her way up his leg. “I never know what to expect from that boy. Even though his reasoning skills are amazing, he still believes in Santa Claus.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
Krista felt a smile steal through her, thinking it was ironic that she’d told Will that Tommy was six going on thirty, when Will was thirty going on six.
She heard Will clear his throat and call her name. For a moment she wondered why his voice had gone so low, so husky, so deep.
“Uh, Krista?” he said, finally breaking into her reverie. “You’re getting awfully close to a particularly sensitive part of my anatomy.”
She came back from her musings with a start. He was right. Her hands had wandered awfully close to...a place that was definitely off limits. “Sorry about that,” she whispered.
“Believe me, I don’t mind,” he answered. “It’s just that if you keep it up, I’m going to pull you on top of me and finish what you started.”
“Is that what you did with Miss July?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for letting her curiosity show.
He took his time tucking his hands underneath his head. His eyes had darkened, taking on an intense expression, as he said, “Now you’ve stumbled onto a topic that’s off limits.”
She turned from her task and laughed unexpectedly, a spontaneous, deep, pleasant laugh that was the essence of the woman herself, a laugh that made a man think of other activities even more spontaneous, even more pleasant. Will was aware that other people in the room had turned when they’d heard Krista’s laughter. More than anything, he was aware of the way the throaty sound had sneaked inside his body, and the way the touch of her hands had sneaked up his thigh. Both felt good.
Lowering his leg to the table, she said, “I know you still have some time left for therapy today, but I think we’ve just about covered everything for the first session. Come on. I’ll push you back to the room where we started. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up where we left off.”
Without saying a word, he sat up and maneuvered himself back into the wheelchair. She’d said that tomorrow they’d pick up where they left off. Will was pretty sure she hadn’t meant where they’d left off eight years ago.
For the millionth time these past three months he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t gotten behind the wheel of that rental car last July. What if he’d seen the out-of-control truck sooner? What if he never regained all his movement? What if this was as good as he’d ever be?
No. Will wouldn’t concentrate on what if. He’d survived the car accident. He’d gotten his feeling back, and bit by bit he’d regain his strength. He knew he should count his blessings in another area, too. His sex drive was intact. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aware of his raging hormones. Maybe it was because of Krista.
There was one what if he didn’t mind thinking about. Krista undoubtedly had good reasons for swearing off all men. What if he was the one man who could change her mind?
* * *
Every few seconds, Will punched another channel on the TV’s remote control. Situation comedies didn’t appeal to him tonight. Neither did rescue or cop shows. An action movie caught his attention briefly, but after only minutes he flipped to the next station. In a moment of undiluted annoyance, he punched the Off button and jumped to his feet. At least that’s what his brain told his body to do. Swearing under his breath, he reached for his crutches and pulled himself up to a standing position.
A primitive panic wrapped its fingers around his throat and threatened to cut off his breathing. Damn. He hated this god-awful inability to move on his own. Tiny rooms didn’t faze him, and small spaces had always made him feel cozy. But this was different. This paralysis closed in on him like moving walls in horror movies.
Will grasped his crutches and maneuvered around the room, cursing the panic out loud until his breathing returned to normal and his thoughts calmed. He stopped at the sliding door in his first-floor apartment. Peering through the rain-speckled glass, he noticed lights coming on across the street. Standing there all alone in his apartment, which contained some of the most modern conveniences money could buy, he wondered if he should have taken his mother up on her offer to come and stay with him until he was back on his feet.
In his mind, he pictured the Nebraska sun glinting off the whitewashed buildings back home. It was harvest time, and his father and brother would probably be walking toward the house right about now, the day’s dust thick on their skin. Inside, his mother would have a huge meal prepared. Voices would rise and fall during supper as Cort and their father argued about the price of wheat and just about everything else under the sun. In comparison, Will’s furnished apartment here in Allentown seemed as quiet as a crypt, and just as confining.
His family had wanted him to come home for the rest of his rehabilitation. Will knew they’d have done everything in their power to help him. That’s why he hadn’t gone. If he had let them do everything for him, he knew he’d never make it all the way back. That’s why he’d decided to come to Krista. She’d force him to reach his full potential. She always had.
Krista.
He glanced behind him at the gray carpet and the gray walls and the gray curtains and the gray sofa. Even the air looked gray. He remembered the way Krista’s pink lips had lifted when she smiled, the way her brown eyes had glinted when she laughed and the way her cheeks had colored when he’d asked about her sex life. Nothing about Krista was gray. Not her appearance, certainly not her personality.
Will thought about the past two days, remembering everything about her, the way she moved, what she said, even the way she said it. The intricate details in his memories surprised him. He was usually hard-pressed to put a name with a face. Yet in eight years, he hadn’t forgotten anything about her.
Not that she was exactly the same as he remembered. There was a subtle difference in her smiles, and he was sure he’d never heard so much pride and love in her voice as he’d heard today when she’d talked about her son. She said they lived in Coopersburg, a small town twelve miles away. For the heck of it, Will took out the telephone directory and turned to the area maps.
He located Coopersburg on Highway 309, and wondered what sort of town it was. He wondered what her house looked like. Out of the blue, he wondered what was stopping him from finding out.
Twenty minutes later he eased the midsize car around the last corner, steering with his left hand, accelerating and braking with his right. This specially made car served its purpose, but he couldn’t wait to drive his midnight blue sports car with four on the floor and raised-letter tires.
He slowed down when he spotted the house with the number he was looking for. So this is where Krista lives. The house sat on the corner, the streetlight reflecting off forest green siding and a black roof and shutters. A red bicycle leaned against the garage and wet leaves covered the compact yard. A small scarecrow hung from a Happy Halloween sign on the front door, and a ceramic black cat sat on the bottom step.
For a moment, he simply stared at the small house. He hadn’t called first, and he hadn’t been invited. That had never stopped him before. With anticipation strumming through him, he pulled the keys from the ignition, reached for his crutches and opened the door.
Leaves squished beneath his feet as he made his way to the front door, the panic that had threatened to choke him half an hour ago nearly gone. Now another sensation
