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  “I also button coats, pour juice, and kiss away hurts …” Again she was interrupted by Billy.

  “She’s not married, either.”

  “Billy!” Skye snapped, her cheeks flushed crimson.

  “It happens that way sometimes,” Jordan explained to Billy. “She’s pretty enough but has probably been jilted or hurt. It’ll take time before she’s ready to love again.” It was an open dare for Skye to contradict him.

  Instead she laughed lightly, shrugging off the challenge. “I see that the psychiatrist is in. Thank you for your analysis, Doctor.” The curve of her mouth softened into a smile.

  His gray eyes held her look; he seemed to know she would not be easily provoked.

  Now it was her turn to satisfy her curiosity. Putting down the fork, she asked, “How did you manage to get yourself into this fine mess?”

  “Car accident.” He sounded annoyed, though his anger wasn’t directed at Skye but at himself. “Besides totaling my car, I managed to ruin my first vacation in years.”

  “What happened?” she asked, chilled by the memory of another accident long ago.

  “Lombard Street.” He groaned at his own stupidity. “I’d heard so much about San Francisco’s famous curved street and decided to take it as fast as possible. I didn’t make the last curve.”

  Skye had read an account of the accident in the morning paper. The crazy fool was lucky not to have been killed—or to have killed someone else. Lombard Street, with eight consecutive turns at ninety-degree angles, was difficult to maneuver at the best of times. “Did you enjoy the novelty of reading about yourself this morning?” she asked, hiding her disapproval of such irresponsible behavior.

  Some emotion flickered in his eyes, and for a brief second Skye thought it might be alarm.

  “Are you a teacher, like Skye?” Billy interjected his own curiosity.

  “No. I work for a radio station.”

  Billy’s voice rose eagerly. “Are you a disc jockey?”

  The pause was only momentary. “Among other things,” he remarked absently. “You say there was an accident report in the morning paper?”

  “Would you like a copy? I’m sure there’s an extra paper in the lobby. I can get it if you like.”

  “Please.” He sounded grateful.

  Skye returned a few minutes later with a section of the paper. It was only a short account of the accident, a few sentences that didn’t give his name.

  Jordan seemed to relax and joked, “What does a man have to do in this town to get his name in the paper?”

  Gently Skye placed her hand on his arm. “Has your family been contacted?”

  The slant of Jordan’s mouth became cynical. “As there is only my mother, I can’t see much point in distressing her over a few scratches.”

  A badly broken arm could hardly be considered a scratch. Nonetheless, Skye laughed lightly. “Obviously the poor man has been jilted, Billy. He just hasn’t learned to trust again. Or as Sally would say—you’re either separated, divorced, or just plain unmarriageable.”

  “At thirty-six, I suspect she’s right.” But Jordan didn’t enlighten her about which category he fit into.

  Betty Fisher, Billy’s mother, arrived as Billy finished his meal, and she wheeled her son into the large recreation/visiting room at the end of the hall.

  “You coming, Skye?” Billy asked, eager for her to join the children and play the piano.

  “Not until later; I’ll only be a few minutes,” she promised.

  Giving Jordan the last bit of his dinner, she asked, “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “When do I get dessert?” The inflection of his low voice said he wasn’t asking about the apple pie.

  “Soon,” she lied. “I’ll take your tray to the cart and be right back.”

  Skye lingered outside the room for several seconds gathering her courage. The I ATE THE WHOLE THING button was clenched tightly in the palm of her hand. Unsteady fingers looped a long strand of honey-blond hair behind her ear. Jordan Kiley wasn’t going to find humor in her little deception.

  His eyes probed her as she entered, but she purposely avoided eye contact with him.

  “I didn’t think you would come back.” His voice was cool.

  “Of course I was coming back. I always keep my promises,” she said, finding it difficult to resume her charade. “Now, close your eyes,” she whispered seductively, and bent over him.

  He complied, surrounding her lithe form with a bandaged arm.

  For a fleeting second Skye considered kissing him, but quickly changed her mind. Instead she attached the button to his hospital gown and easily slipped from his arm.

  Jordan caught his breath and lunged for her. The attempt to catch her was ludicrous, and Skye stood only inches from his reach, her blue eyes triumphant. A certain pride at having outwitted him prompted her mouth to curve into an irritating Mona Lisa smile.

  Jordan grinned suddenly; all signs of anger were quickly erased from his features. “Clever trick, Pollyanna, but have no doubts I will collect what is due me.”

  Skye realized he was the type of man who ultimately got what he wanted. His words were more of a promise than a threat. Disguising the effect of his statement, she put on a smiling façade and made busywork of fastening the button of her uniform while gaining control of her racing heartbeat. “We’ll see about that,” she said with far more confidence than she felt.

  Gradually the tension began to fade, and she relaxed. Combing her fingers through her long hair, she said, “Good-bye, Simon Legree.”

  The sound of his low laugh followed her into the corridor.

  She had escaped Jordan Kiley this time, but she realized she wouldn’t be so fortunate a second time.

  Billy and his mother, along with the other children and their visitors, were waiting for Skye when she entered the recreation room. An upright mahogany piano rested against the outside wall, and when she sat on the padded bench, the happy chatter grew silent.

  Skye’s slim fingers flew across the ivory keys in a light, catchy tune, and soon the small audience was clapping in time to the happy melody. The uplifting beat of the music eased some of the worry etched so clearly on the faces of the children and their families. It was for this reason Skye came week after week, year after year. If she could help others forget their own unhappiness, even for a short while, then her time was well spent.

  Although everyone enjoyed the piano playing, it was the songs Skye composed that the children loved the best. The clever descriptions of make-believe dragons, castles, and children’s dreams brought smiles and giggles to cherubic faces.

  Skye’s closing number was a soft lullaby she had composed using Psalm 62:

  My soul finds rest in God alone;

  my salvation comes from Him.

  He alone is my rock and salvation;

  He is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

  Find rest, O my soul, in God alone;

  my hope comes from Him.

  Rich and melodious, her voice rang clear and true through the passageway, and as she hummed the final notes several children yawned, ready for sleep. Hoping to place homesick patients in a familiar family routine, the hospital encouraged parents to put their children to bed before leaving.

  As Betty wheeled Billy toward his room she asked Skye hopefully, “Do you have time for a cup of coffee tonight?” Alone and young, Betty Fisher needed someone as a sounding board for her worries over Billy’s uncertain future.

  “I always have time for you, Betty,” Skye assured the young mother.

  “Are you coming tomorrow, Skye?” Billy asked the same question after every visit, as if he were afraid she would disappear someday, just as his father had.

  “No, Sprout, but I’ll be here Thursday,” she whispered, hoping not to wake Jordan. The white curtain had been replaced, and the nurse had put a finger to her lips when they had entered the room, indicating that the man was asleep. Skye had given an unconscious sigh of relief.r />
  Just as Betty and Skye were ready to kiss Billy good night, Sally stuck her head in the door. “Do you need a ride home tonight, Skye?”

  “Not tonight, thanks, Sally.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Good night, Sally.” She smiled a friendly farewell. “Sleep tight, Sprout,” she whispered tenderly, and lovingly kissed his brow.

  Halfway across the darkened room a clear male voice taunted, “Good night, Pollyanna.”

  Chapter Two

  School didn’t go well the next day. Skye had difficulty concentrating on her teaching and several times found her troubled thoughts drifting to Jordan Kiley. In the light of the new day she felt no sense of triumph over her deception or in having bested him, only a guilty uneasiness. Not that she was worried he would collect his “dessert,” as he had threatened. Sally had mentioned that Jordan was being transferred to another ward as soon as possible and would probably be discharged by Friday. There was little likelihood she would ever see him again. She couldn’t understand why this restless feeling persisted.

  Skye welcomed three thirty and the dismissal of her kindergartners. Her students had picked up on her mood as well. It didn’t help that there were only a few days left before spring break. Anticipating the vacation, the five-year-olds were antsy and hyperactive.

  It was after four when she finally left the school for home. Her apartment, a rare find in the Marina district, had large bay windows that presented a sweeping panorama of the water. Healthy, abundant plants hung in the window, flourishing under her tender care and in the warmth of the sun. It was a homey apartment, decorated with cushioned bamboo furniture, and possessed the appeal of simplicity.

  The lock on her front door clicked loudly as she turned the key; then she paused momentarily to replace the key inside her purse.

  “Howdy, neighbor.” The apartment door across the hall opened at the sound.

  “Hello, John.” She gave him a deliberate, casual smile. “Nice day, isn’t it?” She didn’t wait for his reply before pushing open her door.

  “No need to rush away. I’ve been wanting to talk to you. We’re neighbors; we should get to know each other better.”

  “Not today,” Skye offered, apologetically but firmly. The last thing she wanted was to become trapped in John Dirkson’s apartment for the rest of the afternoon. Strikingly handsome and charming, John didn’t lack female companionship, but Skye found his sleek good looks and huge ego unattractive. Unfortunately, he refused to accept her rebuffs as sincere; her refusal to become involved made her a novelty.

  “It’s not going to work, you know,” John said, affecting disinterest.

  “What’s not going to work?”

  He hooked his thumb lazily in the belt loop of his designer jeans and leaned against the open door frame. “This playing hard to get.”

  “I’m so pleased to hear it.” She adopted a lighthearted, bright smile. “I was worried for a minute.”

  “I’ll get you yet,” he added confidently, not in the least discouraged by her attitude.

  “No, you won’t,” she said quickly, then stepped inside her apartment and firmly closed the door.

  She placed her purse and mail on the entryway table and hung her hooded raincoat in the closet. After slipping off her shoes, she walked barefooted into the tiny kitchen to put on water to boil for tea. Obeying habit, she flipped the switch on the radio in her bedroom while changing clothes. The air was crisp and chilly, and she chose a winter outfit that had been a birthday gift from her brother. The red plaid pants slipped easily over her slim hips, and the matching turtleneck sweater made a striking contrast to her golden hair.

  A slow and soothing romantic ballad filled the room. Unbidden, the music conjured up a mental image of Jordan’s taunting smile, and Skye bit into her lower lip, nibbling on it unconsciously.

  “Go away,” she said aloud, and irritably turned off the radio.

  A few minutes later she stood before the bathroom mirror, pulling the pins from her hair.

  “Rapunzel … Rapunzel … let down your hair.” She laughed, and wondered at her strange mood. The thick curls shimmered down like liquid gold upon her shoulders and back. Its length was a nuisance; a shorter style would have been far more practical, but she couldn’t summon the courage to have it cut. Glen had always loved her long, thick hair, and in a way its length was a symbolic memory of his love. She brushed the curls vigorously until they crackled with electricity. On impulse she left her hair down, the length curving attractively about her shoulders. In reality she was much too tall to be wearing it up all the time, but she had long ago quit worrying about her height. Accustomed to seeing her hair away from her face, she did an automatic double take, surprised at how good she looked, when she happened to glance in the mirror on her way out the door.

  The teapot was whistling, and soon the aroma of cinnamon and spice perfumed the air. The mail contained a newsy letter from her mother in Florida, and Skye sat with her cup of tea, propping her feet on the large wicker chest that served as a coffee table, while immersing herself in the letter.

  She needed this time to relax and unwind from her day but instead found herself fidgety and restless. Perhaps she should do some shopping and even splurge and have a meal out before attending the Wednesday-evening church service and choir practice.

  The idea proved to be a good one. She bought herself a new pair of shoes, plain but comfortable ones she could wear to school. Impulsively she stopped in a toy store to browse around. Billy had been so unselfish in his choice of a prize that she picked out a small electronic game he was sure to enjoy. Since it was on sale, it was easy to rationalize the expense.

  Pleased with her purchases, Skye decided to deliver Billy’s gift to him instead of waiting until the following evening. And while she was at the hospital maybe Sally would join her for a light meal in the cafeteria.

  As usual pediatrics was a hub of activity. Nurses and the other staff members moved with purpose. Skye stopped by the nurses’ station to leave a message for Sally, then lightheartedly headed for Billy’s room.

  Entering the room, she froze midstep. Billy’s bed was empty, but Jordan Kiley was very much present. The force of his personality filled the room, compelling and totally male. He viewed her shock with a half smile that touched the corners of his mouth.

  Suddenly the smile left his eyes, and he grimaced as his rugged face twisted with pain. Her surprise quickly receded into concern, and she haphazardly deposited her packages on Billy’s empty bed before rushing to Jordan’s side.

  “What’s the matter? Should I get Sally?” Alarm coated her voice.

  Before she could protest, she found herself roughly jerked against the side of the bed. The strength of his right arm was unbelievable, and the unyielding muscles of his upper arm flexed as he held her firmly in check. A slow, satisfied grin spread evenly across his face.

  Panic erupted within Skye but it was useless to struggle against his superior strength. Frantically she whispered, “Please, don’t.”

  Jordan studied the terror in her eyes, and gradually his merciless grip relaxed, but his bandaged hand remained around her waist.

  “This is just to let you know I can claim what is mine anytime I want. No more games, Pollyanna.”

  Numbly, Skye nodded; her voice seemed to be locked in her throat, and she was breathing unevenly.

  His arm fell, freeing her. “You’re really frightened, aren’t you? Has it been so long since a man kissed you that you tremble at the possibility?” His voice was smooth and mocking.

  “Of course not,” she denied stiffly, backing away from him. Her hands were still shaking when she bumped against the rail of Billy’s bed. “I brought this for Billy,” she said, her hands groping for the smaller package. “Would you see that he gets it?” she asked in what she hoped sounded like a normal voice.

  Jordan ignored her request, his eyes studying her astutely. “You’ve been badly hurt, haven’t you?” His w
ords were soft with discernment. “How long have you managed to hide behind that easy laugh and witty personality?”

  Despite herself Skye’s head snapped up, and what color remained quickly drained from her face. His perceptions were unnerving. Automatically she swallowed back a denial; as for her quick wit, where was it when she needed it so desperately?

  “I should have remembered Billy wouldn’t be here,” she said, ignoring his question. It was a struggle to keep her voice even. “Please tell him I’ll be back later.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Jordan interjected quickly. “I’m not letting you go now, not when I pulled every string I could to remain on this floor until I got the chance to see you again.”

  His disclosure halted Skye’s flight from the room. “You wanted to see me again?” she asked incredulously. Slowly a smile meandered across her face as she realized what he was saying. “Ah, you just wanted to collect your dessert.”

  He answered with a lazy grin. “True, but thinking of a way to even the score helped pass the long day.” He shifted slightly and grimaced with a rush of pain. “Darn this arm,” he swore harshly.

  Again Skye found his discomfort greatly affecting her, but she forced herself to stay where she was. “That trick won’t work a second time,” she said, although she realized his pain was genuine.

  “Pity,” he murmured with a forced smile.

  “Isn’t there something I can do?”

  “No, it’ll pass in a moment.” His breathing was hard and labored.

  “Please,” she whispered, her gaze resting on his strong face. “Let me do something to help.” The compassion he evoked in her was almost physical. “I’ll get Sally.”

  “No,” he shouted.

  His anger shocked her, and she stepped back as if burned.

  Jordan made a savage gesture. “I didn’t mean to snap your head off, but the nurses can do nothing.” He relaxed against the pillow, the pain easing. “The doctors placed a pin in my arm, and every now and then a pain shoots through it like fire.” His eyes darkened defiantly. “But I refuse to be constantly drugged.”