Change of Heart

  What he saw was a woman whose eyes darted around nervously. She seemed to be searching for something, but wasn’t seeing it.

  She was too thin and her words about her beauty being her only asset haunted him. There were delicate, faint lines at her eyes, and he wondered how her polo-playing, race-car-driving boyfriends were reacting to those lines. He seemed to remember photos of those men with girls in their early twenties. At thirty-two, Chelsea just might be considered too old for them.

  When they went back to the booth, he watched her throw back another straight shot of tequila in a way that showed she’d done it many times before.

  His life had been missing her. But what was missing in Chelsea’s life?

  She put her empty shot glass down and looked at the dancers on the floor. Her eyes stopped at a man who was moving about with a pretty blonde clinging to him. He was holding her, but he was looking at Chelsea.

  “Am I going to have to fight him too?” Eli said.

  Chelsea turned back to him. “Not on my part. I never like men who are too easy to get, and he’s a one.”

  At Chelsea’s glance, the man moved him and his date closer to their booth.

  Eli stood up, putting himself between the man and the table. Eli was taller, younger, and had more muscle than the man. With a derisive little guffaw, he moved away.

  Eli sat down beside Chelsea on her side of the booth and reached across for his beer. “What’s this ‘one’ mean?”

  “It’s a girl thing. Would you really have hit him for me?”

  “Would you like it if I had?”

  Chelsea groaned. “You sound like my therapist. But to answer your question, a one is from the Challenge Test. A girlfriend and I made it up. We judge men as one to three.”

  “On their looks?”

  “Heavens, no! That’s old-school. It’s how hard they are to get. How much you have to work to get a man to notice you—without letting him know you’re interested, that is.”

  “And that guy is a one?”

  “More like a point one.” As she picked up Eli’s beer bottle and drank from it, she smiled at the guy who was dancing.

  “So you’re just playing with him now?”

  “Yes. And I can see that you don’t approve.”

  “Seems like a waste. But the concept is interesting.” Eli took his beer back and drank deeply of it. “Any threes in this room?”

  She didn’t take her eyes off his. “The man at the bar.”

  Eli was a bit shocked but also impressed that she’d been observing the people so closely. Turning, he saw that every stool at the bar was full.

  “The one on the far left,” she said. “The big guy with the smoldering good looks. He’s a three. Top-of-the-line. He’s well built, has a good face, no wedding ring, and he’s minding his own business. Since we’ve been here, two pretty women have tried with him but he’s not interested.”

  That she’d seen all that further impressed Eli. How had he forgotten how she had talents that he didn’t? “Maybe it’s women in general he doesn’t like.”

  “No, he’s checked out every woman who’s come through the door.” She turned to Eli. “I bet twenty bucks that I can get him to notice me.”

  “Of course you can. You’re the prettiest girl here. Unbutton your blouse and—”

  “No. Not that way. That’s for college girls. I will get his attention by ignoring him.”

  Eli didn’t like what she was saying but at the same time, he was intrigued. It had been years since any problem he’d encountered didn’t involve numbers and a computer—or a firearm. He took out his wallet and put a twenty on the table. “You’re on.”

  Chelsea waited for Eli to get out of the booth, then she got up, picked up the empty shot glasses, and took them to the bar. She stood close beside the man, who was sitting alone, quietly drinking his beer.

  “Two more of these,” she said to the bartender, then leaned forward and waited. She kept her head turned away from the man. Never once did she so much as glance at the man on the stool.

  Eli watched as the man slowly looked her up and down. He reminded Eli of someone. He caught the attention of the waitress and asked who he was.

  “Lanny Frazier, the sheriff’s brother.”

  When Chelsea’s drinks came, two full shots and two beer bottles with clean glasses over them, she picked them up, but nearly dropped one bottle. The man caught it.

  “Thanks,” Chelsea said in a brusque way, but she still didn’t look at him. She went back to the table. “Is he looking?” she asked Eli.

  “Actually, he is.”

  She sat down, took the twenty off the table, and slipped it into her cleavage.

  “Interesting talent,” Eli said, “but perhaps of dubious merit.” He paused. “In reference to your Challenge Test, may I ask what I am?”

  Chelsea downed another shot. She was indeed getting drunk. “You are a one. Beyond easy. You look at me like it’s one hundred and ten in the shade and I’m an ice cream sundae.”

  Before she finished the words, she glanced back at the man at the bar. He had turned away, but that didn’t keep her from admiring the way his muscles moved under his shirt.

  Eli pretended that her words meant nothing to him, and he changed the subject. “What happened to your interest in photography?” he asked. “You once said you were going to become a great news photographer.”

  “I think ambition for a career left me when Eli did.”

  “I was told that you left him.”

  Chelsea waved her hand. “Whatever. He certainly didn’t come after me riding on a black stallion, did he? You want to dance?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  8

  Eli pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine, and looked at Chelsea in the passenger seat. She was half-asleep, half-awake, and humming a little tune. He got out and went around to pull her from the car. When she had trouble standing, he put her over his shoulder and carried her inside. He would have put her on his bed but there were too many things in the room that belonged to him and he didn’t want her to see them—not if he meant to keep up his charade of who he was.

  He carried her up the stairs to the guest room and put her on the bed. He slipped off her shoes but didn’t touch her other garments. “Well, ice cream sundae,” he said as he looked down at her, “looks like you’re about to melt.”

  He stood there for a moment. She looked good in the barely lit room, but that’s not what interested him. Tonight he’d seen that the Chelsea he used to know—and love—was still in there. She still liked a challenge, still liked to prove herself. It was just that somewhere along the way, she’d lost her direction.

  Eli turned out the light and went downstairs. He was known for his ability to set goals and make step-by-step plans to reach them. Rarely did they fail. Right now a new plan was forming in his head and this one was not going to fail.

  Earlier, as Jeff lay on the floor of the house, the side of his face aching, he’d cursed the entire Taggert family. What normal person needed boxing lessons? Who needed to pick up pieces of iron and put them down again? It wasn’t natural!

  He got up with the help of a chair back. Now what happened? Was he supposed to keep up the lie of being Eli? Fat lot of good that did him. He’d only said what Eli had. Quoted him verbatim. And now his whole head was hurting because of it.

  His intention had been to make Eli fake getting angry, then leave with the girl he was trying to impress. He’d never thought that Eli would actually get angry. And certainly hadn’t considered that he might hit him.

  Jeff flexed his jaw. It didn’t seem to be broken, but it hurt!

  He went to the bathroom in Eli’s bedroom and looked in the medicine cabinet for some painkillers, but saw nothing. He’d negotiated for the house to be furnished, but he hadn’t thought of things like
over-the-counter medicines.

  When the cabinet shut, he saw his face in the mirror. It was swelling and his eye was turning dark.

  He went back into the bedroom but didn’t know what to do next. Since he was supposed to be Eli—at least to Chelsea, anyway—did he take over the house? Or should he pack and leave?

  All he knew for sure was that his head was hurting too much to think clearly. He got his car keys from the bowl by the front door and left.

  He drove into town, parked, got out, and looked around for a drugstore.

  “Hey, Jeff,” came a voice behind him.

  It was Melissa and he did not want her to see his face. Putting his hand over his eye, he turned halfway toward her. “Hi.”

  But she did see. Instantly, her pretty face went from smiling to being the deputy sheriff. “Who hit you?”

  “I ran into a—”

  “Who hit you?”

  “Eli,” he said and Melissa took her phone out of her pocket. “Wait! Please. Let me explain.”

  “Assault is not an explainable action.”

  “It is if I set it up so Eli could impress a girl.”

  “I’m listening,” Melissa said.

  “Could we go somewhere and get something for pain?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Then we’re going to sit down and you’re going to tell me every word of this story. If I don’t like it, I’m going to arrest Eli.”

  “Then I guess I better add Master Storyteller to my many other talents.”

  She didn’t smile. “Looks like you should.”

  Hours later—after Melissa’d had the local doctor check Jeff’s jaw and X-ray it—they were having dinner in a very nice restaurant and Jeff was just finishing telling his life story. They’d stopped talking about Eli and his problems thirty minutes after they got together. Melissa said, “Eli’s an idiot.”

  Jeff agreed. “He’s got a dozen gorgeous females after him, but he wants some girl who drinks champagne for breakfast. Why does he think that’s going to work?”

  “I’m living proof that opposites don’t mesh,” Melissa said as she flaked off a piece of trout.

  “You?” Jeff said. “I would think you could have any man you wanted.”

  “Thanks, but men like me until I cancel the third date in a row. When something happens, Colin expects me to be there. I can’t tell him, ‘Sorry about the three-car pileup, but I have a hot date.’ ”

  “Same with me,” Jeff said. “Eli calls me at three a.m. and asks me questions. He works in thirty-hour marathons and thinks I’m a wimp when I fall asleep. When we were writing on Trafalgar Knights, I thought—”

  “You wrote that game?” Melissa’s eyes were wide.

  “With Eli,” Jeff said modestly. “It sold well.”

  “Are you kidding? I have three nephews and I bought each of them that game. The hugs I got were worth the price.”

  “Game two, Trafalgar Warriors, is about to come out. I can get you some early copies.”

  “Would you? I’d be such a hero to my nephews that maybe my sister would get off my back about my lack of a life.” She looked down at her food. “So where are you staying tonight?”

  “At Eli’s house, I guess. Unless he’s told her the truth. Any motels around here?”

  “There are, but there’s also an empty apartment above the sheriff’s office. It’s not great. In fact, it’s so gloomy that Colin calls it the Devil’s Den. But it has a bed and a kitchen and . . .” She shrugged.

  “And it’s near you,” Jeff said, smiling. “I mean, in case something bad happens, it’s nice to be near law enforcement.”

  “Yeah,” Melissa said. “I’m a great shot.”

  “Good to know,” Jeff said. “I’m not. Except with a game, then I can vanquish any demon you can throw at me. But in real life I’ve never even held a gun.”

  “A person should know about firearms. Maybe you’d like some lessons.”

  “I would like that very much,” he said. “Did your nephews have any trouble with level six and the underwater battle?”

  “Is that the one with the giant squid?”

  “Yeah, and the treasure,” he said.

  “They did. Maybe Sunday you could go with me to my sister’s house for dinner and show them a few tricks.”

  Jeff took out his phone and began to tap out a text.

  “Something urgent?”

  “I’m telling our editor that I need six copies of the new game sent by express so they get here by Sunday. That okay with you?”

  “More than okay.”

  They smiled at each other.

  When Jeff’s phone rang and woke him up, he didn’t have to look at the clock or the ID. Of course it was Eli.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Nothing’s broken,” Jeff said.

  “Did you have X-rays to make sure? I hit you too hard. I’m sorry. I’ve never hit anyone before. Where are you now? You didn’t need surgery, did you? You—”

  “I’m fine!” Jeff said loudly. “Yes to X-rays, no to surgery, and no hospital. I’m in an apartment above the sheriff’s office and—”

  “I don’t blame you for pressing charges.”

  “I didn’t,” Jeff said. “I’m dating the sheriff’s deputy. She’s pretty and smart and . . . Oh, well. So how did it go with Chelsea?”

  “I didn’t do as well as you did,” Eli said. “She thinks I’m too easy, that I represent no challenge to her.”

  “I could have told you that. In fact, I did tell you that.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not the problem. She’s not happy.”

  “And you are?”

  Eli hesitated. “I need you to do something for me. I want you to buy some camera equipment and camping gear. I’m going to take Chelsea camping and try to renew her interest in photography.”

  “That sounds really exciting. Camping.” His voice was sarcastic. “She likes sleeping outdoors?”

  “No. She hates it. Always has.”

  “Then why—?”

  “I have my reasons,” Eli said, but didn’t explain further.

  “I have just one question,” Jeff said. “Are you still in love with her?”

  “Absolutely,” Eli said. “It’s never changed and I didn’t think it would.” He hung up.

  Jeff had trouble going back to sleep and he woke early. One thing he realized during his wakefulness was that it was in his own best interest to make this work between Eli and Chelsea. If it didn’t, Eli’s broken heart would affect a lot of people. Hell! It could affect the entire country. Maybe the world.

  Jeff waited until seven to call Melissa. “Not too early, is it?”

  “I’ve been working out since six,” she said.

  “That explains why you look so good in your uniform.”

  “Yeah? So what’s on your mind?”

  He told her about Eli’s planned camping trip and the photography sessions.

  “She hates camping, but that’s where he’s taking her? That boss of yours is romance personified. Want to meet for breakfast and talk about this?”

  “Anything in town open at this hour?”

  “My kitchen is.”

  Jeff drew in his breath. “My favorite restaurant. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Eli was dreaming. He was remembering how he and Chelsea had been best friends, how they’d worked so well together. Then the dream changed and they were both adults and she held out her arms to him.

  He pulled her close, feeling her warm body against his, and he kissed her. It wasn’t a kiss like any he’d ever felt before, but deeper, reaching down inside himself.

  The dream continued and they were in bed together. His leg moved over her hips; his mouth was on hers. Searching, seeking. It was the first time that all of him, his body, his mind, his very so
ul, had merged with another person. He was holding nothing back. This was Chelsea, the women he’d loved all his life. If there were ever soul mates, they were it.

  Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and light came in. “Do you have any pain pills? Aspirin? Ibuprofen?”

  “Kitchen,” Eli said as his lips moved to Chelsea’s neck.

  A switch was flipped and the two bedside lights came on.

  “I don’t mean to bother you two, but where in the kitchen?”

  It took Eli a moment to realize who was at his bedroom door. He turned sideways to look at her, his eyes trying to adjust to the light. “Chelsea?”

  Pointedly, she looked at the woman in Eli’s arms. She had long dark hair and sultry eyes that were only half-open. Her lips were full and quite red from kissing.

  He turned to her. “Pilar?”

  “Mmmm,” she said as she snuggled against him. “And good morning to you, too.”

  Eli started to move away but she twisted one of her long—and bare—legs around his and he couldn’t move without a wrestling match.

  “Top right-hand drawer in the island,” Pilar said to Chelsea. “Maybe you could give us a bit of time together. Oh, by the way, I’m Pilar, and you must be Chelsea. I’m so very pleased to meet you.”

  Chelsea watched as Pilar stepped out of bed. She had on a man’s white dress shirt, her long legs bare. She was almost as tall as Chelsea, almost as slim, and nearly as beautiful. “I’ll . . .” She couldn’t think what to say. “Kitchen,” she added, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Eli said as soon as they were alone, and he sat up in the bed.

  “Giving your race-car-loving girlfriend a bit of a competition. You know, Eli, if you kissed other women like you just did me, they’d be all over you. A woman would die for you.”

  “That’s the last thing I want. Would you put on some clothes?”

  “Sure.” She unbuttoned the shirt and slipped it off. Under it she wore a matching pair of lacy and very small underwear.

  “That isn’t what I meant,” he said, but he didn’t look away as she walked across the room to get her clothes off the back of a chair. She had a truly beautiful body. “Did Jeff put you up to this?”