At the intersection of Busch and Armenia, Roxanne waited for the traffic light to turn green. No matter how good coming home felt, it had little effect on her mounting dread. If Frank saw that show, or heard about it, he’d find her no matter where she was. She could only hope this would be the last place he’d look.
Roxanne pulled her car into the semicircle driveway and parked behind Candy’s black Targa. She climbed out, and neither the humidity nor the heat dissuaded her as she went to the passenger side and gathered her sleeping son in her arms.
Heading toward the front door of the two-story wood-trimmed house, she found it even more appealing than she had when she’d seen it in the photographs. In person, it looked even more inviting nestled amid tropical trees and plants.
At the door, she was unable to get to her keys and leaned on the doorbell.
The door opened promptly. “Hi, Jameson.” She felt a measure of comfort seeing half the husband-and-wife team that’d been in her employ since right after Frankie’s birth.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Roxanne.” Jameson’s accent suggested that he knew how to do things properly. And as far as Roxanne could see, he did. “Shall I take him?”
“Yes, please.” She passed Frankie off to him. “Have Rose put him to bed,” she said of Jameson’s wife.
“Ms. Candy is out by the pool.”
“Thanks.” She gave Jameson a smile, then darted through the house and out into the backyard.
Candy was bikini-clad and laid out on a poolside lounge chair, soaking up the sun. The tropical heat washed over Roxanne in a thick wave of sweltering moisture as she dropped into a nearby chair. She’d almost forgotten how unpleasant Florida’s humidity could be. Candy didn’t move. Roxanne considered that she might be sleeping and cleared her throat.
Candy’s eyes opened behind her Sun Clouds. After a moment, she asked, “How’d the interview go?”
An unpleasant feeling devoured Roxanne. Grudgingly, she admitted, “Not well.”
“So what happened?”
“All she wanted to talk about was Garrett-Hollander.” Roxanne tried to show as little emotion as possible, even to Candy.
Candy tipped up her sunglasses and propped them on her forehead. “That was the subject?”
In the background, one of Garrett-Hollander’s songs played on the radio sitting on the ground at Candy’s side. Since Roxanne’s mysterious departure from Frank’s life five years ago, he’d written many songs about her. Some indicated his hatred for her, while others simply begged her to come back. There were also songs alleging that she’d been a hooker. It was one of those songs that played on Candy’s radio now.
…I played the fool
I trusted her
But she let me down
Cause while I was away
Roxanne was out selling herself
All over town…
“I’m surprised she didn’t ask me about that damn song.” Roxanne hated that song and she cursed Frank for writing it. To hear him tell it, she’d been out prostituting herself just because she could. It hadn’t been that way at all and it pissed her off that Frank would suggest as much.
“So tell me what happened?” Candy flashed Roxanne an eager smile. She loved gossip. Especially when it involved the two of them.
“Well, to make a long story short—” Roxanne hesitated. “She asked me point blank if Frank Garrett was the father of my son.”
“No…” Candy’s disbelief glowed in her emerald eyes, brightening them. “What’d you say?”
“I denied it, of course. But the bitch wouldn’t give up.” She paused long enough to get a hold of her frustration. “She even conned me into bringing Frankie out on the set.”
“During taping?” Candy’s voice shook.
“Oh, yes. And she commented on the resemblance too.” Roxanne reacted like an injured puppy. “And she wasn’t talking about me and Frankie.”
“Oh, wow.”
“If he sees that show…” Roxanne’s voice trailed off as she thought about Frank. Quickly though, she regained her composure and added, “I hate to think of the consequences.”
“Frank’s in his own little world,” Candy said. “The last thing he’s got time for is to keep up with you.”
“Yeah, right.” Roxanne’s disbelief escaped in her laughter.
Candy didn’t speak right away. The silence was deafening. “Did you know their first album was a flop?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “When their second album came out, it did so well that people went out and bought the first one.”
“They have two albums?” Roxanne asked innocently.
Candy raked an admonishing glare over Roxanne. “They have three, which is my point exactly.” It was like she knew Roxanne had chosen to play dumb. Uh oh. That meant the lecture was coming. “It hasn’t been your concern to keep up with him, so why should he have gone to so much trouble to keep up with you?”
“Okay, so maybe you’re right.” Roxanne wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight. “But if what you say is true…then why do you know so much about them?”
Candy ignored Roxanne. “You do have reason to be concerned though.”
“How so?”
“If Frank sees that show…you’re dead meat.” She slid her sunglasses back over her eyes and sank down into the lounge chair.
“That’s very comforting, Can…” Roxanne’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to think about what might happen. Nothing good could come from that.
“Face the facts,” Candy said, “Frankie is a walking, talking replica of Frank.” Her unwelcome words surrounded Roxanne like a fine mist. “I know you had your reasons for running away from him.” Compassion filled her tone, yet if offered little comfort. “But you better realize…it just might be time to pay the piper.”
Roxanne went upstairs to take a long, hot bubble bath. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, she poured bath oil into the stream of running water. She sat there almost in a trance, watching the tub fill and the bubbles grow. Satisfied with the water level she turned it off, got undressed and stepped in. Sliding down through the bubbles, she began to feel confident that the water would soothe her soul and chase her troubles away.
Why? Why was this happening now? Especially after all this time. Everything had been going so well too. But now the bottom was about to fall out.
Why did it always come back to Frank Garrett? Roxanne tried to put him out of her mind, just as she’d tried to do so many times before. But somehow he always managed to keep sneaking back into her thoughts. A long time ago, she thought running away would solve her problems. She thought running away would set her free. Free from Frank. Now she realized she’d been mistaken.
Her past was about to come back to haunt her. She knew she wasn’t up to facing Frank. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for that. In Roxanne’s mind she had done nothing but love Frank. She’d only tried to help him, and in return he’d let her down. Once again, he’d doubted her before giving her the chance to explain. And he’d promised he would never do that again.
Roxanne wanted desperately to go back. Back to the beginning. Back when things were fine. Back before the hatred. Back when there was only love.
As the water rocked back and forth, time also rocked back and forth, until Roxanne had no concept of time at all. And once again, she had no idea what was the past and what was the present….
*I hope you enjoyed this preview of Crazy For You. If you’d like to read the book in its entirety, it’s available on Kindle or Nook, or check with your favorite online retailer. Please turn the page for an excerpt of Saving Katya by Sandra Edwards.*
SAVING KATYA
by
Sandra Edwards
CHAPTER 1
OLYMPIC CHAMPION Kate Peterson dreaded the inevitable, the day her sight faded for good. The doctors had promised that her remaining senses would pick up the slack. Their assurances offered little comfort. She didn’t care if her sense of smell perked up when her
eyesight diminished.
The Winter Olympics in Squaw Valley, California, was a hell of a place to test those theories. But since she was here, she couldn’t resist testing her sense of hearing. She clutched the ice rink railing and closed her eyes.
The blades gliding over the ice hummed in her ears. Kate envied the skaters. Soon enough, her own skating would be reduced to cruising around the rink, but only with someone else’s guidance.
Kate’s eyesight had been fading for the past year. She’d lost thirty percent of her peripheral vision in one eye and twenty-five percent in the other. According to the doctors, she had about a year left before she hit one hundred percent.
She could see it now. She’d turn into one of those pathetic has-beens, living solely in the glory of the past. Her life would be reduced to reminiscing about the days she used to sail through the air in an axel or a loop, knowing she’d never again pull off anything so basic as a simple waltz—the easiest of jumps.
She leaned against the railing, her eyes still closed, and “listened” to the latest round of Olympic hopefuls. The whipping and snapping of skaters taking to the air was followed soon after by the sound of blades crashing onto the ice. Kate envisioned a perfect landing.
Wisps of chilled wind caressed her face and she let her memories fuel her imagination. Thoughts filled her mind of Alexei tossing her into a double axel and then racing to catch up to her. Remembering his whispering praises breezing against her ear, she sighed longingly.
A familiar scent filled the air. Kate’s eyes shot open. Her memories—so clear, so real—she swore she smelled him.
Get a grip! She shuddered.
“Katya…?” A familiar voice uttered in a broken whisper.
Icy fear twisted around Kate’s heart. Alexei was here?
She must be nuts. In what world had she thought she could avoid her ex-lover at the Winter Games, where figure skating’s gold medalists were supposed to light the torch at the opening ceremonies? Who else would call out her name—in Russian?
“Katya?” There it was again, Alexei Petrova’s voice sneaking up from behind.
Damn. What had she been thinking? Dread knotted in her gut, wouldn’t let her turn and face him. In truth, she’d assumed that if she ran into him he’d shun her after the way they’d ended. He was, after all, the one who’d initiated the break-up.
So much for assumptions.
He called her name again, louder this time. “Katya?” His questioning tone insisted she confirm her identity.
No, it’s not me. Her heart fluttered and her head spun with the denial. She tightened her grip on the cold hard steel of the ice rink railing, not knowing if vertigo or the prospect of seeing Alexei fueled her fear of falling.
Kate’s vision faded in and out and stalled into a blur.
Oh, no. Please, not now. This wasn’t the time for her illness to exhibit its nasty side-effect.
She blinked, but her impaired view remained. She prayed it was short-term, like the doctors had promised.
Her fear of coming face-to-face with Alexei died away. It was replaced by a quick and disturbing thought. What if she never saw him again?
Did he look the same? Did he still command that tall, athletic presence she remembered? Was his hair still golden-brown? And—if she could see them clearly—would his electrifying blue eyes still capture her affection with a simple glance?
Curiosity made her turn to face the blurry shape. Her cool reserve shattered, trapping her in limbo where making decisions—much less acting upon them—was impossible.
“Katya? Is it really you?” His Russian accent, while discernible, was not as prominent as she remembered. Perhaps eight years had a way of distorting reality.
Damn it to hell. Denial was an option. Not a good one, but still an alternative. Claiming mistaken identity had its charms. There was also something to be said for honesty. What—she didn’t know.
The truth in one simple word sputtered from her mouth. “Yes.” She dangled one arm behind her back and steadied herself against the railing.
Keeping her impaired vision a secret would take some finesse, and a bluff or two. For starters, she painted on a practiced smile. She didn’t need to see it to verify its effectiveness.
The shadowy figure got bigger and blurrier. Great. He was coming toward her, and then he touched her, igniting fear and a familiar yearning inside Kate. His hands lingered and she cursed her bad luck. Why had her vision picked this moment to abandon her?
Alexei drew her into his arms, surprising her. The shock didn’t last long, chased away by an overwhelming sense of self-betrayal. She longed to wrap herself around him. Common sense deserted her and she surrendered to the familiarity of his touch. Images of tangled naked bodies flashed in her mind and the mental picture got stuck.
Stop that.
But it didn’t stop. Thanks to her double-crossing heart and her sell-out body, she relished in the contact.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, Katya.” His faint whisper penetrated her thoughts.
She detected the sincerity in his tone but longed to see his face. It was the only way to know if her desires hadn’t tainted reality. Besides, why would he be happy to see her?
“Y-you too,” she said, a chill shimmering across her shoulders.
A flicker of light, the only thing visible during her sightless episodes, flashed off to the side. Instinctively, she turned toward it. The arena’s stands, hazy and distorted, gave nothing away.
Damn. This sporadic blindness thing—a consequence of her illness—had a way of making an inconvenient entrance.
She leaned back and pretended to peer at his face. A mannerism she’d mastered over the past year. His hands crept down her arms and tangled with her fingers. The chills spilled over her back. She faked a smile, hoping he didn’t catch on to her predicament.
To Kate, he was nothing more than a blur. Still, she recognized him. She’d never reacted to any man’s touch the way she had Alexei—then and now.
“Katya, where have you been?” His tone changed, hardening. She didn’t need to see to know he was mad. But why?
If anybody had a right to be angry, it was her. She refused to get into it in the middle of the skating arena. Talking openly in public about private matters was out of the question. But her faltering sight made it impossible to walk away.
“Alexei…” She paused, and tried to find some placating words. Ones that would satisfy his curiosity, at least for now.
“Kate.” A recognizable feminine voice interrupted.
Thank, God. Debra Schilling, Kate’s boss at the restaurant where she’d been waitressing for the last three years, knew how to barge in with style. For once, it was welcomed.
Kate released Alexei’s hands, pivoted around and stumbled. His strong, familiar embrace—one she’d know anywhere but preferred to forget—caught and steadied her fall.
She stiffened, her body frozen by icy sheets of denial. Denial that she couldn’t see. Denial that Alexei could be forgiven. Denial that Debra’s crazy plan was somehow going to work.
Fear of discovery motivated her awkward nose-rubbing gesture. After all the trouble Debra had gone through to dream up the scheme, Kate hoped she saw the signal.
“It’s time for that appointment. Are you ready?” Debra’s words of affirmation calmed Kate’s choking, pounding heart.
She’d believed Debra was being paranoid, making up all those private clues; signs that only the two of them understood. Maybe she’d been wrong about that but she’d never admit her mistake.
“Yes, of course.” Kate took a couple of steps toward the direction she’d heard Debra’s voice come from and then hesitated, her thoughts getting sidelined by Alexei’s cologne. The exotic and seductive spices had never smelled the same on any other man. She pushed the reminiscing and the scent aside, and turned as if looking over her shoulder. “Alexei, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
“If you need a moment…” Debra’s voice showed Kate the
way.
“No, Deb, that’s fine.” Kate stepped toward her voice and unwittingly stopped between her boss and her former lover. “Debra Schilling…Alexei Petrova.” She did the polite thing and introduced them. “We skated together,” she told Debra. “Briefly. A few years ago.” A thin, ice-hard wall of vigilance settled around Kate and she hoped it hid the pressure building inside. “Alexei…Debra is a friend of mine.”
Debra’s laughter echoed through Kate’s shaky countenance. “Don’t let her fool you. I work for Kate. I’m her private secretary.”
Kate’s sense of right and wrong told her to object, but her pride wouldn’t let her. It might lead to the truth coming out. If that happened she’d go from being a reclusive gold medalist, who was the darling of the Olympics eight years ago, to a pathetic figure worldwide.
“Alexei, it’s nice to meet you,” Debra said, her voice full of appeal.
Kate kept quiet, seeing nothing to worry about in her friend’s harmless flirtation.
“The Russian sensation. You’re quite the performer.” Something warm and enchanting in Debra’s suggestive chuckle set Kate on edge. Maybe it wasn’t so harmless after all. She didn’t need Debra to be smitten by Alexei. Debra’s allegiance was one of the few things Kate had going for her.
“Ms. Schilling, you are most kind,” Alexei said.
Kate imagined him kissing Debra’s hand or something charismatic. If he did, Debra would likely succumb to his tactics. Although married, Debra was easily charmed.
Kate had to get her boss out of there. And fast. Before Debra figured out just what Alexei was to Kate. Apart from a Gold Medalist who, for a brief moment, was her skating partner on the Olympians Skating Tour. If Debra inadvertently gave Kate’s secret away, that’d be disastrous.
“You and I should be going.” She lunged at Debra’s shadowy frame, latching onto her arm. Kate pretended aggression and their ruse played out with Debra leading her away.
“Katya?” Alexei’s voice chased after Kate.
She stopped and crooked her neck in a pretense of looking over her shoulder. “Yes?”
Billionaire Games Boxed Set (The Marriage Bargain, The Marriage Caper, The Marriage Fix) Page 51