Woman of His Heart

by Donna Fasano

He tucked the phone into his pocket and headed for the door.

  “Hey,” she called out to him. “What’s going on?”

  “Mat’s daughter,” he said, but he’d already disappeared down the hallway.

  “Your niece ate some berries? What kind of berries?” She sat up, pinning the sheet to her tightly. She called out, “Is she okay?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Water ran in the bathroom sink, and she heard the sounds of him scrubbing his teeth.

  “Seems yesterday in school,” he called, “Grace learned how the Kolheeks used to live off the land, foraging for their food. She got up this morning and decided she’d do the same. Mat found her with red berry juice all over her clothes. She was standing in a bunch of poke weed.”

  “That’s poisonous,” she breathed even though she knew he’d never hear her comment. Concern chilled her body and goose bumps erupted on her skin.

  He bustled back into the room, opening the closet and jerked a clean shirt from its hanger. She watched him stuff his arms into the sleeves, straighten the collar, fasten the buttons.

  Still he didn’t look in her direction. Anxiety for the little girl mingled inside her along with a niggling doubt about last night. Why couldn’t he bring himself to look at her?

  Did he regret making love to her?

  Embarrassment flooded her from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. She felt hot, prickly with the sudden outbreak of perspiration.

  “I’ve got to go,” he told her, grabbing up socks and shoes.

  Of course, he was alarmed for his niece. So was Lyssa. But didn’t she deserve one second of his time? After what they had shared last night, wasn’t she worth a quick glance? Just one soft word?

  Sudden angst had her stomach tensing. “D-do you want me to come along with you?”

  “Don’t have time to wait,” he said over his shoulder. “Besides, I need you to take care of things at the office until I can get back. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  Lyssa looked around the room, felt the booming silence almost mocking her. She was very conscious of her nakedness and keenly aware of how unrestrained she’d behaved during those long night hours. She shouldn’t have made love with Dakota. Not after revealing to him how she’d gone out hunting for a rich husband who could keep her in material things.

  A groan rose up in her throat as humiliating tears blurred her vision. Surely he thought she was a tramp who was willing to sleep with any man who came down the pike. Any man who was good enough to provide what she needed.

  Her stomach knotted.

  No matter how hard she tried, it seemed she was destined to end up just like her mother.

  Chapter Seven

  Dakota had never been more disappointed in himself. Last night, he’d lost control. Completely.

  He parked the car, let himself into the house and went directly to the bathroom, stripped and stepped into the shower. The hot needles of water felt good as the spray sluiced over his body. And as he lathered himself with soap, memories of making love to Lyssa bombarded him.

  She was a passionate and giving lover who offered herself with abandon. The soft and uninhibited moans that had issued from deep in her throat… the way she’d arched her back, striving to reach that place where they had both tumbled over from the precipice into the deep and steamy void of desire. She’d stirred his blood in such a primal fashion that it had been hard for him to take his time. To take it slow. To savor every luscious second.

  Even now, his body quickened.

  Could it be, a small voice echoed from the back of his brain, that Lyssa is the woman meant just for you? Could there be something to the legend called Woman of the Heart?

  Swallowing a curse, he shoved the ridiculous notion aside. There was no such thing. The story was just that. A story. And a dangerous one, at that. Hadn’t he learned the hard way that love only ripped the heart to shreds? Love left a man wounded and bleeding. He didn’t need that.

  With a new firmness of thought, he put his mind to getting himself dried, shaved, and dressed. Dwelling on his mistakes would do no good. He’d have to apologize to Lyssa for his lack of control. Try to explain this mess that he’d made of their arrangement. And he’d have to do his damnedest not to let it happen again. But doing so would be difficult. Lyssa was a beautiful woman. A desirable woman who made his soul sing.

  Dakota shook his head with disgust. He’d better get to work before those fanciful thoughts invaded his mind once again.

  He went into the building by the back entrance, not seeing Lyssa, his receptionist, or any patients. He was actually relieved to have a few moments alone to calm his mind before having to focus his attention on illnesses, complaints, symptoms, and prescriptions.

  The sight of Lyssa standing in front of his desk stopped him in his tracks.

  “How’s your niece?” she asked.

  “Grace’s going to be just fine,” he told her. “She pitched a fit over having the contents of her stomach pumped—” Dakota lifted one shoulder slightly “—but the procedure was necessary.”

  Seconds ticked by and the air between them stiffened with acute awkwardness. Something needed to be said. The events of last night needed to be mentioned. But for the life of him, Dakota simply couldn’t find the right words. Regret gathered in his chest like a cement block, and before he could stop himself, his gaze dropped to the tiled floor like a heavy stone.

  It was her sigh that made him look her in the face. The sound of it held such woe. He guessed she was feeling as remorseful about what had happened between them as he. He hated thinking he’d led her to participate in something she now despaired over.

  However, when she spoke she was as professional as ever.

  “We were able to shuffle around some appointments,” she told him briskly. “But Mr. Mason and little Danny Brunner really needed to see you, so I’ve got them waiting. I hope that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine,” he assured her.

  Silence swirled around them, thick as wood smoke and just as choking.

  Her spine straightened. “I want you to know,” she told him, her gaze sliding from his, but only a fraction of a second later her chin tipping up and her golden eyes leveling on him once again, “no matter what it might look like, I do not make a habit of sleeping with every man who comes into my life. I assure you of that.”

  There was so much emotion in her words. Shame mingled with determination. Humiliation merged with an underlying hint of confidence. Her body language told him that although she regretted her behavior last night, she was proud of who she was, of what she believed in.

  I’m moral. I’m honest.

  Those were the unspoken points she seemed set on making.

  “I never—”

  “I was simply responding,” she interrupted boldly, “to the attraction that’s been tugging at us since I first came to work for you. You’ve felt it. I know you have. You can’t deny it.”

  So surprised was he by what she said that the words he’d been about to utter died in his throat.

  “I won’t let you deny it. Because, if you do, that will turn me into something I’m not.”

  Tears glistened in her brown eyes, and Dakota finally realized that she was feeling terribly culpable for what had happened between them. And she was almost frantic for him to accept some of the blame.

  He was happy to do just that. In fact, he’d intended on taking all the blame, but before he could, she smoothed agitated fingers over her hair, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear. She paced two steps away from him, then turned back to face him.

  “I mean,” she continued, “I know we went into this as a purely platonic deal. A business agreement. I’d scratch your back and you’d scratch mine.”

  As soon as the words came out of her mouth, her lips parted. Her milky complexion became inflamed with embarrassment.

  In a rush, she persisted, “This marriage was meant as nothi
ng more than mere convenience for both of us. I’d help you get those women off your back. And you’d help me out with… my problems.”

  She swallowed, and as he watched the hollow of her throat seize and relax, he was reminded of the honeyed taste of her flesh when he’d kissed the length of her neck.

  “I know you said that you were through with relationships.” She moistened her lips, a nervous crease drawing her eyebrows together. “But, Dakota—” her tone lowered, her lovely eyes widened “—I’ve got to tell you, I-I’ve begun to feel… something. Something shadowy. Mysterious. Something meaningful.”

  Again she swallowed, frowning with her inability, or was that reluctance, to express herself.

  Her voice softened as she added, “I think you have, too. Haven’t you?”

  The tone of her tiny question was tinged with beseeching, and Dakota recognized that she was desperate for him not to oppose her. That, for some reason, her dignity hinged on his answer. However, he was too stunned—no, aghast would better describe his reaction to the suggestion she was making.

  Just moments before seeing her, he’d decided that their lovemaking had been a total mistake. A blunder that couldn’t be repeated… no matter how pleasurable the experience had been.

  “No,” he answered firmly, shaking his head. “No, Lyssa. That’s not what’s happening here.”

  He’d intended to continue, but his refusal to agree with her about the mysterious something they were supposed to be feeling for each other sent her fingers flying to cover her mouth. Her eyes grew haunted, her chin trembled, and she fought back tears, all evidence of her mortification. Clearly, she regretted having revealed herself to him. She attempted to dart around him. To escape further embarrassment, he surmised, or to avoid having to look in his face any longer, or disclosing any more of her feelings.

  “Hold on,” he said. The warm, luscious scent of her made his insides tighten, and he silently cursed the magnitude of his physical need of her. But that was all it was. A physical urge. A craving that could be controlled—that would be controlled.

  “We’ve got patients waiting. We can talk about this later.”

  But he secured her forearm in his grasp and spun her around to face him.

  “We’ll talk about this now.” He hoped his calm tone camouflaged the riot of emotion warring in his belly.

  He wanted to pull her to him. Kiss her senseless. Make her moan and writhe in his arms as she had last night. But that was impossible. She thought there was a possibility of a real and lasting relationship between them. Succumbing to his desire for her would only fuel this fairytale she’d conjured.

  He had to nip this in the bud. Right this second.

  “First of all,” he told her, zeroing in on her face to make his point very clear, “I do not hold you responsible for what happened between us last night. You were upset. Distraught.”

  Disgust at his behavior had him combing agitated fingers through his hair. “I was supposed to be helping you. Protecting you. Instead, I… I—” He didn’t want to reveal just how overwhelming his passion for her had been, fearing he’d encourage her notion that there was something between them. “I took advantage of the situation. I took advantage of you. And for that, I’m terribly sorry.”

  He’d expected his explanation to ease her embarrassment. She wasn’t to blame. He was. Totally. However, she only looked more stricken. Sometime during his short monologue, he couldn’t say when exactly, she’d pulled her arm from his grasp.

  Guilt walloped him. “Look, Lyssa,” he continued, “I tried to explain to you how I feel about relationships.”

  Her shoulders squared and her chin tipped up. “Yes. You’re distrustful of women. Because of your ex-wife.”

  She’d summed it up into a nice, neat little package, and the manner in which she spoke told him that she felt his motivation was flimsy.

  “It’s more than just Rose Marie,” he felt compelled to say.

  Lyssa provided, “Your mother.”

  He was taken aback and knew his expression clearly displayed it.

  “You mentioned your mother once,” she added. “Told me she’d betrayed you. Back when you first told me about Rose Marie.”

  “I did?” He hadn’t remembered doing so. But he must have mentioned his mother, otherwise, how would she know? It amazed him Lyssa remembered. “Yes, well… Norma Makwa was a deceitful woman. Not just to me. But also to the man I called father.”

  “I don’t understand. The man you called father…”

  It was obvious that the awkwardness she’d felt just a moment before was replaced now by acute curiosity.

  Dakota sighed. So few people knew his story. He’d discussed his suspicions with his brother, Mat. But he hadn’t gone to his grandfather. He hadn’t wanted Grayson to look down on him. To treat him any differently than anyone else. And pointing out his “disparity” just might make that come to fruition.

  “I’ve always known I was different,” he began slowly. “For as long as I can remember. I was teased about my green eyes. Eyes so different from those of my full-blooded Kolheek relatives.”

  He paused, giving her the chance to take in all the implications of his story. And when she continued to look a bit confused, he decided to delve further into the murkiness of his past.

  “When I was young, I asked my mother how I came to have green eyes. And she waved off my concern. Told me that there must be European genes somewhere in the Makwa family tree and that’s where I’d inherited my eye color from.”

  Anger rolled over him, just as it did every time he thought about his mother’s lies.

  He moistened his lips before going further. “After my parents died, I went to live with Grayson. My grandfather filled my life with the rich tapestry that was our ancestry. A history of brave men and women who fought to survive against all odds.” He felt his jaw tighten. “Nowhere was there any mention of European ancestors.”

  He couldn’t tell what Lyssa was thinking, but he was too wrapped up in his misery to stop now.

  “The fact that I’m different,” he said, “that I never quite looked like everyone else around me continued to niggle at me. I learned all about dominant and recessive genes in med school. There’s no conclusion to come to, Lyssa, other than that my mother was unfaithful to Will Makwa… the man who raised me until he died, the man who allowed me to call him father even though his blood doesn’t run through my veins.”

  His gaze narrowed. “My mother was deceitful. She was a liar. And I live with the proof of her conniving ways each and every time I look in the mirror.”

  Lyssa was silent a moment, evidently taking in all of the awful truth he was disclosing. Finally, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked him directly in the eye.

  “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, Dakota,” she told him. “I’m sorry you’ve been used. And I’m sorry you’ve been lied to. But my name isn’t Rose Marie. And it isn’t Norma, either.” Her honey-brown gaze set and her chin lifted a fraction. “And if you refuse to accept the plain and obvious facts, the truth that’s staring you cold in the face, then I feel sorry for you for that, too.”

  With determined steps, she moved to his office door, opened it, exited the room, and closed the door firmly behind her, leaving him all alone in the sudden and bizarre silence.

  ~oOo~

  Keep busy. Just keep your mind occupied.

  During the past several days, Lyssa had done her best to do just that. If her hands and her thoughts were engaged, then she wouldn’t dwell on the terrible and humiliating facts.

  She paged through the listings on the website without even seeing the big bold advertisements. A groan welled up within her and she did her best to suppress it. She didn’t want anyone, least of all Dakota, to know just how miserable she was feeling.

  Had she really revealed her heart to him so openly? Yes, she had, came the dismal answer, and she’d done so only to have him reject her, point-blank.

  Resting her elbow on the kitchen
table, she sank her forehead onto her fingertips and did what she could to rub away the anxiety and regret. Tension had built up in her to such a degree that her head ached.

  Oh, if only she and Dakota had met earlier in her life. Maybe she could have avoided Rodney and the whole Gaines family altogether. Maybe, just maybe, she could have evaded the mess she’d made of her life if only—

  “What are you doing?”

  Lyssa started, but quickly recovered herself. As Dakota entered the kitchen, a swirl of energy seemed to follow on his heels.

  An unmistakable awkwardness. That ever-present awareness.

  He’d made it plain that he was willing to endure the awkwardness between them. To act as if it didn’t bother him in the least. But the awareness? Sometimes Lyssa felt as if she was being plucked at by physical fingers, physical vibrations that hummed and pulsated. There was no way she or Dakota could keep from noticing it.

  Well, if he was determined to ignore this overwhelming sensitivity, this potent attraction, then she could, too, damn it. She could, too!

  “I’m searching the internet for an obstetrician.” She pressed the page down button on the laptop, realizing that she’d lost focus on her chore long ago. “However, it looks like I’m going to have to drive all the way to—”

  “You don’t have to drive anywhere,” he told her quietly. “I’ll be happy to act as your doctor.”

  Lyssa forced her eyes back to the screen. She didn’t want to feel all soft and mushy inside. She wanted to be irritated with him. With his refusal to see what they might have together if they allowed their relationship to develop, if they gave themselves the chance to explore…

  He has good reason to avoid doing that, a quiet voice in her head silently reminded her.

  Maybe he did. But understanding his motive didn’t make the situation any easier.

  “Do you think that would be wise?” she asked without looking at him.

  “Anything else would be silly.” He sat down at the table, reached over, and covered her forearm with his warm fingers. “Why spend the money? And why go to the trouble of traveling three towns over? I’m perfectly capable of managing your health care while you’re pregnant. And I’ve delivered lots of babies.”