Heaven Sent (6 page)

The word reminded her of the American convalescing under her parents’ roof. Turning, she made her way into the house.

Walking down the hall, she stepped into the guest room and saw David reclining on a chair, eyes closed, his right foot resting on the ottoman. The sheet, draping his body like a toga, floated to the floor in graceful folds. She knocked softly against the open door.

His eyes opened and he glared at her. “Why did you lie to me about my face?”

S
erena felt as if the breath had been siphoned from her lungs as she struggled to breathe. It was apparent that he had looked at a mirror.

“I did not lie to you.” She struggled to control her temper.

David slowly lowered his right leg, the effort it took to complete the motion clearly marked on his face. That he was in pain was evidenced by his grimace and bared teeth.

“I asked about my face and you said it was healing.”

“The doctor said it was healing. And it is.”

“What he didn’t say was that I would be scarred for life.”

Suddenly the strain of what she had undergone for the past two weeks swept over Serena. Hearing of her brother’s arrest; listening to the charges leveled against
him; hearing the judge deny him bail; seeing him handcuffed and led out of a courtroom; knowing that if a jury found him guilty that he would die in Florida’s electric chair.

Gabriel Diego Vega was going to die, while arrogant David Cole was only concerned about a little scar along the side of his face, a scar which probably could be eradicated by cosmetic surgery. Walking over to the bed, she picked up two pillows and launched them at David like guided missiles. One landed on his lap, the other at his feet.

Her mood veered from fear to frustration, and then to full-blown anger. “My brother is going to die, and all you can think about is a little scratch on your face.” Swallowing hard, she attempted to blink back tears and failed. They overflowed, staining her cheeks. “It sickens me to have to look at you.” Turning, she raced out of the bedroom, ignoring David as he called out her name.

My brother is going to die
. The six words echoed in David’s head like the slow pounding sound of a kettle drum. Closing his eyes, he lowered his head, ignoring the band of pain tightening its vise around his temples.

The image he saw behind his lids was that of Serena’s face and her tears. He saw the tears
and
her sadness. He was alive, bruised and battered but alive, while her brother was going to die.

When, he asked himself, had he become so selfish? When had he come to think only of David Cole, and no one else but David Cole?

Resting his head against the back of the wing chair, he slowly opened his eyes and stared at the space where Serena had been. He hadn’t been that way when he was with Night Mood. He had been a member of a band who thought of themselves as an extended family. They’d
traveled, eaten, slept, and rehearsed together. The six men saw more of one another than they did their own biological family members. The six men thought as one, and performed as one unit.

But his own selflessness stopped once he left Night Mood and took over as CEO of ColeDiz. His focus became productivity and profit margins. All he thought about was winning, at any cost.

He remembered a time when he had not wanted anything to do with business. All he’d wanted, knew, and breathed, was music. And as much as he fought the pull, his instincts for business were predetermined. His maternal grandfather, his own father, and his brothers had been, and were, consummate deal makers. A small amount of capital in their hands proliferated like yeast-filled dough.

His first passion had been, and would always be, music, but over the past nine years deal making had become a priority. And with the deal making came a hardness, a self-centered ruthlessness he hadn’t realized he possessed—until now.

Serena Morris had taken care of him, while he only cared about himself. He was alive, while her brother was going to die. He could not retract what he’d said, but he could try to make amends.

Using the armrests as support, he pushed to his feet, swaying, then stood upright. He ignored the pain in his head and foot as he gingerly made his way slowly across the room. Stumbling, he gathered the sheet in his right hand and inched his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway. It took Herculean strength for him to turn his head to the right, then the left. His bedroom was at the end of the hallway, so using the wall as his support he turned left. He had to find Serena. He had to
apologize. He also needed answers to a few questions. If this was really
La Montaña
, then what was she to Raul Cordero-Vega?

He ignored the wave of heat and then chills which were sweeping over his face and chest. A rush of dizziness caused him to stumble again. Reaching out, he braced a hand against the wall, steadying his progress and slowing his pace.

Moisture beaded his forehead and coated his upper body. Each step he took weakened him, but he would not give in to the relentless pain stealing whatever strength was left in his battered body.

He slowed his halting steps in front of a door. Leaning against its solid surface, he knocked. There was no answer and he tried turning the doorknob. It was locked.

He continued down the wide hallway, his bare feet making no sound on the Moorish style patterned runner. Even though the next room was less than twenty feet away it could have been all of two hundred. Gritting his teeth in frustration, David willed the dizziness to abate. He could abide the pain, but not the dizziness and weakness.

The door to the next room was open; leaning weakly against the door frame, David saw Serena. She stood with her back to the door, staring out the window. She was motionless, her arms wrapped around her body in a protective gesture.

With his uninjured eye he noticed the slender lines of her body in the black slacks. The dark color slimmed her narrow waist and hips. His gaze moved up to her hair, and for the second time since he’d come to Costa Rica he smiled. He liked her hair. Right now it was secured on the top of her head but he wanted to see it
down, floating around her face and shoulders in a rich cloud of gold-brown and red curls.

“
Lo siento mucho, Serena
.”

She heard the melodious male voice and spun around. Her gaze widened when she saw David supporting his sagging body against the door. Crossing her bedroom quickly, she wound an arm around his waist, and when he attempted to adjust the sheet it fell to the floor.

Leaning heavily against her smaller frame, David closed his eyes and swallowed back the bile threatening to make him sick. “I’m sorry,” he said, repeating his apology in English.

Serena saw the beads of moisture dotting his forehead. Never had she encountered anyone as stubborn as David Cole. “
Usted tiene que guardar cama
.”

“I’ll go back to bed and stay there,” he promised. “It was just that I wanted to apologize to you. And why is your brother going to die?”

Supporting most of his weight on her shoulder, she turned and led him back to his bedroom. “I’d rather not talk about my brother right now. You can apologize after you’re better.”

“Okay,” he conceded, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

They made it back to the bedroom, David falling heavily onto the bed. She lifted his legs and he lay back against the two remaining pillows. Closing his eyes, he successfully swallowed back the bile, berating his foolishness. Serena was right. He had to stay in bed.

He lay motionless as she took his temperature and blood pressure. The sensual scent of her was everywhere—in the air and on his flesh. His head hurt, his face ached, and his right foot throbbed continuously,
yet he could not quell the desire he was beginning to feel for the woman taking care of him.

She barked at him like a storm trooper, issuing orders like a drill sergeant, yet he was drawn to her. She was a princess and an angel, one sent from heaven to save his life.

Serena withdrew a sheet from the chest at the foot of the bed and spread it over David’s motionless body. His blood pressure was normal, as well as his temperature. A slight smile curved her lips. He was healing.

Placing the back of her hand against his stubbly left cheek, she stared at the perfection of his face. David Cole had every right to be upset. The scar would mar his exquisite masculine beauty.

“Would you like me to shave you?”

David opened his eyes, staring up at her with large eyes that were so black that she couldn’t see into their liquid, obsidian depths. The bruise over the left one was now a deep purple instead of its former crimson.

“I’d like that very much.”

Serena realized the deep, melodious quality of his voice for the first time. It was a low, rich, soothing baritone. She also recognized the cadence of a U.S. Southern drawl whenever he spoke English.

“I picked up a few things for you to wear. I don’t believe it would be in your best interests to continue walking around in the nude.”
Not that you don’t have a beautiful body, David Cole
, she mused.

He smiled up at her, displaying his enchanting dimples. “How can I thank you?”

Pulling her hand away, Serena cocked her head at an angle and studied his animated features. “Thank me by getting well, David Cole.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Serena Morris.”

She returned his smile. “I’ll be right back.”

It took her less than ten minutes to retrieve the clothes she had bought him and to fill the large crock bowl with hot water. Shaving him while he lay in bed presented a problem. It would have been easier if he sat on the armchair. But she did not want to get him out of bed. Her only solution was to straddle his body.

Removing her sandals, she knelt on the side of the bed, then hoisted a leg over his body. David gave her an incredulous look when she supported most of her weight on the heels of her feet as she perched her lithe body over his thighs.

“Can you think of a better way?” she questioned, reaching across his body for a cloth she had placed in the bowl of hot water on the bedside table.

He couldn’t answer her, because his body had reacted immediately to the pressure of her buttocks pressed against his groin. The only barriers between them were cotton and linen, and there was no doubt that she felt the rising of his sex under her rear end.

Serena’s hands were shaking as she wrang the water out of the facecloth and placed it over the lower half of David’s face. What was she doing? She was sitting on a naked man who, although injured, was fully aroused. And there was no doubt that she had aroused him.

She wanted David to close his eyes so he wouldn’t see her own reaction to his obvious desire. But he didn’t, and seconds later his gaze went from her face to her chest, where her distended nipples were visible through the lacy cups of her bra and the delicate fabric of her linen blouse.

Her gaze widened. “Close your eyes,” she ordered in a breathless whisper.

He complied, smiling. “That will be a lot easier
to do than getting another part of my body to follow your orders. There are times when
it
has a mind of its own.”

Serena felt the heat in her face sweep over all of her body. It settled between her thighs, and it took Herculean will to not respond to the pulsing hardness pressing up against her buttocks.

Shaking a can of shaving cream, she pushed the button, and peaks of cream settled on her fingertips. She marveled that she didn’t cut or nick David as she drew the razor expertly over his jaw, circumventing the area over his left cheek where Dr. Rivera stitched the flesh together.

She eased herself off his body, noticing that his arousal had not abated. It was apparent that her patient was a healthy, virile male who would be more than sexually adequate when having to perform.

Sanding at the bedside, she wiped away all traces of shaving cream and applied an astringent to his smooth, brown cheeks.

David opened his eyes for the first time since Serena had ordered that he close them. He realized that she was as affected by his body’s reaction as he was by hers. The softness of her flesh, her sensual scent of flowers and musk clinging to her skin, and the firm roundness of her bottom pressing against his sex had him close to exploding. What he did not want to do was embarrass himself by spilling his lust on the bed instead of in her body. His gaze widened in shock. He hadn’t known her twenty-four hours and he wanted her! Wanted to be inside her!

Wanting to sleep with Serena Morris went against everything he believed in. He’d never engaged in gratuitous sex! Not ever! Not as a teenage boy nor as a
popular musician. Aside from the nickname of Dracula, the members of Night Mood had also called him “The Monk,” because he refused to sleep with women when touring.

He had always been careful to not drink too much for fear of losing control and ending up in bed with a woman who would later claim that he was the father of her baby. His retort when the band members teased him was that he wanted no part of a paternity scandal; even more than avoiding any legal entanglements or entrapments, he wanted the choice to be his when he decided to marry and father children.

David did not know why he thought of marriage and children now. Did his thoughts have something to do with Serena Morris? Was it because she had helped save his life that he felt they were connected? That he owed her something? That perhaps he wanted to repay her by offering to share his life with her?

He touched his jaw, savoring the feel of smooth flesh under his fingertips. A slow smile softened his mouth. “You’re much better than my barber. Thank you.”

Wiping her hands on a towel, Serena returned his smile. “My barbering skills do not extend to haircuts. Not unless you’d like me to shave your head.”

David ran a hand over his close-cut, graying hair. “I don’t think so.” There had been a time when he wore his shoulder-length hair in a ponytail, and he missed the long hair, black attire, and diamond stud earring from his Night Mood era.

She dropped the razor in the bowl along with the facecloth and towel. Taking a surreptitious glance at her patient, she noticed the expression of satisfaction softening his features.

“I’m going to help you into a pair of boxers. Then
I’ll see about getting you something to eat,” she stated firmly.

He flashed another dimpled smile. “Thank you.”

She emptied her purchases on the foot of the bed, picking up a pair of plain white boxers. “I didn’t know your size, so I picked up a thirty-six.”