Soul to Soul (RUSH, Inc. Book 2)

by Carol Caiton

  He frowned at the ceiling. "I don't dig in my heels."

  "Of course you do. You're as stubborn as she is easygoing."

  Easygoing? Was that the word for it now? "Look, I'll be over to pick it up later this morning."

  She laughed again. "Okay."

  "Make sure Jill doesn't take my keys with her if she goes out, will you? She may have tossed them in her purse."

  "If you two were out that late, she'll probably sleep in today."

  Not this time, he thought. She'd taken off without waiting for him to wake up. Instinct told him she'd be long gone before he showed up for his truck. In fact, it would probably be a while before he saw her again. She was going to want some time to come to terms with what had happened. And he could live with that. For a while.

  CHAPTER 19

  It surprised Rachel when the wrought-iron gate glided open as she slowed to approach Checkpoint 2. She'd expected to find her implant deactivated, that she'd have to sign in with the gate guard and go through the entire visitor process. But that wasn't the case. Had they expected her to come back?

  Pulling into the parking garage, she slid her sunglasses off and dropped them onto the passenger seat. She'd put off coming here for as long as she could. More than a month had passed since Luke had died . . . more than a month since Michael had taken her to the stars.

  School had resumed and she was looking forward to graduation. Studying kept her busy, research kept her busy, and thinking about the baby she carried kept her occupied the rest of the time.

  But coming here hurt. She'd known it would and had expected it. Knowing that Michael was somewhere nearby, hoping she might chance to see him, she yearned for things she couldn't have. Later on, when she met with Mason, she'd ask about having her implant deactivated and removed. After today there wouldn't be any reason to come back. She wasn't going to catch Michael's eye again. He wasn't going to fall in love with her. Michael Vassek had long since moved on and it was time she looked to the future, not the past.

  Parking her car in one of the guest slots, she turned off the engine and got out. She said a polite hello to the guard behind the front desk and passed through the security corridor. Besides returning Luke's house key to Mason, there were people here she needed to see, people who had given of themselves and they deserved a few minutes of her time and an expression of appreciation.

  Stepping out into the fragrant air that was always so much a part of RUSH, she breathed deeply and decided to take this last opportunity to wander around and explore. The grounds were so beautiful. It didn't seem to matter that it wasn't yet spring or that winter was Florida's dry season. The grass, the plants—the entire jungle—was always lush and green and fragrant.

  Edging to the side of the path, she made room for a couple, arm in arm, to pass. She wondered where they were going. She wondered what took place in the turrets where thick black chains and manacles were standard fixtures. And Dalton, being an instructor, probably instructed . . . well, something in those medieval chambers.

  Dalton was one of the people she planned to see. But facing him after that last session was going to be awkward. He'd had his hands on her breasts, had been about to glide his adoring fingers over her backside . . . and what about the blood all over her chin? And then there was Michael, releasing her from that horrible chain and literally carrying her out.

  But Dalton had agreed to work with her when no one else would. True, he'd been well paid for his time so she didn't actually owe him anything. But she'd abruptly cancelled their sessions without the courtesy of an explanation. When Michael told her father he didn't want her to come back to RUSH, she'd made two phone calls—one to the training center to cancel any further scheduled sessions with Dalton, and the other to Dr. Zeman's office requesting the same of his receptionist.

  Facing Dr. Zeman was going to be uncomfortable as well. But he, too, could have refused to work with her and he deserved closure on a case that had interested him. He would appreciate it when she told him she'd been wrong and he'd been right. Systematic desensitization hadn't been the answer. He had, after all, been in the observation room to see Michael carry her out of the turret and probably had questions of his own. But maybe he could offer a reason that would explain why she was able to curl into the touch of a man she didn't know very well, why that man could hold her and kiss her under a dark, star-filled sky and make love to her until she wanted to drown herself in his arms.

  The only meeting she did look forward to with any real pleasure was her appointment later on with Mason. Practically speaking, there was no longer a reason for him to stay in contact with her or her family and she hadn't seen him since Luke's funeral. But Mason had done a great deal for her. He was another caring, giving individual and he'd come close to being an extended family member. She may have coerced him into helping with her problems, which probably hadn't endeared her to him, but she cared about him.

  Unfortunately, the passionate kiss he'd shared with Ali had aired on television several times. He'd given two interviews, steering both so that his personal life and Ali's privacy were protected and focusing instead on his role as corporate attorney for RUSH.

  Regrettably, Ali hadn't fared as well. Her face had been recognized by co-workers, the administration under which she worked, and by several parents of her students, both past and present. People had jumped to conclusions, regardless of Mason's carefully worded statement. And as a result, Ali's intimate association with the owner of a sex club incited angry letters and phone calls to the school board.

  Without warning she'd been subjected to unscheduled, in-class observations by the administration. A week later, her principle placed her on an improvement plan and Ali knew it was just a matter of time before a reason would be found to fire her.

  Rachel didn't know how things would turn out for Ali and Mason. She didn't think they could find a solution that would make everyone happy and allow them to explore what was growing between them and she hurt for both of them.

  Lost in thought, it came as a surprise when she rounded a bend in the jungle, and spotted the koi pond where she'd met Michael. She looked over at the group of palm trees where she'd ducked out of sight and nearly started to cry with the wonderful, painful memory of his humor.

  He hadn't so much as acknowledged her at Luke's funeral. Not even a nod. He'd wanted nothing to do with her since the day he'd carried her out of RUSH and had taken her home. To his bed. Where he'd taught her how to be a woman and had given her a baby.

  Closing her eyes, she told herself to stop thinking about him. Wandering around the grounds had been a mistake. She realized that now and turned away, taking an alternate route to the medical center.

  Michael played no part in her future, but she did have a future to look forward to. She might never again know a man's intimate touch, but she knew now that she could be a woman—with one man at least. That alone was reason enough to celebrate.

  * * *

  Michael shoved away from his desk, stood up, and stretched. Oh, yeah, baby. It was five o'clock and he was primed. His amber link—Chrissy—would be knocking on his door any minute now. Or rather, she'd knock on the doorjamb since his door was already open.

  He'd had two encounters with her already and was looking forward to a satisfying third. She was as tall as he was with tits as big and full as an R-link. Very doable. He might even do her right here in his office.

  He only had a couple of minutes to clean up. Hell, maybe they should just go shower together over at the training center. In fact, that wasn't a bad idea since—

  She knocked on his doorjamb.

  Grinning, he looked up. A suggestive smile curved her lips and his grin widened. Yes, indeed. The outline of her nipples was visible under the tight leopard-print top she wore and invitation glittered in her brown eyes.

  When she held up one hand and crooked her index finger in a come-hither gesture, yeah, honey, he went. She was a good kisser. Experienced. He slid his hand up under her top and wen
t right for a nipple at the same time she pushed her hand down inside the waistband of his jeans. Her warm palm wrapped around him and gently squeezed. Maybe the shower could wait.

  He didn't even have to lower his head. Sliding his tongue into her mouth, he backed her out the doorway and into the corridor. But they both stumbled and fell against the far wall when she lost her footing.

  Chuckling, he pulled his mouth away, turned his head . . . and stared straight in Rachel Oslund's stricken eyes.

  Frozen in place, he watched the color drained out of her face. Her gaze dropped to Chrissy's hand inside his pants, then swept up to his hand beneath the leopard top. And when they lifted to his again, the pain he saw there ripped the breath right out of his lungs.

  It registered somewhere in the back of his mind that Mason stood beside her, saying something. But he couldn't hear past the roaring in his ears. Then before he could move, before he could get his brain to work, goddamn it, Mason put a hand on the small of her back and steered her around the corner and away.

  * * *

  "Mason, I don't think I could eat anything after all.

  It had taken until they left the administrative building before she could get her voice to work. "Would it be all right if I take a rain check on your invitation?"

  "Rachel, let me drive you home."

  She didn't want to look at him. If she did, the sympathy she knew she'd see in his eyes would break through her self-control.

  "I'll pull over somewhere," she told him. "I promise." But chances were good she wouldn't even make it out of the parking garage. The strain of holding back a flood of tears made her temples throb. The ache that lodged in her throat was expanding to her chest.

  "Besides, it's better if I take my own car," she said.

  "I'll walk you to the garage."

  She made the mistake of looking up. The tears began to well up. It didn't matter how many times she tried to blink them back. "No, Mason. Go eat. In fact, I think I'll just find a ladies' room somewhere."

  "There's one inside the checkpoint and on every level of the parking garage."

  "Yes, I remember." She stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I hope you'll stay in touch. I mean that."

  She made it through the checkpoint and into the garage before the tears streamed down her cheeks. Pretending to search through her purse for her keys, she kept her head down, merging with a crowd of employees leaving for the day. Thankfully, she was the only one heading toward the elevator. Her hand brushed over a tissue and she took it out, wiping her tears as she rode up to the second level.

  Just a few feet from the restroom, the door opened from the other side and another young woman, wiping her own tears with a paper towel, stepped out. Several bangle bracelets jingled at her wrist as she lowered her hand then brought it back to her face as a fresh flow of tears escaped. She looked up as Rachel approached and, taken aback by the presence of one another, both of them crying, the other girl offered a nod and a watery smile before continuing into the garage.

  Rachel pushed the door open, found an attendant's chair just inside, and sank down, finally able to give in to the pain that scorched her soul.

  * * *

  "Case here."

  "You still on property?" Michael asked.

  "Just getting ready to leave."

  "Well hold that thought and locate someone for me."

  He'd spotted her car on the second level in the parking garage so he hadn't missed her, but he didn't know where she was.

  "Ready. Go ahead."

  "Oslund. First name Rachel."

  A pause over the airwaves told him Jeremiah remembered him asking for that same search once before but he didn't comment on it. He came back instead with the answer Michael wanted.

  "She's in the restroom. Checkpoint 2 parking garage."

  "Which level?"

  "Two."

  Michael raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks."

  "Anything else?"

  "No. Enjoy your evening."

  "I will."

  Ten minutes later he was still pacing beside her car. Starting to worry, he turned and headed for the restrooms. He'd bang on the door a couple of times and open it just enough to call inside.

  He was just about there, maybe fifteen feet away, when the door opened and she came out. He'd forgotten how damn beautiful she was, how small and delicate. Clean. Pure. And way too good for him.

  She wore a gray sweater and jeans, all that gorgeous hair floating down around her arms and waist. And watching her now, knowing what she'd seen when he'd stumbled into the hall with his amber link . . . . It made him feel dirty. Like the lowlife he'd once been. Hell, maybe he still was. The filth from his past would always walk with him. It wasn't something he could wash away with a job and some money in the bank. He'd fucking tried and it was still there, always beneath the surface.

  She looked up, saw him approaching, and stopped. He stopped too. And suddenly he felt like he was back at square one with her, like he had to be extra careful not to crowd her personal space, let alone touch her.

  "Rachel?"

  She looked away, over toward her car. Was she measuring the distance? She'd been crying. That's what had taken her so long in the restroom. Her eyes were watery and her nose was pink. Shit, could he feel any lower?

  "Rachel," he said again. But she tried to cut around him.

  "Please go away, Michael."

  He gave her the space he figured she wanted, keeping about five or six feet between them, but he wasn't gonna go away.

  "Rachel, let's talk," he said, falling into step with her. "Can you stop for a minute and talk to me?"

  "I'm sorry," she said like some prissy little princess. "I'm in a hurry."

  She wouldn't even look at him. She just kept right on walking. Well, fuck that.

  "What the hell do you want from me?" he shouted.

  She flinched and stopped walking, but at least he had her attention. When she looked at him though, there was no emotion in her eyes. Her nose might be pink from ten minutes of crying, but she was perfectly composed.

  "Nothing, Michael," she said. "Absolutely nothing."

  "Wrong answer," he barked. Three long strides brought him right up next to her and he reached for her arm.

  She stiffened right away at the contact. He felt her muscles tighten up under his fingers. Then her pupils dilated and her expression grew stony and alert—like she was bracing herself against his touch. His touch.

  For a few seconds he could only stare at her. Then he forced himself to let go.

  She backed away a couple of steps and took two deep breaths. "Maybe I should be the one asking you that question. What is it you want from me, Michael?"

  He clenched his jaw and stared at her. Hadn't he gotten what he wanted? Distance. Freedom. None of these weird-shit emotions she always stirred up in him. No risk.

  "That's what I thought," she said, just as though she'd read his mind.

  Then she turned away and left him standing in the middle of a grease-stained parking slot, and fuck if he knew what to do about it. He'd thrown away the most beautiful thing that ever walked into his sorry, shitty life.

  CHAPTER 20

  It took a week before Rachel could stop her thoughts from drifting to Michael every chance they got. School helped. Classes gave her something to occupy her mind, something else to focus on. She had a better understanding now of Jill's need for constant activity. Staying busy kept her centered so that when her thoughts did drift, she had something to pull them back to.

  Pregnancy, however, dictated which activities she was willing to take on. Chances were, this was the only child she'd ever have and she wasn't going to indulge in anything that might jeopardize him or her. She'd spent a lot of time thinking about the future. Graduation wasn't far off. She'd just be starting out, but her education would secure a job that could comfortably support her and her child. It was time to study and get through these final weeks. And it was time to tell her family about
the baby.

  She told herself she was a stronger person than she'd been a couple of months ago. True, she was still working on it. She'd always be working on it. But several life-altering experiences had forced her to grow, to accept and adapt. She'd gone from the inability to tolerate being touched to experiencing intimacy for the first time in her life. From losing a wonderful brother-in-law-to-be, to finding out she was pregnant. From accepting that Michael didn't want her, to fighting through the anguish of watching him stumble into the hallway wrapped around another woman. He'd been grinning, very happy to have that girl's hand inside his pants, and obviously not mourning the loss of Rachel in his life.

  Backpack hooked over one shoulder, she moved with the flow of foot traffic, climbing the stairs toward her next class along with a hundred other students. She followed the throng down the wide corridor, filed into the third classroom, and took a seat in the middle of the room. It was easier this week to immerse herself in the lecture and this particular professor made a dry subject interesting.

  Laptop open, fingers on the keyboard, she took notes, participated in the discussion, and was surprised when time sped by and class came to an end. She thanked the girl in the next row when the other girl admired her leather handbag, packed up her laptop, and felt her self-confidence ratchet up a couple of notches. —Until she stepped out into the corridor, turned, and spotted Michael standing about twenty feet away on the opposite side, his blue eyes locked directly on hers.

  Shocked, she stumbled to a halt. The person behind bumped into her, then distracted her with an apology.

  Mumbling an apology in return, she tore her eyes from Michael, stared straight ahead, and fell in with the others heading toward the stairwell. What was he doing here?

  He didn't approach. Her peripheral vision saw him standing off to the side, nearly a head taller than everyone else, his sun-streaked hair, jeans, and T-shirt fitting right in so that no one paid him any attention. What did he want?