No doubt about it. She’d failed miserably at hanging on to the euphoria that had been so strong just a few minutes earlier.
Putting her key in the ignition, she started the car and immediately backed out of Simon’s driveway. Flooring the accelerator, she drove away quickly before she could change her mind and go back.
As the rain beat down on her windshield, Kennon gave up trying not to cry.
The shifting bed had roused him from what had been a light sleep at best. Before he could open his eyes, Kennon had slipped out of his bed. Simon assumed that she was just visiting the bathroom.
He pretended to still be asleep. The ruse bought him a little time. His mind raced about, searching for something to say to her in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
Something that didn’t express regret, or hint at the fact that he was silently battling a surge of guilt. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t as big a surge as he’d anticipated.
He’d honestly expected to drown in the emotion. Since his wife had been killed, he hadn’t so much as taken a woman out to dinner, much less completely lost himself in her to the point of making love with sheer abandonment.
But that was what had happened tonight. He’d completely lost himself in Kennon, not just in the act of lovemaking, but in the act of making love with her and to her. What had happened here wasn’t just about a body, or a face, or about an unaddressed urge that had demanded attention.
This involved a great deal more.
Kennon actually mattered to him.
The fact that she did surprised him, as well. He hadn’t thought himself capable of having feelings, much less feelings so strong that they delved down to his bones. Feelings that demanded he act on them or wind up disintegrating right where he stood.
Simon didn’t know how to handle that. He didn’t know what Kennon would expect him to say once they were facing each other and the passion had cooled down enough to be manageable.
So he lay there in the dark, listening to the rain and straining to hear the sound of her returning to his bed. And trying to think of something to say that would entangle neither one of them until he could decide what this actually meant to him.
When the bathroom door had opened and he’d narrowed his eyes to tiny slits, still pretending to be asleep, Simon had been surprised to realize that she was intent on slipping out of the room without waking him.
She wasn’t just stepping into the bathroom to respond to a call of nature, she’d gone in to put her clothes back on.
She was leaving, otherwise she would have put the sweat suit back on.
That bought him more time to sort things out. What it didn’t bring him was a sense of peace.
Even though he was somewhat relieved, he couldn’t help wondering why she was leaving. Why, after the time they’d spent together, after the way their souls had all but touched, did she suddenly feel so compelled to leave his bed and his house without a word?
It didn’t make sense to him.
Neither did his quick surrender to the demands that his attraction to her had evoked. But there was no denying that both had happened.
Simon sat up. For a split second, he thought of going after her, of bringing Kennon back before she could walk out the door. But if he did that, then he’d have to say something to her and he had absolutely no idea what that would be.
His brain was numb.
“I had a great time, thanks” was inane and didn’t even begin to cover it. But any sentiment beyond that might make Kennon think that they were on the road to “something” and he honestly didn’t know if they were. He might not be able to deal with the guilt—and the dire, underlying fear of possible loss. He had no idea if he was strong enough for that.
Simon scrubbed his hand over his face. He’d never felt so confused before, never felt so many emotions running through him at the same time as he did right at this moment.
With a sigh, he fell back on the bed. Who said that getting through adolescence was the hardest part? Adolescence had been a cakewalk compared to this.
And it felt as if things would only get harder.
So he didn’t get up, he didn’t get dressed and he didn’t go running after her. Instead, he remained where he was, willing himself to fall back asleep and let oblivion take over.
It was a long time before he got his wish.
As he unlocked the front door to the shop, Nathan appeared perplexed not to hear an annoying, high-pitched noise. That was the warning signal that he had forty-five seconds to disarm the security system before it began making more noise than a puppy dashing through a bell factory.
Nathan stopped, listening. Soon he turned around and stifled a cry. He grabbed his chest to keep his heart from leaping out of his shallow rib cage.
A ragged sigh broke free as he struggled to calm down.
“Damn it, Kennon, you scared me half to death,” he declared, not bothering to block out the annoyance from his voice. Taking another deep breath, he dropped his hand to his side and crossed over to Kennon, who was seated at her drawing board. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here, remember?” she said glibly. Although, if she didn’t come up with something soon, she wouldn’t hold on to this place much longer, she thought, frustrated as she stared down at the blank page.
“No, you don’t,” Nathan contradicted, drawing closer. When she looked at him sharply, he said, “The woman who works here hasn’t been around for almost a month, except to pop her head in a couple of times before dashing off again.”
Her eyes narrowed. She wasn’t in the mood for his repartee. “And to give you your paycheck.”
“Well, yes,” Nathan conceded with a quick shrug of one shoulder, “there’s that, too. But then, you had to, didn’t you? I’m carrying the weight here lately and last I’d heard, the slaves had been freed by that nice, tall guy in the beard and stovepipe hat.” Nathan pretended to scrutinize her as he slowly looked her up and down. “I’d like to see some ID, please.”
She let out an annoyed sigh. “You can be replaced, you know.”
He responded by nodding with satisfaction. “Now, that’s the Kennon we all know and love.” He glanced at the empty pad and frowned slightly to himself. Rather than comment on it, he asked, “So what are you doing back—besides slumming?”
As he spoke, Nathan shed his fashionable black trench coat.
“And while we’re at it,” he said, circling her slowly and appraising Kennon from all possible angles, “any particular reason you look like something the cat would be embarrassed dragging in?” In front of her again, he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”
She really didn’t need flippant today. She just wanted to bury herself in her work. There were still things she had to finish up doing at Simon’s house before she could move on.
As no doubt he would, too, she thought.
The sun had been up a full three hours and so, undoubtedly, had he and the girls. The phone hadn’t rung once. Not her landline—she’d put it on call forwarding—or her cell. If he cared, he would have called. But he hadn’t, ergo, he didn’t. She was a big girl, she understood that what had happened last night didn’t immediately lead to “happily-ever-after.”
Or, in her case, ever.
“There is no paradise,” she said shortly.
“That’s a matter of opinion.” Taking off his jacket, Nathan began to carefully roll up his sleeves, folding over the material on first one, then the other. “I’ve seen the way Doctor Hunk looks at you—and the way you look at him. Moreover, when you have been in, I’ve had to suffer through listening to you hum—very badly off-key, I might add. If that doesn’t have paradise written all over it, then I’m a wooden boy with strings whose nose grows.” The moment Nathan made the pronouncement, he looked at her more closely. A touch of sympathy entered his voice. “There is trouble in paradise, isn’t there?”
“Stop calling it that,” Kennon warned him, dangerously close to snapping. “Dr. Simon S
heffield is just another client.”
“Uh-huh, and the Olympics are just another bunch of games.” Nathan perched himself on the edge of her desk, careful not to tilt the board. “Talk to me, Kennon,” he instructed. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” she insisted.
This was a mistake, coming in today, she thought as despair seeped into her. But she hadn’t wanted to stay home, either, alone with her thoughts, examining last night from every angle and regretting it. Work was not just her passion, but her therapy, as well. It defined who and what she was, and there were times, like when Pete had dumped her, that it stitched together her body and soul. But if she was going to be subjected to Nathan’s interrogation, then she just wouldn’t come around. She might as well be home, eating a half gallon of mint-chip ice cream and playing that CD with the collection of songs she’d picked up several years ago, the one that lamented the stupidity of falling in love in the first place.
Kennon abruptly stood up. Nathan followed suit, reading her mind and blocking her escape.
His fingers were long and bony but surprisingly strong as he clamped his hands down on her shoulders to hold her in place.
“Something most definitely did happen and you have to tell me what,” he informed her. When she said nothing, he tried logic. “You know you have to get it out in the open.” When she still said nothing and then shrugged him off, Nathan played his ace. “Don’t make me bring out the big guns,” he warned. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and held it up for her to see. “I have your mother on speed dial and I’m not afraid to press the button.”
Kennon closed her eyes and sighed. Oh, God, not her mother. Not now. She just wasn’t up to having the woman descend on her. She wasn’t up to the questions she knew her mother would fire at her like a discharging AK-47. She wasn’t up to the sympathy, along with pity, her mother would display and she definitely was not up to hearing the barrage of suggestions that would come at her from every direction.
Ruth Cassidy was one of those people who truly believed she could fix anything she set her mind to—no matter how long it took. Kennon did not want to be this month’s project.
Taking a deep breath, Kennon went with the lesser of two evils. She told Nathan what he wanted to hear. “I slept with him.”
Nathan waited for more. It didn’t come and he frowned. “Forgive me, but isn’t that a good thing?”
You’d think that, wouldn’t you? After all, she hadn’t so much as held hands with a man since the Pete fiasco. “Not in this case.”
“Oh. I see.” Each word Nathan uttered had an inordinate amount of time between it and the next one. He nodded to underscore the fact that he understood what the problem was. Disappointment. “He’s lousy in bed. I’m sorry.” Nathan shook his head in sympathy. “And he looked like he had such potential, too.” He sighed, able to relate. “Just goes to show that you really can’t tell a book by its cover.”
Oh, God, he would go on like this all morning if she didn’t set him straight.
“No, he’s not lousy in bed,” she told Nathan. The man looked at her, puzzled. “He’s—” Kennon searched for a word that would cover the situation without being gushy. This was not a topic she wanted up for discussion. Now or ever. Her back to the wall, she went with the all-purpose word good. Then, because Nathan was still watching her expectantly, waiting for more, she added, “Very good.”
“Okay,” he allowed, “The doctor is good in bed. Very good,” he underscored, mimicking her tone. “Then what’s the problem?” She was not getting any work done, was she? “The problem is he’s in love with his wife.”
Nathan’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “He’s married?” her assistant cried, indignant and horrified for her at the same time. “When did this come out?”
She shook her head. “No, he’s not married, he’s a widower.”
Abject confusion replaced angry indignation. Nathan connected his own set of dots. And then he sighed. “Contrary to the philosophy espoused by some of the currently trendy horror movies, the dead don’t come back to haunt the living.”
“He’s not haunted by her,” she told Nathan, really wishing he would drop the subject, knowing at the same time that he wouldn’t until he was satisfied with her explanation. “He just feels guilty having feelings about anyone else.”
Nathan’s frown deepened as he tried to follow the logic. “And Doctor Hunk said this to you after the fact—?”
“No.”
“Before the fact? The man issued a disclaimer before you and he tripped the light fantastic?”
Nathan had the strangest frame of reference she’d ever heard. “No, not in so many words—”
Nathan stopped her. “Did he say it to you in any words?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and sighed. How could she have forgotten that Nathan was relentless? He’d badgered her like this the last time, until she’d told him all about Pete breaking up with her. And then she’d had to restrain him from making good on his promise of breaking into Pete’s house and putting crushed oleanders into his salad dressing because he’d read that oleanders were an odorless, tasteless way to poison someone.
“No, but I just felt it, that’s all—”
Nathan held up his hand. “So let me get this straight. You’re here, looking like a truck just ran over your favorite puppy, because, after spending a torrid night of wickedly wonderful lovemaking, you’re assuming Prince Charming is going to say something less than princely?” Nathan shook his head. “Do you know how stupid that sounds?”
“Not until you just said it out loud,” Kennon countered.
He inclined his head, satisfied. Now he could get back to work. “Good, then my work here is done.” He gestured her toward the front door. “Go back to the man, tell him you were sleepwalking, but you’re awake now and in full possession of your senses. Or,” he amended glibly, “in as much possession as you can manage.”
Kennon stayed where she was. She frowned. “It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is,” Nathan contradicted. “You’re the one who’s making it hard.” About to get behind Kennon to push her out the door, he stopped when he looked outside the front of the shop. “Speak of the devil.”
“What devil?” Kennon turned around to look. The air completely whooshed out of her lungs as the bell announcing a customer’s entrance went off.
And Simon walked into the shop.
Chapter Fifteen
The silence stretched out as they stared at one another.
Finally, his face an emotionless mask, Simon said quietly, “You left.”
Was he accusing her, or stating a fact with quiet relief? She couldn’t tell. Kennon pressed her lips together. They felt as dry as parchment.
“Pick up on that, did you?” she cracked, trying desperately to lighten the tension all but pressing down on her.
His eyes narrowed as he ignored her attempt at humor. “Why did you leave?”
What did she say to that? That she was afraid he’d see how much she loved him if she stayed? That she was afraid he’d push her away? That her fear of rejection made her flee? Was there any way to word this, to tell him the truth, without seeming needy to him?
Kennon was about to try to frame an answer when she realized that they were not alone in the showroom. Nathan stood to her left as if he had every right to be there listening to their exchange. The man might very well be the best friend she had, but right now, Nathan had no business being part of this very personal scenario—not until she figured out her own role in it and was willing to share it with him.
Turning toward Nathan, she asked, “Don’t you have something to do in the storeroom?”
If he realized what she was trying to do, he gave her no indication. “No.”
It wasn’t that Nathan was dense when it came to hints, Kennon thought. He was being stubborn.
“Sure you do,” she insisted. When he continued looking at her as if she
was wasting her breath, trying to jar his memory or engage his cooperation, she pointedly said, “You have to be in it.”
With a dramatic sigh and what appeared to be the beginning of an even more dramatic rolling of his eyes, Nathan turned on his very expensive heel and headed to the back of the store. Walking particularly slowly, he finally disappeared around the corner.
When Simon took that moment to begin to talk to her, Kennon held her hand up. Without looking back at him, she silently asked Simon to hold his peace a moment longer until she was finished.
“The door, Nathan,” she called out, raising her voice. “Close the door, please.”
A second later, she heard the sound of the storeroom door meeting its frame. The meeting did not occur quietly. Satisfied that Nathan had shut the door behind him as she’d requested, she turned around to face Simon again.
She tried desperately to steel herself, bracing for a verbal mortal blow. “You were saying?”
“No,” he corrected tersely, his eyes on hers, “you were.” When Kennon remained silent, he prompted, “You were going to tell me why you left not just my bed, but my house in the middle of the night.”
Why was he pushing this? They’d made love and, even while they were in the throes of it, they both knew where it was headed. Straight into oblivion. What she’d done was make the awkward small talk unnecessary. And now here he was, digging it up.
“I wanted to make it easy on you,” she told him, struggling to keep any emotion out of her voice.
“And how, exactly, was finding you gone after we’d spent half the night making love together making it ‘easy’ on me?” he asked.
She stared past his head. It was the only way she could keep from letting the tears flow—and from doubling her hands into fists and beating on him.
“I figured I’d spare you having to say something along the lines of, ‘It was great, but it was just one of those things,’ and not to expect a replay. Or worse, you’d give apologizing to me a shot.”
A Match for the Doctor Page 15
