Topaz Heat (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series) (6 page)

She ripped it out of his hands and stood. “It was all I had.”

“It never occurred to you to call security?”

Sarah’s cheeks flushed bright red. She waved her hand as if to dismiss his last statement. “Let me see it,” she said, moving behind him.

He jerked to his feet. “No thank you. Don’t touch it.”

“Don’t be such a baby. Let me see.”

He held a hand up to ward her off. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

“I promise not to hurt you, Derrick. I won’t even touch it.” She put her hands on her hips. “I
am
a nurse, you know.”

She almost withdrew the offer. But then he glared at her before moving to one of the oversized chairs, sitting sideways so she could see his back. The space across his shoulders was already starting to purple with a bruise, and it looked like something had caught the skin and ripped it. He had a gash about three inches long diagonally across his right shoulder. “Ouch, Derrick. Sorry about that.”

Over his left shoulder, just shy of the bruise, was a tattoo of a dragon, done in brilliant colors – turquoise, fuchsia, purple, bright green. She was surprised it was there; intrigued even. He had done everything to get rid of his past and she wondered why he kept the tattoo. Before she realized it, her fingers hovered above it, about to touch it.

He eyed her over his shoulder and glared at her. She bit her lip and redirected her fingers to gingerly touch the bruise. “You’ll want to put some ice on it and you should let me clean and dress the cut.”

She turned to leave. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She was halfway down the hallway before she answered him. “I’ll be right back.” Moving quickly, she went to the master bathroom and pulled open the medicine cabinet, finding the supplies she needed. She slipped the roll of tape and the package of bandages into her scrubs pocket, then pulled a washcloth out of the linen closet and dampened it beneath the faucet.

When she returned to the front room, he stared suspiciously at the brown bottle in her hand. “What’s that?”

“Hydrogen peroxide.”

“Uh huh. And what do you think you’re going to do with it?”

With a sigh, she poured some on the cloth and stepped closer. “I’m going to clean the cut.”

“What happened to you not touching it?” He hissed the breath between his teeth and cringed away as the cloth came in contact with his skin. “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Good Lord, Derrick, quit being such a baby.”

He clenched his teeth and swallowed a retort. Then he felt her warm breath gently blowing on the wound. He imagined her puckered lips as her breath caressed his fevered skin.

“There. Is that better?”

“It’s great. Thank you.”

He heard her moving behind him, heard the sound of the cap going back on the bottle. He felt her fingers graze his skin as she placed a bandage over the cut and taped it to his skin. He tried, desperately, not to react to her touch in any way, to pretend she was some platonic stranger tending his wound. “You need to ice it. I’ll go get some.”

While she was gone, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeking some inner steadiness. Why was she here? She quickly returned and gently set a plastic bag filled with ice across his shoulders, then perched herself on the couch that angled with the chair so that she faced him.

“You never answered my question,” he said, staring at her with those brown eyes that always made her feel uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”

“They’re painting my brownstone today and tomorrow. My furniture is under sheets in the middle of the rooms. Robin didn’t mention you were going to be here.” She looked down at her shoes. “I’m really sorry, Derrick.”

“I guess I forgot to tell her where I was staying. I thought Tony might’ve let her know.” He reached behind him and shifted the bag of ice. “Didn’t you see my car? You’d have had to park next to it in the parking garage.”

“I walked.”

His eyes narrowed. “From where?”

She gestured at her pastel pink pants, the matching top, and the white jacket with the pastel slashes of color. “Hello? From the hospital.”

“Are you out of your mind?” She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he cut her off. “That’s easily four or five blocks. Downtown. On a Friday night.”

“It’s not like the streets were deserted, Derrick.”

“What possessed you to walk?”

She bared her teeth. “It might have something to do with the fact that my car wouldn’t start.”

“Why didn’t you call someone?”

She’d had enough. She felt sorry that she’d whacked him with her umbrella, but the truth was she really couldn’t stand the man and never really had enjoyed his presence. “I’ve been an adult for a long time, Derrick, and I don’t answer to anyone, most especially you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a really long day and I’m going to bed.”

“Sarah …”

She stood. “No. I’m done. Good night.”

As she brushed by him, his hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her forearm. She froze, stared down at him, waiting. “I apologize,” he offered with his most velvet voice.

“I’m not going to fall for the smooth charm, Derrick. Now let me go. I’m tired.”

His jaw clenched as he released her. When he heard the click of her bedroom door shutting, he ripped the ice pack off his back and threw it across the room. He turned and carefully leaned backward until his back touched the chair. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.

Six years later. Six years and he was still completely in love with her.

He’d hoped it had been a crush, kind of like what he had for Robin, even a touch for Maxine. The sisters had charmed him the second he laid eyes on them, and he loved them for their beauty and their love of life. But it was more – much more – with Sarah.

And she couldn’t stand him.

She would never look at him and see anything but the teenager in the ripped leather jacket with the “I dare you” scowl. He’d changed, though, in every way he possibly could. He had cleaned his clothes, cleaned his act, found Christ and followed God. Like his water baptism cleansed his soul and made him a new person, he shed his past and created a new person. It didn’t matter. She still looked down her perky little befreckled nose at him.

He rubbed his face with his hands and surged to his feet. He thought about her traipsing through the heart of the city alone at this hour with only a purse and an umbrella and thought about all the terrible things that could have been waiting for her during that five block walk. He whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for God’s protection over her in those early morning hours, and retired to his own bedroom, sorry that their reunion had not gone well at all.

Any secret, unacknowledged hope he had of winning her over with a smoothly executed reunion meeting was now shed forever.

SARAH
got out of the shower, still angry. Seething, really. She ripped a towel off its holder and wrapped up in it, unlocking the bathroom door and walking into her old bedroom.

No one could make her as angry as Derrick DiNunzio. After almost any contact with him, she found herself grinding her teeth in frustration or anger, though she had absolutely no idea why.

At first she thought it was because of the neighborhood he came from, because of the past he carried with him. But Tony had a similar background, and she loved the man. So she knew it wasn’t that.

For a while, she thought it was the way he stared at her with those eyes; a lazy, sultry stare that made her think of steamy southern summers. It was a look that peeled away her glasses and shook out her hair and blanketed her with warmth. That look made her uncomfortable until she wanted to just squirm. But he didn’t always look at her like that; it was actually rare that she caught him doing it.

She thought maybe it was because he was using Tony as his step up from the street life. He had housing, clothes, food, education, all because someone else was paying for it. But then, so did she, even if the someone else were her parents and her sister, then her sister’s husband. That would have been rather hypocritical, if accepting generosity born of love made her angry with him. And, she had to admit, he wasn’t ungrateful. He worked hard – harder than anyone she’d ever known.

She finally settled on the fact that she just plain didn’t like him. She was allowed to simply not like someone, even a brother in Christ. Right? And after six years, if the sight of him still made her teeth clench in anger, then obviously that must be what it was about.

Sarah threw a long shirt over her head, glad she still kept some clothes here, and ripped the covers of the bed down. She listened, but couldn’t hear anything coming from the main room. Silly to even listen. The apartment was built so well that it would be hard to hear even the stereo with the door shut.

But he was out there, and she knew it. He was right out there with his jet black hair and his chocolate eyes and his colorful tattoos and his perfectly muscled chest and washboard stomach. And really! Why not put a shirt on for goodness sakes?

With a frustrated sigh she flipped off the light and crawled into bed. Her eyes burned and twitched. Her head spun with exhaustion but her brain simply would not shut down. Worry for her car, worry for her dad, sorrow at the relationship with her mother, and anger at Derrick all swirled in her thoughts.

She finally rolled out of bed and found herself on her knees, elbows in the mattress, praying to God in the same position she used when she was just a little girl.

AT
four-thirty in the morning, Sarah gave up trying to fall asleep. She slipped out of bed and dug through the dressers, finally locating a pair of running shoes and some shorts. A sweatshirt from her college days was on the top shelf of her closet, and she was just able to spring high enough to snag the sleeve and pull it down. She slipped it over the night shirt she wore and opened her bedroom door.

The apartment was dark, quiet. She guessed that Derrick was in one of the bedrooms.

Normally, she spent Saturdays on a long bike ride, but she didn’t have a bike here, so she settled for a jog.

She tried to do different forms of exercise all week. She had aerobics classes she frequented once or twice a week, she had her bike, and she loved to run. Then there were the days she ended up at Maxine’s house, working out with Barry, learning more about muscle toning in an afternoon than she could have over the course of a month in a gym. She enjoyed keeping fit, enjoyed taking care of her body, and it gave her the energy and strength she needed most days for her job or her father.

The tug on her heart when she thought about her dad was a common occurrence now, and barely made her pause as she leaned against the back of the couch to stretch her legs. He didn’t even know her. Three days ago, he didn’t know anything. It was getting worse, and all her training meant nothing, because she couldn’t help him. He was the love of her life and there was nothing she could do to help him.

Sarah was barely civil with her mother these days. Not only had she snuck around and had her father placed in a home, mom never went to see him. As far as her mother was concerned, he was already dead. It wasn’t easy, talking to a man you’ve loved most of your life, having him either stare at you blankly or ask your name. She knew that from experience. And last month when she finally convinced her mom to go visit him, even Sarah knew it had been a really bad day. He was in a rage and finally had to be sedated. But if she would have just gone more often, she would have known that it was just a bad day, and every once in a while, there was maybe a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Sarah believed that. She had to believe that.

She finished stretching and rubbed her face with her hands. She must be more tired than she thought to be thinking about this right now. Normally she was able to push it into the farthest corners of her mind.

Huffing out a breath, she pulled a band from her pocket and did her best to secure her hair back, while she waited for the elevator. Maybe she’d call her mom today and see if she would go with her this time.

Deciding that’s what she’d do, she stepped into the elevator and raised her arms to stretch her lower back.