The Way You Make Me Feel (4 page)

“Oh my God, you had to be shattered.” She reached over and pressed his hand, and her touch sent waves of hunger through him.

“I was in shreds. Went through all the bad stuff, boozing, chasing women, too little sleep. I looked like hell and felt like hell. I should have gone home to Minden, Maryland, but I couldn't let my family see me like that. You had always been kind, so I went by your house one night, knowing you were getting a divorce and misery loves company.”

He stopped for a moment then and touched her face. “You were my
savior,
Stevie. You took me in, tucked me in, made me stay the night and I've never had so much coffee in my life. You fed me and you kept me there for a few weeks while I dried out. And you talked to me about God and what it takes to make a life and how we go on no matter what. I gradually came to know how close I had been to killing myself, and I knew you were right. I had a life beyond Honi and damn it, I
was
going to go on. You saved me, Stevie, and I am forever in your debt.”

Stevie looked at him. “I did all that?”

“Sure did.”

“You're worth it and I'm glad.”

They stayed in the park talking for almost two hours, then went home. In his big music room, they inspected his fifteen guitars, six of them made by the famed English guitar maker, Tony Zemaitis. The guitars represented a small fortune. She reflected that her collection seen that day paled by comparison.

She picked up one of the Zemaitis guitars and stroked it. It had a shining pearl front and was truly exquisite. “My Zemaitises are so plain, just maple and a metal front,” she complained.

He laughed. “No Zemaitis is plain. Any guitarist would kill to get the simplest one. The pearlies—that's what the pearl fronts are called—are probably the most expensive…”

“And you've got six.”

“Yeah. Money's made to enjoy. Would you like to do some duets with me?”

“Could we do it later? I'm a little tired now and I want to think about Jessi and Nick's children, Rip and Mia. I didn't remember them, but I
want
to remember. I like you all so much.”

“I'm special, I hope.”

“Oh, yes, you're very special. Thank you for everything. It's as if I stepped from one life to another in one day. In a couple of hours I will have been with you one magic day.”

She stood close to him and he kissed her temple lightly. She had a lovely natural perfume and he would have liked to hold her, inhale her fragrance, but she said, “I'll go up now.”

“I put your bags in your room. Why don't you take a nap before dinner? We eat around seven.”

“I'll do that.”

Upstairs in Damien's bedroom, Stevie stripped to her slip and lay down. The new underwear was fabulous and she stroked it. The new watermelon-colored robe lay on the bed. She would unpack her bags later. She had put the photos of Rip and Mia beside her pillow and she studied them, closing her eyes to envision past scenes, but none came. Jessi had said Rip would be disappointed that she didn't remember him, and she didn't want to disappoint him. Damien had said she had no children, but she had these two children of friends and her memory just had to do its work.

But she found trying to remember exhausting, so she thought about the past night and day. How long had it been since any man had held her, kissed her, gone into her body? Damien had said she was divorced for six months before she went away. She'd stayed away a year and been back six months. Had she dated during that time? He hadn't said. Now she only knew she was hungry—no,
ravenous
—and Damien made that hunger even deeper.

She wrestled again with her memory and some things came clear, but nothing she really cared about. She fell asleep, still trying and dreamed of a picnic where she frolicked with a man and a woman, a gangling teenaged boy and a baby girl. They were on the sand at the edge of the water and they were all wet. A warm sun was shining. “Hey, Dad,” the boy had challenged, “a game of tag?”

“I'll show you tag,” the father said as the boy touched him and went racing. The woman looked at her and smiled, handed her the baby. “Here, hold her. You'll be holding one of your own one day.”

Stevie had taken the baby and held the cotton-soft body to her bosom, wondering if she would ever hold her own child. On coming barely awake, she knew these people, knew them as certainly as she had ever known anyone. They were Nick and Jessi, Rip and Mia and she felt unbounded joy. It was a recent happening. That much she remembered, but she had so far to go.

Someone was knocking. She quickly sat up, pulled on the robe and went to the door where Damien stood.

“I just wanted to make sure you're all right. Hey, you look so happy!”

She was bursting with glee as she told him, “I remembered! Oh, Damien! I dreamed a long dream and I remembered Jessi and Nick and their two kids. That's a
start
.” She couldn't stop herself from hugging him then, and he thought she fitted into his arms as though she belonged there. But Damien thought he, too, had had it with love, and he wasn't sure he would ever love again.

Stevie had come to him looking like a half-drowned waif the night before. Beautiful women had always been his meat. Beautiful, Stevie wasn't. Alluring? Maybe. Love wasn't on his menu anymore. Then why was his heart slamming against his ribs like a loose board on a shack whipped by a hurricane? He
owed
her, that was it. But he gently closed the door and his arms tightened around her. He turned her so that she was against the door and he pressed her hard against that door.

Her body melded into his as wild thrills shot through them both. His erection was hard against her and she held her breath as he kissed her very softly at first, then with increasing passion. His tongue went into the warm, sweet hollows of her mouth and his hot mouth grew steadily more savage with hunger and with need. He groaned her name aloud. His thumb pad kneaded her jawline, then he traced her lips as he pulled his mouth away.

She was half fainting and totally yielding, and he thought he knew what her body would be like crushed against his aching flesh, his hardness pressing into the softness of her. He thought he knew damned well it was more than sex he felt, but it wasn't love. It would be a long time before he could let himself love again, if ever.

Then he was kissing her again and she clung to him as if she were drowning and only he could save her. Her body flamed with desire, and passion unlike any she had ever known swept through her, filled her very soul. She stroked his biceps feverishly, feeling the muscles ripple and his hard abs and pecs against her.

He felt all the old feelings, plus new desires, new hungers that gripped him. He was going sky-high with wanting her and it had never hit him quite like this before.

Her body was ripe—like luscious sweet summer fruit—and she set his senses reeling. Would she let him into her body if he pressed her hard enough? He was nearly blind with wanting her, but she had been traumatized and no way was he going to take advantage of her. So he drew back, groaning inside.

He kissed one corner of her mouth. “You pack quite a wallop, lady,” he told her.

She was breathless, her heart drumming. “Did you ever kiss me before?”

He laughed then. “No. If I had, I'd have been more prepared for this. You're sweet, Stevie. Damned sweet. I wish I'd fallen in love with you, not Honi.”

So he still loved Honi, Stevie thought. So much for her pipe dreams of Damien. She wanted him to keep holding her and it was painful to have him pull away.

“It's just as well,” she said sadly. “If Jake McGowan was my husband, I can't trust myself to know what's best for me.”

“You were young when you married, and the way Jake pursued you was the talk of Nashville.”

“Is he as bad as he seems?”

Damien smiled. “I'd say he's worse, but then I don't like the way he treated you.”

“Still does. The things he said at the table today were totally unnecessary.”

“Yeah. Enough about Jake. You and I have things to talk about. You're here for a while, so we'll be together.”

“Sure. A song keeps coming into my head. Just the first two verses. I want you to tell me what you think. I might need your help.”

“You used to ask me about your songs.”

And for the second time that day, what he said was a trigger. She saw herself talking earnestly with Damien in the past, felt his interest. Now she told him about that.

“You're certain,” he said, as another kind of excitement raced through him. “It's so soon.”

“Dr. Winslow said it could all come back fast or slow. Yes, I'm certain.”

He hugged her again, but lightly. He didn't want to be engulfed in flames again. He would kiss her again, he knew, and he couldn't help still wanting her now. She had brought romance and something like love into his life again with her softness and her tender ways. Trouble was he wasn't sure he ever wanted to go that route again.

 

He stretched out on the luxurious bed and tamped out a cigarette in the big ashtray beside him. He really ought to stop smoking in bed, he thought, but he liked living dangerously. Then he smiled. So the bitch had lost her memory. Lady Luck couldn't have been kinder.

He'd thought it would be easy to kill her. She walked alone. But she was surrounded by people these days. Damien never seemed to let her out of his sight. The sheriff's men patrolled the area around Damien's house. He had to be careful because prison was not right for him. Right after Bretta's death he bought the gun and the special silencer. Bretta. Another big mouth.

One thing was for certain, Stevie Simms knew too much. She'd seen him kill Bretta and she had to die. He should have taken the chance and chased her down in the woods that night.

He had a master plan. Haunt her with little things. Threatening phone calls, faxes, notes. Not many, but enough to keep her on notice that she was in his crosshairs. He felt absolutely certain that the time would come when she was alone and available for death and he intended to be right there. It had to be soon because lost memories returned and when hers did, she'd babble and his goose would be cooked. He grinned at the thought of Stevie lying dead.

“N
ow who could that be visiting so early?” Cina wondered aloud as she and Ben moved about the kitchen while Stevie and Damien sat just finishing breakfast. She went out and came back moments later escorting Detective Ralph Rollins of the Sheriff's Department. A tall, red-faced man with bright blue eyes, stooped shoulders and a worn face, the detective was somber this morning.

“Morning, folks,” he greeted them.

“Pull up a chair and have a bite of breakfast. You look hungry to me,” Damien told him. “Cina made great hash browns and country sausage this morning.”

The detective thought for a moment. “Yes, I think I will, but I've got a lot of talking to do with you. I like my coffee black.” He looked at Stevie keenly. “First, ma'am, I want to offer my sympathy for your memory loss. Folks say somebody beat you up. I'll want to hear all about that.”

Stevie shook her head. “Things
do
get twisted when they're passed around. I don't remember what happened, but I think I just fell. At least I came to lying beside a big stone in the woods. But I was very, very frightened. I don't remember being attacked, but then I don't remember much anyway.”

“You look well, so you're recovering fast and I'm glad. I came by for that and I came to ask you if you've seen Ms. Bretta Evans. Her sister's put in a missing person's notice on her, so we're looking. But then, if your memory has gone, you wouldn't know…”

That name again, Stevie thought, but by now she was getting used to it and she didn't flinch. Her mind was going off on a tangent of its own.

“Jessi said she last saw her Sunday night when she came by the club,” Stevie told him.

The detective nodded. “We found your car about a half mile from your house. It was parked on a side road. You remember being there?”

“No.”

“I guess you wouldn't, but if you do, please let me know.”

“I'll do that.” Bands were tightening around her head.

Cina set the hot plate of food and coffee before the detective and he began to eat. After a few bites, he said, “Yeah, Ms. Colton told us she'd last seen her sister Sunday night. Said her sister told her she was having trouble with someone but she thought she could handle it.”

Stevie had gone away from the conversation and her eyes were suddenly glazed. “Bretta likes to get lost sometimes. I wouldn't worry too much.”

Both men looked up sharply. “Stevie, do you realize what you just said?” Damien asked.

“No, what?” When Damien told her, she put her hand over her mouth. Then she said, “I was thinking of something, someone.” Her breath came faster then. “If I said that, I remember at least something about this Bretta.”

Detective Rollins nodded. “I reckon so. She was your best friend.”

“So everyone tells me. I'm sorry I don't remember.”

“You can't help that, love,” Damien said and she started a bit. He had called her
love
again and it thrilled her. In the entertainment industry everyone used that word as loosely as they used the word
dear.
It meant exactly nothing; she was letting it mean everything.

Cina began smiling. “You eat like a hungry man, Detective. Let me get you seconds.”

The detective shook his head. “I've got to watch my weight, but I'll be grateful for another cup of java. This is the best I've tasted lately.”

In a minute the detective had the coffee and he pushed himself back a little from the table and began speaking in earnest. “I keep thinking you could have been attacked. We've found both yours and Ms. Evans's cars but still can't seem to locate Ms. Evans. I also came by to tell you Keith Muncy is out of prison and you need to be careful. You testified against him and your and Ms. Evans's testimony that he attacked her put him behind bars. He shot off his mouth a lot in prison about how he intended to pay you both back. Informants told us, but they weren't specific enough.”

Stevie nodded. “Thank you for telling me. I don't remember him, but what you tell me gives me a glimmer of what he's like.”

“Do you remember anything?”

Stevie looked at Damien. “I remembered some things yesterday and images hang in my mind, disembodied images that I can't connect. I'm seeing a psychologist every day for a few days, then several times weekly. I've only seen him once, yesterday, but he's good and I'm progressing already. In the beginning, I couldn't bear to hear anyone speak Bretta's name. Now I can say it and that's moving fast.”

For just a moment, she thought about her joy at remembering Jessi, Nick and the children, and Damien's rewarding kiss. She hunched her shoulders a bit as warmth filled her.

The detective sighed. “Then there's your ex, the almighty Jake McGowan. If you don't remember, I'll tell you, he has it in for you because the United States government is on his tail for tax evasion and racketeering. You were his wife long enough to know where all the bodies are buried and you are scheduled to testify against him this October. The prosecutor has sworn to send him up for a very long time and Jake isn't a man who would thrive in prison.”

Stevie's breath came faster then and images crowded her as small chills ran the length of her body. Why? Damien looked at her closely. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I'm fine.” She turned to Detective Rollins. “I met Jake McGowan at Club Insomnia yesterday. I don't like him. I think he's a cruel man.”

Detective Rollins nodded. “That's putting it mildly. I'm thinking about how he roughed you up a few times and you had him arrested and I talked with you…”

“I wouldn't remember.” She thought she
did
seem close to memories of people she liked.

“And it wasn't too long before you left him,” Detective Rollins said. “As I look back, you had to fight him for your divorce, but you got it. Now, you got your hands full with him and Muncy. Let me know whatever happens and I'm on top of it. I came to admire you a whole lot for the way you stood up to both those clowns and I'll help you in any way I can. You're lucky, too, to have a man like Damien on your side.”

Stevie glanced at Damien. “I know I am, but we go back a long way.” She knocked on the wooden table edge. “Thank God for that.”

Detective Rollins didn't stay long and when he'd left, Stevie asked Damien, “Could we leave a bit early for my appointment with Dr. Winslow? I want to stop by a drugstore and pick up some things. Makeup. Cologne. Stuff like that.”

Damien smiled. “Sure, but you don't…”

She waited for him to finish and when he didn't she asked, “What were you going to say?”

He shook his head. “One day I'll tell you.” He'd been going to say that she didn't need cologne because she smelled so good naturally. Like her, he thought about the kiss and his eyes narrowed. He wanted it to happen again.

His face got somber then. “That's bad news about Muncy being out. I was at his trial. He and McGowan are two of a kind.”

Stevie's shoulders stiffened. “I may not remember my past just now,” she said, “but I know this about myself—I'm not running scared. I
do
remember something about my parents and the kind of folks they were. They taught me to stand up for myself and I've got people like you to stand up for me. And Detective Rollins…”

“And a lot of others,” Damien said. “Now let's get a move on. We've got
mucho
ground to cover. After the doctor checks on your head and you see Dr. Winslow, I have to meet with a young guy I want to record with us. I'll treat you to a fabulous late lunch.”

Upstairs, as Stevie dressed she thought about Jessi, Nick and the children coming by unexpectedly the night before. Rip had been overjoyed when she'd said she
did
remember him after all. He had hugged her for a long time. Holding the precious two-year-old, her heart had filled with wonder. When she had asked Damien if she had children, there had been something in his eyes when he'd answered—compassion, but something else she couldn't fathom.

The Coltons hadn't stayed long and they had made plans to see each other again soon. As they were leaving, Jessi said, “You seem relaxed here with Damien. He's a great guy and I'm glad you're here.”

“I'm glad, too. He's one of the best.”

Jessi hadn't mentioned Jake and maybe she didn't know about Keith Muncy.

 

Dr. Winslow was all smiles as he looked at Stevie. “Lord, you're recuperating from your physical injuries with the speed of light,” he told her. “Let's hope the mental and emotional side goes as swiftly. Do you still think you need Damien in here with you? You were really shaken yesterday.”

Damien cleared his throat. “I believe it might go better if you saw her alone.”

“I'm thinking that, too,” the doctor said. “What do you think, Stevie?”

Stevie looked from one man to the other and licked dry lips. She wanted to do everything she could to get her memory back so she said softly, “I'm willing to try it alone, but I may need Damien to come in.”

“I'll be right outside.”

Stevie felt more relaxed from the beginning. When she mentioned this, Dr. Winslow said, “I think that's because you're really eager to get this show on the road. You had a checkup this morning. How did that go?”

“The doctor said he was amazed at how much the swelling on my head has gone down. I go back Friday and he'll do more X rays. He just wants to make certain.”

She told him then about remembering Jessi, Nick and their children and he was visibly enthusiastic. “Just relax,” he said, “and let it all come to you. It
will
come.”

“Detective Rollins came by this morning to tell me that a man named Keith Muncy is out of prison. He says this man is threatening me because I testified against him in his trial for attacking his wife—” She hesitated here before she said very softly, “Bretta.”

The doctor looked at her. “You said the name and you don't seem to me to be frightened. Do you know
why
you're not frightened now?”

“No. I'm just not.” But she thought the fact that Damien had kissed her made all the difference. He liked her a lot, always had. So what if it was never to go any deeper? She needed friends and he was a friend. But that kiss was precious and private, and she wasn't going to share it with Dr. Winslow, or anyone.

Dr. Winslow clasped his hands in front of him. “You're so much better and I want to move quickly on this. It will be to your advantage. Have you thought about this one thing you can't and don't seem to want to remember, can't bear to see?”

“A little.” She wasn't aware that her voice was faint.

“I want you to lean back and close your eyes. Focus on what happened just before you fell on that stone,
if
you fell. Gently ask your mind to tell you what happened. It
will
cooperate with you. Please go ahead.”

Stevie did as he requested and at first she closed her eyes, and in a daze saw a mass of shapes in the brilliant moonlight. Then no sooner had she seen the shapes than they began to metamorphose into a tangled ball of orange-red and got smaller and smaller. She cried out then and violently came to her senses, looking wildly around her.

The doctor sat forward, looking at her. Why didn't he comfort her? Should she call for Damien? He would comfort her.

“What did you see?” the doctor asked softly.

She gave herself a long time to answer. She was
determined
to do this. She owed it to herself and she owed it to Damien who had put himself completely at her disposal.

She described to the doctor what had happened and he bit his bottom lip. “The mind always protects itself. We'll let this go for the moment and talk of other things, but we'll come back to this. Are you willing?”

“Yes. I'll do anything I can. I want my life back.”

“Good. Now you mentioned this man who you've been told has threatened you. This frightens you?”

“Some, of course, but I won't run scared. Detective Rollins said I testified against him when he attacked my friend, his wife. And I testified against him again at the divorce hearing. He blames me and he blames his ex-wife for his prison time. Dr. Winslow, as you know, I also have an ex-husband…”

Dr. Winslow smiled grimly. “The monster.” He remembered her free association of the day before.

“I met him yesterday at Club Insomnia, a nightclub I'm told I'm part owner of. He's a very nasty man, and I think he hates me. Detective Rollins told me I'm set to testify against him in his tax evasion trial this October. Apparently I have a lot of guts.”

She stopped for a long moment. “Something on a different subject. I sing on Thursday nights at Club Insomnia. I want to start singing again as soon as possible.”