Secrets and Lies

by N. C. Anderson

  They stopped at the school entrance. Selena reached up and brushed the wet hair from his forehead, inspecting his tired, handsome facade. “Do you need a ride home?"

  Gregg shook his head. “Sonny's parents are treating us to pizza. They said they would drop me off."

  "Okay. I'm going over to the clinic for some exercise and a soak in their hot pool.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I'll most likely beat you home."

  Gregg surveyed her for several seconds. “We have a hot tub at home, Mom."

  Selena understood the frustrated tone in his voice and what he was getting at. “Ellie is waiting to give me a list of exercises I'm to do in the water.” She hesitated. “Don't worry about me."

  "Like you don't worry about me?” Gregg grumbled. He twirled his helmet in his hand as one of his pals tugged on his jersey and urged him to go into the school. “I have to go, Mom."

  "Yes,” she said, stepping away from him. “I'll see you in a little while."

  * * * *

  Patrick Logan was really into torture, Selena thought as she read the exercise list Ellie had handed her. She placed the paper on top the stool in the exam room and pulled on her two-piece bathing suit. The sturdy but worn suit, its blue and green colors, faded from the chemicals used in the hospital's hot tub and the one at home, served its purpose, and being beautiful wasn't it.

  After clipping her hair high off her neck she slipped gold-braided thongs on her feet, picked up the white towels Ellie had given her, and headed for the therapy room.

  She'd begun her workout tired, and fifteen minutes of duck-walking, heel-walking, toe-walking, sidestepping, and knee-bending in the waist-high water successfully depleted the remainder of her energy. Selena had no more than rested her head on the waterproof pillow at the edge of the pool when Ellie poked her head in the door.

  Ellie's expression looked serious. “I have a minor emergency at home, Selena. Will you be much longer?"

  "Go home, Ellie. I'm not staying long."

  "I can't leave anyone alone in here,” Ellie said hesitantly.

  "Don't fuss, Ellie. I'm a big girl, and I'm not sick or crippled."

  "Well, all right. Would you turn out all the lights, except the one at the front desk, and lock the door on your way out?"

  "Sure,” Selena answered sleepily. “You can count on me."

  Ellie wavered, her uncertainty more pronounced. “Maybe I shouldn't leave you alone."

  Selena waved a dripping hand in the air. “I won't stay in here longer than twenty minutes, Ellie. I promise, I'll be fine.” She'd been doing the hot tub routine for several months. She had it down pat. Don't have the water too hot. Don't stay in too long. And, of course—Don't be alone. But she wasn't going to make Ellie stay. Ellie had a family to take care of.

  "Okay, if you're certain?"

  "Go home, Ellie.” Selena glanced at her watch. “I'm out of here in fifteen minutes."

  When the door swung shut, Selena rested her head on the pillow, closing her eyes. Because she had nothing to listen to but the pulsating noise of the water jets, she succumbed to the pleasing warmth of the water, relaxing until she dosed off.

  She awoke to someone climbing into the pool near her, opened her eyes to slits, and forced herself to remain still.

  "You know,” he said complacently. “We have a strict rule about being alone in here."

  Selena raised her eyelids a touch further as she studied Logan closely. His broad shoulders were above water, and she had no idea what he was wearing under the waterline—if anything. “It's my fault. I told Ellie to go home."

  "Yes, but Ellie went home only because I've been here. You also told her you'd be out of here in fifteen minutes."

  Selena peeked at her watch. Her fifteen minutes were now forty-five. She shifted to a sitting position, spraying him when her body diverted the water surging from a jet. “Good heavens, how did that happen?” And how long had he been watching her?

  "I think you would call it, taking a nap."

  She started to move then so did he. His arm pinned her in place. “You looked mysteriously comfortable, and I decided to join you and make absolutely certain I wasn't missing something. I've just begun my fifteen minutes, Selena, and I wouldn't want to be left alone in here and break the rules. Besides, mysterious discovery is better shared."

  A tremor ran through her. Logan's hand had moved to the side of her neck, stroking, stimulating her heart to race. “I wouldn't want to be to blame if something should happen to you,” she breathed. “When did you eat last? I wouldn't want you to get cramps and drown.” She lifted her hand and caressed the dimpled grove in his cheek. He was near enough for her to see the dark flecks in his steel-gray eyes, see them dilate. Soon he would take her in his arms, and she would have found her way home.

  "I haven't had my dinner yet.” His tone became deeper, seductive, his gaze wandering leisurely to her breasts. “What do you hunger for, Selena?"

  What he wanted seemed clearly defined in his taut expression, the touch of his hand. He had the power to smash her heart. She wanted to scream and run for safety. At the same time she wanted to move closer, she wanted to run her fingers over him, to experience the sensations of him exploring her from neck to toe. “I don't know."

  Before she realized what was happening, Logan had her tucked snugly against him with her breasts molded to his side. “How about this for a start?” he asked huskily.

  As he shifted, she discovered he wore a bathing suit. “It's been a long time, Logan,” she whispered. Her throat felt constricted; her body aware of every inch of him, including the solid proof of his arousal throbbing against her thigh. “Somehow, this feels exactly right."

  "No commitments, no promises,” he said, his thumb teasing her lower lip.

  Selena recognized his warning. At least this time he could make an honest, thought-out declaration. “No obligations—no guarantees—every person for himself?” she murmured her question. She wanted nothing to do with his criterion; nevertheless, she had a hard time making it matter. It was the beginning she'd waited sixteen years to experience. It might be the gamble she needed to take.

  When Logan's mouth captured hers, she was waiting for him. Selena recalled the way he'd glanced over her while they'd walked the land he wanted to buy. He may have planned this the way he had sixteen years ago. However, she'd waited all these years to feel his hands on her again.

  Tomorrow Logan might snub her, crush her. This was today.

  Feeling his sensuous mouth claiming hers, the tenderness in his roving hands, the heat of his skin against her, was making it harder and harder to weigh her choices, let alone the possible consequences.

  Holding her transcended anything Logan had conjured up in his dreams. It had been sixteen years since a woman had smelled or tasted this delectable, and the realization awed Logan. Ellie said Selena had had a long, difficult day, and he'd started out wanting to hear what she'd been doing all day and why, but when her long, graceful fingers caressed his chest, the idea of talking became improbable.

  He might as well admit to himself that a conversation was not what he'd wanted.

  He'd studied her riot of curls secured atop her head, watched her sleep, watched the gentle rise and fall of her breasts in the water, remembered other times, other places. He'd climbed into the pool knowing he had to caress her, had to take her if she allowed it, and hoping to excise her from his life as cleanly as he could lift a tumor with a scalpel.

  He slipped his hand under her, searching for what fastened the scanty piece of fabric that hid her breasts from his sight. Aching to have their velvety softness, naked, and brushing his chest, he tossed the suit top on the edge of the pool and nestled her securely to him.

  Selena nibbled on his earlobe, sending a tremble along his spine. “This exercise,” she whimpered as he cupped her breast, running his thumb across the nipple, “isn't on the list Ellie gave me."

  He ran his tongue along the side of her neck, feeling h
er pulse pounding with excitement against it, remembering the terrific ways they'd made love together. “A mere oversight,” he groaned into the curve of her shoulder. “Nothing that can't be fixed."

  At the same time her fingers brushed against his swimming trunks he stroked slowly down her slender legs then slid his hand between her thighs. She pressed against his fingers eager and swollen, while her exquisite hands captured him through the fabric, setting him reeling with need.

  Logan pulled himself onto the wide seat built into the side of the pool, bringing her with him. The hot, silky water shot out from jets on either side of them, churning, tantalizing their skin, adding to Logan's building urgency as he stared at her.

  There, sitting on his lap with her little round bottom pressed against his thighs; her shoulder-length curls, escaping from the thing she'd pinned them with; her sienna eyes, glazed in desire; her mouth red, softened from his kisses; her breasts swollen, the nipples erect, luring him, was the erotic woman who haunted his dreams.

  Logan ran his fingers lightly across the scar on her knee. “You haven't really answered me, Selena,” he said, forcing himself to relax, to hold back, waiting for her to endorse a noncommittal liaison.

  Selena leaned forward and plied his lower lip with slow, faint kisses. “The hot water has taken the ache out of my hip,” she murmured. At this moment, Selena had no desire to deal with control, sound reasoning, or caution. “Now, I ache to feel you inside me. Please, Logan, don't make me wait any longer, please."

  Her tiny white teeth nipped at his lip as Logan slid his hands along her sides, lifting her back, enjoying the familiar sensations touching her brought back to him. “I have to go get some protection."

  "No need,” she said, trailing her fingers through the thick, curly hair on his chest, then down his abdomen, probing beneath the waistband of his trunks until she was cradling him in her hand. “I'm taking the pill."

  Something seemed wrong with that; only Logan didn't want to think about anything, other than how the first thrust into her, now, would blend them into one. But he held back, nuzzling first one rosy tipped breast then the other, listening to the soft moans coming from deep in her throat as she tensed. Selena's head tipped back, her spine arched.

  This was not working the way Logan wanted it to. Instead of excising Selena and his memories, he was quickly becoming more addicted to her.

  Her fingers held him, stroked him as their breathing increased, their heartbeats, accelerating. Then Selena leaned forward, still holding him, and her mouth moved in short sucking kisses on his neck until he took her face in his hands and kissed her long and deep. “You continue with this, and you might find there's no way out,” he informed her gruffly.

  "An ominous warning if I ever heard one,” Selena said throatily while she brushed him against her, invitingly. She hungered for him to fill her, take away the empty feeling; tomorrow would be soon enough to think about a “way out."

  Considering the years of her aggravating his dreams, he'd hungered for her a very long time, and Logan could take no more. He lifted her with him and moved to the exercise mat beside the pool.

  When he kissed her, he found her tongue waiting eagerly. Logan shuddered as her fingertips caressed his nipples, and he wanted to know immediately if their lovemaking would still be as incredible as his dreams made him remember. But she hadn't yet really agreed to his no-strings proposal. If she didn't, his only choice was to walk away.

  Physically and mentally struggling with his affinity for Selena, he rolled from her and drew her comfortably to his side. She fit perfectly; however, she wasn't perfect. “You've learned a lot through the years, Selena,” he said, his breathing, labored. He'd tried, but he couldn't keep the tight anger out of his voice. The thought of an old man teaching her passion was hard for him to accept. “And, you still haven't answered me."

  Selena lifted her head from his shoulder, balancing on one elbow. She stared at him, trying to deal with her confusion, with the sudden shift in his mood. “I'd say you were the one with all the experience.” She raised her hand and touched his lower lip. “I've been trying to go along with your no-promises stand.” Selena hesitated, her head clearing, and at least halfway against her will, her sanity returning. “But, I can't do it, Logan,” she said, her voice, faltering, husky. “I find I have an aversion to dead-ends."

  He should accept her answer, stand up, politely excuse himself, and forget how she felt in his arms, the sound of her voice.... He couldn't. Not yet. Logan grabbed her hand. “How much, Selena?” She was an impressive performer. Her skin paled, and she appeared startled.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "How much will it cost me for you to live with me?"

  Selena yanked her hand from his grip and backed away from him. Her gaze never abandoned his as she reached out for a towel, wrapped it around her, and snatched up her wet bathing suit top.

  "You don't have enough money to buy me, Logan,” she said, her tone unwavering, gravelly. “But, I do have a price."

  He sat up, watching her, disregarding the enticing picture she made, and his desire to pull her back into his arms. “No commitments, remember? If it's marriage, I can't afford it. You had a husband with more money than I do, and look what happened to him."

  Selena's body jerked; her hands clenched tightly to her abdomen as if he'd kicked her. Then her eyes widened, filling rapidly with huge tears.

  Remorse came just as abruptly. “I'm sorry, Selena, I didn't mean that.” And he hadn't meant it. The words had startled him as much as her. Distrust and jealousy had loosened his tongue, allowing him to hurt her. Only now, Logan couldn't stand the anguish on her lovely features. When she spoke, he heard none of the fury he'd expected in her tone.

  The large teardrops overflowed, spilling onto her now heated cheeks, yet she couldn't look away. “Living together would mean a commitment, and the price you mentioned is only half of it,” she said slowly, softly. “I'm not certain you could ever come close to producing the rest."

  Unconsciously she rubbed her hip as she limped toward the door. “By the way,” she said without stopping, her heart aching for him, for herself. “My X rays are on your desk. You can keep them. Let's just say they're souvenirs—no, perhaps, payment for your services.” If embarrassing, impossible conversation could be considered a service. Yet, something didn't seem right. She wanted to be furious, wanted to relieve her fury by yelling at the top of her lungs, but something wasn't right.

  Logan dragged a towel around him, but he didn't follow Selena. Instead, he turned off the pool jets, and went to his office. If he was to follow her, he wouldn't know which he would do first, shake her—or comfort her.

  He hated the way she could entangle his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do right now was lay himself open to her witchcraft by touching her again. And since marriage was only half her price, his family assets were most likely the other half. Selena Flynn was an extravagance he couldn't afford.

  As he buttoned his shirt, he noticed a note on his desk from Ellie. It read: By seven-thirty tonight we've collected thirty thousand dollars on the raffle tickets. You'd better thank Selena for this. She's also worked two days pulling this community together for a bazaar and rummage sale to benefit the clinic. You wouldn't believe the number of artists and crafters that are calling in from all over the state to volunteer their help.

  He flung the note back on the desk. “Selena's working hard, all right, but it's not on the community,” he grumbled to the air surrounding him.

  Selena McRae Flynn wove her sublime magic around him with greater verve than ever, and Logan didn't have the slightest idea what he could do about it—that he even wanted to do anything about it.

  * * * *

  And she'd thought Logan would at least wait until tomorrow before showing regret, confusion, distrust—she didn't know what to label his behavior.

  Darned, obstinate man. If it kills me, Selena thought. I'm going to understand what makes Patrick Logan ti
ck. She brushed the tears from her cheeks; her mind still hearing his cutting words; her body still mesmerized from Logan's sweet lovemaking.

  After shoving her wet bathing suit into her gym bag, she tugged on her jeans, then slipped her arms into her shirt sleeves. The delicious manner he'd used to kiss her, caress her, outrageously contradicted his words. While Logan was touching her, he seemed almost desperate in what he needed from her; then, he looked angry and didn't want her—unless, perhaps, she agreed to play house.

  Logan didn't seem to know what he really wanted; at any rate Selena planned on helping him to make up his mind. Neither of them could live peacefully in this town until he did. She crept out of the exam room and past Logan's office. A light filtered out from beneath his door, and sounds of him shuffling papers came from inside. Selena made for the parking lot, where she dug in her purse for her keys, opened the door of her Mercedes, and tossed her bag on the back seat.

  When she started her car, she could have sworn she heard another engine come to life. Selena glanced at the parking lot and across the street, but saw nothing. Usually by nine-thirty at night, hardly a sound could be heard in Valencia Cove—hardly a car roved its streets. This was the first occasion for her to suffer uneasiness about being alone on the little town's dark streets. Selena didn't understand why her nerves seemed to skim the surface of her skin, however when an eerie chill patterned the length of her spine, she stepped on the gas and drove for home.

  Streetlights were not part of the foothill road scenery. The road Selena lived on was ten miles of twists and hairpin turns. As she guided her car around the last hairpin, car lights suddenly appeared in her rearview mirror, and they were moving fast.

  Selena yanked her steering wheel, manipulating her car into a short, graded turn off, using the mountain custom of always allowing the faster vehicle to go around. She skidded to a stop in a cloud of dirt, trying to let the idiot, who was now riding her bumper, pass.

  Only, he didn't.

  Instead, a black limousine cut in front of her at an angle then stopped, blocking her in solid. Whoever it was, didn't leave her an inch to maneuver. If she backed her car in a straight line, she would hit a fence.