will feel a much stronger bond with the park if they help in some way to develop it, Reed,” she had told him.
He couldn’t disagree. His mother worked tirelessly for several fine charities, and he gladly turned over the financial end of the park’s development to her. Rumor Park, as he thought of it—though he would really like someone to come up with a more meaningful name—was going to belong to the people of Rumor. Once completed, it would be ceremoniously presented to the town. In the meantime, Carolyn was seeking the approval and assistance of state and national environmental groups and, to arouse further local interest and enthusiasm for the project, was planning a Christmas ball. It would be a swank affair—the likes of which had never before been seen in Rumor—and would be held in enormous, heated tents set up on a good-size area of MonMart’s parking lot. The decorations were going to be spectacular, and tickets were already sold out.
Reed grinned when he pulled into MonMart’s busy parking lot and envisioned the glamorous event, which was scheduled for the second week of December. The bank account that had been opened for park funds contained a large sum of money, and by spring, Rumor Park would be finished. Just thinking about it delivered a thrill to his system. He loved being involved in community affairs, and he sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t run for public office.
But then he would be tied to one job, and ever since high school he’d been happiest when juggling a dozen different duties and responsibilities.
After parking in the employees’ lot to the right of the store, he went in, whistling between his teeth. He felt so good it had to be a crime, he thought, grinning at the first person he saw. The young woman smiled back and said, “Good morning, Mr. Kingsley.”
“’Morning, Lois.” He went upstairs to the administration offices and stopped in at the video room, where a security officer kept an eye on a dozen monitors, the output of the surveillance cameras placed around the store. It was too bad that retailers had to guard against theft, but shoplifting was a national scandal, and even in a nice little town like Rumor some people couldn’t resist the temptation of sneaking goods into a pocket or handbag.
“How’s it going this morning?” Reed jauntily asked Homer, the computer whiz manning the equipment today.
“Same as always,” Homer replied with a big grin. “Busy downstairs. Looks like folks are getting an early start on Christmas shopping this year.”
Reed glanced at the monitors and nodded. “It does, doesn’t it? Goods have been pouring in and going out so fast it’s a race to keep the shelves stocked.”
“Well, you can’t knock success,” Homer drawled.
“Nope, sure can’t.” Reed made a move to leave, but then stopped short. He narrowed his eyes on a screen and bent closer to it. Was that woman in aisle twelve Valerie Fairchild? It was! His pulse quickened. Went a little bit wild, actually. Just the sight of her shopping made his blood run faster. He remembered his vow to leave her be, to never put himself in the position of being turned down by her again, but clinging to that oath while watching her with his own eyes wasn’t easy.
“What’s so interesting?” Homer asked, and took a look at the monitor Reed couldn’t seem to tug his eyes away from. “Did you spot something?”
“Just someone I know.” Reed pulled himself together. “See you later, Homer.” He hurried out and went to his office. But instead of sitting at his desk and doing something productive, he paced the floor and thought about Val. He’d felt so damn good not ten minutes ago. Now he ached all over, and he resented losing his fabulous mood over something so mundane as Valerie Fairchild doing her weekly grocery shopping.
By damn, he had every right to walk any aisle in the place! If he just happened to run into her—it had happened before—what could she do but be nice?
Groaning over Valerie’s polished ability to be nice and ice-cold at the same time, Reed told himself to forget it. To forget her! Why couldn’t he? He’d known women who were more beautiful, possibly women with more sex appeal, but she was the one he couldn’t get out of his mind.
Leaving his office to get himself a cup of coffee at the snack bar down the hall, he passed the surveillance room and couldn’t resist checking the monitors again to see where Val was now. Homer looked at him curiously, but Reed ignored him and searched each monitor screen until he found her. She was in the canned goods aisle, and she was… Bending over, he peered more closely at the image. What was she doing? It looked as if she was leaning against the shelves, but why would…
It hit Reed like a ton of bricks. Running from the room, he took the stairs two at a time, then rushed through the store like a madman. Everyone in town knew that Dr. Fairchild was recovering from breast cancer, and obviously she wasn’t fully recovered yet or she wouldn’t be propped against a damn shelf!
Reed hit the aisle running, saw Val still leaning there with her eyes shut, and hurried toward her. Bending low enough to anchor his left arm behind her knees, he scooped her in the air.
Val was so startled she just hung on while Reed Kingsley hurriedly strode to the front of the store, leaving her cart of groceries behind. Everyone they passed stopped dead in their tracks to stare, and her fury sprouted and grew. She was so furious by the time they went through the large automatic doors and outside that she could have cheerfully murdered the odious jerk intent on saving her from…from what? My God, she thought, with tears burning her eyes, this incident would be the talk of the town in five minutes!
“Put me down,” she said in a lethally low and hoarse voice, afraid that if she spoke with greater volume she would screech loud enough to wake the dead in the Rumor cemetery. She could feel her shoulder bag bumping against his leg as he walked, and wished it were sharp and pointed and beating a hole in his thigh. Maybe it was a cruel thought, but she had never been so embarrassed in her life.
“In a second,” Reed said. “You need some fresh air.” He kept going, heading for Val’s bright blue SUV. He recognized most of the vehicles around town, so it was no great feat to pick out Val’s in the nearly full parking lot.
People who were transferring purchases from carts to their vehicles stopped to study the sight of Reed Kingsley carrying Valerie Fairchild through the organized maze of parked cars and trucks.
While they gawked, Val seriously—hysterically—considered slapping Reed Kingsley silly, which was exactly what he deserved. But that would only give friends, neighbors and complete strangers something else to stare at. She wasn’t helpless; she knew she could wriggle and squirm and force him to put her down. But that would create another scene, and some of these shoppers were pet owners who brought their cats and dogs to the Animal Hospital. They knew her as the animal doc. Years from now they would still think of her in this debasing situation whenever they brought Snookums or Buffy or Killer in for a shot or some other procedure. She would never live this down—not ever!
Her only usable weapon was her voice and she went for it. “I wish I could think of some way to hate you more than I do at this moment,” she said in the same deadly tone she’d used before.
Reed was so shocked he nearly dropped her. He stopped walking and let her feet slide to the pavement. “I…I sure as hell didn’t do this to make you hate me,” he mumbled.
She wasn’t quite steady on her feet and reached out to the closest car, grabbing it for support. She had enough strength to glare into this wannabe rescuer’s eyes, though, with a look in her own that could have curdled milk. “What in hell did you think was going on in there?” she spat.
“You looked
