His Golden Heart (15 page)

Victoria drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. The van swerved. Another car whizzed by them, tooting its horn.

“No, I don’t think so. My rentals are pretty pricey.” She gazed out the window, making the van veer to the right. The driver in the lane next to them gave her the finger. “No, that face has been in the newspapers possibly even on television.”

When the car in front of them braked, Beau jolted forward. “Keep your eyes on the road, Mother,” he cautioned.

Victoria turned and glared at him. “Would you like to drive?”

“No.”

“Good, then keep your mouth shut”

“Look,” Beau said, “Shayna’s brother’s in trouble. Dad’s the prosecuting attorney. The newspapers and television probably ran pieces on the family, complete with photos. That’s probably why you think you’ve seen Shayna before.”

There was a moment of silence while Victoria thought about it. “Which of your father’s cases are we talking about?”

Beau repeated what Mohammed had told him.

“You mean that punk Reggie’s Shayna’s brother? That boy committed a heinous crime. Shayna knows who you are but continues to work with you?”

“I don’t know that she does. She’s never brought up the case, nor has she said a word about Dad.”

“Trust me, as high profile as you and your father are, she’s bound to have heard.”

“Was,” Beau said softly. “I’m no longer high profile.”

“Yes, you’ve turned into chopped liver overnight. Woe is me,” Victoria muttered. “Poor Beau.”

Beau reined in his temper. Maybe it was time for him and his mother to put some distance between them.

“What would Shayna’s motives be for pretending she didn’t know?” he asked. “Eventually it would have to come out.”

“By then my son might have fallen in love with her. He’d be putty in her hands.”

“Mother, you’re being ridiculous.”

“We’re here,” Victoria announced, unperturbed. “Ask your therapist and see what she says. I’ll be back to get you in an hour.”

Victoria slammed the door of the van after Beau had wheeled himself out.

“I think I’ll take a taxi home,” Beau threatened.

“Suit yourself,” Victoria said, waving him off.

* * *

Shayna tapped her foot nervously. She’d been waiting for Beau to get out of that changing room for how long now?

Knowing she had aquatic therapy scheduled, she’d taken extra special care to select the one-piece bathing suit she was wearing. Midnight black, and cut high on the thighs, it gave the illusion she had lots of leg.

Shayna smiled. When you were this petite you needed every advantage. Tank suits tended to make her look like a child. She wanted to be taken seriously, to be viewed as a woman. Why was it suddenly so important? Didn’t she know who she was?

She tied a towel low on her hips, sarong style, and stretched out on a lounge chair. The pool was hers and Beau’s for the next hour, and she planned on putting him to work. He’d been in an ornery mood when he’d first arrived and had responded to her greeting tersely.

She wondered what that was all about, and had asked if he’d needed help changing, but her offer had been turned down. What on earth had happened to the teasing young man who a couple of nights ago had invited her and Reggie over this Sunday?

Shayna glanced at her watch. Beau was taking an awfully long time to get changed. What was keeping him?

“Beau,” Shayna called, “can I do something to help?”

A muffled grunt came from somewhere inside came at her.

“Beau, is something wrong?” Shayna called even louder.

Another muffled expletive wafted its way out. Shayna’s heart pounded. Something was definitely going on.

“I’m coming in on the count of ten,” Shayna shouted, starting a slow countdown. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” More groans.

Forget about counting, something needed to be done. Fifteen minutes had already elapsed since he’d been inside. There would be no one else in the changing room; the place was still theirs for the next forty-five minutes.

“Hold on, Beau,” Shayna said, rushing through the curtained entry.

The groans came at her louder now. She picked up her pace. Beau was someplace back there, maybe to the right. She found him face down on the floor, pants tangled around his ankles.

“Are you hurt, Beau?” she asked, squatting down next to him, and quickly assessing the situation.

Determining there had been no harm done to his physical self, she tried to keep a straight face. He must have lowered his pants, and then struggled to get off his pullover. He’d probably leaned forward to remove his sweater and catapulted over. Off to the side his wheelchair sat angled. The scene could have been funny except for the fact that Beau was virtually helpless and sputtering angry words.

Shayna tugged the sweater over his head. “You didn’t answer me. Are you hurt?”

The moment Beau was able to see, he glared at her. Hypnotic gray eyes flashed daggers. “No, I’m not hurt.”

“Then you need to thank me,” Shayna said when their glances met and held.

“Don’t push it.”

She’d literally caught him with his pants down. A photo opportunity moment.

“Need help getting up?”

“I’ll manage myself.”

A mumbled oath followed, one Shayna chose to ignore. She laid her hand on Beau’s bare back. It felt smooth, broad, and muscular, chiseled out of thick, hard mahogany. Under his chinos he wore black gym shorts and his legs were covered with wiry dark hairs.

“You need help,” she insisted. “And I’m going to get it”

“No. No help.”

“I can’t pick you up. You’re too heavy.”

“I said, no. It’s embarrassing enough to be found like this.”

He was trying his best to roll over, but the tangled material at his ankles, got in the way.

“Hold still,” Shayna commanded. “Let’s at least get your trousers off.”

After tugging gently, Shayna was able to get Beau’s chinos off. Using his arms to support the bulk of his weight, he was able to half drag, half crawl toward his wheelchair.

Shayna, despite feeling awful, couldn’t take her eyes off him. The way his arm muscles bulged. The way his washboard stomach was covered with the same curly hair as his legs. Even in this vulnerable position he was a gorgeous male and tempting as hell.

Help him, Shayna. Help him.

“Maybe if I pick your legs up, wheelbarrow style,” she offered, moving the wheelchair closer.

Beau had somehow managed to seat himself on the floor. “Make sure it’s steady,” he said, pointing to his chair. “I’ll grab on to it and try to hoist myself up.”

His muscles had to be aching.

“It would be easier if you’d let me get somebody,” Shayna said, checking to make sure the brake was in position.

“You’re the only help I’m accepting,” Beau said, grunting and clenching his teeth. Beads of sweat poured down his forehead. “I mean it, Shayna,” he said, noticing she’d walked away. He tried to ease himself up. It was impossible.

“Put your arm around me,” Shayna commanded, returning and giving in to his request. It would require superhuman effort but she’d try.

With much grunting and groaning, they were finally able to get Beau seated again. In the process Shayna somehow ended up on his lap. She closed her eyes, catching her breath. Every muscle and sinew ached. Her back felt as if a thousand-pound man had been stomping grapes on it. Her neck hurt. She simply couldn’t move and needed to get her equilibrium back. She had her arms around his neck, heard Beau’s heavy breathing, and smelled sweat mingling with a spicy cologne. Pinpoints of light flashed behind her closed lids. The room tilted. Her breasts brushed against Beau’s chest. He stiffened. She heard his sharp intake of breath. Beau’s arms circled her waist. He covered her face with kisses.

“No” Shayna said, trying to get up. But her protest was cut short by another floor-tilting kiss, which made her head spin.

Heat radiated off Beau. There was a pulsing beneath her that reminded her he was still a man, and a very virile one at that. Rough chest hairs grazed her thin Lycra suit, creating friction, setting her breasts on fire. Spicy cologne and sweat melded with heat and passion.

Beau is a patient of yours,
a little voice reminded her.
This is wrong.

Then why did his probing kisses feel so right? Why did he have the power to release emotions in her she didn’t know existed?

Just give in to the feeling, Shayna. Go with the flow,
another voice said.

Beau’s hands were on her breasts. A ripple of longing rushed through her as his hungry tongue explored and demanded. Shayna accepted his tongue, joining him in an age-old dance that seemed to promise forever. If only that were the truth.

Kissing Beau was like kissing no other man she’d known before. It was a sensory experience, intimate, yet titillating. She was engaged in artful foreplay. She lit up inside, sizzled, and burned. Her entire body was on fire. He’d awakened in her a deep desire. But the timing was wrong, the man and place inappropriate.

“Beau,” Shayna managed.

“What is it, honey?”

His voice sounded deep, impassioned, and throaty.

“We’ve got to stop.”

Had he heard her? If so, he ignored her. The intensity of their kisses increased and his hand slid under the thin material of her bathing suit to stroke an already taut nipple. She groaned. Then good sense kicked in. Shayna fisted her hands and banged against his chest. “Let me go, Beau. Now.”

He went deadly still but abruptly released her.

“As you wish.”

She knew she had hurt his feelings. Trampled on his ego. But it was for the best. Beau was still a patient of hers.

Chapter Thirteen

Shayna’s kisses were like nectar from the gods. Sheer heaven. At first Beau did not register her fisted hands beating a rapid tattoo against his chest. Then he came to realize that the noises he heard were not expressions of passion but gasps of protests. Something was very wrong.

No woman had gotten to him as this one had. Not even Chandra, passionate soul that she was. Shayna’s kisses were sweet yet sensuous. Her small hands pressed against his chest and her tiny body on his lap made him feel protective and manly. How had it come to this?

Shayna’s sharp words penetrated. “Let me go, Beau. Now.”

He went deadly still. She’d seemed to be enjoying his kisses. His touch. She’d been keeping up with him.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Beau asked, holding her slightly away from him.

“I’m not your honey. I’m your therapist,” Shayna said churlishly.

“Could have fooled me.”

He would never understand women. There she was one minute kissing him as if there would be no tomorrow, now she wanted him to stop.

Shayna slid off his lap and straightened her bathing suit. Her face was still flushed and her eyes slightly glazed from their making out. “We’ve got exactly half an hour left of pool therapy,” she said firmly.

“You’ve got to be kidding?”

“I’m not.”

She stalked off. Beau followed more slowly in his wheelchair. He must have done something to turn her off. He couldn’t think what. By the time he’d caught up she was speaking into a wall phone.

“I’m going to need one of you to help me get Mr. Hill into the pool,” she said to someone on the other end.

How quickly things changed. He was Mr. Hill now.

Shayna hung up the receiver, refusing to look him in the eye. He wasn’t about to be ignored or put off. He wheeled himself closer.

“You want to tell me what this is about?”

“I’ve called someone to help get you into the pool. Be sure to hold on to the metal bars at the side when you’re in.”

Avoidance was going to be her technique. She’d been the person lecturing him about facing up to reality, dealing with what had happened. She’d spoken about moving on, accepting your lot in life and about not becoming complacent. She was the person who’d given him a book to read with motivational quotes like, “Yesterday is where it was… Today is where it is… Tomorrow is where it’s going to be.” Sure looked as though there would be no tomorrow for them.

Beau suddenly felt anger building. How dare she kiss him senseless, and then simply brush him aside?

“We need to talk,” he said, reaching out for her.

Shayna stepped back, avoiding his reach. “We don’t have time to talk.”

“Make time. You don’t just kiss a man passionately, and then order him to stop. You don’t get a person going, and then expect him to turn it off at a moment’s notice. I’m a man, Shayna, a man with needs.”

“That you are,” she said quietly. “And that’s exactly why we had to stop. You’re my patient I almost forgot that. I should never have let it happen.”

“So you’re saying it was a mistake?” Beau’s words were quietly spoken, each word clearly enunciated.

“You can call it that if you’d like. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” Removing her towel, she dove into the pool.