by Francis Ray
The thought barely registered before she knew it didn’t matter. Andrew had killed any love she had for him. Her heart belonged to Dalton, a man who wouldn’t betray her, a man who thought of her first and always. She’d do all she could to help Andrew through this, but then she was leaving.
“He won’t remember? Ever?” Justine asked, not sure how she felt about that.
Dr. Lane turned from studying Andrew. “Some never do.”
“What difference does it make now?” Beverly took up a position on the other side of the bed. “Andrew is coming back to us, and he’ll be as good as new.”
Dr. Lane frowned. “I’d like a laryngologist to check him out. I expect the hoarseness, but not the stuttering.”
“Do you think it’s because of the cardiac arrests?” Justine asked.
The doctor shrugged his slim shoulders. “We might never know the cause. Depending on what the laryngologist finds, we can add a speech therapist to the physical therapist’s schedule.”
“I want the laryngologist here today,” Beverly demanded. “Andrew’s voice is as much a part of him as his smile. He can’t lose that after what he’s been through. He can’t. I won’t let it happen.”
Justine didn’t say anything. Beverly had pulled Andrew through so much, perhaps she could this time as well. However, one look at Dr. Lane’s troubled expression, and Justine felt that just maybe Beverly might have run out of miracles.
A foot massage shouldn’t make a woman moan and get hot in all the wrong places. But perhaps that depended on the person giving the massage.
“I’ll have to tell Brooke that this new product Claire developed is another winner.”
Brianna’s eyelids lifted just enough for her to see Patrick, sitting on the ottoman in front of her in her condo. She stared at him from her position in her leather library chair, her hands draped casually over the curved leather arms. Her foot was inches away from that part of him that her body hungered for. One little flex of her foot and—
Patrick put her left foot on the other side of his muscled thigh and picked up the right one. “Your parents enjoyed going out on the boat this morning.”
Brianna’s eyes closed. You knew you were in bad shape when even the mention of your parents didn’t dampen your desire. “They had a wonderful time.”
“We’re going out again this weekend. Care to go with us?” Patrick asked, the ball of his thumb running down her foot, making her want to melt, preferably over him.
Her eyes opened again. She tried to determine if he was purposefully turning her on or was it just her body’s intense reaction to him.
“Afterward we’re going back to their place and cook what we catch.” His sexy fingers slid up her ankle to her lower leg. He grinned when she cocked a brow. “Helps circulation.”
Her blood was already hot and pulsing, thank you. Time to try and get her mind on something else. “What if you don’t catch anything?”
He laughed, and the sound soothed and excited her. She recalled so easily his playfulness in bed. “I made reservations at the Boathouse for four. Should I make it five?”
“Four?” The popular seafood and raw bar restaurant on East Bay near her parents’ house was one of their favorites. She had little doubt that Patrick already knew this.
The smile slid from his face. “Dalton.”
Brianna rose up. She’d kept Dalton up on Andrew’s progress. When she told him Andrew was talking and had started speech therapy, there had been a long silence, then a “thank you” and he’d hung up. “He’s having a rough time.”
“Tougher because he can’t be there for her.” Patrick’s fingers slid back down, his gaze still on her. “Nothing makes a man feel more helpless than not being able to take care of a woman he cares about.”
All it would take for her to assuage the ache in her body and her heart was to lean closer and press her lips against Patrick’s. A measly foot and he’d do the rest. She wanted to. She even inched forward, watched his nostrils flair, and felt his hand tighten on her foot.
Then what? Making love might satisfy the needs of their bodies. It wouldn’t get her any closer to deciding if she was brave enough to risk Patrick walking away one day. She pulled first one, then the other foot from the ottoman and stood, immediately stepping away.
“Thanks for the foot massage. I’ll let you know later about the boat trip and dinner.” She went to the front door and opened it. “Good night, Patrick.”
He swiveled around on the seat and looked at her for so long that she started to squirm. He must have been a tough police interrogator. He was one witness that no one could have intimidated or flustered. Slowly, he came to his feet and stopped inches from her. “I’ll be busy for the next few days. If you can make it, just leave a message on my machine.”
There was no way she could keep the surprise and regret from her face. “All right.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.” Brianna closed the door. She’d gotten what she thought she wanted. Space. And she couldn’t be more miserable.
“Don’t—want—that.” Andrew slapped away the spoon of mashed potatoes his mother had been trying to feed him. The flatware clattered on the floor.
Justine watched the spoon skid beneath the bed. Beverly’s hand clenched. Kent looked away. Marcus bent and picked it up. “We’ll come back later.”
“Stay,” Andrew said, his stilted voice angry and defiant. “You—can-can’t.” His hands loosely fisted in frustration as he tried to find the words that had once flowed so eloquently from his mouth.
“You can’t take over Andrew’s firm or his speaking engagements,” Beverly said.
From the venomous look Andrew sent her, he didn’t appreciate her help.
Kent, who had stayed in the background after speaking, stepped forward. “Andrew, the foundation can’t survive without incoming revenue. With each retreat Marcus has conducted, the attendance has grown.”
“No-not me.”
Marcus laid his big hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “No one could take your place. I know that better than anyone. You’re the man. I’m just standing in until you’re able to do the retreats yourself.”
Andrew lightly shrugged his shoulder. “Li-ar. Wan-want mine.”
Justine couldn’t imagine Marcus looking more hurt or shocked if Andrew had hit him. “Never. I love you, man, like a brother.”
“You—want—mine,” Andrew said, his eyes hard.
“I’ve never wanted what was yours. I was always content to stay in the background,” Marcus defended. “You know that. You always said, take care of Justine and the foundation, and that’s what I tried to do.”
Andrew’s eyes went to Justine. “M-mine.”
Justine folded her arms. Day by day Andrew had grown more petulant and difficult to be with. His physical therapy was going well. He was even able to take a few steps by himself and feed himself, although Beverly liked to do it for him.
What he couldn’t do that had been so much a part of him was speak clearly and eloquently. The words no longer rolled off his tongue with such unpretentious ease. His speech impediment flustered and angered him. He seemed to relish taking it out on everyone, as he was doing now.
Anger replaced the hurt on Marcus’s face. “I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Justine said. “He loves and values you and Kent. Perhaps you can come back later in the week.”
“We’ll leave then.” Kent grabbed Marcus’s arm when he didn’t move. “Good-bye.” The door closed behind them.
“How dare Marcus try to get huffy!” Beverly said, moving the bedside table from across Andrew’s bed. “Without you, he’d be nothing. He’ll return to nothing when you take over the foundation again.”
“No—th-ing,” Andrew said, his voice still echoing the raspy voice he’d had since awakening.
Beverly smiled benevolently, as if he’d just said something profound, then went into the bathroom and came out
with a dampened washcloth she’d brought from home.
Justine studied them both. Had she really ever known either of them? She’d always thought Beverly sweet and caring. She understood her fierceness to protect her only child and son. This pettiness was a side of her mother-in-law that she’d not seen before.
As for Andrew, was this petulant and self-centered man who he really was? Had he hidden the real Andrew just as he’d hidden his affair? Thank goodness she had moved on, and didn’t have to deal with them for much longer. “I’ll be going.”
“It’s not eight,” Beverly said, washing Andrew’s hands.
“No, it isn’t. Good night.” Justine couldn’t wait to call Dalton. They hadn’t spoken in weeks. She wanted to tell him that she planned to start divorce proceedings the day Andrew was discharged.
No longer did she dread telling his mother and hers. Under Marcus and Kent’s leadership the foundation would continue to prosper. If people blamed her and her business suffered, so be it. Being with and loving Dalton was worth any price she had to pay.
In the van she called Dalton’s cell, but there was no answer. She then called Brianna, then Patrick. Neither had talked to Dalton for a couple of days. Patrick said Dalton had canceled their boating trip for that weekend. Worried, Justine drove out to his house. Her heart sank when she pulled up and didn’t see his Jeep. The new brass lanterns glowed on either side of the carved door, but there was no answer to her repeated ringing of the doorbell.
She walked back to the van and drove home. The only thing that kept the fear and tears from falling was remembering Dalton’s words—he loved her. She climbed into bed looking forward to the day he’d tell her again and they could be together.
Twenty-five
Brianna had never in her life wanted to harm another human—except Jackson, but she considered that justified—until now. She trembled with a rage she easily recognized as jealousy.
Not twenty feet away at the end of the marina two curvaceous women in skimpy bikini swimsuits were on either side of Patrick, their bodies pressed against his as if trying to make a human sandwich out of him. They were the same two bold women who’d worn disgracefully short sundresses last night at the monthly condominium meeting. They’d been hanging on Patrick then as well.
The only reason she’d gone was to see Patrick and accept his invitation for the boat outing and dinner afterward. She’d called, but his machine hadn’t been on. She came home from work and saw him from her balcony and decided to tell him in person. Looked like she shouldn’t have bothered.
Laughing, he looked up and saw her. Quickly she turned away. The last thing she wanted was for him to know she was jealous. There was a park across the street. She’d just walk over there and act as if that were her intention all along. If he wanted those women, he could have them. She stepped off the curb without looking.
“Brianna, look out!”
Patrick’s warning came an instant before the blast of a horn. She looked up and stumbled back as the late-model sedan swerved, barely missing her. Trembling, she stood on the sidewalk.
“Are you all right?” Patrick asked, his eyes running over her, his hands around her upper arms.
“Yes.” Brianna thought his voice was as shaky as hers.
“What were you thinking!” Patrick yelled. “How could you be so careless? If I hadn’t been looking, you might have been hit.”
“All you were looking at were those two women hanging on you!” she yelled back.
His hands flexed on her arms. “You’re the only woman I want hanging on me. The only woman I want.”
Brianna started to cry and didn’t seem able to stop.
“Oh, honey.” Tenderly, he pulled her into his arms. “Please don’t cry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I was just so scared. I’d die if you were hurt.”
The tears fell faster. Sobs were wrenched from her chest.
“Honey. Don’t.” Patrick picked her up in his arms and headed back to the condos. He didn’t care about the curious stares, only the woman in his arms. Somehow he managed to open his door without releasing her. Inside his condo, he sat on the sofa with her still in his arms.
“I planned to wait, but the near accident reminded me that tomorrow isn’t promised.” He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I planned to stay away to see if you’d realize that you miss me, care about me. But, after what just happened, I can’t. I love you, Brianna.”
She gasped and stared up at him with tears shimmering in her eyes, watchful, waiting.
“The future isn’t promised, honey. The child you’re carrying might be the only one you’ll ever have or there could be dozens.”
He laughed at her incredulous expression, then kissed her lips. “Marry me, and let me be a husband to you and a father to your baby, our baby.” He kissed her lips again. “I’d get on my knees, but I don’t want to let you go yet.”
She finally found her voice and her courage. “I’m scared, Patrick. Scared whatever you’re feeling won’t last when the baby starts to grow.”
He stared into her eyes. “I love you, Brianna. My love will only grow stronger, deeper. The baby is an extra special blessing that I’ll cherish as much as I cherish and love you.”
She believed him. Tears of joy crested in her eyes. “Oh, Patrick. I don’t want you to let me go either.” Her hand gently palmed his face. “You’re the special one. I got sidetracked because of the man I trusted and shouldn’t have.”
“I won’t let you or the baby down, ever,” he told her. “Trust your heart. Trust me.”
She stared into his beautiful black eyes and felt tears crest in her eyes. She saw forever. “I love you so much.”
“Brianna,” her name trembled over his lips. “You did it.”
“Because I know you’d pass the naked woman test.”
A frown darted across his brow. “What?”
She laughed at the strange expression on his face. “I al-ways said the man I loved, the man who loved me wouldn’t care if a naked woman danced in front of him, he’d always come home to me.”
“For me there is no other woman,” he said softly.
The words went straight to her heart. “I know that now. Neither will you let what people say sway you or deter you. You listen to your conscience and your heart. From now on I’ll listen to mine.”
“Then you’ll marry me?” he asked.
More happiness than she ever imagined swelled within her. “Yes. I’ll marry you. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Never.” His mouth took hers in a hungry kiss that set them both on fire. Picking her up, Patrick carried her to his bed and gently laid her down, then removed their clothes. He kissed her face, her breasts, laid his face against her quivering stomach. “You’ll be loved and wanted,” he told the baby.
Brianna felt tears sting her eyes again. She blinked them away. “We’re blessed to have you.”
His dark head lifted. “I’m the one who’s blessed,” he whispered, then proceeded to show her.
The next morning Justine received Brianna’s call with news of her engagement just as she was leaving for the hospital. She couldn’t have been happier for her best friend and Patrick. They made plans to meet for dinner the next day so Brianna could fill Justine in on all the details of the proposal, and discuss wedding plans with her maid-of-honor. Tonight she and Patrick were celebrating with her parents. They were both teary-eyed by the time they hung up.
Happiness was possible.
Justine kept her good mood despite the morning freeway traffic snarl she encountered a few miles from her house. She looked at the long line of cars and called Beverly. “Good morning, Beverly. I’m stuck in traffic. I’m going in to work. I’ll come to the hospital around noon.”
“All right, dear. Thanks for calling. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.” Justine stared at the phone. Beverly sounded more like her old self. Shaking her head, she started to put the phone away, then dialed Dalton’s number instead.
Aft
er a dozen or so rings she hung up. “Please come back soon,” she whispered, then eased off the brake and onto the gas as the cars ahead began to move with increasing speed. Whatever the problem was, it must have been cleared up, she thought.
Five minutes later she neared the exit to the hospital and changed her mind about going on to work. She wanted to see Dr. Lane. He hadn’t been able to give her a possible date for Andrew’s discharge earlier in the week. She hoped that had changed now.
She sensed he was being more cautious after he’d been wrong about Andrew’s chances of recovering. He’d apologized the day of the news conference. She’d accepted his heartfelt words. Mistakes happen. Andrew had wronged her, but she didn’t want him to die. She just wanted the freedom to be with Dalton.
After parking, she rode the elevator to the ninth floor, where all the rooms were suites. Andrew had been moved there a week after he was transferred from ICCU. He might be angry with Kent and Marcus, but their management of his foundation, which included a comprehensive insurance plan, had allowed him to have the best the hospital had to offer.
Justine spoke to the nurse and continued down the hall. Mornings were always busy with the nursing staff getting their patients ready for the day. She stepped around a group of student nurses and a volunteer with a cart of periodicals for the patients, then stopped abruptly. A woman stood at Andrew’s door. She pushed it open a few inches, then released it and turned. Their gaze met.
Teresa Moore, Andrew’s ex-secretary, hesitated, then took a half step backward. The young woman looked at Andrew’s door, then up and down the hall as if looking for an escape. There was none. His room was at the end of the hallway. Head tucked, she started toward Justine.
When she had almost reached her, Justine stepped into her path. Teresa’s dark head came up. She bit her lower lip. “Hello, Teresa. Don’t let me stop you from going in. I’m sure Andrew would like to see you. You haven’t visited before. At least I haven’t seen you.”
The other woman’s eyes darted around the hallway. “Hello, Justine. I’ve been kind of busy.”
