Amanda's Touch [D.A.R.E.ing Women] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by LeeAnn Masters

  “Mr. Grayson, really…we should return to the party. I’m sure someone has noticed our absence.” Nervousness was infiltrating her previously calm demeanor, and her voice began to shake as she gestured toward the house.

  “Ms. Hall, if you would grant me a few more moments of your time.”

  Okay, apparently he knew how to pretty things up himself. However, this was said with certain amount of steel in his voice. There would be no more dodging of his questions. He was basically telling her she needed to address his concerns, pronto!

  She knew what he wanted, but she knew equally that she could not answer him honestly. He wanted to know why she’d reacted so strangely at work, why she’d jumped as though zapped with a cattle prod when he’d touched her, and of course he’d just told her he wanted to know why she did her level best to avoid him, and that he was upset she hadn’t returned his call. She thought that about summed up his inquiries. Only the last one could she answer with any degree of truthfulness. She’d better get on it so he could have at least a small amount of closure. She could at least give him that.

  In that moment it occurred to her that she’d really have to leave her job. While she’d thought about it last night, it hadn’t been a certainty. Now, she was surprised by the amount of pain she felt at having to.

  She tried to gather her wits about her, and was proud when she responded in a calm manner. “Mr. Grayson, I apologize for not returning your call from this morning.” He just sat there watching her. No response, that made her antsy. She rushed through the rest. “I was heading out the door when I heard the phone ring, and intended to listen to my messages when I returned home, but my day was pretty full and I forgot to check them. I have no other excuse.” There was no way she could explain to him why she’d been so distracted.

  There was still no comment from him, what was he thinking? What more was he waiting for?

  “I hope that it wasn’t something too urgent?” she persisted, feeling anxious, and added, “If there is a problem with a client you can always reach me on my cell.”

  Not that he’d have to worry about reaching her for too much longer. Come Monday she’d be handing in her resignation. Again, she felt a funny tightening in her chest as she thought about leaving the coworkers who had become her family.

  She’d been offered a position with a competitor almost a year ago. She guessed she was going to have to call them. She wasn’t concerned about finding a new job immediately but it would be nice not to have to dip into her savings or retirement, but, if need be, she would. She could easily make up for the loss by moving around some assets. But, damn it! She didn’t want to leave her job. She shouldn’t have to just because of this man.

  She had the inheritance money from her mother and the life insurance money from David’s death. She also had money invested from the settlement her lawyer had made with the trucking company whose driver had taken her husband’s life. Not to mention the money from her other business interests. She could simply start her own company if she chose to, but knew that right now she wasn’t up to the task, physically or emotionally. She was too drained to put in the effort it would require of her, that was the reason she hadn’t finished her acquisition of the company herself from Mr. Reynolds.

  She pulled herself from those thoughts abruptly. She’d much rather have David’s continuing presence in her life than a hefty bank account and a solid investment plan. Still he waited, saying nothing. In the dark she couldn’t read his expression. She wasn’t sure if he was too angry to reply, or if he’d fallen asleep because she’d bored him.

  “Mr. Grayson?” she questioned, hoping to prod his response.

  “Amanda” he said softly, and with a tenderness that made a thrill go through her. He rarely called her by her first name. He was always fairly formal in the workplace. She could not understand why she experienced a tingle down her spine simply from his uttering her name.

  “Why won’t you talk to me? Why do you feel the need to keep such a distance between us?” His questions were asked kindly and with a most gentle tone. Why, oh why, did he have to choose tonight to try to bring down walls? She could better deal with his cooler businesslike demeanor but had no idea how to handle the gentle giant that now sat before her.

  What the hell could she tell him? Oh…by the way, I’m psychic.

  What would he think when she told him about what happened with her clients yesterday? She could just see the expression of disbelief on his face as she informed him. Yesterday, when I met with our very rich clients, the Tabotts. You know, the ones who bought and want to renovate the old Porter Estate? I “saw” that Mr. Tabott was embezzling from his wife’s father’s investment firm. The one where he holds the position of Chief Financial Officer?

  Oh, and then she could add, When I asked you to reassign the project to another team member, because I said I didn’t think I was the right one for the job. You basically told me to “suck it up” and take care of the clients. Oh yeah. That would be rich, wouldn’t it? Well, now she was just being unfair. He hadn’t said those exact words. She was simply being bitchy, she acknowledged unhappily.

  No, she couldn’t say any of that. Instead she gathered her dignity and quietly said, “Mr. Grayson, I’ll see you on Monday, at work. Have a nice weekend.” Then she quickly walked away. She could feel his eyes follow her progress across the yard and into the house but did not dare turn around.

  In the house she sought out Jerry, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and wished him a happy birthday. She found and thanked Beth for inviting her, grabbed her purse and jacket, and then she skedaddled out of there as fast as she could.

  Chapter 3:

  Breakdown

  As she made her escape through the ceramic-tiled front hall she could see Zack entering the sliding glass doors off the back, his broad shoulders filling the expanse. He glanced around the room, surveying the crowd, and she knew he was looking for her. She had the horrible feeling this wonderful night wasn’t over quite yet.

  Quickly, she grabbed the knob of the door and twisted it, wrenching the door open so fast she nearly hit herself in the head with it. Not that she’d notice if she did, since it was throbbing already. Practically running, she hurried down the brick walk of Beth and Jerry’s home to the sidewalk. She rocked back on her heels as she reached it. She was so flustered she had to stop to remember where she’d parked the car. Looking around her frantically, she got her bearings and headed to her left, she was pretty sure she’d parked around the corner. Hadn’t she?

  She rushed down the walk and around the corner, and with profound relief found her car. She placed her hands on the hood and stood leaning heavily against it, her body trembling. She was overwhelmingly tired, massively tired. So weary she couldn’t think of another word to describe how exhausted she truly was. It was because she needed rest that she felt so confused and out of control. That’s what she told herself, anyway. What else would explain the nearly crippling anguish she felt about resigning her position? All emotions become exaggerated when you haven’t had adequate rest, don’t they?

  She’d certainly sleep tonight, she thought wryly. In fact, she was going to be hard pressed to not fall asleep at the wheel on her way home. That thought brought her up short. Wouldn’t it be the height of irony to live through one accident caused by another falling asleep, only to kill yourself when you did? She giggled inappropriately at the scenario she envisioned, and then she hiccupped as a single sob broke through.

  She heard footsteps approaching on the walk behind her and knew it would be Zack, still following her. God, please, she silently prayed. I can’t deal with any more tonight. She unconsciously squared her shoulders as though to ready for a fight and placed her purse and jacket on the car, opening her purse to hunt down her keys.

  “Amanda? Are you all right?” His deep voice resonated with obvious concern and echoed down the quiet street. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? she wondered.

  Amanda took a calming breath and tried to ste
ady her voice so it wouldn’t give her away. “Mr. Grayson, I’m fine. I just needed some air before I headed home.” She would not turn around to look at him. He’d see she was crying, and she’d been humiliated enough for one evening. Where the hell were her keys? Her trembling fingers kept coming up empty and she couldn’t see in the dark. Damn it! She should have got them out while at the house!

  “You sound, and look, anything but fine,” he chided gently.

  She tried to ignore his tone because, for some reason, the honest care and concern that came through it called up a very strong urge to collapse into his arms. It had been so long since someone had held her, and there were days she’d sell her soul for that sense of support and closeness. She shook her head and gritted her teeth. She was on her own now, period. Wishing something were so wouldn’t make it be.

  “Amanda, please.”

  Another plea from him made her groan internally and she kept her back to him. Silence filled the space between them and the quiet seconds lengthened, increasing her anxiety. She didn’t want to answer him. Her answer would be a lie. Instead, she emitted a loud and exasperated sigh, contemplating if she’d left her keys somewhere at Jerry’s. She wondered if Zack would follow her like a lost puppy back to the party, or if she’d be able to shake him loose by going back. Fat chance.

  “Mandy? Talk to me.” He was very nearly begging. She could hear a hint of desperation in his voice. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

  Suddenly she felt a fine rage sweep through her and she now had to will herself not to turn around. She wanted to beat on him to rid herself of the depth of her anger. She knew it was wrong. She knew he had not done anything to harm her, yet all she could think of was her intense hate of him, and herself, in that moment. A black wave of it rose up inside her, consumed her.

  She hated that he was driving her from her place of work, the work that kept her sane. Hated that her previously happy life had been turned upside down by a freak accident. Hated the extra abilities she now possessed as a result of that accident, as if the original one wasn’t bad enough. She hated herself because part of her wanted what she’d seen when he’d touched her, and finally she hated the feeling that she was a traitor to David for even thinking about wanting someone other than him.

  “Mandy! Please!” This time his voice was more of a demand and he reached out and slightly shook her arm. His concern morphing into irritation that he couldn’t pull out of her the information he wanted. His annoyance allowed her rage to break free and she whirled to confront him. She slammed both of her palms against his chest, intending to push him away. It was like hammering on a brick wall for all her efforts gained her.

  “Don’t call me Mandy!” She very nearly shouted the words at him. Only one man called her Mandy, and that man was dead.

  “You don’t get to call me Mandy!” Her tone was so anguished and heartfelt that his eyes widened, and she could see his face contort in mirrored pain. She pounded her hands against him once more, reinforcing her words.

  Zack gently secured her wrists in his large rough hands, not hurting her, simply stilling her ineffectual efforts at beating on him. Watching her, he said nothing. Just held her hands in his and waited. She struggled uselessly, both to release her hands and to control her emotions, but she had no reserve of strength left and she stood before him, broken. Her head was bowed under the weight of her sadness and shame, tears streaming down her face and dripping onto their linked hands.

  He carefully drew her into his arms, and initially, she tried to resist the inexorable pull against him, but he wasn’t having that. He tightened his arms around her until she realized that he was not going to let her go. He wasn’t exactly forcing himself on her. He was making her realize that it was all right to lean on him.

  “You’ll be all right, Amanda. It’s all going to be all right. I promise you. It will get easier,” he murmured softly in her ear, over and over again. He didn’t use any personalized nicknames, she noticed.

  She couldn’t quite see how anything would ever be all right ever again, but she appreciated his efforts in comforting her, and finally she allowed herself to sag against his warm, muscled chest. His hands slowly ran up and down her back, patting her, trying to ease her distress. His calming influence washed over her, sedated her almost, she thought. She wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or if she was reading into the feeling just because of her exhaustion.

  Vaguely, she realized that she was missing something. Something that was very important, but she couldn’t focus her thoughts enough to piece it together right then and there. She slumped against him, allowing him to support her, not minding that she must certainly be a disaster, her mascara running, and her eyes bloodshot and swollen for the second night in a row. Would this misery never end?

  She didn’t know how long they stood there like that before he gently released her. Stepping back he held onto her arms while he ascertained she wouldn’t crumple to the ground without his support. She felt slightly calmer and a little more in control of herself, though still so tired she could barely stay on her feet.

  Her headache was now so severe it felt like it would literally split her skull in two. She pressed her shaking fingers to her temples in a futile attempt to combat the near mind-shattering pain. She was really sorry she hadn’t taken the stronger prescription migraine medication earlier. She was also pretty certain Zack had had enough of her theatrics. She felt like a complete idiot for breaking down in front of him. He’d surely fire her himself, thinking she was a detriment to his business. She thought that it might be easier on both of them if he did. She wouldn’t have to explain her reasons for leaving that way.

  She looked at the ground miserably and wondered. What? She had so many questions and nothing seemed very clear right now. Her mind was a mishmash of emotion. Her anxiety was returning in waves now that he no longer held her. How strange! She took another step farther away from him, unable to meet his eyes and needing to break the awkward silence.

  “I am so sorry, Mr. Grayson,” she whispered. “I’m not sure what that was, and I should never have struck you!” She felt utterly mortified by her actions, hectic red splotches fanned across her cheeks.

  “Give me your keys, Amanda,” he demanded in a quiet voice.

  The blue facets of his eyes shone with deep concern in the glare of the streetlight and he looked down at her with what appeared to be pity in his eyes. She didn’t like that!

  “What? Why?” She shook her head trying to clear it. She must have misunderstood him.

  “I asked for your keys, Amanda.” He gave the same demand but this time his tone was firmer, no nonsense. “You are dead on your feet. I can tell you won’t make it home on your own. I’ll drive you.”

  His voice was so even that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, though she guessed it was probably something along the lines that she should be committed. Right now, she might agree with that assessment.

  “But, how will you get home, if you drive me?” Amanda still wasn’t making much sense of his words, and she wasn’t sure hers had come out making much sense either. Gosh, she wanted her bed! She seriously felt like she could curl up right on the concrete sidewalk and sleep for a week.

  “It’s time for you to worry about making yourself better,” he said. “You don’t need to be concerned about me. I’ll catch a cab from your place.”

  Her place! No! No, no, no, no! That was so not a good idea! Her anxiety ratcheted up a notch at the thought of him in her home, though she wasn’t sure why. Her suddenly panic-stricken expression caused Zack’s eyes to tighten in an even more concerned and sympathetic gaze. To her, it seemed like he came to a sudden decision and she saw him nod to himself, as he committed to whatever path it was he was thinking about.

  With a determined expression his eyes caught and held hers and he reached out to caress her face. His palms cradled her cheeks and his fingers burned a trail across her skin. She suddenly felt as though she’d been drugged. The fe
eling was similar to the effects of valium, a considerable dose of it. She’d taken a prescription of it for a short time following the accident and recognized that slightly dopey, relaxed sensation as it washed through her. What the hell? She must be coming down with something, she thought.

  She looked at him with a blank face as her comprehension slowly caught up with his words. Huh? Make herself better? What the heck did that mean?

  “Your keys?” he queried again.

  He sighed in what seemed like semi-amused exasperation, grabbed her bag from the hood of the car, and began rooting through her purse. She was too surprised to say anything to him. She stared as he cast her personal effects to one side in his search for her keys, but no anger arose in her at the violation of her privacy.

  She heard the soft whump of the door locks as they were triggered. Guess he found the keys, she thought idly. She felt so foggy and far away. Though the doors were now unlocked she still stood there, kind of wobbling in place. Zack assessed her nearly zombie-like condition, opened the passenger door, picked her up, and set her gently inside.

  She sighed in relief, laid her head back against the headrest, and allowed her eyes to fall shut. She ought to feel angry with him for assuming control of her, but could no longer find the resentment that had overtaken her previously. She felt him spread her jacket across her lap and heard the thud as he dropped her purse on the floor of the car under her legs.

  She heard Zack get in on the driver’s side and listened to him swear softly as he fumbled around in the dark looking for the mechanism to move the seat back. She was so short he’d have to drive with his knees against his chest if he didn’t retract it quite a bit. She giggled faintly at the picture she’d created in her mind, kind of like a clown car, she thought giddily, and giggled again.