Scent of Roses & Season of Strangers

by Kat Martin

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out the details,” she said. Two months ago, Ron had been grumbling about changing offices, still new enough to need a certain amount of guidance that he wasn’t getting. Lately Patrick had started to help him. Now it looked like he just might stay.

  She still didn’t look at Patrick, not that it mattered. She could feel those intense blue eyes focused squarely on her face.

  “Did you get my message?” he asked, forcing her to acknowledge him. “I’d like to talk to you as soon as you’ve got time.”

  Her chin came up. “I’m afraid I’m busy right now.” She smiled sweetly at the others. “If all of you will excuse me…”

  Fred eyed her with interest as she started to walk away. Ron waved and headed for his desk to start processing his listing. Patrick simply fell into step behind her. When she reached her office, she started to close the door, but his foot slid into the opening.

  “I only need a minute.” His long body moved forward, forcing her backward into the room.

  Julie pasted on a smile. “I’m afraid I don’t have a minute, Patrick. I’ve got an important appointment. I have to leave.” She stared up at him, determined not to falter, having to tilt her head back since he was so damned tall. “We’ll have to talk some other time.”

  Patrick closed the door, the resounding thud as hollow as the feeling in her stomach. “We have to talk now.” Intense blue eyes bored into her, bright with determination.

  She held her ground a moment, then wavered and backed away. “We don’t have anything to say.” Turning toward her desk, she fumbled through some papers, then began to stuff them into her briefcase.

  “I think we have a lot to say. To begin with, I want to explain what happened the other night.”

  She turned, a cynical smile on her face. “That’s kind of you, Patrick. While you’re at it, maybe you’d also like to explain about spending the night with Felicia Salazar. I have a feeling that’s a far more interesting story.”

  Patrick’s black eyebrows drew together. She could see he was wondering how she knew.

  “I saw you with her. I was working late. I had just gotten into my car when the two of you drove into the parking lot.” She snapped the latch on the briefcase, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way her hands were shaking. “Now may I leave?” She started for the door, but Patrick blocked her way. In the light slanting in, his face looked ominous, cheekbones darkened by shadow, eyes a darker blue and swirling with some turbulent emotion.

  “I was with her, yes. But I didn’t sleep with her.”

  “Give me a break, Patrick. The woman had her tongue halfway down your throat in the parking lot.” She reached for the doorknob, but he caught her arm.

  “I didn’t have sex with her, Julie. I give you my word.”

  “You give me your word,” she repeated sarcastically.

  “Yes.”

  She stared up at him. His expression never faltered. How could he seem so damned sincere? Then again, of all the things he was, Patrick was never much of a liar. “You didn’t sleep with her,” she repeated.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t want to. I discovered it was you I wanted. No other woman would do.”

  She scoffed at that. “Oh, yeah. You wanted me so badly you walked out and left me standing half-naked in the living room, feeling like an absolute fool.”

  His hands came up to her shoulders, holding her firmly in place, yet his touch was strangely gentle. “I don’t blame you for being angry. I know I made a mess of things. That’s why I had to see you.”

  With an effort, she broke free. “Get out of my way, Patrick. I’ve heard all I’m going to.”

  He didn’t move.

  “I’m warning you, Patrick. Get out of my way or I just might do you bodily harm.”

  He almost smiled, a corner of his mouth curving faintly. God, he was so damned handsome.

  “What time will you be through?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Listen to me, Julie. One way or another, you’re going to hear me out. This conversation isn’t over until you listen to what I have to say.” He stood immobile for several seconds more, then reluctantly moved away.

  Julie turned the knob and jerked open the door. “Tell it to someone who cares.” Squaring her shoulders, ignoring the knot in her stomach, she brushed by him and walked out into the main part of the building.

  Fred and Ron both looked up as she passed but neither of them said a word. Several other salespeople had come in. The smell of a fresh pot of coffee drifted out from the small employee lounge. The phones were ringing, people scurrying about. If they noticed the tension between her and Patrick they didn’t show it.

  Julie worked hard all day, filling every spare moment, trying to keep her mind busy and her thoughts from straying to Patrick. Still, when she wasn’t thinking of Laura, worrying about what might be happening to her sister, she couldn’t help thinking about him.

  The formidable man she had left in her office was far stronger than the Patrick she had known, far more determined—and far more appealing.

  She wondered what he could possibly have to say.

  Damn it, there was nothing he could say. She had practically thrown herself at him and he had turned away, rejected her flatly for Felicia Salazar.

  There was nothing more to it, there couldn’t be.

  Still, she couldn’t stop remembering the way he had kissed her that night beneath the moon, fiercely hot, yet achingly tender. Even in his passion, he hadn’t been demanding as she would have expected. In fact, he had seemed almost shy. She could still see his face when he had finally turned away, taut with some strange dark emotion. If she had to name it, she might even call it fear.

  It was impossible, completely out of character. Yet whatever it was, it stirred her in some way, tempted her to hear what he wanted to say. She shook off the temptation. Patrick was too smooth, too polished at handling women for her to risk herself that way. She had done it once and look at the price she had paid.

  No, she wasn’t letting Patrick come near her.

  If she saw Patrick coming, she would run like a deer the opposite way.

  * * *

  Val wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel that hung around his neck and kept on running. It was six o’clock Monday morning. He had already run ten miles, but today it wasn’t enough. Not after the dream he’d had, the erotic images he battled every time he had fallen asleep. Images of the times Patrick had made love to Felicia. Only it wasn’t the dark-skinned Brazilian beauty he saw in his vision—it was Julie. She was naked and responsive, pressing her lovely full breasts into his mouth, clawing his back and begging him to take her.

  He had gladly obliged, dragging her down on the floor and spreading her wide for him, driving himself inside her again and again. Still he’d awakened hard and throbbing.

  Shaking off the images, he jogged on, rounding the corner of Alden onto Elm, his feet padding rhythmically, returning him to his apartment. Once he got there, he stripped off his sweat-drenched clothes and headed for the shower, pausing only a moment to add a few more lines to the journal entry he had made earlier in the day.

  The water felt good raining down on his head, soaking away the soreness in his muscles, draining the last of the sexual tension from his body. He toweled himself dry, shaved, and dressed to go into the office.

  It took a load of concentration, but eventually he forced his mind to focus on work. Several calls came in, the last one with Sarah Bonham, chief administrator of the Ventura County Teachers’ Pension Fund.

  “Mr. Starky over at the Westwind Corporation suggested I call you,” she said. “He thought, as the former owner and developer of the Brookhaven condos, you might have some pertinent informatio
n. We were hoping you’d have time to show the members of our executive committee around the site sometime this week.”

  “I’d be happy to,” he lied, then was conveniently unable to find time in his busy schedule for them to meet. He would call them next week, he assured her, knowing full well he had no intention of setting up an appointment.

  If he stretched the time out long enough, chances were his sojourn as Patrick Donovan would be over and without his assistance, hopefully the deal would never be made. The teachers wouldn’t have squandered the money in their retirement fund and Patrick wouldn’t be around to go to jail.

  He drummed his fingers on the desk next to the phone. Then he smiled. Sandini and McPherson wouldn’t be pleased when they discovered their fraudulent plans had been thwarted. Perhaps he would leave this place with the knowledge he had done at least some small measure of good.

  Of course, that wasn’t really his purpose. His objective was to study Julie Ferris, and since his arrival he had been hard at work.

  By using the modem on the primitive computer in his office, coupled with the ship’s sophisticated computer banks, he had collected a number of files on her. He had locked into the Internal Revenue system and pulled up all the records associated with her Social Security number, which was easily obtained through Donovan Real Estate’s accounting department. It was amazing what he had found.

  Since the number had been issued during her junior year in high school when she had gotten her first job, he could track her employment record. She had worked since she was sixteen, starting as a clerk at the gift-wrap counter of a Macy’s department store. She had earned enough to put her through college, where another computer bank had turned up the fact she earned mostly straight A’s and graduated at the top of her class. Her financial records were there: bank accounts, school loans, home loans; even medical information could be accessed by the claim forms she had submitted to the insurance companies.

  From what he could discover, Julie lived a conservative life. She earned far more than the average American, but she saved a good deal, and paid her bills on time. Because of its location on Malibu Beach, the house she had purchased was expensive, though in style it was fairly modest. The clothes she bought were tasteful, but not at the upper end of the scale.

  Medically, she seemed healthy, rarely needing more than a yearly physical. Her checking account showed a good chunk of her earnings went to pay her sister’s bills.

  He had pages of information on her, but the fact remained: even with all the data he had collected, the tests they had run on subjects like Julie, and all his earthly observations, he could find no accounting for why Julie Ferris and a small percentage of others should have the mental wherewithal to resist their sophisticated brain examinations.

  Val raked a hand through his wavy black hair, stood up and walked over to the window that faced out into the office. Down the hall, the object of his thoughts appeared, walking in through the back door as she usually did, without a wasted step, full of energy and purpose. But Val had a purpose of his own and he was determined to see it accomplished. He set his jaw and started for the door.

  * * *

  Julie saw him coming, his long legs eating up the distance between them. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, a French-cuffed white shirt with his initials on the pocket, a gray and burgundy striped tie. He was the kind of man women noticed on the street, yet since his heart attack, his looks had taken on a different dimension. There was a solidness about him that wasn’t there before, an air of command and purpose. He seemed wise beyond his years, filled with confidence and self-possession.

  It made him infinitely more attractive.

  It made Julie even more wary. She wanted to run for the door.

  Patrick smiled as he approached her, softening the lines of his face. “I’m glad I caught you. How about lunch? There’s a nice little Mandarin restaurant—”

  “God, Patrick, don’t you ever eat anything but Asian food? I’d think you’d get tired of it after a while.”

  A black, well-formed eyebrow arched up. “How about The Grill? It’s only across the street. We can eat and be back in an hour.”

  “No thanks. I’ve got too much to do.” She started walking and this time he didn’t stop her. She went out a couple of times on her usual appointments and errands, but whenever she came back in, he seemed to magically reappear. He asked her to join him for coffee, though she knew he’d been avoiding caffeine. He asked her to go for a drink after work, which she flatly refused.

  At seven o’clock, she left the office, only to find him standing next to her car in the parking lot. His Porsche sat parked in the space beside it, the big engine growling and the door ajar.

  Julie walked past them both. “Good night, Patrick,” she said as if he would simply disappear.

  “Wrong.” He caught her arm, spun her around, and took a big step toward her. “I happen to know you don’t have anything scheduled for this evening, which means you finally have time for me.”

  “Now you’re the one who’s wrong. I don’t have time for you—nor will I be able to fit you in at any time in the foreseeable future.”

  A wolfish smile curved his lips. It was unlike any smile she had ever seen. “You aren’t avoiding me this time, lady. You’re going to hear what I have to say. You’re coming back to my apartment where we can talk and no one will disturb us. You’re going to get in my car and I’m going to drive you. If you don’t, I’m going to haul you over my shoulder and put you in the car myself.”

  Julie’s mouth dropped open. Patrick had never spoken to her like this. She couldn’t believe he was actually threatening her, but she could see very well he meant every word.

  “Well?” he said ominously, taking a threatening step closer. “What’s it going to be?”

  Julie stiffened her shoulders. “Obviously, Patrick, if it means that much to you…” She started toward his Porsche, pulled open the door and slid into the seat, her nose stuck into the air. Patrick closed the door behind her.

  Catching his satisfied expression, she almost got out again. Might have, but one look at the hard-edged, determined lines of his face, and the idea flew right out the window. Furious yet strangely intrigued that he would go to such lengths, she settled herself in the seat, waited for him to get in, and let him drive her away. A few minutes later they reached his apartment on Elm Street, just off Burton Way.

  They rode the elevator to his penthouse in silence. Patrick unlocked the door and they walked in.

  “How about a drink?” He shrugged out of his dark gray suit coat and tossed it over a chair then casually loosened his tie. “You look like you could use one.”

  Julie glanced around, refusing to look at him. “I’ll take a glass of white wine, if you have one.”

  She hadn’t been back to his apartment since their one disastrous date eight years ago. Julie studied the masculine tones of black and gray, the sculpted acrylic coffee table in front of the gray wool sofa, all accented tastefully by the bright splashes of color in the modern art on the walls. The room was furnished sparsely, yet the place had a surprisingly comfortable feel.

  A fact that shouldn’t have surprised her. Patrick had always had marvelous taste.

  Which made her think of Felicia Salazar. She was frowning when he returned with a glass of white wine. His own stemmed crystal glass was filled with Perrier.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, it certainly looks unpleasant.”

  She flashed him a tight, mocking smile. “Actually, I was thinking of your girlfriend, Felicia. I was admiring this room and your exquisite taste…in both decor and women.”

  His expression looked almost amused. “I’m glad you like my apartment—and Felicia isn’t my girlfriend. I don’t think she ever was.”

  “You don’t think?”

  “All right,
I used to enjoy her in bed. As nearly as I can recall, we never shared anything else. I realized that the other night. I’m no longer interested in that sort of bonding.”

  Bonding. It seemed an odd choice of words. Julie toyed with the rim of her glass, running her finger around the edge as she sat down on the sofa. “Why am I here, Patrick? What exactly do you want?”

  He took a seat beside her. Vivid blue eyes fixed on her face. “I think you know what I want. I think you want it, too.”

  Julie said nothing. She was suddenly remembering the way he had kissed her that night on the deck above the sea. She could almost feel his hands on her breasts, the way his tongue had ringed her nipples. Inside her lacy white bra, they began to pucker and tighten.

  “If you wanted me, then why did you leave?”

  He studied her over the rim of his glass as if he needed time to choose his words. “Believe it or not, I was frightened.”

  “You? Why on earth would you be frightened?”

  He reached out and a long dark finger moved along her jaw. “I’m not certain exactly. It all seemed so unreal. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. I’ve never wanted a woman so badly. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth.”

  Julie just stared at him. It couldn’t be true. It could not possibly be.

  “I know the kind of woman you are,” he continued. “I know the gift you offered came at a high price to you. I was frightened of what it might mean.”

  Fear. She had seen it that night in his eyes. As impossible as it seemed, Patrick was telling the truth.

  “Making love to you meant I cared for you, Patrick. That I saw something in you I never saw in you before. I was beginning to believe in you. I was beginning to think you might actually have changed, that you might really have feelings for me.” She glanced away, a tight ache building in her throat. “When I saw you with Felicia I knew I’d made a mistake.” Tears threatened. She pressed her nails into the palm of her hand so she wouldn’t start crying in front of him.