by Meryl Sawyer
“Admit it, Dexx, you need me.”
One arm still around his neck, she unzipped his trousers with her free hand. Skillful fingers homed in on his cock. In an instant she had him as hot and hard as any of the technical assistants.
He hated her for it.
As she stroked him, a plan crystallized in his mind. Take advantage of the situation; don’t give her any reason to be suspicious.
He grabbed her hand. “You’re right. I do need you, and in more ways than one. Let’s get married on Key West.”
Her eyes smoldered like coals on the devil’s hearth. “Really?”
“Yes, Irene.” Christ. She was pathetically happy. “Since we’ve been kids, we’ve both known that we belonged together, true?”
“Yes, but sometimes I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”
“Why would I want to get rid of you? You’re smart and sexy. I just needed to sow a few wild oats. I always used pros because my heart belonged to you.”
With that outrageously clever lie, he took her standing up. It was the best fuck he’d ever had. By now he’d mastered the technique. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Amy.
Chapter 21
“You have much more mobility in your fingers than you had at our first session,” the physical therapist commented as he finished her latest treatment.
“Yes,” she agreed.
She could flex her fingers slightly, but her hand wasn’t usable yet. She thanked the therapist and left his office above the Gato Gordo Café. Matt was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his world-weary eyes studying her intently.
What was he doing here? Three nights ago he’d left her room abruptly, and she hadn’t seen him since. He’d deliberately avoided her, which was just as well. Every time she thought about what had happened, her embarrassment grew.
A savage, dark tension sharpened the angular planes of his face as he asked, “How’s your hand?”
“Better,” she answered, a cottony dryness in her mouth. She reached the bottom step and paused. “What are you doing here?”
“We have an appointment with Dr. Holt.”
“We? Why?”
He reached for her good hand and brought her down onto the sidewalk beside him. His eyes, so frighteningly intense, sought hers. Their gazes met and locked. A silence fraught with emotions too complex for her to understand stretched between them.
Finally he spoke. “I made the appointment because I’m as screwed up as you are. I tried for days, but I can’t get you out of my mind.”
The emotional aftershock of having him walk out hurt her much more than she cared to admit At first she’d been stunned, then a gnawing emptiness had set in. She didn’t know what he was up to now, but she wasn’t playing any more games.
“Jensen, this sounds like a personal problem to me.” She jerked her hand out of his. “See Peter. I’m sure he can help you.”
Her voice cracked just slightly, undermining the words. She didn’t want him to suspect how thrilled she was to know he’d been thinking about her, or how miserable she’d been.
“Let’s be honest here. We’re attracted to each other. Hell, more than attracted.”
She tried to make her lips smile as she gave a careless little shrug as if his words didn’t mean a thing to her. “Face it, Jensen. You’re experiencing an overload of testosterone. That’s all. Pick up a willing female at one of the bars along Duval. Or, better yet, check into one of the clothing optional guest houses.”
“Can’t you be serious? If I thought sex was the answer, I’d be happy.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair. “But I find myself wanting to talk to you and take you places … and just be with you.”
For a moment she wasn’t certain she believed him. The fickle trade winds riffled through the nearby palms. The hollow rush of the wind echoed the yearning deep in her soul.
“What are you saying?” The words burst from her lips.
“I want to be with you, Shelly.”
There was no mistaking the gruff affection in his voice. An invisible skein of tension wrapped around them, drawing them closer.
“You do?” she asked.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. His gaze roved slowly across her face, unmistakable tenderness in his eyes. Her throat closed up, and she had to look away.
“I’m crazy about you.”
“You’re crazy about me?” she asked, testing him, half afraid he was teasing. “Jensen, you do have a problem.”
“Matt or Matthew. Not Jensen.”
“Okay … Matt.”
Her voice creaked like a rusty hinge. How many times had lonesomeness built up inside her and she would yearn for something. For someone. But nothing was there for her except a vast emptiness that went on forever. God help her, this man was what she’d been missing during those long, lonely years when she’d been The Beast.
He cupped her jaw with his strong hand, and a shadow passed over his face, his eyes darkening. He lowered his mouth to hers. The instant their lips met, every inch of her body ached for more. She wrapped both arms around him, giving in to her own pent-up desire.
He broke the kiss, his eyes squeezed shut as if bracing himself for a blow. He opened his eyes, saying, “See what I mean? We need professional help.”
She didn’t protest when he led her to the corner and flagged down a rickie. She didn’t have much time with him, she decided. Why not enjoy herself now?
Soon her hand would be better, and she would have to leave. During the last few days she’d come to the conclusion that her only alternative was to contact the FBI again. They hadn’t been able to protect her before, but knowing how dangerous Dexxter Foxx was, they would surely be more careful now.
She wanted to see Dexxter punished for what he’d done. As much as she would like to stay on Key West and enjoy her new life, she had a responsibility. Justice would corner the shifty little weasel.
Matt pointed to the decorations going up on Duval Street. “Tomorrow begins the Fantasy Fest that’s held each year the week before Halloween. It’s like Mardi Gras with costume balls and a fantasy parade that’s too far out to be described.”
“I’d like to see it.”
His adorable grin made her want to throw her arms around him again. “We’re going to watch it together. Trevor booked the whole balcony at La-Te-Da. That way we can see everything without being crushed by the crowd.”
Making plans to do things together seemed so … right. It was a feeling that she never would have experienced if her life hadn’t taken an unexpected turn.
“Is this it?” Matt asked her when the rickie driver stopped.
“Yes. Dr. Holt practices out of his home.” She couldn’t wait until Matt met the doctor. She would bet anything that Trevor hadn’t told Matt about Peter.
He helped her out of the rickie, and she braced herself. She wasn’t certain why Matt insisted they both see the doctor, but his remark about her obsessive behavior being a result of having her entire family die made her suspect he was seeking an excuse to forgive her. Fine. She was sick of pretending she was a nutcase. She wanted a way out of this.
When Dr. Holt came to the door wearing a navy linen dress, she decided to spare Matt. “Peter, this is Matthew Jensen.”
The doctor greeted them, holding the door open, and they went inside. If Matt was shocked, he didn’t show it. They sat in the airy living room where she had talked with Peter on her first visit.
“On the phone you said the two of you have a problem,” Peter told Matt. “Tell me about it.”
They were sitting on the love seat opposite Peter. Matt gazed at her, and she realized he expected her to say something.
“I’m fine. Matt has the problem.”
He flashed her a look she couldn’t quite decipher, then patted her shoulder as if she were a young child. “Shelly is still in a delusional state.”
“I am not! If you think I’m so nutty, why did you say you were crazy about me?”
Pet
er asked, “Did you say that?”
“Sure. I am crazy about Shelly.” Matt held up his hands as if surrendering. “I’m not saying I don’t have a problem too. That’s why I wanted you to see us together.”
“What do you think your problem is?” Peter asked Matt.
Two beats of silence, then Matt shrugged. “I can’t stop thinking about Shelly no matter how hard I try. I know better. This is the woman who threatened my sister.” He paused, leaning forward. “Still, I can’t seem to help myself.”
Yes! cheered The Beast. The man of her dreams did truly care about her. He was fighting it hard, but he couldn’t resist her. They were meant for each other.
In a perfect world, things would have been different.
But she wasn’t living a fairy-tale life. The FBI might snatch her away and leave her stowed somewhere for months and months while they made a case against Dexxter. All she had was here and now.
Dr. Holt seemed perplexed. “What’s troubling you?”
“I don’t want to be so … so attracted to a woman who threatened my sister. Emily took over when my mother died. I was just thirteen, and she raised me. If not for her, I probably would be in a prison somewhere.”
It was obvious how much he loved his sister. She’d longed for a sibling, someone who would love her and not judge her by the horrid birthmark. How could she continue to pretend she’d threatened his sister?
“Shelly …”
Dr. Holt’s voice hung in the air. She tried to play the part. “My family … they were all killed when the ValuJet crashed into the Everglades.”
She thought about her mother’s death for a moment, hoping it would help her strike the right emotional note. “Suddenly, everyone I loved was gone. I was all alone. Then Matt came along. I-I guess I needed someone to love so much that I got carried away.”
Matt was gazing at her intently, as if weighing every word.
“The next thing I knew I was in the hospital, near death, unable to utter a single word. I had been blessed with a second chance at life. I promised myself that I would be a better person. If Matt didn’t love me any longer, then I would just have to accept that fact.”
Matt slowly shook his head, assailed by a terrible sense of defeat. Could anyone possibly help Shelly? Sometimes she seemed so sweet and innocent, then she would slip into her fantasy world again. All they’d had was one lousy date, then she’d deluded herself into believing he loved her.
It defied all logic, but he was drawn to her in a way that he had never been attracted to another woman. He’d walked out the other night, having come damn close to making love to her. She’d stopped him by saying they had once made love on the beach.
He’d never made love to her. Period. He’d kissed her a couple of times, and it hadn’t been particularly memorable.
After Shelly had suddenly disappeared from his life, he had received very bad news that changed his world. His whole outlook changed overnight. He learned how devastating the prospect of death could be and how it altered your life.
Death.
It was final, irrevocable. The land of no more tomorrows. Facing death changed people. His own experience prompted him to give up the job he loved. Shelly could have made just as radical a change.
Could have.
Shelly claimed to have gotten over her obsession, but obviously she hadn’t. She still clung to delusions about an affair with him. In a remarkably short time he’d come to care about her. Despite his gut-wrenching sense of frustration, he wanted to help her in any way he could.
“Shelly,” he began. “What made you think I once loved you? Did I ever tell you that?”
Her shoulders hunched forward slightly as he spoke. She didn’t respond. Instead, Shelly cast a furtive glance at the doctor.
Peter didn’t say a thing. It was probably some technique shrinks used, but it made him uncomfortable. What a crock! The seconds ticked by.
Finally, he gave up on the transvestite doctor and said, “Shelly, we can’t help you unless you cooperate. Don’t you want to get well?”
The soulful look in her blue eyes could have melted the devil’s heart. “Of course I do.”
“Then admit the truth. I never said I loved you. We had one date. That’s all. We never made love anywhere.” He tried for a reassuring smile, then added, “Although the surf could be interesting.”
The color leached from one side of her face, and for an instant he thought she was going to cry. She stared at him, transfixed. Then she threw back her head, sending her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, and burst out laughing.
Aw, hell. She was a hopeless mental case. “What’s so funny?”
She was still laughing, although it was more of a choking sound now, and humor was not reflected in her eyes. “I’m laughing at myself for being such a fool,” she said tentatively, as if testing the idea. “How could I manage to spin one lousy date into such an elaborate fantasy? I guess I must have wanted it to be true so badly that I made up things.”
There is a God, he decided. Shelly was coming to grips with her problem.
“Elaborate delusions are typical of this type of obsession,” the doctor told her. “Since the accident, have you experienced new delusions?”
“No, not at all.”
“Now, Shelly,” Matt said as gently as he could. After all, they were on the verge of a breakthrough here. “Just the other night you mentioned the beach and Bermuda.”
“Trust me, it was a slip,” she said with a smile that he interpreted as almost defiant. “I had that fantasy in New York when it was snowing, and I saw a travel poster.”
He wasn’t quite sure he believed her. There was something odd about her expression.
“Shelly, have you stalked Matt since the accident?” Dr. Holt asked.
“No, absolutely not.”
The doctor adjusted his skirt, looking at Matt for verification.
“She’s telling the truth.” He thought for a moment, then added, “If anything, I’ve followed her around. I guess there are degrees of obsession.”
“Right,” Peter said. “Mental health is a journey, not a destination. All of us are a little bit off.”
No one would dispute that.
“Do you think it’s safe for us to spend time together?” he asked the doctor.
“I have absolutely no idea,” Peter conceded. “I’ve never heard of a case like this.” The doctor rose, signaling the session was over. “What I would like to do is stay in touch with you both. I’d like to document this case for Mental Health Today. It’s one for the books.”
No kidding.
Outside Dr. Holt’s home, the late afternoon sun blazed across the deep blue sky with nothing more than scrims of clouds to break the heat. Amy’s whole body was sheened by sweat, but not from the weather. From the instant she realized the true nature of Rochelle Ralston’s relationship with Matt, she’d been scrambling to excuse her actions, her anxiety mounting until perspiration dripped from every pore.
Who would have thought Shelly had made up everything she’d written in the journal? The account had been so incredibly detailed. Granted, she had known Shelly was obsessed and had behaved outrageously, but the woman had been deranged.
When the light dawned, she hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry with utter relief. She wasn’t going to have to guard her every move. Matt didn’t know Shelly nearly as well as she had assumed.
“Shelly, let’s go back into town,” Matt said. “There’s something I want to get.”
Matt took her hand and they walked down the block. He stopped under the shade of an enormous gumbo limbo tree. He took her face in both his hands. He pressed his lips to hers, caressing her mouth more than kissing it. He gazed into her eyes with the kind of compassion she never dreamed she would see in a man.
“I’m so proud of you. I know it took a lot to admit you’d been lying.”
She almost laughed, but he was so adorably earnest and genuinely concerned about her. Trying to ap
pear contrite, her enormous sense of relief blossomed into anticipation. Since he’d never made love to Shelly, there was no reason not to let him make love to her. At the thought, her pulse took a perilous leap.
Matt put his arm around her and headed toward the center of town, checking his long stride to match hers. As they went, they talked about the upcoming Fantasy Fest. Trevor and Clive were throwing a costume ball. Matt suggested they go as Antony and Cleopatra. She agreed, but then, she was so happy that she would have agreed to almost anything.
Duval Street was bustling with the lighthearted revelry that went on around the clock. Music blared from the bars that opened at breakfast. As sunset approached, the whoopla reached a fever pitch.
“We’re going to have to do something about your T-shirts,” Matt said.
“Go on. You can’t mean you don’t like this.”
She pointed to her chest. The shirt read:
DON’T SWEAT THE PETTY STUFF
PET THE SWEATY STUFF
“I’ll have you know this T-shirt was a real bargain. Twenty-five cents.”
“What a ripoff. They should have paid you to take it.” His tone was a little gruff. “Besides, it gives other guys the wrong idea.”
Glory be. He sounded a little protective. After years of fending for herself, she liked being in a man’s care.
Not just any man, she thought as they passed Huevos Grande. A man was sitting at one of the tables, his hairy spare tire of a belly lopping over his swim trunks. He was gobbling food like a bear foraging in a dump and leering at her.
She knew what his look meant. Even if he’d been a major hunk, she wouldn’t have welcomed his stare, but she didn’t avert her eyes either. Yes! cried a little voice inside her. She was slowly changing.
Matt stopped in front of Proud Mary’s. “What do you think of that dress?”
A lime-green slip dress hung on the mannequin. The silk was covered by another layer of sheer lace. It was simple, yet dramatic.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a dress quite like it.”