Perfectly Matched

“The doctors said it was a total success. Now it only hurts when I move,” he joked. Shay didn’t laugh. “I can’t throw a football fifty feet,” he admitted. Her eyes darkened with sympathy that Nick didn’t want, so he moved the focus back to her. “Why did you buy the farm, Shay?”

“Because it’s my home. I know every nook and cranny of that land, and I always liked living there.” She smirked. “I like it even more now. The old house was a wreck, so I had it torn down and built a new one. You should visit me. I’ve got the best view in this county.”

“But surely you don’t intend to farm? The orchards must be in very bad shape.” Nick couldn’t fathom what this model-turned-physiotherapist would do with a pecan farm.

“Well, I was told the harvest in December didn’t yield much. But I do think the trees will come back eventually. I’ll wait and see. For now I have to concentrate on my practice.” Her voice softened. “Anyway, it’s not the orchard I wanted, Nick, as much as my home. Dad had big plans for the family place. I’d like to fulfill some of them, but that’s down the road. For now, I have to live somewhere, so it might as well be on familiar territory.”

Nick searched her face. He knew her well enough to know there was something she wasn’t saying. Shay avoided his intent look by tossing the scant remains of her cone in a nearby trash can. She offered Maggie a tissue to clean up her hands then asked, “Would you like to try the swing, honey?”

The little girl frowned, her eyes speculative. Finally she nodded, very slowly.

“I’ll help you.” Shay lifted his niece into her arms and carried her to the swing. With an ease that surprised Nick, she set Maggie on the seat, told her to hang on then gently pushed until the swing swayed back and forth.

Concern grabbed at Nick as alarm filled Maggie’s face.

“Uh, Shay, maybe you shouldn’t—”

She pinned him with her world-famous stare. “It’s okay, Nick,” she assured him, her quiet, firm tone communicating that she had everything under control.

Nick’s argument died on his lips. He nodded and she continued pushing Maggie, offering encouragement.

“Can your toes touch the sky, Maggie?” Shay’s casual gaze intensified as she assessed the child. “Wow! That’s amazing.”

Nick sat on the end of a child’s slide and observed Shay coax Maggie through a series of moves using little dares that began with “Betcha can’t...” Maggie responded every time, engrossed in the tasks as she pushed herself to prove she could do it. After a few minutes Shay slowed the swing, hugged the little girl and said something that widened Maggie’s grin. Shay took the swing beside her and together they swayed back and forth, chattering like magpies. Eventually Shay beckoned him over.

“I think Maggie has had enough swinging,” she said, tilting her head to indicate Maggie’s drooping body.

Nick took his cue, strode forward and bent to lift his niece free. Before he could, Shay reached out and touched his hands, her fingers firm as she rearranged his grip.

“Higher,” she murmured in his ear. “Like this. Not under her knees.”

So he had been hurting Maggie. Inside him, anger exploded at his clumsiness and the seeming hopelessness of her situation. The doctor’s words today hadn’t been encouraging. Maggie wasn’t moving as much as expected. Small wonder. She had missed so many therapy sessions in Las Cruces. It wasn’t his mom’s fault but—well, at least he was here to help now. If only he could do more.

Using great care, Nick set Maggie in the truck and fastened her seat belt. He waited for Shay to climb inside, but she pushed the door closed.

“I’ll walk back. I need the exercise after that gigantic cone.” She patted her flat midriff and grinned. “I’ve gained five pounds since I’ve been back.”

He couldn’t see where. Shay looked fantastic in her white fitted pants and navy blue shirt. Her peaches-and-cream skin, flawless except for the trademark spattering of freckles across her elegant nose, glowed radiant in the unrelenting desert sun.

Nick blinked in surprise as a thud of male appreciation hit him. Shay was gorgeous, of course. Always had been. But he wasn’t attracted to her—they’d been friends, that’s all.

“Uh, we’d better get—”

“Nick, can you come to my place tonight?” Shay asked quietly. “I need to talk to you about Maggie.”

Since that was exactly what he wanted to talk to her about, he nodded. “Seven-thirty?”

She agreed. “Good seeing you, Nick.” Shay lifted her hand and almost touched his arm before she quickly backed away.

“Good to see you, too, Shay,” he said, confused by her abrupt actions, almost as if she were afraid of the contact. “I’ll see you later.”

As he drove away, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Shay stood where he’d left her, staring after them, copper hair glistening, her lovely face pensive.

“Is Shay your girlfriend, Uncle Nick?”

“Huh? No.” Nick laughed. That was absurd, of course. Nick didn’t do relationships—well, not with the memory of his father’s abandonment melded into his brain. The entire town had gossiped and mourned Cal Green’s lack of consideration for his family. When his father had finally walked out for good, Nick had heard enough whispers and pity to last a lifetime. He’d tried once to rebuild his connection with his father and twice to have a romantic relationship and he’d failed badly at all three. Fearing he might take after his father, Nick now avoided those kinds of emotional entanglements.

“Then how come you know her?” Maggie asked.

“Shay’s a friend. We grew up together.”

“I like her,” Maggie said while yawning. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep as he drove home.

But Nick was wide awake. And foremost on his mind was why Shay hadn’t mentioned anything about their encounter in New York. Maybe he’d ask her about that tonight.

He looked again in his mirror and saw her walking across the park, her pace furious.

As if she was running away from something.

Or someone.

Yes, Shay Parker was most definitely not telling him something.

Chapter Two

Shay checked her yard for the third time in less than five minutes, sat down to knit, then rose and peered through the window again, anxious to determine what had caused the crunching sound on the gravel driveway.

Nothing there.

She inhaled and counted to ten while fighting back the burgeoning cloud of alarm now swelling inside her head. This was what no one understood, what she’d only recently learned for herself. Her panic attacks were about losing control. That’s what her stalker had left her with—the fear that her world would go careening out of control and that she’d unravel worse than she ever had before.

And there would be nobody there to help her put herself back together again.

Think about Nick, she ordered her jittery brain. Nick was a friend, a very good friend.

Had been a friend, her brain corrected without her permission. Because if he was a friend, why, when Nick’s fingers had brushed hers when he’d handed her the cone, had she felt fear? Sure, she’d covered by making a joke about his ice cream choice, but later when she’d almost touched his arm, her pulse had skittered and she’d jerked away because she’d had a flashback.

Her stalker’s name was Dom. Or at least, that’s what he’d called himself. He’d said he touched her, and she hadn’t known.

The memory of someone brushing her shoulder and touching her arm before a shoot still haunted her. Back then Shay hadn’t suspected anything untoward, not until she’d received that phone call—I’m closer than you think. I can touch you whenever I want. In fact, I already have, lots of times. Almost three years later and she still hadn’t rid herself of the panic. That’s what had ruined her relationship with Eric. What man wanted to be with someone who froze like a nervous Nellie whenever he embraced her?

Eric had taught Shay that she could never have a normal relationship with a man. The shame, the embarrassment and, most of all, the longing to love haunted her still.

“Shay?”

Shay yelped as she jerked back to awareness. An involuntary rush of fear clutched her throat until she realized Nick stood outside her door.

“Uh, can I come in?” He rattled the handle, studying her with a quizzical look.