touch my heart

by jordan, wayne

She started to run, taking her time along the rocky area. By the time she reached the house, her clothes clung to her.

  She stood on the verandah, wondering what to do.

  A throat clearing startled her and she turned in the direction of the sound.

  The man sat on a chair. Next to him, the dog sat, its tail thumping on the floor.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. For some strange reason, her heart pounded against her chest, almost in harmony with the rain.

  “Seeking shelter from the rain. I decided it would be smarter to get back before the rain came.”

  His sarcasm stung, but he was right. She’d known that the rain would come. She’d allowed herself to be controlled by her desire to see him again.

  Who on earth was he? And then it dawned on her. The man sitting down was her boss, her patient. If she’d been observant, she would have noticed the cane lying on the floor.

  “You’re my patient?” she exclaimed.

  He paused, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “I confess. I am your...boss.”

  A word she didn’t often use sprung to her head, but she prided herself with self-control and the word remained a thought.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever appear,” she said. Her disapproval was subtle, but her message was clear.

  “Oh, I planned on appearing eventually. Now is a bit premature, but what’s done is done.” He shrugged in mock resignation. “I wanted you to give you a few days to enjoy the island before you started work. And of course, I needed to adjust to a new intrusion in my life. Charles just doesn’t seem to realize I’m fine.”

  “It would have been polite to meet me the day I arrived and explain that,” she said.

  “Didn’t Mrs. Clarke pass on the information?” he asked.

  She almost screamed in exasperation. He was such a pain in the ass already. But he was her boss. Respect was important.

  “Yes, I did get the message.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I’m here to work, so I expect to do exactly that.”

  She moved closer to him, feeling that moment of familiarity again. His face was so familiar.

  And then it came.

  He was Dominic Wolfe! People magazine had named him one of the sexiest men alive.

  “I can see you recognize me now.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. Dr. Graham didn’t tell me.”

  “Does it make a difference?” he challenged.

  She hesitated briefly. “No, it doesn’t. I’m just here to do a job that you don’t seem to want me to do. But you could have told me yesterday that you were my boss.”

  “Oh, I was just having some fun with you. You would have found out in time.”

  Again she paused then said, “I don’t want to be rude, boss,” she said sarcastically, “but I really want to find out when I start your therapy.”

  He smiled widely, and then stood. He reached for the cane on the floor.

  “I’ll get back to you on that.” He then turned and trudged away, the dog following behind him.

  He was in pain. She could tell, but she suspected it was pure pride.

  She shivered, glancing down and realizing that she was still wearing the wet clothing, which emphasized her firm breasts and the nipples straining against the fabric.

  She walked in the direction he’d disappeared to, glancing toward the pathway. He and the dog were walking away from the house.

  The rain had abated, and she watched as he walked away. She’d noticed that despite his smile and teasing, his eyes were dull and lifeless, almost as if he’d given up on ever enjoying life again.

  She knew she had her work cut out for her, but the healer inside was already reaching out to him.

  * * *

  His legs hurt. His legs always hurt, but walking along the cliff’s face for a short period allowed him to be free from his troubled thoughts.

  He was angry. Still angry about what had happened to him. He’d tried to forget, but the memories came while he lay in bed at night, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

  He didn’t regret how the accident had come about. He’d saved the little girl’s life, but the pain in his side and his limp were a constant reminder of the changes he’d had to endure when it came to the life he used to have. A life he wanted back.

  When he reached the cliff’s edge, he hobbled to the large rock where he usually sat. The walk from the house was good exercise for his leg and while it worried him, it was his useless hand that worried him more. Externally the hand had healed, though a slight scar served as a reminder of the series of surgeries. He did have some mobility, but he could not lift anything too heavy, nor could he bend his fingers without pain.

  The rain had finally stopped falling. When he’d left the veranda, it had still been drizzling, but from the clouds and wind, he’d known that it would soon stop. Now the ocean breeze and the dampness of his shirt caused him to shiver.

  One of the things he liked about living on the island was what he saw before him. There was nothing more beautiful than looking out to sea. He’d soon have to get back to the house, since darkness approached swiftly. But for a few minutes each day, he looked across the ocean, reminding himself that he’d come a long way from the poor little boy who’d raced along this same cliff as a little child. Ironically, in those days, he’d stared at the big house in the distance he dreamed of owning one day.

  When the owners of the house had put it up for sale a few years ago, he’d heard about it and immediately sent his lawyer to buy it.

  Though he’d owned it for several years, he’d never used it. Instead, he offered it to friends who wanted to come to the island for holiday. The island reminded him too much of the boy he’d been, the boy who’d fallen asleep with the pain in his stomach gnawing at his insides.

  When he’d come out of hospital just over six months ago, Charles had agreed he should come back here. Reluctantly, he had.

  Now he couldn’t think of being anywhere else. The island he’d known had in a short space of time worked its magic. As a child he’d seen the island through the eyes of a young, troubled boy.

  When his mother had passed away and he’d moved to the United States, things had changed.

  Going to the Armani section of Macy’s had been the proverbial being in the right place at the right time. He’d taken to going into stores where designer clothes were sold. One day, he’d taken the money he’d saved all summer to buy a few outfits.

  His well-toned body had attracted the attention of a woman in the store. She’d given him a business card and invited him to a meeting in her office. The next day, he’d arrived at The Crane Agency, wearing one of the new outfits he’d purchased the previous day.

  That day, Chandra Crane, owner of one of the largest, most influential modeling agencies in New York, had signed him to an exclusive contract. The rest was history.

  At his feet, Nugget barked. He reached down to trace his right hand through Nugget’s silky coat. The dog’s eyes were on him, his tongue hanging out.

  When he straightened up, he grasped his cane, heading back to the house. He wanted to go to his workshop. He needed to create. Nugget followed.

  When he stepped inside the room, a familiar feeling of dread and anxiety slammed him in the stomach, but as he always did, he fought the swelling, stifling emotion. He walked over to the workbench and settled himself on the stool. A lump of clay sat on the sculpturing stand, as it had for the past two weeks. He reached out, placing his right hand on the clay, feeling its warmth.

  He longed to work the clay. Already he could see the image in his head transforming under his hand. He reached out his other hand, watching as it moved slowly toward the clay, collapsing onto the misshaped lump. He willed his fingers to move, but nothing happened, only the excruciating pain racing along his arms and then to the tips of his fingers. Tears of frustration formed in his eyes as he closed and opened them again.

  His good hand swiped a
cross the table. Clay and tools flew across the room.

  A word his mom would have washed his mouth with soap for slipped from his lips. He hated cursing. Had never done it. His mother’s teachings had stuck with him until recently.

  A wave of shame washed over him, but he forced it away. This is different. He was different. Fate had taken hold of his life. He felt battered and helpless.

  Slowly his thoughts drifted to his therapist. Already she frustrated him with her prim and proper demeanor. She was pretty, in a conventional kind of way, if you were willing to look beyond the cool exterior.

  She was definitely not his type. In his celebrity days, he’d been seen with some of the most beautiful starlets. He counted in his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made love. For a while after his accident, a few of his “friends” had visited him in the hospital, but when the days had stretched into weeks and then months, the visits had trickled to a complete stop. The only person who’d continued his visits had been Dr. Graham, his doctor and friend.

  He’d met Charles Graham in high school. Ironically, in class they had battled constantly for academic superiority, and while he’d often won, his career choice had taken him in a totally different direction. Despite that, they’d become friends. When he’d arrived at the hospital after the accident, he’d been surprised to see Charles there. Charles had immediately taken over his case and over the past year they had become much closer friends. Charles had been the one to give him his first glimmer of hope. In the hands of a lesser surgeon, the hope of walking and using his hand again might have been just that: a hope.

  There was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, he responded.

  He rose slowly, not wanting the individual to see the mess he’d made. He’d clean it up later.

  He moved laboriously to the door, stopping to breathe in deeply.

  He pushed the door open. It was Mrs. Clarke.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, observing the concerned look on her face.

  “It’s after dinnertime and you haven’t come down.”

  “Sorry, I’ll eat in my room tonight.”

  “You plan on ignoring the young lady for the rest of the week? Didn’t you tell me last night you were going to meet with her today?”

  “I don’t particularly want her here,” he snapped. “It’s only because Dr. Graham insisted.”

  “But don’t you want to be better?”

  “I tried,” he stated firmly.

  “No, you’ve given up,” she replied. “You have given up.”

  “Can we not talk about this anymore?” He set his chin in a stubborn line.

  “Promise me you will at least give her a chance. Maybe her touch is what you need,” she said, a broad smile on her face.

  He did not smile in return.

  She sighed in frustration.

  “You do realize she’s pretty. Maybe having a beautiful woman around will have a positive effect on you.”

  “Beautiful?” He laughed. “Have you seen the women I’ve dated?”

  “I know the women you kept company with. Tell me, where are they now? Beauty is more than external.”

  “Please,” he pleaded, “I’m really not up to this. Can you just send my dinner up?”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.” Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Don’t want to put you under any more pressure. But I worry about you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, you go ahead and do what you’re doing. I’ll send your dinner up. Where are you going to be?”

  “In my room.”

  “Okay, but if you don’t come down tomorrow morning to meet with that nice young lady, I’m coming for you myself.”

  “I promise,” he said reluctantly.

  “Good,” she responded. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

  With that, she turned and walked away.

  He watched her leave. He was glad she chose to remain on staff. She was like a mother hen, hovering around him, but he knew that she cared. Not many people in his life truly cared about him.

  At least he knew one little girl out there who cared for him. And if he had to do it over, he’d save her again, without hesitation.

  But he did not fail, in the middle of the night, to question the irony of his situation. It had been only a few months after People had named him the sexiest man alive that he’d lost it all. He wasn’t sexy anymore... That was for sure.

  One of the things he’d discovered about himself was the fact that he’d become vain and arrogant. He thought about his first few weeks in hospital and the way he’d treated the staff. In time he’d become just any other patient. His “friends” had disappeared; the reporters and the fans had all vanished, leaving him totally alone.

  He shook his head, trying to purge the memories. He was doing what he could, living each day as it came. There were no jobs, no special one...just him.

  He glanced down at the lump of clay and saw an image forming in his mind. He wanted to lay his hands on the clay and watch it come alive.

  But he knew, even without much thought, that his dream was impossible.

  Maybe he should start therapy tomorrow morning.

  He sighed. He didn’t want to go. He was sure that this therapist would only tell him what he didn’t want to hear: that the life he’d known was no longer.

  He reached down, gripped the cane and breathed in deeply, waiting for the familiar surge of pain as he started to walk.

  Inside he screamed his hurt. At least the fact that there was pain meant that he was still alive.

  Chapter 5

  Aaliyah stood on the balcony. In the distance she could see the white-and-red stripes of a lighthouse peeping through the single mahogany tree just beyond her bedroom. She was surprised things were so peaceful here on the island, but Mrs. Clarke had informed her that the house was on the eastern part of the island. To the west lay the city of Bridgetown, the capital and center of commerce.

  She hoped to visit the city sometime, but for now she was content with the tranquility of the more rural part of the island.

  Below her, a dog barked. She glanced down. She was glad to know she was not the only one awake. Nugget began to bark loudly and then reappeared...with him.

  Her heart stopped.

  Even from where she stood, there was no denying that he was handsome. Gone was his unkempt beard. He looked raw, sexy and all male.

  She gasped.

  His head slowly tilted upward.

  Their eyes locked. Unexpected heat coursed through her, leaving her hot and flustered. He nodded, and then placed his focus on the lively puppy racing between his legs. His deep laughter floated up to her.

  She stepped back, uncomfortable with the feelings assaulting her. She’d only met the man a few days ago and already she was having naughty, erotic thoughts about him. She hadn’t made love since her husband had passed away, and that was one of the things she’d missed most. Lovemaking between her and her husband had been perfect. They’d become lovers in their late teens when they’d left the foster home and decided to move in together.

  They’d both been smart, and had obtained scholarships and decided to go to Columbia. She thought back to the night they’d made love for the first time. Andrew had been wild, bold and daring, but he’d also been warm and sensitive. She’d entered the apartment and found the lights all off, the only light coming from candles on the floor. She’d followed the flickering lights into the bedroom and found him on the bed, butt naked and fast asleep, a single rose clutched in his grasp.

  She’d not had a hint of what he had been planning when she’d called him half an hour before to let him know she was on her way home. She’d gone in, taken a shower, and when she was done, shook him awake. They’d spent the rest of the night making love. In the early hours of the morning, he’d proposed and she’d happily accepted.

  She walked over to the bed and sat as tears formed in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She missed him so much. At times the pain of m
issing him was so intense she couldn’t sleep. The memory of his scent would be so strong that she wondered if he was nearby.

  But that was starting to change; his scent was beginning to fade into a distant memory.

  She stood and glanced at the clock and realized that it was already seven. She wanted to eat breakfast before she headed to the gym for her first session with Dominic.

  She slipped off the robe she was wearing and changed into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

  When she reached the dining room several minutes later, she found herself alone, as usual.

  Mrs. Clarke entered the room shortly after.

  “Mr. Wolfe has already eaten. He’s gone upstairs to dress for the session.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. I’m looking forward to working with him.”

  “I’m hoping it works out this time. He’s had a bad time with the others. None of them seemed to be able to reach him. But I have my bets on you.”

  “I’m glad you have confidence in me. I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

  “Honey, I am sure you are going to. Well, you sit and have some breakfast. You have a hard session in front of you.” With that, she giggled sweetly and left the room.

  Aaliyah grimaced. She had no doubt that Mrs. Clarke’s prediction would come true. In fact, since her career change, none of her patients had been receptive to the schedule she’d imposed on them. In fact, most of them were still upset with the world and what it had done to them. But eventually she would break through their barriers and they would work hard at healing and look forward to their long journey.

  She walked over to the buffet table, picked up a plate and filled it with scrambled eggs and bacon, and placed two slices of bread in the toaster. She added sliced mango, apples and pineapple to a smaller plate and sat to nibble on the fruit while waiting for the toast to be done. She ate slowly, especially savoring the mangoes, a favorite fruit of hers.

  When she was done with the meal, she raced upstairs to brush her teeth and then headed in the direction of the gym that Mrs. Clarke had pointed out earlier.

  When she reached the room, she knocked.

  He was already there.