Page 8 of Her Secret Wish

As he punched the numbers in to his cell phone, he had to pause to clench his quaking hand. Forcing his fingers to move, he finished the sequence then waited, breath held, for her to answer.

But she didn’t answer.

Disappointment swamped him and he had to shake it off. Even as he debated calling her again, the cell phone rang in his hand. Heaving a breath, he swiped a finger across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hello. Is this Dean?” The voice was tentative.

“Yes! Rachel?”

“Yes,” she chuckled. “Sorry I missed you the first time. I couldn’t move as fast as I needed to grab the phone.”

“No big deal. Really. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I’m up. Achy. Trying not to take the pain pills they gave me.”

Dean could totally sympathize. “I was in a motorcycle wreck a few years ago. Destroyed my right ankle and messed up my knee. I can understand not wanting to take the pills. They knocked my butt out and made me dizzy. And nauseous.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what they do. And I’m bored out of my mind. When I get like this I usually go work out but the doctor said I have to lay off that for a week.”

That sounded like an opening if he’d ever heard one. “Can I bring over some takeout? We can play cards or I can stop and rent a couple movies.”

“Oh,” she sighed, and he could tell she was thinking. “Yeah, that might be okay.”

Though it wasn’t the rousing ‘hell, yeah’ he’d hoped for he’d take it. “Okay, I’ll be over in about an hour.”

“Sounds perfect. Later!”

Chapter Four

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An hour. Okay.What did she need to do in an hour?

Settle her nerves, first off.

With that thought in mind, Rachel went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Grunt, her feline roommate, looked at her with mild reproach as she moved around. Though his food bowl was mostly full, enough had been eaten that he feared starvation, apparently. Crossing to the cupboard with his dry cat food, Rachel very carefully leaned over, back straight, and drew it out of the depths. Pain shafted through her spine as she raised herself up. She decided then to leave the canister on the counter.

Rachel looked around the house. Though she wasn’t a messy person there were a few things she needed to pick up. She went to the bedroom closet and reached up to the top shelf, searching. There it was. She pulled down the long aluminum stick of the gripper tool. It was only about three feet long, but it kept her from having to bend over.

Moving slowly through the house she picked up the items she needed to and lit a candle. Though she couldn’t decorate worth a damn she loved to have candles around. Maybe the yummy smell would make up for sitting on the plain brown furniture.

Glancing at the clock, she winced. Dean would be here within forty minutes. The thought of having a man she didn’t work with in her space was very strange, but a tingle of feminine excitement ran through her. It had been months since she’d been out on a date, and she certainly hadn’t been excited before, during, or after that disaster.

Rachel showered and cleaned up, then took the time to add just a bit of makeup to her eyes. She’d never been one to use a lot. As she looked at the bruising and small line of black stitches at her temple, she wished she’d have listened to one of her girlfriends when they’d tried to teach her. There was a bottle of foundation in the basket beneath the counter, but when she opened the lid she realized it had dried out. Grrr…

Moving to the bedroom, she stood in front of her closet doors. If he was just bringing over some pizza or something, she didn’t need to go all out but maybe more than jeans and a T-shirt. Dragging the hangers along the rod, she debated what to wear. Her hand hovered over a nice apricot colored button down shirt, a little more feminine than what she normally wore. Mentally shrugging, she slipped it on. It would have to do.

Running some pink gloss over her lips and scraping her hair back into a ponytail she moved back out to the living room to stare at the clock. Anxiety hit her then. Was this a date? Kind of?

Dean arrived right on the dot of seven, knocking firmly on the door. Rachel’s heartbeat took off and she blinked at the sudden tension in her body. Deliberately taking a deep breath she moved to pull open the door.

Dean grinned as soon as he saw her, his vivid aquamarine eyes crinkling with emotion. “Hello, Rachel.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Lifting his pale brows, he ran his gaze over her face. The man got brownie points for not looking at her chest. But then she kind of wished he would because his direct, drawn-out examination was making her a little uncomfortable.

“You look amazing. I hope this didn’t stress you out too soon after the accident.”

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