About Face

by Fern Michaels

  Blake signed the credit card receipt and realized he’d just had his first disagreement with the woman he loved.

  Loved.

  There, he’d said it. He didn’t know how, but his feelings for Sweetwater’s so-called crazy woman had intensified to a depth he’d never imagined possible. And in such a short time.

  He questioned his feelings, wondering if they were mixed up with pity. Somehow he knew Casey Edwards wouldn’t want pity from him or anyone else, no matter what her past life had dealt her.

  And that reminded him of why he’d traveled to Savannah in the first place.

  Dr. Dewitt.

  At nine-fifteen Blake tapped on her door. A tear-streaked Casey opened the door and left him standing in the long hall. He stepped inside, not wanting to be the cause of another bout of speculation with the inn’s guests.

  He looked at the king-size bed in the middle of the room. The sheets were rumpled, and the pillows were tossed on the floor.

  She must’ve had to fight her way out of the nightmare. Or, he mused, she’d been dreaming of the wild time she’d had in his arms. He liked the second scene better.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, coming out of the bathroom, blotting her eyes with a washcloth.

  She saw the direction his gaze traveled, and she gave a brief smile. “I’m a fighter in bed.”

  Her face reddened. She looked from him to the bed. “The dream. I toss and turn when I have it.”

  “Casey.”

  She looked at him with those jade green eyes and his heart flip-flopped. She had good cause to be upset and embarrassed, and all he could think of was how he was going to get her into bed.

  “I believe you. About Robert Bentley.”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I’m absolutely sure he was there. I’ve done nothing but think about him since I woke up. I recall him being at our house a lot. I guess that’s a good sign, huh? This should make Dr. Dewitt’s work easier.” She went over to the vanity and applied a touch of powder to her red nose and reapplied her mascara.

  “You really do believe me?” she asked as she put her cosmetics away.

  “Yes. Now let’s forget about all this. We’ll have the rest of the day to think about it. Right now”—he led her to the rumpled bed—“I want to hold you.”

  Blake sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Casey onto his lap. She fit; like a fork and spoon their bodies meshed together. He knew they’d fit well in other places, too.

  With her small round rump residing on his crotch, it only took seconds for him to get hard. He tried to move so she couldn’t feel him, but it was too late.

  She adjusted herself right on top of his groin and he had to dig deep for control. His schoolboy days were over, he reminded himself as he gently removed Casey from his lap and laid her back on the bed.

  “Blake.”

  He silenced her with a kiss. He felt her relax into the plump bedding. He wanted nothing more than to ease himself on top of her. He leaned over her, not daring to touch her with his body. He kissed her closed eyes, her nose, and with his tongue he traced the fullness of her lips.

  She sighed and opened her mouth. Warm and hot, their kiss deepened, and Blake wished they didn’t have to leave.

  He pulled away from her and leaned against the bedpost.

  Casey managed to look sexy as hell and innocent all at the same time. Women would pay good money to bottle that look, he thought. And what made her even more sexy in his eyes was the knowledge that she had no idea how provocative she looked.

  She sat up, adjusting her blouse and smiled at him. “I guess we should go, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire, “Give me a minute.”

  She looked in the direction of his downcast gaze, and her eyes quickly darted back to his face. “Oh, sure. I’ll go . . . comb my hair.”

  “Dr. Dewitt’s office is only five minutes away, take your time.” What he really wanted to say was, No matter how long you’re in there, I’m still going to want you when you come out.

  “Sure.” He’d acted like a horny teenager. He smiled to himself because something told him she enjoyed his touch as much as he enjoyed hers.

  “Ready?” Her hair was brushed and her blouse tucked in properly. One would never know she’d just left his arms.

  “Let’s do it.” This time, Blake felt his face redden with embarrassment.

  Casey took his hand and led him out of her room. “We might someday.”

  “Open mouth, insert foot. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately, at least when I’m with you.”

  “You don’t have to be so careful, Blake. Please, don’t think you have to watch every word you say. I’m an adult. I think I’m relatively normal, so please, just be yourself.”

  “You’re right,” he said, and signed the credit card slip. He had a few words with the inn’s manager to make arrangements to have the luggage brought down later, then they were off.

  Blake parked two blocks away from Dr. Dewitt’s office, one block north of River Street on East Bay.

  Casey felt her heart hammer as they made their way inside. Blake took her hand and squeezed, his silent way of telling her he’d be there, no matter what. Or that’s what she wanted to believe. That morning after their near lovemaking, Casey examined her feelings for this man who made her feel almost normal. More important, he made her feel like a woman. Not an experiment, not a crazed lunatic. He made her feel like she was Casey as Casey would’ve been had she been before.

  A discreetly placed sign told them Dr. Dewitt’s office was on the third floor. As they stepped into the elevator, Casey prayed that this new doctor could help her. Now that she had Blake, she really had a reason to live.

  Jason Dewitt looked at the Rolex on his wrist for the tenth time. Nine-fifty. In ten minutes he could possibly be on the road to losing his medical license.

  Last night had gone off as expected. At eight o’clock he answered the door and felt a box being shoved in his hands. It all happened in less than a minute, and he never had a chance to identify the person. It didn’t really matter, he thought as he crossed to the window again. He’d lain awake all night, hoping that by some sheer stroke of luck the patient wouldn’t keep her appointment. It happened a lot. People thought they were ready to confront their pasts and when the time came, they often backed out. He sincerely hoped that’s what would happen.

  The stash of LSD remained in his pocket, just in case. He hadn’t yet figured out how he would explain the need for drugs. Regression therapy, at least the kind he practiced, didn’t require medication. He’d worry about that if and when.

  He heard the click of the door opening in the outer office and knew his patient had arrived. Suddenly filled with rage, Jason made himself a promise. He’d find Bentley, and when he did, he’d kill him. It would be simple, really. He had access to all sorts of heart-stopping drugs.

  Yes, that’s what he would do. With that in mind he seated himself behind his desk and put the bogus glasses on.

  “Doctor?” Jo Ella’s voice crackled from the box on his desk. “Ms. Edwards is here for her appointment.”

  He cleared his voice before replying, “Please ask her to come in.”

  Ms. Edwards didn’t look anything like he’d expected. A picture of health, she didn’t look troubled in any way, though looks could be deceiving, as he well knew. And the man with her. No one told him she’d be bringing a guest. He’d handle this.

  He stood to shake Casey’s hand, then that of her companion. “Please, sit down.” He motioned to the two Queen Anne chairs across from him.

  “Thanks,” the woman said. She looked nervous, as if she wanted to bolt. Jason hoped she would. He’d tell her friend how this sometimes happened and be done with it. Then he’d find that son of a bitch Bentley and shut him up for good.

  “I’m sure you want to know all about regression therapy. It’s actually nothing new. Medical science has been aware of its merits in treating many forms of menta
l illness for quite a number of years now.” He looked at the couple seated across from him and thought they weren’t buying it.

  “Dr. Dewitt, I’m Dr. Blake Hunter from Sweetwater. I’m Ms. Edwards’s primary care physician.”

  A doctor? What a joke. Or was it?

  Jason felt his armpits start to dampen, something that always happened when he was nervous.

  “Then I’m sure you’ve told Ms. Edwards about the benefit of RT.” Jason smiled at the two of them, hoping to impress them with his relaxed attitude. He wanted them to feel the choice was theirs. He’d never had to push patients to do something they weren’t comfortable with. Until then. He could tell the woman was uncomfortable with the idea. He wondered why in the hell she’d made the appointment in the first place.

  Did she know the trouble her memory loss caused him? Of course not, he answered himself. He needed to lie on his own couch.

  Calm down, he told himself. It won’t do to arouse Dr. Hunter’s suspicions. He’d just met the man and didn’t like him. Briefly he thought it might be because he looked like a doctor. Jason didn’t see beads of sweat dotting his upper lip—an upper lip that already looked as if a second shave wouldn’t hurt.

  “I’ve explained it all to Casey, Dr. Dewitt. Adam Worthington, a colleague and friend, told me about your past successes. I’m impressed. Actually, Adam is the one who called and scheduled this appointment. I hope you can help Casey.”

  “Adam, ah yes. We attended a few of the same conferences a while back. I trust he’s doing well?” The last was said as a perfunctory courtesy. He could not have cared less about his former acquaintance. If memory served correctly, he’d been nothing more than a smart-ass, totally full of himself.

  “He’s practicing in Atlanta and doing very well. I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

  Casey continued to sit in the chair across from him. She had yet to speak.

  “Do that. Now, Ms. Edwards, would you like to tell me about yourself?” Jason inquired.

  She glanced across at her friend, or more likely her lover, Jason thought, and looked back at him. Still nothing. He watched as she twisted her hands, then begin to pick at one of her cuticles. She was nervous. They were always nervous the first time. He sighed.

  In a hushed tone she asked, “Could I have a moment with Dr. Hunter, please? Alone.”

  Did this woman really expect him to leave his office? She remained seated, so he assumed she did. He sighed again but got up and walked out into the reception area.

  Alone now, Casey turned to Blake. “I can’t do this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That man. He gives me the creeps. I’m sorry, I can’t.” She hung her head forward, embarrassed to look at Blake.

  “Shhh, hey, if you don’t like the guy, it’s fine by me. We can always go back to the inn. Checkout time isn’t until three o’clock.”

  She made a halfhearted attempt to laugh at his humor in a situation that in no way should have been humorous. Leave it to Blake.

  “Do you think we could slip out the back door?” She’d do it if he would.

  “I’m game.” Blake crept to the door behind the doctor’s desk. He opened it and went inside.

  “A bathroom and what looks to be a fully stocked bar. Want one for the road?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. He slipped through the door and came out with two frosted bottles of Budweiser.

  “Blake, put that back,” she whispered loudly, and laughed. Then she got it. As usual Blake had her in mind. He knew she didn’t want to be there, knew she’d been frightened, and until they were completely alone, he would humor her. She liked this, and he must have known it, because he chose that moment to shove one of the chilled bottles down the front of his pants. His intake of breath sent her off in a fit of giggles.

  “Stop! Let’s get out of here before he returns.”

  “Okay, but the beer goes, too.” Blake stuffed the second bottle in her purse. He opened the door and peered out into the reception area.

  “Now,” he whispered as he grabbed her arm. “The elevator.”

  They bolted to the elevator just in time to avoid the doctor, who was wandering down the opposite end of the hallway.

  When the doors opened on the ground floor, they ran out into the street, laughing like children.

  “I can’t believe we did that.”

  Blake placed his arm around her shoulder as they walked down Savannah’s famed streets. “I can’t believe it either, Casey.” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned her so that she faced him. “What was that all about?” He jerked his head in the direction of the building behind them.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I had a bad feeling when I saw him. I can’t explain it other than I knew, no matter what, I knew I wasn’t supposed to stay there. I couldn’t allow him to probe in the protected corners of my mind. He made me feel . . . cold and afraid. Just thinking about him sends shivers down my back despite this heat.”

  “It’s always been your choice, Casey. Adam thinks this guy’s the best. I hate to admit it, but I have to agree about the cold part. When I shook his hand, his palm was sweaty. I felt like he was trying to make an impression.”

  “Then I was right to leave,” she said, as they picked up their pace.

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “You just said you felt . . .”

  “I know what I said,” he interrupted. “That doesn’t mean the man isn’t a good doctor. Adam respects his opinion. That alone has to count for something.”

  “Why does Adam care? Since my arrival he’s done nothing but avoid me. What would it matter to him if I have my memory or not?”

  She recalled the angry voices coming from John Worthington’s hospital room. What kind of son would yell at his father, who’d just suffered a stroke? She wanted to tell Blake about the argument she’d overheard, but found that she couldn’t. She didn’t want to hurt him.

  “Adam can be strange. He’s not an easy person to get close to, but once you’re in, you’ll never have a friend like Adam. And I don’t think he’s deliberately trying to avoid you, Casey. I truly believe he’s upset about John’s health, among other things.”

  She could just guess what those other things were. Like how many people would John Worthington be willing to cut out of his will to make his only son happy.

  “I suppose.” It sounded lame, and she knew it. She felt sorry that she couldn’t share Blake’s enthusiasm about Adam.

  When they reached the car Casey felt like a total failure and disappointment. Blake had rescheduled his appointments in the hope of helping her, and now this. Because of a strange feeling, she had left the one man who possessed the power to help her. Did she really want to remember? Was this her way of protecting her from herself?

  They headed to the inn for their luggage. Blake suggested they return to Sweetwater and forego their stop at Mercy Hospital.

  Casey wondered if by leaving Dr. Dewitt’soffice she had tossed away her chance for a relationship with Blake. Were his feelings contingent on her so-called return to normalcy?

  Chapter 17

  With Jo Ella gone for the day, Jason finally had the chance to wind down and plot his next move. He’d been delighted when he returned earlier to find both patient and doctor gone.

  He knew Bentley would call. This time he thought he had the upper hand. He was the puppet master, and if he played his cards right, Bentley wouldn’t bother him—or anyone else—again.

  The phone startled him, causing his pulse to race. He drew in a deep breath and picked it up on the third ring.

  “Dr. Dewitt, can I help you?”

  “I hope you already have.”

  Bentley.

  Jason knew the risk he took when he said his next words. “It went well,” he said tersely.

  “Then it’s your recommendation that it’s in Ms. Edwards’s best interest to return to Sanctuary?”

  Jason heard the hope in Bentley’s voice. He barely
controlled his urge to laugh.

  “Most definitely. However, I’m not sure we’re on the same page here. We need to meet. Your former patient managed to reveal a deep dark secret. You interested?”

  “What do you mean, a secret?” Bentley’s voice quivered.

  “I don’t think I should say any more on the phone. We need to meet. Tonight.”

  “Tonight? Hell, with the ferry schedule and everything else, you’re three hours away.”

  Jason could just imagine Bentley’s race against the clock to plot and scheme. Then remembered he had the upper hand.

  “I’ll keep the coffee warm.” He slammed the phone down and wondered if he’d done the right thing. He didn’t see that he had any other choice. He’d never get another moment’s peace as long as Bentley knew about Amy.

  He remembered the promise he’d made to the Judge. There was no way he would break his promise.

  Robert’s hand shook as he punched in the number. She answered on the fifth ring.

  “What in the hell took you so long?”

  “I told you not to call me here!” the voice all but shrieked.

  “Too fucking bad. There’s been a change of plans.”

  “What are you talking about? I thought you said you had a handle on it, and there was no cause for worry.” He liked it when she whined. Next, she’d beg, her usual pattern.

  “I did. I still do. There’s been a change, that’s all.”

  “And I assume it has something to do with me, or else you wouldn’t have risked calling me here.”

  “Look, we don’t have time for your smart-ass shit. I’ve got to be in Savannah by midnight.”

  “You want me to drive you there, is that it?”

  “You really are out of your goddamned mind, you know that? I want to get there before midnight. That’s why I called you. You have the authority to use your husband’s private plane. I need it. Make whatever arrangements, and I’ll be waiting at the airport in one hour.” He glanced at his watch. He could be in Savannah by ten at the latest. Dewitt had something up his sleeve, that much he knew. If Casey freaked out in his office, she’d made a record-breaking recovery since then. Hank reported to him the minute she and Blake returned to Swan House and said she hadn’t undergone the planned therapy. He’d heard her babbling to the nitwit housekeeper and laughing about how they’d skipped out. But, if by some chance Casey had remembered something, he was going to find out about it before anyone else got the chance. And if it meant silencing Dewitt, he’d do what he had to do.