Текст книги "Native Affairs"

Автор книги: Doreen Malek Owens

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He kissed her gently, and she sighed, unwinding visibly. He waited until he could feel that her desire was stronger than her anxiety and then set her back down, bending to kiss her thighs, the swell of her hips, the soft dimple of her navel. Before she knew what was happening she was lifting herself off the bed to help him strip away her last defense.

Cindy lay naked, and Fox’s lips parted as he drank in the sight of her, his eyes moving greedily over every lovely inch.

“I wish you could see how you look to me,” he whispered. “I’ll never, never forget.” In a gesture of homage, almost of worship, he stretched out next to her and pressed his burning cheek to her bare belly. His body radiated heat, and the flush staining his skin made him look more primitive than ever. His eyes were closed, and the curve of his lashes swept his cheeks like tiny black webs. Cindy rested her hand on his head, moving her fingers through the thick mass of his hair. He inhaled sharply, and then exhaled in a long breath. She heard it catch in the middle like a sob.

He sat up abruptly, blinking rapidly, and stood to remove the rest of his clothes. She looked away until he joined her on the bed. He enfolded her, stroking the satiny slope of her spine. The shock of his nakedness was pleasant, and then intoxicating as his legs moved between hers and she felt the hard strength of his body, the urgency of his desire. He kissed her everywhere, her lips, her breasts, caressing her from her fingers to her toes until she was clutching him, straining against him eagerly. She wound her legs around him, so anxious for union that she unconsciously moved into position.

He was trembling but still in control. He slid his hands beneath her hips, where she could feel the imprint of each finger like a brand.

“This may hurt,” he said hoarsely, on fire to bury himself in her, but still trying to shield her from all pain.

“I don’t care,” she moaned, no longer needing his restraint. She was all woman now, restless, seeking, digging her heels into the back of his legs. Her nails scraped his shoulders, slick with sweat, and she surged against him.

He entered her partially and she grimaced, but made no sound. He waited, perfectly still.

“Are you all right?” he asked, fighting off the instinctive urge to continue.

Cindy opened her eyes to look at him, and in his gaze she saw the love he had never expressed in words.

“I’m fine,” she whispered and kissed him. He kissed her back eagerly, and on his lips she tasted the salt of his effort to control himself.

“Then hold me tight,” he said. She did so, and he thrust again. She gasped as he joined with her fully and lowered his weight onto her, embracing her completely.

“Oh, Drew,” she moaned. “I feel like part of you.” Her head fell back and he settled against her, their bodies interlocked, a perfect fit.

“You are,” he responded, moving within her so skillfully that she arched her back and her breath hissed between her teeth.

“Now come with me,” he added.

“Anywhere,” Cindy answered. “I’ll go with you anywhere.”

And she did.

* * * *

Cindy awoke to the sound of running water. She was alone in the bed. Fox’s scent was everywhere: in the sheets, on her skin, like a warm and musky perfume. She was drunk with it, and him.

She glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight; he had made love to her for a long time.

She got up and wrapped the sheet around her, wandering to the bathroom, the source of the noise. Fox was kneeling on the floor next to the tub, sprinkling salts into the rushing water and splashing them around to make suds.

He looked up and saw her in the doorway. “I’m running this for you,” he announced, holding out his hand.

Obediently, Cindy padded to his side. He helped her out of the sheet and into the water.

“Be right back,” he said, as she sank up to her chin in fragrant bubbles. She shrugged philosophically, and stretched, letting the wet heat soak into her bones. Her glance fell on the bottle of salts on the shelf above the tub. It was an expensive brand, and obviously not his. She tried not to think about the woman who had left it behind with him.

Fox returned with a tumbler half filled with amber liquid. “Brandy,” he said, and handed it to her.

Cindy accepted it without thought, and then started to smile. The smile soon escalated into laughter. She grabbed a handful of foam and threw it at him. He stared at her.

“Goose,” she said, and laughed again.

He put his hands on his hips.

“I’ve lost my virginity, Drew, not my mind. You’re treating me like a psychiatric case.”

His face fell, and then his mouth assumed the stubborn line she knew indicated trouble. He didn’t like being laughed at, even by her.

“Well, I don’t know what to do for you,” he said resentfully.

She raised her brows and looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t you?” she asked.

Never a man to miss such a cue, he dashed to the tub and grabbed her, hauling her bodily out of the water. She kicked and flailed her arms, streaming water and suds onto the tile floor. Foam flew in all directions as he carried her, laughing and struggling, to the bed.

“I’m all wet!” she protested, as he tossed her onto the sheets and stripped off his jeans. “And covered with soapsuds.”

“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” he said piously, and jumped in with her. She settled down immediately as he pinned her under him, holding her still.

“What?” he said, teasing. “Nothing to say?”

“Nope,” she answered, putting her arms around his neck.

“Okay,” he said, feigning ignorance. “You’re going to have to tell me what you want.”

She squirmed, not comfortable with putting it into words.

“You know,” she whispered.

He shook his head.

“Mm If ti muh,” she muttered.

“Can’t hear you,” he said, putting his finger in his ear.

She narrowed her eyes, fuming.

“Guess I’ll be going,” he sighed, and levered himself off her. She reached up and yanked him back down to her, where he collapsed, laughing.

“You’re so funny,” she said disgustedly.

“Still haven’t heard the magic words,” he said, shrugging, his grin roguish.

“Make love to me!” she yelled, and his eyes widened.

“Why didn’t you say so?” he asked, and kissed her.

She punched his shoulder once, lightly. Then her fingers curved around his arm, and she kissed him back, ravenously.

“Wow,” he gasped, raising his head. “I’ve created a monster. Are you sure you’re new at this?”

“You know I am,” she answered, pulling away.

“Don’t get huffy; I was only kidding,” he said mildly, holding her fast. “I just meant that you’re a quick study, that’s all.”

“I always catch on to new concepts easily,” she recited stiffly, and then heard what she had said. She giggled and he covered his eyes with his hand.

“Give me a break,” he moaned.

“You asked for it,” she reminded him.

“So I did,” he agreed, nuzzling her neck. He drew her against him, and she fitted herself to his body.

“Time for a quiz,” he murmured. “We have to test how much you’ve learned in the past few hours.”

“I’m ready,” she sighed.

“Now pay attention,” he began, and they took the test together.

* * * *

In the morning Fox woke Cindy with a kiss.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Looks like I exhausted you.”

“Are you the handsome prince who breaks the spell?” she asked, regarding him contentedly.

His face clouded. “I’m no prince, sweetheart. I thought I already made that clear.”

“Well, handsome, anyway,” she said, smiling, trying to joke him out of his sober reaction.

He stood up silently and lit a cigarette. She followed after him, reaching for his shirt and slipping it over her head. It drifted to her thighs like a mini-dress.

“What’s this?” she asked, surveying the food he had put out on the dresser. “What time did you get up? Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Not much,” he replied, exhaling a stream of smoke. “It’s a waste of time.”

“Did you make any of this?”

He shook his head. “No chance of that. I got it from the take-out place where I bought the picnic lunches. I’ve been keeping that deli in business for ten years.”

Cindy bit into half of an English muffin and took a sip of the juice provided in a plastic container. “Don’t you want any?” she asked him.

He nodded, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up a styrofoam cup of coffee. He regarded her thoughtfully over its rim, his eyes unreadable.

“Guess what I want to do after we eat?” she said, and he coughed.

“Please,” he said, setting the cup down and closing his eyes in a parody of strained endurance. “You’re going to put me in the intensive care ward.”

Cindy went to his side and lifted his hand to her face, studying it. The long brown fingers had broad, spatulate nails. The veins on the back were raised to prominence by long years of physical activity. She turned it over and kissed the hard palm.

“I doubt it,” she said, setting her teeth on the edge of his thumb.

“Okay,” he sighed, allowing her to tug him toward the bed. “But when you see me in an oxygen tent, hooked up to a heart monitor, with those tubes running out of my arms, remember that I warned you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she replied, proceeding to unbuckle his belt as she hummed under her breath.

He laughed, seizing her and kissing her hard. “You’re like a kid with a new toy.”

“And I need some further practice in using it,” she answered, with a sly upward glance.

He took his shirt by its hem and yanked it over her head. “Practice makes perfect,” he said piously, and tumbled her onto the sheets.

* * * *

They spent most of that day in bed. Fox answered the phone twice, disposing of the calls briefly. From the tenor of what she overheard Cindy gathered that they were business. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it in front of her. After the second call, he switched on his answering machine and turned off the bell.

Hunger drove them out that evening. Since his refrigerator yielded nothing but beer and lettuce, they decided on a restaurant and got ready to go. As they were leaving Cindy asked, in a casual tone that failed to disguise her true feelings, “Drew, who was that woman in the Golden Door with you the other night?”

He shot her a sidelong glance. “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking me that.”

“It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. “I’ll tell you. That was Rosalie, Walter’s wife. If you had hung around for another five minutes you would have seen him join us. It was her birthday.”

“Oh,” Cindy said in a small voice, feeling silly.

“I guess we both jumped to conclusions that night, huh?” he said, smiling down at her.

“I guess so,” she replied, thinking that there was still no explanation for the perfumed bubble bath. But she didn’t have the nerve to ask him about that. One thing at a time.

Fox had parked his car in the underground garage. He had found the back window jimmied the previous week and had taken this precaution against theft. They took the elevator to the basement, where they were very much alone, since it was an unusual time for a departure. The workers had already returned home and it was a little early for the evening traffic. Fox was walking a little ahead of her, and as he turned to put his arm around her, his expression changed from a slight smile to sudden alarm.

That was the last thing she saw before the world went black.

Chapter 8

Cindy woke to semi-darkness, with a throbbing pain in her head. It took her several seconds to determine that she was in a hospital. Antiseptic smells drifted in from the corridor, where she could make out the curved bar of a nurses’ station. There was a rustle of starched fabric and she realized she was not alone.

“I see you’re awake,” a man in a white lab coat said. “Just let me take a look at those eyes.” He took out a tiny light which looked like a fountain pen and shone it in her face.

“Drew,” Cindy said hoarsely.

“Pupils look good,” the doctor said, as if congratulating her on some achievement. “How’s the head?”

He put the light back in his pocket and made a note on a chart.

“Where’s Drew?” Cindy said louder, sitting up straight. Pain shot through her head like a bolt of lightning, and she dropped back to the pillow, trembling.

“I would advise against any sudden movements,” the doctor said cheerfully, too late. “That’s quite a concussion you have there.”

“Is Drew all right?” Cindy almost screamed. At least she tried to scream. It came out like a croak.

“Mr. Fox is fine,” the doctor said soothingly, answering the question at last. “Or he will be, once we get him patched up.”

‘‘Patched up?” Cindy repeated faintly.

He looked at her for the first time, as a person rather than a patient, and saw the depth of her anxiety.

“Mr. Fox was stabbed in the arm, and one of my colleagues is putting in the stitches right now.”

“Stabbed,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”

The doctor replaced the chart at the foot of the bed and then came to stand next to her. He patted her hand awkwardly.

“Don’t be upset,” he said. “Mr. Fox is an old hand at this sort of thing.”

“Well I’m not,” she mumbled, and he smiled.

“No doubt. But you shouldn’t worry unduly about your friend. He’s been with us before, you know. He shows up every few months with something like this.”

Cindy was silent, trying to put it all together.

“Aren’t you interested in what happened to you?” the doctor asked.

She nodded, and discovered that it hurt to do so. “Yes.”

“Apparently one of the men Mr. Fox put back in jail got out on parole. He found out where your friend lived and waited for him in that garage area. When you passed he jumped both of you.”

Cindy listened, too appalled to comment.

“He chopped you on the back of the neck first,” the doctor continued equably, as if reading the weather report, “to get you out of the way, and then went after Mr. Fox with a knife, slicing his arm. Mr. Fox knocked him out and then brought you here in his car, violating every posted speed limit in the process. He picked up a police escort of two squad cars and they all roared into emergency at the same time. And I understand that the admitting nurse was your roommate, and she put on quite a scene. It was all very colorful, I assure you.”

“Paula,” Cindy murmured. Oh, no.

“And,” the doctor said, warming to his tale, “Mr. Fox punched out an orderly he thought wasn’t tending to you fast enough. I must say he was more concerned about your welfare than the pint of blood he had lost along the way.”

“You were there?” Cindy asked, glad that she had slept through it.

“Only for the last part. The punching out, I mean. I missed your dramatic arrival by a few minutes but I heard all about it.”

I’m sure you did, Cindy thought gloomily. “Is Paula still here?”

“The nurse? Oh, no, we sent her home with a prescription for tranquilizers. I’m sure she’ll be in to visit tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong with me? You said it was a concussion?”

“In simple terms, yes. You sustained a blow that might have caused damage to the spine or the head. We’ll be doing some tests for intracranial pressure and a few other things tomorrow. I’m Doctor Markel, by the way, and I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

“I want to see Drew. Can I see him?”

Dr. Markel shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not. You need your rest and so does he.”

“What about tomorrow? Can I see him tomorrow?”

“We’ll talk about it then. Now settle down and the ward nurse will be in shortly to take your vital signs.”

Whatever they are, Cindy thought. She watched as Dr. Markel bustled out the door, closing it behind him, eliminating her view of the hall.

She lay back and stared at the ceiling.

There didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

* * * *

In the morning Cindy was shuffled around for various tests,which ranged from the uncomfortable to the ridiculous. Apparently she passed them all because around noon they began making noises about discharging her.

She asked about Fox five times and was put off with a range of excuses. She was told that he was doing well, but that she still could not see him.

Paula arrived after lunch, carrying a plant bigger than she was. She took one look at Cindy and burst into tears.

“Stop crying, Paula, I’m all right. What is that, a baby tree?”

Paula put the bush down and pulled a wad of tissues from her pocket. “I couldn’t believe it when they brought you in,” she began. “You were out cold, white as a sheet, and Fox was covered with blood, yelling for us to take care of you. He looked like something out of a horror movie, even his hair was matted with gore. I thought that you were dead and he was dying.”

“It’s over, Paula. We’re both all right.”

“No thanks to him!” Paula said fiercely. “I knew he would be trouble. Didn’t I tell you he would be trouble? He’s dangerous, those people he chases are dangerous. That guy who attacked you really meant business, you know. When they brought him back to jail he said he didn’t want to hire someone to go after Fox, he wanted the pleasure of taking care of him personally. ‘Taking care of him.’ His exact words.” She shuddered.

“Calm down, Paula. You’re getting hysterical.”

“When I think,” Paula barrelled on, ignoring her, “of all the time I spent trying to get you out of those libraries and into a social life. And this is how you take my advice? By jumping from the reference stacks into knife brawls with hoods. By running around with Andrew freakin’ Fox, of all people! Even the cops are afraid of him.” She threw up her hands. “It’s like going from singing in a church choir to running guns for the mafia.”

A nurse came in from the hall, glancing at Paula’s offering. “I see that Birnam Wood has arrived,” she said dryly.

Paula threw her a dirty look.

“Time to take your pulse,” she said, picking up Cindy’s wrist.

“How is Andrew Fox?” Cindy asked her.

The nurse smiled. “You two should work up a routine. Every time I go in his room he asks about you.”

“He might well ask,” Paula sniffed. “He’s the reason she’s here in the first place.”

The nurse glanced curiously at Paula. “Don’t you work down in emergency?” she asked.

Paula nodded. “I was there when the two of them came in.”

The nurse grinned. “Some show, huh?”

Paula turned to Cindy. “Your mother called, and I had to make up a story about your absence. I didn’t dare tell her the truth or she would have been flying down here to see you on the next plane.”

“Thanks,” Cindy said. “I appreciate it.” By comparison with Cindy’s mother, Paula was a rock, a bastion of stability.

The nurse left, and Paula stayed until visiting hours were over, settling down enough to discuss her budding romance with the pharmacist and a few other mundane topics. As soon as she left Dr. Markel appeared, with his little light in his hand.

“Look at the ceiling,” he commanded, and Cindy did. “Look at the floor,” he said, and she complied.

He stepped back, satisfied.

“Well, young lady, I think you can go home.”

A different nurse came in and handed him something to sign.

“I want to see Andrew Fox,” Cindy said.

The doctor and the nurse exchanged glances.

“If you discharge me, I’ll just visit him tonight,” Cindy said reasonably.

“I don’t think so,” Dr. Markel said. “He doesn’t want to see you. We have direct instructions not to permit you in his room, and we have to follow the wishes of the patient in these cases.” He scribbled his signature and handed the clipboard back to the nurse.

“He won’t see me,” Cindy whispered, stunned. She couldn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, as the nurse looked on sympathetically. “But that’s what Mr. Fox wants, and we can’t risk upsetting him while he’s still in our care.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “Maybe he’ll change his mind when he’s feeling better.”

“But why?”

Dr. Markel shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said much of anything really, except to ask about you. I must say it seems odd that he is so interested in your condition and yet doesn’t want to see you for himself. But then, he’s an odd fellow.”

He nodded, dismissing the nurse, and she left the room.

“May I ask you a question?” the doctor said, startling Cindy out of her reverie.

“Yes.”

“What’s the story with Mr. Fox? You seem to know him better than most. He’s a good-looking guy. Smart too, from what I can see. Why does he have to make his living getting banged up like a boxer in a two bit smoker?”

“I think he likes it,” Cindy murmured, more to herself than to him.

“Beg pardon?” Dr. Markel said.

“He likes the danger, the excitement. Not knowing what’s going to happen from day to day.”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t understand that.”

“Neither do I. But that’s what makes him different from you and me.”

“From most people, I would guess,” Dr. Markel said practically. He folded his arms and surveyed her critically. “Now our usual discharge hours are in the morning, but if you’ll sign yourself out, I’ll let you go as soon as you can pack your things. You’ll need a ride home.”

“I’ll call Paula,” Cindy said, reaching for the bedside phone.

The doctor headed for the door. On his way out he paused and said, “Miss Warren? Good luck with your adventurous friend.”

Cindy nodded and picked up the phone.

* * * *

Cindy had almost managed to convince herself that there was some mistake, until she called the hospital the following day and was told that Fox still would not see her.

Paula entered the room as she was replacing the receiver.

“No change?” Paula asked.

Cindy shook her head.

Paula sighed. “Well, I was hoping things would improve, but since they haven’t I might as well give you this now.” She went to the coat closet and returned with a large gift box. “This came for you while you were still in the hospital. It’s from him.”

Cindy stared at the package. “How do you know?”

“I saw the receipt when it came. His name was on it, he ordered it by phone.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Paula said, annoyed. “I didn’t open it.”

Cindy took the box and undid the cord, pushing aside the layers of tissue paper after she removed the lid. It contained a cornflower blue dress, just right color for her dark hair and light eyes, in her exact size. There was a card enclosed. She slit the envelope with her fingernail. Inside, on a plain white background, was the drawing of a tiny fox face.

She showed it to Paula. “Why would he be sending me a dress?”

Paula shrugged. “I guess to replace the clothes you were wearing when you were attacked. Fox’s blood got all over them. Didn’t you realize that you were discharged in the things I had brought you?”

Cindy had been so disturbed by Fox’s refusal to see her that she hadn’t noticed what she was wearing.

“He must have had the delivery man stop by the hospital so he could insert the card,” Paula mused.

The more Cindy thought about the gift the angrier she got. “Paula, do you know what this is?” she asked, her mouth a tight line.

“A dress?” Paula said, stating the obvious.

“No. This is goodbye, the kiss off, the statement of farewell. He has decided for some reason or other that he doesn’t want to see me again, and this little item is supposed to do the trick.”

“Well,” Paula began hesitantly, “maybe it would be best, in view of what’s happened, just to let it go....”

Cindy threw the box across the room.

“I guess not,” Paula amended quickly.

“The coward!” Cindy spat. “Well, they have to discharge him sooner or later. He can’t avoid me forever.”

Paula picked up the dress box and set it on a chair.

“If he wants to say goodbye he’ll have to do it to my face,” Cindy said furiously. “When he gets out of the hospital I’ll track him down and strangle him with that bloody dress!”

Paula waited until Cindy had stalked down the hall and into her bedroom. Then she sank onto the sofa and closed her eyes.

Who would have thought that shy, bookish Lucinda had it in her?

* * * *

Fox was discharged from the hospital the next morning. As soon as Cindy got word of his release from the information desk, she took Paula’s car keys and left her a note. Paula had worked the night before and was still sleeping.

Cindy drove to Fox’s condominium with a lot on her mind, the least of which was Dr. Markel’s warning about driving. She didn’t seem to be experiencing the dizziness or blurring of vision that he had discussed, so she forged ahead, more concerned about her showdown with her lover than the state of her health.

Next to her on the passenger seat was the box containing the blue dress. She eyed it as if it were a toad. He was going to be very sorry he ever came up with the idea of sending it.

She walked through the rarefied air of the lobby in Fox’s building as if she belonged there. Luckily the security guard remembered her from her previous visits and waved her on. Cindy was working herself into fine mettle as she ascended to the fourth floor, and she rang the bell with the dress box under her arm like a crossbow.

A middle-aged woman answered the door. Startled, Cindy stammered that she wanted to see Mr. Fox.

“I’m the cleaning lady,” the woman answered. “Mrs. Hallam, just hired last week. Mr. Fox ordered up a whole houseful of new furniture and then discovered that it has to be dusted.” She chuckled at her own joke.

Cindy smiled wanly. “Yes, I know. Could you tell him that I’m here and would like to see him? My name is Cindy Warren.”

“Oh, he’s not at home,” Mrs. Hallam said, shaking out her dust rag. “I’ll be happy to leave a message.”

“Not at home?” Cindy said. “He was just discharged from the hospital this morning.”

“Huh,” Mrs. Hallam said disgustedly. “You didn’t think that would nail his feet to the floor, did you? He no sooner marched in here than he marched out again, still wearing a sling on that bad arm.”

“Do you know where he went?”

Mrs. Hallam looked her over suspiciously. “I don’t know if I should say.”

“Please, Mrs. Hallam. It’s very important. I really have to see him today.”

“Are you the little lady who picked out all this stuff?” Mrs. Hallam asked, gesturing expansively at the apartment behind her. “Mr. Fox talked about that.”

“Yes, I am.”

Mrs. Hallam nodded. “He told me he was going out to that property his uncle owns at some lake. Do you know where it is?”

“Thank you, yes, I do. I really appreciate the information. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye.” Cindy was off down the hall again instantly, leaving Mrs. Hallam to stare after her, shaking her head.

The drive to the lake seemed to take much longer than it had when she was with Fox, and she got lost once when she took a wrong turn. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the route on her previous trip. But she recognized the scenery on the road to Eli’s house, and as she passed it she remembered his invitation to come and see him. It looked like she never would.

She continued down the road, and it wasn’t long before she saw Fox’s pickup in the distance. She pulled up behind it and got out of the car, lifting the dress box into her arms again. She was really tired of carrying it around with her like a cardboard albatross, but it appeared that she would be relieved of her burden soon. She heard a series of reports, sounding very loud in the wooded stillness. They continued, getting louder as she picked her way through the trees toward the shore of the lake. When she broke through the ground cover and into the clearing, she saw Fox about two hundred feet ahead of her, firing a gun.

He was taking target practice. He had set up a makeshift fence along the water, and was methodically shooting beer bottles off it into the dirt. His stance didn’t waver and he didn’t look at her. He never missed. Cindy watched him undetected for a while, and then when he paused to set up new targets she called out to him. He spun around and stared at her, waiting silently as she walked across the grassy shore to his side. He didn’t say a word.

“Hello, Drew,” Cindy said when she reached him, with a calmness that surprised her. “How are you feeling?”

“Stabbed,” he said shortly, and she smiled thinly.

“I see that. I like your sling. It gives you a decidedly piratical air.”

“You mean more than usual?” he responded, and then added, “How did you find me?”

“I went to your place and your cleaning lady told me where you were. Does your doctor know you’re out here doing this?”

“My doctor doesn’t know a stethoscope from a stapler.”

He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy for her, so she decided to get it over with as quickly as possible. “I came to return this to you,” she said flatly, and extended the box toward him.

He looked at it, then at her, making no move to take it. She bent and set it on the ground.

He watched her, rubbing his cheek with the back of his uninjured arm, the gun dangling loosely from his fingers.

Cindy shuddered. “Would you mind not waving that thing in my face?” she said sharply. “I hate guns.”

Fox tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “So do I, but I find it necessary to be proficient with them in my line of work.” He waited a couple of beats and then said, “Why don’t you want the dress?”

“I prefer memories over material things,” she said simply, and she saw the impact of her statement hit him.

“Are you all right?” he asked tightly.

“I am, although you would have no way of knowing it.”

His eyes flashed. “I was in touch with that Dr. Markel the whole time you were in the hospital!” he said angrily. “Right up until the minute you were discharged.”

“Why wouldn’t you see me while you were there?” she flared back at him.

He looked away from her. “I thought it best to leave you alone. You were hurt twice because of me; I’m obviously not good for your health.”

“I see. And it never occurred to you that I might be worried about you, that I might want to see for myself that you were okay?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Cindy. I’m sorry about all of it.”

“All of it?” she asked, emphasizing the first word.

He knew exactly what she meant. “All of it,” he repeated. “Getting involved with me was a mistake. Next time you might not be so lucky. Next time you might wind up in the morgue.”

His voice was so cold, so distant, that it was hard for her to believe this was the same man who had made such passionate love to her only a few days before.

“All right, Drew,” Cindy said. “I can’t say I’m surprised. This is precisely the reaction I thought I would get from you. I know you very well, I find. I can predict your moods like the rising of the sun.”