9781618850676UnchainedMelodyHunter (12 page)

“Yoo-hoo,
Miss Ramsey—I know now where I’ve seen you before.” She was totally out of
breath by the time she joined them once more on the front porch of
Antoinette’s Leap
.

“And
where would that be, Mrs. Osborn?” Ethan was trying hard not to lose his
patience with the little woman.

“You,
Miss Ramsey are a writer. This isn’t the book you wrote, but seeing it on my
dresser, jarred my memory. I can’t remember your name, but I’ve looked at your
picture a thousand times.” She smiled up at Ethan, “Your lady friend is very
beautiful.”

Ethan’s
expression tightened imperceptibly. Mrs. Osborn paused to take a breath and then
pushed on. “I just finished one of your books. I blushed and I blushed.”

Ethan
turned slowly to look at her. “What type of books do you write, Lise?” Suddenly,
she wished she’d been up front with him about her career. She didn’t understand
what the problem was, but clearly Ethan had issues with romance novelists. Surely
it wasn’t the explicit content. As lusty as Ethan was, sensual writing wouldn’t
offend him. But she had hidden it from him and now she realized no good ever came
from deception. That thought put a huge damper on everything that had happened
so far. But how important could this be? Romance novels were a good thing, they
made people happy. Didn’t they?

There
was a definite change coming over Ethan’s face. It quickly went from a face
full of desire to one darkened by suspicion. Mrs. Osborn didn’t wait for
Annalise to answer. “Why don’t you know, Mr. Stewart? I can’t remember her pen
name, but Miss Ramsey is one of the foremost authors of erotic romantic
fiction.”

“Oh,
really?” His voice had taken on a slightly hard edge. “So you write erotic
romance novels, Lise?”

Again,
Mrs. Osborn jumped in and saved Annalise the trouble of answering for herself

“She
writes beautiful novels. The hero is always so strong and good. If I can find one
of your books down at the bookstore, would you autograph it for me?”

Ethan
stepped back and stood quietly, too quietly. The look in his eyes was
unmistakable. Suddenly, he was looking at her with distaste. The look so much
like the one Jeff Ramsey had given her that it caused her blood to run cold. What
had she done wrong? She answered the little lady, hoping she would soon leave. “Yes,
ma’am. I will be glad to autograph a book for you.”

With
that assurance, finally, the little woman went on her way—chattering excitedly
over meeting a real, live author. She turned to Ethan, dreading to face his
obvious disapproval. “Ethan, are you upset with me?”

“You
write erotic romance novels?” He looked so disappointed in her. Before she had
been worried about him wanting her too much; now the problem may be he didn’t
want her at all. Suddenly, Annalise felt lost. She shut her eyes. Maybe she
deserved his disdain. She had built a career using his image, his words, and
the detail of every time he had ever touched her. She hung her head. The last
thing she ever wanted to do was let him down. Now, it seemed as if she had.

“Yes,
I’ve written dozens. That’s how I’ve supported myself.”

“Do
you know what those books do, Annalise?” She swallowed hard; he had never
called her Annalise before.

“They
give women a form of companionship. They brighten their day, they fill
countless lonely hours. As for me, they gave me a way of preserving memories. I
don’t understand what you’re so upset about, Ethan?” Her voice broke. “Please
don’t be angry at me.”

His
face did not soften at her words. He was no longer reaching out for her, in
fact; she could feel him pushing her away. He never raised his voice, he
whispered, which seemed to make it so much worse. “Let me tell you what people
like you do. You don’t write fantasy, you create false expectations, you write
pipe-dreams, you make women unhappy with what they have. Women who could be
happily married—they read your drivel, compare their lives with your fairy-tale
shit and then they are no longer satisfied. Tell me, Annalise, what is your
pen-name?”

“Ann
Pace.” Her voice was very small.

“
You’re
Ann Pace? Well, isn’t this ironic. Ann Pace! Lise Evans! Annalise Ramsey! I
don’t know who you are. Where did you get the name Ann Pace, anyway?”

“Ann
from Annalise, Pace from Pace Bend where I spent time with you,” she answered
softly. Her calm tone and revealing information did nothing to pacify him,
however.

“Lise,
Francine tormented me with your words. She followed me around and crucified me
with your writing. You stripped me of my manhood. Nothing I did ever pleased
Francine, and she compared me over and over again to those damn men in your
books. You, Annalise Ramsey—Ann Pace—you made my life a living hell!” And then
he was gone.

Annalise
was ice cold, her heart cleaved in half. The rape hadn’t hurt this much. Jeff’s
revulsion hadn’t hurt this much. If Tiny hadn’t been crying at the door,
Annalise would just have walked off. Instead, she fumbled for the key. After
several tries, she got the key to turn in the lock. Without turning on the
light, she went inside and shut the door.

* * * *

Alex
was at the laptop paying bills when Ethan slammed the side door entering the
kitchen. He jerked back a dining room chair and sat down heavily on it. Alex
looked at him with a puzzled expression. He had been certain things were
looking up. Now he realized something was terribly wrong.

“What
happened, Ethan?”

Ethan
sat with his head in his hands, eyes staring blankly at the table. “Alex, everything
I thought I knew has turned out to be false. God! I just spent the last ten
minutes telling Lise how she ruined my life.” Alex looked at him like he had
two heads.

“I
have spent the last two years blaming an author of a sappy love story for my
feelings of inadequacy. I hated that author, Alex. I hated Ann Pace! And at the
same time, I have idealized the love I shared with Lise. Now I find that they
are one in the same.
Lise
is the damned romance novelist that ruined my marriage and convinced my wife I
was a lousy lay.”

“I
know.” Alex’s quite admission floored Ethan.

“What
did you say?” He stared at his brother in confusion.

“I
think there may be more to this than you realize, wait here.” Alex went to his
room and returned a few moments later with several books in his hand.

“Here,
look at these.”

“What
are you doing with those?”

“Remember
when you were about to throw them away, I rescued them.” Alex sort of chuckled.
“I was curious, I thumbed through them and the sex is pretty hot. Then I
flipped it over and I saw her picture.” Alex opened the back cover and there
was Lise, beautiful as ever, not quite smiling for the camera. “I recognized
her immediately from the photo in your wallet.”

Alex
laid down some of the hated novels. Ethan picked one up. The name of it was
The Godsend
by Ann Pace.

“Look
at the cover picture, Ethan.” Ethan looked at the drawing of a couple. The
woman was staring up at the man with adoration.
What?
Then he looked closer. The man looked like him.

“What
the hell?”

“That’s
you on the cover, Ethan. And you’re on the cover of this one and this one and
this one…” Alex laid the books out and Ethan picked them up staring at his
image. “Now open it and read the dedication. It’s the same in every book.”

Ethan
opened the book and turned to the dedication page. It simply read, “For Ethan -
My Hero - The only man I will ever love”.

Ethan
didn’t stop with one book; he looked at the dedication in the others. They were
all the same. He didn’t know what to think, he was so confused. “It really doesn’t
change anything, Alex.”

“What
do you mean, Ethan? This should change everything!” Sometimes, Alex thought his
brother was the most hard-headed man on the face of the earth.

“Okay,
so Ann Pace is Lise—not some man-hating monster—but that doesn’t change the
fact I wasn’t able to make my wife come in bed. She read these novels in order
to get off!”

“Francine
was jacking with you, Ethan. If I’m not sadly mistaken that’s you in those
books. The hero that Francine compared you to was you! And Francine knew it,
Ethan. When she read Lise’s beautiful words describing how you made her feel,
Francine decided to turn the tables and make you as miserable as she was.”

The
revelation hit him like a bolt of lightning. He looked up at Alex with
tear-filled eyes, “Oh, God. Alex, you don’t know what I’ve done! I just talked
to Lise like she was the lowest form of life. I never even spoke to Francine
like that, Alex. Besides, I still don’t know—maybe Francine was right. Maybe I
am a lousy lover.”

“How
was the sex with Lise, Ethan?” Ethan looked up at his brother with a warning in
his eyes. “Were you able to give Lise pleasure? Did she come for you?” Alex was
being crude, he knew, but he was desperately trying to get his point across.

“Shit,
Alex!” Ethan shouted. “Lise was young and inexperienced. She was a virgin, for
God’s sake. I don’t know if she would have known the difference between a good
lover and an inept one!”

Alex
blew his breath out loudly. “Here read some of this and then you will know. “ He
handed Ethan one of the romance novels. “Read what she had to say about your
lovemaking.” Ethan stood up, picked up a couple of the books and left.

Alex
glanced at his watch—eleven o’clock. He debated what to do. Ethan was
suffering. Finally, he stood. “Time to take the bull by the horns.”

* * * *

Annalise
lay curled up in a ball on the couch. She hadn’t been able to cry. Her mind
tried to make her heart see sense. Essentially she was in the same position she
had been before she came: she hadn’t had Ethan before and she didn’t have Ethan
now. Her heart said it was much, much worse than that. Before she had wonderful
memories of Ethan loving her, cherishing her; now she saw eyes that despised
her. There would be no more stories, because the dream had just died.

A
banging on her door caused Annalise to jump and Tiny to go crazy. The frenzied
barking of the little dog was probably waking the dead. “Hush, Tiny.” Annalise
walked to the door dreading the possibility of seeing Ethan. She needed an
opportunity to explain, but right now she was too upset to try.

She
opened the door. It wasn’t Ethan—it was his brother, Alex.

“Alex,
what a surprise, come in.” Annalise stepped back and allowed the big man to
enter.

Alex
looked at the woman standing in front of him. He understood why Ethan was so
hot for her. She was absolutely gorgeous, but at the moment she was pale and
lifeless. Damn Ethan. She stood there waiting for him to say something.

“I
need to talk to you.”

“Certainly,
please sit down.”

Alex
was here now, but this was going to be hard. “What’s going on between you and
my brother?”

Annalise
couldn’t believe her ears. “Is this really something we should be talking
about, Alex?”

“Look,
let me just lay it out for you. Ethan is hurting.”

His
admission certainly got
Annalise’s
attention. Ethan
wasn’t the only one who was hurting, but she still cared. “I know he’s hurting.
I never meant for him to know about the books, Alex. I never meant to even see
Ethan again. I am so sorry I came here, Alex. I will leave the first thing in
the morning.”

“No,
no, no. Leaving is the last thing you need to do. Let me try to explain. Francine
did a real number on him. They weren’t ever really happy and I think that was
mainly because of you.”

Annalise
didn’t know if she wanted to hear this or not. “So I hear.”

“Ethan
never got over you and Francine knew it. Wasn’t she a witness to most of your—uh,
time together?”

“She
was at the same OA camp.”

“Well,
she would have seen the two of you together. Then I think one day she stumbled onto
one of your books.”

“Ethan
told me she read my books. I think I even saw her at one of the ‘romance
writer’s meet the readers’ conventions. ”

“Well,
isn’t it pretty obvious? Ethan is all over those books. The covers are Ethan,
the dedication—and I’ve read some of it—isn’t that Ethan inside the books,
too?”

Annalise
didn’t admit to anything. She didn’t have to; it was written all over her face.

“The
real problem is how Francine reacted to the books. She started tormenting
Ethan.”

This
sounded familiar. Maybe now she could understand. Annalise looked up, concern
on her face. “Torment, how?”

“I
don’t know all of the details of my brother’s sex life and I don’t want to
know. But I do know this; she convinced Ethan he was a terrible lover. She told
him he didn’t arouse her. She said that the heroes in your books were better
lovers than he was; she said the only way she could get off was a vibrator and
a novel like one of yours. Francine convinced Ethan he was less than a real
man.”