Beach Season (44 page)

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Authors: Lisa Jackson

BOOK: Beach Season
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Even now, as he struggled to the end of the parallel bars, he could remember the smell of fresh water and perfume, the taste of her skin and the feel of her body, warm and damp, as she’d lain with him on the sand of some secluded island.
Had they made love? That one delicious recollection escaped him, rising to the surface only to sink below the murky depths of his memory, as did so much of his life. Though he knew—he could sense—that he’d loved her, there was something else stopping him from believing everything she told him of their life together—something ugly and unnamed and a part of the Brad Lomax tragedy.
“Hey! You’ve done it!” the therapist cried as Parker took a final agonizing step.
While thinking of the enigma that was his relationship with Shawna, he hadn’t realized that he’d finished his assigned task. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” the therapist asked, positioning a wheelchair near one of the contraptions that Parker decided were designed for the sole purpose of human torture.
“What?
“You’re a free man. This is the final test. Now, if your doctor agrees, you can go home and just come back here for our workouts.”
Parker wiped the sweat from his eyes and grinned. He’d be glad to leave this place! Maybe once he was home he’d start to remember and he could pick up the pieces of his life with Shawna. Maybe then the dreams of a mystery woman that woke him each night would disappear, and the unknown past would become crystal clear again.
The therapist tossed him a white terry towel and a nurse appeared.
Parker wiped his face, then slung the towel around his neck.
Placing her hands on the handles of the wheelchair, the nurse said, “I’ll just push you back to your room—”
“I’ll handle that,” Shawna said. She’d been standing in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the jamb as she watched Parker will himself through the therapy. She’d witnessed the rigid strength of his sweat-dampened shoulders and arms, seen the flinch of pain as he tried to walk, and recognized the glint of determination in his eyes as he inched those final steps to the end of the bars.
“If you’re sure, Doctor—” the nurse responded, noting Shawna’s identification tag.
“Very sure.” Then she leaned over Parker’s shoulder and whispered, “Your place or mine?”
He laughed then. Despite the throb of pain in his knee and his anguish of not being able to remember anything of his past, he laughed. “Get me out of here.”
“Your wish is my command.” Without further prompting, she rolled him across the polished floors of the basement hallway and into the waiting elevator, where the doors whispered closed. “Alone at last,” she murmured.
“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked, glancing up at her, his eyes warm and vibrant.
Her heart constricted and impulsively she jabbed the stop button before leaning over and pressing her lips to his. “You have been, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to me,” she said, swallowing back a thick lump in her throat. “You showed me there was more to life than medical files, patient charts, and trying to solve everyone else’s problems.”
“I can’t believe—”
“Of course not,” she said, laughing and guessing that he was going to argue with her again, tell her he didn’t deserve her love. “You’ve been right all along, Parker,” she confided. “Everything I’ve been telling you is a lie. You don’t deserve me at all. It’s just that I’m a weak, simple female and you’re so strong and sexy and macho!”
“Is that so?” he asked, strong arms dragging her into his lap.
She kissed him again, lightly this time. “Well, isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”
“Sounded good,” he admitted.
Cocking her head to one side, her blond hair falling across his shoulder, she grinned slowly. “Well, the strong and sexy part is true.”
“But somehow I don’t quite see you as a ‘weak, simple female.’ ”
“Thank heaven. So just believe that you’re the best thing in my life, okay? And no matter what happens, I’m never going to take the chance of losing you again!”
“You won’t,” he murmured, pulling her closer, claiming her lips with a kiss so intense her head began to spin. She forgot the past and the future. She could only concentrate on the here and now, knowing in her heart the one glorious fact that Parker, her beloved Parker, was holding her and kissing her as hungrily as he had before the accident—as if he did indeed love her all over again.
Her breath caught deep in her lungs and inside, she was warming, feeling liquid emotion rush through her veins. She felt his hands move over her, rustling the lining of her skirt to splay against her back, hold her in that special, possessive manner that bound them so intimately together. Delicious, wanton sensations whispered through her body and she tangled her hands in his hair.
“Oh, what you do to me,” he whispered in a voice raw and raspy as his fingers found the hem of her sweater and moved upward to caress one swollen breast. Hot and demanding, his fingers touched the soft flesh and Shawna moaned softly as ripples of pleasure ran like wildfire through her blood.
“Parker, please—” She cradled his head against her, feeling the warmth of his breath touch her skin. His lips teased one throbbing peak, his tongue moist as it caressed the hard little button.
Shawna was melting inside. Rational thought ceased and she was only aware of him and the need he created.
“Oh, Shawna,” he groaned, slowly releasing her, his eyes still glazed with passion as a painful memory sizzled through his desire. “You’re doing it again,” he whispered, rubbing his temple as if it throbbed. “Shawna—stop!”
She had trouble finding her breath. Her senses were still spinning out of control and she stung from his rejection. Why was he pulling away from her? “What are you talking about?”
Passion-drugged eyes drilled into hers. “I remember, Shawna.”
Relieved, she smiled. Everything was going to be fine. She tried to stroke his cheek but he jerked away. “Then you know how much we loved each—”
“I remember that you teased me, pushed me to the limit in public places. Like this.”
“Parker, what are you talking about?” she cried, devastated. What was he saying? If he remembered, then surely he’d know how much she cared.
“It’s not all clear,” he admitted, helping her to her feet. “But there were times, just like this, when you drove me out of my mind!” He reached up and slapped the control panel. The elevator started with a lurch and Shawna nearly lost her footing.
“I don’t understand—” she whispered.
The muscles of his face tautened. “Remember the fair?” he said flatly. “At the fir tree?”
She gasped, recalling rough bark against her bare back, his hands holding her wrists, their conversation about his “mistress.”
“It was only a game we played,” she said weakly.
“Some game.” His eyes, still smoldering with the embers of recent passion, avoided hers. “You know, somehow I had the impression that you and I loved each other before—that we were lovers. You let me think that.” His eyes were as cold as the sea.
“We were,” she said, then recognized the censure in the set of his jaw. “Well, almost. We’d decided to wait to get married before going to bed.”
Arching a brow disdainfully, he said through clenched teeth,
“We
decided? You’re a doctor. I’m a tennis pro. Neither one of us is a kid and you expect me to believe that we were playing the cat-and-mouse game of waiting ’til the wedding.”
“You said you remembered,” she whispered, but then realized his memory was fuzzy. Certain aspects of their relationship were still blurred.
“I said I remembered part of it.” But the anger in his words sounded hollow and unsure, as if he were trying to find an excuse to deny the passion between them only moments before.
The elevator car jerked to a stop and the doors opened on the fourth floor. Shawna, her breasts still aching, reached for the handles of the wheelchair, but Parker didn’t wait for her. He was already pushing himself down the corridor.
In the room, she watched him shove the wheelchair angrily aside and flop onto the bed, his face white from the effort.
“Your memory is selective,” she said, leaning over the bed, pushing her face so close to his that she could read the seductive glint in his blue eyes.
“Maybe,” he admitted and stared at her lips, swallowing with difficulty.
“Then why won’t you just try to give us a chance? We were good together, sex or no sex. Believe me.” She heard him groan.
“Don’t do this to me,” he asked, the fire in his eyes rekindling.
“I’ll do whatever I have to,” she whispered, leaning closer, kissing him, brushing the tips of her breasts across his chest until he couldn’t resist.
“You’re making a big mistake.” He pressed her close to him.
“Let me.”
“I’m not the same man—”
“I don’t care, damn it,” she said, then sighed. “Just love me.”
“That would be too easy,” he admitted gruffly, then buried his face in her hair, drinking in the sweet feminine smell that teased at his mind every night. He held her so fiercely she could feel the heat of his body through her clothes. Clinging to him, she barely heard the shuffle of feet in the doorway until Parker dragged his lips from hers and stared over her shoulder.
Twisting, half expecting to find Jake with his lousy sense of timing, she saw a young black-haired girl standing nervously on one foot, then the other.
“Melinda?” Shawna asked, her throat dry. “Are you looking for me?”
“No,” Melinda James said quietly, her large, brown eyes lifting until they clashed with Parker’s. “I came to see him, on your advice.”
“My advice—what—?” But a dark doubt steadily grew in her heart and she gripped Parker’s shoulders more tightly, as if by clinging to him, she could stop what was to come. “No—there must be some mistake,” she heard herself saying, her voice distant, as if in a dream.
“You told me to talk to him and that’s ... that’s why I’m here,” Melinda said, her eyes round with fear, large tears collecting on her lashes. “You see, Parker Harrison is the father of my child.”
C
HAPTER
7
“He’s what?” Shawna whispered, disbelieving.
“It’s true.”
“Wait a minute—” Parker stared at the girl, not one flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Who are you?”
Shawna wanted to tell him not to believe a word of Melinda’s story, but she didn’t. Instead she forced herself to watch his reaction as Melinda, hesitantly at first, then with more conviction, claimed she and Parker had been seeing each other for several months, long before he’d started dating Shawna, and that she’d become pregnant with his child.
Parker blanched, his mouth drawing into a tight line.
“This is absurd,” Shawna finally said, praying that Parker would back her up.
“How old are you?” he asked, eyes studying the dark-haired girl.
“Eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” he repeated, stunned. His eyes narrowed and he forced himself to stand. “And you’re saying that you and I—”
“—were lovers,” Melinda clarified.
Shawna couldn’t stand it a minute more. “This is all a lie. Parker, this girl came into my office, asked all sorts of questions about you and your amnesia, and then had me examine her.”
“And?”
“And she
is
pregnant. That much is true. But ... but ... she’s lying ... you couldn’t have been with her.
I
would have known.” But even though her words rang with faith, she couldn’t help remembering all the times Parker had taunted her by pretending to have a mistress.
I suppose this means that I’ll have to give up my mistress,
he’d said at the fair, teasing her, but wounding her just the same. Her old doubts twisted her heart. Was it possible that he’d actually been seeing someone and that the person he’d been with had been this girl?
“You don’t remember me?” Melinda asked.
Parker closed his eyes, flinching a bit.
“I saw you the night of the accident,” she prodded. “You ... you were with Brad and he was drunk.”
Parker’s eyes flew open and pain, deep and tragic, showed in their vibrant blue depths.
“You stopped by my apartment and Brad became violent, so you hauled him back to the car.”
“She’s making this up,” Shawna said. “She must have read about it in the papers or heard it on the news.” But her voice faltered as she saw Parker wrestling with a memory.
“I’ve met her before,” he said slowly. “I was at her apartment.”
“No!” Shawna cried. She wouldn’t believe a word of Melinda’s lies—she couldn’t! Parker would never betray her! She’d almost lost Parker once and she wasn’t about to lose him again, not to this girl, not to anyone. “Parker, you don’t honestly believe—”
“I don’t know
what
to believe!” he snapped.
“But we’ve been through so much together ...” Then she turned her eyes on Melinda and all of her professionalism and medical training flew out the window. No longer was Melinda her patient, but just a brash young woman trying to tarnish the one man Shawna loved. “Look,” she said, her voice as ragged as her emotions. “I don’t really know who you are or why you’re here torturing him or even how you got into this room, but I want you out, now!”
“Stop it, Shawna,” Parker said.
But Shawna ignored him. “I’ll call the guards if I have to, but you have no right to come in here and upset any of the patients—”
“I’m
your
patient,” Melinda said, satisfaction briefly gleaming in her eyes.
“I referred you to—”
“He’s the father of my child, damn it!” Melinda cried, wilting against the wall and sobbing like the girl she was.
“She can stay,” Parker pronounced as Tom Handleman, his lab coat flapping behind him, marched into the room. “What the devil’s going on here?” he demanded, eyeing Shawna. “Who’s she?” He pointed an accusing finger at the huddled figure of Melinda.
“A friend of mine,” Parker said, his voice ringing with quiet authority.
“Parker, no!” Shawna whispered, ignoring Tom. “She lied to me this morning—told me the name of her previous physician in Cleveland. I tried to call him—there is no Dr. Harold Rankin in the area.”
“Then he moved,” Melinda said, stronger because of Parker’s defense. “It’s—it’s been years.”
“She has to leave,” Shawna decided, turning to Tom, desperation contorting her face.
“Maybe she can help,” Tom suggested.
“Help?” Shawna murmured. “She’s in here accusing him, lying to him, lying to me—”
Melinda stood, squaring her shoulders and meeting Parker’s clouded gaze. “I—I understand why you feel betrayed, Dr. McGuire. First Parker lied to you and then I had to lie this morning. But I just wanted to find out that he was all right. No one would let me in here. Then
you
convinced me that I had to tell him about the baby—”
“Baby?”
Handleman asked, his face ashen.
“—and I decided you were right. Every father has the right to know about his child whether he wants to claim him or not.”
“For cryin’ out loud!” Tom whispered. “Look, Miss—”
“James,” Melinda supplied.
“Let her stay,” Parker said.
“You remember me,” she said.
Shawna wanted to die as they stared at each other.
“I’ve met you,” Parker admitted, his face muscles taut. “And I don’t mean to insult you, Miss James—”
“Melinda. You called me Linnie. Don’t you remember?” Her chin trembled and she fought against tears that slid from her eyes.
“I’m sorry—”
“You have to remember!” she cried. “All those nights by the river—all those promises—”
Good Lord, what was she saying? Shawna’s throat closed up. “Parker and I were—are—going to be married, and neither one of us believes that he’s the father of your child. This is obviously just some way for you and your boyfriend to take advantage—”
“No!” Melinda whispered. “I don’t care what
you
believe, but Parker loves me! He—he—” Her eyes darted quickly around the room and she blinked. “Oh, please, Parker. Remember,” she begged.
Parker gripped the arms of his wheelchair. “Melinda,” he said softly. Was it Shawna’s imagination or did his voice caress the younger woman’s name? “I don’t remember ever sleeping with you.”
“You deny the baby?”
He glanced at Shawna, his eyes seeming haunted. She could only stare back at him. “Not the baby. I’m just not sure it’s mine.”
Shawna shook her head. “No—”
“Then maybe you’d want a simple paternity test,” Melinda suggested.
“Hey—hold the phone,” Tom Handleman cut in. “Let’s all just calm down. Right now, Miss James, I’m asking you to leave.” Then he glanced at Shawna. “You, too, Dr. McGuire. This has been a strain on Parker. Let’s all just give it a rest.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Melinda said staunchly, seeming to draw from an inner reserve of strength. “Don’t get me wrong, Parker. I’m not interested in ruining your reputation or trying to damage your professional image, but my baby needs his father.”
“So you want money,” Parker said cynically.
“Money isn’t what I’m after,” Melinda said, and Shawna felt a chill as cold as a December wind cut through her. “I want to give my baby a name and I want him to know who his father is. If it takes a paternity test to convince you or a lawsuit, I don’t care.” Swallowing back a fresh onslaught of tears, she walked unsteadily out of the room.
Shawna turned a tortured gaze to Parker. “You remember her?”
He nodded and let his forehead drop to his hand. “A little.”
Dying inside, Shawna leaned against the bed. After all these weeks, Parker still barely admitted to remembering her—only disjointed pieces of their relationship. And yet within fifteen minutes of meeting Melinda James he conceded that he recognized her. Dread settled over her.
Sick inside, she wondered if Melinda’s ridiculous accusations could possibly be true. Did Parker remember Melinda because they had slept together? Was her face so indelibly etched in his mind because of their intimacy? But that was ridiculous—she knew it and deep down, so did he!
She felt that everything she’d believed in was slowly being shredded into tiny pieces.
“You—you and Brad. You saw her that night?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the hospital.
He nodded, his jaw extending. “Yes.”
“And you remember?”
“Not everything.”
“Maybe she was Brad’s girl. Maybe the baby is his.”
Parker’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
Tom placed his hand over Shawna’s arm and guided her to the door. “Don’t torture yourself,” he said in a concerned whisper. “Go home, think things through. I guarantee you Parker will do the same. Then tomorrow, come back and take him home.”
“Home?” she repeated dully.
“Yes, I’m releasing him tomorrow.” He glanced over his shoulder to Parker. “That is, unless Miss James’s visit sets him back.”
“I hope not,” Shawna said, staring at Parker with new eyes, trying to smile and failing miserably. “Look, I really need to talk to him. Just a few minutes, okay?”
“I guess it won’t hurt,” Tom decided, “but keep it short. He’s had one helluva shock today.”
“Haven’t we all?” Shawna said as Tom closed the door behind him.
Parker didn’t look at her. He scowled through the window to the gray day beyond.
Had he betrayed her? Shawna couldn’t believe it. Melinda had to be lying. But why? And why had Parker gone to visit the young girl before taking Brad home? Was it to call off their affair? Or had he needed to see her just one more time before the wedding? Shawna’s stomach churned at the thought of them lying together, kissing—
“So much for the knight in shining armor, huh?” he mocked.
“I don’t believe a word of her lies. And I really don’t think you do, either.”
“That’s the tricky part,” he admitted, staring up at the ceiling. “I know I’ve seen her—been with her, but—”
“—But you don’t remember.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she leaned against the bed.
“She has no reason to lie.”
“Neither do I, Parker. I don’t know anything about that girl, but I know what we shared and we didn’t cheat or lie or betray one another.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Positive,” she whispered, wishing that awful shadow of doubt would disappear from her mind. “I only wish I could prove it.”
Parker watched her blink back tears, saw her fine jaw jut in determination, and loved her for all of her pride and faith in him. Her blond hair draped across her shoulder to curl at her breast, and her eyes, fierce with indignation and bright with unshed tears, were as green as a night-darkened forest. How he loved her. Even lying here, charged with fathering another woman’s child, he loved Shawna McGuire. But not because of any memories that had surfaced in his mind. No, this love was new, borne from just being near her. Never had he met any woman so proud and free-spirited, so filled with giving and fighting for what she believed in. And what she believed in was him.
“Do you think you’re the father of Melinda’s baby?” she finally asked, so close he could touch her.
“I don’t know.”
She blanched, as if in severe pain. Without thinking he took her hand in his and pulled her gently forward, so that she was leaning over him.
“But I do know that if I ever did anything that would hurt you this much, I have to be the worst bastard that ever walked the earth.”
She swallowed. “You ... you wouldn’t.”
“I hope to God you’re right.” His throat felt dry, and though the last thing he intended to do was kiss her again, he couldn’t stop himself. He held her close, tilting her chin up with one finger and molding his mouth possessively over hers. “I don’t want to ever hurt you, Shawna,” he rasped hoarsely. “Don’t let me.”
“You won’t.” She felt the promise of his tongue as it gently parted her lips, then heard the sound of voices in the hall. She couldn’t think when he held her, and she needed time alone to recover from the shock of Melinda James’s announcement. Besides, she’d promised Dr. Handleman she wouldn’t upset Parker. “Look, I don’t want to, but I’ve got to go. Doctor’s orders.”
“To hell with doctor’s orders,” he muttered, his arms flexing around her, thwarting her attempts at escape.
“Don’t mess with the medical profession,” she warned, but the lilt she tried for didn’t materialize in her voice.
“Not the whole profession,” he said slowly, “just one very beautiful lady doctor.”
Oh, Parker!
Her throat thickened. “Later,” she promised, kissing him lightly on the tip of the nose and hearing him moan in response.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispered.
“What?”

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