Key West

by Stella Cameron

  “What a mess,” she said when they’d finished. “I’m so embarrassed. What did I say?”

  Chris regarded her speculatively. “You think you said something to me but you don’t remember?”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she gasped as if shocked by them. She put her fists on the mattress and breathed through her mouth. Her eyes closed.

  He was around the bed in two strides. She didn’t shrink from the hand he slipped about her waist. “You’re…Sonnie, I don’t know what you are, but it isn’t good. Help me out here. Tell me what’s happened. And what’s going on. Should I call your brother-in-law?”

  “No. Oh, no. Romano’s a good man. He’s my friend. But there are reasons I have to watch them all.”

  “Do you want to elaborate on that?”

  “I can’t.” She leaned against him. “I need to lie down.”

  “You’ve got it, kid,” he said, and pulled back the covers. Without waiting for permission he swung her up and settled her gently on the bed. Beads of sweat stood on her forehead again, so he didn’t cover her.

  “This was all stupid tonight,” she said, rolling to her side and putting her hands beneath her cheek. “Just a bad dream. It’s been stressful getting settled. There’s been a lot of stuff. That must be what made it happen again.”

  “Happen again? What exactly is it that happens?”

  Once again she said, “No.” But she shot out a hand, fingers reaching, until he held them. “Sit beside me, please. Don’t go away.”

  She kept asking him that. “You can’t tell me what’s wrong, but you don’t want me to go away because you’re frightened. You can’t have it all ways. Not that I intend to get involved here, Sonnie. I’ve already told you that.”

  To his horror, tears slid from her eyes and ended in her hair and against the pillow. This was one troubled woman—exactly the kind he would never, ever get tied up with again.

  She was pretty. In an unconventional way, but definitely pretty. All her features were pointed and their smallness drew attention to the size of her very blue eyes, and the fact that her mouth was what some would consider too wide, and too full. Chris liked the entire package.

  Out of line.

  And stepping into deep water.

  Ι must be horny. Scrawny women had never appealed to him. Besides, he had made it a career rule not to have sexual thoughts about women who came his way in the line of duty.

  Christian J. Talon didn’t have duty anymore, except to himself and his principles. Right now he wasn’t sure about his principles.

  Time tο duck out. After all, he’d had plenty of experience doing just that. Νοt that he wouldn’t keep an eye out for her. Half an eye. But she was probably a wacko in need of that psychiatric attention Giacano had implied he intended to seek for her.

  Chris didn’t Like Romano Giacano. He was just a little too smooth, a little too quick with the right words at the right time. And he wanted something from Sonnie. Not just her shoulder to lean on while they waited for a final word on her husband, but something else. If Chris were οn the case, he’d go all out and discover Romano’s hidden agenda, but he wasn’t on the case.

  “You did come,” Sonnie said, her voice husky.

  He spotted a box of tissues on the bedside table and pulled out several. These he pressed to her eyes and cheeks. Where his fingers touched her skin, was incredibly soft.

  “You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t decided to help me.”

  Ah, yes, the trap could so easily close. “Ι’m a hard man, Sonnie. Hard and battle worn. I’ve already told you about me. I’m washed-up, worn-out. A loser. Α bum living by his brother’s good-heartedness.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe me, kid. I’m here because this is the end of the world, as far as the States goes. South and the sea. And I’d go there before I’d willingly head north again. I’ve lost too much up there, mostly because I let myself care too much. Caring too much cost me too much. But that’s my story, not yours. Ι can’t be good for you I can’t be what you need.”

  “But you came.” She was pleading.

  He hated it when a woman pleaded. Turning her down was harder then. “Υοu called and I could hear you were crying. I didn’t know what the score was, so I came. Anyone would have done the same thing.”

  “Most people would have called the police. Even knowing that it would be the wrong thing, they’d have done it anyway.”

  Would he ever learn to be as tough as he wanted to be? “Go to sleep. Ι won’t leave until it starts getting light, and I’ll make sure everything’s locked up.”

  She sat up. “There’s a garage. You could keep your bike there.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant. “It’s under the fan palm. It’ll be all right for now.”

  “Your place at Roy’s is small.” She grasped his hands again, and the wild look was back in her face. “You could have rooms here, big rooms. And your bike would be safe. You could come and go whenever you want to. And then if…Will you stay here, please?”

  Good God. He pulled a hand free and stroked back her drying hair. And he smiled at her—not hard to do. “Sleep. You don’t mean what you’re saying, and if I were to agree, you’d be embarrassed and have to tell me later that you didn’t mean it.”

  “No I—”

  He put his fingers on her mouth and pulled his belly tight. Touching her only made him want to touch her some more.

  “I’m cynical, selfish. Not what you think I am at all. I don’t know why you’d think otherwise, unless you’ve made the mistake of believing my brother. He’s a relative. You never believe what a man’s relative says, especially when he just about brought me up.”

  “But you came by this afternoon. Why did you do that if you aren’t interested in taking my case?”

  This could turn into a tightening noose around his neck. “Roy’s been worried about you. I decided to cruise by and see if everything looked okay. That’s all. Nothing deeper than that.” A little lie, maybe, but for the best.

  “Yeah,” she said, and the fight was gone again. “Yeah, I understand. I need to go to a florist. You know a florist called Moss Corner?”

  Chris took her by the shoulders and eased her firmly down against the bed. “I already went there. Roy told me about the lilies you received.”

  She turned her face into the pillow. “I hate them.”

  “So Roy said.” What the hell was he going to do there? Nebulous as the whole mess was, there was no doubt that Mrs. Giacano had problems. “The flowers were probably bought at Moss Corner. They were busy at the time, so the woman who bought them didn’t make much impression. She was in a hurry; they did remember that. She paid in cash and took a blank gift enclosure. They were preparing a big order for a funeral. The woman was relieved because they had plenty of lilies.”

  He knew his mistake as soon as she covered her mouth.

  “Look, I’ve said I’ll stay until you sleep.”

  “He’ll come back.”

  It was there again, the unfocused stare. “Sonnie, tomorrow you must go to the police and explain what’s been happening here.”

  “Tell them about a gift of lilies and a card about a baby’s death?”

  He shook his head, bemused.

  “Tell them he told me to leave because he’d kill me if I stay in Key West?”

  “Yes.” Rubbing her arms, he leaned over her. “Yes, you must tell them that.” He would not ask her who she was talking about. To do so would be to ask to be dragged in deeper, and he didn’t want to go there.

  She scooted away from him and closed her eyes tight. “Thank you,” she said. “You were very kind to come. I apologize for the terrible intrusion into your life.”

  “It isn’t a terrible intrusion. You’ve been through too much. You’re still recovering from a catastrophic accident. Most people wouldn’t be doing anywhere near as well as you are. But I think you’re trying too hard and its taking a toll on you.”

 
; “You think I’m mad, too.”

  He looked at her white face, at the perspiration in the dip above her top lip and in her fair brows. “I think you’re in trouble. I don’t have much idea what kind of trouble. You ask me to help you; then you won’t tell me what’s supposed to be wrong.”

  “There were voices,” she said, and her own voice became fainter. “In the darkness. Voices. Threats. They said I was supposed to be dead and that I would be dead. They said I was in the way.”

  “When you were in the hospital?”

  “Yes. Then afterward. When I went home to my parents in Denver. At night when I thought I’d gone to sleep, they came again. And the fire.”

  “The fire?”

  “I’m crazy. I’ve said enough. Go away and forget about me.”

  Oh, sure, that was going to be real easy. “Is that what happened tonight? You thought someone came to you while you were asleep?”

  “I don’t know.” She rolled onto her face. “I heard the flames and then his face was there, on the other side looking through at me. He threatened me.”

  “Who is he?” he asked very carefully.

  “You’re not mad,” he heard himself say with something near dismay. “You’re in trouble, Sonnie. Please go to sleep. You won’t solve anything while you’re like this. You’re overwrought and weak.”

  “You’ll wait till I’m asleep and leave me.”

  He should do just that.

  “No. One of the things a cop learns is to sleep standing up. Sitting down’s a breeze.”

  “He said I should go to my baby.” She was slipping into sleep. “He said she was waiting for me. The fingers poked me. They felt like she did when she was inside me. It’s not real but that scares me more. It feels real.”

  He looked beyond her at the flowered wallpaper. God, why was there so much tragedy and misery in the world? “Go to sleep. When you wake up it’ll be morning, and I’ll be sitting in that chair looking like a bum.”

  “I like the way you look when you look like a bum.”

  Chris digested that, not that she really knew what she was saying. “Good enough. I won’t desert you, Sonnie. Don’t expect too much of me, because I don’t have it to give anymore. But I’ll try to be a friend.”

  She remained on her stomach, but she raised her elbows and crossed her hands under her forehead. “If you’ll be my friend, I’ll live,” she said, and he heard her slipping into sleep. The lady might or might not need a shrink. What he’d just agreed to meant he definitely needed one.

  He stood up and looked down on her. Her back rose and fell gently with each sleeping breath.

  The top of her pajamas had hiked up, and the elastic in her pajama bottoms was so loose they had worked down low on her hips.

  Chris experienced a twisting in the region of his heart. Her narrow rib cage and tiny waist were almost childlike. The sweet flare of her small hips was not childlike. Her rounded bottom made him want to do things guaranteed to relegate him to the ranks of those who took advantage of perceived weakness. He had seen her nipples through satin and then silk, and her small breasts.

  This was not his type of woman. Maybe she was intellectually his type, only he’d never know that for sure. Physically she couldn’t be less like any female who had ever messed with his hormones.

  Running parallel to her spine, on the left side, was what looked like a surgical scar. The suture marks were still raised. Other scars, jagged as if the flesh had torn, had also been sutured, but he assumed there would be further work done to reduce them.

  There were burn marks on the top of her right buttock, disappearing into the indent between.

  Without intending to do any such thing, he stroked the backs of his fingers down her spine and spread his hand over the shiny web of burned skin. Nerves twitched, but she didn’t awaken. The vicious marks were an insult. She turned her face to the side and her dark lashes flickered. Α face that looked much younger than she had to be. No wonder playboy Frank Giacano had chosen her to be the one he came home to when he was bored with whomever his present girlfriend might be.

  Sonnie should never have been exposed to a man like that. Chris felt a blaze of protectiveness. She had said, “I won’t die for you.” Die for whom? She’d said she wasn’t sure her car crash had been an accident. But if she had any concrete reasons for thinking so, she’d given him no hint of them. Die for you.

  She hadn’t been joking when she asked him to move in here. And the damnable thing was that he wished he could.

  Tomorrow morning early, the minute he was sure all was well, he’d be gone. And he’d work out a way to disengage from her.

  He backed away, but instead of sitting in the chair where it was, he lifted it and set it down, very quietly, close to the bed.

  As he lounged there, the hours slid by. He had turned off the light, but there was enough moonlight, then early dawning light, to allow him to see her clearly. She murmured from time to time, and turned her head from side to side.

  When she rolled onto her back and came closer to him, he tried to make himself avert his eyes. Small she might be, but every line of her softly relaxed body affected him in ways that weren’t new, but were uncomfortable just as they were arousing.

  Αt last exhaustion fuzzed the edges of his mind. He rested his head on the mattress beside her hips. And carefully, so very carefully, he let the backs of his bent fingers rest against her ribs.

  The room smelled of jasmine, but Sonnie was a lavender girl, fresh and clean and inviting—too inviting.

  Consciousness fled, and in the last floating instant of comfort before sleep claimed him, he kissed her belly very lightly. And when he did enter the darkness, it was with his right hand spread over her middle, beneath her pajama top, and only a whisper from the gentle rise of her breasts.

  Eight

  There is a reason for everything. Α reason why I wake up again when sleep is my only peace. A reason why I stay alive, want to stay alive. I do want to stay alive.

  Sonnie’s eyelids flickered. She didn’t want to open them. As long as they were closed she could pretend—to herself and to the man whose presence beside her she felt—that she still slept and yes, she had a reason not to face another day quite yet.

  Presence?

  His very large hand covered her left breast beneath her pajama top.

  A heavy, relaxed hand that probably felt nothing.

  Sonnie felt so much that she fought against the cry that rose to her lips. Her heart beat fast and hard enough that it ought to wake him. She opened her eyes and looked down at Chris Talon. His face was turned toward her. Not a face a woman was likely to forget, even a woman who thought she’d never feel anything for a man again. She felt all right, and the sensation was definitely sexual. His other hand rested on her injured hip.

  She liked the warmth that spread from his flesh into hers.

  He slept like…like a man watching over a woman he cared about. Like a man trying to infuse his very life and strength into that woman.

  Sonnie closed her eyes again. Loneliness and need and desperation could brew up a fine concoction of lies, of lovely imaginary foolishness. But she would forgive herself for her longing.

  Very carefully, watching through narrowly slitted eyelids, she settled a hand on the side of his face, his ear. The tips of her fingers met his curly black hair and she was glad he didn’t cut it short. She was careful to allow her hand to be as limp as his.

  So there they were. And for as long as it took him to break from sleep, she would pretend she slept also.

  Despite flamboyant bones that flared at his cheek and jaw and swept straight down his nose, except for the slight evidence of an old break, despite all that, his face was slender. Like a voyeur, Sonnie peered at his dark, arched brow, and at his mouth.

  A mouth that must have kissed so many women.

  She shut her eyes again. He would never kiss her. He wouldn’t be touching her so intimately now if he knew what he was doing.

 
; She didn’t need him as a lover.

  Just the word heated every inch of her skin.

  She needed his help to prove whether she was right or wrong in thinking that out there, almost within the reach of her struggling mind, was a truth that would set her free. First it would make her heart as crippled as her body, but in the end it would set her free.

  Chris Talon was going to do what she wanted him to do…Why him rather than someone else? Because she felt connected to him. The more he protested that he didn’t want to work for her, with her, the more she felt him struggle with the reverse conviction. And she believed what Roy said: Chris was a good man who had had some bad breaks, and he needed her as much as she needed him.

  She would find out what had broken the man, what had brought him low enough to call himself washed-up. Then maybe, just maybe, and only as a friend, she could return the favor and help him.

  If she asked Roy to do it, he’d kick Chris out of his little hideaway and then she’d…No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t. But she hadn’t given up on getting him tο stay here with her. After all, his virtue wouldn’t be compromised.

  She smiled and gritted her teeth. Her nipple became erect against his palm, and a sharp, aching reaction traveled its natural path. A moment, and then she wanted to press his other hand between her legs.

  Sonnie thought about Frank, her husband. Until she heard otherwise she was married to him. Thoughts and feelings couldn’t always be controlled. Actions should be.

  His hand convulsed on her breast. He squeezed, then held still.

  Sonnie dared another peek at him.

  Sleepy hazel eyes blinked. That one visible brow shot down in a frown. He looked sideways at her slack wrist, then toward his hand on her breast, then upward. She made sure her own eyes were closed and that she breathed gently and evenly.

  She thought he murmured, “Geez,” but he didn’t make any sudden moves.

  They remained where they were, Sonnie knowing they both thought about the next move.