by Sam Crescent
“I have? What do you mean by again? We never had that much to begin with!” Paige stepped closer and leaned in as if to read the computer. He flipped the display over to the joint account. He enlarged the font so she could read for herself. What kind of shenanigans had been going on before the accident? Was Paige really clueless or was she complicit?
But most importantly, what he still didn’t know and needed to know was what happened to the ten million that had been in the Deutschland account? He had an idea it had been converted to cash and then stashed somewhere.
“I don’t know,” he said to Paige. “Don’t remember any of this. The last withdrawal before the accident was twenty thousand. I found the money in another account and transferred it back.”
“Another account,” Paige said pensively.
“Yes.” He paused and considered his response for a second. “A money market account with the brokerage.”
“That account had money in it? He … you told me you lost all your investments day trading. Were you still trading?”
Eli removed his fingers from the keyboard and placed them in his lap. He turned to look at Paige standing beside him. Haunted shadows framed her eyes. Her curls were unkempt. But the worst part was the trembling of her chin, like she was doing everything within her power not to cry. It broke him. Eli stood and pulled her into his arms whispering, “I don’t remember. I’m sorry. I wish I could explain, but I can’t.”
And he couldn’t. He could never understand how any man could be cruel to Paige given her situation. The rage inside him burned. He would take care of this, take care of her. Later, when it was safe.
“At least you’re alive, Eli.” She clutched his t-shirt in one fist and wrapped an arm around his waist and laid her head against his chest. “All this time I thought you were dead.” She hiccupped a sob.
Eli stroked her hair and said, “Shh-shh-shh. Don’t cry. I’m here now. I’ll fix everything.” He placed both palms against her cheeks, wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t worry. You never have to worry again. Okay?”
She peered up at him with those glittering, whiskey-colored eyes and nodded. At this close range, what did she see? Could she see all the lies finally being revealed? Did she see him as he was now or how she remembered him? Her breath hitched and her focus fell to his mouth. Her body was pressed against his, warm and lithe and, goddamn, every curve seemed to fit his body perfectly. He knew he shouldn’t. It wasn’t right, but yet it was in a twisted sort of way.
“Eli?” Her gaze raised to meet his. He didn’t know what she was going to ask him, didn’t want to hear her doubts and fears and did the only thing he could think of to stay her worries.
He kissed her.
Chapter Two
Eli hadn’t kissed her like this in so long she’d nearly forgotten he was capable. Even during sexual foreplay he wasn’t that much into sloppy lip locks, as he called them. This kiss, however, was passionate, but it was also tender. Ripples of desire pulsed through her, electricity dancing like St. Elmo’s Fire through her womb. Wet, slick heat threatened to soak her panties, and she reacted by clenching her thighs together.
Eli’s hands swept up and down her spine, caressed the back of her neck. Fingers wove into the strands of her hair and cupped her skull to pull her face and mouth closer, to hold her to him as his lips ravaged hers. His hunger for her grew as the kiss continued.
This was crazy! Her body softened and readied itself for his. She hadn’t felt desire this intense for Eli in many months, maybe even years. She thought she loved him. She satisfied his desires. But her desires she’d pushed way down in priority. It was too much work sometimes. In many respects, she was a few freedoms away from sexual slavery.
A second wave of liquid fire overcame her and touched off the aching emptiness and yearning to be filled. Her hips moved against his. She wanted this, wanted him. It had been so long, too long, since her libido had ratcheted up to this level.
And then, as fast as the kiss had started, it ended. Eli abruptly stepped away from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s too soon.”
Paige swayed. Her lips felt raw and swollen, her brain in a fog. “Too soon?” She raised a hand and smoothed her brow to regain her composure. “O-of course. Your memory?”
Eli cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes.”
Paige couldn’t help feeling the bitter irony of being the one to want more and Eli being the naysayer. “I understand.” Boy, did she. Unlike Eli, she respected the right to say no. Maybe this accident would bring them both new insights into their relationship, why they were still together, and something she had wrestled with many times: whether they were worth fighting for.
He must have taken her surprise for despair over his rejection because he quickly tacked on, “It’s not that I don’t want to, Paige.”
“Say no more. I understand. I do.” She closed her eyes and pondered where they went next. He needed time. She got that. “If you don’t mind, I’m a little tired after all of…” she waved her hand, “This. And it’s late. There’s the guest bedroom or … your usual side of our bed if or when you’re ready. No expectations.” She nodded and then turned and headed to her—their—bedroom.
****
Eli reminded himself for the thousandth time why keeping his distance from Paige was the wisest plan. She would have welcomed him back into her bed, their bed. He’d felt her desire for him, or the man she remembered. Problem was, he wasn’t that man.
Paige seemed to meet his gaze in the last few seconds before she closed her bedroom door. Seemed to meet, because realistically her eyesight wasn’t acute enough to see him well from that distance. His body considered that a minor detail, however, and urged him to go to her, to take what she offered. His head, however, understood the truth and the larger stakes.
With a weary sigh of resignation, he walked into the guest bedroom and shut the door. An alarm clock on the nightstand read 10:00 PM. His computer hunt had taken longer than he’d assumed. That was okay though. The time had been well spent, the knowledge gained beneficial.
Eli scanned the bedroom decorated in pale yellows and bright greens. The room was immaculate and from appearances was rarely used. He opened the door to the walk-in closet. Inside were men’s clothes—his clothes—mostly suits and formal wear. Several pairs of men’s shoes lined the floor. On the right side, shelves rose from floor to ceiling, filled with men’s sweaters and workout apparel mostly. On the left were several plastic file boxes that a quick perusal told him contained legal paperwork, tax records, and receipts.
He grabbed the top box and carried it to the bed.
Two hours later, he was losing his patience and rapidly flipping through the files in the last box. He was almost ready to toss in the towel when he happened upon an envelope marked “Spinelli Job.” Inside the envelope was a safe deposit box agreement in his name and a key. “Oh, Eli. For a punk money launderer and embezzler, you weren’t very imaginative, were you?” Eli held the key up to the light to read the etched characters. “Number 1572.” He scratched his head. Surely it couldn’t be that easy.
The boxes all restored to order, Eli undressed and slipped between the covers a few minutes before 1:00 AM.
And woke an hour later with a major bladder emergency.
Throwing off the covers, he realized he needed a bathroom and fast. No time to dress, he banked on Paige being asleep.
The hallway was dark. No big deal. Without any further thought, he darted toward the bathroom naked. Once safely locked inside, he began to pee. He had plenty of time to scope out the room. The décor was similar to the guest bedroom with yellows and greens and floral prints, very feminine and very unlike the master bedroom and bath he’d seen earlier.
The medicine cabinet was empty except for a few odds and ends—a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush still in the package, a small bottle of aspirin, a wrapped cake of soap bearing a hotel’s name and a bottle of mouthw
ash.
Eli washed his hands, but found no hand towel in the rack where one should have been. A peek under the sink and he located a celery green hand towel. He also found a zippered lunchbox. Assuming he’d find an assortment of first aid supplies or over-the-counter medicines he nearly passed on opening it. He was glad he didn’t when he discovered the thick stack of photographs inside. He re-zipped the lunchbox intending to take it back to the guest bedroom to continue his snooping.
Leaving the bathroom, he heard her gasp before he saw her. There, at the end of the hallway near the kitchen, stood Paige. She wore a thin gauzy nightgown and held a glass of what was probably water.
“You scared me to death!” she cried, hand against her chest.
Eli recalled his current naked state and reflexively shielded his genitals with the lunchbox. In the dim light, with her eyesight as bad as it was, she could see far less of him than he was seeing of her. The backlighting from the kitchen had rendered her nightgown nearly translucent. Pale pink nipples tented the fabric over a pair of full breasts. A dark triangular shadow drew his gaze to the apex of a pair of long, slim legs. He adjusted the lunchbox to cover his burgeoning interest. “So sorry! Nature called,” he said with a groan and darted back inside the guest bedroom, hastily shutting the door behind him.
Once the absurdity of his situation wore off, he took a second to process what had just happened and twice that long to berate himself for being caught. He cringed that he had reacted like a frightened virgin. Eli and Paige had been lovers. She’d seen him, touched him. But not him, the guy who was ‘him’ before.
The lunchbox he brought with him to the bedroom lay on the bed where he’d tossed it. He hoped Paige was on her way back to bed. He wasn’t the least bit sleepy, not any more. That left many hours to peruse the photos, search the apartment, and spend more time on the computer.
He crawled on the bed and began to look through the photos. He stared at pre-accident Eli, with his shaggy, dark hair curling at the tops of his ears, clear blue eyes, and angular jawline, a man far handsomer than he was now. The hair was nearly the same. As for the changes to his face, well, the accident and reconstructive surgery were to blame for those, weren’t they? Paige was younger, too, probably in her teens when the shots were taken. It surprised him that their mutual history spanned so many years. He stared at one of the more recent couple shots. Paige leaned into Eli with one arm around his waist. The Eli in the picture wore a smirk, his attention focused elsewhere. Asshole!
Once he hit the plastic bottom of the lunchbox, he restacked all the pictures inside and zipped it shut. Which of them, Paige or Eli, had stashed the photographs under the guest bathroom sink in a lunchbox, like a sentimental treasure hidden by one from the other? He had a strong suspicion it was Paige.
Fatigue finally caught up to him. He woke, still sitting up, lunchbox on his lap with his head lolled forward. There would be more opportunities to continue his search later. He could spare a few more hours of shut-eye.
****
Paige dreamed of naked men. She woke with a smile on her face, which surprised her since she hadn’t been all that interested in Eli’s body right before the accident. Sex had become a command performance, something to be gotten over with as quickly as possible. Eli hadn’t cared one iota as long as he got what he wanted. They had reached an accord on the matter.
So why the R-rated dreams? Because she was pretty sure she’d caught Eli in his birthday suit. At least it seemed that way based on his surprised yelp and rapid retreat.
Something was definitely different about Eli. Without all his memories restored, he wasn’t the Eli she knew. This Eli was a familiar stranger. He didn’t even kiss like her Eli. His face and body had changed, too, because of his injuries and lengthy recovery.
Paige recalled their kiss. Her body’s reaction to his had been a re-awakening. In the early days of their relationship, Eli could make her toes curl. This Eli made not only her toes curl, but every hair on her body, including her eyelashes. Touching him had been like static electricity discharging with a stinging snap. His lips had been soft and warm. His mouth had tasted of coffee and cream with a hint of peppermint. The shower he’d taken had replaced the antiseptic hospital smell with his familiar soap and shampoo scents.
Why had he ended the kiss? Maybe he didn’t find her attractive. Remove the emotion, the common history, and she was unremarkable? Not desirable? Had he lost his spark for her the way she had lost her spark for him a long time ago, when his words had become less loving and more critical and impatient?
Paige’s alarm went off at its usual time, 7:00 AM. Routine and familiarity were important to her. Every night she selected her clothes for the next day and laid them out on her dresser, socks, underwear and shoes included. Jewelry she took a pass on. Too easy to misplace, too frivolous for a person on a fixed budget, too much for Eli to give a shit about buying as a gift.
She dressed quickly and went into the kitchen. Cereal seemed the most likely option in her sparse pantry. If that fell through, she had cans of tuna and green beans. Not the most appetizing breakfast, but she had been scraping by without Eli’s income since the accident.
“There isn’t anything to eat.” Eli was awake and in the kitchen. The refrigerator slammed shut. “No milk. No bread. No eggs or bacon or sausage.”
Was he disappointed or pissed off? “There isn’t much food, no.”
“We’ll eat out and then pick up groceries on the way home.” Eli swept past her. “Come on.”
Stunned, Paige stood frozen in her spot. Eli ate out. She rarely did. She cooked easy dishes or ordered take out. Sometimes Eli ordered her a meal and brought it home after one of his client dinners. The few times they had dined out together, she still cringed remembering. Eli was often rude to the servers. It didn’t take much to set him off and prompt a tornado of abuse.
“I could order a delivery from the grocery store,” she offered. “They’ll be here in less than an hour if I pay extra.”
“That’s bullshit. I’m hungry now and there’s a great diner two blocks away.” The chain on the door rattled.
This sounded more like the Eli she remembered—domineering and hasty.
It pained her to say it. She knew he’d blow up at her, but the truth was…
“I’m not comfortable crossing busy streets with Daisy yet. Walking that far … I don’t know, Eli.” He moved closer. Was he angry? Paige shrank back and bowed her head. “I’m sorry. You go ahead and maybe bring me back something, like you usually do?”
He was close enough to reach out, to touch her, to shove her, and he did. But his touch wasn’t angry. Instead he drew her arm through his. “You can leave Daisy here this time. I’ve got you. We’ll walk slowly.”
Paige slowly exhaled. She touched Eli’s arm with her other hand. His forearm was warm and firm. She ran her fingers in the same direction the hair there grew, its texture soft and silky. Odd. This Eli was so different. She gazed up toward his face, a blur of flesh and shadows where his eyes and eyebrows should be. “What if I trip?”
“I’ll catch you,” he said in a husky voice. “I’ll carry you if need be.”
Paige laughed. No, this was definitely not the Eli she remembered. She might have panicked at the realization were her relief not so overpowering, so welcome.
****
Did Paige ever leave the apartment? What kind of monster went to dinner without his girlfriend and maybe, maybe, brought her back a meal? The kind of monster that didn’t deserve to live, that’s what. If old Eli were in front of him, he’d strangle the life out of him.
He tightened the crook of his arm, drawing Paige closer to his body. Her warmth and scent were intoxicating, like a hot apple pie straight from the oven or a blueberry crumble or a cinnamon roll. Damn, he was hungry, but he didn’t dare walk faster if Paige was unsure of her footing.
He noticed the restaurant ahead. Choosing his words carefully he said, “I saw this bistro yesterday right before the cab dro
pped me off. The driver said it was good.”
Paige turned her head toward him, her brows knitted together. What now? “We’ve been to it before. You weren’t a fan.”
He stopped abruptly, his free arm shot out in front of Paige to check her forward momentum. “What about you? Did you like it?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. Did you like the restaurant? No point in going if you don’t like it.”
“Well, I, uh … I don’t know. It’s been awhile. I remember the food was very good.”
He nodded. She was pulling her punches in her reluctance to tell him he’d been an ass about taking her out to eat. She probably loved the place. “Then, let’s make up for lost time.” He released her to grasp and open the door for her. She waited quietly for him to direct her, but instead of drawing her arm back through his, he encircled her waist and drew her close to his side. She reciprocated and wrapped hers around him.
She felt right, tucked under his arm, like she was made to fit exactly in that hollowed out part of his body. Funny that. He never noticed the empty space until she filled it.
“Two,” he said to the hostess at the front.
With a nod and the flicker of a frown, the woman looked at him then Paige. She wasn’t the most welcoming hostess, but snatched up two oversized, laminated menus and led them to a booth for two in an isolated part of the restaurant.
“Thank you,” he said smiling. The hostess handed them menus and told them drolly that their server would be right with them. Clearly the hostess wasn’t so easily won over.
Paige sat quietly across from him, her face unreadable, her eyes unfocused.
“Do you need me to read anything off the menu to you?” he asked, unsure if his offer would be welcomed or not.
“I assume they have bacon, eggs, and toast, right?”
Eli shifted his gaze to his menu and did a quick scan. “Yes, they have that, waffles, pancakes, omelets, hash, you name it. Looks like the German pancakes are the specialty.”