Forever A Hero. Linda Miller Lael

the doorway.

      Kelly’s heartbeat quickened when she saw Mace standing there, looking fabulous to the infinite power in an ordinary cotton shirt, jeans and boots. His dark blond hair was still damp from a recent shower, and a fashionable stubble accented his strong chin. Like Chief Hogan, he held a Stetson hat in one hand.

      Dr. Draper turned toward him. “Mace Carson,” she said wryly. “What a surprise.”

      He smiled guilelessly. “Just being neighborly,” he said. “I figured the lady would need a ride to her hotel.”

      The doctor looked back at Kelly. “Does that arrangement work for you?” she asked.

      Kelly blushed like a teenager. “Yes,” she answered.

      Dr. Draper nodded. “All right, then,” she said. “I’ll sign you out, but you’ll need to stop by the business office before you leave.”

      Mace saluted the doctor as she approached, and she gave him a shoulder bump as she passed, which made him laugh.

      A brief silence fell.

      Kelly broke it a minute or so later. “I have to get dressed,” she said, and immediately felt lame for stating the obvious.

      “I’ll be at the nurses’ station.” Mace started to turn away, then turned back, a question dancing in his eyes. “You need any help?”

      “No,” Kelly said too quickly.

      Mace grinned. “I’m sure one of the nurses would be glad to lend a hand.”

      “Go away,” Kelly snapped, her cheeks burning again.

      The grin broadened. “Give me a shout when you’re ready,” he said.

      And then he was gone.

      Half an hour later, after dealing with her insurance company online, she was riding in Mace Carson’s truck again, headed for the resort.

      Kelly still didn’t have her purse—which contained her phone—or her laptop, and the clothes she’d packed so carefully for the trip had been reduced to the particle level. After a moment’s mourning for her Armani pantsuit, which had set her back a month’s salary, she shifted her focus to what really mattered. She was alive and in one piece.

      When Mace spoke, he caught her off guard. “You were Kelly Allbright, not Kelly Wright, when I knew you,” he said without looking her way.

      “You remembered,” she said quietly.

      “Yeah,” Mace responded. “I didn’t make the connection until I checked my schedule this morning and saw that my assistant had penciled you in—without mentioning it to me. Wanda is part-time, and she tends to be forgetful. Anyway, when I realized we had an appointment, I went online for some background info.”

      Kelly smiled, somewhat dreamily. She was okay, she really was, but she was still drifting from last night’s drugs. There’d been a series of tests, she thought, but she couldn’t be sure. “Sorry I missed the meeting,” she said.

      “No problem. I’m pretty flexible.”

      “Impressive, for a superhero.”

      “I’m just a man, Kelly. I did what anybody else would do, ten years ago on campus, and last night.”

      Memories of her near-rape, a decade before, circled Kelly like wolves. She’d been walking back to her dorm after a night class when, out of nowhere, she was attacked. She’d screamed and struggled, certain she was going to die. And then, suddenly, Mace was there.

      He’d hauled her assailant off her, flung him aside. Called the police while keeping one booted foot on the guy’s throat.

      She’d scooted backward, a low, continuous moan shredding her throat.

      “It’s over,” Mace had said. “You’re safe now.”

      You’re safe now.

      “Did I ever thank you?” Kelly asked, as they made the turn onto the road leading to the resort.

      “About ten thousand times,” Mace said, not unkindly.

      “I wasn’t sure. I was so scared that night.”

      “I know,” he told her sadly.

      “You disappeared.”

      “I graduated,” Mace stated. “Went to Napa to work with my grandfather. He owns a vineyard there.”

      She nodded. “Yeah, you told me about your family back then. When you were in LA for the trial.” She paused. “Did you ever wonder what became of me? Afterward, I mean?”

      He didn’t reply, merely shrugged.

      “I was married for a while,” Kelly told him, aware that her end of the conversation was a bit disjointed. “After I graduated, I mean. It didn’t work out.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that.” The resort came into view, sprawling and elegant.

      “Did you get married?”

      “No,” Mace answered.

      “Why not?”

      “I was busy,” he said.

      “I appreciate what you did, Mace. Both times.”

      “I know about a hundred guys who would have done the same thing.”

      “I don’t,” Kelly told him. “Thank you again.”

      “You’re welcome,” he said gravely.

      They’d reached the portico in front of the resort. Mace brought the truck to a stop, and an attendant trotted over, smiling.

      “Welcome,” he said.

      “Thanks,” Kelly responded, strangely dazed.

      “Ms. Wright has a reservation,” Mace explained to the young man.

      The attendant nodded. “Yes, Mr. Carson,” he said.

      “Mr. Carson?” Mace shot back, softening his brisk tone with a grin. “Chill, Jason. I’ve known you since you were in diapers, remember?”

      Jason smiled. “I remember,” he confirmed. “But we’re supposed to call everybody either ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am,’ no matter who they are. It’s in the manual.”

      Mace shook his head as if disgusted, but Kelly noticed the slight twitch at one corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he said, opening his door. “I’ll be out of here as soon as the lady’s settled in. Mind if I leave the truck with you for a few minutes?”

      “No, sir,” Jason said. “I’ll keep an eye on your ride until you get back.” As he spoke, he opened Kelly’s door, helping her out.

      “I can take it from here,” she said.

      Mace didn’t listen.

      Neither did Jason.

      She allowed Mace to escort her inside.

      Her purse and laptop were waiting for her at the main desk.

      “Ms. Wright,” the receptionist said, tapping away at her computer keyboard. “Here you are. We expected you last night.”

      Kelly reached for her damp, mud-streaked purse, rummaged for her wallet, extracted her company credit card. “Something came up,” she said.

      Oddly, the clerk, a college-aged blonde, glanced questioningly at Mace before accepting the card.

      “Just give the lady a room,” he said.

      Kelly was confused, but she didn’t ask any questions and continued to hold out her credit card.

      The clerk accepted it, swiped, handed it back. “How many key cards would you like?” she asked Kelly, with another look at Mace.

      Kelly