Waiting for Lila

by Billie Green

  She broke off and stared at her wineglass. "He died two days after my twelfth birthday."

  Bill had to check an impulse to pull her into his arms. For a moment she had looked like the devastated little girl she must have been when her brother died. But that wasn't all. Something more than an old tragedy was hurting her, hurting her badly, and Bill couldn't stand It. He wanted to hold her and make it all better. Never before had he felt so acutely pain that wasn't his own. But then, he thought, maybe it was his own.

  Delilah was shocked that she had told this man so much. No one, no one on earth, knew so much about her. It had started with lies, but somewhere along the way it had turned into the truth.

  Why, she asked herself. Why, when she had taken care all her adult life to never talk about her past, not even with the group, her special friends, should she suddenly tell so much to a man she had just met?

  The explanation must rest in the fact that he was a stranger, a stranger she would never see again when she left Mexico. It had nothing to do with that feeling of recognition, she told herself firmly. Nothing.

  When she felt his hand cover hers, she glanced up and was instantly taken aback by the depth of emotion that lay unconcealed in his eyes. It wasn't pity. She would have hated that. It was understanding. It was an unspoken offer to share her pain.

  "I guess your brother's death is part of the reason you're so precious to your parents," he said slowly. "I don't blame your father and mother for trying to pamper you."

  Delilah was suddenly tired of the loving parents she had built for herself. She didn't need them. She had never needed them.

  "Enough about family," she said, unable to keep a touch of harshness from her voice. "When you're not pretending to be a bicycle mechanic, what do you do for fun?"

  As though he sensed her need to lighten the conversation. Bill began to tell her about his extracurricular activities, from sculpting to soccer to sailing. As the meal progressed, she became more and more relaxed, soothed by the warmth of his personality.

  "I remember that concert," she said, laughing as a rock concert she had attended brought back memories. "Glory and I were dying to go, but money was scarce back then, back when we were in—" She broke off and shook her head. She had almost mentioned medical school. "I don't think I'd better finish that story. I almost gave the game away."

  He studied her face, then smiled slowly. "Why don't we make this more interesting? The first one to mention his or her profession has to pay a penalty."

  The lighthearted, flirtatious note in his voice sounded innocent enough, but she threw him a suspicious look. "What kind of penalty?"

  "Something absolutely harmless." He didn't sound quite so innocent now. "If I win, I get to kiss you. If you win, you get to kiss me. Nothing could be fairer than that."

  She laughed, but inside her head alarm bells were going off. The past had developed in Delilah a keen instinct for self-preservation, the same instinct that was telling her now that things between her and Bill were not quite as casual as she had thought.

  In fact, she had the distinct feeling that kissing this man, instead of being absolutely harmless, might be very dangerous indeed.

  Chapter 4

  The night was as soft as velvet. Silver waves slid gently across the sand, and a salty breeze whispered through the palms, blending with the music from a distant mariachi band. Delilah and Bill walked hand in hand along the deserted beach toward the cluster of hotels, talking quietly as the night sounds played in the background.

  "What does this remind you of?" Bill asked.

  "This, the sand and water and sky? Or this, the tickling thing you're doing to my hand?"

  "All of that. The night and us, what does it remind you of?"

  She thought for a moment. "It reminds me of sand and water and sky and you doing tickling things to my hand."

  "Boo, hiss. What are you, some kind of Scrooge? It's as plain as the nose on your face. This is Camelot."

  "This is Acapulco, and my nose has never in its life been plain," she said flatly. "I've been told more times than I can count that it's elegant."

  "All right, it's as elegant as the nose on your face that this is Camelot."

  "It's Camelot?" she asked with a sly smile.

  "It's Camelot."

  "Then dive into the water and bring me Excali-bur."

  He shook his head sadly. "You have to have something you can hold in your hand before you'll believe? All you have to do is listen to the magic. Hear that? That's Merlin telling you to wise up."

  "Merlin?" she asked skeptically. "It sounded more like crickets to me. But I'll take your word for it. Although I suspect that maybe a few teeth have worn off your gears, I'll take your word for it."

  "That's a good attitude," he said, then laughed as though he had a secret. "Try to hold on to it."

  Maybe it did feel a little like Camelot, and maybe the crickets did sound like Merlin, Delilah thought with a smile. At least they might if she were the nice, pleasant woman she was pretending to be. If she were the kind of woman who believed in listening for magic.

  And tonight I am, she told herself. Tonight I'm exactly that kind of woman.

  Suddenly she threw her hands up in the air as she whirled around and shouted, "Hello!"

  Bill laughed again, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and caught her waist with both hands. "Hello yourself, but you don't have to yell, I'm right here."

  She loved the rich sound of his laughter. It made her feel even warmer than his smile did. "I wasn't helloing you," she said haughtily.

  "Oh? Who were you helloing, Merlin?"

  "Don't be silly, I never talk to crickets," she said regally. "That was simply my way of making my presence known. I was beginning to feel awed by everything—the night and the sand and the water and the sky." And you, she added silently. Most of all you. "That's not good. Awed is not good at all. I want to be a part of it, not a spectator."

  He stared at her for a moment, smiling as though he found her and her silliness enchanting. Then he threw his head back and shouted, "Hello!"

  She listened as his voice joined the wind, the water, the mariachi band, and the crickets. Then she laughed with pleasure. "You see? Now you're a part of it too."

  "Now we're both a part of it," he agreed softly.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. "Do you feel peculiar? All floaty, as though you were walking on the moon? I don't think it's the wine—that was excellent wine, by the way—because I had only two glasses."

  "Three glasses."

  She waved a dismissing hand. "Two glasses, three, it doesn't matter. Alcohol doesn't affect me. The group and I used to have parties that would last for days. I don't see how we all lasted through medical school. Booger and Jack can come up with some of the most lethal concoctions. There was one they called the Fuzzy Navel. It was—"

  She broke off and looked up at him. "Whoops," she said quietly.

  His lips curved in a slow smile as he moved a step closer. "Well, what do you know about that? Lovely Lila is a doctor. You know what this means, don't you?"

  She backed away warily. "It means if you break your leg, medical attention is close at hand?"

  He laughed and took another step toward her. "Not close enough." Catching her hand, he placed it firmly on his neck. "Not nearly close enough. It's time to pay the forfeit, lovely Lila."

  She stared at him for a moment, then she shrugged and stood on tiptoes to press her lips to his. Delilah had intended the kiss to be a perfunctory one, a salute acknowledging the fact that he had won. That was what she had intended. She wasn't sure how the kiss went astray, but the minute her lips touched his, she knew it had.

  She had never felt such compelling sweetness, had never expected to feel it. But there it was just the same. It swirled through her, pulling her closer to him, and even closer, because although she had never felt it she knew instantly that she wanted more.

  Only a tiny part of the old hardhearted Delilah remained activ
e, and that part nagged at her, demanding that she think logically.

  It's the wine and the moonlight, the remnant of Delilah said. It's being far away from the restrictions of home. It's because he's a stranger you'll never see again. That's the only reason it seems so special.

  But as he pulled her down to the sand with him, pressing his lean, hard body to hers, it felt like more. It felt like so much more.

  Endless moments later, when she was drunk on the sweetness and wonder, he raised his head slightly to stare into her astounded eyes. "Lila," he whispered huskily.

  "Yes?" Her voice was even more husky than his.

  "That's all. Just Lila."

  She drew in a deep breath. "We should probably . . . you know, start back or something."

  "Or something," he agreed.

  Although it was difficult to think with his body pressing into hers, the bit of hardhearted Delilah was growing stronger. "No, really." she said as firmly as she could. "We need to get back to the hotel."

  He touched her face and said deliberately, "I'm a doctor too. Do you know what that means?"

  "It means you can fix your own broken leg."

  He chuckled. "It means that we have even more in common than we thought, but more important, it means that it is now my turn to pay the forfeit."

  "No—"

  But it was too late. He had already lowered his head, bringing his warm mouth to hers. And that was all it took for the incredible sweetness to begin again, as fresh and new and wonderful as the first time.

  Life had rules. It had certainties. One certainty was that the woman who was Delilah Jones stood for reality. Delilah Jones was a hard-nosed, hardhearted realist.

  That had been a certainty yesterday. An hour earlier. Five minutes earlier. But it was no longer the case, for the realist seemed to have disappeared. In Bill's arms reality was suspended. There was no painful past. No uncertain future. Only this moment. This moment stretching into forever.

  "Lila . . . Lila ... Lila," he whispered against her throat.

  "Yes . . . yes . . . yes," she whispered back, then they both laughed, at nothing, at everything.

  He moved his fingers slowly up her throat, then cupped her face with both hands. They were strong hands, hands to depend on. And as he stared again into her eyes, Delilah saw a different world there, real but different from anything she had known. She felt herself being pulled into the world in his eyes. It was a place of warmth and happiness. A place where darkness wasn't allowed.

  "Delilah?"

  Although the wcrd was spoken tentatively, it was nonetheless intrusive. Delilah reluctantly looked away from Bill and found Booger standing a foot away, shifting his feet as he looked down at them.

  "Hello, Booger." Her voice was unrecognizably dreamy. "Isn't it a beautiful night?"

  "I hate to bother you," Booger said hesitantly, "but Addie and I have joined forces, and we've got someone we want you to meet."

  Bill didn't take his gaze from Delilah's face when he said, "He's too tall, Booger."

  "Too tall?" Booger repeated in confusion.

  "Or too round or too square. Too hot or too cold," Bill said, smiling down at Delilah. "He's the wrong one, Booger."

  "Dee?" Booger said hesitantly.

  "Listen to the man," Delilah said, returning Bill's smile. "He seems to know what he's talking about."

  She didn't notice when Booger walked away because she had stepped again into the wonderful, secure world contained in Bill's eyes.

  "I can't understand why you have that silly little piece of green in your eye," she murmured. "Is it there just to please me?"

  "Why else would it be there? My mother says it's the devil in me trying to get out, but if it pleases you, then that's reason enough for it to be there."

  "It pleases me."

  "You please me," he whispered, his voice going hoarse again. "Everything about you pleases me because everything about you is special. If someone had asked me to dream the perfect woman, you would have been my dream."

  She felt a hot wave of guilt wash over her, spoiling everything. The woman he was talking about, the special woman, wasn't Delilah. That woman didn't exist. She was a fabrication, a product of an imagination Delilah hadn't known she possessed until she had met Bill.

  She couldn't let it continue. She had to stop it now, before it got too far out of hand. Bill was a wonderful man and shouldn't be made a fool of. Too wonderful.

  "Bill, I'm not who you think I am," she whispered. "I'm not special. I—"

  The rest of her confession was lost in his kiss. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to contradict a man who's kissing your neck," he murmured as he moved his lips to her throat. When she shivered in sensual response he drew back a fraction of an inch to stare into her eyes. "I know what you are; I know who you are. You're the melody that's been playing across the back of my mind for years. Elusive, haunting, and so incredibly beautiful."

  "I am?" she asked weakly.

  "You are."

  She wasn't, but, sweet heaven, she wished she were. At that moment she would have given anything to be the woman Bill thought she was.

  What could it hurt to pretend for a while longer, she asked herself. The deed was already done; a few minutes more couldn't possibly make any difference. For just a little while she wanted to be someone special.

  Raising one finger to outline his lips, she whispered, "Maybe you'd better kiss my neck again so I won't be able to contradict you."

  Delilah wasn't sure how long her "little while" with Bill lasted. She knew only that the moon had moved quite a distance in the sky by the time they stood up and walked arm in arm back to the hotel.

  Outside the door to her suite he leaned down and kissed her again, but this time it was as soft and light as an angel's kiss. Their eyes met for a moment, then she opened the door and went inside.

  ❧

  As soon as the door closed behind Delilah, Bill leaned against it and closed his eyes, a peculiar smile twisting his strong lips.

  Lila

  Over and over again the name echoed through his mind, through his body, right to the center of him. There was no room for anything else because she filled him completely. Only Lila.

  He was just an ordinary man. Why had he been chosen to receive such a gift? How could he have been so lucky? He had wanted to get away for a few days to take care of business and visit old friends. Then suddenly, without warning, heaven had dropped into his arms.

  Bill didn't question the fact that he had fallen in love with her so quickly, so absolutely. He knew only that he had. But swiftly, he reminded himself to move slowly and carefully with her. She had loosened up a little tonight, but she was still a realist who didn't believe in Camelot or guardian angels. And she had been hurt badly. Life had taught her to be skeptical. It was going to be a tough job convincing her that magic had been at work tonight on the beach.

  He laughed softly, remembering her wary reaction in the restaurant when he had told her he recognized her. He could imagine what she would say when he tried to convince her that they had found each other for a reason; that it wasn't merely a medical conference that had brought them both to Acapulco; that something fantastic had happened between them. She wouldn't believe him.

  Walking toward the elevator, he whistled softly under his breath. She would be a tough nut to crack all right, but he had never looked forward to anything so much in his life. He would convince her. He had no doubt about it. One way or the other, he would.

  ❧

  Delilah leaned against the door in the darkened room. She couldn't seem to catch her breath. There was a sweet, warm fog in her brain, and it made everything feel out of kilter. The whole world had shifted sideways with the first touch of Bill's lips.

  She couldn't understand it. Cool, calculating Delilah Jones was not supposed to feel this way. Never, never had she been carried away by emotions. Until now.

  Was it possible that she had become so involved in the game of pretending to be a "no
rmal" woman that she had begun to have the reactions a normal woman would have? That had to be it, she told herself firmly. She had simply been getting into her part. That was what made her feel so free, as though she hadn't a worry in the world.

  Pushing away from the door, she frowned. Her life had never been without worries. There was always something dark lurking in the corners of her mind, memories from the past, fears for the future.

  The fact that there was no darkness now made her positive that what she was feeling was not real. And Delilah needed reality. It was her only base. She wouldn't feel secure until she was her old pessimistic self again.

  She shook her head. This conference was turning out to be more than she had bargained for. Everything had seemed so clear-cut, even this morning when she had walked off the plane. She remembered—it seemed ages ago instead of only hours—following her friends into the suite they had booked especially so they could all be together like in the old days. She had looked around at each of their faces, letting the feeling soak in.

  As Delilah unpacked, lighthearted, nonsensical talk floated around the room. The scene was familiar and warm, bringing her a twinge of homesickness for the past.

  So many times during their years of medical training the group had gathered exactly like this. That was back when they were all sharing a shabby old two-bedroom apartment, back before Glory married Alan, before they had all gone their separate ways to practice medicine.

  Delilah looked back on those days as the most secure of her life. She hadn't been chosen a member of the group; she had more or less forced herself upon them. But they had accepted her. More than that, each in his own way had pulled her in and made her a part of his or her life.

  She let her gaze linger on each of them in turn. Athos, Porthos, Aramis, D'Artagnan, and Moe.

  That's what they had called themselves back then. They were an unlikely quintet, but somehow it worked, she thought, acknowledging their differences while giving thanks for the fate that had brought them all together back there in the beginning.