The Secrets of Her Past

“It’s a Piper Seminole, a safe one. Fast, too.”

She swiveled her head from side to side. There wasn’t anyone else nearby. “Where’s our pilot?”

“You’re looking at him.”

Her mouth dried and adrenaline raced through her veins. “You own a plane?”

“In partnership with several surgeons at the hospital.”

He closed the distance between them, then pushed up the dark lenses. His steady gaze held hers. “Madison, I became a pilot so I could understand what happened that day and make sure it didn’t happen to me again. You’ll be safe with me—safer than on the interstate in Andrew’s old truck. Once we get in the air you’ll see some amazing scenery, and in a couple hours you’ll be on the ground again.”

She wasn’t convinced.

He huffed an impatient breath. “Flying will save you ten hours of travel time round trip each week.”

When he put it that way... “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m a little apprehensive. I’ve never flown before.”

“Conquer your fears, Doc, or they’ll conquer you. Trust me, you’ll love it once we’re airborne.”

Trust a man who detested her? Tall order. She wasn’t sure she’d love flying, but she ordered her feet forward, taking one step, two, on legs as weak and numb as they’d been after she’d finished her first half marathon. Was it fear? Or excitement?

Adam stepped in front of her. “I have to get in first since there’s only one door, then you’ll step up onto the wing and slide down into your seat. Watch where I put my feet.”

Another bubble of nervousness rose in her throat. She hesitated, running her gaze over the aircraft and searching for loose seams or bolts or anything that didn’t look...right. Not that she knew what she was looking for. But she hated the idea of climbing into that tin can and being trapped beside Adam for the length of the flight when her body was having fits of nostalgia for her missed sex life.

But Adam was not Andrew, and she was not going there with him.

Adam climbed aboard, then turned and offered his hand to help her climb inside. The moment their palms met and his long fingers curled around hers a current of awareness flowed through her, and she realized she was in trouble because her body obviously did not know what was good for it.

* * *

A PRICKLE OF foreboding crept up Madison’s spine when the headlights’ beam landed on the brick pillars marking the entrance to Adam’s neighborhood. Surely Helen and Danny weren’t waiting for them? It was almost ten o’clock—too late for visiting.

Adam had said little during the flight, communicating more to the people on the other end of the radio headset than with her. He’d only spoken to Madison when pointing out pieces of interesting scenery—a winery and a lake and the tail end of the Appalachians. His silence had screamed louder than a crowd of rowdy teenagers at a rock concert that he didn’t want her here. That made two of them.

But she had to admit, he’d been right. Other than twinges of anxiety during takeoff and landing, she’d enjoyed the flight.

The lack of conversation had been both a blessing and a curse. What could she say to someone who only tolerated her out of necessity? But the lack of interaction had given her time to worry about how she’d handle staying at the Drakes’ home—a place where she’d once experienced so much love but which now held open hostility, at least from Helen. Mostly she’d tried to prepare herself for sleeping in the bed she’d once shared with Andrew.

Adam steered the car into his driveway and hit the remote to open his garage door. Her sense of foreboding rose along with that door.

“Are your parents meeting us here?”

“No.” He parked and turned off the ignition. The garage door lowered behind them with a hum of gears, sealing her inside.

A sinking sensation weighted her stomach. Adam left the car, opened the trunk and extracted her duffel bag. Her brain screamed in denial. She threw open her door and bolted to her feet. “I’m staying here? With you?”

“Yes.” The bite in the word revealed his displeasure.

“Why not a hotel or at your parents’ house?”

“They’re living in a motor home parked in their driveway while the renovation is underway. There’s no room for you.”

No. No. No.

“This isn’t going to work. Call Danny. I’m sure he’ll make arrangements for a hotel.”

“He’s having surgery tomorrow. For cancer—a life-threatening disease. He has enough on his plate without worrying about your demands. Could you think about someone other than yourself for once?”

She gasped at the injustice of the statement. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Dad wants you here.”

“How will I get to his office? Is he going to loan me his car?”

A bark of laughter severed her words. “No one drives Dad’s Corvette except him.”

“But—”

“Madison, he asked me to make sure you kept your promise. I’m to drive you to work each morning and pick you up each evening.”

Adam was her babysitter. “He doesn’t trust me?”

“Why should he? You’ve given him no reason to believe you won’t cut and run when things get tough.”

Madison gulped the panic welling within her. She was trapped. Trapped in hell with the spitting image of her dead husband. With no escape. No matter how bad things got. And she was too far from anywhere to pay what would no doubt be an exorbitant taxi fee.

Two nights under Adam’s roof. She inhaled and exhaled, fighting for calm. Two nights, she repeated silently. She could get through them, but next week she’d insist on alternative accommodations.

CHAPTER THREE

ADAM MIGHT BE forced to house and chauffeur Madison, but he didn’t have to befriend her. He planned to park her in her room, putting her out of sight and out of mind until tomorrow. And then he’d have seven more weekends to get through—if she kept her promise. He doubted she would. He expected her to bail long before September.

He dropped her suitcase inside the door of the bedroom on the opposite end of the house from his and stepped out of her way. “Guest room’s here. Bathroom’s next door. We leave at seven in the morning. Be ready.”

Madison swept past him, trailing the barely perceptible fragrance of flowers that had taunted him in the cockpit during their flight. Her scent wasn’t overpowering like some of the perfumes the women he encountered at work often wore. Instead, Madison’s was just subtle enough to tease his nose and interfere with his concentration as he tried to identify the components.

A ridiculous waste of time. He turned to walk away. A gasp stopped him.

Madison stood by the bed, her body rigid, facing the shelf above the television holding Andrew’s sports memorabilia. Individual protective glass boxes enclosed an autographed football from Andrew’s favorite NFL player, a pyramid of signed baseballs they’d collected on a summer road trip when hitting as many major league ballparks as possible, and a golf glove from the Masters Tournament champion the year they’d both graduated high school.

“I’d forgotten about those.” Madison’s voice quivered slightly, as did her fingers when she tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear. When she’d been married to Andrew she’d kept her hair cut to chin length. It hung to the center of her back now, with shorter strands sweeping her shoulders when she turned to look at him.

Something lurked in her eyes—something deep, dark and...painful? Adam dismissed the notion. If she’d thought about his brother or the Drake family at all since Andrew’s death, Adam had seen no evidence of it.

He’d forgotten about the collection, too. He never came into this room. He’d been dating an interior designer when he’d built the house, and he’d given her free rein when she’d volunteered to do the decorating. But yes, he still remembered the shock the first time he’d seen what she’d dug out of the boxes in his attic.

Putting Madison in here with Andrew’s prized possessions hadn’t been intentional. He’d simply chosen the room farthest from his. But if seeing the collection served as penance, so be it. Why should she be able to walk away and forget when he couldn’t?