been through a rough time, huh?” he said, breaking the silence.
The note of sympathy in his voice made her eyes sting with more tears. “I can’t talk about it,” she said. She didn’t even want to think about the last year and she certainly didn’t want to discuss it with him. Of course, not talking about it hadn’t worked all that well.
“Maybe you should. It usually helps with this sort of thing. Brings the demons out of the closet, so to speak.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said disdainfully.
“You think not? The Gulf War wasn’t much of a picnic, Dinah. There were …” He hesitated, seeming to search for a word. “After-effects,” he said eventually. “There were after-effects for a lot of us.”
She blinked at that. “You were there? You had post-traumatic stress syndrome?”
He nodded, his face empty of expression. “Still do, I suppose.”
“And?”
“I survived.”
She gave him a wry look. “Apparently you don’t think what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. You could be a little more forthcoming than that.”
“It’s been more than ten years, Dinah. I’ve done my talking. I’ve put most of it behind me, at least as well as anyone ever can.”
“How?” she asked, unable to keep the plaintive note out of her voice. She hated sounding vulnerable, especially in front of Cord, but she needed to know that the dreams, the panic attacks would eventually end.
“Time, mostly.”
Dinah sighed. “I’m not sure there’s enough of that left in my lifetime.”
He gave her a faint grin. “You’re not that far over the hill, Dinah. You’ve probably got at least one or two good years left.”
“Sometimes I feel ancient,” she responded wearily.
A whisper of a breeze stirred over them and Dinah shivered, then realized that they were both sitting under a ceiling fan soaking wet. Though she hated leaving the unexpected comfort of his embrace, she pushed away and stood.
“I should go.”
“Not when it’s pouring like it is out there. The driveway will be a sea of mud. You’ll just get stuck and then I’ll have to tow you out of a ditch.”
As much as she wanted to go now that the panic had faded, she knew he was right. “Why don’t you pave the stupid driveway?” she grumbled.
He chuckled. “Because keeping it like it is generally keeps away unwanted visitors.” He gave her an insolent once-over that heated her blood. “Lately it’s not working half as well as it’s meant to. Some people apparently can’t take a hint.”
He stood up slowly and tucked a finger under her chin. “Stay put, okay? I’m going to get you one of my shirts and a towel, then you can take a warm shower and dry off while I throw your clothes in the washer.”
His sudden kindness was confusing her. She wasn’t sure how to react to it. It was easier to deal with Cord when he was being exasperating. “Why are you being so damn nice to me?”
“Maybe I don’t want you suing me for letting you catch pneumonia on my property.”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “I don’t think you can file lawsuits for something like that.”
“You have no idea what people will sue over these days. The world’s a crazy place. Now, are you going to stay put like I asked, or are you going to be stubborn and try to set out in this weather?”
“I’m stubborn, not stupid. I’ll stay, at least till the storm’s over.”
Something told Dinah there was a distinct possibility she was going to live to regret it.
Cord listened to the shower running in his bathroom and thanked his lucky stars that he’d gotten Dinah out of that sexy, soaking wet sundress and sent her off to change before she’d noticed that he was completely and totally aroused by the sight and feel of her. She’d fit a little too snugly in his arms, smelled a little too provocative. Her dress, respectable enough when dry, had been way too revealing when wet.
Sweet heaven, what was he thinking? Him and Dinah Davis? No chance in hell. She might be grateful to him right this second, but she’d come to her senses before the night was out and remember that she hated him, that she had good reason to. Add in that he was just too low class for her and any relationship between the two of them was doomed.
What grated was that he was certain now that she’d never dismissed Bobby as low class. Hell, she was all set to marry his brother, or thought she was. Cord figured it would be a cold day in hell before that happened.
By the time he heard the shower cut off, Cord had poured a couple of beers into glasses, mostly to prove he could be civilized when it suited him. He’d put a couple of chicken breasts topped with mushroom gravy into the oven to bake. He was in the process of making a salad when Dinah came into the kitchen.
She didn’t make a sound when she entered, but he knew she was there just the same.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
“Dinner. I figure even people who watch their waistlines for the camera have to eat something. Besides, the adrenaline rush from one of those attacks always left me starved.”
“What’s in the oven?”
“Chicken.”
“It smells … good,” she said hesitantly, with yet another note of surprise in her voice.
Cord grinned, though he was glad she couldn’t see his face. He doubted she would appreciate knowing how much she amused him with her faltering attempts to be polite. “You keep dishing out those lavish compliments, sugar, you’re going to turn my head.”
“I was trying to be polite,” she said crossly.
“I get that, but there’s no need to try so hard. Us low-lifes don’t expect much. A simple please and thank-you now and then will do.”
He turned to set the salad on the table and got his first good look at her in one of his old light-blue dress shirts. He damn near swallowed his tongue. He should have remembered how those long, bare legs of hers affected him. If he had, he would have come up with something else for her to put on … maybe baggy sweatpants, even if it was still eighty-eight degrees, despite the storm passing overhead.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” he suggested when he could speak without stammering. He needed to get those legs of hers out of sight before he started to imagine them wrapped around his waist while he buried himself inside her.
He yanked open the freezer door and stuck his head in, wishing it could be another part of his overheated anatomy.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
“Ice,”
