LOVE'S FUNNY THAT WAY

by Pamela Burford

  "Brent told me he took you flying on Saturday," Hunter said.

  "It was incredible!" Raven nodded toward a small white airplane visible in the sky some distance below them. "That was us. We took off from a commercial airport in Jersey and flew up the west side of Manhattan. It was a little rocky and I started turning green around the gills, but the experience was unbelievable."

  Hunter chuckled. "I always cross myself when we take off and land—and I'm not even Catholic!"

  Raven's eyes widened. "You've gone flying with him? What about your acrophobia?"

  "I … didn't want Brent to know about my fear of heights. So I kind of toughed it out. Kept my eyes shut a lot."

  "And crossed yourself a lot." She smiled. "Whatever works."

  She couldn't imagine how Hunter had managed those jaunts in a small airplane, which she knew from experience entailed sitting in a tiny cabin right in front of the windshield, looking down, down, down… There was a whole lot of down when you were in one of those things.

  The observation deck they stood on ran nearly the entire perimeter of the 107th floor, while the interior housed gift shops and a food court. Viewers could stand at the railing, or step down through cutouts in the railing to sit on benches closer to the Plexiglas walls that provided a panoramic view.

  Visibility was remarkable on this afternoon in early February. Facing south, they clearly saw Battery Park straight down; the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Governors Island and Staten Island; and the Atlantic Ocean stretching into the distance. To their left was the East River and Brooklyn, to their fight, the Hudson River and New Jersey.

  Raven looked at Hunter, who was clearly absorbed by the bird's-eye view. A frown puckered her brow. He experienced occasional moments approaching panic, interspersed with periods of utter calm. It was almost as if he could turn his acrophobia on and off at will. Either that or he'd become proficient at disguising his symptoms.

  Any other explanation didn't bear close scrutiny.

  With the slightest touch, Hunter urged her to continue their stroll around the observation deck. They passed people of all races and nationalities, conversing in a dozen tongues. A man speaking an Eastern Europe language Raven couldn't identify dropped a coin in the binoculars mounted for public use and lifted his small son so he could look into them.

  Hunter steered her around a knot of teenagers speaking French. "You know, you did real well last night. You appeared entirely comfortable onstage."

  "I did? I was a wreck. I'm always a wreck, but it's getting better. My legs don't shake so much!'

  "At least Brent finally got to catch your act. What kept him away last week? He said he was sick, right?"

  Raven nodded. "I offered to cancel my gig at Stitches to come over and take care of him, but he wouldn't let me. He said all he needed was rest, that he was going to go straight to bed and stay there."

  Hunter made a funny noise deep in his throat.

  "Oh, don't worry, he's fine now," Raven assured him. "Turned out to be just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs, thank goodness. The weird thing is, on Sunday he called and asked me out for last night. Which I thought was a little odd, considering we really haven't gone out on weeknights and he knows how I spend every Wednesday night nowadays."

  "Doing stand-up therapy."

  She laughed. "Dr. Radley's amazing cure. Anyway, Brent was kind of insistent about my taking the night off to be with him, which really isn't like him." She shrugged. "At least I don't think it is. I mean, I was willing to miss a performance to take care of him when he was sick. But just for a dinner date we could have anytime?"

  "Let me guess. You stuck to your guns and in the end he decided to join you at Stitches."

  "That's right, and he had this lovely surprise for me after the show! Two dozen yellow roses. Can you believe it? You must've helped him hide them."

  "Stashed 'em in my office."

  "I guessed as much. Anyway, I thought it was really sweet of him." It would have been sweeter, though, to have had Brent's presence at her first two performances, flowers or no flowers. Raven instantly admonished herself. He'd wanted to be there last week; it wasn't his fault he'd gotten sick.

  As they strolled toward the north-facing part of the observation deck, the entire island of Manhattan lay spread out before them. Raven recognized the Empire State Building and the slanted pinnacle of the Citicorp Center. Sunlight glinted off the art deco spire of the Chrysler Building and the gold dome of the Metropolitan Life Building.

  Hunter slid his arm around Raven, prompting her to ask, "How are you managing?"

  "I'm okay. It helps, having you with me."

  "I guess it's like the way I felt the first time I performed at the club. You got me to do something I never in a million years would have thought I could do. You never let me chicken out. You were always there, encouraging me, coaching me, giving me a verbal kick in the pants when I needed it." She grinned. "My own private drill sergeant."

  As they watched, clouds drifted over Manhattan, casting living shadows on the landscape of buildings.

  "Look at that," Raven breathed. "It's … surreal."

  "'All that we see or seem,'" Hunter recited, staring at the remarkable vista, "'Is but a dream within a dream.'"

  She smiled. "More Poe."

  He was quiet for a long moment. Without looking at her, he said, "I wonder if you know how much you reveal about yourself when you go out on that stage."

  "I guess I never really thought about it. Should I be worried?" she joked.

  Hunter turned and leaned back against the railing, so he was facing Raven instead of the window. He folded his arms over his chest. "I have a feeling I gain as much insight into you, just from listening to your routines, as you do about me during my hypnotherapy sessions."

  She thought about her acts, the wry observations about family, friends and romantic relationships. She couldn't help asking, "So tell me. What have you learned about Raven Muldoon?"

  Hunter was mere inches away. His black down jacket lay open over a white turtleneck. His big body radiated heat and a subtle and alluring masculine scent. Raven fought an almost irresistible urge to slide her hands under his jacket, to lean into him, to cling to him and feel his arms band tightly around her…

  "What have I learned about Raven?" Hunter mused, as though to himself. "I've learned that Raven is an inherent optimist, a Pollyanna in a world of cynicism and self-indulgence."

  "A Pollyanna! Oh God!" She dropped her head into her hands.

  Grinning, he pulled her hands away from her face and held them. "I've learned that Raven has a solid moral core, and if the rest of humanity is determined to go to hell, she sees no reason to follow them there. I've learned that Raven is a generous and devoted friend. Just ask the pals she's had since kindergarten. I've learned that Raven is too bright and competent for most of the men she's been involved with."

  "You can stop now."

  "She puts on a good front," he continued, "but lately she's begun to wonder if she's the reason she's thirty and single." He cocked his head, studying her intently. "I've learned that Raven has all this love bottled up inside, just waiting for the right recipient."

  Raven's eyes stung. Mortified, she ducked her head. Hunter tugged her closer still. The rough pads of his thumbs swiped away the tears before they could fall.

  He cradled her face and tilted it up. "My brother doesn't know what a treasure he has."

  This close, Hunter's warm breath teased her lips, and she could almost taste him again. As if she'd spoken the thought aloud, his gaze dropped to her mouth, and for one mad, reckless second she thought, Yes, do it, don't think about it, just do it.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw and he dragged his bleak gaze back to her eyes. He released her. She backed up a step, drew a shaky breath. At once her surroundings snapped into sharp focus: the throngs, the noise. The smell of pizza and french fries from the food court. The sprawling cityscape far below.

  Raven looked away for a few
seconds. When she felt in control of her voice, she said, "Still want to tackle the rooftop walkway? It's pretty nippy out there. Seven below with the windchill factor."

  "I'm up for it if you are."

  "Great. Let's do it." The bracing cold was probably just what she needed right now. From the way Hunter had looked at her a few moments ago, she suspected it was just what he needed, too.

  Not for the first time, she thought, Why can't anything be simple? She started walking.

  He tugged her arm to stop her. "Raven." His eyes reflected a heady brew of conflicting emotion. "You could stand to be a little more cynical and a little less trusting."

  She let her frown ask what he meant by that.

  Hunter directed his gaze over her shoulder. He jammed his hands in his jacket pockets, and Raven sensed a battle being waged within him. When he looked at her again, his expression was unreadable. "Forget it I'm one to give advice, right? Let's check out the roof."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  "Is that a new pin?" Hunter eyed Raven's medieval-looking, heart-shaped brooch as he hung his jacket on the antique coat rack in the corner of her office.

  "Brent gave it to me for Valentine's Day."

  I should've known, Hunter thought.

  She caressed the smooth, oval chunk of amber set in the brooch, which contrasted dramatically with her black sweater tunic. "I love amber. He gave me matching earrings, too." She tucked her hair behind her ears to show them off.

  "Nice." Hunter reached out and lifted one dangling, amber-studded earring. His fingertips grazed Raven's earlobe. He sensed more than heard her breath catch.

  He released the earring. Valentine's Day. He couldn't help but wonder if the romantic holiday had prompted Raven to consummate her relationship with his brother. Considering the fact that Brent had spent the next evening with Marina, Hunter doubted it.

  This was his sixth hypnotherapy session. Two weeks earlier, on the blustery rooftop walkway of the World Trade Center, Raven had declared him, if not cured, then well on his way. He didn't need her anymore, she'd stated, her gaze fixed on the coastline of New Jersey. There was no need to schedule further sessions.

  She'd been rattled at the time; he knew that. She must have sensed how close he'd come to kissing her again, downstairs on the observation deck. He knew he made her nervous as hell. But he hadn't been ready to give up his sessions with her. He'd come to depend on them, his Raven "fix," the high point of his week.

  So he'd spouted those lies about how he put on a brave front, and it might not be obvious, but he still needed to work on his acrophobia. And she hadn't challenged him, even if, as he suspected, she was beginning to see through the charade.

  It could be that she was bighearted enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Or it could be that she, too, looked forward to that one hour a week.

  Like an addiction, she monopolized his thoughts during the long days when he didn't get to see her. And like an addiction, his dependence increased steadily, despite the fact that it could lead to nothing but heartache, despite what it was doing to his relationship with his brother, which he'd once considered sacrosanct.

  Have a falling out with Brent over a woman? Before the last few weeks—before Raven—the very idea would have been laughable.

  His interactions with Brent had been strained, to say the least, during the two and a half weeks since his brother had slammed the door in his face. And Brent still didn't know about these clandestine therapy sessions, augmenting the burden of guilt that weighed more heavily on Hunter with each passing day.

  "You seem distracted," Raven said. "Is something wrong?"

  "No." Hunter sat in the recliner. He tilted it back. "Let's just get started." Maybe then he could convince himself he had a legitimate reason for being here.

  Raven collected her notebook, which Hunter thought of as her security blanket—a prop to help convince her, too, that theirs was an ordinary therapist-client relationship.

  "Have you had any encounters with heights since our last session?" she asked, taking her usual place on her rocker.

  "No."

  "No tall office buildings, no—"

  "No. Nothing." He shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable.

  "Okay, well … close your eyes, Hunter."

  He did.

  "You're at the beach," she said, "lying on your towel. You're listening to the rhythmic sound of the waves as they break on the shore. The warmth of the sun—"

  "I can't do this." He opened his eyes.

  "What is it? Are you too tense?" Raven set aside her notebook. She leaned toward him with tender concern. Her fresh, powdery scent wafted over him. "Would you like to talk for a few minutes?"

  Hunter just looked at her. Finally he tilted the chair up. "I can't do this anymore." She straightened. She said nothing, but watched him with wary eyes as he sat forward, elbows on knees, and shoved all ten fingers through his hair.

  Quietly he said, "You know what I mean."

  She held his gaze for a moment before looking at her lap.

  "Don't tell me you don't," he said.

  "Hunter…" She shook her head, as if to deny that things had gotten this far. When she spoke again, he had to strain to hear her. "I really hate this."

  He sighed. A minute passed in total silence. Finally he said, "Did you ever wonder where I got the capital to open Stitches?"

  "I guess I've wondered," she said. "It wasn't my business to ask." When he gave her a look that said, Figure it out, she said, "Brent?"

  He nodded. "He cashed in some CDs, wiped out a couple of retirement accounts. Took a hell of a hit on early withdrawal penalties. He's not charging me a penny in interest, either. If it weren't for him, I'd be managing somebody else's business right now, and hoping I could save enough bread by the time I'm forty to buy in to it."

  After a moment she said, "You feel beholden to your brother."

  Hunter smiled wistfully. "That's the least of what I'm beholden to Brent for. He was eight years old when I was born. He practically raised me. By the time I came along—a happy accident, so I gather—my parents were middle-aged and preoccupied with their careers. Not that they neglected me or anything, but our sister, Tina, was already in school and, well, I guess the baby of the family always has to kind of work to find his place.

  "Brent relished the job of big brother from day one. As far as he was concerned, I was his project, his responsibility. I used to toddle around after him, and all I wanted—" Hunter's throat was tight with emotion; his childhood adoration was still so vivid. "All I wanted was to be like him. To be him. He was everything I aspired to be." He looked at Raven. "Can you understand that?"

  Raven nodded, her eyes glistening.

  "When I was old enough to get into trouble, he always bailed me out," Hunter continued. The memory triggered a crooked grin. "I'd pick fights with everyone, knowing my big brother would step in and keep me from getting hurt. Until the day he decided I needed to learn a lesson. I was nine and I goaded the neighborhood thug-in-training until it came to blows. Brent stood on the sidelines, giving me one or two words of encouragement but otherwise staying out of it." Hunter laughed. "My nose didn't stop bleeding for hours. I never picked a fight again."

  "That must've been hard for him," Raven said. "To stand there and watch his little brother take a pounding and not do anything to stop it."

  "Years later Tina told me how shaken he'd been. But it was something he had to do. He watched to make sure I didn't get killed, but otherwise, I was on my own" He chuckled. "Son of a bitch."

  Raven's smile was gentle. "He helped make you the man you are."

  Hunter dragged in a deep, ragged breath. "I owe him a lot. And not just the money for the club, which I'll manage to repay someday. It's just … so much more."

  "Hunter." Raven leaned forward. She placed her hand on his. "You haven't done anything wrong."

  His response was a mirthless half laugh
.

  "You haven't," she insisted.

  "He knows."

  Raven started to pull her hand away. Hunter seized it, twined his fingers with hers.

  "He knows how I feel about you," he said. "It came up because … well, it's not important. As far as he's concerned, you know nothing about it, and that's the way we're going to leave it." He searched her eyes. "Raven. I'm not trying to come between you and Brent. That was never my intention. I need you to know that."

  "I never thought you were."

  Slowly he released her fingers. "I won't be coming back here." He gave her a wry look. "Let's just say I've experienced a sudden and miraculous cure."

  "I'll stop doing stand-up at Stitches."

  "No! That's not… Listen, out of the two of us, you were the one with the actual phobia, and you've worked on it and you've come a long way toward conquering it. Damn it, you're not stopping now."

  "This is why Brent has been trying to keep me from the club, isn't it? Because of you and me."

  Hunter nodded.

  "Does he know about the … I mean, that we…"

  "The kiss? No. He just doesn't want us together when he's not around." Hunter sighed miserably. "He doesn't trust me."

  "Or me."

  "That's not true. Raven, he knows this is a one-sided thing." She started to speak and he cut her off. "It'd be just like you to try to deflect his ire from me by taking some of the blame yourself. All that would accomplish is to tear you two apart. This thing between me and Brent—I have to work on it myself."

  "Hunter, it's more complicated than that."

  "I know how you feel about Brent. I've watched the two of you together. Whatever you think you feel for me, it's not the same. It's a chemical thing—a superficial attraction. It'll pass."

  Raven's voice wavered. "I'm not so sure about that."

  "It'll pass," he insisted, "but meanwhile, if I weren't in the picture, you'd be sleeping with Brent by now—maybe even picking out a china pattern." Thinking of his brother's hypocrisy, he added, "Don't beat yourself up over this. Whatever you imagine your sins to be, they're nothing in the greater scheme of things. Not everyone holds himself to such high standards."