Heart Melter (3 page)

“Great.” Natasha rolled her eyes and privately cursed Ian. “Let’s get it over with then.”

“First a tiny jab, then a bit of stinging as the liquid goes in. Relax your muscles so it won’t hurt,” Nurse Judy said. She pulled on plastic gloves and lowered the edge of Natasha’s panties, rubbing alcohol on the spot she’d inject.

Natasha gritted her teeth and silently endured the needle even though it hurt when the liquid went in.

“Okay, we’re finished, dear. If the area gets sore or swollen, put an ice pack or a bag of frozen veggies on it. That should take care of it,” Judy said reassuringly.

With a nod, Natasha turned over and reached for the scrubs.

“I love your hair color. I want to dye mine the same shade of red, but yours looks natural,” Judy said, patting her short curly brown hair.

“It is.” Natasha smiled. “You should go for it. It would look great on you.”

Judy grinned broadly. “Thanks, I think I will. You’re the Broadway actress aren’t you?” she asked as she helped Natasha into the drawstring pants.

“Yes. Do you like musicals?”

Judy’s big brown eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I
love
musicals. They’re my biggest indulgence. I heard you’re starring in ‘The Bee’s Knees’. When is it—”

A few sharp raps on the door interrupted her question as Ian entered. “All done?”

“Yes. All done, doc.” Judy winked at Natasha and left the room.

“Are you planning any more surprise jabs before you let me go?” Natasha inquired with a sleek lift of one brow.

Ian’s lips twitched. “You needed the shot, so don’t complain. You can leave now, but you’ll have a hard time finding a taxi at this hour. My car service will take you home.”

“Thanks, that’s kind of you,” she said, grateful for his consideration.

“Are you still in pain?”

Natasha gave a half-shrug. “Not too much. I’ll take a painkiller when I get home if it feels worse.”

He handed her two prescriptions and written instructions. “Come back in a week for a recheck. I’m leaving for London tomorrow. Carla will give you an appointment with my partner, Dr. Delacorte.”

Natasha hid her disappointment. He didn’t intend to see her again? Ian was acting so detached, it made her nostalgic for the Ian of before—the young man who’d told her she was his first love, his only love. If he hadn’t been so dead set on making her leave everything behind to join him in Scotland, things would have worked out between them. It was ironic he was still in town.
All that time wasted apart.
He had been too damn proud and stubborn to take her calls afterward, making her withdraw and immerse herself full force in her career to heal the pain of their split.

“Tell me something,” she said, on impulse. “Why are you still living in New York when you were so eager to make Scotland your permanent home?”

A flash of annoyance hardened his features. "I intend to move back as soon as my clinic is ready. It’s taken longer than I’d planned,” he said in a strained voice.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear it,” she said softly. Natasha recalled his Aunt Maggie, whom she’d stayed in touch with over the years, telling her that Ian’s inheritance was still unresolved. Was it because of that?
Better not go there
. The shuttered look on Ian’s face silenced further questions.

Ian’s eyes narrowed on Natasha. She might sound concerned and have a kind heart, but there was no room in it for him. Her fair cheeks glowed pink and her wide blue eyes were clouded with disappointment, yet he felt no compunction to feed her curiosity. Not now, especially when reclaiming Glenhaven was so close at hand. 

The first time he’d set eyes on Natasha was when she’d visited from the States with her parents. She was a dreamy-eyed dazzler, recently graduated from Juilliard and ripe for romance. Ian’s father, Malcolm, and her father, Walter, had known each other since they were students at Oxford, but it was the first time Ian had met Natasha. From that moment on he couldn’t get enough of her. Her warmth and sparkling wit were just what he’d needed during the lowest point of his life when he’d learned many disturbing things about his late father. Drawn into the cocoon of her beautiful heart, Ian had immediately set out to keep her in Scotland as long as he could and make her fall in love with him as rapidly, and completely, as he had with her.

She’d stayed the whole summer and captivated not only Ian, but also his Aunt Maggie and Uncle Ranald, the caretakers of Glenhaven Estate. Tasha had embraced Scotland as if she’d always lived there. He had loved sharing his homeland with her and she’d been as delighted as a kid at Disneyworld. She’d wanted to explore every castle, sample the local food and fine Scottish whiskey and meet his friends and neighbors. By the end of that glorious summer, he wanted to keep her with him forever, but they embarked on a long-distance romance for two long years, taking numerous passion-filled trips back and forth while she performed in America and he finished his doctoral degree in biomedical science. The moment he graduated, he proposed and she accepted, tears of joy flowing down her cheeks.

Sharp desire made him shift his stance as he stared at Tasha, a stunning woman now. More enticing than ever.

“If anyone can solve this, it’s you, Dr. Who,” Natasha said, jolting him back to the present.

Ian stiffened at hearing her nickname for him and the teasing intonation in her voice.

“Don’t you remember I used to call you that?” she said, a soft smile playing at her rosy lips. 

“No,” he lied, looking away from her tempting mouth. Of course, he remembered. Tasha had loved the popular British sci fi show since she’d first seen it.

“I think you do.” The tiny dimple at the left corner of her mouth deepened seductively. It was the same dimple that had lured him to kiss her for the first time. Ian's palms grew damp while he scrutinized Natasha's face.
Still the face of an angel—a wayward one.
Her creamy complexion, flushed pink now, was framed by long, burnished copper curls. Luminous, curly-lashed blue eyes tantalized him, and her mouth, lush and pink, held his attention. It was the sweetest mouth he'd ever kissed—and the most deceptive. 

I want a chance to make it on Broadway. Theatre is my life. I love you, Ian, but I would be miserable without performing.
She’d said those words when she’d broken off their engagement—after telling him for months that she loved him and couldn’t wait to be his wife! He had offered his love and a wonderful life complete with a castle and servants in Scotland, but she had made an immediate about-face right after her controlling mother had interfered.

Anitra had flown to Glenhaven from New York the previous day to muck things up between them. He recalled their meeting as if it were yesterday. The witch had laughed mockingly in his face as she’d spewed hateful words.
Natasha needs to spread her wings. She's destined to be a Broadway star like me. You didn't really think she'd give up her career to marry you and move to Scotland, did you? To be a country doctor’s wife surrounded by sheep? My daughter adores the theatre, much more than she'll ever love you!

Ian had barely held onto his temper and hadn’t given into the urge to drag Anitra’s bony behind out of his castle for good. Unfortunately, her harsh words were confirmed the next day when Natasha ended their engagement—by phone. He’d never forget the feeling of being gutted by her and he wasn't about to waste another second trying to figure her out. Impatient to end their little visit, Ian took hold of her elbow and helped her down from the table.

“Does your mother know you’re injured?” he asked curtly.

“No, and I plan to keep it that way. I’m not the same girl you knew seven years ago. I’ve made it on my own,
without
Anitra’s help.” 

“Still not calling her mum?” he said with a shake of his head.

“Nope. As far as Anitra’s concerned, she’s too young to have a thirty year old daughter,” Natasha said ironically.

Ian snorted. “So that’s how it is. Pity that.”

"I don’t want to talk about Anitra. Can’t we make peace, Ian? Or are you going to continue scowling at me?"

Natasha’s gaze was direct as she waited for his answer. Now that she’d brought it into the open, he couldn't summon the initial bitterness he'd felt at seeing her again. He just felt empty inside. She had once held the deepest part of his heart and soul captive and he’d loved her ardently, but they had no future together. 

Ian headed toward the door and said, "Time to go, wee
nyaff
."

"Just a minute." Natasha grabbed his sleeve and faced him with fiery blue eyes as she tossed her flaming curls. "Don’t call me an irritating little person!" She thrust her chin up and smiled slyly. "
Dunderheid
," she retaliated, daring to insult him.

Ian stifled the rumble of caustic laughter rising in his chest. They hadn’t spent more than an hour together and they were already trading insults. Tasha had a way of getting under his skin and provoking him more than anyone else could, yet her quick wit never ceased to entertain him.

Striding out the door, he squashed the powerful urge to turn and grab the maddening redhead and kiss her senseless. And that wasn’t all he felt like doing.

Natasha stood in front of her apartment door and tried to shake off the profound yearning her visit with Ian had stirred in her heart. If she’d ever imagined them reuniting, he had dashed her last hope today. A wave of dread swept over her as she turned the key in the lock to enter her lonely apartment. The only bright spot would be her puppy waiting to greet her. She could hear Evita barking on the other side.

When she opened the door, Evita flung herself at her barking frantically. Startled, Natasha cradled her in her arms. “What’s wrong, baby?” she crooned, kissing the top of her furry orange head. “I’m sorry I’m late. You must be starving.”

Evita gave a shrill bark and convulsively jerked her little body back and forth. The second Natasha set her on the floor, Evita sprinted into the living room barking wildly. Natasha ran after her and caught a whiff of a putrid odor as she passed by the kitchen. She froze and her heart nearly stopped when she caught sight of her ransacked living room. Her sofa was turned upside down with the lining in tatters. The pale apricot silk wing chairs were upended, their shredded insides resembling linguini. Her treasured art and dance books formed a messy pile at the base of the built-in shelves. Even her ferns were tipped over, their dumped soil forming little hills on the wood parquet floor.

Rigid with fear, she racked her brain on what to do next. Check what was causing the foul odor in the kitchen? No way. It could be a dead body. Terror snaked up her backbone as she scooped up Evita and ran into the hall. She rode the elevator down to the floor below and got out in the hall as she dialed 9-1-1 on her smartphone. After she reported the emergency, they kept her on the line until two detectives arrived at her apartment.

She rode up the elevator and met them in the hall. "I’m so glad you’re here,” she said when she saw them..

“Ms. White, I'm Detective Carson,” a tall, fit woman in her late thirties said, “and this is Detective Peterson.” She indicated a young, athletic man with a blond buzz cut beside. They both flashed their police IDs. Neither wore a uniform, but they held guns.

“Stay out here,” Detective Peterson said. “We’ll check things and let you know when it’s safe to go inside.” Moments later, he stepped into the hallway. “You can come in now.”

“Thanks. I have to check my room,” Natasha said.

Detective Peterson nodded. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

On unsteady legs, Natasha entered the bedroom and gasped when she saw her queen sized mattress flung off the box spring and slashed like her living room furniture. Feathers were scattered everywhere, torn from the inside of her goose down pillows. She ran to the dresser and found her black lacquer jewelry box exactly where she had left it.

She set Evita down and opened the mother-of-pearl inset lid and exhaled a blast of relief when she saw the South Sea pearl necklace and earrings Ian had given her on their first Christmas together. With trembling hands, she lifted the jewelry out of the box. She slipped the pearl studs in her earlobes and placed the pearl choker necklace on her neck with a grateful sigh.

Why hadn't they taken her most valuable set of jewelry? There was no sign of forced entry and as far as she could tell, nothing of value had been stolen. Thank God, her laptop was where she always kept it, in the bottom zippered panel of her dance bag.

Natasha’s heart plummeted when she saw the reprint of Gustav Klimt's “The Kiss” in shambles beside the bed. The print wasn't valuable, but the shattered memories of when Ian had bought if for her made her terribly sad. Squatting beside it on the floor, she checked to see if there was any way to salvage it.

Detective Carson called out to her. “Ms. White, come to the kitchen."

As she approached the kitchen, Natasha smelled the foul odor again. She joined the officers and saw every cabinet open and her groceries and non-perishables strewn on the counters. She glanced in the sink and clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw a hunk of brownish green rotting beef. A metal skewer stuck out from the raw meat and brown blood seeped from the gaping hole. On the skewer a paper with letters glued on it said, “Fork it over or this will be you.”

Natasha gripped the kitchen counter as a surge of nausea made her gag. "I don’t get it. Why the raw meat?”

Detective Carson studied her gravely. "The Capelli family just staked your apartment as their property. The rotting beef is their trademark. Looks like they’ve targeted you.”

“Me? But why? I don’t even know them.” Natasha’s eyes ached and her head pounded as a million thoughts raced through her mind, none of them making sense. The only thing certain was that someone was out to get her and she had no idea why. Thank God, Evita was safe!

The officers exchanged a grim look and Detective Carson cleared her throat. "You'd better sit down," she said, righting a fallen chair for Natasha. “We’ve been investigating Tony Martin’s murder.”