The Doctor + Four

At last they switched off the burners beneath the crisp potatoes and appetizing omelet. Sonya could almost taste the spicy aromas as they carried large servings to the table.

She sampled the potatoes first. “This is fabulous. You just woke up my taste buds.”

He’d started with her creation. “Your eggs beat anything at Tacos and Burgers, I guarantee you.” Indicating the plate, he added, “Folding an omelet this neatly is an art form.”

“I learned from my parents. They used to run a restaurant.” She lifted another large forkful of potatoes.

“Glad you’re not a picky eater.”

“Surgery always works up an appetite.” Physical activity didn’t stimulate her hunger nearly as much as the intense mental effort.

“I like a woman with passion.” He dug in, leaving the double entendre hanging in midair.

She decided not to touch it. Besides, she was eager to hear more about his world. “How long have you worked at the newspaper?”

“Six years, since my mother’s accident. She was the editor. I’m the only other remaining journalist in the family, so I replaced her.”

“The only other remaining journalist?” The phrase struck her as odd.

“My father used to edit the paper. He died while I was in prison.” For an instant, Barry grew cold and distant, a glimpse of an alternate self. The loss must have hit him hard. Then he shrugged. “I was lucky to find a job in my field.”

“You’re both a reporter and an editor?”

A nod. “It’s great not having anyone with veto power over what I write. Leaves me free to needle public officials and deflate the arrogant, although they show an incredible talent for reinflating.”

She could tell he enjoyed the subject. “You’re lucky to have found your niche.”

“I can’t complain.” Upon reflection, he amended, “Yes, I can. My dream was to establish myself as an international correspondent or an investigative reporter. I still fantasize about setting the world on fire—not that it’s likely to happen.”

“What’s stopping you?”

The hardness returned. “Lack of a portfolio, and a little something called a criminal record.”

“You don’t have to be an angel to work as a foreign correspondent.” She recalled movie images of seedy types in dinner jackets, lounging in tropical bars. Barry would look incredibly sexy in an outfit like that. A woman might be tempted to seduce him out of it.

“Anyone can call himself a reporter and post stories on the Internet,” came the reply, mercifully short-circuiting her thoughts. “I’m both more practical and more egotistical, which means I’d like a real news organization behind me, along with a paycheck. So far I haven’t come close to getting hired.”

“You should go for it anyway.” Sonya had no right to give advice, she supposed. “Sorry. I’m sure you’ve reviewed all the angles.”

“Yes. Besides, I’ve got a few things to prove down home.” Scooting away from the table, he transferred the dishes to the counter.

Meal over. Time to go.

She didn’t want him to. Especially not when he’d just turned stiff and remote again. He deserved a happier ending to the evening.

“In my book, you’re a hero,” she told Barry. “Sorry I forgot to mention that earlier.”

“Glad we both lived to tell the tale.” In the sink, he filled the pans with water. “These should soak.”

“Thanks.”

Watchfulness, ruefulness, resignation—she read those emotions on his face as he removed the apron and picked up his jacket. He’d earned so much more, and suddenly she yearned to share the sense of trust and closeness he inspired. Even if it only lasted for one night.

“Don’t go.” Her words stilled his movements.

“Be careful what you ask for.” He waited. I’ll follow your lead.

Sonya rose. “For once in our lives, let’s do what we want. No strings and no regrets.” In case that wasn’t clear enough, she added, “Make love to me.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he answered, and drew Sonya into the powerful, hungry embrace she’d been longing for all evening.

Chapter Four

Barry’s experiences with women had been limited. Brief encounters after his release from prison as he’d traveled from one short-term job to another, then two affairs guaranteed from the start to lead nowhere.

He’d never learned how to tantalize and seduce. But Sonya apparently wasn’t in the mood for subtlety. When Barry caught her to him, her wildness thrilled him. Her tongue probed his mouth and her breasts thrust forward, the tips hardening.

Her intensity had drawn him from the moment they’d met, and during the course of the evening the attraction had deepened. Beyond her sensuous dark beauty, even beyond her compassion and determination, the unexpected quirks and the walled-off pain fascinated him.

At a level that was new to him, he simply needed her. But right now her physical delights drove anything else from his mind.

He couldn’t stop exploring the curve of her hip and the inward flare of her waist. And those liquid eyes! Barry stroked the tangled hair off her temples and savored the honesty in her gaze.

On tiptoe, she brushed another kiss across his mouth. Then she went to work on his shirt, undoing the buttons and smoothing her palm across his chest. The throbbing from his bruised ribs paled before the fire she stirred inside.

Some women might have fussed over the injury. Sonya merely slanted him a sympathetic smile before sliding both hands beneath his waistband.

Blissful agony swelled his groin. “Good grief, woman, do you realize what that does to me?”

“I’m hoping to find out.”

Barry raised her knit top to reveal the lacy curves of a bra. Grateful for front snaps, he opened it and bent to savor her breasts. She arched against the table for support.

He raised his head. “Let’s find a more comfortable place.”

“We might make it to the bedroom, if we’re lucky.” Catching his hand, she pulled him into the front room.

They barely made it to the first carpeted step. She simply folded and Barry eased on top, lips seeking hers, both tugging at each other’s clothing. The hardest part was removing her jeans at the ankles, where a stubborn pair of jogging shoes formed a roadblock.

From the slick, sweaty glow of their entwined legs to the flick of tongue on teeth, sensations brought Barry to the point of abandon. Enough of his brain still functioned for him to ask, “Are you on the pill?”

“No. Sorry.”

He fished for his wallet and extracted a condom he carried just in case. Sonya helped unroll it, teasing his erection until he nearly lost control. When she seized his hips and guided him inside, Barry closed his eyes and opened himself to a whole new world.

Glaciers split apart. Beneath his heated thrusts, green shoots broke through the ice as he and Sonya connected.

“It’s like flying,” she whispered.

Barry wished he were a poet so he could tell her how much this meant. “Off the rim of the earth,” was the best he could do.

She rode him from atop, skin exuding a hint of flowers. Joy spread into his marrow as the stairwell filled with her cries.

Their ardor spent, they pretzeled against the steps. As normal sensation returned, Barry discovered a cramp in one leg and a hard ridge digging into his spine.

“Where’s that bed?” he asked. “Or were you just putting me on?”

“I kind of like it here.” She kissed his shoulder. “After tonight, this place will hold some of my fondest memories.”

“What’s the medical term for a crick in one’s back?” he persisted.

“Musculoligamentous strain.”

When he laughed, a twinge shot through his ribs. Instinctively, Barry gave a jerk, and only quick action kept Sonya from skidding down to the floor.

He caught her arm. “Definitely time to stretch out.”

“I’m afraid so.” Ignoring the scattering of garments, she led him up. Splendid shape, Barry noted as he observed her derriere, and hoped he’d have occasion to make love to her again at leisure.

A queen-size bed awaited in a room exploding with vivid hues. Although the sky through the window remained blue-black, Barry imagined he could detect the dawn of a new day.

Perhaps he should postpone his flight to give them another few hours together, he reflected as they slid beneath the covers. They had a lot to talk about.

He couldn’t seem to keep his lids open, though. Utterly at peace for the first time in years, Barry curved around Sonya and fell asleep.

EVEN AFTER SHE OPENED HER LIDS, she wasn’t certain she’d been dreaming. It had seemed so real: the scream of metal, then searing pain. As she lay helpless on the pavement, Duke had loomed above, knife in hand. Two traumas merged into one terrifying scene.

Emerging from the nightmare, Sonya didn’t recognize her surroundings. Only gradually did she begin to make sense of the familiar outlines of her bedroom, eerie in the moon glow through the window.

A noise from the hallway alarmed her. Struggling to move, Sonya made the horrifying discovery that her muscles had locked in place.

Her brain recognized that she must be suffering a form of sleep paralysis, which had happened a few times before. In minutes, it would vanish.

She heard the whisper of footsteps across the carpet. Dear Lord, let this be a dream. But it didn’t feel like one.

Abruptly, a male shape reared above her. Battling the paralysis, Sonya groped for the bedside phone. The receiver clattered off its base and fell.

The bed dipped as the man sat. “Sonya?”

She thought she’d heard that voice before. “Who…?” Couldn’t finish.

“It’s me, Barry.” In the semidarkness, his silhouette loomed.

Duke, cursing as he stabbed at her. “Don’t…” Terror made the word stick in her throat.

“Bad dream?” His palm smoothed her forehead. Reassuring. Gentle. Yet her subconscious flashed a red alert.

This was Barry, not Duke, Sonya told herself. The man who’d come to her aid last night, and made love to her. Why was she still so frightened, as if her subconscious was trying to send a warning?

A fact surfaced. “You said…ex-con.”

He answered warily. “That’s right.”

“What…for?” She still found it hard to talk. Impossible to stir. She was almost as helpless as in her dream.

“You mean what did they convict me of?” Barry asked tightly. “Murder.”

Murder.

Who had he killed—a girlfriend? Despite his easygoing veneer, she’d seen the violence with which he’d attacked Duke. If Barry lost his temper, she could imagine his powerful hands throttling whoever infuriated him. Perhaps regretting it afterward, too late.

“Manslaughter, to be specific,” he went on. “I didn’t do it, but everyone says that, don’t they?”

He seemed to expect a reply. Perhaps absolution. Did he take all women for fools?

She’d had sex with the man. Yet what did she really know of him? He might have lied about being a reporter and invented the appealing tale of a sister and a family home.

Last night, Sonya had been too overwhelmed by events to think clearly. What a vulnerable position she’d put herself in, bringing a convicted killer into her home.

“Please leave.” Her voice trembled.

“What?”

“Get out!”

“You’re having a delayed reaction to what happened yesterday,” he said. “Sonya, you don’t mean this.”

She’d asked him to leave. And he’d refused.

Shaking off the sleep-drugged sensation at last, she tumbled out of bed and gripped her robe. Stiff-legged and awkward, she pulled it on as she ran. Smacked the edge of the door frame, ignored the painful ache in her hip and kept going.

“Hey! Wait!” Barry’s shout followed her down the stairs. Sonya staggered into the living room, snagged her purse and fled to the front porch.

She groped inside the bag. Where was her cell? Not in its accustomed slot. Had he swiped it while she’d slept?

At last she found it at the bottom. About to dial the police, she tried to phrase the complaint in her mind. Officer, I’ve been…

Foolish. Indiscreet. Stupid. She had no doubt Barry posed a threat, yet she could form no convincing accusation.

From inside the condo sounded masculine footsteps. Murder. How could she have put herself at his mercy?

Maybe she should keep running and scream until some neighbor offered aid. But as the cool morning air blew off the remnants of her dream state, the scent of jasmine drifted to Sonya. Along an adjacent boulevard, early morning traffic murmured. The world had become normal again. The sense of peril muted into uneasiness.

She should have expected a reaction like this. Violence and danger left their mark on the subconscious. She’d managed to suppress the trauma for a few hours, but it had breached her defenses in sleep.

Barry emerged, his clothes hanging in disarray as he regarded her grumpily. She skittered off the porch and drew the robe tighter. Gravel dug into her bare feet.

“What do you think I’m going to do, bite you?” he growled. “Come inside before you catch cold.” He noticed the phone. “Did you call the cops?”

She shook her head. Still shaken. Still not in full control.

He appeared to be listening. For a siren? Nothing stirred but a cat, yowling a few doors off. “Well, thanks for that, anyway,” he muttered. “Goodbye then.”

“You’re leaving?” She hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so readily.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

A moment ago she’d wanted nothing else. Now she began to fear she’d overreacted. Still, best to let him go. “Have…have a safe flight.” The mundane civility sounded absurd in her own ears.

“Just a minute. I left my camera in the kitchen.” He disappeared but returned quickly, holding the device in one hand. “Care to search me to make sure I didn’t steal anything?”

“I…I trust you.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” He regarded her with a mixture of anger and disappointment, then stalked away. Despite the breeze, Sonya stood observing until he rounded a corner and vanished from sight.

He hadn’t raged at her or shouted insults. He’d behaved quite decently, considering the circumstances. Had she misjudged him? She certainly had a poor history of gauging men’s characters.

Inside, her clothes still littered the carpet from last night, and the room carried the subtle tang of a man’s body along with leftover cooking odors. How long before the condo became entirely hers once more?

The whole situation struck Sonya as bizarre and inexplicable. She didn’t do things like this. Jump into bed with a stranger. Panic beyond reason.

No use trying to sleep in this agitated state. Instead, she went to the kitchen to brew coffee. Two pans sat soaking in the sink where Barry had left them.

They’d had fun cooking together and their lovemaking had been spectacular. If she hadn’t suffered that nightmare, maybe…No. This relationship had never had a future.

A convicted murderer. Just her luck.

As she fixed the coffee, one fact became clear: she’d drifted for too long since the engagement had ended. Unfulfilled urges had made her susceptible.

Well, her parents had taught her to learn from mistakes. At thirty-three, maybe she’d needed this wake-up call.

She remembered her insight at the hospital—that if she sought a family to love and cherish, she’d better make plans. No more trysts with strangers or fantasies about someday adopting. Time to set goals and go after them.

While pouring a mug of coffee, Sonya recalled Duke’s threats. He posed no immediate danger, but sooner or later he’d get out of jail. Her nightmare might yet materialize.

Besides, since her family members had scattered and most of her old friends had moved on, Fullerton was little more than a place to work. She yearned for an old-fashioned town where neighbors visited one another and friendships endured.

Sitting at the table, sipping the brew, she let her mind play over possibilities. She rejected the first one that came to mind—the newly built community in Arizona where her brother and sister lived. The flat desert landscape didn’t appeal to her.

Now that she was considering making a change, though, she began to recognize other advantages to moving. Away from Southern California’s sky-high real estate prices, she could afford a house. And once she settled in a community, she’d be ready to start searching for a child or a sibling group. Enough to fill up her home and her heart.

Perhaps one of her far-flung cousins, several of whom were nurses, knew of a suitable opening for an ob-gyn. Sonya had no illusions about the challenges involved in relocating, but the idea deserved exploration.

She’d keep an open mind to any place but Tallahassee. To stay as far away from Barry as possible, she decided to rule out the entire state of Florida.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.