Susan Mallery: Someone Like You

“There’ll be another sunset tomorrow,” she reminded herself as she stood and tensed in anticipation of a blinding headache or double vision. Neither occurred. Actually, she felt pretty good.

“That’s a plus.”

She made her way to the guest room and smiled when she saw the folded-back covers and fluffed pillows. Her aunt had even left a tray with water, a glass and a package of Alka-Seltzer.

“An amazing woman.”

Jill ignored the bed and walked to her suitcase. After collecting toiletries, she hit the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Twenty minutes, one shampoo and an application of sweet-pea-scented body lotion later, she felt practically normal. She debated between PJs and sweats before settling on the latter. With her hair still in a towel and a wide-tooth comb in her hand, she walked downstairs and out onto the back porch.

The wooden structure was nearly as wide as the front porch and just as furnished. There was an old swing, a rattan table and chair set along with a bench, a few bug-zapper lamps and a trellis covered with bougainvillea.

Jill ignored it all and sat on the rear steps leading down to the grass. The night was cool and pleasant. A clear sky twinkled with a thousand stars she couldn’t see when she was in the city. She supposed there were those who thought small-town life was made perfect by things like stars and unlocked doors. They were, of course, hideously wrong.

She pulled off the towel and reached for the comb. Just then the back door of the house on the left opened and someone stepped out.

Jill froze, her arm raised, the comb barely touching her hair. Even in the dim light of the porch she recognized the tall, broad-shouldered man. Mac.

She figured the odds of him visiting a neighbor at this hour were slim, which meant he probably lived next door to her aunt. Wasn’t that just how her life was going? No doubt he’d moved in with his wife and…

Hazy memories clicked into place. Something about a child. A daughter maybe? But no wife. Or at least not the kid’s mother. Or had that been wishful thinking on her part? Horror swept through her as she thought she remembered passing out in his presence.

She shifted to stand and creep back inside, but a board creaked, Mac turned, then started toward her. Jill glanced down at the T-shirt she’d pulled on over sweatpants. Oh, yeah, a fabulous “aren’t I sexy” look. She supposed her lack of bra could be considered provocative, if she had actual breasts larger than fried eggs.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he approached.

His voice rumbled into the quiet of the night. The sound seemed to rub against her skin like velvet on silk. Her insides clenched and her mind emptied of all rational thought.

“Ah, better,” she managed. “I needed that.”

“The nap, the brandy or passing out?”

“Maybe all three.”

He paused in front of her and leaned against the railing. One corner of his mouth curved up.

“Do you remember anything that happened this afternoon?”

She had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the drive from San Francisco. The question made her uneasy.

“Why? Did I do anything memorable before, um, passing out?” Had she thrown up, or worse? Was there worse than throwing up?

“Nope. You got very quiet, spilled your milk and passed out.”

Inwardly she winced. “Sounds charming.” She recalled waking up. “So how did I get to the sofa?”

Mac’s half smile widened into a full grin. “You’re welcome.”

He’d carried her? She’d actually been in Mac’s arms and she hadn’t been conscious for the moment? Could her life get any more unfair?

“Ah, thanks. That was really nice of you.”

What she wanted to know was had he enjoyed the experience? Had he thought of it as anything more than a chore? Had she even once crossed his mind in the past ten years?

He moved to the foot of the stairs and sat down. His thigh was amazingly close to her bare toes. If she moved her foot a scant inch, they would be touching. Jill jerked the comb through her still-wet hair and swallowed a sigh of frustration. One would think she would be more grown-up and mature by now, but one would be wrong.

“So you’re back in town,” she said when no wittier bit of conversation occurred to her.

He pointed to the house on the left. The one she’d seen him walk out of. “Right next door.”

“With your daughter?” she asked, hoping her wisps of memory were accurate.

The humor fled his face, leaving behind only tightness and something that might have been pain.

“Emily.”

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy Los Lobos. It’s a great place for kids. Especially in the summer.” Jill hadn’t started to chafe at the restrictions of small-town life until she’d entered college.

“I hope so. I haven’t seen her in a while. After the divorce…” He shrugged, which didn’t explain much.

“Was her mother difficult about things?” she asked.

“No. Carly was great. It was my fault. I wasn’t around for a while. That hurt Emily. She’s just a kid, I should have realized. I want joint custody, but I need to earn the privilege. That’s what this summer is about.”

His words left her with more questions than answers, but she decided not to push.

“I hope things work out,” she said.

“Me, too. Em means the world to me.” The smile returned. “Your aunt agreed to help me with day care. Should I be rethinking that?”

“Because of what I said about her not liking children?”

He nodded.

Jill shook her head. “She didn’t like teaching very much, but she was always great when I was growing up.” There was the whole psychic gift thing, but maybe it was better to let Mac find out about that on his own.

“Good to know,” he said.

“Your daughter arrived earlier, right? Did everything go okay?”

He glanced toward the house. “It was fine. Carly drove her up from L.A. and stayed through bedtime. All I had to do was hang around in the background. The real test will be in the morning.”

“You love her,” Jill told him. “That counts for a lot.”

“I hope so.”

She was about to expand on the point when she remembered she had absolutely zero experience in the kid department. Not that she hadn’t wanted them. But the lying weasel rat bastard had thought they should wait and, for reasons not clear to her, they had. Of course now she was glad—children would have complicated the divorce.

“So what are you doing back in town?” Mac asked. “Vacation? Last I heard you were practicing corporate law in San Francisco.”

Jill felt her eyes widen. He knew about her life? Had he been asking? Had he thought about her? Was there—

She quickly slammed a mental door on those thoughts. No doubt Mac had simply picked up small-town gossip. Nothing worth getting excited about.

“I was, until recently,” she said. “I worked for a corporate law firm in San Francisco. I was about to make junior partner.” She resumed combing her damp hair.

“Past tense?”

“Yup. My soon-to-be ex-husband managed to get me fired. He also got my promotion, my window office and our condo.” She tugged through a knotted strand. “Not that he’ll get to keep the condo. It’s community property. He cheated on me, too. I saw him, and let me tell you, there’s a visual I want erased from my brain.”

“That’s a lot for one day. How’d he get you fired?”

“I’m still working on that one. I brought a lot of business into the firm. More than any other associate. But when they fired me, I wasn’t allowed to speak to any of the senior partners to find out what was going on. I sent a couple of e-mails and letters, so we’ll see. In the meantime, I’m temporarily back in Los Lobos to take over the law practice of Dixon and Son.”