Guilty Pleasures

by Stella Cameron

  They followed Belinda through several dark, sparsely furnished rooms, and out onto the roof.

  Cacti crowded a small garden on top of the building that housed Another Reality. Hundreds of cacti. More varieties than Nasty had ever considered might exist. Many bloomed their unreal colors made more vivid by the layer of fine, white sand spread over the area.

  Polly smiled faintly and averted her face.

  He squeezed her fingers.

  “You will sit here, Polly,” Belinda said firmly separating their hands. “And you over there, Nasty. You must both lie down and experience the healing powers of my garden.”

  Protesting that he didn’t want to be separated from Polly by several yards of sand might make him sound unbalanced. He didn’t want to be separated from her—ever.

  Polly accepted her friend’s autocratic directions and allowed herself to be guided to a rattan chaise. Nasty subsided into one just like it, right down to its purple-and-gold-striped pillows.

  Belinda folded her hands beneath her bosom and breathed deeply. She closed her eyes, and said “Cleanse yourselves. We must gather the power needed to combat what we do not understand.”

  “Mom shouldn’t have called you,” Polly said, sounding miserable.

  “Hmmm.” Belinda rocked. “This creature who calls and tries to bend you to his will is to be understood, not feared.”

  Nasty sat forward on his chaise and studied the woman.

  “He has succumbed to his deepest passions, and those passions have made him desperate.”

  “Belinda—”

  “No.” The woman interrupted Polly and went to ease her down onto the chaise. She stroked back her hair and kissed her brow. “You will not upset yourself further. Festus and I are experts in these matters of focused fascinations. We shall concentrate our power and decide how to assuage the hunger without depleting your strength.”

  Purple lingo had never been Nasty’s forte—spoken or interpreted. But if he got the gist of this garbled message, the lady wasn’t talking about knife-wielding wackos in wet suits. She still thought the problem of the day remained with passive telephone threats.

  “Did Polly’s mother explain exactly what happened last night?” The habit of gathering absolute information didn’t die easily.

  Festus emerged, a thin, gray-haired figure—also in black.

  “Please calm Nasty for me,” Belinda told him. “He is agitated. Venus spoke of a great deal of trouble last night. I wonder if Polly—and I understand perfectly, my dear—but I wonder if she is losing objectivity. Could that be so?”

  “No.” Nasty frowned Polly to silence. “No, Polly’s perfectly objective. But things are under control.” He didn’t want her panicked more than she was already panicked.

  “Of course they are.” Belinda perched beside Polly on the chaise. “Forgive me if I sound like a mother hen, but Polly has become as close as a daughter to me. She is the gentlest of spirits.”

  As if he needed to be told. “The gentlest,” he agreed, looking at his gentle spirit’s troubled eyes.

  “This man who makes these objectionable calls is harmless,” Belinda said. “He may even be a true admirer. These things happen. He could be concerned for your goodness, Polly. He could believe that he has a mission to assist you to remain pure.”

  The turn of the conversation put Nasty on edge. “When Dusty gets here with Venus and Bobby we’d better get you to bed,” he told Polly. “You’re exhausted.”

  Festus hovered near the open door into the apartment over the shop. Nasty glanced from the man to a large, glass dome situated on what appeared to be a single, third-story room.

  “Your stargazing quarters,” he said, indicating the dome. “Nice setup.” Surely the city lights must prove a hindrance.

  “Nice enough,” Festus said. “Speak to that husband of yours, did you, Polly?”

  She hesitated, then appeared to make a decision. “Sam Dodge isn’t my husband Festus. He never was.”

  “Hush,” Belinda said loudly. “And you, hush, Festus. Some things do not need to be spoken of.”

  “Bobby’s father and I were not married,” Polly persisted as if driven to confession. “Sam was never interested in having children. When I became pregnant with Bobby, Sam told me to choose between him and the baby. I chose my baby—naturally.” Then she looked at Nasty, looked at him hard.

  “Naturally,” he said softly. In other words, she was reminding him that Bobby was first with her.

  Belinda wound and unwound her fingers. She ran them over her skirts as if drying her skin. The color in her cheeks grew even brighter. “You will not do as you’re told, Festus,” she said. “I warned you not to pry, but you didn’t listen. You have forced Polly to speak of things that need never be said. You have humiliated her in front of her new friend. You—”

  “I already knew Sam Dodge wasn’t Polly’s husband,” Nasty said trying for a bland tone. “She doesn’t have anything to be embarrassed about. Will we hear that bell from here?”

  “I’ll go down and wait,” Festus said and fled back through the door with obvious relief at escaping Belinda’s wrath.

  “For Bobby’s sake”—Belinda turned up her palms—“if not for your own, it would be best not to speak of his, er, condition.”

  “You make illegitimacy sound like a disease,” Nasty said not regretting his words. “If it is, it’s not fatal. Not immediately, anyway. My father was an occasional visitor. His last name wasn’t Ferrito.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Belinda said in hushed tones. “How generous of you to try to soften this for Polly.”

  Nasty decided Belinda was never going to be one of his favorite people. “I think Polly is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. She doesn’t need me to help her feel good about herself.”

  The woman regarded him from beneath lowered lashes. “You’re right, of course. My reactions are because I am so concerned for her in these troubled times. Will you help me persuade her to look for the good in what this man says to her on the phone. I truly believe—given what Venus has told me about the messages—that he means Polly no harm.”

  “For God’s sake!” He rubbed his jaw. “Sorry. I’m tired, too, I guess. But you don’t know Polly was attacked last night, do you? Physically attacked?”

  Belinda’s bewildered expression took in first Nasty, then Polly. “Attacked? Who attacked you? A man?”

  “Yeah, a man,” Nasty told her. “Who the hell do you think it would be?”

  “What man?” She never looked away from Polly. “Tell me at once. Who is this man? How do you know him?”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “He got into her condominium. He hit her. Show Belinda the cut on your scalp.”

  Polly shook her head. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to think about it anymore. He grabbed me from behind and turned out all the lights so I couldn’t see him.”

  “And?” The whites of Belinda’s violet eyes grew prominent. “What did he do to you? Oh, please, what did he do?”

  “Stop it.” Nasty stood up. “This isn’t helpful. Come on, Polly. We’ll wait for Dusty and Venus outside.”

  Belinda rose as if to ward him off. “How dare you presume to interfere in matters you cannot possibly understand as I do! This is a matter of the heart, to me—of the spirit. Polly and I have a connection that is quite different from any you may pretend. I have encountered her on an astral plane of which she is yet to be aware. It is entrusted to me to guide her to safety.”

  “Too bad you missed out last night,” Nasty said, his patience shot. Somehow he’d get Polly out of here without insulting the deluded lady further. “Sorry if I’m a bit short. It was a long night, and it’s been a long day. And it isn’t over yet. So, if you’ll excuse us.”

  She breathed deeply, and drew herself up very tall. Her expression became serene. “Polly,” she said calmly. “Of course. I was troubled but… Oh, yes, I was trying—the weak, earth-bound part of me was trying to deny the warnings o
f my spirit I deceived myself with the pretense that when I felt you were in trouble, it was merely our well-meaning whisperer. Oh, I shall have difficulty forgiving myself. I had only to listen and be sensible enough to know that the pain I felt was from your body as well as your mind.”

  The pain Nasty had begun to feel was somewhere else. “Yeah, well, thank you very much for the fresh air and insights.”

  “We’ll have some tea. I know what it should be.”

  Polly’s white face sickened Nasty. “We’ll go home,” he told her. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Stop,” Belinda pointed at him. Her long forefinger ended in a broad blunt fingernail. She turned the finger on Polly. “There was sex, wasn’t there? You were… You were forced to have sex.”

  “No,” Polly said faintly. She went to Nasty’s side. He saw the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

  “You must not lie to me. I cannot help you heal if you hide your shame.”

  “Stow it,” Nasty said through gritted teeth. Damn, she’d driven him to lose his temper. “Give it up, lady. Practice the mumbo jumbo somewhere else.”

  “Mumbo jumbo!” He was treated to another sighting down her finger. “I see what you cannot possibly know I see. I see you. She was attacked by a man she could not see. Forced to have sex with a man she could not see.”

  “I was not forced to have sex.” Polly pushed past Belinda and made for the door. “I couldn’t see who attacked me, but he didn’t force me to have sex.”

  “You wanted to have sex?” A whirl of black gauze swished between Nasty and Polly. “Oh, my poor girl. How could I have failed to understand at once. Of course. You did what your flesh drove you to do, but then you were ashamed. And this story is your sad way of trying to deny your own lust. We are your friends. We accept you as you are. Admit the truth of what you have done.”

  Nasty dodged Belinda, grabbed Polly, and rushed her inside. “Don’t listen, sweetheart. She’s lost it.”

  “You’ll forgive me,” Belinda said, only steps behind them. “And Nasty will forgive you. I knew about Bobby. Of course I did. And I knew your appetites still demanded satisfaction. You did not need to cover your excesses by inventing a story of rape.”

  Eleven

  “She thinks I made the whole story up,” Polly said. “Not the whole story, just the part about being attacked against my will.” She and Nasty had gathered with Dusty and Venus in Dusty’s living room. Bobby, who now had his dog, Spike, with him again, had been settled in front of the television in Dusty’s bedroom.

  Splendid in yellow tights and an oversize lime green sweatshirt—with matching headband—Venus hovered beside Dusty.

  Nasty stood by the windows overlooking the terrace, and the lawns descending to the lake.

  “What if they all think what Belinda thinks? The cast as well?” Polly moved behind Nasty. “You were talking to Gavin. What did he say?”

  “The man’s an ass.”

  She rested her forehead on his back. “He thinks I encouraged some stranger to beat me up? What kind of logic is that?”

  “That’s it!” Venus raised her hands. “I shall deal with these people myself.”

  “No, you won’t,” Dusty said. “Sit down. I’ll pour us a drink.”

  “Thank you,” Venus said. “But I won’t be dissuaded. I’m a mother—and I’m a mother at one with the earth, and who understands the rightful order of things. It isn’t right for a good, kind, gentle woman like my daughter to be accused of such outrageous deceit.”

  “You’re right,” Dusty said. He poured several glasses of Wild Turkey and took one to Venus. He shooed her into an overstuffed chair upholstered in daffodil-strewn yellow chintz. “You’re absolutely right, but there are times when we’ve got to let the fools hang themselves, right, Nasty?”

  “Right.”

  Polly got the impression Nasty wasn’t hearing much of what was being said.

  “We know we’ve got a problem on our hands, right, Nasty?”

  “Yeah, Dust.”

  “But our bases are pretty much covered now. Bobby’s a great kid, and he’ll be with me. If he’s not with someone else we can trust to do anything that’s got to be done to look after him.”

  “You’re a wonderful man,” Venus said, her face filled with admiration. “We must always celebrate the day you came into our lives.”

  “I’m the one who’s got to celebrate,” Dusty said in his rusted voice. Every time he looked at Venus his eyes lost focus, and his mouth fell slightly open.

  If she weren’t so frightened, Polly might start to worry about her mother’s apparent infatuation with her new friend. And Dusty’s clear reciprocation of the sentiment.

  “We can’t allow ourselves to be diverted,” Nasty said. He crossed his arms and braced his legs apart. The muscles in his back bunched under Polly’s brow. “We’ve either got more than one faction at work here, or one very clever group set on making us believe there’s more than one.”

  “But what do they want?” Polly raised her head and declined the drink Dusty offered her. “Why would anyone single me out for this?”

  Nasty took a glass from Dusty. “This isn’t anything you’ve ever had experience with before. You’re going to have to let me deal with everything.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. “I mean it.”

  There was a great deal she wanted to know about Nasty.

  His anger, the anger she felt in him, made it tough to ask questions, but she had to. “When you were in the Navy you dealt with some bad people, I expect.”

  Dusty and Nasty barked with laughter at the same time. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Polly said, feeling miffed. “You can’t expect people who never had anything to do with that kind of thing to know exactly what you did.”

  “There’s no need for you to know about it,” Nasty said shortly. He turned from the window and looked down at her. “But you do want to know about me, don’t you? More about me?”

  He could fluster her with only a glance. “Don’t you want to know more about me? Or more than you’ve been able to find out so far?”

  “I already know what I need to,” he told her simply. “I’ll learn the rest as we go along.”

  Venus made a choking noise but Polly ignored her. “You assume so much.”

  “Yeah. It’s a habit, but I base it on—”

  “Instinct,” she finished for him. “Bully for you. My instincts aren’t so great.”

  “Nasty’s are great,” Dusty remarked. “He’d still be doing his thing if he hadn’t had a bad break in Colombia.”

  “That’s history,” Nasty said, sliding to sit in a director’s chair and draping one of his legs over a wooden arm. “I made a bad call and got shot. The end.”

  She did want to know more—she wanted to know everything about him. And she wanted to convince herself that her motives for taking him into her life weren’t based only on what Belinda so accurately called lust. Or the need for the support of a strong, dauntless man when she felt so threatened.

  “You do know Belinda was suggesting I was the man with you last night?” he said, swinging his foot. “She’d dreamed up some concoction about me sneaking up on you, then you deciding you liked the idea of sex with a rapist.”

  “That’s disgraceful,” Venus said, and swallowed a huge gulp of bourbon. “You must be mistaken. Belinda is a very special, very intuitive woman.”

  Polly couldn’t look away from Nasty’s eyes. “If she’s so intuitive, you’d have to believe what she believes. Nasty’s right, Mom. She did kind of hint that it could have been him last night.” But Belinda didn’t know how it felt to be in Nasty’s arms, to be touched by him, and to touch him. If there was any violence in his lovemaking, it was the violence of his passionate tenderness.

  “We gotta have a plan,” Dusty said, coughing. “Smoke ’em out. Never could abide waitin’ for the other side to make the first move. That’s what did Nasty in. Not that he had a choice w
hen—”

  “Not now,” Nasty said brusquely. “I’ve got some thoughts on all of this. I need a little time to work them through. In the meantime, Polly and Bobby can’t be left alone.”

  “Bobby’s with me,” Dusty said. “How about you, Venus. Maybe you should stay here, too.”

  “I have my classes to conduct,” Venus said, but she smiled a little girlishly, Polly thought. “And I’m responsible for running Hole Point. I can’t let Bliss and Sebastian down. If I have even a hint of trouble, I’ll call you for help at once. And the police will be checking in regularly.”

  “They’ll be checking my place regularly, too,” Polly commented. “I’ll be fine.”

  “As long as you don’t have a visitor when the patrol car isn’t cruising by,” Nasty said. He stood up. “Dust, I need to go to the April for one or two things.”

  Dusty cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure. No problem. Think we should see if Roman can make it over from Montana? Might be good to have another pair of eyes.”

  “I’ve got eyes,” Venus said, widening hers.

  Nasty’s gum snapped. “Not the kind of eyes Roman Wilde’s got. Maybe, Dust. But not yet. Not until I figure out if what I’m thinking is on the money. I’ll be right back. Nobody goes anywhere until I am.”

  He left swiftly, without a direct word to Polly. She felt his absence immediately. Her breathing quickened and her heartbeat. “He could be in danger because of me,” she said. “You should go with him, Dusty.”

  She was rewarded with another harsh laugh. “Nasty don’t need a baby-sitter.”

  “I was thinking of a bodyguard, not a baby-sitter.”

  “A bodyguard for the best bodyguard in the business—one of the two best in the business. Nope. Don’t think so. But I would like to see Roman walk through the door. They made one hell of a team.”

  The light was failing. A willow at the shore cast a dim, swaying silhouette against a livid evening sky. She peered through the gloom until she picked out Nasty striding along the floating dock toward his boat.

  He was putting his own safety on the line for her. She owed him honesty about everything she felt—and feared. She owed him the truth. There was more than a chance that she was falling in love with him, too, but there was also a chance that she might not be if they hadn’t come together when she was needy.