Damn, there it was. Everybody pulling on him, wanting something. Chandra wanting his body. His agent wanting him to hold on to endorsements and threatening to sue the clients, when all he cared about was that he might never ski again. Immaculata pushing him to get out of his room, to go out and mingle, and pretend everything was right in his world. Even Shayna DaCosta wanted something. She wanted him to read this stupid book. The only people that didn’t seem to want anything from him was his family.
Beau debated about going over. His conscience kicked in. What could it hurt? This man was far worse off than him. He had difficulty breathing on his own and all he was asking was an opportunity to meet him. It would take a little effort to wheel himself across the room and say a few words, but his dexterity was improving. He owed it to these men who were proof positive that Hill Of Dreams worked.
“Okay,” Beau grunted, awkwardly maneuvering his wheelchair, attempting to follow Lenox. He kept his eyes straight ahead, acutely aware of the other patients staring and of the whispered conversations as his wheelchair lurched and wobbled. He focused his attention on the man sitting in the monstrous wheelchair, head back, eyes riveted on him.
“Hi, Earl,” Beau said when he was almost there.
Lenox was crouched down next to his friend, talking to him softly. Earl managed a gurgling sound that Beau interpreted as a greeting. He was a big bear of a man, dark skinned, and with a neatly trimmed beard. Even in his incapacitated state his eyes still twinkled. What did he have to feel good about?
“Lenox here tells me that you’re a Hill Of Dreams graduate,” Beau said, attempting to keep things light.
Another gurgling sound escaped as Earl attempted his version of a nod.
Beau struggled for something else to say. What did you say to a man whose recovery looked hopeless? He was no doctor but it was evident from Earl’s appearance and labored assisted breathing, his situation was far more serious than his. For the first time Beau silently thanked God for being alive. Seeing Earl in this state had reminded him of his own mortality. He suddenly wanted to get away.
“Take care, man,” Beau muttered. “And good luck to you.” He nodded to Lenox, pushed the joystick of the mobilized wheelchair in place, and headed out.
As he wove his way down the hallway, barely escaping bumping into walls, it occurred to him that for once he’d no desire to return to his room. He took a quick left, barely missing colliding with a nurse’s aide and muttered a hasty “Excuse me.”
He continued down a long hallway hoping that he was heading in the right direction. On one of the rare occasions he’d peeked out of his window he’d spotted an outdoor terrace filled with flowering plants. He was determined to find that terrace. Meeting Earl had made him realize how lucky he was. It gave him a lot to think about.
Chandra had been gone a full two days, and he still hadn’t heard a word from her. That, in and of itself, was unusual. Truthfully he couldn’t say he missed her. It felt good not to be under pressure, to have space, to be able to think. Chandra’s continuous whining, her demands only served to agitate him. He was tired of her sailing into his room, regaling him with stories of her glamorous life, and the shallow people in it, when he was no longer a part of that life.
Beau lurched to a full stop in front of huge French doors. Unlatching them would pose a problem.
A familiar female voice came from behind him. “Can I help you with that?”
Beau squelched his initial annoyance that Shayna would catch him at such a vulnerable moment. He managed to angle his wheelchair so that he could see her and grunted a halfhearted hello. Even so he couldn’t stop himself from gaping.
Shayna Da Costa was a major babe. In her skimpy athletic getup she radiated energy and confidence. Beau couldn’t take his eyes off her compact little body. Black biking pants molded around strong thigh muscles. She’d coupled those pants with a hot-pink, midriff-baring top. A gold stud peeked from her belly button and her tiny feet were encased in Nike sneakers. Size five if he had to guess. Hot-pink socks with a crocheted border were cuffed around her ankles. She reminded him of actor, Will Smith’s wife, Jada. A cute chocolate Barbie doll, sleek, but still scrumptious enough to eat
“Heading out to read, are we?” Shayna asked, eyeing the book in his lap, broken spine and all. She made a tssking sound. “Looks like you’ve actually been reading, or should I say throwing?”
“Just help me with the door, prin…” Beau snarled.
“Shayna,” she said through clenched teeth. She stood back to the door. Her crossed arms and raised eyebrows said it all. “There’s a magic word.”
Beau felt the heat creep into his cheeks. Better to ignore the smirk on her face and the dressing down she’d not so subtly given him. He had to admire her brass. She was not easily intimidated by him and that was refreshing. Not that there was reason to be awed these days. Beau Hill, the skier, was washed up. A has been. An overnight wonder who’d never ski again.
“Please, since you insist,” Beau mumbled, reining in his temper.
“Now that’s more like it.” She blew him a kiss and opened the door, standing aside until he wheeled himself through. She had the tightest butt he’d ever seen on any woman. The most perfect shape. Compact yet womanly. It was her smile that got to him, insincere as it might be. What was wrong with him? The woman was a witch. He shouldn’t be having this reaction. He shouldn’t be thinking of sex.
“Now what comes after please?” Shayna said sweetly, eyelashes batting.
“I don’t remember.” Beau twirled the gold bob in his ear. Irritated as she’d made him, he liked sparring with her, matching wits. It helped perk up a boring day.
“Tsssk. Must be all the medication you’re taking.”
“You really are an annoying woman,” he snapped.
“No more annoying than you.”
Touché. He hoped she hadn’t noticed she’d gotten to him in her skimpy attire. How hot and bothered he’d now become. Those uncontrollable hormones. Everything inside him pulsed. A fire had settled deep in his loins that needed stoking. He hadn’t had feelings like this in eons. Not since the accident. No, even before the accident, sex had become a mechanical thing, a reaction to stimulation.
Hope sprung anew. He was alive down there. Beau Jr. was responsive. Shayna, without even trying, had achieved success where Chandra had failed. She’d made Beau Jr. budge.
“Do you have a second job moonlighting as an aerobics instructor?” Beau asked, openly eyeing Shayna up and down. He couldn’t take his eyes from her body, her face. Curiosity had momentarily pushed aside churlishness. He wanted to know why she was dressed that way. Where she was going. Rehabilitation therapists didn’t look like that. Act like that.
“I’m going for a walk if you must know,” Shayna answered, bouncing on her tippy toes, excess energy apparent.
“In the middle of a workday?”
“Two of my outpatients canceled. My next sessions aren’t for a while. I’m at loose ends. Want to join me?”
Beau knew she could be a witch but never thought she’d be that cruel. He gave her the full effect of his stony gaze. He wouldn’t let her know how much her off-the-cuff invitation hurt him.
Shayna’s expression softened. “Oh, come on. We’ll explore the grounds. Smell the flowers. Feel the spring.” She flexed her arms. “Stay put. I’ll go get my weights.”
Beau tried to get back control even as Shayna retraced her steps and disappeared through the same French doors they’d come through earlier. Breathing in the crisp spring air sounded tempting. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be outdoors. Feelings of nostalgia washed over him as a light breeze danced across his cheeks, making even his scalp tingle. God, but he’d almost forgotten what it was like to inhale fresh air. He’d forgotten he had a life. Albeit a sedentary one. He could use these few solitary moments to sort out his feelings for Chandra.
You were supposed to miss the woman you were engaged to. The woman you planned on having a futu
re with. Beau Hill, champion skier, and Chandra Leon, supermodel, were supposed to have been the ideal couple, set for a life of happily ever after. They were the beautiful people. Perfection personified. Yet if he were honest he’d admit he’d fallen out of love with Chandra. She’d become a habit, a person simply to endure. His disenchantment with her had happened long before the accident. One day he’d simply woken up to the realization that she was all glitz and little substance. Yet he’d hung in there, convincing himself this too would pass, that they were well suited and could make it work. They’d had one thing in common, the need to succeed. He’d been determined to bring home Olympic gold while Chandra had set her sights on being a supermodel of godly proportions, the face of the new century. Chandra still had her hopes and dreams. He had nothing.
Beau vaguely remembered hearing the newscasters’ speculations. Then he’d been angry, hurt, and resentful. Too bitter to really listen. His coach and agent had shared the rumors with him, but he’d found it difficult to believe that anyone would want to sabotage him. Yes, he knew the competition was fierce. The gold medal coveted. But he was one of the more popular skiers. The guy everyone liked, even the competition.
“Ready?” Shayna asked, returning, weights strapped around her wrists.
“How did I get myself into this?” Beau mumbled.
“No excuses. Let’s go.”
Shayna was already striding ahead of him, leaving him to awkwardly maneuver his wheelchair down the ramp. He was determined to keep up with her and despite the willfulness of his chair, made it to her side. She whistled and applauded ignoring the thunderous look he threw her.
Rolling green lawns now faced him. Seated under several shady trees were patients he recognized. Many had visitors. Beau squelched a moment of panic. It had been months since he’d been outdoors and the space seemed wide and unending. Everything seemed foreign but familiar at the same time. Scary yet new. He’d been so self-focused he’d forgotten the world existed. He’d lain there content to waste away.
Shayna led the way to a paved pathway running the length of the property. She began to bounce on the balls of her feet. “Time to show me your stuff, big boy,” she said, curling a finger at him.
Swinging her arms, she took off, lengthening her strides until she found a comfortable rhythm. Beau tried his best to keep up with her, but he still wasn’t completely comfortable maneuvering his chair, and it wobbled right and left. With some difficulty he avoided colliding with others, before eventually catching up.
Finally his competitive nature kicked in and he pushed himself. “This place is huge,” he puffed, sweat beading his brow, his arm muscles aching.
“Fifty acres exactly.”
“Tell me we’re not going to explore the entire fifty acres?”
“Not unless you insist.”
They’d covered an equal distance but she didn’t appear warm or flushed, nor did she show the first signs of slowing down.
“Do you always power walk around these grounds like someone’s in hot pursuit?” Beau panted, barely keeping up with her.
Shayna tossed him one of her enchanting smiles. That smile went right to his heart. Kaplunk.
“Not these grounds,” she explained. A girl does what she has to do to maintain her figure.”
“Your shape needs little maintenance,” Beau said dryly.
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
Shayna had slowed down enough for him to catch his breath. The thought occurred to Beau that she’d done so more for his sake than hers. She must sense that all of his atrophied muscles ached, that his upper arms felt leaden. She must see his sweat. God, he might even have to ask her for help on the way back. He would die first.
“Mr. Hill? Mr. Hill?” A woman’s strident tones called from behind him.
Beau turned to see a nurse’s aide running toward them. She brandished a mobile phone.
“Phone call, sir,” she shouted, getting closer. “The woman insists it’s an emergency.”
Beau’s heart practically stopped. His first thoughts were of his parents. It was not uncommon for his dad, criminal lawyer that he was, to receive death threats. Had something happened to his mother, Kelly, or Jason?
“Who is it?”
“Your fiancée, sir.” The aide thrust the phone into his hand. “She insisted I find you.”
Shayna smirked. “Fiancée? Didn’t you say you’d broken up?” He could tell she was doing her best not to laugh. He could do without her listening.
Beau covered the mouthpiece. “Chandra is no longer my fiancée,” he said with finality.
“Could have fooled me.” Shayna guffawed. “That hasn’t sunk in apparently. I’ve been reading up on you. Your engagement was front-page news. You were America’s most high-profile couple.”
“What’s my personal life have to do with you?”
“Everything about you is now my business. You made it my business when you hired me. You’d be surprised how much it can affect one’s progress. You’ve become my pet project.”
Beau harrumphed. “I’m no one’s pet, princess. Like I told you before, things are on hold between Chandra and me. Our engagement is temporarily off.”
“Then why is she hunting you down?” Shayna challenged, her skepticism showing.
“Because we’re still friends.”
“Right. You’re single, just not available.” Her laughter was a throaty sound. It mocked him. He had the sudden urge to kiss her and shut her up at the same time.
“Don’t even go there,” Beau snapped, turning away to speak into the phone.
Chapter Five
Milan was Milan. What could Chandra say? The city was upscale, glamorous, thriving, much like her. She was the center of attention here. She was wined, dined, and admired by the glitterati, though not necessarily in that order. All that was lacking was a man.
Even as a child Chandra had believed she was special. She’d convinced herself that a case of mistaken identity had left her one of seven siblings. The poor farmhands that called themselves parents were caregivers, she’d decided. She’d been aware of her unusual looks when at the tender age of twelve she’d successfully seduced the farmer’s son. The teenager had been blond haired, blue eyed, and eighteen, and had somehow managed to forget that she was jailbait.
Their torrid affair had lasted a full two years until she’d met Elan. He was a scout for the Ford Modeling agency and she’d met him at a concert. He’d spotted her and literally stood there and gaped. It was she who’d approached him, knowing the effect she had on men, knowing that before the evening ended, he’d be eating out of her hand. They’d had a whirlwind courtship and despite her parents’ protests she’d gone with him to New York. There she’d become an expert at turning her exotic good looks into big bucks. After Elan had been Drew and a host of others. She’d kept using every bit of ammunition to get her way. Now seven years later she was a household name, her face gracing some of the more upscale magazine covers. Anyone who didn’t know who she was had to be born under a rock. They needed an education.
Chandra Leon planned on taking the world by storm. She planned on being bigger than Tyra, Iman, or Naomi. Poor Beau, useful as he had been or might still be, providing he regained use of his legs, wasn’t to be considered. What was she going to do about him?
Chandra looked up from the book she was signing and flashed her cover-girl smile her fan’s way. “Your name?” she asked the pretty Italian girl outfitted in Versace.
“Anna Maria. Please write something nice.”
Chandra graced her with another phony smile and hastily scribbled Stay Beautiful, Anna Maria.
At the same time she spotted an elegant man in an expensive suit. Chandra tossed her full head of hair and turned the wattage up. He was an important man, she sensed. Not only important but monied. Somebody. The cut of that suit, the way he held himself, the entire package appealed to her. The brief eye contact they shared had communicated interest. He’d reacted, his color heightening,
the light in his eyes signaling she turned him on. Time to pounce before someone else did.
Chandra turned her attention back to the book signing. It was a Bellissima-sponsored event and had been set up in the fragrance and cosmetic department of one of the swankier stores. A nice-sized crowd lured by free fragrance samples and her name, of course—Chandra preferred to think it was her name—had turned out to stand on a line that wrapped twice around the floor. Already she’d sold more than a hundred copies of Chandra’s Kind of Beauty. She could sell more.
“How are you?” Chandra asked, turning her attention to the next person in line and accepting the book the middle-aged woman proffered. She threw the mystery man another smile, mindful that there were only three women between them. The man’s arms were loaded with books. Her books. Chandra wondered if he planned on giving copies to all of the women in his life. She cast him her seductive smile and he held her gaze. She completed her business with the three women quickly and faced Romeo, upping the wattage on her smile and twirling a lock of store bought hair. “That’s quite the pile you have,” she said by way of greeting.
“So I’ve been told.”
The voice was accented. Italian. He was about as brazen as they came.
“I’m not here to talk about books, bella,” he continued. “You are a delight to look at. Bee-au-tiful. Perfect”
His liquid gaze and that heavily accented voice were a tum-on. She smelled the testosterone coming off him. No question, she wanted to jump his bones. Chastity was for the birds.
Chandra’s new acquaintance set the entire pile of books down in front of her, and placed his palms on the table, leaning in. He smelled of an expensive and erotic fragrance. Familiar yet foreign. Walking, talking sex.
“Shall I autograph those for you?” Chandra asked, enjoying the way his eyes caressed her as they shared secret looks. Looks that clearly said he wanted her. She counted at least a dozen books in his hand, translating the amount from Euro into US dollars, and silently whistled. You had to be well heeled to spend $600 on books.
His Golden Heart Page 4