by Lily Harlem
Finally I arrived at The Metropolitan Hotel in Miami—a gloriously decadent art deco building set right against the beach. The sun was shining, people were milling around in beachwear and lavish cocktails were being sipped. I wondered why every conference couldn’t be held somewhere so wonderful. The last one I’d attended had been in Birmingham on a blustery day.
The first lectures were due to start early afternoon, kicking off with a welcome from Professor Nordstrom, the reflexology guru whom I was very much looking forward to meeting. Then there was to be an evening meal where attendees could mingle with the speakers and each other, swapping experiences, ideas and thoughts. Plans for the next day were workshops and lectures beginning straight after breakfast. My driver was picking me up at six o’clock and returning me to Orlando.
The thought of a night not being wrapped in fine hockey player muscles wasn’t particularly appealing. But I hoped I’d be too tired after my early start and a day of getting my brain into gear to notice.
“Welcome to Miami,” Professor Nordstrom said, smiling as he looked around the conference room that afternoon. “And thank you all so much for attending my annual reflexology seminar. It is such a joy to see so many of you.”
I switched off my mobile phone, slipped it into my purse and studied him. He was tall and slim, several years older than me, possibly just into his forties, and had short, dark hair. His face was long, his mouth wide and he had small glasses perched on his nose. The suit he wore was a pale shiny gray, his tie lilac and his Adam’s apple protruded over his collar.
I wouldn’t have been able to place his accent if I hadn’t read about his background. He was Latvian born, which was where he’d grown up and qualified in medicine. He then turned his back on hospital work after taking a research position in Malaysia and became more and more involved in traditional therapies like acupuncture, reflexology and Chinese herbs. Eventually he’d set up a holistic practice in Palm Springs—the Zen Retreat—that had become incredibly successful and a mecca for A-list stars. This in turn had boosted him to somewhat of a celebrity in the alternative therapy world.
With my pen poised to take notes, I listened to him chat about all we’d be learning. It was very interesting and I was sure I would glean lots of information to help with my own reflexology techniques. But there was one subject I particularly wanted to pick his brains about, and it didn’t appear to be on the agenda. I hoped I’d be able to get a quiet half hour with him at some point to go through my thoughts on spinal injuries and reflexology.
By the time I was getting ready for dinner, my stomach was rumbling. I dashed through the shower and pulled on the trusty green dress I’d packed in the UK but hadn’t expected to wear even once on my trip. This was its third outing. I’d thought about bringing my gorgeous new blue one, but it didn’t seem right to wear it without Raven. He had, after all, chosen and bought it. He deserved to see me in it the first time it came out of the closet. Though how long it would stay on was anyone’s guess.
After piling my hair up and teasing out a few coppery ringlets to hang around my neck, I slipped in long gold earrings and applied makeup. The look was summer evening dressy, and stilettoes perfected the outfit.
Standing in the elevator, I had a sudden pang of loneliness. I couldn’t shake it. The feeling was like a hole opening up in my stomach. Raven and I had been so close, spent so much time together lately, and not having him at my side to touch and talk to was strange. I suddenly wished I were wearing the blue dress, because that way he would be with me.
The door pinged open and I stepped out, my heels clacking on the hard tiles as I moved into the crowd. When had Raven claimed such a big chunk of my thoughts? And why didn’t I miss Todd the same way?
It was Todd who’d captured my attention to begin with. The temptation of dates and getting my hands on his naked body had had me trembling with anticipation. Raven, in comparison, had made me want to scream, slap him, get as far away from him as possible. His grunts and moods had been a nightmare, his surly face an irritation.
But not anymore. Now I just wanted him next to me. I was surrounded by people but still I felt alone.
Luckily the meal was superb. Fresh lobster with a dill sauce to start, then seared tuna steak and salad and finally a rich chocolate torte. My dining companions were chatty and fun, from various backgrounds and all with the same interest in reflexology as me.
I enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine and then a coffee. As the meal finished people began to circulate, heading to other tables and into the bar area to chat. I was just about to get a glass of mineral water when Professor Nordstrom sat down at my table.
“Good evening,” he said with a smile my way, holding out his hand. “I’m trying to get ’round to everyone and welcome them. I think you must be the last.” Behind his glasses, his dark eyes surveyed me.
Placing my hand in his, I twisted on my seat. “Hello, Professor, and thank you so much for this learning opportunity.”
“Ah, a UK accent. But not English.” He held up his palm to stop me speaking. “Or Scottish.” He twisted his mouth and narrowed his eyes. “Welsh, am I right?”
“Yes, well done. In the States not many people place it.”
“It’s very beautiful, melodic and light. And may I say, you are also very beautiful.”
A tingle of heat ran over my chest and I reached for my glass, only to find it empty.
“Would you like another?” he asked smoothly.
“Um, yes, please, that would be wonderful.”
He stood and gestured to the bar area. “Come, let’s get a drink and sit for a while. I would love to hear your thoughts on the topics covered so far.”
“Great, and I would really like to ask you about spinal injuries. I was working on a patient recently and he experienced the crossover effect.”
He nodded seriously. “Mmm, that has been noted before. We need to find somewhere quiet to discuss it.”
The professor directed me to a small round table in a dark corner of the bar. Once we’d settled into the two bucket seats, he ordered a bottle of wine for us to share.
I really didn’t need more alcohol. I wanted to have my thoughts straight if I was lucky enough to have his undivided attention. “Can I have a glass of mineral water please?” I asked the waiter.
He nodded and slipped into the hub of people.
“So first of all tell me your name,” the professor said.
“Fiona Wrigley, and it really is a pleasure to meet you, Professor.”
“Please, please, call me Lud. I would much prefer it.” He smiled, took off his glasses, folded the arms and poked them into his breast pocket.
I dipped my head. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lud.”
“And what is it you do? I’m intrigued already after your comment about spinal injuries.”
“I am a physiotherapist first and foremost. But the last five years I’ve been combining alternative therapies with my work and seeing great results.”
“Mmm, how interesting. There are not many corners of western medicine that can balance the two.”
I leaned forward, pleased that I’d captured his attention and trying to ignore the fact that my cleavage had also captured his gaze. “Yes, it’s proving to be a wonderful way to treat holistically, and incredibly satisfying as a therapist.”
He smiled and licked his lips. “And have you traveled to the US especially for my conference or are you working out here?”
“I’m working here, but just for a few weeks. It’s very fortuitous that this event has coincided.”
The waiter poured our wine and set the bottle in an ice bucket. Lud shifted his chair a little nearer to mine to make room for the stand. His knee brushed my leg but he didn’t move it.
I took a sip of wine and, deciding it would be rude to shift away, said, “So the paraplegic patient I mentioned. I was working on his left foot, base of toes reflexes, when his other foot began to twitch.”
Lud nodded and his li
ps pursed as though in deep thought. His eyes strayed to my cleavage again.
“I’d read that this can happen,” I went on, “and wondered if it had any long-term nerve revival benefits.
“Well it is such a critical area, the base reflex, a hub of activity for many other parts of the body.”
He was looking at me now as though he was imagining activity in certain parts of my body.
I moved my leg and wished the waiter had remembered to bring my water. “So do you think there is some new kind of nerve programming going on?” I asked.
“Could be. Did the patient experience any other sensations?” He placed the tip of his index finger on my wrist and ran it up to my elbow. “For example, any tingling or burning on his skin?” He leaned in close.
My body tightened and I swallowed. His aftershave was strong and woodsy and reminded me of walking outdoors on a damp autumn day. “Not that he reported.”
“I see. How about the return of any erectile function?”
What the—?
“I don’t know,” I managed. “I don’t think so. He’s a T12, L1 complete sever.”
“So he’s completely paralyzed from the waist down.” Lud shook his head and sighed. “Poor chap. I can’t imagine not being able to make love to a beautiful woman ever again.”
“Um, no. I guess not.” My head was spinning. This was not the way this conversation was supposed to go, and he was still tracing shapes on my arm.
“I’ve heard that Viagra can help some of these patients. If he still wants to enjoy some aspects of sex, that is.”
“Yes, I think so. He’s married but that really isn’t my area of expertise.”
He leaned closer, his wine-coated breath washing over my cheek. “I think it’s safe to say I am an expert in sexual function and sexual satisfaction.”
“I think you’ve probably had enough to drink,” I said, pulling away. “Why don’t we chase up that water?”
“I don’t want water.” Even though I’d shifted away, he followed me deeper into the shadow our table was nestled in. His body leaned right over mine. “I want you.”
I gasped as he circled his hand around my upper arm and tugged me close. “No, please.” What the hell was going on? I tried to lean back but was trapped between him and the wall.
“Get your fucking hands off her before I rip your ugly head from your neck and drop-kick it into the ocean.”
Raven’s deep, grating voice reverberated around us and I was aware of his huge shoulders filling my peripheral vision.
Raven was here? Really? My mind swam as that new piece of information sank in.
Lud turned, his expression no longer leery but shocked and irritated. “What the hell did you just say?” He didn’t let go of my arm.
Raven’s nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed to thin slits and his spoke with his teeth gritted. “Get your fucking hands off her, now.” He leaned forward, his chest swelling as he sucked in a breath.
“This woman is with me,” Lud said, tipping his head up to glare at Raven.
I couldn’t help but wonder about the professor’s sanity. Raven looked about to blow, rage radiated from every pore and his cheeks had risen in color from their usual coffee-colored hue to a deep scarlet.
I tugged my arm, tried to pull away. But I was hemmed in, trapped, my yank was to no avail.
The air sizzled with anger.
I wanted out of the whole situation.
“Do you know who I am?” Lud asked, prodding Raven’s chest with his free hand and apparently unaware of what he was unleashing. “Do you, huh? Do you?”
If I’d thought I’d heard Raven growl before, I’d been mistaken. For the noise that rumbled up from his belly and vibrated in his throat now was the sound one of the wolves on his arm would make. Menacing and dangerous.
Professor Nordstrom didn’t take any notice of the warning. “I am the professor at this conference,” he said snootily, “and therapist to the stars. Fiona and I are having a very important, intellectual conversation about one of her seriously ill patients.”
A smoky glaze flooded Raven’s eyes. I was vaguely aware of the room falling silent, of my heart thumping and my breaths becoming ragged. Lud’s fingers on my upper arm were pinching and tight.
Then it all happened so fast. With electric speed, Raven reached out and circled his hand around Lud’s neck. He shoved him back so his head hit the wall with a dull clunk, then tugged him upward and lowered his face so their noses touched.
He was still making that growling noise.
Lud squealed and finally released my arm.
But I didn’t move away. Raven was pressing into the professor, his considerable weight pinning him to the wall. I was sure he would crush his ribs.
“Sir, step away.” A member of hotel security appeared on the opposite side of the two men.
“I will when I’ve finished here,” Raven rumbled.
“Fuck, is that you? Raven Starr? Orlando Vipers?”
Raven turned to the security man who’d switched in an instant from an authoritative figure in uniform to a fan. A sea of faces behind him looked equally stunned by the kerfuffle being played out.
“It is you. Look, it’s Raven Starr.” The security man nodded excitedly at the crowd and grinned.
“Raven,” I said, resting my hand on his upper arm. “Let him go, come on.”
“You know this thug?” Lud squeaked at me. His defiance was breathtakingly stupid given his current position.
Raven pushed into him all the harder. There was a crunch that sounded suspiciously like spectacles breaking. “Yeah, she knows me, because she’s my woman, got it?”
Lud groaned and threw me a withering look. “You could have told me you’d brought your boyfriend along.”
“I didn’t know I had.” I slid my hand up Raven’s arm. His muscles were bunched and solid beneath his t-shirt. There was no moving that arm unless he wanted to. It seemed my treatment of his shoulder had been pretty effective. “Forget it,” I said. “It’s not worth it.”
He still didn’t move.
Lud writhed and pulled frantically at Raven’s thick forearms.
“I should rip your eyeballs from your head just for looking at her,” Raven snarled. He sucked in a deep breath and his eyes seemed to focus again, the glazed look melted—a little. “But it seems it’s your lucky day. She doesn’t want me to.”
“Let him go,” I said, tugging frantically on his arm.
As quickly as he’d grabbed Lud he released him and stepped back. He stared at me, his forehead creasing into a frown and his loose hair hanging messily around his shoulders. “You okay, Pumpkin?” His voice was halfway toward its usual rumbling tenor again.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I smoothed my palms down my dress.
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Watch yourself,” he said to Lud, “’cause one wrong look, one accidental brush of a sleeve and your head parts company with your body, got it?”
“You can’t threaten me like that, I am—”
Raven snarled and stepped forward, belligerence steaming from him.
I held my breath.
Shit.
Lud backed up, real fear finally flashing across his face. “Yes, yes, got it. Loud and clear.”
“Good.” Raven turned to me, reached for my hand. “You want to stay for a drink?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all.” The staring faces were oppressive, the heat claustrophobic. I noticed a camera flash.
“Right, come on then.”
“Raven, please, can I have your autograph?” the security guard asked.
“Later,” Raven grunted as he stepped past him, tugging me with him. “Later, okay?”
Chapter Eleven
Raven marched us through the restaurant and across the lobby. I had to walk quickly to keep up with him. My heels were loud, echoing on the hard floor.
“I need some air,” I said, snapping my hand from his and pointing at the huge revolving doors.
/> “Me too.”
Pushing outside, I relished the sea breeze that instantly coated my hot skin. But it could do nothing to dampen the anger inside me—anger that was bubbling up, sharp and mean like a knife prodding at my flesh.
With each step I took down the palm-tree-lined path, I felt more and more embarrassed by what had just happened. More and more indignant that Raven had felt the need to come to my rescue. Who did he think he was, a damn knight in shining armor?
I veered off the spotlit path toward a bench nestled by some acacia bushes. The sound of the ocean, only a few meters away, was loud and crashing, the constant push-pull of the waves a sizzling hiss.
I sat and dropped my head in my hands and was aware of Raven sitting next to me.
Silence stretched between us.
The urge to tumble out my annoyance tickled my tongue. But I didn’t want to let rip. I needed to think and not be my usual speak-first-think-later self.
“You better talk to me, ’cause I just wanna go back in there and mess that asshole up,” Raven said, suddenly standing. “I need distracting.”
I looked up at him. He was pacing with his fists clenched, his feet stomping on the grass.
“That asshole is a professor,” I said, “and actually very important in the world of reflexology.”
“Like I give a fuck about that. He’s just a creep who wasn’t going to take no for an answer.” He glared down at me.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I was watching from the bar. I saw him sidling up to you, touching you. Leaning in closer. I even lip-read you say no and he didn’t take the hint.”
“Exactly, I said no. I was about to get up and walk away.”
“He had hold of you.”
“Yes, but he would have let go and I’d have gotten us some water from the bar.” I stood and placed my hands on my hips. “I could still be in there discussing my patient.”
“Like fuck you could. He wasn’t interested in talking about your patient. He just wanted to get into your panties. Hell, his weasel eyes were as good as glued to your cleavage.”
I can’t deny that. But still. Decapitation?
