Part 25 (2/2)
”Of course not.” The doctor picked up his bag and slipped out of the room.
Heath went with him.
After they had both gone, Ryan beckoned me with a finger, and I leaned close. ”He's not right for you, Diana.”
”What are you talking about?”
”You're from the world of the arts.” He winced in pain. ”You're creative. He's a fixer. That's what you called him, remember?”
”You said he was a good guy.”
”But not for you.”
I stroked his face. ”Don't worry. I like men who have a way with words.”
”Yeah. But how many words?”
Heath's voice cut through the room. ”The ambulance is here.”
Making a face at Ryan, I reached over and turned off the train.
Heath and I watched the ambulance leave with Ryan, and the doctor followed in his white Bentley. Then we locked the house and went down to the beach.
Not talking, we stood feeling the cold wind on our faces. The houses overlooking the ocean were dark. My neighbors were away or sleeping; secure their multi-alarm systems would keep them safe. I looked toward my house. In the dim moonlight I could see that Kiki, the majordomo of Malibu, had found someone to board up the shattered gla.s.s doors. And now my house, my home, my tiny oasis appeared as abandoned and as dilapidated as Parson's movie theater.
A bone-deep sorrow flooded me, and I didn't want to go home. I wanted to run away, putting as much distance as I could between myself and the dead and the wounded in my life.
”You must be tired,” Heath said.
”Yes. Also hyper.”
”You're running on adrenalin. I could use a drink. You wouldn't want to offer me one, would you?”
”What do you really want?” I confronted him, clasping my arms around myself against the cold.
”You want an honest answer, or one of my very believable lies?” The wind blew his hair back from his high forehead and he hunched his shoulders.
”Honesty would be refres.h.i.+ng.”
He thought a moment, then said ”I want to f.u.c.k your brains out.”
I could feel his dark eyes moving over me, and my body responding as if his hands were on my flesh.
”I don't have any brains left.”
”Then another part of your anatomy... .”
I laughed.
”That was nice.”
”What?”
”Your laughter. I'm not a total cretin. We could have dinner before we ...”
I turned away and started walking toward my house.
”Is that a 'yes,' a 'no,' or a 'maybe' to any of the above?” he yelled after me.
”I'll fix you a drink and dinner. Then we'll see,” I shouted back.
I still didn't know what to make of him, but I did know Heath could help me run away from my ghosts. At least for one night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE.
My house smelled of damp raw wood. The TV chattered from the kitchen-Kiki's guys must've left it on for me. My boarded-up living room looked dark even with the lamps turned on. Heath peered at the only objects that s.h.i.+ned with any life-Colin's Oscars and the nameplate on my mother's urn.
”Would you like to hold one of Colin's Oscars? Most people do.”
”No.” He turned his bruised chin toward me. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw line. ”I want to hold what's real and present.” He took my hand and I felt a wonderful surge of pa.s.sion rush through me. Was that all it took? Hands touching? How Jane Austen of me. It had been a long time since I felt this kind of desire.
I pulled away. He followed me into the kitchen.
I opened the cupboard near the sink. ”Booze and red wine.” I spoke over the TV noise.
He picked up the remote and clicked it off. ”If you're leaving the TV on so a prowler will think you're home, it won't fool him.”
”I leave it on because I'm alone. The white wine is in the fridge.”
He leaned against the wall. ”You don't strike me as a woman who'd be afraid to be alone.”
”I'm not afraid. But the silence wears on me.” I pushed my hair back from my face.
He nodded, and by his expression I knew he understood. Then he rubbed his hands together and announced ”I'm hungry. Are you?”
”Starving.”
He opened my freezer. This was a man who could make himself at home. He took out one the many frozen meals I'd just bought. ”Lean Cuisine? Isn't that an oxymoron?” He tossed the frozen box back into the freezer and opened the fridge. ”You got eggs.” He took out the carton and peered in. ”Four eggs. It's a start.”
Smiling, I thought of how talkative men become when they're trying to seduce you. Even the strong silent ones.
”I want you to know that I'm not usually attracted to very beautiful women,” he announced.
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