The Way You Make Me Feel (23 page)

Dr. Winslow half closed his eyes and smiled. “I'd let that stay in the present. What if he's telling the truth?”

“I've thought about that. Even if he is, he's in love with Honi. He's always loved her. He's putty in her hands.” She went on to tell him about Damien letting Honi go with them to the recording session at Mick's, about Honi coming back to Nashville with Damien and Whip.

“Sometimes a man who's determined to win does things he doesn't want to do. Your husband didn't get to be a mogul by holding back. He does what he feels he needs to do to get ahead.”

“Yes, I know, but before we married it was all about me. Then he changed.”

“Can you tell me how he changed?”

She expelled a harsh breath. “He kept Honi largely out of my hair. She came on to him all right, but he pushed her away. After we were married, he seemed to
enjoy
her flirting with him.”

“Maybe he felt safe. After all, he was married to you.”

“That's what he says. He loves her, Dr. Winslow. She's the love of his life.”

“Has he never told you he loves you?”

Tears came then and he let her cry. Finally she blotted her eyes with a tissue from the box beside her. “He swears he loves me, but he never really said it until the accident.”

“Sometimes it takes a blow of fate to make us know our minds.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I think he would move heaven and earth to help me get well. He feels guilty.”

“I'm sure he does. Do you believe in forgiveness?”

“I do. He's asked me to forgive him.”

“And will you?”

She thought about his question a long time before she answered. “I'm not sure…”

“You say you love him.”

“I wish I didn't.”

“But you do.”

“This morning he told me if the shoe were on the other foot, he'd forgive me in a heartbeat. I think he's telling the truth. I know it's not right, but I keep wanting to hurt him the way he's hurt me.”

“Revenge makes a cold bedfellow.”

Stevie thought about her wild, erotic visions of her and Damien together and nodded. “How I know that.”

“Consider forgiveness. You're carrying his child. You need all the love you can get.”

“Then I'm considering leaving you. I haven't seen you in a while and until the night of the accident, I've been doing really well.”

Dr. Winslow leaned back and crossed his long legs. “I don't think you should leave until you at least remember the details of the whirling ball. You're still set against hypnotism?”

“Yes.”

“Then let's slog on. You need to talk through your anger at Damien.”

“I could kill him.”

He smiled. “I know. The hurt went deep and that's a measure of your love for him.”

The time was up too soon, and Stevie made another appointment for a week later. She surely needed to talk more with Dr. Winslow about her fury at her mate.

As she and Damien walked to his car, she told him, “As I said earlier, drop me off on Music Row at my favorite record shop and I'll take a taxi home.”

“I was going to wait, take you to the office with me. I'm going to be there late. I thought we'd have a catered meal sent in.”

“No. I'm enjoying my feeling of freedom. I'll take a taxi home. I want to work on my song.”

“You've worked very well at my office. Plenty of space to be alone.”

Her cell phone rang as Damien helped her into the car. “Hello, lovey.” It was Mick. “I was out of the country on Lyric Island with Sileia. I heard about your accident as soon as I got back. How're you doing?”

“Oh, Mick. I'm doing fine. How is Lyric Island? Did you have a good time? And how is Sileia?”

“Everything's A-OK. Sileia was homesick. She's good for a while. Lyric Island's still a bit of paradise and yeah, we had a superb time. You and Damien have got to go there.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

“Were you badly hurt?”

She told him about her injuries and he sympathized. “Listen, Sileia's baked you a coconut-rum cake with macadamia nuts. It's a big one and she swears it will hasten your healing. We love you and we'll see you in a day or so. Do you have time for company?”

“I always have time for you two.”

“Give my best to Damien.”

“And you give my love to Sileia.”

 

Music Row was busy this time of day, but the record shop wasn't crowded and she browsed. For a moment she thought the album she wanted by Sade was out of stock, but she saw it out of place. She selected three of Mariah Carey's albums. The thing she most admired about Mariah was her performance, whereby she took one syllable of a lyric and stretched it over several notes. Stevie was good with this; Mariah was a genius.

As she studied the new country artists, she felt a light hand on her shoulder and looked around into Ron's face.

He stammered, “I—I wasn't sure you'd want to speak to me.”

“It's all right, Ron,” she said. “I've missed you.”

She would have sworn his eyes filled with tears. “And I've missed
you.
I heard about your accident and I wanted to come to the hospital, but I was ashamed. Thank you for not pressing charges. I didn't deserve that.”

“I think you did. Can we sit at that table over there?”

He nodded and they walked over and sat down. “How are you?” he asked her.

“I'm doing well. And you?”

“How well
can
I do? I've made a mess of my life. That's for certain. I read about you in Atlanta. You're hot and I hope you stay that way.”

“Would you consider coming back to the group?”

“You'd want me back?”

“I asked you.”

“Give me a while to get over this.” A tear slid down his cheek and his voice was choked. “I loved her, you know. I'll always love her. I wanted her jewels to keep all my life, but I got to drinking and I felt I had to get away. I had no money and I decided to hock a couple of pieces to live on. I felt she'd understand. I never told her I loved her, just hung on like a lovesick puppy dog.

“She talked to me, told me she had a married man she was crazy about and she was pressing him to get a divorce. She said she was going to do something to hurry the process along. That's how she put it. Then she was killed…”

Stevie drew a deep breath. “Detective Rollins thinks Keith Muncy did it. He broke parole and he's in jail. A man heard him threaten Bretta, saw him coming away from the place near where she was killed. It all seems to add up. He bragged to an informant that he was going to kill me, too.”

Ron shook his head. “My God, I'm glad they got him. If I had it to do over, I'd tell Bretta I love her and keep telling her. Love is too precious to play around with. My grandmother used to sing an old love song about speaking your love to those who seek your love. The title of the song is ‘Look to Your Heart.' Bretta didn't seek my love, but she had it all the same.”

Stevie had that song in her collection of golden oldies and she played it from time to time.

“How's Damien?”

“He's fine. He dropped me off here.”

Funny, since talking with Dr. Winslow and Ron she felt more relaxed, her heart felt easier. Maybe she was being a fool and it was too soon, but she was going to stick her neck out again. She wasn't taking the taxi home, but to Damien's office. And Honi had better not be there.

A
ugust came in cool and damp. It misted rain for four days straight. One afternoon Stevie got her gardening tools together in the greenhouse and began to transplant the trifecta orchid that Dr. Winslow had sent her. It had wilted slightly and she was none too soon. Her mouth pursed, she looked at the long-stemmed plant with its peach-pink line of blooms. He had told her it was one of his finest.

The night she had gone to Damien's office, he had been pleased and surprised. But she had felt shy about sleeping with him again. Her erotic dreams burned her at night. Sometimes she couldn't believe the heat in her body for him.

Her mind was easier now with Keith back in prison, but there was always Jake to think about. But nothing else had happened. Damien didn't need to guard her so closely and she was both glad and missed him at the same time.

She hugged herself because she felt good. Rainy weather was a favorite. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror opposite her, she smiled. Today she felt really well. Her wounds were healing rapidly. Thoughts about Ron's words when she'd last seen him still haunted her. About speaking your love to others. Again and again she'd started to talk to Damien only to fall silent, not knowing what to say. They seemed close, but an awkward silence lay between them. She had come to believe forgiveness really was divine, but he seemed a trifle shy now.

Damien came in and squatted beside the table where she worked. “What're you doing?”

“Just doing what I should have done a week ago.”

“Orchids remind me of you. Beautiful. Precious.”

Stevie blushed. “You always flatter me.”

“You look especially happy today, love. Are you?”

“Yes.” She turned a bit to look squarely at him and their blazing glances caught and held. She felt fire begin in her belly and traverse her body. It had been so long. He felt the same fire and wordlessly he rose and took her in his arms.

“We need each other,” he said huskily. “I've missed making love to you.”

There was no longer any sense in holding back; she knew what she wanted. He had said he loved her. Why not trust him? Maybe he spoke the truth. It was what she'd prayed for, wasn't it?

His eyes roved her body in the black halter and scarlet short-shorts and he groaned with lust and love that went to the marrow of his bones. “Stevie. Stevie,” he whispered. “Let's go into that little office. We don't have time to get to the house.”

He spoke for her, too, because she needed him inside her at that moment and hunger for him was consuming her.

Going inside the office, he locked the door, drew the blinds and stripped her clothes from her. He held her away from him and his gaze swept her before he kissed her long and ardently, his mouth playing games with hers as she felt herself melting.

“There's the little matter of your clothes still being on,” she murmured as she drew away and began undressing him. He stood passively, enjoying her ministrations before he began stroking her. Her flesh was smooth and soft and she moaned a bit as he took her face in his hands and his tongue courted the corners of her mouth, then went in and danced with hers. Pulling her buns in to him, he squeezed them gently and entered her.

“Peach syrup,” he said, smiling, entering her body that could wait for him no longer.

“Do you really love me?” she whispered. “Did you mean what you said about loving me?”

“I haven't said it just once. I told you I'd keep saying it and I have. I love you, my love. I'll always love you. I was a fool not to know it before.”

“I loved you almost from the beginning. I think I loved you way back when you stayed with me.”

“Saved my life.”

“You're a strong man. You saved your own life.”

“You surely helped.”

His big shaft throbbed inside her as they stood talking a bit and stroking each other. They had come back together and it felt wonderful. She didn't really want to talk, just to feel these gorgeous feelings that swept her, but she had to tell him. “I just couldn't believe you really love me.”

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yes, somehow I do. It's a miracle, I think.”

“No miracle, just my pigheadedness in not letting myself feel what I felt. God, Stevie, I've been so afraid that you'd leave me if I loved you. I've been a consummate coward.”

“We all have our fears.”

“But we face them if we're wise.”

His penis went deeper then and she moaned and clutched him closer as he backed her to the desk with her bare feet on top of his. “You're something else,” he whispered.

“No, that's you.”

They were silent then, exploring each other's bodies as if they'd never made love before. She wrapped her long legs around him and pressed his back with her feet. Agile, enraptured, she ran her toes along his lower back and nibbled on his ear. Her movements drove him crazy. Their baby was demanding its due, that it be born in love and passion, she thought.

She took his face in her hands and stroked it gently as he simply looked at her with half-closed eyes. He had cheated himself all this time of loving her, of sharing truly explosive wonders not to be missed. Her face was lovely in its trance, and his heart nearly burst with all the love he felt. Yes, he had cheated himself all that time. But now he was home and he intended to stay there forever.

“The backside of you is beautiful, too,” he murmured after a while. “Let's go there.”

He turned her over and caught a glimpse of them in the mirror. He grinned and licked his lips. So close to heaven. So dear to his soul. Sliding into her, he felt the intense heat of her body and knew she was what he wanted most of all. He stroked her back as he moved inside her, kissed her back and the tops of her buns. What he felt then was like nothing he had ever felt before, even with her.

She turned a bit. “I'm loving this,” she told him breathlessly. “Please give me more.”

He laughed then. “All you want, baby. I'll always give you whatever you tell me you want.”

His shaft was bone-hard, jerking inside her and he wanted this never to end, but the feelings were too strong and they were too on edge. She suddenly squeezed him hard with her inner walls and his hard driving thrusts brought her to glory. Ocean-like tides swept through her and she found herself in the grip of passion that rocked her repeatedly, then slowed to leave her limp and satisfied beyond the telling as she cried his name.

And hearing her, Damien groaned. Her movements and her tender gripping held him in thrall. With her he owned his world as his seed gathered and poured into her waiting body. Then he stood still, letting his love wash over them both. They were blessed and they were whole and nothing and no one would ever come between them again.