Hidden Under Her Heart Read online

  “Listen, I have rules,” Lucas said.

  “Rules smules. This place’s a mess. How’ll you ever get a girlfriend into this pig sty?”

  Lucas removed his helmet and wiped his forehead. “Rule number one. No alcohol. I don’t care if you’re over twenty-one. No drinking, no smoking, no drugs. And rule number two, no overnight friends, men or women.”

  “You didn’t even make your bed. Is that a woman’s thong?”

  “Stay out of my room! That’s the other thing, you get the couch.” Lucas rubbed the back of his sore neck.

  “Wow, you’re a real gentleman. I’m calling Ma to let her know I arrived safely, no thanks to you.”

  “You could have at least called ahead.”

  “Ma don’t call no one. You want to talk to her, you call.” She hung up.

  ~~~

  Lucas hefted his mountain bike up the outside stairway to the landing of his second story apartment. The odor of fried bacon wafted through the open window. He opened the door and pushed his bike into the foyer. Sandra stood in front of the stove with a phone pressed to her ear.

  Lucas walked into the kitchen and turned on the vent. “You know this stuff’s unhealthy?”

  Sandra clapped her hand on the phone. “Ma’s on the line. You wanna talk to her?”

  “In a minute. Let me get cleaned up first.”

  “Nuh uh! You don’t have a minute.” She slapped the phone into Lucas’ palm.

  He walked to the bedroom and shut the door. No sense having Sandra smirk at him getting reamed.

  “Why haven’t you called? You think you’re too good?” His mother’s voice, slightly slurred, screamed through the line.

  “I’ve been getting into my new job and seeing the doctor. And I did call, but Dad said you were taking a beauty rest.” Which meant she was too drunk or hungover to talk.

  “You should have picked up Sandra at the airport. What is this, leaving your baby sister to take a cab?”

  “Baby? She’s a college grad.”

  “She’s still a young lady. You know I don’t agree with this triathlon crap. When are you going to finish law school?”

  “Ma, please. I want to make a name for myself.”

  “You had your chance, and you didn’t make the Olympic team.”

  “I have another shot in three years.” He clenched his fist. His family always thought they knew what was best for him. Even California wasn’t far enough from their meddling and negative attitude.

  “Have you found a good church yet?” Ma’s voice drilled into his ear. “There’s one in Oakland, Morning Star Baptist Church, King James only.”

  “I haven’t had time to look.”

  “No time to look? Boy, you need to get with your own kind. You’re not dating white girls are you?”

  “No, Ma. Not dating anyone.”

  “What are you, a homo?”

  “Ma!”

  “Don’t Ma me. You get your black ass to a black church. I called the pastor already. He’s gonna visit.”

  Lucas threw a pillow across the room. It landed on the thong his triathlete club mates hung around his head at last Saturday’s initiation ride. “I gotta take a shower, just got back from a workout. Then I have to get my allergy shots before work.”

  “Just don’t come home with no Chinese girl. I don’t want no squinty-eyed grandkids.”

  “Bye, Ma.” Lucas ended the call. Ma was into her mid-day aperitif already.

  ~~~

  Lucas entered the clinic with a bouquet of lilies. The last two times he came for shots, he got Vera, the perky Asian nurse with the heart-shaped face. He set the flowers on the counter and rubbed his itchy nose, suppressing a sneeze.

  A middle-aged Indian nurse waved her finger at him. “Can’t you read the signs? No fragrances in the waiting room.”

  “These are for Miss Torres.” Lucas extended his hand. “Is she working today?”

  “I can’t talk about our employees’ schedules.” The nurse guided Lucas across the hallway. “You may leave these with Carmen.”

  The sign on the wall said Bariatrics, and a receptionist spoke Spanish into the phone. She hung up and turned toward Lucas. “Ah, for me again?”

  Lucas looked from the Indian nurse to the receptionist. “Have you seen Miss Torres?”

  The receptionist smiled brightly. “I’m Carmen. These flowers are lovely. I’ll hold them for her.”

  “Can you be sure she gets them? There’s a personal note.” Lucas set the vase down. A flower stem fell behind the counter.

  “I’ll get it.” Carmen scooted her rolling chair away from her desk.

  Lucas peered over the edge to point to the dropped flower. Three displays of dried flowers lay underneath the table with the cards unopened. No wonder she never called or texted him.

  Carmen picked up the stem and tucked it in place, humming a tune and ignoring him. Lucas’ face heated. He’d been wasting his time. He shouldn’t have played that stupid choking trick on her.

  He strode out of the waiting room. Was he not good enough for her? He’d let beauty sway him again—big brown eyes, slender eyebrows, pouty lips and a creamy complexion. So pretty, but white; although he hadn’t gotten the vibe that she’d be biased.

  “Mr. Knight, your appointment?” the Indian nurse called after him.

  He walked faster toward the exit and plowed into a woman coming around the corner. The tray she was carrying dropped onto the carpet, scattering small vials across the hallway.

  “I’m so sorry.” Lucas bent to pick them up and bumped her head with his jaw.

  “Ow!” It was Maryanne Torres. “You made me drop all the allergy shots.”

  “Sorry. I’ll help you.” He handed them to her, and she fitted them in the marked slots.

  “You’re here for your shots?” she asked.

  “I was, but something came up.” He avoided her gaze.

  She finished tucking all the vials in place. “Will you be by later? You can’t miss a week, or you’ll have to start over.”

  “Let me get it.” He picked up the tray. “Are you okay?”

  A smile swept her face. “I was fine until a certain klutz barreled into me.”

  “Sorry.” He followed her through the waiting room.

  “No apologies needed. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll call you after I put these in the refrigerator.” She took the tray from him and went through the staff door, glancing back right before the door closed.

  His heart thumping, Lucas sat at the far side of the clinic and wiped his palms on his jeans. A twenty-eight-year-old man acting like a starstruck adolescent was utterly ridiculous. But Maryanne’s smile was warm, and she appeared friendly.

  She called his name, and he stepped into the clinic. This time, he wore a short-sleeved shirt so he wouldn’t have to pull off his shirt to access his upper arms.

  Maryanne waved him to her station. He wanted to say something witty or funny, but the words wouldn’t come. She hadn’t acknowledged the flowers, and he didn’t want to say anything he’d regret.

  She handed him the peak-flow meter to measure his airflow, and he blew the indicator to the top—twelve hundred.

  “You know, we have some patients who can barely blow three hundred?” She stuck a syringe into the top of a vial and tapped it.

  He presented his right arm. “I don’t know why I have to blow this thing.”

  “You sound like you’re having a bad day.” Her eyebrows creased as if she were concerned.

  “I bumped into you, and—”

  “Oh! And I’m definitely the last nurse you wanted to poke you today.”

  “No, you’re fine.” He held out his arm, and she rubbed it with alcohol before inflicting a sharp stinging burn.

  She dropped the needle into the Sharps container. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling bad about knocking down my vials.”

  “It’s not that. I… uh, brought you flowers, but… I guess you don’t want them.”

  She dabbe
d his arm. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do.”

  “I’m sorry about the stunt I pulled to get your attention. I don’t know what got into me.”

  She injected him again. “You embarrassed me. I’m not some kind of joke. I’m a professional, a nurse.”

  “I respect you.” He pressed a tissue to clot the blood. The adrenaline in his veins stung along with the shot.

  “You do?” Her eyes flashed, so lovely and lethal. “I worked hard to get my degree and earn a spot on this team. My boss was upset about the flowers.”

  “You didn’t even read the notes.”

  “Other arm?”

  He pushed up his sleeve. Vera walked by and beckoned for his attention. “She likes chocolates.”

  Maryanne filled another syringe. “Cats and dogs. It’s a pity, you can’t have any pets.”

  “No time with my training schedule and work.”

  “Work? What do you do?” She injected him, this time more gently.

  “I’m a special education coach. I train kids for the Special Olympics and teach swimming.”

  She set the syringe down. “That’s really something. Do you enjoy working with them?”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t help smiling. “The small victories add up, and they’re always so enthusiastic. When you help them achieve a goal, it’s like you’re on top of Mt. Everest.”

  “I’d like to hear more about what you do.” Her gaze lingered on him while she drew the last shot. “My break’s coming up.”

  It felt like the needle barely pricked him. His confidence rose with his pulse, and he took a deep breath. “I’ll be in the waiting room, Miss Torres.”

  “Maryanne.” Her cheeks dimpled. “Bring me the notes and meet me at the exit.”

  Lucas rushed across the hall to Bariatrics, surprising Carmen who was sniffing the lilies.

  “I found Maryanne,” he announced. “And she wants the cards.”

  Carmen batted her eyelashes. “Trust me, I’m much more fun, and I cook better.”

  Lucas swallowed his words. Judging from her hips, she probably did make a mean tamale. He picked the card off the lilies. “Can I get the notes from the other bouquets?”

  She hefted herself from the chair and bent below the table, tearing the envelopes off the plastic holders. “Here you go. And here’s my card. Good luck with Maryanne. You won’t get far.”

  “Why?”

  Carmen looked left and then right. The only people in the vicinity were patients playing with their electronic gadgets. She bent closer and cupped her hand to one side of her mouth. “Rumor has it she’s sworn off sex. She and Vera, the Filipino nurse, have a bet. First one to fall off the wagon buys the other one a three-day weekend at a spa.”

  No wonder she was so prickly. Lucas peered across the hall at the Allergy clinic. “How long do they plan on keeping it going?”

  “Until one of them scores a marriage proposal, with an engagement ring and a set date. Remember who tipped you off.” She slipped her card into his back pocket and gave him a pat on his behind.

  “There you are.” Maryanne glided through the opening to the Bariatrics waiting area and stopped with one hand propped on her hip.

  “Bye, you two have fun.” Carmen’s voice sing-songed after them.

  Lucas mumbled a goodbye and followed Maryanne to the hallway.

  Her mouth twisted into a half-smile, half-grimace. “Were you flirting with her?”

  “Does it bother you?” He handed her the notes. “You were giving me the cold shoulder.”

  She sashayed in front of him. “You want cold? I’ll treat you to an iced cappuccino.”

  So, she thought she had competition. While she ordered the drinks, he texted an order of Lady Godiva’s to be delivered to the Allergy Clinic. After adding a few balloons to brighten the treat, his day was definitely looking up.

  Chapter 3

  Friday morning, Maryanne stepped out of the shower and popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. The mixture of dark chocolate, marzipan and pistachio hummed through her taste buds. She pinched her tummy, still less than an inch of fat, and tucked Lucas’ note into the box. They’d had a nice conversation, and he’d asked her to go hiking. With all the goodies he supplied, she needed the exercise.

  After pulling on a spaghetti strap, dip-dyed lace cami and a pair of white hipster shorts, she buckled a wide silver-glitter belt and slipped on a pair of flip-flops. She dabbed sunscreen on her face and applied a little bit of makeup. Oh, and one more piece of chocolate.

  She pinned her hair back just as the doorbell rang. He was early, the devil. Maryanne rubbed on a healthy coat of lip-gloss, grabbed her new Marc Jacobs shoulder bag, and opened the door.

  Lucas’ gaze travelled immediately to her feet and her bright white enameled toenails. “Seriously, flip-flops for hiking?”

  “Are you always so rude in the morning? What happened to saying ‘hi, how are you?’”

  “Oh, hi, how are you?”

  “I’m fine.” She whisked past him. “I’m driving.”

  His eyes widened as he gave her the quick down and up. “Great, I can enjoy the scenery.”

  “Keep your eyes on the wildlife, mister.” She hid a smile behind a fake yawn.

  “Yes, ma’am. I sure will.”

  “Hands to yourself.”

  “No problemo!” He mock saluted her.

  She looped her hand around his elbow and led the way to the parking area. “So, how are you this morning?”

  “Not bad. I did a fifty-mile training ride and swam thirty laps.”

  Whew! All she did was get out of bed and snack. They walked to his car, and he retrieved his backpack.

  “How about you?” He licked his lips. “Did you eat too much chocolate?”

  Urgh! Maryanne let go his arm and unlocked her Ford Focus. “If you’re fishing for gratitude, yes, I enjoyed a few pieces. Thanks.”

  Lucas threw his pack in the back. Before getting in, he slid the seat all the way back. “Are all your friends midgets?”

  “Unlike you, we’re genetically challenged, and we don’t have your sense of humor.” She started the ignition. His body heat radiated the short distance between their shoulders. She reached across him to the glove compartment. “Is there an address to put into the GPS?”

  “No, it’s an open space preserve, but I know the way.”

  “What’s it called again?”

  “La Purisima Creek Redwoods.”

  “It’s not too wild, is it?” She pulled onto the street and headed to the freeway.

  “Nope, perfect stroll in the woods. And it won’t be crowded since it’s a weekday.”

  A perfect stroll for him might be a torture march for her. “Did you bring water?”

  He pointed at his backpack. “Always prepared. And a picnic lunch too.”

  Her heart warmed. Wow. So thoughtful. Ever since the multiple apologetic notes, he’d been the perfect gentleman, well, minus the silly flirts he threw every time he opened his mouth. She switched on the radio. “Music? Any preference?”

  “You pick.”

  She turned to 106 KMEL, the Bay Area’s Hip Hop and R&B station.

  “You don’t have to put this on for me.”

  “What?” Maryanne took the carpool lane onto the freeway. “You don’t like?”

  “Just cuz I’m black doesn’t mean… What if I like white music?”

  Gulp. She barely knew him. Was he accusing her of being racist?

  “Rock or top 40. Whatever.”

  He touched her shoulder. “It’s fine. Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I like this music or I wouldn’t play it.”

  “I shouldn’t have jumped on you.”

  “It’s okay.” She kept her attention on the road. “Leave You Alone” by Young Jeezy rapped through the speakers. She’d dated men of every race and nationality. It was silly to think of music as either white or black. She whizzed onto the bridge in the Fastrack lane.
r />   The water in the bay churned with a brownish tint. After crossing the bridge, the road narrowed and wound between vistas of the bright blue Crystal Lake and tree-lined ridges. They stopped at a lonely parking area surrounded by tall trees.

  Maryanne flipped down the vanity mirror and checked her lip gloss. “This place is deserted.”

  “I hope you’re not wearing perfume.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bees.” Lucas pulled on wraparound sunglasses, hiding his soul-stirring green eyes.

  “Oh… I didn’t know.”

  “Don’t worry, I have insect repellant. But it smells nasty.” His nose twitched.

  “Great choice. I have to smell like you? Think I’ll take my chances.” She put on her sunglasses. If she couldn’t see his mischievous eyes, he wouldn’t read her either.

  Lucas took out his backpack, and she locked the car. Warning signs were prominent at the trail head. Mountain lions and what to do when confronted. Tick Danger. Poison oak. Maryanne turned toward Lucas. “Bees are the least of my worries. Are there really mountain lions?”

  “Nothing to it. Stay in back of me. See the sign? Keep children behind you.”

  “I’m not a child.” Maryanne pinched his upper arm.

  “Ow! Could have fooled me.” He ducked. “What I meant was, you gotta look big and mean. Here, I’ll show you.” He waved his backpack in the air and jumped up and down, hollering, “Git the shit outta here.”

  A giggle escaped her throat. “Hmmm… makes sense. Cats get hissy until you stare them down.”

  “I wouldn’t know. Allergies.”

  They stepped onto the trail. The air gave off a mixture of conifer and chaparral scents. “Will the tree pollen bother you?”

  He puffed out his chest and breathed deeply. “Took my Allegra and got my shot this week. Reason I moved here. Less pollen and great coastal breezes. So many places to mountain bike, run, and swim.”

  The trail split into two. A wide path swung toward the left, but Maryanne was drawn to the wooden rail fence with a narrow opening marked with a No Bicycle and No Horses sign. “Which way?”

  “Enter ye in at the strait gate.” Lucas brandished a camera. “Can I take your picture?”