Sweet Talk. Jackie Merritt
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at the monitor Reed couldn’t seem to tug his eyes away from. “Did you spot something?”
“Just someone I know.” Reed pulled himself together. “See you later, Homer.” He hurried out and went to his office. But instead of sitting at his desk and doing something productive, he paced the floor and thought about Val. He’d felt so damn good not ten minutes ago. Now he ached all over, and he resented losing his fabulous mood over something so mundane as Valerie Fairchild doing her weekly grocery shopping.
By damn, he had every right to walk any aisle in the place! If he just happened to run into her—it had happened before—what could she do but be nice?
Groaning over Valerie’s polished ability to be nice and ice-cold at the same time, Reed told himself to forget it. To forget her! Why couldn’t he? He’d known women who were more beautiful, possibly women with more sex appeal, but she was the one he couldn’t get out of his mind.
Leaving his office to get himself a cup of coffee at the snack bar down the hall, he passed the surveillance room and couldn’t resist checking the monitors again to see where Val was now. Homer looked at him curiously, but Reed ignored him and searched each monitor screen until he found her. She was in the canned goods aisle, and she was… Bending over, he peered more closely at the image. What was she doing? It looked as if she was leaning against the shelves, but why would…
It hit Reed like a ton of bricks. Running from the room, he took the stairs two at a time, then rushed through the store like a madman. Everyone in town knew that Dr. Fairchild was recovering from breast cancer, and obviously she wasn’t fully recovered yet or she wouldn’t be propped against a damn shelf!
Reed hit the aisle running, saw Val still leaning there with her eyes shut, and hurried toward her. Bending low enough to anchor his left arm behind her knees, he scooped her in the air.
Val was so startled she just hung on while Reed Kingsley hurriedly strode to the front of the store, leaving her cart of groceries behind. Everyone they passed stopped dead in their tracks to stare, and her fury sprouted and grew. She was so furious by the time they went through the large automatic doors and outside that she could have cheerfully murdered the odious jerk intent on saving her from…from what? My God, she thought, with tears burning her eyes, this incident would be the talk of the town in five minutes!
“Put me down,” she said in a lethally low and hoarse voice, afraid that if she spoke with greater volume she would screech loud enough to wake the dead in the Rumor cemetery. She could feel her shoulder bag bumping against his leg as he walked, and wished it were sharp and pointed and beating a hole in his thigh. Maybe it was a cruel thought, but she had never been so embarrassed in her life.
“In a second,” Reed said. “You need some fresh air.” He kept going, heading for Val’s bright blue SUV. He recognized most of the vehicles around town, so it was no great feat to pick out Val’s in the nearly full parking lot.
People who were transferring purchases from carts to their vehicles stopped to study the sight of Reed Kingsley carrying Valerie Fairchild through the organized maze of parked cars and trucks.
While they gawked, Val seriously—hysterically—considered slapping Reed Kingsley silly, which was exactly what he deserved. But that would only give friends, neighbors and complete strangers something else to stare at. She wasn’t helpless; she knew she could wriggle and squirm and force him to put her down. But that would create another scene, and some of these shoppers were pet owners who brought their cats and dogs to the Animal Hospital. They knew her as the animal doc. Years from now they would still think of her in this debasing situation whenever they brought Snookums or Buffy or Killer in for a shot or some other procedure. She would never live this down—not ever!
Her only usable weapon was her voice and she went for it. “I wish I could think of some way to hate you more than I do at this moment,” she said in the same deadly tone she’d used before.
Reed was so shocked he nearly dropped her. He stopped walking and let her feet slide to the pavement. “I…I sure as hell didn’t do this to make you hate me,” he mumbled.
She wasn’t quite steady on her feet and reached out to the closest car, grabbing it for support. She had enough strength to glare into this wannabe rescuer’s eyes, though, with a look in her own that could have curdled milk. “What in hell did you think was going on in there?” she spat.
“You looked faint. You’re still pale.”
“I am not pale, and I wasn’t going to faint. How dare you humiliate me in front of the whole town? What do you do—imagine yourself as some kind of knight in shining armor, running around saving damsels in distress? You should be locked up!”
Reed was so shaken by her fury he could barely think at all, let alone come up with a reply. He’d honestly thought she needed help; obviously he’d made a huge mistake. He felt sick about it.
“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I really thought—”
“Go to hell!” She let go of the strange car and walked the short distance to her own.
“Wait! What about your groceries?” Reed called.
“Put everything back on the shelf or shove them where the sun don’t shine! I wouldn’t go back in there if the damn stuff was free!” Val got behind the wheel of her SUV, started the engine and backed out of her parking space. Her eyes were burning like fire, but that Kingsley jerk was still watching her and she would rather drown in her own salty tears than let him see her wiping them away.
Reed realized the enormity of his act when he returned to the store and found that everyone he met asked him what had happened. The incident would be the talk of the town for days, and he had smeared Val’s reputation by assuming something that wasn’t true. She hadn’t been feeling faint, she’d coldly told him; she’d been…what? She’d denied without explaining, but what would cause a woman to lean against shelving in a store?
Mumbling evasive answers to the curious, Reed hurried toward the stairs to the second floor. But when he remembered Val’s cart, he made a U-turn. It was right where she had left it. Right where he had caused her to leave it.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. The basket was loaded with meat, vegetables, dairy products, fruit and bakery goods. She’d done a lot of shopping, probably filling a weekly grocery list. And there it all sat. Would she calm down and come back for it?
“She won’t have to,” he said under his breath, pushing the cart toward the front of the store. At the first available checkout stand, he unloaded the pile of groceries and told the clerk to put the cost on his account, bag it and have it delivered to his office. He wasn’t sure what to do with it but he figured he’d think of something.
He did. When a bag boy—Joe Harte, who was juggling high school classes and his job, trying to save money for college—pushed a cart with five stuffed bags of food into his office about fifteen minutes later, Reed had a slip of paper ready. “Hi, Joe. You have a car, don’t you?” he asked the young man.
“I have a pickup.”
“That’ll do. I’d like this order delivered to this address.” He handed over the piece of paper. “Tell the supervisor you’re doing me a favor so you don’t get hassled about your absence, all right?”
“I’ll take care of it, Mr. Kingsley.” Joe left with the cart, heading for the elevator. Reed left, too, but he used the stairs, as he usually did.
Once in his vehicle he drove to town and straight to Jilly’s Lilies. Jilly, the owner and his cousin Jeff’s wife, wasn’t in, but her teenaged assistant, Blake Cameron was there. After a hello and how are you, Reed ordered flowers and wrote a message on a card, which he put in an envelope. Blake promised delivery within two hours, and Reed left.
His day was ruined, and he neither returned to MonMart nor stopped at the volunteer fire station. Instead he drove home, went inside, threw himself on the couch, stared at the vaulted ceiling overhead and tortured himself with the memory of Val saying