by Vonnie Davis
How had he ever felt any attraction for this spoiled, fake woman? “We’re through Pilar. Tonight is the last night we’re seeing each other.”
She stepped back a pace, her face contorted with rage. “What did you just say?”
“This is our last evening together. Now finish getting dressed so we can get this over with.” He slipped a roll of antacids from his pants pocket and popped two into his mouth.
Pilar reared back like a boa constrictor, ready to strike. “Why you vile, mean bastard! How dare you treat me like this?”
He leaned toward her and narrowed his eyes. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been cheating on me and doing drugs.”
“Oh pooh. Only at parties, which hardly counts.”
“Which at parties? The cheating or the drugs? Look, we don’t have enough in common to maintain a relationship. You’re silk and champagne. I’m denim and cold beer. I blame myself for not realizing it earlier. Your beauty blinded me. It took me a long time to realize how spoiled you are. I run a large ranch and don’t have time or the endless finances to accommodate your many whims.”
She threw a few more insults and hurled some expensive vases and figurines. But when he turned to leave, she calmed down and begged him to go through the evening.
Pilar was in a major pout when they returned to her condo building earlier than she wanted. When they stepped onto the elevator, she complained. “I still don’t see why we had to leave so early. The party wasn’t even in full swing yet.” She shot him a disgusted look when he depressed the button for her floor. “Was it because some people were doing coke? I’ve told you, it’s no big deal. It’s a way for people to relax. Yes, I did some, but only a couple lines.”
“I don’t approve of drugs. They make slaves of people.” They were from two different worlds, he and Pilar. Why hadn’t that obvious fact slapped him between the eyeballs ages ago? Man, a Q-Tip displayed more smarts than he had over this woman.
“Sometimes you can be so uptight, darling.” The doors of the elevator whispered open. Pilar sashayed down the carpeted hallway, removing her key from her tiny bag. “You never even commented on my new purse.” She pouted. “It’s Louis Vuitton, and you never even noticed.”
“Do I look like I give a rat’s ass about a woman’s handbag? Good night, Pilar, and good bye. Don’t call. Don’t text. We’re through.”
He smiled when she slammed the door in his face. One hurtle down. He’d made it damn clear their relationship was over. Now, he had to work at winning over Rachel. Just how he would do that would take some major planning. He’d really hurt her this evening by seeing Pilar.
Chapter Thirteen
Storm and Rachel politely ignored each other for the next four days. The tension of their silent warfare strained Rachel’s nerves. At times she wanted to toss her clothes into her suitcases, grab her laptop and kiss the Triple-S good-bye. Then little Sawyer would come charging into a room wearing the cape she made him or she’d see Sunny making progress, and she knew she had to stay. She was settling into a routine that revolved around Sunny and the little boy.
Every morning, Rachel would rise early, eat a container of yogurt and run two trips back and forth to the gates, totaling a five-mile run, something she needed with her sugar levels jumping all over the place. Storm evidently got up earlier, ate his breakfast and busied himself around the ranch so he wouldn’t come in contact with her. Which was fine by Rachel.
After her run, she’d shower and dress, then she’d place a card bearing an inspiring thought on Sunny’s breakfast plate. When Mother and child came downstairs for breakfast, Sawyer would clap his hands, begging his mommy to read him the card. Sunny would read it aloud, explaining it to the child in simplistic terms. Rachel admired Sunny’s gift of being a good and patient mother.
Sawyer, sweet child that he was, had giggled and charmed his way into Rachel’s heart. He’d worn her hand-sewn Superman cape faithfully from the time she’d put it on him. Echoes of his running and shouting, “Supa-man Sawyer! Here to wesque you! Here to fight ebil. Supa-man Sawyer!” filled the house.
For the first time in her life, she was thinking about having a child of her own. In the future, of course, after she married. Still, for a woman who’d been obsessed with her education and career, dreaming of being a mother one day was a giant leap. The problem was every child she envisioned holding in her arms, nursing at her breast, had straight dark hair and proud black eyes.
After breakfast, she’d have Sunny tend to her pots of healing herbs, pinching and watering. She was growing peppermint, lemon balm, rosemary, valerian and sage. Rachel also helped Sawyer plant two little offshoots of the plants in clay pots. Mother and son fussed over their herbs together. When Sawyer consistently drowned his plants with too much water, Rachel looked the other way and smiled. He was such an exuberant child; she adored him.
Much as Sunny hated taking more pills, Rachel added many vitamins and high-quality supplements to her regimen. Her patient didn’t complain—much.
In addition, Sunny was adjusting to the changes in her diet. Noella was now cooking with olive oil and serving more fresh fruits and vegetables.
Sunny’s time in the pool, followed by sunning on a chaise lounge, gave her some color. Water aerobics and swimming laps were slowly increased her strength and endurance. Playing in the pool with her son was adding joy to her life. During her a daily massage, she and Rachel exchanged secrets and shared dreams. Her patient was allowing herself to hope for a future with Jackson. Daily applications of special lotions Rachel blended softened Sunny’s scaly skin again, adding a healthy glow.
Preliminary plans for Sunny and Storm’s birthday barbeque were listed on a notepad Sunny organized over and over. The thought of being well enough to have a party had her so excited. Noella was in charge of hiring caterers and engaging the band. Storm hired a bartender and rented canopies and chairs. Sunny designed and printed invitations for thirty friends while Storm hovered nearby, scowling and fretting over his sister’s time in front of the computer. He wanted her resting. She’d never seen a man so protective of those he loved. Rachel’s job, it seemed, was to mail the invitations in town at the post office and then stay out of the way, or so Storm silently implied with an imperiously raised eyebrow.
Fine. She could do that. Never let it be said Rachel Irene Dennison stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. Still, the man confused her with his mixed signals. At times he avoided her and at times he was everywhere, watching her with those dark eyes.
One afternoon when she was carrying a tray of steaming green tea and homemade cookies into the den for Sunny, she stumbled. She’d known Storm was behind her in the hall and was paying attention to his footsteps following her. Perhaps that’s how the toe of her shoe got caught under the edge of the Oriental carpet.
Storm’s strong arms swiftly went around her waist, drawing her back to the hardness of his chest, steadying her, unnerving her. “Careful, mouse. You okay?” he breathed against her ear. Her stomach did that crazy flip-flop thing it did whenever he touched her. God, but I miss his hands on me.
She nodded, afraid if she turned to look into his eyes, she’d be lost. To her delight and displeasure—she didn’t know which, her feelings were so jumbled these days—he brushed her hair back with his fingertips and kissed her neck, keeping his lips pressed to her as if he couldn’t bear for the connection to end. “You smell like heaven, sweetheart.” Then he silently turned and left the room. The man had her so confused with desire and irritation, she wanted to hurl the tray of teacups against the wall.
When Rachel handed Sunny her freshly brewed cup of green tea, Sunny rolled her eyes and droned on about her eyes starting to turn green from so much of the brew. Although she’d observed the scene between Rachel and Storm, Sunny didn’t mention it, thank goodness. She’d have burst into tears if the woman had.
Sunny was the model patient. She’d read the Mayo Clinic report Rachel showed her, which stated that green tea extract he
lped reduce the number of leukemia cells and shrink swollen lymph nodes. Thus, green tea had become Sunny’s drink of choice.
Everyone was pleased with Sunny’s small steps of improvement. Every day brought new challenges and ever increasing degrees of hope. However, Rachel had to admit the biggest impetus to Sunny’s progress was the blooming relationship between her and Jackson Cole.
The old cliché that the road to true love was never smooth certainly applied to those two. Sunny shared all the ups and downs, the passionate times and the arguments, the mistakes and misunderstandings that had kept them apart when they were so clearly perfect for each other. She confided to Rachel her hope that this time, they’d get things right.
Their feminine delight was phenomenal when they discovered signs of dark hair growth on Sunny’s scalp. Sawyer ran his little hand over his mommy’s head. “Mommy, your haih is as soft as Pistol’s. Are you gwowing doggie haih?” Both women pealed with laughter. The basset hound barked at their exuberance, adding to their joyous melee.
Rachel had taken to riding Princess in the evenings after dinner. Red always rode along to keep her company and to “relax,” he claimed. She figured he was afraid she’d get lost, and perhaps she would have. The ranch was immense but vastly beautiful. No wonder Storm—jerk that he was—loved every inch of it.
Red seemed to enjoy showing her the property. He’d spent a good part of his life there, working first for Mr. Blackhawk and now for Storm. He expressed great respect for his boss, bringing his name up at every opportunity, which wasn’t something Rachel needed to hear when she was so angry with him. Even so, Red was teaching her things about the ranch.
Some sections of the land were flat, so flat you could see for miles and miles. Hundreds of heads of cattle grazed on the range. Other sections contained hills and wooded areas, all teaming with wildlife. She especially liked riding along the creek, listening to its calming song as it rippled and surged over rocks.
Red pointed out wildlife and vegetation. Along the creek were bald cypress trees with needle-like leaves, Yaupon, an interesting evergreen, Parsley Hawthorne and many more varieties Red knew, but she’d never remember. He showed her cottontail rabbits, raccoons, fox squirrels and white-tail deer. Last evening they’d seen a pair of coyotes watching them from a hill. He taught her to listen for armadillos, which you heard digging for food long before you saw them. She found it fascinating that momma armadillos always bore four pups, all of the same sex.
Time seemed to stand still when she rode Princess. For in those fleeting moments, all of life’s problems disappeared. Because of its emotional benefits for Rachel, she planned to start Sunny riding again next week. This added pleasure was sure to boost her patient’s mood.
Rachel had to admit she chose to ride after dinner because Storm spent most evenings locked in his office. She was avoiding him as best she could. For that reason, she’d taken to eating her luncheon salad out on the patio by the pool, saying lunch should be family time. When Sunny objected, Storm flatly stated the nurse should eat her lunch wherever she damned well pleased. Evidently, he didn’t want her near him any more than Rachel wanted to be near him.
Once Storm carried Sawyer to his room for the child’s afternoon nap, Sunny would join Rachel on the patio. Their after-lunch walks had increased to two trips around the ranch house, followed by acupuncture and Sunny’s nap.
When Sunny was rested, Rachel led her through her yoga poses. Her patient was gaining strength and feeling more alive.
She, on the other hand, was feeling restless and lifeless with the absence of Storm’s company, his touch, his kiss—and she didn’t like it. Nor did she like the fact she constantly relived that sensual session on the sofa. How could any other man possibly erase those few moments of intensity with Storm? Moments that clearly meant nothing to him, but everything to her.
To Storm’s credit, he was sickeningly polite on the occasions they ran into each other. It galled her. Still, wasn’t that what she’d told him? She was at the Triple-S solely as Sunny’s nurse, and nothing else. Hadn’t she insisted he leave her alone? Still, he didn’t have to go to such extremes. Where was he tonight? With his girlfriend…ex-girlfriend…whatever Pilar was?
She pierced a piece of steak and grumbled under her breath that Storm Blackhawk was a heartless bastard.
“You always attack your food like that? Or does eating red meat bring out your violent tendencies?” Jackson leaned back in his chair, holding a glass of iced tea. “I believe you could be downright dangerous, little lady.”
Rachel blinked twice, bringing the present into focus. She’d been so wrapped up in her mental venting that she’d withdrawn from the dinner conversation. Jackson had dropped by earlier with more roses for Sunny. She’d invited him to stay for dinner.
“Sorry. Guess I was zoning off.” Deep in thought about Storm Blackhawk and how he’d ruined her life.
Sunny placed her elbows on the table and folded her hands, resting her chin on them. “Do your thoughts revolve around my brother? My missing brother, I might add? I haven’t seen him all day. Have you, Noella?”
“Sí, earlier. He’s been very busy. Ranch stuff, you know.” The housekeeper shrugged.
Sunny gave Noella a strange look, her expression still quizzical when she turned to Rachel. “Is it my brother who’s upset you?”
Rachel shot a look at Jackson. He was Storm’s best friend. She doubted he wanted to hear her tear him apart. Fact was, tonight she didn’t have it in her to make polite chitchat. Her muscles were jumpy and her mood dark. She needed something. Maybe an after-dinner run to deplete her store of nervous energy. Her cell phone rang.
“Sorry, I thought I’d turned it off.” She slipped the jangling phone from the pocket of her white slacks and checked the display. “Oh, it’s Grace Palmer, my best friend.” She swiped the screen. “Hey, girl. What’s happening?”
“Rachel? Rachel…my apartment was broken into.” Grace was crying.
“Are you serious? Were you hurt?” Rachel’s throat tightened and her stomach twisted. The two of them had been roommates at the Southern Mississippi School of Nursing for four years. They’d forged a quick and lasting bond.
“I’m fine. I’m on night shift this week, so I was at the hospital when it happened. Whoever broke in came in through the sliding glass doors on my balcony.”
“Your balcony? You live on the third floor.” She shoved her hair back from her face. How awful for Grace to have the safety of her home violated like that. She must be very frightened.
Grace scoffed. “Yeah, so much for Dad’s philosophy of being safer on higher ground. Look, the thief took my grandma’s diamond and pearl ring, my new TV and”—she sighed—“my laptop.”
Rachel sipped her tea, hoping to steady her nerves. “Oh, honey, they’re just things. Except for your grandma’s ring, they can all be replaced. Thank God you weren’t home. You could have been hurt.”
“Mom keeps saying the same thing. But as for the ring…at first glance, Grandma’s ring doesn’t look valuable. It was in my jewelry box along with my high-school ring and the heart-shaped sapphire ring I bought on that cruise you and I went on two years ago. Remember? Only someone who knew the ring would see it was more valuable than the other two.” She cleared her throat. “Someone like a relative, Rach.”
Rachel frowned. Everything came to a standstill for a beat, including her breathing. No. No, she couldn’t mean her cousin, Kyle. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying? You…you think Kyle broke into your apartment?”
“That’s the theory the police are working on. The thing is, if he has my computer…”
A cold chill clawed its way up Rachel’s spine, like a prowling, menacing panther. “You…you had my contact information on your computer, didn’t you? And all of my emails.”
“I’m sorry, but yes, I did. They’re all under a file I labeled as BFF. I thought you should know, just in case.” Grace sounded full of regret.
Rachel�
�s gaze darted around the dining room, coming to grips with the cold, hard truth. Kyle knew where she was. Memories of the beatings, the yelling, the threats came rolling at her like the proverbial snowball on a hill, ever increasing in size as it silently barreled toward her.
“Rachel, I’m sorry.” Grace was crying again.
“It’s not your fault.” Her voice sounded wooden. “Where are you staying? Do you want to stay at my house? I can contact the realtor, tell her you’re using it should she want to show it.”
“No, my folks are insisting I come home until this whole mess gets settled.”
Rachel ended the conversation and placed her cell on the table next to her plate. Her heart was racing and her palms sweaty. Calm, she had to remain calm. Logical, she had to think logically. Had the thief been Kyle? Would Kyle break into his cousin’s home? He’d broken into hers. If he stole Grace’s computer, then he could access her emails, he’d find her address and new phone number. Her phone rang, and she jumped.
Chapter Fourteen
“You gonna answer that thing or just stare at it?” Jackson broke through Rachel’s fog of trepidation.
She flipped the phone over and closed her eyes a beat, pleading a silent prayer before looking at the display. Her heart sank—Kyle Benson. She couldn’t go through this all over again. Now he had her number, he’d call her relentlessly. She’d have to get it changed.
“Rachel? Is it Kyle?” Sunny’s voice was full of concern.
Before she could reply, Jackson reached across the table and snatched the phone from her hand. “Kyle Benson, this is Chief of Police Jackson Cole. If you’re stupid enough to call this number again, I assure you, your next phone call will be from a jail cell to your lawyer.” He tapped the end call icon and slid it back across the table.
