Come Lie With Me (10 page)

He was different from every other man she knew. He was capable of loving; he was at once a laughing daredevil and a hard-hitting businessman. But most of all, he needed her. Other patients had needed her, but only as a therapist. Blake needed
her
, the woman she was, because only her personal strengths had enabled her to help him with her trained skills and knowledge. She couldn't remember anyone ever needing
her
before.

She cuddled him close to her, stunned by the slowly increasing warmth inside her that was gradually melting the frozen pain that had dominated her for so long. She wanted to weep some more, because she was both frightened and excited by her new freedom to touch and be touched. Her hand stroked his hair, her fingers lacing themselves in the silky waves, as his tears finally stopped and he lay sweetly, limply against her.

He lifted his head to look at her. He wasn't ashamed
of the tears that wet his face and glittered in his blue eyes. Very gently he rubbed his wet cheek against hers, a subtle caress that mingled their happiness as well as their tears.

Then he kissed her.

It was a slow, wondering kiss, a gentle touch that sought but didn't pursue, a delicate tasting of her lips that lacked any aggressive, masculine need. She quivered in his arms, her hands automatically moving to his shoulders to shove him away if he progressed beyond the still-guarded borders of intimacy that she could accept. But he didn't try to deepen the kiss. He raised his mouth and instead touched his nose to hers, rolling his head back and forth in a light, brushing movement.

After a long moment he drew back slightly and let his gaze roam over her face with a certain curiosity. Dione couldn't look away from his eyes, watching the irises expand until they had almost swallowed the blue. What was he thinking? What caused that sudden flash of desperation that startled her, the shadow that crossed his face? His eyes lingered on the soft, trembling fullness of her lips, then slowly lifted to meet her gaze and lock in place. They stared at each other, so close that she could see her reflection in his eyes and knew that he could see himself in hers.

“Your eyes are like melted gold,” he whispered. “Cat eyes. Do they shine in the dark? A man could get lost in them,” he said, his voice suddenly rough.

Dione swallowed; her heart seemed to be rising to stick in her throat. Her hands were still on his shoulders; beneath the warmth of his flesh she could feel the flexing of his muscles as he levered himself up on his elbows, the weight of his body still pressed into hers from the waist down. She shivered, faintly alarmed by their
posture, but too bemused by the emotional intimacy quivering between them to push him away.

“You're the loveliest thing I've ever seen,” he murmured. “As exotic as Salome, as graceful as a cat, as simple as the wind…and so damned mysterious. What goes on behind those cat eyes? What are you thinking?”

She couldn't answer; instead she shook her head blindly as fresh tears made her eyes glitter. He sucked in his breath, then kissed her again, this time parting her lips and slowly penetrating her mouth with his tongue, giving her the time to decide if she would accept the caress. She was trembling in his arms, afraid to let herself be tempted by the gentle touch, yet she
was
tempted, terribly so. Her tongue moved hesitantly and touched his, withdrew, returned for another shy taste, and finally lingered. He tasted marvelous.

He deepened the kiss, exploring the ridges of her teeth, the softness of her mouth. Dione lay quietly beneath him, unaware of the growing force of his passion until suddenly his mouth turned hard and demanding, asking for more than she could give, reminding her abruptly and with chilling clarity how it had been with Scott—

The black pit of her nightmares loomed before her, and she squirmed under him, but he didn't feel the sudden tension in her body. His hands grasped her with the roughness of desire, and the last thread holding her control snapped.

She tore her mouth from his with a raw cry. “No!” she shrieked, sudden fear giving her strength. She shoved him away with all the considerable power of her arms and legs, and he rolled across the floor, bumping into the wheelchair and sending it flying across the room.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and seared her with a scathing, furious look. “Don't bother screaming,” he snapped bitterly. “It's a cinch that nothing's going to happen.”

“You can bet on it!” she snapped in return, scrambling to her feet and straightening her blouse and shorts, which had somehow become twisted. “I'm a therapist, not a…a convenience!”

“Your professional integrity is safe,” he muttered. “From me, at any rate. You might want to try someone like Richard if you're really serious with your kisses, though I warn you right now, all of his parts are in working order and he might not be so easy to throw off!”

It was evident that his ego had been bruised, because she'd tossed him off so easily; he hadn't even noticed the wild expression that had touched her face. She gave silent thanks, then calmly retrieved the wheelchair and placed it beside him. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she said curtly. “We have work to do.”

“Sure, lady,” he snarled. “Anything you say. You're the therapist.”

He pushed himself so hard for the rest of the day that Dione had to lose her temper with him that afternoon to make him stop. He was in the foulest mood she'd ever seen him in, surly and bleak. Even Serena was unable to coax him into a better mood that night over dinner, and he excused himself shortly afterward, uttering that he was tired and going to bed.

Serena's brows lifted, but she didn't protest. Richard got to his feet and said, “Let's go into the study for a minute, Blake. There are some things that I need to talk over with you; it won't take long.”

Blake nodded briefly, and the two men left the room.
Silence fell between Dione and Serena, who had never had much to say to each other.

Serena was apparently engrossed with the strappy white sandal she was dangling from her toes. Without looking up from it, she asked casually, “What's wrong with Blake tonight? He's like a hornet.”

Dione shrugged. She wasn't about to tell Serena about the kisses that day, or the reason for Blake's ill humor. Instead she passed along the encouraging news that Blake, for some reason, hadn't. “He stood today. I don't know why he's so grouchy; he should be on top of the world.”

Serena's eyes lighted up, and her pretty face glowed. “He stood?” she cried, dropping the sandal to the floor and sitting upright. “He actually stood?”

“He had his weight on his legs, yes, and he could feel it,” Dione clarified.

“But that's wonderful! Why didn't he tell me?”

Again Dione shrugged.

Serena made a rueful face. “I know; you think I make too much of a fuss over him. I do; I admit it. I…I'm sorry for my attitude when you first came. I didn't think you'd be able to help him, and I didn't want him to get his hopes up, only to be disappointed again. But even if he doesn't walk again, I can see that therapy has been good for him. He's gained weight; he's looking so healthy again.”

Surprised by the apology, Dione didn't know what to say beyond the conventional disclaimer, “That's all right.”

“No, it isn't all right. Richard's barely speaking to me, and I can't say that I blame him. I've treated him like the invisible man for the two years since Blake had the accident. God knows how he's been as patient as
he has. But now I can't get close to him again, and it's all my fault. Still, I'm irrational where Blake's concerned. He's my security, my home base.”

“Perhaps Richard wants that distinction,” Dione murmured, not really wanting to get into a discussion of Serena's marital problems. She hadn't forgotten that Serena thought Richard might be seeing another woman, namely herself, and she didn't think that involving herself with them would be smart. She liked Richard enormously, and Serena had behaved remarkably well since their bad beginning, but still, she felt uneasy discussing Richard as if she knew him a lot better than she actually did.

“Oh, I know he does! The trouble is, Blake's such a hard act for any man to follow. He was the perfect older brother,” she sighed. “Strong, affectionate, understanding. When Mother died he became my rock. Sometimes I think that if anything happened to Blake, I'd die on the spot.”

“Not a very considerate thing to do,” Dione commented, and Serena looked at her sharply before giving a laugh.

“No, it wouldn't be, would it?”

“I've been jealous of you,” Serena continued after a moment, when Dione showed no signs of picking up the conversational threads. “I'd been with Blake almost constantly since the accident; then you practically forbade me to come over except at a time
you
decided would be all right. I was livid! And almost from the beginning, Blake has been engrossed with his therapy, which has taken his attention away from me even when I am with him. He was so close to you, so obviously taken with you; you could get him to do all the things
the other therapists couldn't even get him to think about.”

Dione shifted uncomfortably, afraid that Serena was going to start talking about Richard. It looked as if there was nothing she could do to prevent it, so she decided she might as well hold up her end of the conversation. Lifting her head, she turned somber golden eyes on the other woman.

“I knew you felt that way. I regretted it, but there was nothing I could do about it. Blake had to come first; you were interfering, and I couldn't let you do that.”

Serena arched her dark brows in a manner so like Blake's that Dione stared at her, taken by their similarities. “You were entirely right,” Serena said firmly. “You were doing what you were supposed to do. It took about two weeks before I began to see the difference in Blake, and then I had to admit that I was resenting you on
my
behalf, not his. If I really loved Blake, then I had to stop acting like a spoiled brat. I'm sorry, Dione; I'd really like to be friends with you.”

Dione was startled again; she wondered briefly if Serena's apology had any ulterior motive, but decided to take the younger woman at face value. When all was said and done, she herself was there only temporarily, so anything Serena said wouldn't affect Dione beyond the moment. Lifelong friendships didn't come Dione's way, because she'd learned not to let anyone get too close to her. Even Blake—however close they might be right now, no matter how well she knew him or how much he knew about her—when this was all over, she would be gone and very probably never see him again. She didn't make a habit of keeping in touch with her
ex-patients, though she did sometimes receive cards from some of them at Christmas.

“If you'd like,” she told Serena calmly. “An apology really wasn't necessary.”

“It was for
me
,” Serena insisted, and perhaps it had been. She was Blake's sister, and very like him. Blake didn't back down from anything unpleasant, either.

Dione was tired after the emotional impact of the day, and she didn't look in on Blake before she went to bed. The mood he'd been in, he was probably lying awake waiting for her to stick her head in so he could bite it off. Whatever was bothering him, she'd worry about it in the morning. She fell into a deep sleep, untroubled by dreams.

When she was jerked awake by her name being called, she had the feeling that the sound had been repeated several times before it penetrated her sleep. She scrambled out of bed as it came again. “Dione!”

It was Blake, and from the horse strain in his voice, he was in pain. She ran to his room and approached the bed. He was writhing, trying to sit up. What was wrong with him? “Tell me,” she said insistently, her hands on his bare shoulders, easing him back.

“Cramps,” he groaned.

Of course! She should have realized! He'd pushed himself far too hard that day, and now he was paying the price. She ran her hands down his legs and found the knotted muscles. Without a word she got on the bed with him and began to knead the cramps away, her strong fingers working efficiently. First one leg relaxed, then the other, and he sighed in relief. She kept massaging his calves, knowing that a cramp could return. His flesh was warm under her fingers now, the skin roughened by the hair on his legs. She pushed the legs
of his pajamas up over his knees and continued with her massage. Perhaps he would go back to sleep under the soothing touch….

Abruptly he sat up and thrust her hands away from his legs. “That's enough,” he said curtly. “I don't know what kind of a thrill you get out of handling cripples, but you can play with someone else's legs. You might try Richard; I'm sure he could do you more good than I can.”

Dione sat there astonished, her mouth open. How could he
dare
to say something like that? She'd pulled her nightgown up to give her legs more freedom of movement when she'd climbed on his bed, and now she thrust the cloth down to cover her long legs. “You need slapping,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “Damn it, what's wrong with you? You know I'm not seeing Richard, and I'm sick of you throwing him up to me!
You
called
me
, remember? I didn't sneak in here to take advantage of you.”