Tin Angel Page 5

  His thoughts drifted to Ally, as they’d done most of the day. He’d worked on his strategy—to make her fall for him so she’d open up—like a general planning for war, but last night had failed miserably. He went over the evening again in his mind. Dinner went well. He chuckled while he thought of that little episode where she almost wound up headfirst in the plants. She acted a little peculiar after that, making the ride home a bit uncomfortable, but his kiss seemed to put things back on track, until she took off like a scared rabbit. He didn’t doubt in the least she’d enjoyed his kiss. He could tell right off when a woman was into him and, boy, was she ever. So what had happened? She’d said something about how she couldn’t do this. Do what? Kiss him? It wasn’t as if he was about to seduce her in the front seat of his car. So what was it that terrified her?

  Jack stood up and strolled over to the window, resting his palms on the sill. If he wasn’t careful, she might not be the only one falling. No matter how many times he told himself women like her were nothing but trouble, he was still drawn to her. Keeping to his plan might take all his willpower.

  He watched the snow pile up on the ground. At the base of the oak tree, Jasper rubbed his back against the rough silvery bark. Off to the right, a yellow streak tore down the driveway, heading toward the cat. In a flash, Jasper raced up the tree and clung to a branch outside his window. The cat stared through the glass at him with wide, fearful ochre eyes, then let out a wail as if crying, Save me.

  Down below, the yellow streak—a rambunctious Labrador retriever—barked and clawed at the tree. Jasper inched farther down the branch.

  “Don’t try it,” Jack warned, fearful the cat would attempt to leap onto the slippery windowsill. Two floors up was a long way to fall, even for a cat. “Stay put. I’ll see what I can do.” It had been years since he’d climbed a tree, but how hard could it be? While putting on his leather jacket, he headed out the door and down the back stairs.

  Outside, the walkway was slick from the snow, and Jack stepped carefully. By the time he reached the base of the tree, the yellow lab was gone. Ally stood in its place. Wearing only a sweater and tight-fitting jeans that hugged every curve, she shivered as she looked up at Jasper.

  “He’s too afraid to come down,” she said.

  “Give him time. When he’s cold enough, he’ll find a way.”

  Ally glared at him. “Animals can get frostbite, you know.”

  “Relax,” he said, placing his foot in the crook of the tree and hoisting himself up. “I came out here to rescue the cat, if I don’t break my neck first.”

  With relative ease, Jack shimmied up the tree. When he reached the branch where Jasper perched, the cat eyed him suspiciously.

  “It’s okay,” he said, “I don’t want to be up here any more than you, so don’t give me trouble.”

  As if realizing this was his only option, the cat inched his way along the branch, coming close enough so that Jack could reach out and grab him. He tucked Jasper inside his jacket and started the climb down.

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” Ally called up.

  “If you really want to thank me, how about offering me something to drink?”

  “Hot chocolate, with or without marshmallows?”

  “I’m an old-fashioned guy; I always take mine with.”

  “Somehow I knew that,” she said with a laugh.

  Jack slid down the trunk until he came to the crook. He swung his leg over, trying to find a footing, but his boot slipped on the ice and snow, throwing him off balance. As he grappled for a branch, Jasper leapt out of his jacket and crawled up the back of his neck, clinging to the top of his head. The cat’s sharp claws dug into his scalp.

  “This is the thanks I get for saving you?” he muttered, holding back a painful groan. Scalped by a cat. So much for his knight-in-shining-armor act. He grabbed for Jasper, then landed spread-eagle in the snow.

  “Oh no! Are you all right?” Ally knelt beside him, her warm breath brushing his cheek.

  For a moment, he considered playing up the situation, but he wasn’t that cruel. Besides his wounded pride, he didn’t think he suffered from anything more than a few bruises. “I’ve survived a lot worse than this,” he said, sitting up and brushing the snow from his clothes. “If that cat hadn’t stuck its claws in my head…”

  “You did a fine job rescuing Jasper.” The corners of her mouth trembled slightly, and he knew she was trying hard to contain her laughter.

  He followed her gaze to the front porch. The cat sat on the top step, cleaning snow from his paws. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

  “How could you say that? Laugh at you?” She stared at him with wide innocent gray eyes, but her lips still quivered.

  “How about that hot chocolate?”

  “Of course. Here, let me help you up,” she said, holding out her hand.

  He wrapped his fingers securely around hers, then attempted to stand. A stabbing pain shot through his ankle, and he tumbled back in the snow, dragging Ally down with him.

  “Very funny,” she quipped, but his pained expression must have told her it was no act. Her brow quickly wrinkled, and a worried expression lined her beautiful face. “Oh Lord. You’re hurt. Is it your foot, your leg, what?”

  Jack bit back a groan. “My ankle. I must’ve sprained it.”

  “Well, I’ve got to get you inside where it’s warm; then I can have a look at it. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” She raced up the porch stairs.

  “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere.” He knew she’d missed his sarcasm, being too preoccupied with whatever it was she was doing. He watched her enter the house with Jasper on her heels. Less than a minute later, she returned carrying a cane. Alice’s cane! What kind of monster lay beneath Ally’s perfect facade? Alice couldn’t go anywhere without her cane. He kept a tight lid on his simmering anger. This wasn’t the time to question her, but once they were inside, she’d better have a good explanation or else…

  “Here,” she said, handing him the cane. “Put your weight on this while I pull you up.”

  With Alice’s cane wedged in the snow and Ally’s hand in his, Jack was able to stand without too much difficulty. He hobbled into the house and collapsed on the sofa in the parlor.

  Ally grabbed a throw and tucked it around him. “Let me get those boots off you,” she said, leaning over him to untie his laces.

  Her hair swept across his legs, and the fresh aroma of cucumber mint wafted up. He leaned back against the cushions, his eyes closed, and waited for the spasm of pain that was sure to come when she pulled off his boot, but her touch was so gentle he barely felt any discomfort. With nimble fingers, she rolled down his sock, then slid it carefully from his foot.

  “Oh my,” she said softly. “You have quite a bit of swelling already. I think you should see a doctor.”

  Jack opened his eyes and looked down at his injury. His ankle was nearly twice its normal size, and the top of his foot was a purplish color. He glanced at the clock on the wall. 5:15 p.m. Charlie Brooks would’ve already left his office for the day. “I hate hospitals,” he said flatly. “I’ll ice it, and if I don’t feel better in the morning, I’ll call the doctor.”

  Ally sprang to her feet. “I can call Doc Brooks right now. He doesn’t mind making house calls.”

  “How do you know that?” He grabbed hold of her arm before she could reach for the phone.

  She hesitated a moment before answering. “Just an assumption. He must have come to the house when he had to treat Aunt Alice. Unless, of course, you drove her to the office?” One shapely brow rose, and he knew she’d tried to turn the tables on him.

  “Doc Brooks, as Alice…and now you…call him, came to the house weekly.” He tried to keep his tone light, while his mind scrambled for an explanation of what this girl could possibly be up to. “I don’t want to bother him tonight. There’s probably nothing more he could do other than ice it anyway.”

  “Okay
, then let me go get you an ice pack.”

  He sensed her relief at not having to make that call after all. When he released his grip on her arm, she hurried from the room as if her shoes were on fire. What the heck was her story? She sure was an odd one. He didn’t doubt she was related to Alice, but the more time he spent with her, the more he distrusted her. He glanced at the cane propped up against the sofa. How could Alice go anywhere without it? He’d get some answers from Ally if he had to grill her like the criminal she might very well be. It surprised him when his stomach turned at the thought. She seemed like a genuinely nice person…

  A few minutes later, her footsteps warned of her return. He pasted a smile on his face and prepared to act again as the curtain went up for another scene in a play he wasn’t sure would have a happy ending.

  “How’s my patient?” she asked, toting a tray with two cups of hot chocolate, a bag of mini-marshmallows, and a large ice pack. Her face was still flushed from the cold, and a lock of chestnut hair fell haphazardly across her brow. She smiled at him with an innocent charm that made her look about twelve.

  After setting the tray on the coffee table, she gently placed the ice pack on his ankle. A shock wave raced up the back of his spine, not only from the cold but also from the touch of her warm fingers against his skin. “Thank you. I’m feeling better now that you’re here.”

  She bit her lip, and he knew she was wondering if he was flirting with her. She reached for one of the delicate china cups, then handed him a hot chocolate. “How many would you like?” she asked, opening the bag of marshmallows.

  “Surprise me.”

  Using silver tongs, something he would have expected Alice to do, she dropped five mini-marshmallows into his cup, then filled her own till cocoa nearly spilled over the side. She never ceased to amaze him. He’d thought for sure she’d use her fingers.

  “I have a sweet tooth,” she said as if revealing a secret.

  Another similarity with Alice, although she’d recently developed diabetes and had to refrain from such treats. It seemed these two women had an awful lot in common.

  Jack sipped his cocoa and watched her over the rim of his cup. She sank into the armchair across from him, tucking one long, lean leg up under her, then, like a contented child, began to eat the marshmallows with a spoon. He reached down next to the side of the sofa and grabbed Alice’s cane. “Where did you get this?”

  She drew her brows together into a frown. “From the closet. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

  “It belongs to Alice.” His voice rose a bit, despite his trying to control it.

  “Of course it does.”

  “She can’t get around without it.”

  “I know that, Jack. What’s the problem? She used a different cane when she left.”

  He gulped his chocolate, embarrassment burning hotter than his steaming drink. What in the world was wrong with him? Alice probably had a closet full of canes. He was becoming suspicious of everything. If he wasn’t careful, he’d scare Ally away. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I think my injury has affected my thinking.”

  A smile curved her full lips. “I understand you’re concerned about my aunt, but believe me, she’s fine.”

  “I’m very fond of her,” he said, trying to excuse his paranoid behavior.

  “And I’m sure she is of you too.”

  “We have so much in common.”

  “The music?” Ally was looking at him as if trying to read his mind.

  He’d said too much already. “She’s a fine woman,” he said quickly. “They don’t make them like that anymore.”

  “Men either. Except for you.” She said it under her breath, but there was no denying he’d heard her correctly.

  “You’re a puzzle, Ally Hart. You look one way, yet act another.”

  She lowered her lashes so he couldn’t see her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Most beautiful women are superficial…”

  “Things aren’t always as they seem.”

  He couldn’t have said it better himself. His gaze flicked over her perfect exterior, and he wondered what secrets were hidden beneath.

  Ally drank the last of her cocoa, then set the cup down on the table. She unfolded her legs from under her and stood. “You’re so young to have formed such an attitude about women.”

  Jack raised a brow. That sounded odd coming from her lips, as if she were so much older and wiser. “Not all women, just a certain type.”

  Ally strolled over to the old Wurlitzer piano at the far end of the room. Her fingers grazed the keys almost lovingly.

  “Do you play?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, turning her back to him. “You?”

  Using the cane, he hobbled over to her and slid his fingers over the keys. “I do, but nowhere near as well as your aunt.” He sat down at the piano and played Rachmaninoff. “Alice’s talent is rare. Music is a part of her soul. It’s a shame her fingers are so stiff now. Her bad days outweigh her good, but when she does play, it’s flawless.”

  Ally watched his hands glide effortlessly over the keys, and he thought he saw the same look in her eyes that Alice would have had for a piece done well. “This is one of your aunt’s favorites,” he said quietly.

  “Yes, it is.”

  His fingers slowed, and he studied Ally’s face.

  “I-I meant, I could see why. It’s lovely.”

  “Very.” His gaze lingered on her lips, and she looked away. He liked that about her—that shyness, that unexpected innocence. “It’s getting late. I should go,” he said, ending the piece on a crescendo.

  “No.” Ally moved across the room and stood by the window. “You’ll never get up all the stairs to your apartment with that ankle. Stay here. You can sleep on the sofa.”

  “I don’t want to put you out. I’m sure I can make it.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Spending the night here with Ally just might get her to open up and tell him the truth about Alice.

  “No, I insist. It’s no bother, really. Besides, I’d feel terrible if you hurt yourself trying to climb those stairs.”

  “All right, if you insist.” Jack tried hard to keep from smiling at his good fortune.

  * * *

  “Are you hungry?” Jack called from the parlor.

  Ally shook her head, returning from the kitchen with a freshly filled ice pack. She set it on his ankle.

  “Feel like pizza?”

  Pizza. Just the thought of it made her stomach growl. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had it. “With the works?”

  “That’s the only way to go.” Jack reached for the phone on the table beside the sofa and dialed. “Hey, Louie,” he said into the receiver, “Jack Billings. Send over my usual.” After he hung up, he said to Alice, “Louie’s on Center Street; nobody makes a better pie. You’ll love it.”

  She didn’t doubt it. Anything would be better than what she could prepare. “I don’t cook much,” Alice said wryly.

  Jack chuckled. “Your aunt doesn’t either. Although she can use her age as an excuse.”

  The way he looked at her made her think he thought she was just too lazy to learn. “I would cook if I had the time,” she said, trying to explain her lack of domestic talent.

  Jack leaned forward, reaching for the picture on the coffee table. Anxiety shot through her. Inside the polished silver frame was a photograph of Tom in uniform. It has been taken the day he left for war. That was the last time she’d seen him.

  “What was he like?” Jack asked, running his finger over the glass.

  “Who?” Alice’s voice came out like a squeak.

  He set the picture back on the table. “The boyfriend you’re hiding from.”

  Relief swept over her that he hadn’t been referring to Tom, but oh Lord, another story. She hadn’t anticipated having to make up tales, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit. What else was she to do, though? Her mind scrambled, trying to think of something to tell him. Sh
e thought of Bethany and the little bit Jack had told her of their relationship. “He was controlling,” she said. “Self-absorbed. I don’t think he knew me at all.”

  Jack’s fabulous blue eyes were tender as he watched her. “I know exactly how you must feel. I left a long-term relationship for those very reasons. I had to get away. That’s why I moved to Silvercreek.”

  Of course she knew that already, but had to pretend this was the first time hearing it. “I’m sorry. It’s difficult when love doesn’t work.”

  He shrugged. “Some things weren’t meant to be.” His gaze locked onto the picture of Tom. “But that’s a tragedy. Alice never got over her loss.”

  Battling poignant memories left her close to tears. She swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. “Do you regret falling in love?”

  Jack leaned back against the sofa and took a moment to answer, as if choosing his words carefully. “I cared for Bethany, but I wasn’t head over heels in love. I discovered that when I met Alice. She’d found her true love and even though they weren’t destined to be together, she never settled for less. Tom lived inside her…”

  His voice was wistful. He understood her so well, and it was as if he felt her pain. Alice wanted to touch him…to run her fingers over his skin…to lay her head on his shoulder and feel the silky softness of his hair against her cheek. She’d waited a lifetime for these feelings, and now they were blossoming for this beautiful man who seemed to know her better than she knew herself. Yet, she was deceiving him… Everything she’d told him was a lie. She turned her head so he couldn’t see the guilt in her eyes.

  “What are your plans for the holiday?”

  She’d forgotten tomorrow was Christmas Eve. “I don’t have any plans. I guess I’ll wear my sweats and watch old movies.” She tried hard to sound upbeat.

  “Spend it with me.”

  Although there was nothing more she’d rather do than spend the evening with Jack, she wasn’t sure that would be such a good idea. Her feelings for him were growing stronger by the minute, and if he found out she was a fraud, he’d hate her—and rightly so. “Oh, I don’t know.”