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Suddenly she couldn’t focus on something as simple as pizza. Not with the dungeon lurking in her mind, the dank, cold reality of knowing Roy was out there somewhere. How often did she wake up screaming? Or hug her knees to her chest and cry?
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Order whatever you want.”
“Of course it matters. You must have a preference.”
Did she? She used to eat what Roy told her eat, dress in the clothes he told her to wear, be the wife he wanted her to be.
“Pineapple,” she told Hawk. Roy hated pineapple on pizza. “And Canadian bacon.” Her ex-husband detested that, too.
“You got it. Now I better hop in the shower. I’ll come by and get you when the food arrives.”
He picked up the puppy, and Jenny watched him walk back to his house. The dog peered over his shoulder, and she smiled, feeling a spark of freedom, a shimmer of independence.
But when she went inside to bathe and put on some clean clothes, she panicked. Roy would kill her if he knew she was having dinner with another man.
Not figuratively kill her. He would actually put his hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her.
But Roy wasn’t here, she reminded herself. And they were divorced. She had every right to share a pizza with her neighbor.
Her tall, gorgeous neighbor. The man who made her heart beat much too fast.
Hawk told himself he wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t a schoolboy with a foolish crush. He was a grown man who’d quit dating ages ago.
Hawk had occasional sex of course. Quiet, discreet affairs with women from his own race, women who accepted the lone wolf in him. But he didn’t date. And he especially didn’t court blue-eyed, color-treated blondes.
Like Tanya.
He’d been on the verge of falling in love with Tanya, of losing his heart and soul. But he was just a game to her. She’d only wanted him because he was dark and forbidden, the Indian stud, the back-street lover who was supposed to service her. And her roommate.
He picked up the pizza, balancing two cans of soda on top of the box. Jenny wasn’t anything like Tanya. Blue eyes and bleached hair didn’t make them the same.
Hawk headed for the door and felt something nudge his boot. He looked down and saw the pup, eager to go with him.
“I don’t think so, pal.”
The puppy whined, and Hawk felt like a heel. “All right. But behave yourself. We’ve got a lady to impress.”
The dog grinned, and Hawk narrowed his eyes. Was he being conned?
“I’m not sure I can trust you.”
He received an innocent bark in return, a sound that translated to I’ll be good. I promise.
“You better mean that.”
Another gentle bark. I do.
“You won’t take off running once you get a lick of freedom?”
“Woof,” the dog said again, his green eyes big and beguiling. No, sir. Not me.
Hawk opened the door, and the ball of fur flew past him. He cursed and nearly dropped the pizza.
Chasing the damned dog wasn’t possible, so he placed the food and drinks on a small table on his porch and strode across the lawn to Jenny’s house.
The puppy was already waiting on her doorstep, where he’d left muddy footprints. He wasn’t covered in the stuff, but he’d obviously taken a detour through the flower beds to reach his final destination.
“Don’t you dare grin at me,” Hawk warned.
The dog sniffed a fern, instead.
Jenny’s porch was cozier than Hawk’s. She’d decorated it with a gathering of potted plants. A swing that had been there for years creaked in the breeze.
He knocked and waited for her to answer.
She appeared in a white blouse and jeans, her gold-streaked hair fastened in a ponytail. The ribbon-enhanced style made her look sweet and girlish.
And it made Hawk feel as if he was fifteen again, too tall for his age, with sweaty palms and boyish desire that heated his loins.
“The pizza is here,” he said.
“Okay.” She knelt to pet the dog and laughed when she spotted his dirty feet. “He can’t keep those socks clean, can he?”
Hawk was still stuck on how pretty she looked, on how mouthwateringly good she smelled. He detected the faint aroma of raspberries, dipped in just a hint of custard. Or whipped cream. Or just plain feminine skin.
“You smell like dessert.”
She looked up at him, her voice suddenly shy. “It’s one of those body mists. I bought it at the market today.”
“I like it.”
She smiled, barely meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”
They walked side by side to his house, the puppy dancing around them.
He offered her one of the cedar chairs and handed her a soda and a slice of pizza, then realized he should have brought a couple of plates outside, not to mention a napkin or two.
Well, hell. He probably seemed uncivilized, like the barbarian most people thought he was. “I’ll be right back.” He left and returned with the plates and napkins.
Jenny accepted both gratefully. He sat in the chair opposite hers and went after two slices of pizza. He was starving, his stomach grumbling at the mere sight of food. He took a hearty bite and frowned at the dog. The little scoundrel was begging.
He tore a corner of the crust and handed it over. He’d already scrambled the puppy the last two eggs in the fridge, but now the pooch wanted pizza, too.
“I’m buying some dog food tomorrow,” he said. “And I’m going to train this guy to behave.” Hawk looked at Jenny. “I’m good with animals.”
She watched the dog hit him up for another bite. “Yes, I can see that you are.”
“They don’t usually take advantage of me. In fact, they never do.”
“Which one of us are you trying to convince?” she asked. “Me or him?”
“You.” Hawk smiled at her. “He already thinks he can con me.” He shifted his gaze to the dog. “But you’re in for a rude awakening, you mangy mutt. Enjoy your last few hours of freedom, because in the morning, you’re headed for boot camp.”
The dog yawned, and Jenny laughed. “Have you thought of a name for him yet?”
“No.” Hawk opened his soda and took a swig. It felt good to be near Jenny, to look into her eyes and see a glimmer of friendship brewing. “I’ll probably name him the Apache way.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I’ll give him a temporary name until he earns another one.”
“I think he’s already earned a name.”
She pointed to the dog’s feet, and Hawk grinned.
“Muddy,” they said in unison, laughing like a couple of kids who’d just shared a private joke.
But all too soon, their laughter faded. They sat across from each other, their gazes locked, the sun setting in the sky like a rebellious streak of fire.
Heat crackled between them, the kind of energy that stilled the air.
She twisted the napkin on her lap, and he felt like a dumbfounded fifteen-year-old all over again.
“I think Muddy is a perfect name,” he said, grasping for something to say.
“So do I.” She latched on to his words like a life-line, glancing at the dog for a diversion. “It fits him.”
“Yeah.” He told himself to keep the conversation going, to not let the heat come back. Not now, while they were still stumbling into a newfound friendship.
“Do you want to come to the South Texas Raptor House with me sometime?” he asked.
She made a puzzled expression. “What’s a raptor?”
“A bird of prey, like eagles, owls, falcons and hawks. I volunteer at a center that’s dedicated to rehabilitating injured raptors and releasing them back into the wild. Of course they have some permanent residents, too. Amputees and other birds that can’t survive in the wild.”
She studied him as though analyzing his association with the center. “Did you earn your name, Hawk?”
“Yeah, I did. But I was just a boy at the time. I came across a Cooper’s hawk that had been hit by a car. I wanted to scoop it up in my jacket and take it home, but somehow I knew better. I sensed that I wasn’t qualified to handle it.”
“So what did you do?”
“I ran home and told my mom, and she contacted the Raptor House. They cared for it until it was well enough to be released.” He smiled at the memory. “I felt like I’d done something really important, like I was part of that hawk’s survival, part of its spirit. My mom called me Hawk after that.”
“And you learned to work with raptors when you were old enough?”
“That’s about the size of it.” He took another swig of his soda. He was glad she hadn’t questioned him about his birth name. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been named Anthony Archibald Wainwright after his father. Of course Jenny probably didn’t know anything about Archy, other than what Mrs. Pritchett might have told her. Jenny didn’t run in the same social circle as the Wainwrights, of that much Hawk was certain.
“So, are you interested in a tour of the center?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, but I have a busy week coming up.”
“There’s no rush.” Sooner or later he would get to know Jenny Taylor, who she really was and why she seemed so secretive.
Three
The Lone Star Country Club spanned two thousand acres of prime Texas land. The main clubhouse, a four-story pink granite building, had French windows that overlooked the rolling lawn of the award-winning eighteen-hole golf course. Six tennis courts and three swimming pools provided the members with athletic entertainment. The Empire Room, the Men’s Grill and the Yellow Rose Café prepared meals to suit every occasion.
Jenny entered the Yellow Rose Café, where a hostess greeted her.
“May I sit in Daisy’s section?” she asked.
“Certainly.” The hostess smiled and led her to a table that offered an enchanting view of the patio.
Jenny liked the sunny decor. Yellow-gingham tablecloths added a touch of spring, as did the planter ablaze with marigolds, petunias and snapdragons. The planter separated the café from a small, bustling bar, making a pretty yet practical statement. Everything about the country club fascinated her, and she was grateful for the opportunity to continue her association with it. Her work was the one source of pride in her life, the foundation for her sanity.
She glanced at the menu and decided on some light fare. She’d just completed a meeting with the painting contractor, but she had other meetings after lunch. This wasn’t a leisurely day.
“Hello, Jenny.”
Daisy arrived at the table, pen and pad in hand. The waitress was a stunning bleached blonde, with a dark complexion and a curvaceous athletic build. But in spite of her beauty, Jenny sensed something sad about her. There was pain in her eyes, deep and unsettling, a look Jenny often recognized in the mirror.
Was Daisy Parker running away from her past, too? Hiding the way Jenny was? Keeping secrets that haunted her at night?
Daisy always had a ready smile, but that didn’t mean a thing. She still seemed nervous somehow, preoccupied and fearful.
“What can I get you today?” Daisy asked.
“The mixed greens and a glass of raspberry iced tea.”
“What kind of dressing?”
“The house will be fine.”
Why had Daisy lightened her hair? she wondered. For the same reason she herself did? Or was Daisy just a brunette who wondered if blondes really did have more fun?
Maybe it was silly to worry about Daisy, but Jenny couldn’t help it. Deep down, she wanted to befriend the woman, get close to her, ask if she needed help. But how could Jenny aid someone else? Her own emotions were still a mess. She barely had the strength to confront her own fears, let alone tackle Daisy’s problems.
The waitress sent Jenny one of those carefully controlled smiles and darted off with her order.
A short time later Jenny’s meal arrived. As she ate, the café bustled around her, members of the country club coming and going.
Just as she finished her salad, she spotted Archy Wainwright across the room heading her way. She reached for her tea and acknowledged his gaze.
Archy was a business associate, someone she respected and admired. But discovering that he was Hawk’s father put an odd spin on seeing him.
“Well, hello, Jenny,” the older man said when he reached her table. “May I?”
“Yes.” She gestured for him to join her and scanned his features with newfound interest, looking for a likeness to Hawk. She couldn’t find an overwhelming resemblance, but she had to admit that Hawk had Archy’s powerful stature and deep, gruff voice.
