Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge

by Amanda Stevens

  Everything about Simon was a perfect match for Penelope. A perfect fit.

  So why had he changed his mind? she wondered in despair.

  The phone rang, and she stared at it for a moment, thinking that it was probably her mother, in which case, she absolutely would not answer under any circumstances.

  Of course, it might be Simon, a little voice goaded her, and without bothering to check the caller ID, Penelope scrambled for the phone before he decided to hang up.

  “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

  “Penelope,” said her mother.

  Buzz kill, Penelope thought. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Are you okay? You sound a little strange.”

  Penelope closed one eye and stared into the empty champagne bottle, which, for some reason, she still clutched by the neck. “I’m fine. And you?”

  Her mother’s sigh was one of sorely tested patience. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Penelope. You’ve just suffered a terrible humiliation. I understand what you’re going through.”

  She couldn’t possibly. “Why are you calling, Mom?”

  “Your father and I were wondering if we should come over—”

  “No! Absolutely not. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine…” Was she slurring her words? Penelope couldn’t tell. “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand. I’m…fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” her mother insisted. “How could you be, after what you’ve been through? I saw your face when you realized he wasn’t going to show. You were devastated, poor baby. Absolutely destroyed, and who could blame you?”

  Was that a note of glee she heard in her mother’s voice?

  She probably wasn’t being fair, Penelope decided. After all, it wasn’t her mother’s fault that Simon had dumped her. Nor was it Athena’s fault that her third daughter possessed the sex appeal of a two-day-old mackerel, because sex appeal practically oozed from Athena’s genes.

  “When I think about what he did to you, honestly, I’d like to smack him myself. And you would think someone in his position, an accountant, for God’s sake, would be grateful for the opportunity—”

  Penelope only half listened as her mother prattled on, but she couldn’t help wondering just exactly what her mother considered Simon’s greatest sin—the fact that he’d jilted her daughter or that he was a little too conventional for such an illustrious family.

  Not for Penelope, of course. She’d thought Simon Decker the most fascinating man alive, but then, she’d actually taken the time to get to know him. Or so she’d thought.

  “Look, Mom, I appreciate your concern, but I just want to be alone right now.”

  Her mother hesitated. “You won’t do anything…rash, will you?”

  “No, Mom.” When had she ever done anything rash? The overly dramatic Cassandra might resort to histrionics now and then, and of course, Helen had elevated hissy fits to an art form. But Penelope? She’d get drunk, have a good cry and then get on with her life. Such as it was.

  “If you need anything, you’ll call?”

  “I’ll call.”

  Her motherly duties over and done with, Athena hung up in relief. She’d never been the nurturing sort, and, in spite of what she’d said, there was no way she could relate to what Penelope was going through.

  Still clinging to the empty champagne bottle, Penelope staggered out to the balcony. The night was warm and balmy, and she drew a deep breath as she turned her face skyward.

  In another month, Houston would be unbearable, but tonight the breeze blowing through the palm trees in the courtyard reminded Penelope of the tropics. And that reminded her of her honeymoon, and she started to weep.

  Impatiently, she wiped away the tears. She didn’t want to give in to her emotions. A crying jag was just too exhausting, and besides, if she allowed herself to fall apart, she’d spend the rest of the night blubbering. Right now the champagne had numbed her, and she wanted to wallow in that anesthetized cocoon for as long as she could before the real pain set in.

  A trash can clanged in the nearby alley, and Penelope started as she peered into the darkness.

  Her neighbor’s huge calico was always finding a way out of the apartment at night, and he loved to prowl the alley.

  “Freddy, is that you?” Penelope called softly.

  Normally, when he heard her voice, the cat would bound over the brick wall into the courtyard, and then climb up the trellis to her balcony where he’d noisily demand some of the treats she kept for him in her apartment.

  Tonight, however, he ignored her.

  “Freddy?” she called more insistently.

  Something moved in the courtyard, and Penelope caught her breath. Someone was down there, all right, but it wasn’t Freddy. She could just make out the silhouette of a man where he blended into the darkness.

  Then she saw Freddy. He was perched on the wall, and as Penelope watched, the man lifted his hand and scratched behind the cat’s ears.

  Freddy would never have stood for that. Not from a stranger.

  Whoever was in the courtyard was someone the cat knew and trusted.

  Penelope’s heart began to pound. “Simon?” she whispered. “Is it you?”

  He stepped back, disappearing more deeply into the shadows, and suddenly Penelope became aware of something else. For a moment, the premonition of danger was almost overwhelming.

  Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation vanished.

  But Penelope hurried back into the apartment and locked the doors just the same.

  THE PHONE AWAKENED her sometime later. Penelope had fallen asleep on her sofa, and now as she reached for the phone, she rolled off the edge of the seat and landed with a thud on the hardwood floor.

  Rubbing the back of her head, she dragged the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Penelope Moon?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Fran Draper from St. Mary’s Hospital.”

  “Who? Where?” Penelope asked thickly.

  “I’m sorry to be calling so late, but someone did try to notify you earlier. Evidently you were out and it’s hospital policy not to leave this kind of message on an answering machine…”

  Fear tightened around Penelope’s heart. What did she mean by this kind of message?

  She tried to swallow past the panic rising in her throat. “What is it? Why are you calling?”

  “Do you know a man named Simon Decker?”

  Penelope bolted upright as she clutched the phone. “Simon? What’s happened? Is he all right?”

  “Your phone number was among his personal effects.”

  Everything inside Penelope went cold and still with dread. “Oh, God. Is he—”

  “He’s alive,” the woman quickly assured her. “But it doesn’t look good. If I were you, I’d get here as quickly as possible.”

  Chapter Three

  Two months after the accident, Simon lingered in a coma. The doctors were baffled. His vitals were strong, he was off the ventilator, and the brain scans detected no severe or permanent damage. It was as if he’d fallen into a deep sleep from which he refused to awaken.

  But his very survival was a miracle in itself. Penelope had seen his car, and she honestly didn’t understand how anyone could have been pulled alive from that mangled wreckage.

  The one-vehicle accident occurred in the southbound lane of I-45 a few miles north of Houston, which seemed to indicate that Simon had been coming in from Dallas when he somehow lost control of his car.

  The vehicle, traveling at a high speed, plunged through a guardrail and rolled down an embankment before smashing into a utility pole. Simon had been taken by life flight to St. Mary’s, a level-one trauma center, where a team of doctors had worked valiantly for hours to save him.

  He was speeding because he hadn’t wanted to be late for their wedding, Penelope decided in those first tense hours in the ICU waiting room. He hadn’t wanted to worry her even for a moment. That was the kind of man he was. So sweet and thoughtful. Always consid
erate of her feelings.

  Her first glimpse of him had been like a fist in her gut. A series of tubes and machines monitored his vitals and assisted his breathing while an IV supplied medication and fluids. His face was bruised and battered and a large bandage wrapped around his skull.

  He looked so pale and wounded lying there, and yet even at his most vulnerable, he’d possessed a kind of strength and vitality that made him appear invincible.

  Penelope had sat at his bedside and held his hand, murmuring how much she loved him. How much she needed him.

  And later in the chapel, when she seemed incapable of forming a coherent prayer, she’d found herself whispering over and over, “Please wake up. Please, please, please…”

  In the ensuing days, Penelope had become a permanent fixture at the hospital, refusing to leave even when Simon’s father arrived and displayed a surprising and inexplicable hostility toward her.

  She’d stayed on even when she wasn’t allowed in Simon’s room, because what if something happened to him while she was away? She’d never be able to forgive herself.

  Eventually, however, she’d had to go back to work. Museum positions were few and far between, and she couldn’t risk losing her job. Her boss, Avery Bennett, had been more than generous with her, but ongoing negotiations with several private collectors in Mexico required him to travel frequently. And since the museum was currently undergoing renovations, someone in a position of authority needed to be available in order to make the last-minute decisions that inevitably cropped up during construction. It was virtually impossible for both Avery and Penelope to be away at the same time.

  And to further complicate matters, Simon’s father had decided to transfer him to a private rehabilitation facility in Dallas so that he could be with him on a daily basis.

  The move had devastated Penelope. The Morehart was so close to the medical center in Houston that, even after she’d gone back to work, she was able to visit Simon on her lunch breaks and every day after work.

  But because things were so hectic at the museum, it was impossible for her to make it up to Dallas more than twice a month. And Allen Decker had put further restrictions on the time she spent with his son by requiring that she call before she came to insure that her presence wouldn’t interfere with Simon’s physical therapy.

  Now, however, as she pulled into the long driveway of the Fairhaven Rehabilitation Center, Penelope tried not to dwell on the negatives. She hadn’t seen Simon in nearly two weeks, and even though she called the facility every day to check on his condition, she was anxious to see if there’d been any progress since the last time she’d been there.

  Wheeling into her usual spot in the parking lot, she got out, locked her car and, as she started toward the nondescript building, she smoothed away wrinkles from her sleeveless blue dress. As always, she wanted to look her best for Simon.

  Checking in at the front desk, she headed back to his room, which was on the ground floor with a window that overlooked a sunny little garden.

  As she walked through the door, Penelope’s heart fluttered as it always did at the sight of her fiancé. After two months, one might expect that his body would have started to deteriorate, but a rigorous regimen of physical therapy had kept him looking healthy and fit. He might only have been sleeping, Penelope thought once again as she crossed the room and bent to kiss him.

  Someone had neglected to shave him that morning, and his beard scratched her face as she pressed her cheek against his.

  The five-o’clock shadow made him look even more robust and masculine, Penelope decided. As did the strand of brown hair that fell across his forehead. Tenderly she smoothed it back.

  For a moment, she almost expected him to open those gorgeous blue eyes and smile that lazy half smile she knew so well. She could almost imagine the touch of his hand as he pulled her to him, the feel of his mouth against hers as he kissed her in that slow, deliberate way he had.

  Slow and deliberate. Yes, that was Simon’s style. He could be so maddeningly cautious. So…reserved when at times what Penelope had secretly wanted was for him to walk into her office, throw everything off her neatly organized desk and take her, right then and there, with the door unlocked to boot.

  Of course, she’d never told him about that fantasy. Simon wasn’t the risky sort, and he never lost control. Never. Not once.

  Oh, he was passionate. And quite a skilled lover, even though…

  Well, no use dwelling on that.

  None of that mattered anyway. What mattered was how much she loved him. And what she would give to have him well again.

  Penelope pulled up a chair and settled in. “What shall we talk about today?” she said cheerily. “I know you’re probably tired of hearing about work, but that pretty much consumes my life these days. It’s the only thing that keeps me going when I’m away from you.”

  She took his hand and drew his palm up to her lips as she watched his face. No reaction.

  “Anyway, there’s so much going on at the museum right now. The general contractor has promised the renovations will be completed before the gala benefit and live auction on Saturday night, but I’m not holding my breath. You know how it is with construction.

  “And to top it all off, Avery will be in Mexico until Thursday or Friday. Remember that private collector I told you about last time I was here? Manuel Vargas? We’re in the final stages of negotiations with him, and it looks very promising. The collection has never been viewed by the public so it’ll be quite a coup for the museum if we can pull this off. He has examples from all the major Mesoamerican civilizations, and at least two of the Olmec masks date back to 1200 B.C. But I think the Andean pieces are my favorites. The intricacy of the gold work is breathtaking.”

  Penelope’s gaze was still on Simon’s face as she shifted in her chair, making herself more comfortable. “Let’s see, what else is new? Oh, yes, Cassandra is off on another trek through the rain forest, and I think she and Dad had some kind of blowup before she left. I don’t know what it was about, but the whole family is acting kind of strange these days. Mother is being all secretive, and there’s some kind of tension between Helen and Grayson.”

  Penelope scoured Simon’s face. “You probably don’t care about any of this, do you?” she murmured. “I wonder if you can even hear me. If you realize how much I still love you. That hasn’t changed, you know. If anything…” Her words trailed off as tears formed behind her lids.

  Penelope tried to keep her visits with Simon as upbeat as possible, but sometimes it was hard not to show her emotions. Sometimes it was hard not to let her fears consume her. What if he never woke up? How was she supposed to get on with her life without him?

  Already her family was trying to persuade her to do just that. Oh, they didn’t come right out and say it in so many words, of course, but lately, both her mother and Helen had been tossing around some not-so-subtle hints that perhaps Penelope should start getting out more.

  Her mother had even ambushed her with a blind date, although she claimed it was no such thing. The fact that Penelope and Dr. Doug Fairchild, who worked at the clinic with her father and had once dated Helen, had turned up at the same intimate dinner party had been nothing more than a happy coincidence. Right.

  Helen had tried to pull the same stunt with Alejandro Salizar, her husband’s handsome business partner, but luckily Penelope had gotten wind of the setup beforehand and nixed the whole idea.

  It was an unusual position for her to be in, turning down so many attractive and eligible suitors, but Penelope had no doubt that both Doug and Alex had ulterior motives or they never would have allowed themselves to be ensnared by her mother and sister’s matchmaking.

  When Penelope had finally caught on to what they were up to, she’d invited Athena and Helen to lunch and over dessert had made it clear that she still considered herself engaged and thoroughly committed to Simon. She did not appreciate their meddling one little bit.

  “Darling, we’re just t
rying to get you out of that dreary museum now and then. An evening out won’t kill you,” her mother had insisted. “In fact, it’ll do you a world of good. You’ve been under such duress lately. What you really should do is take a little holiday. Don’t you agree, Helen?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” her dazzling sister had rushed to concur. “Just a little trip to get away from it all for a few days. Go someplace fun. Relax in the sun. Swim. Snorkel. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

  Penelope’s eyes had narrowed in suspicion. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were trying to get rid of me for some reason.”

  Her mother and sister had laughed, but not before they shared a brief, uneasy glance.

  Penelope had no idea what they were up to, but she had a feeling it had something to do with the overall tension in the family lately. Something was going on, and whatever it was, they didn’t want Penelope to know about it, perhaps because, as her mother said, she’d been under so much stress lately.

  Penelope hadn’t pressed them, nor had she taken their suggestion seriously. At least not then. But now she was almost ashamed to admit how tempting a vacation sounded. Nothing lengthy or elaborate. Just a few days all to herself. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be able to get away from the museum for some time to come.

  She sighed wistfully as she searched Simon’s face for even the tiniest response to her presence. In the weeks and months since his accident, she’d seen nothing to indicate he was aware of her visits. Not even the flicker of an eyelid or the twitch of a muscle.

  But his features had become so familiar and dear to her that she knew every curve and angle of his face, every imperfection—the tiny indented scar above his mouth, the larger, fresher scar just inside his hairline from the accident, the slightly crooked nose.

  She could never look at that face and not remember the day he’d walked into the museum, the way his eyes had deepened behind his glasses even before she told him who she was.