Suzanne Cox - A Different Kind of Man

EMALEA ROLLED OFF THE COUCH, her knee slamming onto the hardwood floor. Disoriented, her gaze flew from the window to the door, then finally to her watch. Good grief, it was eleven o’clock. She’d only planned to lie on the sofa for a minute and watch television. On the screen, Jay Leno was bantering with Jim Carrey. The noise that had awakened her rattled through the house. She clenched her teeth, her knee smarting as she scrambled to her feet. Whoever was banging on her door at this time of night had better have a good excuse. She lifted one slat of the blinds covering the French doors that led to her front porch.

“What the hell is he doing here?” she whispered. With a quick twist, she threw open the door, not bothering to hide her irritation. “I don’t know how people conduct themselves in Chicago, but around here we don’t go visiting in the middle of the night.”

He took a half step back. “We just finished at the river.”

“And what did you find?”

“A bag full of guns.”

Emalea knew the shock had to have registered on her face.

“Not a normal occurrence in Cypress Landing, I guess.”

“You’d guess right. Did Matt think the militia might be involved?”

“He did, but I’ll have to do some research on that subject. I’m not very familiar with militia activity.”

She leaned against the door frame, playing the possible scenarios in her mind. She could think of no plausible reason for guns to be in the river. After a few moments, she realized they were standing in her doorway staring at each other and saying nothing.

Jackson cleared his throat. “I’ll be going then. I only wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“And why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You seemed upset after you found the body. I…I don’t know. I guess you’re fine.”

“Of course I’m fine. If I’d been a guy who’d found that body, would you have come by to check on me?”

His lips drew together in a thin line, and she noticed a slight quivering just above his right eyebrow. “I might have, if he’d been as upset as you were. I really can’t say for sure. After all, you’re not a man. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

One boot squeaked as he made his way back to the steps. Emalea bit her lip when she felt it move, as though she might tell him to stop or that she was sorry or some other foolish thing. She started to close the door but stopped when he reached the bottom step and turned back.

“Emalea, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but if you ever want to know the facts, I’ll tell you myself. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. But I guess most people have. I’m not trying to hit on you or play games with you. I’m new here and it looks like we’ll be working together. We obviously have the same interests, motorcycles, scuba diving. I’d just like to see if we could be friendly, if not actually friends. That’s why I’m here.”

His chest rose and fell visibly several times as though the speech had taken an immense physical effort. She wondered what he thought she might have heard about him. He took two strides toward his truck before her mouth got the best of her.

“Saturday morning, eight o’clock, in front of the library, we get together and go for a motorcycle ride once every other month. I… You’re welcome to come if you want.”

His expression was hard, yet sad, and a cold chill ricocheted along her spine. Then one side of his mouth went up in a tentative smile. “I’d like that. If I can get done at work I’ll make plans to be there.”

She slammed the door shut before she could get herself in more trouble. An emotion that might have been elation or despair swirled inside her. No reasoning in the world could explain why she’d invited Jackson to their Saturday ride. Such a nasty habit, this attraction she had for men who were so wrong for her. Maybe if he went along with her friends, she would be safe from making further mistakes and she wouldn’t feel as if she were shunning a new person in town. Her aunt had raised her to be more hospitable than that. Inviting him had been the neighborly thing to do. She nodded to herself, trying to pretend she hadn’t twisted logic to suit herself.

She pressed the off button on the television and made her way, in the dark, to her bedroom. Without turning on the lights she pulled back the cover and slid into bed, only then realizing that she’d answered the door in her favorite pajamas. She groaned and hugged a pillow to her. No wonder he’d looked at her with such a wide-eyed expression when she’d flung open the door. The nearly threadbare cotton top and matching bottoms trimmed in lace had seen better days. She had to admit the tank top revealed much more than she would have liked but, under the circumstances, what did the guy expect, showing up at her house in the middle of the night? She pressed her eyelids together, wishing for the deep sleep from which she’d been awakened. Instead, a wide chest seemed to be pressing against her, as though she were still in the back of the patrol car. Exasperated, she rolled over again, fairly certain that any dreams she had tonight involving Cypress Landing’s new investigator would be anything but neighborly.

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