Restore My Heart by Cheryl Norman Page A

down his curiosity to concentrate on Sally. He tugged her pants free. Bracing himself for the sight of a shriveled or scarred leg, he schooled his features to show no reaction. Thick scars ran beneath, beside, and over one knee.
    “Don’t mind Dad. He’s—”
    “Sally, where is the cramp?”
    “Ham-hamstring.” Humiliation filled her eyes while the pain quickened her breath.
    Joe sat on the bed and went to work on the backside of her thigh, kneading the stubbornly tight knot in the muscle. He focused on the massage, while his heart ached for the young woman ashamed for her imperfections, embarrassed by her father’s odd behavior.
    In truth, Sally’s leg muscles surprised him. Instead of the atrophy he’d expected, he found development. Curves. He’d better ignore the curves, he warned himself, especially in the intimacy of her bedroom, where all he’d have to do is peek beneath the crumpled blouse and blazer to see her underwear.
    Stop it, pal
.
    The scars weren’t the hideous marks he’d prepared himself to see. In fact, he figured these scars were several years old as they’d faded to match the pigment of the surrounding flesh. He’d better not think about Sally’s flesh, either. If she thought her leg repulsive, she had another think coming. He had to concentrate on his mission and rein in his lustful thoughts.
    The massage took several minutes to relax the spasm in her hamstring. Sally’s breathing began to deepen, the suffering easing from her face. Joe wondered how much the hurt in her eyes had to do with her father’s shabby treatment.
    “Better?”
    Sally nodded without looking up.
    Standing, Joe lifted a corner of the worn cotton bedspread and covered her bare legs. Then he pulled out the two pillows, arranging them behind her back. “There. Now you can be modest.”
    “Thank you, Joe. You’re very kind.”
    Joe started to reply, “My pleasure,” but reconsidered. He didn’t want to say anything that could be misconstrued and add to Sally’s distress. He eased down onto the bed beside her, facing her. She continued to avert her eyes. “Is your father angry about something?”
    She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “No. He can’t stand to look at my scars. They’re too repulsive.”
    “Repulsive?” One piece of the Sally Clay puzzle locked into place. No wonder Sally’s self-esteem was rock bottom. How different from the way his own family treated his sister after an accident sentenced her to a wheel chair. “Nothing about you is repulsive, Sally.”
    With his thumb and forefinger, he tugged at her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, determined to leave no doubt as to the sincerity of his words. Her chocolate-drop eyes stared at him, filled with questions. A spark of desire soon heated the chocolate into molten liquid. He couldn’t pull himself from their temptation. He searched for the words he needed to reassure her, but his voice stopped working. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as if it were an icy flagpole. His lips parted, hungry for—
    He didn’t remember dipping his head. Suddenly, so close her breath mingled with his, his mouth drifted lower, closing the remaining distance. He needed to taste the sweet, luscious mouth—
    “Telephone, Sally.”
    The gruff intruding voice broke the spell. Sally blinked, as if emerging from a trance. Join the club, Joe thought, bolting from the bed. Sally accepted the cordless telephone from her father, while Joe waved and mouthed “good night.” He made polite noises to her father as he left, none of which he could later recall, then hurried into the night for the walk back to his car.
    Just as he stepped outside, it started to rain.

    “Hello,” Sally murmured, still dazed from whatever had happened, or almost happened, with Joe. She slapped her free hand across her racing heart, willing herself to relax.
    “Sally? Uncle Sal. We missed you tonight.” The familiar noises of the Universal Joint competed in the