only a block from downtown.
Nana must have been watching the street, because as soon as Grant pulled to the curb, the front door with its leaded-glass panes opened and Sally Mae McDonough stepped onto the porch. Dressed in a simple navy dress and matching low-heeled pumps, pearls at her throat and ears, and her white hair elegantly styled, Nana hadn’t changed since MJ’s last visit a year ago Christmas. Slender with perfect posture, her grandmother remained the quintessential Southern belle.
In other words, MJ thought with an inward grin, a steamroller disguised as a powder puff.
After seeing her Nana unchanged, MJ exhaled a sigh of relief. Nana, at least, as Grant had promised, seemed fine.
With a camel-colored cashmere cardigan draped around her shoulders, Nana waited until MJ climbed the stairs before speaking.
“Welcome home, child. It’s been too long.”
MJ hugged her grandmother, breathed in her signature scent of lilacs and reveled in the warmth of the familiar embrace. “It’s good to see you, Nana.”
“We missed you at Christmas.”
MJ fought rising guilt. “You know I had to work. I photographed seven weddings over the holidays.”
Her earnings had given her a precious few weeks off in January, time to add to her portfolio of the faces and places of the city in preparation for an exhibit of her own someday.
MJ lived for that someday.
“Wait!” Nana, who seldom raised her voice, had spoken loudly to Grant, who was still at the curb. “Is Gloria with you?”
“No, ma’am,” Grant replied. “She’s at home. And none too happy about it, either.”
Nana’s relief was evident. And MJ’s curiosity blossomed. Gloria? Jodie’s latest letters had said nothing about her brother’s girlfriend. An uncomfortable sensation settled over MJ and she shrugged it off. She was beyond jealousy. After all, she’d ended her relationship with Grant long ago when things hadn’t worked out as she’d hoped. She was actually surprised he hadn’t married and had children by now, but she didn’t stop to analyze why such a prospect annoyed her.
“You can set the bags in the front hall,” Nana said to Grant, who had followed MJ up the walk.
Nana held open the door and MJ and Grant stepped inside.
“Here she is, safe and sound, like I promised,” Grant announced, “so I’ll be on my way. Gloria’s not happy when I’m away too long.”
MJ couldn’t picture Grant with a clinging vine type. He’d evidently changed a great deal in the past six years. She gave herself an inward shake. She didn’t need the distraction of an old relationship now and was glad he was leaving. But her relief at his impending departure was short-lived.
“You’re not going now,” Nana said in her soft drawl with its underlying hint of steel that defied contradiction. “I know you had breakfast at 5:00 a.m., as usual, and it’s almost noon. I have lunch ready in the dining room. We can talk as we eat.”
“This is family business,” Grant said, apparently anxious to return to Gloria. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Fiddlesticks,” Nana said. “You’re Jim’s partner. That makes you family. Besides, I need your help.”
MJ watched with undisguised amusement as Grant relented. Not even his strong will could refuse the command in Nana’s tone. He followed Sally Mae into the dining room and pulled out a chair for her at the head of the table. MJ sat on her grandmother’s right. Grant took a chair at Nana’s left, looking as if he were attending his own execution.
Nana reached for the silver pitcher in front of her place. “Iced tea?”
MJ’s nerves had reached their breaking point. “This isn’t a social event, Nana. I want to know what’s wrong, and I want to know now.”
