CHAPTER FIVE

      DUFFY WAS A GENTLEMAN.

      Not only had he offered Jess a place to stay, but since he’d walked from his house, he’d asked for Jessica’s keys and braved the rain to bring her car to the restaurant’s front door. Jessica waited in the crowded lobby of El Rosal with Eunice and the rest for vehicles to be brought around, hopeful that being stranded meant Baby would have a positive relationship with Uncle Duffy someday.

      The sheriff braved the downpour and as vehicles pulled up, he called out the names of waiting passengers. It wasn’t long before he announced, “Eunice and Jessica.”

      Eunice held on to Jessica’s arm as they picked their way through the puddles to Jessica’s car. Rain pelted them in big, angry drops, bouncing off the pavement and back at them.

      Duffy was scrunched in the driver’s seat, shoulders hunched and knees bent on either side of the steering wheel. “I couldn’t get the seat to go back any farther,” he admitted when Jess noticed. “Good thing it’s a short drive.”

      “The last time this happened was 1992,” Eunice said from the backseat. “The roads were flooded for five days.”

      Jessica began to feel foolish for ignoring the flood warnings. She didn’t want to be trapped with Duffy for five days. Not to mention, Vera would fire her.

      The rain pounded on the roof and the windshield wipers could barely keep their view clear. Duffy drove slowly, but they still created a wake in the rising water.

      “When we get rain, we really get rain,” Eunice was saying over all the storm noise, as if she were their personal tour guide. “Sometimes the rain doesn’t stop for days. The clouds can’t seem to make it past the range that starts with Parish Hill.”

      Neither Jessica nor Duffy said a word. She could tell by Duffy’s gripping and regripping the wheel that he was having second thoughts about inviting her to stay since it might be for more than one night.

      A turn onto the town square, a turn off the town square and they were at Eunice’s house. Duffy pulled into her driveway.

      “Thanks for the ride,” Eunice sing-songed. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jessica.”

      “Let’s hope we don’t see her while I’m making coffee,” Duffy muttered after he’d escorted the old woman to her door. He waited until Eunice was safely inside her house with the lights on before backing out and parking Jessica’s car next to his truck.

      Duffy’s house was a small, old home with gingerbread gables. Most of it was dark and in shadow. The porch light barely reached beyond the front steps.

      He waited in the downpour for Jessica to come around the hood, and then took her arm and led her up the stairs to the door. He paused with his key in the lock, gazing down on her with an endearingly sweet smile she’d never have suspected he possessed. “I can’t remember what state the house is in.”

      “I don’t care, as long as it’s dry.” She was wet, and starting to shiver.

      He opened the door and turned on a light in the foyer. “Stay here while I do a quick run-through.”

      “I’m not Eunice. I won’t snoop to see what’s in your fridge or which magazines you keep in your bathroom.”

      “I meant...” His grin turned mischievous, making Baby do an equilibrium-busting tummy flip. “I have a tendency to shed my clothes as I come. I usually leave them on the floor like...um, bread crumbs leading to the shower.”

      “By all means, pick up your unmentionables.” Jess removed her jacket, hanging it on a coatrack near the door. Next to go were her wet sneakers. She held the damp sweater away from her skin. Baby was hunkered on her bladder. As soon as Duffy gave the okay, she was restroom bound.

      The living room had worn hardwood floors and a fireplace with built-in white bookshelves on either side. Beyond that, the main room was classic, out-of-date bachelor pad—a brown leather couch, a black lacquered coffee table and a television mounted over the mantel. The small oak dining room table beneath the kitchen pass-through was in worse shape than Jessica’s. Nothing was hung on the walls, but photos of people were on a couple of shelves.

      At the risk of seeming as nosy as Eunice, Jess moved closer.

      There were several photos of an older couple with salt-and-pepper hair. The man was in a wheelchair, and had Duffy and Greg’s dark coloring. The woman had their smile, so rarely seen on Duffy’s face. Sometimes Duffy was in the pictures with them, but never Greg. There was only one picture of Greg. He stood with Duffy in front of a Christmas tree. They might have been eight or nine. Slender bodies, pants that were too short for their long legs and T-shirts they didn’t fill out. They were both grinning and holding baseball mitts.

      Duffy wasn’t as heartless as he appeared, which meant neither was Greg. Warmth blossomed in Jessica’s chest.

      “All clear.” Duffy returned and removed his boots. “The house is only eight hundred square feet.” He began pointing. “Kitchen that way. The three doors over there are my bedroom, the bathroom and my home office. You can sleep in my room.”

      “I’ll sleep on the couch.” Jess sat on it, sinking-sinking-sinking, realizing too late she should have taken a bathroom break first. Otherwise, the sleeping-arrangement standoff was going to be short-lived.

      “Yeah. That’s not happening.” The mischievous Duffy had gone, replaced by the resolute man she’d first met. “You’ll take my bed. I’ll change the sheets.”

      “No. Really. I’ll be fine right here.” She grunted attractively—not—as she lifted her legs onto the couch. It proceeded to swallow her in the crack. “I couldn’t get up if you asked me to.” But she would if Baby bounced one more time on her bladder.

      He leaned on the back of the couch and stared down at her with hauntingly familiar, caramel-colored eyes.

      “You were sleeping,” Greg said, leaning on the back of the couch. “I didn’t want to wake you.” She’d reached for him and he’d taken her hand...

      “Did you remember something just now?”

      “Not enough to be meaningful.” Had she looked at Duffy the way she’d looked at Greg? Her body felt as overheated as an oven set to broil. She tried maneuvering into a more upright sitting position so that Duffy could sit, too. The couch almost won the battle. “Greg had a great couch.” Cup holders and everything.

      “Sold it.” Duffy knelt by the fireplace, where there was split wood ready to be lit. Again she noticed his economy of movement, even when he started a fire.

      When Greg moved, there’d been bold statements and unleashed energy. There’d been excitement and noise. Drama and passion.

      Tired and wet, Jess appreciated Duffy’s calm. “So you went through Greg’s stuff and there was nothing about me?”

      “Nope.” He stood,