Jackie Merritt - Sweet Talk

“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.”