by Lyn Horner
She stood and handed him a card with her cell phone number on it, and walked him out. Then she reprimanded herself for not controlling her mind probe. Her power came with some risk. She could have done serious harm to the man.
During the few minutes until her next patient arrived, her thoughts inevitably turned to Dev. Refusing to think about their kiss again, she mulled over the difficult decision he expected her to make. Should she leave everything behind and run off with him? She felt a kinship with him after what he’d revealed about himself and his family, but he was essentially still a stranger. She needed to be certain he was here on behalf of Lara, that he hadn’t stolen the Celtic pendant from her, and that he wasn’t one of the Hellhounds trying to wheedle his way into her confidence so he could get his hands on the scroll she guarded.
The only way to know for sure was to conduct a mind probe on him. Would he allow it? If he refused, what should she do? How could she trust him? She found no answers to the swirling questions.
*
On Monday morning, Dev figured Michaela would be tied up with patients all day. He would see her later. For now, he powered up the tablet he’d packed and spent part of the morning emailing members of the oil well fire fighting crew he’d belonged to – and hoped to again. He hadn’t seen or contacted any of them in over two months, since the explosion that had put him in a hospital burn unit. At first he’d been too doped up on painkillers and later he hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone. Now that his back was about healed, as much as it ever would be, he decided to touch base with his crewmates.
He’d found out from his former friend Conn O’Shea, who normally bossed the crew, that they were engaged in capping an oil well fire in the Middle East, not the best place to be these days. Knowing it was evening over there and that most of the boys had smart phones or some other communications device, Dev started texting and emailing. Lucky for him, several of his friends were resting up after a hard day’s work, and they promptly replied to his messages. It was good to hear from them. They ribbed him about living a life of leisure while they took up the slack in his absence, giving him some laughs.
When they invariably asked how he was doing and when he would return to work, he answered with smartass quips like, “I didn’t know you had the hots for me,” or “Why should I rush back to you roughnecks when I can snuggle up with a gorgeous blonde?” They didn’t know he was only half joking with that last crack.
Done exchanging good-natured insults with them, he ate a quick lunch in the hotel grill and set out to cruise the island. Checking out the storm-battered west end, he found most properties in good shape but a few abandoned buildings still stood. On the bay side, as Michaela had said, a number of abandoned low-income houses and empty lots testified to Hurricane Ike’s lingering effects.
He also drove through the historic Strand district where he and his college buddies used to hang out during spring breaks from Texas A&M. Glad to see the old buildings with their shops, restaurants and bars still survived, he stopped in Molly’s Bar on Post Office Street, ordered a drink and chatted up the bar tender for an hour or so. By then, it was late afternoon and time to pay his golden girl a visit.
Dev had looked up her office address earlier. Located in a medical building on Harborside Drive, it was a short drive away. He parked, took the stairs to the second floor and found her office easily enough. His problems began when he walked up to the reception desk, where a young woman with curly red hair sat eyeing him through wire-rimmed glasses, a smile pasted on her freckled face.
“Hi there,” he said. “I’m here to see Dr. Peterson.”
“The doctor has seen all of her scheduled patients for today,” said the receptionist, whose nametag read ‘Jennifer’. She peered at him with an impatient expression, causing him to suspect she’d been about to leave before he showed up. “Would you like to make an appointment, sir?”
“No ma’am. I’m here on personal business. I’ll just go on in.” He started toward the closed inner door.
“No! You can’t do that!” Miss Jennifer cried. Jumping up from her chair, she darted into his path.
“Sure I can.” He winked and, as gently as possible, took hold of her arms and moved her aside. Ignoring her wordless protest, he opened the door.
*
Michaela finished tidying up her desk, glad to be done for the day. She was slipping on her cocoa-brown suit jacket when the door opened. Looking up, she was surprised to see Dev standing there, broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
“Isn’t it obvious? I came to see my golden girl.” Grinning, he walked into the room.
Jennifer scurried in behind him. “I’m sorry, Dr. Peterson. I couldn’t stop him.” Usually composed, she wrung her hands in distress.
“It’s all right, Jenn,” Michaela said, fighting for an even tone. “Shut the door please, and go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her receptionist glanced uncertainly at Dev but nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Waiting for the door to close, Michaela stared at Dev, who stood immovable with his arms crossed, powerful physique filling out his t-shirt – a black one this time – bringing to mind an ad for bodybuilding equipment. He cocked an insolent eyebrow at her and his lips twitched, making her stiffen. As soon as they were alone, she vented her annoyance.
“I wish you would stop showing up out of the blue and upsetting my employees. First it was my housekeeper, and now you’ve frightened Jennifer.”
“Sorry for that,” he said wryly, rubbing his jaw. “Guess I should have called, but would you have talked to me?”
“I … I don’t know.” She nervously checked her tightly pinned chignon, “And I’m not your girl, golden or otherwise.”
“Sure you are, honey,” he said, flashing another grin, eyes dancing with humor.
Flustered, she concentrated on buttoning her jacket. She was trying to think of a good comeback when a knock sounded on her door. She looked up and caught Dev’s startled glance. Then the door opened to show Andrew Kohler standing there. She went rigid at the sight of him.
“Michaela, I … .” he began, stepping into the room. He froze when he saw Dev. “You again!”
“Yeah, me. What of it?” Dev said, jaw set in a stony expression.
Andrew swung his furious gaze to Michaela. “I see why you dumped me. You prefer this muscle-bound ape.”
Not saying a word, Dev stalked toward him, fists clenched and head down like a charging bull. Andrew backed away, fear supplanting his mask of fury.
“Dev, don’t!” Michaela cried. Dashing around her desk, she splayed her hands across his chest and shook her head. “Please,” she implored.
He glanced down at her, blinked and nodded with obvious reluctance. His posture relaxed slightly but he kept his menacing glare trained on Andrew. Emitting a shaky breath, Michaela faced the Minnesotan.
“I don’t want to see you again. Leave. Now. And don’t come back.”
“Fine!” he hissed. “Have it your way, but you’re making a mistake. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” On that ominous note, he stormed out, slamming the waiting room door so hard that Michaela jumped.
“That sounded like a threat,” Dev said from close behind her.
Rocked to her toes, she turned, shaking in reaction and breath coming in short gusts.
“Hey, it’s okay. Breathe deep.” His strong arms wrapped around her, one hand gently pressing her head to his shoulder. “He’s not going to hurt you. Not him or anyone else, I promise.” He held her quietly, his warm breath brushing her cheek.
She clung to him, accepting his comfort until she collected herself enough to step back. Embarrassed, she looked down. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually lose it like that.”
“No need to apologize. He’s a blustering ass who deserves a kick in his teeth.” Pausing, Dev planted his hands on his hips and blew out a whistling breath. “But he could also be one of the Hellhounds. Me
aning I’m not letting you out of my sight until you make up your mind to get off this damned island.”
Michaela opened her mouth to protest but the words wouldn’t come. Was he right about Andrew, about the threat to her? For the first time, she questioned her refusal to leave her home and practice, her whole life behind. She didn’t know what to say or do.
“Let it go for now,” Dev said, taking pity on her. “Let’s grab something to eat and relax for a while.” Gripping her elbow, he nudged her toward the door.
“Wait! I need my bag.” She drew away and retrieved her handbag from the bottom drawer of her desk. Switching off lights, she followed him out, locked up and accompanied him down to the first floor. Once outside, she halted.
“What about my car?”
“Leave it here. I’ll bring you back to get it later.” He led her to his Range Rover and held the door for her as she got in. He snapped his fingers, giving her a start. “Hey! I’ve got an idea. Let’s go have some fun at the Pleasure Pier.”
“What? No, I don’t think so. I’m not in the mood for that kind of thing.”
He grinned. “And that’s exactly why you need to go.” Not waiting for a reply, he closed her door and strode around to the driver’s side. As soon as he slid behind the wheel, she reiterated her insistence that she didn’t want to go to the pier, coming up with reasons why she really should just go home. It did no good. He brushed aside all of her arguments.
“You’re as stubborn as a mule!” she said in exasperation, crossing her arms and staring straight ahead.
He laughed. “I’ve been told that before.”
“Perhaps you should learn to take no for an answer.”
“Uh-uh. If I did that, I never would have gotten past your front door.” He reached over and gently rubbed the back of her neck. “Relax, Goldie. It’ll do you good to let go and have some old-fashioned fun.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, but she didn’t shrug off his massaging hand. It felt too good. Somehow he knew exactly where to dig his fingers in to loosen her tense muscles.
“Why not? It suits you, and I’ve decided not to call you Mickie. It’s a cute nickname, but it’s what that jerk Kohler called you.”
“You could call me Michaela, you know. It is my name, or don’t you like it?”
”I like it fine but I’m mighty partial to Goldie,” he drawled with a wink. He gave her neck a light squeeze and withdrew his hand, much to her disappointment.
A few minutes later, they pulled into a parking lot across from Galveston’s historic Pleasure Pier, where the famous Flagship Hotel had stood for decades. Built on pilings that extended into the Gulf beyond the sea wall, the pier had survived Hurricane Ike for the most part, but the hotel had been too heavily damaged to save. In its place, there now sprawled an amusement park.
“Do you want to eat here?” Dev asked, shutting down the SUV and pointing to the nearby pink-painted Fish Tales restaurant, a local landmark with its iconic red fish tale sticking high in the air. “Or do you prefer Gump’s?”
She nodded toward the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company across Seawall Boulevard at the head of the pier. “I like their scampi.”
“You got it. Why don’t you leave your jacket in the car and let down all that gorgeous hair. It’ll get blown apart anyway if you don’t.”
She took his suggestions, also rolling up the sleeves of her white silk blouse and opening an extra button at her throat, while he watched with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. He stowed her belongings in the back of the Range Rover and concealed them beneath a well worn camo jacket for safe keeping. Then they headed over to the restaurant.
Once they’d eaten, Dev bought all-ride passes for them at the main ticket booth and they were given wrists bands, allowing them onto the pier. The long, relatively narrow expanse was crammed with rides, games, fast food and souvenir shops. Deciding to let their dinner settle before trying any of the high voltage rides, they stuck to the gentler ones like the double-decker carousel and the towering Galaxy ferris wheel.
By now, the sun had set. Brightly lit with LED lights, the wheel bathed them in a rainbow of colors as they climbed higher and higher. On their second revolution, the ride paused to let passengers on or off. Michaela and Dev swung gently in their gondola at the apex of the wheel, with a starlit view of the dark sea spread out before them.
“It’s stunning,” she whispered in awe.
“Yeah, it is,” he murmured. Arm resting across her shoulders, he lightly stroked the silk-clad skin of her upper arm, sending shivers dancing along her nerve endings.
She turned her head to look at him and found him gazing at her. Catching her breath, she waited with pulse pounding, knowing he was going to kiss her. He bent his head, about to weld his lips to hers, when the ride suddenly jerked to life. Startled, she cried out as they began the downward glide. Then disappointment set in over his almost-kiss. It must have showed on her face, because he laughed softly.
“Don’t worry, Goldie, our ride isn’t over. I’ll catch you on the upside.” And he did, not once but twice before it was time to step out of their mechanical cocoon.
After that, Dev led her from one ride to another, insisting they try even the most terrifying ones. Left breathless and fizzing with excitement, she then let him talk her into trying her hand at every game the pier had to offer. She was an abysmal failure at most of them, while he won the biggest prize every single time. When they finally left the amusement park, both of them were so loaded down with stuffed animals that they barely fit in the SUV.
Dev drove Michaela back to her car then followed her home. Saying he had no use for fake fur critters, he helped tote them into her house. When she started to put her share on the couch, he objected.
“Not there. Pile them here,” he said, dumping his load on the brick fireplace hearth across the room.
Wondering why it mattered, she gave him a funny look but did as he directed. “This is enough to start a petting zoo,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll send it all to my niece and nephew. I’m sure they will be thrilled.” She smiled and rubbed her arms. “I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you for making me go.”
“My pleasure, Goldie.” Grinning, he cleared his throat. “Do you have an extra pillow I can use?”
She blinked in confusion. Then, realizing what he intended, she shook her head and waved her hand in denial. “Oh no, you’re not staying here.”
“Oh yes, I am. I’m not leaving you here alone after Kohler’s threatening remark. I’ll sleep here on the couch.” When she started to argue, he barked, “Save it, Michaela. I’m staying, and from now on I’ll be shadowing you everywhere you go. Get used to the idea.”
She glared at him. Clenching her fists, she was tempted to sock him in the nose, but the arrogant, handsome devil would probably laugh at her if she tried it. Fuming, she spun on her heel and stomped upstairs to fetch a pillow from the linen closet. While she was at it, she grabbed a blanket.
“Don’t know why I should care if he gets cold,” she muttered under her breath as she carried the bedding down to him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dev spent a restless night thinking about the stubborn, beautiful woman sleeping upstairs. When he finally fell asleep she followed him into his dreams, but these weren’t the same as his dreams of her before they met. Now, she beckoned him with a come-hither smile, long blonde hair whipping about her the way it had on the rides at the Pleasure Pier, making him long to draw her in for a kiss.
He woke feeling frustrated and lethargic at half-past seven the next morning when Michaela came downstairs, heels clicking on the wooden steps. He sat up in time to see her pause at the bottom of the stairs and drape a light gray suit jacket over the banister. Dressed in tailored slacks that matched the jacket and a cream colored blouse, with her hair pinned back like yesterday, she looked chic and all business. Glancing his way, she gave a reserved smile.
“Good morning. Sorry if I woke you.”
“
Not a problem. I need to get up.” Sounding like a bullfrog and feeling like a slob compared to her, he raked back his hair, stood and stretched, conscious of her watching him. When he looked at her, her gaze darted away.
“Uh, there’s coffee if you want it.” With that, she hurried down the hall toward the kitchen.
“I want it,” he croaked. Stretching again to work the kinks from his back, he folded his borrowed blanket and piled it with the pillow on one end of the couch. Inhaling the aroma of strong black Columbian, thankful Michaela had set her coffee maker to start perking earlier, he trailed after her barefoot. He found her standing at the kitchen counter with her back to him, buttering a slice of toast. She turned to face him, toast in one hand, a steaming cup in the other.
“I set out a mug for you,” she said, tilting her head toward where a streamlined brewing machine stood gurgling softly.
“Thanks.” He made a beeline for the coffee. Once he’d swallowed a few hot mouthfuls, he managed to speak normally. “Good coffee.”
She nodded and munched on her toast, not looking at him. Sighing, he guessed she was still upset over him spending the night. She wouldn’t like him tagging along with her today either. Too bad. She was stuck with him.
“You mind if I take a shower?”
“Not at all.” Finishing her toast, she brushed crumbs from her hands into the sink, above which light pored in through a tall window. She downed a last sip of coffee and poured the rest down the drain. “You’ll find towels in the linen closet at the top of the stairs,” she said over her shoulder while rinsing out her mug. “If you want breakfast, there are eggs and bacon in the fridge. Bianca will be here shortly. Please clean up after yourself and save her the extra work.” Turning, she stepped around a narrow island that cut the room in two and marched into the hall without sparing him a glance.