leaning back on her palms, her legs in front of her.
“You’ll be running full out by this time next week,” she said.
“I expect so.”
“I won’t be coming with you then.”
“Why not?”
She sat up and rubbed at the sore muscles in her thigh. “I can’t keep up with you, Mac.” In more ways than one. He would be going places, while she stayed behind.
Mac dusted off his hands on his shorts, scooted around to her side and, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, began to massage her thigh. She hadn’t let a man touch her like that since she had broken her engagement. Chill bumps rose on her skin at the feel of Mac’s callused fingers on her flesh. It felt amazingly good. It dawned on her that she didn’t feel the least bit afraid. But then, this was Mac. He would never hurt her.
The past two weeks of waiting for Mac to repeat his behavior in the barn had been wonderful and horrible. She loved being with Mac. And she dreaded it. Since the night he had come home early from Evelyn Latham’s house, he had remained an avuncular friend. He had been a tremendous help planning activities for the children. He had made her laugh often. But with the exception of that brief, unfulfilled promise in the barn, there was nothing the least bit sexual in his behavior toward her.
She was unsure of what her feelings were for Mac, but there was no doubting her profound physical reaction to his touch. It was difficult not to look at him as a virile, attractive man, rather than merely as a friend. Even now, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.
The Texas sun had turned him a warm bronze, but a white strip of flesh showed around the waist of his running shorts, confirming the hidden skin was lighter. She caught herself wondering what he would look like without the shorts.
“How does that feel?” he asked as he massaged her thigh. “Better?”
She nodded because she couldn’t speak. It feels wonderful. She wanted his hands to move higher, between her legs. As though she had willed it, his fingertips moved upward on her thigh. She let him keep up the massage, because it felt good. Then stopped him because it felt too good.
“Wait.” She gripped his wrist with her hand, afraid that he would read her mind and realize that the last thing she wanted him to do was stop.
“If you exercised more, maybe your limp wouldn’t be so bad,” he said.
She brushed his hand away from where it lingered on her flesh. “One leg is slightly shorter than the other, Mac. That isn’t going to change with exercise.”
“It might with surgery. They can do remarkable things these days. Have you thought about—”
“What’s going on here, Mac?” she interrupted. “You never said a word to me in the past about my limp. You always told me to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist, that it didn’t keep me from being who I am. What’s changed?”
Mac backed up against the wall again. His gaze was concentrated on the sand he began once more sifting through his fingers.
“Mac?” she persisted. “Answer me.”
He looked up at her, his eyes searching her face. “How can you stand it—not being able to run?”
She shrugged. “I manage.”
“I’d hate it if something like that happened to me.”
“Something like that has happened to you.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’m temporarily out of commission. I’m going to be as good as new.”
Did he really believe that? Jewel wondered. Yes, he had made astonishing progress in two weeks, but even she could see the effort it had taken. One look at his leg—at the scar tissue on his leg—suggested there was never going to be as much muscle to work with as there had been in the past. “What if you can never run again like you used to, Mac? What if you can’t get back to where you were?”
“I will.”
“What if you can’t?”
“I’ll be playing again in the fall. Count on it.”
“You’re purposely avoiding my question. What if you can’t?”
He rose, but it took obvious effort to do so without the cane. She said nothing while he accomplished the feat—a minor miracle considering the condition he’d been in two weeks ago.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly, reaching down to help her to her feet.
She shoved his hand out of the way. “I’m not a cripple, either, Mac,” she said. “I can manage on my own.”
“Damn it, Jewel! What do you want from me?”
“Honesty,” she said, rising and standing toe to toe with him, her eyes focused on his. “You never used to lie to me, Mac. Or to yourself.”
“What is it you want to hear me say? I won’t quit playing football! It’s all I ever wanted to do.”
“You wanted to be a paleontologist.”
“That’s what I said. But inside—” he thumped his bare chest with his fist “—all I ever dreamed about, all I ever wanted to do was run like the wind and catch footballs. It was just so impossible for so long, I never let myself hope for it too much. But I made it happen. And I’m not going to give it up!”
Jewel felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn’t known. She hadn’t realized. If what Mac said was true, then he was facing a much greater crisis than she had imagined.
“Avoiding reality isn’t going to make it go away, Mac,” she said gently. “You have to face your demons.”
“Like you have?” Mac retorted.
Jewel’s face blanched. She turned her back on him and headed up the trail toward the mouth of the canyon.
“Jewel, wait,” Mac said as he hurried after her. He grabbed her arm to stop her. “If you’re going to insist on honesty from me, how about a little from you?”
“What is it you want to know? You know everything,” she said bitterly. “You’re the only one who does!”
He gave her an incredulous look. “You never told anyone else? What about your fiancé?”
She shook her head violently.
“Why the hell not?”
“I couldn’t tell Jerry. I just couldn’t!”
In days gone by he would have put an arm around her to offer her comfort. But things had changed somehow in the two weeks since they had met again. His eyes offered emotional support, instead. “God, Jewel. That’s a heavy burden to be carrying around all by yourself.”
“I’m managing all right.”
“What
