“Thanks,” Heather said. “I know that you feel horrible and that Russell isn't the person you fell for, but I want us all to be friends. If you can, maybe you'd go out out with a group of us tonight. It’ll be me, Russell, Andrew, and you. Maybe we could get Charlie and Millicent to go along.”
“I’m sorry, Heather. I’m trying to be happy about this for you, but to me, it feels to me like my boyfriend just died. Seeing his body walking around without someone else’s mind inside of it is a bit too much for me right now.”
Heather didn’t say anything for a moment. Cynthia figured an ‘I told you so’ was in order and braced herself for it.
“I know exactly how you feel,” her friend finally said. “That’s how I’ve been feeling ever since he got home. But you’ve got to get on with your life, just as I did when Russell was gone and Russ was using his body.”
Okay, just what Cynthia didn’t need to be reminded of. Heather was not only richer, thiner, taller, more stacked, and blonder than Cynthia. She was also more compassionate.
“I’m working on getting on with my life,” Cynthia admitted. “I just can’t deal with seeing Russ, I mean Russell, tonight.”
Not with him hanging all over Heather, anyway.
* * *
Russell was already a mile into his morning run before his brain clicked in. What the heck was he doing? He’d run while he’d been stationed in the Middle East, but only because he didn’t have access to modern exercise equipment. He’d never run in Shermann, had never particularly wanted to.
He wheeled around—and almost smacked into Cynthia, who was also running, wearing a skimpy outfit that wasn’t wet, but that didn’t provide much more coverage than the tiny thing she’d put on after she’d gotten out of the Jacuzzi.
His body instantly reacted to the sight of Cynthia’s muscles and curves--which confused him. He wasn’t a teenager. He’d spent the previous evening with the woman voted most beautiful in the entire state and during the four hours they’d spent together he hadn’t gotten stimulated like this. And Heather’s dress had been so sheer and skimpy that even Andrew’s eyes had almost bugged out.
“Hey.”
She looked at him. “Hi, Russell.”
“Which way are you heading?”
She shrugged. “Tell me which way you want to go and I’ll go the other way.”
“No. I want to run with you. If you don’t mind. I’d understand if you were uncomfortable.” It was strange to think of his body going through the motions while his soul had been detached. Although going through the motions might be a bit of an understatement considering the position he’d been in when he’d returned to his normal self.
Cynthia shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m only going five miles today.”
Only five miles? He wondered how many people in Shermann could even walk that distance, let alone keep up a decent pace.
“Lead on, then. I don’t really know my way around the running trails.”
“Yeah? How’d you make it out here, then?”
That was a good question. He shot her a smile. “Instincts, I guess. Or maybe good luck. I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
Oddly, he found that little squeak in her voice to be endearing.
“Considering what we were up to when I regained consciousness, I think a conversation is in order, don’t you?”
She glared at him for a moment, then set off at a pace considerably faster than he’d been jogging earlier.
He extended his stride, catching up with her and running by her side. “I don’t mean to offend you, Cynthia. I’m just trying to figure out what is going on.”
“That’s easy, Russell. While you were away, someone else was using your body. He didn’t remember much about you, but he was a really good guy. We struck up a friendship.”
“But—“
She managed an unconvincing laugh. “Don’t worry, Russell. I’m not going to hold it over your head. We had a good time for a while, but now he’s gone and you’re back to your normal life. He and I knew it was going to happen.”
Which should make him happy. After all, he’d survived an attack that had left several of his buddies dead, had money, and, despite scars that covered much of his body, he had full use of his mental and physical attributes. It was probably a gift that this Russ person had come in, absorbed all the pain from his injuries and from the inevitable rehabilitation that had allowed him to reclaim a normal life.
“I want you to know that if our sex leads to anything, I’ll be responsible. I’ll provide whatever child support you need.”
“Don’t worry about that. Russ and I were careful. We knew you’d be coming back eventually.”
That was good, right? Heather was incredibly understanding, but knowing that his body had fathered a child on another woman couldn’t be good for their relationship, a relationship that just hadn’t seemed quite natural the previous evening. Not that he could blame Heather for that.
“Well, if there’s anything I can do—“
“You could leave me alone, Russell. I’m happy for you that you got your memory back and all that stuff, but for me, it just means that someone I grew to care for deeply just died. So, are we done? If so, maybe you can run some other direction.”
That was a kick in the gut. He stopped as if poleaxed, then chased after her.
“Cynthia?”
“What? I thought I was pretty clear I’m finished with this conversation.”
“Just one question. I can’t find my car. Do you have any idea where it could be?”
* * *
She gave up after two miles and headed for home. Russell had been trying to be nice, willing to clean up any messes that his other self might have created. Unfortunately, the only real mess was her heart, bleeding over everything, and there was nothing Russell could do to fix that. She’d broken it herself and would have to fix it that way too.
Andrew’s Lexus sitting in front of her apartment warned her that something was wrong.
Her boss stretched a long jeans-clad leg from his car door and stood. “That’s a sexy look you’ve got going there.”
“Don’t worry, I’m planning on coming back to work tomorrow. You don’t have to flatter me.”
Andrew’s chuckle was unconvincing. “Guess I’ve spent too much time with Heather lately. She eats up the compliments.”
Probably because Heather had never had to spend any energy wondering whether she was being mocked. Being perfect meant you could just assume that every compliment was the truth.
She sighed. “Whatever, Andrew. Now what are you doing here? I’ve got a lot to get done today.”
“Like sitting around feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I think I’ve got the right to do that.”
He nodded seriously. “You do have the right. But come on kiddo, let me buy you some breakfast. We can commiserate together.”
That sounded serious. She pulled on a set of sweats and jumped into Andrew’s car.
He didn’t make his normal jokes about protecting the leather so she knew he was really hurting.
“What gives?”
“Donuts first.”
He drove the short distance to Ferrill’s, a recently opened donut bakery that appealed to both locals and to long-haul truck drivers who had quickly made Ferrill’s a Mecca.
He bought an assortment of donuts, including two of the huge apple fritters that Cynthia had been addicted to during the days she’d worked on the Shermie, poured a couple of oversized coffees, and plunked down next to her.
“So, do you think there’s any way we can get your friend Russ back?”
She wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d announced that he had decided to run for Pope in the next election.
“Huh?”
“It’s just that things were working pretty well for me. Yesterday while you and Russ were running, Heather and I really sort of bonded. I couldn’t help letting mysel
f start thinking about how things would be if—“ his face turned bright red as he broke off in mid-sentence.
“Oh, Andrew. I know you’ve always had a bit of a crush on Heather. Hell, I think every male in Shermann has had a crush on her at one time or another. But I didn’t know you had it so bad.”
He took a bite of an éclair and licked the gooey custard from his fingers. “I know I’m an idiot. I mean, Heather can have any guy she wants. Why would she be interested in a broken-down newspaper hack?”
“If you want pity, just say so. But don’t give me this bull about being a hack. You’ve kept the Advertiser going when newspapers are shutting down across the country.”
“I barely break even with the thing, and that’s while paying you half of what you’re worth.”
“I’m worth a lot more than twice what you’re paying me.”
Andrew opened his mouth to answer, froze for a moment, then laughed. “All right, enough of the poor pathetic me. It’s just that I needed to tell someone and I couldn’t exactly go blabbing it to Russell, could I? Or Heather.”
“Maybe if you tell Heather how you feel?”
Andrew shook his head firmly. “That would just make me more pathetic. She’s engaged, for one thing. For another, she told me what it was like after she became Miss Missouri.”
“Huh?”
“Every day, hundreds of guys wrote her, called her on her unlisted number, stopped her on the street. Just about every one of them proclaimed his undying love for her. I can’t blame her for getting sick of it, not wanting to hear those words again. Besides, you should have seen her when Russell walked in. Her eyes lit up. They’re perfect for each other, Cynthia. Which means that the two of us get to spend the rest of our lives being miserable.”
* * *
“Oh, Russell. I’m so glad you’re back to being yourself. You were so strange before. Like you didn’t even know your own parents.”
Russell looked around at the home where he’d grown up.
“Thanks, Mom. I can’t imagine what it would have been like not to remember you.”
The huge antebellum family home had been his first business headquarters, the place he’d returned to recuperate after being banged up in football games and where he and Heather had first made love, on her eighteenth birthday, while his parents were conveniently out of town.
“I made you an Old Fashioned, son.”
“Thanks, Dad, you remembered my favorite drink. What are you having, Heather? Martini?”
His beautiful fiancée nodded and he replaced his father at the bar, mixing up the drink super-dry, the way Heather liked it.
He handed her the drink and settled down on the sofa. Sunday dinners were a family tradition, one he’d been bringing Heather to for a decade. She’d always seemed perfectly at home in his family house, just as she was at home everywhere.
“Russell and I were talking about investing in another winery,” Heather said as she took a sip from her martini, then sat on her favorite chair. “We’ve got four breweries here, now that the Brew-Pub is doing so well, but wine adds a bit of class, don’t you think? And there’s no reason why Shermann should miss out on the wine boom that’s happening all over the rest of Missouri.”
He watched in admiration as Heather brought her parents into the conversation, listening intently to what they had to say, encouraging them to share their real feelings.
After one swallow, though, he put his own drink aside. Oddly, it tasted too sweet. He wondered if his father had changed the recipe while he’d been out of town.
“You’ve got yourself a real keeper here, son,” his father murmured to him when the maid announced that dinner was served and they walked into the dining room.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He knew Heather was perfect for him. She’d been a part of him almost since the day they’d met. Together they’d brainstormed the investments that had transformed her department store and the entire town of Shermann. She’d been his sounding board when he’d considered some of his riskier investments and even encouraged him to join the National Guard when he’d expressed an interest in eventually moving into the political realm.
He tried to dismiss his feelings that something was missing from their relationship, had always been missing. He was missing a six-month chunk out of his life, after all. Of course things would take time to bring back to normal.
Over dinner, Raymond had pressed Heather on how investing in another Missouri winery could possibly pay off when there were already dozens of struggling places up and down the river. She answered with such a perfect control over the facts, the statistics, and the market trends that his father ended up offering to go in on the investment with them. In addition to her other talents, this female could have sold snow to a penguin. Heather was the perfect woman and he was lucky to have her.
Both of his parents beamed at him throughout dinner.
After politely refusing his father’s offer of cigars and cognac, the two headed back into town. Russ pulled up in front of Heather’s house and walked her to her front door.
“Want to come up?”
He couldn’t count the number of times Heather had asked him that question. Usually, he’d agreed. Because they’d started dating when Heather was young, they had waited quite a while before their relationship had progressed to sex, but when it had, the fires had burned hot indeed.
The funny thing was, Heather’s question seemed a bit doubtful.
“You don’t sound especially enthusiastic about your offer.”
She patted him on the cheek. “I know it wasn’t you making it with Cynthia, Russell. Still, it was your body and it was only yesterday. I’m trying to deal with that.”
What kind of red-blooded guy would turn down an offer from Heather Cochran? Still, he found himself strangely reluctant. “I understand. Maybe I can take a rain-check. We’ve got the rest of our lives, after all.”
“Maybe that would be better.”
Disappointment warred with … could it be relief? He’d been apart from her for months, hadn’t had sex in all that time—not that he could remember, anyway. What his alternate self had done couldn’t count against him, could it?
“Right, sweetie.” Heather bestowed one of her patented Miss Missouri smiles on him. “See you tomorrow, then. Lunch at the Brew-Pub? There’s a COC meeting afterwards and you need to be there.”
“Sure, why not?”
She brushed a kiss across his lips, opened the door to her home.
He would have to be a blind man not to watch the way her hips moved, swishing the short flirty skirt around perfect thighs. The floodlights in front of her home made the skirt translucent hinting at the pleasures her body would yield to the man who could equal her, partner with her.
Heather, he decided as he restarted his engine and shifted into reverse, was the ultimate woman. That had been why he’d singled her out, pursued her, won her. That hole in his heart could only be the result of the time they’d spent apart. They needed to bond, let their relationship recover from the months he’d been overseas fighting a dirty war in the desert, then the additional months he’d been recuperating from his injuries.
Besides, he owed her. They’d gotten engaged before he went off to war; he’d asked her to wait for him. And Russell Lyons wasn’t the kind of guy who would go back on his commitments, no matter how much it cost him.
Chapter 13
“Hello.” Cynthia glared at her bedside clock-radio. She hadn’t been asleep, but she had smacked the snooze and had planned on savoring the extra ten minutes lying there under her electric blanket before braving the morning cold for her morning run.
“Cynthia? It’s Heather.”
“Hi, Heather. Is there a problem?”
“No problem. I just had something to ask you.”
“Shoot.”
“I want to talk to you in person. I know you run in the morning so I thought I might join you.”
Heather was athletic—you didn’t get
to be Miss Missouri without being fit—but her athleticism centered more on tennis, golf and horseback riding than long-distance running. Still, that was her problem.
“Sure, if you want to.”
“If I’m down at the Katy Trail railhead in twenty minutes, would that be early enough?”
“Make it twenty-five.” She normally didn’t wear makeup for her run but if she was going to face Heather, Cynthia wanted her war paint in order.
The sun was still flirting with the horizon as she jogged down to the railhead. As she watched, the sky began going through the transformations from night to day, stars winking out, the purple glow exploding to pink on the eastern horizon, high-flying clouds picking up tones of gold, red, and black to create an artwork more beautiful than any merely human artist had ever captured.
A few drivers passed her as she headed down toward the river and she waved back at their forefinger-raised-from-the-steering-wheel salutes of greeting. She knew most of these people—had gone to school with them or their children. If her pain over losing Russ drove her away, she would lose this too.
She brutally forced herself to stop thinking that way. She hadn’t brought any tissues and didn’t want to look like a mess for Heather.
Sure enough, Heather looked perfect. She stretched her perfect long legs as she leaned against a bicycle, wearing in sporty yellow tights and a formfitting and abdomen-baring bicycling top. Full breasts threatened to spill out of the plunging neckline.
“Hope you don’t mind that I brought the bike," Heather said. "No way I could keep up with you if I tried to jog. I mean, I saw the way you kicked butt last Saturday.”
“Got my butt kicked is more like it. If I hadn’t fallen through the finish line, Russ would have beaten me.”
“Maybe. But you did beat him. Which is something I’ve never managed.”
Cynthia had to laugh. “Come on, Heather. Surely you don’t expect me to feel sorry for you?”
Heather shook her head. “I’m just feeling a little jealous, that’s all. Come on, let’s cover some distance.”
For the first mile, they traveled in silence.
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