Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

by Magda Alexander

  I pull out a string of condoms from my slacks. With her help, I tear off my jacket, my shirt, get rid of my slacks. I roll one of the condoms over my erection and fall into bed with her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Caitlyn

  The flight home takes less time than the trip to Hong Kong. We only stop in San Francisco long enough to refuel before we continue our journey to Virginia. Even so, we don’t get back home until late evening. Exhausted as we are, we both skip dinner. I barely take time to shower and unpack before I face plant on my pillow.

  But sometime in the middle of the night, I come awake to find Sterling in bed with me. After the milder temperatures of Hong Kong, Virginia seems so much colder. Grateful for his warmth, I cuddle up to him and go back to sleep. In the morning when I wake up, he’s gone.

  Nor is he in the dining room. “Good morning, Moseley.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Bennett. How was your trip?”

  “Great.” Wish Sterling was here because we really need to talk. I sense we’ve gone past the boss-employee relationship, but I don’t have the foggiest idea where we stand. We’re not in a relationship. Are we lovers? Friends with benefits? God only knows.

  I spend the morning transcribing his notes from the meeting. I’m proud I can understand the discussions and make sense out of them.

  After lunch, his phone rings.

  “Sterling MacKay’s office, Ms. Bennett speaking.”

  “Hello, Ms. Bennett. It’s Dr. Testa. He missed another appointment.”

  I make excuses for him. We just returned last night from Hong Kong. He probably forgot.

  “It’s vital I see him. Time is running out,” he says.

  My heart lurches. “What do you mean?”

  “At his last appointment we discovered his vision is 30%. That’s down from 60% two months before that. At this rate, he’ll be totally blind in another couple of months. We need to act now.”

  The thought of Sterling losing what little vision he has tears at me. “I’ll talk to him when he comes home.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Bennett. I appreciate that.”

  That evening during dinner, I wait until dessert is served before I bring up the phone call. “Your eye doctor called.”

  His hand clenches on his fork. “Oh?”

  Moseley dismisses the maid. He probably sensed things are about to get ugly.

  “You didn’t make your appointment. Did you get tied up at the office?”

  “No.”

  “Then why didn’t you-”

  “Because I damn well didn’t want to, that’s why.”

  “You missed your appointment two weeks ago as well.”

  His mouth thins into a hard, white line. “I’ll need to change doctors. He shouldn’t have revealed that to you.”

  “He’s worried about your sight.”

  “What sight? I’m nearly blind.”

  “How do you expect your vision to improve-”

  “Ms. Bennett. My vision, or lack thereof, is my problem, not yours.”

  We’re back to Ms. Bennett again, his way of imposing distance between us. But this time it’s not going to work. “I’m your personal assistant. So that means your doctor appointments fall under my area of responsibility. You need to go. How else are you going to get better?”

  He slams down his fork. “For six months, I’ve gone to him and his predecessors. Visited eye doctors, specialists several times a week. They all poked around, took images of my eyes, examined every bit of me, and my head as well. And none of them have helped me regain any kind of fuckin’ usable vision.”

  He rubs his hand across his brow.

  “Headache?”

  “Yes. Moseley, get me one of those damn pills.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Moseley departs, leaving Sterling and me for the moment alone.

  “Maybe those headaches are caused by pressure in your eyes or your head and that’s causing your loss of vision.”

  “So you’re a doctor now?” He bites out.

  “No. But my mother suffered from headaches when she had cancer. And it was caused by something pressing down on a nerve inside her head. The doctors couldn’t relieve her pain, but at least they knew what caused it.”

  “You think my doctors haven’t thought of that?” He picks up his fork and resumes eating his apple pie.

  “All I know is you should go. Otherwise you’ll never get better.”

  “And maybe if I go, I still won’t.”

  “At least you would have tried.”

  “Stay out of my personal affairs.”

  “You can’t give up. You have to keep trying.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  He jerks to a stand, bumping into the table and overturning the wine glass. “Stay out of my life.”

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll fire you.”

  “You already do that. You fire me every night and hire me back in the morning.”

  “This time it will be permanent,” he says as Moseley returns with his pills. He pops a couple his mouth and storms out of the dining room.

  It won’t do any good to follow him, so I don’t.

  “He’s so stubborn.”

  Moseley, wise servant that he is, doesn’t say a thing.

  After I finish my apple pie, l retire to my room where I change into my flannel gown and grab my e-reader. But the story fails to capture my attention and soon I’m asleep.

  I wake up to his body sliding into bed with me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

  I turn into him. “I only want the best for you.”

  He captures my hand, kisses it. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

  “Sterling-”

  He shushes me by putting a finger across my lips. “No more talk.”

  We spend the next hour making love, but in the morning he is gone. Over the next two weeks we fall into a routine. After dinner, I go to my room. An hour later, he joins me. Sometimes we talk and fall asleep. Sometimes all he wants to do is make love. I can’t deny him. Not anymore.

  The staff has to know. After all, there’s plenty of evidence he visits me every night. But not by so much as a glance or a word do I detect censure from them. If anything, the mood in the house has lightened. Where before no sounds could be heard, now I hear the occasional laughter. One morning outside my room, I run into a maid humming a song. And I even catch Moseley whistling while he polishes silver.

  But all that stops when I hear from Dr. Testa again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Caitlyn

  “You wanted to see me, Dr. Testa?” I ask.

  He extends his hand in greeting as I walk through the door to his office. A handsome man in his early fifties, who’d no doubt inherited his olive skin from his Italian ancestry. He sports a thin mustache, and his dark gaze shines bright on me. “Yes. Thank you for coming, Ms. Bennett.”

  “Is there a problem? Sterling-Mr. MacKay visited you, didn’t he?” I’d finally talked Sterling into making his appointment. That had been two days ago.

  He leans back and temples his hands above his lean stomach. Doctor types tend to be full of nervous energy, but he’s a restful sort of man.

  A good thing since my stomach has been doing somersaults ever since I heard from him. I dread what he has to say.

  “Yes. He came in. His situation has deteriorated.” He should know what he’s talking about since he’s a world-renown ophthalmologist who specializes in eye ailments. “We need to repair his optic nerve and reattach his retina, as well as reconstruct his eye sockets. Slivers of bone have done some major damage.”

  No wonder Sterling is in so much pain at times. “But you can fix it?”

  He sighs. “He’s refusing the surgery which means he’ll go completely blind. Within a matter of months, he won’t see even shadows anymore.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is he refusing the surgery?”

  Leaning forward, he fixes me with a steady stare. “This surg
ery carries a high degree of risk. If we’re not successful, he may lose whatever sight he has left.”

  “But he’ll lose it either way. Why is he being so stubborn?”

  He opens his hands. “If I may be frank, Ms. Bennett.”

  “Of course.”

  “He relies on you. You’ve apparently accepted him as he is. He thinks even if he loses all his vision, he’ll still have you. To be his ‘eyes’ if you wish.”

  “But that’s silly. He gets around the house just fine. He doesn’t need me for that. And I don’t accompany him to his office in D.C.”

  “I’m not talking about the physical world, it’s the world in the larger sense. During his last visit, I cautioned him about what to expect if he doesn’t have the surgery. I told him he would lose his sight. That’s when he opened up about your relationship. You discuss the topics of the day, read books aloud, watch television with him. You’re interpreting the world for him. As long as he has you, he doesn’t need to see. You’re his beacon in the darkness.”

  I do all of that, but that’s my job. Not everything, Caitlyn. Not the conversations in bed or the other things you do there. “I’m his personal assistant, that’s all.”

  He gazes kindly at me. “You’re more than that, Ms. Bennett.” But then he drives his point home. “As long as you’re around, he won’t have the surgery.”

  “What if”-I gulp-“What if I wasn’t there any more?”

  “He would be alone in the darkness. And that’s his greatest fear. I believe he would choose the surgical procedure then.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” I stand, shake his hand. “I have a lot to think about.”

  On the way back to the mansion, I mull over what he said. At work, Sterling has his computer, his assistants, his reading machine. And at home, he has me to take care of whatever he needs. Read, talk, make love. I’d solved all his vision problems for him which means for him to regain his sightI’ll need to leave him.

  Something seizes inside of me, a pain the likes of which I only felt once before. The day my mother died. I’d lost her. And now I’ll lose Sterling as well.

  During the next few days, I devise a plan sure to cause an unsurmountable rift between us. It needs to be unfixable because otherwise he’d find a way to keep me by his side. On Friday, when he arrives home from work and before dinner is served I ask to talk to him.

  Stepping into his office, the place where I first met him, he pulls me into him, kisses me. “Ummm, I needed that after the day I’ve had.”

  For a second, I’m tempted to ask him what happened, but that won’t do. Taking a deep breath, I say the words that can never, ever be taken back. “I’m leaving.”

  His brow wrinkles. “Leaving. Where are you going?”

  “New York.”

  He shakes his head as if he can’t quite comprehend what I’m saying. “Going shopping for the weekend?”

  “No. I’m moving there.”

  The smile I love so much disappears. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Stu, my boyfriend-”

  “You don’t have a boyfriend.” He spits out through clenched teeth.

  He’s right. But I can’t let him know. “Yes. I do. We never broke up. He found a job for me in New York City. Junior Financial Analyst in an investment firm. I start on Monday.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, nailed to the spot. His shoulders slump, the light dims in his beautiful eyes. Oh, God. I’ve hurt him. So much. Tears well in my eyes, but I can’t let on. I need to be strong, stronger than I’ve been my whole life. “I’ll need the rest of the money you owe me. I wrote a check for that amount.”

  That old gaze of his resurfaces. The one filled with anger and disdain. The one he wore when I first started working for him. “Damn you. I believed you. I believed in you.”

  My heart bleeds for him, for me. But I can’t break down in front of him. “The check’s on the desk. All you have to do is sign it.” I put a pen in his hand, guide him to the signature line on the check. He scribbles his name. It’s messy but readable.

  “Thank you, Sterling.” Wanting one last kiss, I step toward him.

  But he jerks back away from me. “Take your money and leave. You’ve earned it. I just didn’t know I was paying for the services of a whore.”

  With tears streaming down my face, I run out of the office. Moseley, who’s probably heard the argument, stands by the front door. “Ms. Bennett. You’re leaving?”

  “Yes. I must. Take care of him, Moseley. He’ll need you now more than ever.”

  “I will. For what it’s worth, you were good for him.”

  “And now I’ve hurt him. So much.” Angrily, I swipe at my tears.

  “Moseley.” Sterling’s scream reaches us all the way from his office.

  I drop my head as the tears flow down my cheeks. I can’t bear the pain.

  “Go, Miss. I’ll handle it.”

  “You always do.” I kiss him on the cheek and march out the mansion’s front door one last time toward the taxi waiting for me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sterling

  “You’ve changed your mind about the surgery?” Dr. Testa asks.

  “Yes.” It took but a week after Caitlyn left for me to come to my senses. With her gone, I find my life infinitely more difficult. She’d become not only my personal assistant but the way I’d viewed the world. Except it had all been a lie hadn’t it? She’d stayed with me only until a job she’d trained for came through. And I fell for her subterfuge like the idiot I am.

  “Good. We should schedule it as soon as possible.”

  “The stockholders’ meeting is this Friday. Other than that, my schedule’s clear. Just let me know the date.”

  After a series of tests and the usual pre-surgery procedures, the surgery is scheduled for the following week. At home, I enjoy one last dinner. Alone.

  “Surgery’s tomorrow,” I say to Moseley.

  “Yes, Sir. The staff and I wish you a successful surgery and a speedy recovery.”

  “Several nurses will be here for the first few days.” I’ll get round-the-clock care for three days and then only one will remain here and others on call. To help me acclimate to total blindness.

  “I’ve made arrangements. The room next to yours will be available for their supplies and such. And, of course, the staff will cooperate as much as they can.”

  “Thank you, Moseley. That will be all.” He leaves me in the dining room alone. I glance toward the chair where she sat recalling so many of our conversations. The way she spoke, her scent, the noises she made when she ate. She made me believe that she was good and kind when in reality she was like everyone else, a liar. Still, I miss her, even if she wasn’t real.

  Next morning the staff lines up in the corridor to wish me good luck. At the head of it, of course, is Moseley. I shake his hand. “Thank you, for everything.”

  The trip to the hospital is both too fast and too slow. But in reality it’s accomplished in less than an hour. It’s one of the best in the East Coast, if not the United States. And Dr. Testa is a world renowned eye surgeon. I’m truly in the best of care. Although the surgery takes several hours, for me it goes by in a flash, unconscious as I am. Late in the evening, I regain consciousness to find my temple and eyes wrapped in thick bandages. Total darkness surrounds me, but thankfully, I’m not alone.

  “Good evening, Sterling.” Dr. Testa says.

  Still groggy from the medication and disoriented from the lack of light, I don’t have much to say. “How did it go?”

  “There was more extensive damage than we expected.”

  My stomach plummets. “Will I gain more sight?” I’m not even asking for full vision, just something, anything to ward off the total darkness. I don’t want to be alone in the dark.

  “Only time will tell, but I’m … hopeful.”

  Hopeful, a lie to feed a blind man.

  Forty eight hours later, I’m home, surrounded by a trio of n
urses who make sure I eat and urinate. Within a day they have me walking around and leading me to the bathroom. There they leave me alone. Good thing because I sure as hell don’t want to depend on them to pee. They hand me a cane, but I surprise them when I move around my room knowing exactly where everything is without bumping into anything.

  A week later, at my first doctor’s appointment, the bandages come off. While they apply some liquid to my eyes, I keep them closed, but light filters through my eyelids which gives me hope.

  “Slowly now, open your eyes,” Dr. Testa says.

  I do, but a stab of light makes me shut them again.”

  “Try again.”

  I don’t know how to open my eyes slowly so I raise my hand and cover them to ward against the harsh light. When pain stabs again, I shut them.

  “Again, Sterling.”

  In fits and starts, I open and close my eyes, until finally, finally I can leave them open. And everything becomes clear to me. Dr. Testa, his nurse holding a bottle in her hand. The tray tables, old-fashioned eye chart.

  “Well?” Dr. Testa asks.

  “I can see!” I’m so surprised. A wave of emotion rolls over me and my eyes cloud with tears.

  “Splendid!” Dr. Testa says a big smile on his face. “We don’t want to tax your vision, so we’ll cover your eyes with a temporary bandage.”

  “I need to see.” I hate it that I sound so desperate.

  “You are, Sterling. But you have to give them time to heal. Wear the bandage two hours on, two hours off. If your eyes start to hurt, put the bandage back on and call me.”

  “Okay.”

  I follow his instructions to the letter. The following week he prescribes special glasses which will help filter the light. I must wear them all the time, but at least don’t have to wear the blasted bandage anymore. Over the next month, he allows me to read for an hour a day. He cautions me against over exerting my eyes. Although the surgery’s a success, I could easily slide back.

  Within three months, he approves my previous activities. But cautions me against hazardous sports. “We had to construct new eye sockets for you, my friend,” he says squeezing my shoulder. “We wouldn’t want all that beautiful work of mine to be destroyed. Eh?”