by Juniper Hart
Malik said he was sick… This is a bad idea, she argued with herself again, but she refused to let her pessimistic side override her desire.
“Arden?” she whispered into the dark.
Only the light of the moon illuminated the spacious bedroom. Arden didn’t stir. The sound of Gena’s shirt against her slender thighs seemed louder than it should have been, and she winced as she pulled back the duvet and slipped into the bed. Arden still did not move, and instinctively, Gena pressed her hands against him to see if he was running a fever. All she could feel was his even breaths against her semi-sweaty palms. She encircled her arm around his wide chest, and a feeling of peace stole over her as she relished the closeness of his body.
Since Malik had come out of Arden’s room earlier that afternoon, informing her that Arden had been fighting off a terrible flu, Gena had wanted to see him. Malik had suggested she allow him to rest a while before going, but as the day progressed, Arden did not show himself.
Gena fought against her inner paranoia that Arden was staging an illness, and something about the concern in both Malik and Shawna’s faces told her that he was not well. Her nurse training yearned to go in and assess what was wrong, but even when Shawn prepared a simple supper of soup and toast for her boss, Gena was still discouraged from visiting him.
“What is going on?” she finally demanded of Malik as the sun slipped away and night fell. “How sick is he?”
Malik glanced at his hands, embarrassed by the bluntness of the question.
“He’s really not doing too well,” he answered evasively. “I am only honoring his request. He doesn’t really want you to see him like that.”
“But I can help!” Gena exploded hotly. “It’s literally what I do for a living!”
Malik shrugged. “If it was up to me, I would tell you to go in, but it’s not what he wants, Gena. I can’t stop you from going if you want.”
Gena held back, weighing his words. There was an underlying tension she could not understand, but she did not question him further. Instead, she waited until the household was asleep and decided to venture into his room.
As she lay in the tranquility of his breathing, Gena realized she had been drowning in a sea of worry all day. Knowing that he was merely asleep encouraged her to breathe regularly. He was okay. He was just one of those macho types who didn’t want anyone to see them when they were sick. Well, he was in for a surprise when he woke up. Gena was not going anywhere.
She noticed he had not touched his soup from earlier in the evening. Gently, Gena propped herself up on her arm as to not disturb Arden and gazed at his face. Cautiously, she stroked a rogue curl from his forehead and smiled to herself.
I don’t know what destiny has in store for us, but until the other shoe drops, I am going to try really hard to enjoy this fleeting time we have together. Sleep now, Arden Morrow. You’ll feel better tomorrow.
16
Arden started awake, suddenly aware he was no longer alone in his room.
He didn’t immediately notice the frail arm looped around his waist, but as the sleep began to clear from his foggy mind, he heard the soft whisper of Gena laying at his side. Consternation filled him, and Arden shoved her extremity from his body.
What is she doing in here? Did we make love and I forgot about it? The confusion washed over him, soon replaced by a deep sense of despair. Another roar of thunder rumbled through the sky, followed by a snippet of lightning, and he realized that was what had shaken him from slumber. Beside him, Gena stirred and stretched like a cat.
“Oh, hey,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
He regarded her with caution. While he had warned Malik not to tell her anything detailed, he could not be certain his agent had honored his request.
“I’m okay,” he said slowly. To his relief, he realized that he was feeling much more human than he had been earlier in the day. His headache and dizziness seemed to have passed, and there was no bile rising dangerously into his throat. Arden wondered if the half-naked Gena Averson in his bed had anything to do with his miraculous recovery. He saw she wore only one of his thin, white, cotton t-shirts. Even in the dark, he could make out the outline of her beautifully toned figure, and he thought of the kiss they had shared.
If we had been intimate, I would have remembered it, he told himself. With her, I would have remembered, side effects be damned.
“What are you doing here, Gena?” he asked quietly, settling back uneasily against the pillow. She turned her eyes upward to stare at his face.
“I was trying to come see you all day yesterday, but Malik said you weren’t really in the mood for visitors. I figured I would wait until you couldn’t fight me on my decision.” She stared imploringly at him, and Arden could see she was ready to leap from the bed running if he said the wrong words. His heart hammering in his chest, he shook his head and smiled wryly.
“I’m surprised you didn’t challenge Malik to a fist fight,” he replied. Gena laughed, but it was drowned out by yet another growl of thunder. The storm was drawing nearer.
“That would be no challenge,” she joked, resting on her elbows. “Have you seen Mal’s nails? There is no way he would risk damaging that manicure. Anyway, he told me you wanted to be left alone. I can relate to that feeling. I can leave now. I honestly just wanted to see how you were feeling.”
Arden returned her look, and the connection between them was nearly palpable. He read all the emotions in her face; concern, nervousness, but most of all, adulation. She is such a strong woman, never letting her guard down. Now, she is finally ready to do it with me, and I will disappoint her worst of all. He watched her and shook his head, extending his arm so she could lay in the crevice between it and his shoulder.
Eagerly, she curled her long frame into him, their bare skin touching one another for the first time. Gena fell into a trance listening to the hypnotic rhythm of his heartbeat as fat droplets of rain began to fall against the rectangular windows of the bedroom. Arden inhaled the sweet scent of her blonde tresses, his fingertips tracing the fine bones of her shoulders lightly.
Without realizing, Gena’s palm, open on Arden’s chest, curled almost imperceivably, but he noticed. He reached across and arched Gena’s chin upward toward him. Their gazes met, and there was no question. They knew they were going to be together, maybe for the last time.
Lightning crackled through the fields as if solidifying their decision. Arden turned to lay Gena onto her back, his lips traveling along the contours of her body while her hands embraced his head. Skillfully he kissed her, Gena’s soft moans reverberating in his ears until he could stand no more, needing to possess her the way she seemed to have possessed him.
Again, their eyes locked in longing for one another. Arden eased into her, Gena’s fingers digging into the smooth skin of his broad back. They melded together, becoming one slick mass of passion, their tempo matching that of the rain pelting ruthlessly against the night sky. Together, their fervor grew until neither one could wait any longer, and they were laying spent in one another’s arms in a quivering pile of arms, legs and devotion.
Arden partially rolled to the side, his thighs still entwined in Gena’s, his forehead beaded in sweat.
“You are beautiful,” he told her sincerely, and Gena knew that he was not talking about her face. The fatalistic side of her stayed silent for once, and she kissed him softly.
“So are you,” she replied, snuggling into him. Her voice sounded heavy, sleepy, and not quite like her, but Arden chalked it up to the headiness of their encounter. He embraced her tightly, and the two lay in silence, listening to the worsening storm until they fell asleep.
“Malik Williams, right?”
Malik cringed at the voice and turned to look at the speaker. It was a plain faced woman with light brown hair and inquisitive green eyes. Do I know her? he asked himself, but nothing about her seemed familiar.
“Maybe,” he replied gruffly, sett
ing down his double scotch on the bar. “And you are?”
“Helena Spitzer.” She extended a hand, and Malik noticed her nails were bitten to the cuticle. He examined her out of the corner of his eye.
“Sorry, honey. I don’t know you,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“I work for Physique,” Helena said, setting herself on the stool beside him.
Malik scowled and signaled the bartender for the bill. He had been in the tavern since it opened, trying to drown his sorrows. The news which Arden had given him had been a bitter pill to swallow. He had never imagined anything could have been happening underneath his client’s cool exterior.
How could he have let it go on for so long? All the signs were there, and I ignored them, more concerned with my bottom line than his health. There has to be something I can do… Malik knew exactly what he should do—call upon Theo and demand that Lane Aldwin heal his friend from his rare but deadly illness. How can the Rumple virus still exist after all these years? It was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago.
“I don’t have time for you, Ms. Spitzer,” he retorted, throwing a few bills on the counter. “And I don’t have time for your magazine.”
“Wait, don’t dismiss me yet, Mr. Williams!” she pleaded. “I know you’re not a big fan of Shari Jespers, but I am not here because of her.”
“Oh, sure, let me just tell you anything you want then!” Malik replied sarcastically. “You know, there was a time when journalistic integrity meant something. I wouldn’t expect you to remember that time, because you’re like twelve, but once, your profession wasn’t about besmirching the name of good men for money and entertainment. Your magazine ruined a girl’s life just for sport.”
Helena hung her head, and Malik was surprised to see shame in her face.
“I know,” she muttered. “And I can’t tell you how little I had to do with that.”
Malik stared at her, an alarm of recognition going off in his head. “Wait a second—you were there. You were outside of Gena Averson’s house when she was in there rotting away! Don’t give me your good cop bullshit!”
He stormed toward the door, but Helena’s next words turned him to ice. “Yes, I was there, but that was before I knew the real story, Malik! I know what’s really happening with Arden Morrow.”
Slowly, he turned to face the junior reporter, his eyes slits as he covered the space between them.
“Keep your damn voice down,” he hissed. “I don’t know what wild goose chase you think you’re about to go off on now, but let Jespers know, as soon as I get back to Los Angeles, she is going to have lawsuits stacked from floor to ceiling in her ivory tower. I am happy to add your name to that suit if you persist on harassing my client.”
Helena reached out and grabbed his arm, her green eyes imploring.
“Please listen to me,” she urged. “Shari doesn’t even know I am here right now. As far as she knows, me and my photographer are camped out in front of Arden’s farmhouse, taking pictures of Gena Averson.”
Malik regarded the woman, his mind turning. If she knows the real truth and she publishes it, the Council will have to get involved. But is that really what we want? Will that save Arden, or kill him faster?
“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked. “Just one drink, and everything we discuss is off the record, okay?”
He shrugged. What was the harm? He could figure out what she knew, and maybe, just maybe, they could solve this mess in a way where Arden came out all right.
“Sure, why not?” he agreed with forced civility. “I have nowhere else to be.
“What are you looking at?” Gena asked, peering over Arden’s shoulder as he scrolled through an internet search. Quickly, he closed the screen and glanced guiltily at her. Her sooty orbs eyed him suspiciously. “Sorry,” she said icily. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”
Abruptly, she spun on her heel, but Arden caught her arm swiftly.
“I was looking for something for you,” he told her, laughing. “You caught me off guard.”
Unsure whether to believe him, she folded her arms across her chest. “What were you looking for?”
“It’s a surprise,” he replied nonchalantly, and she grimaced.
“I hate surprises.” Arden snorted at the response.
“No one hates surprises. That’s like saying you hate ice cream. You can hate certain flavors of ice cream, but no one hates ice cream. No one hates surprises when it’s something they like. People who say they hate surprises have spent their entire lives disappointed.”
Gena was taken aback by the validity of the statement. She tried to remember a time when she had ever been pleasantly surprised, and she could not.
“Lactose intolerant people hate ice cream,” she replied smartly, and Arden howled with laughter. He was wise… for a movie star. She allowed her arms to drop, losing her defensive mannerism. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t mean to be so…”
“Guarded? Suspicious? Fiery?” Arden offered, the smile never leaving his lips. “I happen to find those qualities quite endearing, truly.”
Gena sighed. “All of those things,” she said. “I think I’m still having a hard time with the reality of all this.”
As the words left her lips, she was instantly regretful. What reality? This is still very much a dream. The reality will set in when the press finally disappears. The reality will kick in when Arden shows you the door and you are homeless, jobless, and optionless.
Reading her expression, Arden rose from the desk and drew her toward him, kissing her gently on the forehead.
“It’s been a lot for us to get adjusted to,” he agreed. “That’s why I haven’t flogged you for being so surly all the time.”
Gena guffawed, pulling back so she could look up at his face. “Flogging, huh? I knew there was something weird about you.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” he told her seriously. “There are ceremonial chicken dances under a half moon, Cabbage Patch Doll sacrifices during the fall equinox…”
“Oh, that,” Gena scoffed. “That’s all commonplace. And I was worried for a second.” Arden looked into her face, an expression of tenderness in his eyes.
“Are you worried?” he asked seriously. Without hesitation, Gena shook her head.
“No,” she answered. “I am not even remotely worried.” Not while she was with him. She would be worried later, but she wouldn’t think about that right now.
Again, Arden drew her into an embrace and squeezed her tightly.
“Are you worried?” Gena asked after a moment, recognizing that he was holding her more tightly than he had ever done previously. He did not immediately answer, and a twinge of fear flew through her body. Inexplicably, she felt herself weakening under him, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Arden?” she whispered, trying to draw back, but the word caught in her throat. Suddenly, she thought of Millie Aldwin’s hand, the surge of energy emanating from the old woman’s finger as her own body spasmed.
“Gena, are you all right?” His voice sounded far away, and she could feel herself losing consciousness. “Gena! What’s wrong?”
Gena stared into his eyes, trying to speak, but there were no words to be formed. She could see nothing except love and concern shining back in Arden’s eyes.
“What is happening? Gena, please talk to me,” he begged. When she opened his mouth to respond again, a garbled noise escaped her lips, and she fell to her knees. “GENA!” Arden howled. “Gena, what is it?”
She looked up at him, her eyes rolling back into her head before her body went crashing to the floor, blood pouring from her nostrils.
“Hey, Helena, where the hell are you?” Basil yelled through the phone. Helena cast Malik a warning look, but he didn’t seem to be paying her any mind as he nursed his drink.
“I’m just having a shower. I’ll be back soon,” Helena lied.
“Well, you better hurry up and get back here. An ambulance just showed up at M
orrow’s place.”
“What? Who is being taken out?” she almost screamed. “Is it Morrow?”
Malik looked up at the raised pitch of her tone and stared at her questioningly, but Helena held up a finger to silence him.
“I don’t know yet,” Basil grunted. “But I’m trying to find out.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Helena jumped up from the barstool and gestured at Malik.
“What’s going on?” the agent demanded. “What happened?”
“An ambulance just arrived at Arden’s house,” she told him. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Malik’s face turned to stone, and without answering, he jumped from his barstool and rushed out of the tavern.
17
Shari Jespers was annoyed. If she hadn’t had more faith in her underlings, she would have suspected that they were hiding something from her. Helena had become a ghost, hardly calling for any reason, and that aroused suspicion in Shari’s already cynical mind. Of course, that could mean that the trail had gone cold, just as Helena had claimed. But even if that was the case, Helena would be calling to complain about that. No, she had gone too quiet.
I think it is time I pop by Apple Orchard and see if those two are earning their paycheck. I wouldn’t mind seeing my old friends Malik and Gena again. Never send children in to do a woman’s job, after all. If anyone will get them talking, it will have to be me.
She considered forewarning them of her impending arrival, but she quickly dismissed the thought as soon as it entered her mind. She couldn’t very well catch them in the act of wrongdoing if they knew she was coming.
Shawna and Arden stood in the waiting room of the intensive care unit when Malik flew into Hodgeson Memorial Hospital. Helena had respectfully remained outside, but he had promised to message her as soon as there was word of a prognosis.