Marissa parked the car, slid out and grabbed the crutches, then hurried around to the passenger side to help him out.
“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t,” he said as he situated the crutch pads beneath his arms. He started toward the house, then paused, looking up at the set of steep stairs that led to the door.
“I’d better help you,” Marissa said. She checked Nathaniel, who was safely buckled in, then moved to Jack’s side and took one of his crutches. “You can lean on me, and that will make it easier.”
He hesitated a moment, obviously reluctant to accept her offer.
“Or you can do it yourself and risk the possibility of falling, in which case you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself,” she said with a touch of impatience.
“And if I fall with you helping me, then I get to blame you?”
“Exactly,” she replied dryly. He nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She placed a hand on his back to steady him. His skin was pleasantly warm, and as he leaned into her she smelled the faint scent of a spicy cologne.
It had been a very long time since she’d been this close to a man who was so overwhelmingly masculine. Despite her concern about him, pleasure winged through her at the tactile contact between her hand and his broad, muscled back.
“Aren’t you afraid Baby-Face Nelson will steal the car while you’re helping me?” he asked gruffly as they carefully maneuvered the first two steps.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “Nathaniel is just barely two, and he’s certainly not a hardened criminal.” They went up two more stairs.
“Ah, the mother is always the last to admit there’s a problem.”
Marissa halted their forward progress. “Mr. Coffey, you don’t strike me as a stupid man. But it’s incredibly stupid to malign a woman’s child when said woman is helping you up a very steep set of stairs.”
He turned and looked at her in surprise. “Touché.” The hint of a grudging smile glittered in his eyes. Marissa’s breath caught in her chest.
She had a feeling that beneath the scratchy whiskers and without the lines of pain that tightened his features, Jack Coffey had the kind of face that could steal more than a heart.
With the curve of his lips, he could make a woman think of silky sheets and hot nights and arms and legs tangled in desire. She frowned, wondering if perhaps she’d suffered a touch of sunstroke. Surely that was the only explanation for her crazy, out-of-character thoughts.
Once again they continued the arduous climb up the remainder of the stairs. When they reached the top, Marissa handed him back his crutch and released her hold on him. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” she asked worriedly.
Once again his face was unnaturally pale and a light sheen of perspiration shone on his forehead. “I told you, I’ll be fine.” He turned and entered the house and shut the door in her face.
Marissa fought the impulse to bang on the door and tell him he was a rude jerk. Instead she reminded herself that pain often made people extremely ill-tempered.
As a nurse’s aide, she’d seen pain transform rational, intelligent, nice people into cursing, screaming creatures who hardly resembled human beings.
She turned, went down the stairs and got back into the car, smiling at her son in the rearview mirror. “Well, sweetie, I offered to help him, but he declined. I guess that’s the end of our responsibility.”
Nathaniel laughed, the childish giggle that always wound itself around Marissa’s heart. As she started the car and drove away from Jack Coffey’s place, she wondered if Bill ever thought of her, ever wondered about his son. She wondered if he realized how much he’d given up when he’d chosen to walk away from them both.
As she drove to the motel that she and Nathaniel were calling home for the duration of their vacation, she filed thoughts of Bill away.
She hadn’t realized at the time they were dating just how immature and selfish he was. She hadn’t realized that until she’d gotten pregnant and he’d run for the hills. She didn’t need a scared boy in her life, and Nathaniel certainly didn’t need a scared boy for a father.
Better to have no father figure in Nathaniel’s life than a bad one. She’d grown up with a father who’d been immature and unwilling to accept responsibility.
He’d drifted in and out of her life on his whims, bearing expensive gifts she didn’t need, taking her to restaurants she didn’t care about, giving her tangible things when all she wanted and needed was his love.
He’d been filed away with Bill in her “not worth thinking about” file. And now she had a third man to add. Jack Coffey.
But Jack simply refused to stay filed away. As she and Nathaniel ate dinner in a restaurant near her motel room, she wondered what Jack was eating for supper. With his splinted and bandaged hand, even making a sandwich could prove difficult.
Not my problem, she reminded herself. She’d offered to help and he’d declined. From her brief encounter with him, she had a feeling Jack Coffey was a man who would have difficulty asking for help under any circumstances.
Much later, tucked into bed with Nathaniel sleeping next to her in the crib the motel had provided, the scent of his baby sweetness surrounding her, she once again worried about Jack.
She couldn’t help feeling responsible for him and his injuries. What if he tried to maneuver down those steep stairs on his own? As isolated as his house was, he could fall and hurt himself badly and it might be days before anyone would find him.
When she finally fell asleep, her dreams were nightmares of Jack Coffey chasing her down the beach, only in her dreams it was her leg that was encased in heavy plaster. Nathaniel sat on the sand, clapping his hands and laughing with glee each time Jack tried to grab her.
She awoke with a start just after dawn, grateful to leave the nightmares behind. But the night of restless dreams had made her realize she couldn’t just go on her merry vacation knowing a man was suffering because of her and her son’s actions. Her conscience simply wouldn’t allow it.
By eight, she and Nathaniel were dressed and on their way back to Jack’s house. In a sack in the backseat she had all the makings of a good, old-fashioned, home-cooked breakfast. She didn’t know a man alive who would say no to biscuits and gravy, thick slabs of ham and fresh eggs.
When she pulled up outside Jack’s house, she was surprised to see an old, beat-up station wagon. She sat for a moment, wondering if she should go up or not. After all, the station wagon indicated he wasn’t alone.
As she was trying to make up her mind what to do, the front door flew open and an older, heavyset, gray-haired woman exited. She went halfway down the stairs, then turned back as Jack appeared in the doorway.
“Don’t come back, Maria. You’re fired!” Jack bellowed, causing several seagulls who’d been walking the beach to squawk and take flight.
“Okay.” Maria nodded and smiled. “I’m fired.” She continued down the stairs as Jack slammed the door. As Maria hurried to the station
