Mind Over Matter

by Nora Roberts

  Because her jaw was beginning to ache, she relaxed it. “You thought? You didn’t think at all. You drop by the office and calmly assume that I’ll drop everything and run off with you. What if I’d had plans?

  “Then that would’ve been too bad.” He swung easily off the ramp toward the hills.

  “Too bad for whom?”

  “For the plans.” He punched in the car lighter and sent her a mild smile. “I have no intention of letting you out of my sight for the next three days.”

  “You have no intention?” The fire was rising as she shifted in her seat toward him. “What about my intention? Maybe you think it’s very male and macho to just—just bundle a woman off for a weekend without asking, without any discussion, but I happen to prefer being consulted. Stop the car.”

  “Not a chance.” David had expected this reaction. Even looked forward to it. He touched the lighter to the tip of his cigarette. He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much for days. Since the last time he’d been with her.

  Her breath came out in a long, slow hiss. “I don’t find abductions appealing.”

  “Didn’t think I did, either.” He blew out a lazy stream of smoke. “Guess I was wrong.”

  She flopped back against her seat, arms folded. “You’re going to be sorry.”

  “I’m only sorry I didn’t think of it before.” With his elbow resting lightly on the open window, he drove higher into the hills, with A.J. fuming beside him. The minute he stopped the car in his drive, A.J. pushed open her door, snatched her purse up and began to walk. When he grabbed her arm, she spun around, holding the pastel-dyed leather like a weapon.

  “Want to fight?”

  “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.” She yanked her arm out of his hold. “I’m walking back.”

  “Oh?” He look a quick look at the slim skirt, thin hose and fragile heels. “You wouldn’t make it the first mile in those shoes.”

  “That’s my problem.”

  He considered a minute, then sighed. “I guess we’ll just carry through with the same theme.” Before she realized his intention, he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her over his shoulder.

  Too stunned to struggle, she blew hair out of her eyes. “Put me down.”

  “In a few minutes,” he promised as he walked toward the house.

  “Now.” She whacked him smartly on the back with her purse. “This isn’t funny.”

  “Are you kidding?” When he stuck his key in the lock, she began to struggle. “Easy, A.J., you’ll end up dropping on your head.”

  “I’m not going to tolerate this.” She tried to kick out and found her legs pinned behind the knee. “David, this is degrading. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if you get hold of yourself now, I’ll forget the whole thing.”

  “No deal.” He started up the steps.

  “I’ll give you a deal,” she said between her teeth as she made a futile grab for the railing. “If you put me down now, I won’t kill you.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  “Okay.” With a quick twist of his body, he had her falling backward. Even as her eyes widened in shock, he was tumbling with her onto the bed.

  “What the hell’s gotten into you?” she demanded as she struggled to sit up.

  “You,” he said, so simply she stopped in the act of shoving him away. “You,” he repeated, cupping the back of her neck. “I thought about you the whole time I was gone. I wanted you in Chicago. I wanted you in the airport, and thirty thousand feet up I still wanted you.”

  “You’re—this is crazy.”

  “Maybe. Maybe it is. But when I was on that plane flying back to L.A. I realized that I wanted you here, right here, alone with me for days.”

  His fingers were stroking up and down her neck, soothing. Her nerves were stretching tighter and tighter. “If you’d asked,” she began.

  “You’d have had an excuse. You might have spent the night.” His fingers inched up into her hair. “But you’d have found a reason you couldn’t stay longer.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Why haven’t you spent a weekend with me before?”

  Her fingers linked and twisted. “There’ve been reasons.”

  “Yeah.” He put his hand over hers. “And the main one is you’re afraid to spend more than a few hours at a time with me.” When she opened her mouth, he shook his head to cut her off. “Afraid if you do, I might just get too close.”

  “I’m not afraid of you. That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, I don’t think you are. I think you’re afraid of us.” He drew her closer. “So am I.”

  “David.” The word was shaky. The world was suddenly shaky. Just passion, she reminded herself again. That’s what made her head swim, her heart pound. Desire. Her arms slid up his back. It was only desire. “Let’s not think at all for a while.” She touched her lips to his and felt resistance as well as need.

  “Sooner or later we’re going to have to.”

  “No.” She kissed him again, let her tongue trace lightly over his lips. “There’s no sooner, no later.” Her breath was warm, tempting, as it fluttered over him. “There’s only now. Make love with me now, in the light.” Her hands slipped under his shirt to tease and invite.

  Her eyes were open and on his, her lips working slowly, steadily, to drive him to the edge. He swore, then pulled her to him and let the madness come.

  “It’s good for you.”

  “So’s calves’ liver,” A.J. said breathlessly, and paused to lean against a tree. “I avoid that, too.”

  They’d taken the path behind his house, crossed the stream and continued up. By David’s calculations they’d gone about three-quarters of a mile. He walked back to stand beside her. “Look.” He spread his arm wide. “It’s terrific, isn’t it?”

  The trees were thick and green. Birds rustled the leaves and sang for the simple pleasure of sound. Wildflowers she’d never seen before and couldn’t name pushed their way through the underbrush and battled for the patches of sunlight. It was, even to a passionately avowed city girl, a lovely sight.

  “Yes, it’s terrific. You tend to forget there’s anything like this when you’re down in L.A.”

  “That’s why I moved up here.” He put an arm around her shoulder and absently rubbed his hand up and down. “I was beginning to forget there was any place other than the fast lane.”

  “Work, parties, meetings, parties, brunch, lunch and cocktails.”

  “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, coming up here after a day in the factory keeps things in perspective. If a project bombs in the ratings, the sun’s still going to set.”

  She thought about it, leaning into him a bit as he stroked her arm. “If I blow a deal, I go home, lock the doors, put on my headset and drown my brain in Rachmaninoff.”

  “Same thing.”

  “But usually I kick something first.”

  He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever works. Wait till you see the view from the top.”

  A.J. leaned down to massage her calf. “I’ll meet you back at the house. You can draw me a picture.”

  “You need the air. Do you realize we’ve barely been out of bed for thirty-six hours?”

  “And we’ve probably logged about ten hours’ sleep.” Straightening a bit, she stretched protesting muscles. “I think I’ve had enough health and nature for the day.”

  He looked down at her. She wasn’t A. J. Fields now, in T-shirt and jeans and scuffed boots. But he still knew how to play her. “I guess I’m in better shape than you are.”

  “Like hell.” She pushed away from the tree.

  Determined to keep up, she strode along beside him, up the winding dirt path, until sweat trickled down her back. Her leg muscles whimpered, reminding her she’d neglected her weekly tennis games for over a month. At last, aching and exhausted, she dropped down on a rock.

  “That’s it. I give up.”

  “Another hund
red yards and we start circling back.”

  “Nope.”

  “A.J., it’s shorter to go around this way than to turn around.”

  Shorter? She shut her eyes and asked herself what had possessed her to let him drag her through the woods. “I’ll just stay here tonight. You can bring me back a pillow and a sandwich.”

  “I could always carry you.”

  She folded her arms. “No.”

  “How about a bribe?”

  Her bottom lip poked out as she considered. “I’m always open to negotiations.”

  “I’ve got a bottle of cabernet sauvignon I’ve been saving for the right moment.”

  She rubbed at a streak of dirt on her knee. “What year?”

  “Seventy-nine.”

  “A good start. That might get me the next hundred yards or so.”

  “Then there’s that steak I took out of the freezer this morning, the one I’m going to grill over mesquite.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.” She brought her tongue over her top lip and thought she could almost taste it. “That should get me halfway back down.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Flowers. Dozens of them.”

  She lifted a brow. “By the time we get back, the florist’ll be closed.”

  “City-oriented,” he said with a sigh. “Look around you.”

  “You’re going to pick me flowers?” Surprised, and foolishly pleased, she lifted her arms to twine them around his neck. “That should definitely get me through the front door.”

  Smiling, she leaned back as he stepped off the path to gather blossoms. “I like the blue ones,” she called out, and laughed as he muttered at her.

  She hadn’t expected the weekend to be so relaxed, so easy. She hadn’t known she could enjoy being with one person for so long. There were no schedules, no appointments, no pressing deals. There were simply mornings and afternoons and evenings.

  It seemed absurd that something as mundane as fixing breakfast could be fun. She’d discovered that spending the time to eat it instead of rushing into the morning had a certain appeal. When you weren’t alone. She didn’t have a script or a business letter to deal with. And she had to admit, she hadn’t missed them. She’d done nothing more mind-teasing in two days than a crossword puzzle. And even that, she remembered happily, had been interrupted.

  Now he was picking her flowers. Small, colorful wildflowers. She’d put them in a vase by the window where they’d be cozy and bright. And deadly.

  For an instant, her heart stopped. The birds were silent and the air was still as glass. She saw David as though she were looking through a long lens. As she watched, the light went gray. There was pain, sharp and sudden, as her knuckles scraped over the rock.

  “No!” She thought she shouted, but the word came out in a whisper. She nearly slipped off the rock before she caught herself and stumbled toward him. She gasped for his name twice before it finally ripped out of her. “David! No, stop.”

  He straightened, but only had time to take a step toward her before she threw herself into his arms. He’d seen that blank terror in her eyes before, once before, when she’d stood in an old empty room watching something no one else could see.

  “Aurora, what is it?” He held her close while she shuddered, though he had no idea how to soothe. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t pick any more. David, don’t.” Her fingers dug hard into his back.

  “All right, I won’t.” Hands firm, he drew her away to study her face. “Why?”

  “Something’s wrong with them.” The fear hadn’t passed. She pressed the heel of her hand against her chest as if to push it out. “Something’s wrong with them,” she repeated.

  “They’re just flowers.” He showed her what he held in his hands.

  “Not them. Over there. You were going to pick those over there.”

  He followed the direction of her gaze to a large sunny rock with flowers around the perimeter. He remembered he’d just been turning in their direction when her shouts had stopped him. “Yes, I was. Let’s have a look.”

  “No.” She grabbed him again. “Don’t touch them.”

  “Calm down,” he said quietly enough, though his own nerves were starting to jangle. Bending, he picked up a stick. Letting the flowers he’d already picked fall, he took A.J.’s hand in his and dragged the end of the stick along the edge of the rock through a thick clump of bluebells. He heard the hissing rattle, felt the jolt of the stick he held as the snake reared up and struck. A.J.’s hand went limp in his. David held on to the stick as he pulled her back to the path. He wore boots, thick and sturdy enough to protect against the snakes scattered through the hills. But he’d been picking flowers, and there had been nothing to protect the vulnerable flesh of his hands and wrists.

  “I want to go back,” she said flatly.

  She was grateful he didn’t question, didn’t probe or even try to soothe. If he had, she wasn’t sure what idiotic answers she’d have given him. A.J. had discovered more in that one timeless moment than David’s immediate danger. She’d discovered she was in love with him. All her rules, her warnings, her precautions hadn’t mattered. He could hurt her now, and she might never recover.

  So she didn’t speak. Because he was silent, as well, she felt the first pang of rejection. They entered through the kitchen door. David took a bottle of brandy and two water glasses out of a cupboard. He poured, handed one to A.J., then emptied half the contents of his own glass in one swallow.

  She sipped, then sipped again, and felt a little steadier. “Would you like to take me home now?”

  He picked up the bottle and added a dollop to his glass. “What are you talking about?”

  A.J. wrapped both hands around her glass and made herself speak calmly. “Most people are uncomfortable after—after an episode. They either want to distance themselves from the source or dissect it.” When he said nothing, only stared at her, she set her glass down. “It won’t take me long to pack.”

  “You take another step,” he said in a voice that was deadly calm, “and I don’t know what the hell I’ll do. Sit down, Aurora.”

  “David, I don’t want an interrogation.”

  He hurled his glass into the sink, making her jolt at the sudden violence. “Don’t we know each other any better than that by now?” He was shouting. She couldn’t know it wasn’t at her, but himself. “Can’t we have any sort of discussion, any sort of contact, that isn’t sex or negotiations?”

  “We agreed—”

  He said something so uncharacteristically vulgar about agreements that she stopped dead. “You very possibly saved my life.” He stared down at his hand, well able to imagine what might have happened. “What am I supposed to say to you? Thanks?”

  When she found herself stuttering, A.J. swallowed and pulled herself back. “I’d really rather you didn’t say anything.”

  He walked to her but didn’t touch. “I can’t. Look, I’m a little shaky about this myself. That doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly decided you’re a freak.” He saw the emotion come and go in her eyes before he reached out to touch her face. “I’m grateful. I just don’t quite know how to handle it.”

  “It’s all right.” She was losing ground. She could feel it. “I don’t expect—”

  “Do.” He brought his other hand to her face. “Do expect. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need right now.”

  She tried not to. She’d lose one more foothold if she did. But his hands were gentle, when they never were, and his eyes offered. “Hold me.” She closed her eyes as she said it. “Just hold me a minute.”

  He put his arms around her, drew her against him. There was no passion, no fire, just comfort. He felt her hands knead at his back until both of them relaxed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It was just a flash. I was sitting there, thinking about how nice it had been to do nothing. I was thinking about the flowers. I had a picture of them in the
window. All at once they were black and ugly and the petals were like razors. I saw you bending over that clump of bluebells, and it all went gray.”