He raised a hand. “Honi was the love of my life—before you. Even before I realized how much I love you, the flame had died. I told you why I kept letting her come on to me. It was payback for what she did. Now I know how childish that was. If you could only find it in your heart, my love, to forgive me. God, I’ve said I’ll never hurt you and I have—badly—and I’m sorry. Baby, I think you know how sorry I am.”
Last night’s feelings were in her heart again and the heat was back in her loins. Could he tell? To fight it, she laughed a little. “Give me time,” she said.
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Take what time you need, but I’ll be praying all the time. I love you, Stevie. Really love you. Just remember that.”
She only nodded. He was hard to resist, even if she did want to kill him.
“My day,” she said then, “or rather my afternoon. Oh, yes, thank you for that wonderful breakfast.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Well, this afternoon, there’s my appointment with Dr. Winslow, which you were kind enough to say you’ll take me to. Then drop me on Music Row by my favorite record shop and I’ll pick up Mariah Carey’s and Sade’s latest albums and I’ll take a taxi home from there.”
“I’ll take you both places and bring you home. Muncy may be in jail, but Jake’s still out there.”
“I talked with Jessi today and she told me Jake’s gone down to Memphis. He stopped by on his way.” She crossed her arms over her head. “Oh Lord, I love being free again. Damien?”
She wasn’t sure she should discuss it with him. Songwriting was such a personal thing. “Another song’s been going through my mind. I’m going to test it when I sing again at Club Insomnia.”
“Oh? How about singing it for me?”
She closed her eyes. Her muse didn’t care that she and Damien weren’t lovers anymore. The muse pulled out all the stops. She was used to sharing her music with him and even if she killed him, she’d sing it on his grave. Her eyes got hot with tears then, the way her body got hot with pure lustful desire. She cleared her throat and began.
“They say that three’s a magic number.
And I, for one, believe it’s true.
Three words I know will help me tell you
Just how I feel about you.”
Damien nodded, his eyes half-closed. “I like it.”
She hesitated a long while. “I feel a little stupid singing it. It’s a deep love song and we may never go that route. But I trust your judgment like no one else’s, and I know you’ll be fair.”
He nodded again. “When did this song first come to mind?”
“Oddly enough, my last day in the hospital. It’s been nattering at me, demanding to be born since we’ve been home. There are times when being an artist gets in my way.”
He was dead serious then. “Bodies and muses have a way of knowing what’s best for them.” And he thought his body knew what was best for him: her. His fantasies were haunting him and he wondered if she’d ever let him through again.
She licked her bottom lip. “Well, I’m embarrassed, but here goes. I’ve just got the first verse, but the rest is coming in fast.
“I love you, I want you, I need you!
Every night and every day.
The two of us belong together
All the time and all the way.”
She stopped and he looked at her, his heart in his eyes, and said, “Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“About us?”
“Yes.”
“It’s just a song. Songs don’t know what’s going on. They can be silly.”
“Love is never silly. That song is going to be one of your best, but ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’ will always be my favorite.”
She felt sadistic then, remembering what a famous psychiatrist had said, that love is not the absence of sadism and hostility—the more you loved, the more you could be hurt—that it is the absence of envy. And Damien envied her nothing. What she had was what he had. Her creations were his, too. She groaned inside because she was tangling up, her emotions were insisting on running her life.
“I’m glad you like the song,” she said gently. “I’m going to need to get dressed. The appointment with Dr. Winslow is for one and I’ve got to stop by and get my thigh examined.”
“And how have you been?”
Dr. Winslow’s broad face was wreathed with smiles as he continued. “You look well. I was out of town when you were hurt and I’m sorry. Did you get my orchid plant?”
“I did and it’s beautiful. The note said it’s from your collection. Thank you. I’ll soon be transplanting it.”
“How are you doing? As I said, you look well.”
Stevie was surprised to find tears behind her eyelids. “I’m doing well so far as the accident is concerned. As for the amnesia, there isn’t much I don’t remember, but there are other matters.”
They sat in comfortable overstuffed chairs opposite each other. When she was silent so long, he prompted her. “Other matters?”
“Let’s talk about the amnesia first.”
“Very well. How’s it coming?”
“I haven’t needed to see you because it’s been coming along so well. I remember almost everything.” She hunched her shoulders without being aware of it. “Everything except that one segment with the whirling orange ball that I’m certain is Bretta’s jogging suit and cap. A part of me is terrified of remembering that.”
He nodded. “We said it would take time.”
“And if I never remember, am I to live on with this fear?”
“I think you will remember.”
“Dr. Winslow, Detective Rollins thinks Keith Muncy killed Bretta and intended to kill me, but he’s back in jail. He broke parole, and they have enough evidence to send him back to prison for Bretta’s death, but you know what it’s like these days with the courts. You can never be sure. I’m terrified of him.”
“I’m sure you are. And what about Jake?”
“Other than the note, the fax and the phone call, all of which I’m sure he did, he’s been quiet. He keeps begging me to go easy on him when I testify against him in October.”
“And will you?”
“No way. I intend to tell the truth, and that’s damning enough. I’m not being vindictive.”
“No. I don’t think you are.”
Her voice went low then and she told him about her marriage, about Honi and Damien. He looked thoughtful.
“If it weren’t for the baby, I’d leave in a split second.”
“You want this child.”
“More than anything. He wants it, too. I told you it’s why we married.”
“Had you considered that he’s telling the truth? You told me before you were married that you had a relationship based on integrity and respect, that you were physically well-matched and you were both afraid of love.”
“I quickly realized I love—loved him.”
Dr. Winslow half closed his eyes and smiled. “I’d let that stay in the present. What if he’s telling the truth?”
“I’ve thought about that. Even if he is, he’s in love with Honi. He’s always loved her. He’s putty in her hands.” She went on to tell him about Damien letting Honi go with them to the recording session at Mick’s, about Honi coming back to Nashville with Damien and Whip.
“Sometimes a man who’s determined to win does things he doesn’t want to do. Your husband didn’t get to be a mogul by holding back. He does what he feels he needs to do to get ahead.”
“Yes, I know, but before we married it was all about me. Then he changed.”
“Can you tell me how he changed?”
She expelled a harsh breath. “He kept Honi largely out of my hair. She came on to him all right, but he pushed her away. After we were married, he seemed to enjoy her flirting with him.”
“Maybe he felt safe. After all, he was married to you.”
“That’s what he says. He loves her, Dr. Winslow. She’s the love of
his life.”
“Has he never told you he loves you?”
Tears came then and he let her cry. Finally she blotted her eyes with a tissue from the box beside her. “He swears he loves me, but he never really said it until the accident.”
“Sometimes it takes a blow of fate to make us know our minds.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I think he would move heaven and earth to help me get well. He feels guilty.”
“I’m sure he does. Do you believe in forgiveness?”
“I do. He’s asked me to forgive him.”
“And will you?”
She thought about his question a long time before she answered. “I’m not sure…”
“You say you love him.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“But you do.”
“This morning he told me if the shoe were on the other foot, he’d forgive me in a heartbeat. I think he’s telling the truth. I know it’s not right, but I keep wanting to hurt him the way he’s hurt me.”
“Revenge makes a cold bedfellow.”
Stevie thought about her wild, erotic visions of her and Damien together and nodded. “How I know that.”
“Consider forgiveness. You’re carrying his child. You need all the love you can get.”
“Then I’m considering leaving you. I haven’t seen you in a while and until the night of the accident, I’ve been doing really well.”
Dr. Winslow leaned back and crossed his long legs. “I don’t think you should leave until you at least remember the details of the whirling ball. You’re still set against hypnotism?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s slog on. You need to talk through your anger at Damien.”
“I could kill him.”
He smiled. “I know. The hurt went deep and that’s a measure of your love for him.”
The time was up too soon, and Stevie made another appointment for a week later. She surely needed to talk more with Dr. Winslow about her fury at her mate.
As she and Damien walked to his car, she told him, “As I said earlier, drop me off on Music Row at my favorite record shop and I’ll take a taxi home.”
“I was going to wait, take you to the office with me. I’m going to be there late. I thought we’d have a catered meal sent in.”
“No. I’m enjoying my feeling of freedom. I’ll take a taxi home. I want to work on my song.”
“You’ve worked very well at my office. Plenty of space to be alone.”
Her cell phone rang as Damien helped her into the car. “Hello, lovey.” It was Mick. “I was out of the country on Lyric Island with Sileia. I heard about your accident as soon as I got back. How’re you doing?”
“Oh, Mick. I’m doing fine. How is Lyric Island? Did you have a good time? And how is Sileia?”
“Everything’s A-OK. Sileia was homesick. She’s good for a while. Lyric Island’s still a bit of paradise and yeah, we had a superb time. You and Damien have got to go there.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
“Were you badly hurt?”
She told him about her injuries and he sympathized. “Listen, Sileia’s baked you a coconut-rum cake with macadamia nuts. It’s a big one and she swears it will hasten your healing. We love you and we’ll see you in a day or so. Do you have time for company?”
“I always have time for you two.”
“Give my best to Damien.”
“And you give my love to Sileia.”
Music Row was busy this time of day, but the record shop wasn’t crowded and she browsed. For a moment she thought the album she wanted by Sade was out of stock, but she saw it out of place. She selected three of Mariah Carey’s albums. The thing she most admired about Mariah was her performance, whereby she took one syllable of a lyric and stretched it over several notes. Stevie was good with this; Mariah was a genius.
As she studied the new country artists, she felt a light hand on her shoulder and looked around into Ron’s face.
He stammered, “I—I wasn’t sure you’d want to speak to me.”
“It’s all right, Ron,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
She would have sworn his eyes filled with tears. “And I’ve missed you. I heard about your accident and I wanted to come to the hospital, but I was ashamed. Thank you for not pressing charges. I didn’t deserve that.”
“I think you did. Can we sit at that table over there?”
He nodded and they walked over and sat down. “How are you?” he asked her.
“I’m doing well. And you?”
“How well can I do? I’ve made a mess of my life. That’s for certain. I read about you in Atlanta. You’re hot and I hope you stay that way.”
“Would you consider coming back to the group?”
“You’d want me back?”
“I asked you.”
“Give me a while to get over this.” A tear slid down his cheek and his voice was choked. “I loved her, you know. I’ll always love her. I wanted her jewels to keep all my life, but I got to drinking and I felt I had to get away. I had no money and I decided to hock a couple of pieces to live on. I felt she’d understand. I never told her I loved her, just hung on like a lovesick puppy dog.
“She talked to me, told me she had a married man she was crazy about and she was pressing him to get a divorce. She said she was going to do something to hurry the process along. That’s how she put it. Then she was killed…”
Stevie drew a deep breath. “Detective Rollins thinks Keith Muncy did it. He broke parole and he’s in jail. A man heard him threaten Bretta, saw him coming away from the place near where she was killed. It all seems to add up. He bragged to an informant that he was going to kill me, too.”
Ron shook his head. “My God, I’m glad they got him. If I had it to do over, I’d tell Bretta I love her and keep telling her. Love is too precious to play around with. My grandmother used to sing an old love song about speaking your love to those who seek your love. The title of the song is ‘Look to Your Heart.’ Bretta didn’t seek my love, but she had it all the same.”
Stevie had that song in her collection of golden oldies and she played it from time to time.
“How’s Damien?”
“He’s fine. He dropped me off here.”
Funny, since talking with Dr. Winslow and Ron she felt more relaxed, her heart felt easier. Maybe she was being a fool and it was too soon, but she was going to stick her neck out again. She wasn’t taking the taxi home, but to Damien’s office. And Honi had better not be there.
Chapter 23
August came in cool and damp. It misted rain for four days straight. One afternoon Stevie got her gardening tools together in the greenhouse and began to transplant the trifecta orchid that Dr. Winslow had sent her. It had wilted slightly and she was none too soon. Her mouth pursed, she looked at the long-stemmed plant with its peach-pink line of blooms. He had told her it was one of his finest.
The night she had gone to Damien’s office, he had been pleased and surprised. But she had felt shy about sleeping with him again. Her erotic dreams burned her at night. Sometimes she couldn’t believe the heat in her body for him.
Her mind was easier now with Keith back in prison, but there was always Jake to think about. But nothing else had happened. Damien didn’t need to guard her so closely and she was both glad and missed him at the same time.
She hugged herself because she felt good. Rainy weather was a favorite. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror opposite her, she smiled. Today she felt really well. Her wounds were healing rapidly. Thoughts about Ron’s words when she’d last seen him still haunted her. About speaking your love to others. Again and again she’d started to talk to Damien only to fall silent, not knowing what to say. They seemed close, but an awkward silence lay between them. She had come to believe forgiveness really was divine, but he seemed a trifle shy now.
Damien came in and squatted beside the table where she worked. “What’re you doing?”
“Just doi
ng what I should have done a week ago.”
“Orchids remind me of you. Beautiful. Precious.”
Stevie blushed. “You always flatter me.”
“You look especially happy today, love. Are you?”
“Yes.” She turned a bit to look squarely at him and their blazing glances caught and held. She felt fire begin in her belly and traverse her body. It had been so long. He felt the same fire and wordlessly he rose and took her in his arms.
“We need each other,” he said huskily. “I’ve missed making love to you.”
There was no longer any sense in holding back; she knew what she wanted. He had said he loved her. Why not trust him? Maybe he spoke the truth. It was what she’d prayed for, wasn’t it?
His eyes roved her body in the black halter and scarlet short-shorts and he groaned with lust and love that went to the marrow of his bones. “Stevie. Stevie,” he whispered. “Let’s go into that little office. We don’t have time to get to the house.”
He spoke for her, too, because she needed him inside her at that moment and hunger for him was consuming her.
Going inside the office, he locked the door, drew the blinds and stripped her clothes from her. He held her away from him and his gaze swept her before he kissed her long and ardently, his mouth playing games with hers as she felt herself melting.
“There’s the little matter of your clothes still being on,” she murmured as she drew away and began undressing him. He stood passively, enjoying her ministrations before he began stroking her. Her flesh was smooth and soft and she moaned a bit as he took her face in his hands and his tongue courted the corners of her mouth, then went in and danced with hers. Pulling her buns in to him, he squeezed them gently and entered her.
“Peach syrup,” he said, smiling, entering her body that could wait for him no longer.
“Do you really love me?” she whispered. “Did you mean what you said about loving me?”
“I haven’t said it just once. I told you I’d keep saying it and I have. I love you, my love. I’ll always love you. I was a fool not to know it before.”
The Way You Make Me Feel Page 24