Eleven weeks earlier
Passion flared in their kisses.
Despite his brain’s command to stop, Jake’s body responded naturally, lustfully. He shifted his hips in hopes Angela would not detect his swelling problem.
When she pulled away, he figured they had once again reached the end of the night. But her hand slid suggestively down the front of his shirt.
“Touch me like you wanted to the other night,” she whispered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I promise not to slap you this time,” she said, her face reddening.
He gently lowered her to a reclining position on the couch and lay down beside her. She gazed at him with anxious eyes as he snuggled against her rigid body. When his hand trailed down her neck and smoothed over her breasts, she shuddered and turned her gaze to the ceiling.
Keeping an eye on her hands in case she reneged on her promise, Jake gingerly caressed one breast. His thumb stroked the nipple through the silk of her blouse and bra. Angela gasped. He nuzzled her hair and slipped his leg across hers, no longer caring if she felt his erection pressing against her hip.
After several minutes, her body relaxed, and she once again turned her face to him. He kissed her lips, his tongue begging for admittance. Her lips parted, and he instantly thrust into the sweetness. He groaned with satisfaction at the symbolic action.
His hand fondled more aggressively, kneading her nipple between his thumb and index finger. She trembled under his touch. He rolled over so he lay partly on top of her. His hand left her breast and crept gently past the waistband of her shorts. Heat singed his fingers when they pressed against the fabric at her crotch.
Angela whimpered, jerked back to rigidness, and turned her face away.
He yanked his hand up and held it momentarily in mid-air, not knowing where it was safe to put it. Eventually, he grasped the back of the couch, pulled himself upright. He saw the pain and tears on Angela’s face. He tenderly brushed aside her hair and kissed her forehead before climbing off the couch. Dark eyes, blurred with disappointment, followed him.
After several deep breaths, he was able to speak. “We’re headed for a place where you’re unable to go. Before we get to a place where I’m unable to stop, I’m going to leave.”
“I’m sorry, Jake. I’m not—”
“I know.”
“I’m trying. I mean I want to—”
“I know that also. Good night, babe.”
Impatiently, he tugged at his pants to ease the pressure on the bulge beneath his fly. He felt her gaze as he trudged stiffly across the family room. Before he closed the front door, he glanced back and watched Angela bury her face in the couch cushions, hot tears of frustration bathing her cheeks.
* * *
Five days later, Angela flipped through the racks of clothes in the Nordstrom store at the Fashion Valley mall in San Diego. “I really don’t understand why you feel it’s necessary to buy me a new outfit for this thing in Malibu next week. I already own several beautiful cocktail dresses.”
“Cut me some slack. I’m trying to be generous, and I have something specific in mind,” Jake said, holding up a hot, strapless number covered with red sequins.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. “‘Something specific’ like the last ten dresses you’ve shown me?”
“Yeah, like the last ten you’ve turned your nose up at.” He stopped his search, scowling with frustration. “What’s the problem? Tell me the truth. Were they too…too sexy?”
She braced her hands on her hips. “No, the styles were fine. The color was wrong.”
“They were all red.”
Angela splayed her fingers in the air and shrugged. “Red is wrong.”
“Come again.”
She eased around the rack and sidled up to him. Brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, she pecked a kiss on his cheek. “I never wear red, silly. Haven’t you noticed?”
He frowned. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Since when?”
“For-ev-er.”
When she started to move away, he grasped her arm and pulled her back against him. “Why?”
She looked up into his puzzled face. “I don’t like red, that’s all.” Seeing the simple answer didn’t satisfy him, she continued. “Red looks garish…gaudy on me. I blame it on my extremely light blond hair. I don’t know. Red makes me feel…slutty, I guess.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen you in red,” he insisted stubbornly.
Smiling, she wagged her index finger in his face. “Jake, that’s a terrible faux pas. You have me confused with another woman.”
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “Would you try it once—for me?”
Her smile faded, and she glanced away.
“I guess that’s a no,” he said.
“It’s a matter of principle.”
“I make a mistake, and you make a principle out of it. Give me a break.”
“I’m sorry, Jake. Ma—” She bit her lower lip. Her dark chocolate eyes were liquid when she turned them on him. “My mother loves red. She forced me to wear it as a child. When I became a teenager, I refused to wear red anymore. Only one of my many independent acts that thoroughly annoyed her.”
“Jesus. Tears over a damn color. Women.” He planted a firm kiss on her lips, paused, and then deepened it. When he came up for air, he grasped her shoulders and set her away from him. He gulped. “Okay. Sounds like you’ve already got something at home you want to wear next Saturday. Let’s forget this shopping crap and head to my place to work on step six.”
She fluttered her lashes at him. “What is step six, Mr. Stone?”
He winked suggestively. “It’s a surprise.”
* * *
The hot, bubbling water swirled around Angela, relaxing her muscles and her mind. Closing her eyes, she leaned back on the plastic pillow of the Jacuzzi seat and stretched her legs out in front of her. God, she loved Jake’s spa. When they used the Jacuzzi at night, he always turned off the security and landscape lighting and lit a dozen candles. Conversation during these interludes was sparse and quiet. Tonight her favorite Celine Dion CD played on the outdoor stereo.
Jake’s romantic streak was only one of his traits that had surprised her. She smiled. He’d surely cringe if he knew she considered him amazingly tender. For someone who had originally portrayed the stereotypical slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am player, Jake Stone was far more sensitive and considerate than she would have ever imagined. The patience he showed, although occasionally stretched, in her slow journey through sexual re-discovery was exemplary.
Tightness gripped her chest; her eyes stung. Her feelings for Jake after five weeks of dating were too strong. When he did leave—and he would—it was going to hurt. Badly. She swallowed hard. Enjoy this while it lasts, stupid.
Movement on the opposite side of the spa roused her, and she lazily opened her eyes to see what Jake was doing. Something floated on the churning water beside him. At first, she couldn’t distinguish what it was. Squinting, she gradually identified his swim trunks. Her gaze shot to his face. His expression, lit only by the candlelight and moonlight, made her breath catch.
She stiffened and straightened in her seat. “What’re you doing?” she asked, unable to stop peering into the dark water directly in front of him.
“Step six: getting naked. You should try it.” He chuckled. “If you like, I’ll turn on the underwater light so you can see the part of my body you’re searching for.”
“Good God, no.” She couldn’t control the note of panic in her voice.
“Easy, now, easy.”
He started to come to her, but she held up both hands, palms out. “Don’t, Jake.”
He eased back onto the seat, concern written on his face. “Listen to me, Angela. You’re doing great. You’re ready for this next step. It’s time to get comfortable with being naked.” He paused. “Trust me, please.”
“I…I trust you.”
“Do you, really? Do you know how long I agonized over how to make this step as easy as possible for you? I’m not asking you to stand naked face to face with me. I’m not asking you to lie naked in bed beside me. The water and the darkness should be physical and psychological buffers to help you.”
Their eyes locked. Long, tense moments passed.
“Okay,” she whispered, “but don’t touch me. Understand?”
He nodded. “Take your time. Don’t focus on me. Focus on how wonderful the water feels. How liberating—”
“Close your eyes.”
“Huh?”
“Close your eyes. I’m not putting on a show.”
“All right.”
Once his eyes were shut, Angela drew a deep breath. Her fingers fumbled with the straps tied at her nape. She slid farther down into the water. Reaching behind her back, she unfastened the clasp. The bikini top bobbed among the bubbles. She shivered despite the one-hundred-degree water jetting around her.
“Need my help?”
“Jake!”
“Just kidding. Relax.”
“I’m trying.”
“Can I open my eyes?”
“No.”
“Are you done?”
“No.”
“Hurry up. I need to get out and take a leak.”
“Jake.”
“God, Angela, I’m joking.”
“Just shut up.”
When she was sure his eyes were still closed, she slipped the bikini bottom down and off. Slowly, the swimsuit drifted away, floating between them teasingly.
“Okay,” she said.
Jake’s gaze settled immediately on the two pieces of colorful fabric swirling in the turbulent water. Then his eyes rose to meet hers in the candlelight. Lust flared dangerously in the darkening gray depths. His expression was strained, controlled.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess. You?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Can you see—”
“No,” he said roughly. “But my imagination’s going wild.”
She giggled, and then musical laughter flowed freely.
Jake’s jaw dropped at her reaction. A moment later, his head fell back, and he roared with laughter, too.
Tension evaporated with the steam from the spa.
* * *
The tiny bell above the front door jingled frantically when Jake barged into the Heavenly Interiors reception area four days later.
“I’ll be right there,” a voice called from the workroom at the rear of the shop. Stella Jenkins appeared a few moments later. “Oh, hello, Jake. How are you?”
“Good. Where’s Angela?” he asked. “I’ve been trying to reach her all day.”
“Uh, it’s been a hectic one. First, we had an urgent problem with the Clarksons’ carpet that was supposed to be installed this morning. Then the award luncheon ran late. Angela didn’t even have time to swing by the office to check on the Clarkson situation before she rushed off to her doctor’s appointment.”
He frowned. “Award luncheon? Doctor’s appointment?”
“Uh oh. I thought you knew.” Stella’s eyes widened, and she bit her lower lip. “Angela should be back any minute. Make yourself comfortable.” She turned on her heels and escaped down the hallway.
Jake lowered himself into a chair. After a couple of minutes, he stood and paced, his hands jammed in his pockets. Why was he so anxious? He’d simply been unable to contact Angela for a day. For Christ’s sake, he wasn’t the woman’s keeper. Or was he?
Since his last conversation with the Contractor, he’d felt the need to be constantly aware of Angela’s schedule and whereabouts, subtly keeping tabs on her. Was he subconsciously afraid the Contractor had hired another assassin to complete the contract? Wouldn’t the Contractor have notified him that the contract was no longer his?
He rubbed a hand across his furrowed forehead. Shit. If there was no honor among thieves, there definitely was none among killers. Who the hell could predict anything about the Contractor’s actions?
He heard the rear door of the shop slam shut. Then Angela’s voice drifted down the hall.
He was leaning against her office doorjamb before she walked out of the workroom. His apprehension mushroomed when he spied the tense, strained expression on her pale face.
“Damn, you look like you’ve had a helluva day,” he said and embraced her.
“It’s been a roller coaster, that’s for sure. I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls.”
“I was getting worried.”
She pulled out of his arms and headed into her office. “Good grief, you’re such a mother hen lately.” Picking up a stack of phone messages, she said without looking at him, “I wasn’t expecting you, Jake. I’m awfully busy and tired.”
“Yeah, I imagine an award luncheon and doctor’s appointment in the same day would be tiring.”
She raised a questioning gaze to his. He closed the office door before responding.
“Stella. Obviously, she thought you’d told me. How silly of her.” His sarcasm crackled like static. “So, now, would you like to tell me about your day?”
Angela slapped the messages on the desk and dropped into her leather chair. She tunneled her fingers through her hair and blew out a long breath. “Why are you making me feel like a truant child?”
“Sorry. Didn’t realize I was. How was the luncheon?”
She smiled wearily. “It was the high point of the roller coaster. I was honored, but embarrassed, to receive such praise and recognition.”
“You were the award recipient?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “I thought about inviting you as my guest, but I figured you’d be bored.”
“Thanks for considering my social limitations.”
“Please. I’m too tired for your taunting barbs.”
He bit back a sharp retort and smiled instead. “Truce. What was the award for?”
“A few months ago, a local charitable organization purchased a run-down house in Coronado to use as a shelter for rape and domestic violence victims. I redecorated it pro bono. They were thrilled with my designs. What supplies my generous vendors didn’t donate, I bought myself. I must say, it’s one of the most satisfying projects I’ve ever done. Meeting some of the women who are now living in the shelter was the best part of the luncheon.” Her eyes glistened.
Jake studied her. “Congratulations. That’s a wonderful accomplishment. I would’ve been proud to be there with you, Angela, not bored.”
“Thanks. Now I need to wrap up some loose ends around here,” she said, reaching for the phone messages.
His hand landed firmly on the slips of paper. “Not so fast. Why did you go to the doctor?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Ouch. Who’s launching barbs now?”
She exhaled. “This is not the right time or place to discuss it.”
He tamped down his irritation. “All right. I’ll make you a deal. You look beat, but I know you wouldn’t appreciate me forcibly removing you from the shop. While you take care of those loose ends, I’ll grab Chinese takeout and meet you at your place in thirty minutes. If you’re not there on time, I’m coming back to get you. And I promise, you won’t like the way I haul you out of here.”
“Wait a—”
He held up a hand to silence her. “Thirty minutes. Starting now.”
* * *
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your doctor’s appointment,” Jake said as he scraped the remaining cashew chicken from the small, white container. “I just wanted to get some food and wine into you before I brought it up again. You look better than you did at the shop.”
“I feel a little better. Thanks for dinner and for forcing me to come home.”
Angela refilled both wine goblets with chardonnay and slouched down in the chair with hers. She closed her eyes and wished Jake wasn’t there. Damn. Why did Stella have to blab about my day?
“Do I have to pry it out of you one question at a time or will you just enlighten me?”
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it deserves. It was a simple visit to the doctor. I do have a right to some privacy, you know.”
He glared at her. “Okay. Question one: what kind of doctor?”
Without answering, she stood up and marched into the family room.
Before she could sit down, Jake caught her arm. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? I’m concerned, and you’re treating me like shit,” he said. His grim expression softened, hurt reflected in his eyes. “Damn, babe, don’t shut me out. I’m worried about you.”
“All right. I’m sorry for being bitchy.” She feathered a kiss across his lips and then drew him to the couch with her. While gathering her thoughts, she rested against him, partly for his strength but mostly so he couldn’t see her face.
“I went to see my shrink, the one who treated me for two years after the rape.” She waited for him to interrupt with a question, but he didn’t. “I’ve been having nightmares about four times a week since we began the twelve-step recovery program. Until recently, I couldn’t remember anything when I woke up. Now I know it’s the same nightmare each time.”
“Is the nightmare about what we’ve been doing? You know, the sexual recovery stuff?”
“No, although the doctor thinks that might’ve been the spark that started it.”
“I’m sorry, Angela. So then, what’s it about?” When she hesitated, he angled his head to look into her face. He frowned. “Oh, hell. It’s about the rape, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whispered and shuddered.
His arms tightened around her. “Talk to me.”
She gulped. “I’m tied down on my bed. There’s a man on top of me…raping me. He’s only a shadowy figure—no details, no face. I can feel him hurting me. I can smell the sweat, the semen. There’s someone else in the room. I can’t actually see him, just a vague shape, but he’s getting closer and closer. He climbs on me…does disgusting things. And something happens. It’s like an explosion or fireworks. Then everything goes black, and I wake up.”
“Jesus Christ. You think there were two men?”
“I don’t know. My nightmare suggests that. But as far as I remember, the cops never found more than one man’s DNA and no one’s fingerprints except mine and my boyfriend’s.”
“Maybe the ‘vague shape’ represents something intangible—like death. You could’ve been afraid the guy was going to kill you.”
“My shrink speculated on a similar theory. She’s convinced there was some especially traumatic factor that triggered the amnesia, and now, this nightmare.”
“Then it’s amazing you’ve been able to recover at all.”
“Thanks, Jake. There have been so many times over the past four years when I thought I’d go crazy. Why can’t I move on, heal, be normal again? It’s eroded my confidence, caused unbearable frustration. A million times, I’ve asked why. I don’t know how much more I can stand.”
Lifting her chin, he searched her eyes. “Do you want to stop the recovery program?”
“Oh God, no. This might be my last—very last—chance.”