Mind Games (3 page)

“That doesn’t mean we just give up.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound insensitive.” She smiled at him. “I was just hoping that maybe tonight we could spend more time together.”

She understood why he invested so much time and money into the Mobile Health Clinic. She admired his cause, but she sensed his deeply personal involvement. Yet he hadn’t opened up to her about why, and he wasn’t going to. That was obvious. She took comfort in knowing she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. What a way to start a relationship.

He smiled back. “No one said we couldn’t.”

She hitched a brow at him in question. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She had such a crush on him the couple of summers he was in Crystal Cove. Back then, he hardly noticed her, since she was three years his junior. What would a hottie like him have wanted with a fourteen-year-old girl? A gawky, plain fourteen-year-old girl.

Throughout dinner she attempted to use the chopsticks, and little did
he
know the food would have tasted just fine with a spoon or fork. Rats. She dropped another piece of chicken before making it to her mouth. At least this time it landed on her plate.

“Want another lesson?” He mocked her by clicking his chopsticks together.

“No thanks, I’ll get the hang of it.” She clicked her chopsticks back at him. “Aha, see, I’m catching on. Are your parents still living in Colorado?”

“Yep, in the same house for the last, gee, it must be twelve years.”

“Why didn’t they buy a place in Crystal Cove after the community build-out was finished?”

Derrick chewed and took a quick swallow of his iced tea before answering. She watched the dimple in the left side of his cheek pop. She found his dimples incredibly sexy.

“It’s complicated. In short, Crystal Cove was built for the elite, for those who wanted safety away from the city and suburbs of Los Angeles. It was a place where the residents were creating their perfect utopia, but you had to be among the very rich to own a home there.”

“Oh, I knew we were considered snobs, but you make us sound horrible.” She shook her head at him and squinted her eyes, disagreeing with his assessment of the place she called home.

“Now I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m not calling you a snob. My dad was a top-rate civil engineer. When his firm bid on the project, the next thing he and my mom knew, they were staying in California for at least another couple of years. My mom was not happy. They wanted to move and raise me and my sister in a
normal
place.”

“And yet here you are.”

“I have the best of both worlds. I can earn money as a concierge doctor to the wealthy, and that’s what helps me run the Mobile Health Clinic.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

*               *               *

“Hardly,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t ask him about his sister. As it was, it’d been a difficult day with Dana’s funeral. He wasn’t ready to get into a discussion about Kat.

“How many hours have you worked today?”

He glanced down at his watch with a fancy name he could barely pronounce. The one expensive luxury he had allowed himself. Dealing with the rich and not so famous had its perks. The downside was that he had to invest in some ridiculous timepiece after being embarrassed when a male patient commented on his…“knockoff” was the word he had used. The only satisfaction he had in dealing with such a pompous ass was using the money he made to help those who needed it the most.

“I’m not sure. I’m a doctor—after pulling twenty-four-hour rounds during residency, you’re taught not to keep track. We’re not like
normal
people who punch a time clock from nine to five.”

“Let’s try this: what time was your first patient today?”

“I was out in Hollywood around five this morning.”

Sparrow looked at the ticking clock on the kitchen wall, counting off hours on her fingers. The
tick, tick, tick
echoing from the second hand reminded him he’d work an even longer shift tomorrow. Since the food on her plate was gone, and she hadn’t taken seconds, he pushed his chair back from the table and started to clear it, folding cartons of chicken, rice, and vegetables and putting them into her refrigerator.

She rushed over to him, taking the carton of food in the crook of his arm. She shoved it into the fridge. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side. “Babe, I’m officially off rounds tonight.”

She tilted her head back and smiled at him. “Sweet. Let’s watch a movie.”

“What’s playing?” He kissed her forehead. From the look in her green eyes, he could tell she didn’t want to be alone, and neither did he. They’d both had a traumatic day.

He was ready to get cozy with Sparrow on her couch. Even in gray sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, she looked as tempting as a centerfold. He liked the way her ponytail swung back and forth when she moved.

“I just picked up this DVD with Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson.”

“Eye candy for two.” He flexed his eyebrows up and down.

She smiled at him and, with inviting eyes, grabbed his hand and led him into the living room.

Loud growling woke her with a start. She opened her eyes, waiting for her sight to adjust to the black room. A guttural, low moan startled her. She gasped. A heavy arm had swung around her body, pinning her to the couch. Her heart pounded. Slowly regaining her mental faculties, she remembered inviting Derrick to watch a movie and…

That was his arm around her body and his body making those loud sounds. They’d fallen asleep during the movie. She must’ve turned off the DVD player and TV in her sleep. She’d managed to put herself in an awkward predicament with Derrick. He would not be happy when he woke up and learned he’d missed his nightly rounds in the Mobile Health Clinic RV. He did say he was officially off rounds, though. She wasn’t about to rouse him from his deep slumber.

She’d risk it and let him sleep. She slipped out from underneath his arm. The night had chilled the room. She ran her hands up and down her arms and then grabbed the blanket draped over the corner of the sofa and placed it over him. Derrick moaned. He stretched out his legs down the length of the sofa. His six-foot frame sprawled out. He tossed one arm above his head and pulled the pink blanket around his neck with the other.

She crept into her studio, throwing a sheet over her latest project. For whatever reason, she was wide awake. She would have preferred to watch TV rather than read a book, but she didn’t want to take a chance and wake Derrick. Turning on her computer and surfing the net wasn’t appealing either. A cup of chamomile tea might make her drowsy. Rats. She couldn’t very well heat a kettle of water on the stove or a cup of water in the microwave without him hearing her. Not being able to sleep was the absolute worst. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but she was feeling jumpy about facing Derrick in the morning.

From the snoring sounds coming through the wall, she wondered how long he might sleep. He’d surprised her earlier when he made the decision to take the night off. She worried about his reaction when he woke on her couch. He didn’t like to miss his rounds. He never missed a night serving kids from the Mobile Health Clinic RV. But he needed sleep. Or maybe he was making slight adjustments to spend more time with her? She shouldn’t second-guess his decision. He wasn’t Dana. He wouldn’t wake up and go into a rage because he didn’t go out in the Mobile Health Clinic RV.

She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She’d try some relaxation exercises. She found her thickest yoga mat in the walk-in closet and rolled out the rubbery surface. Relaxing was difficult. Her mind drifted back to Derrick. Now she wished she’d stayed curled up next to him on the sofa. It could be days or even weeks before he spent the night again. She wanted to wake up next to him with his arm wrapped around her and gaze into his sleepy eyes in the morning.

Sitting on top of the yoga mat and fantasizing about Derrick was not helping her sleep. She lay down on her back and got into the common corpse pose; she turned her legs in and out, let her arms relax with her palms up at forty-five-degree angles, and gently rolled her head from side to side and back to the center. Mentally, she scanned her body from head to toe, releasing the tension; she concentrated on her breathing, listening to the sound of each inhalation and exhalation, pausing after each exhale. She imagined herself melting into the floor. She focused on the color blue. The dark blue mat was her ocean. The buoyancy carried her away.

*               *               *

Derrick rolled over onto his side, pulling the soft, perfume-scented blanket with him. The damp, drafty room and gust of salt-tinged air snuffed out his perfume-laced dream. He opened his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room then glanced down at the pink blanket with smiling dolls, confirming he wasn’t in his own bed.

He ran his tongue across his teeth, the thick taste of Chinese food evident along the recesses of his mouth. His neck had a kink in it and the rest of his achy body screamed he’d slept in the same position for hours. He rocked himself forward, swinging his legs around to a seated position. He pushed his hand through his hair and rubbed at his tired eyes. He’d slept longer than he’d anticipated.

Way to go, Dr. Sloan. How’d you ever get through med school?

Before he could berate himself any further, he realized two things. Sparrow was gone, and her front door was wide open. He tossed the blanket to the side and went to the front door, pushing it shut. The wind could have blown the unlocked door open. He walked to Sparrow’s room. His back and shoulders ached from sleeping on the couch. He couldn’t blame her for tiptoeing off to bed. He peeked inside. No Sparrow.

Had she gone out for an early morning jog and not properly closed the front door?

He looked at his watch again. It was nearly six o’clock. The sun gradually started to rise. Maybe she’d left him a note in the kitchen. He checked for one on the glossy marble-topped breakfast bar and then glanced over the kitchen countertops. Nothing. He rounded the corner of the breakfast bar, thinking she’d left a note on the dining room table. It was vacant. The wind could have caused the note to fall on the floor. He crouched down and looked under the table, forcing his hand under the raised claw-foot legs. His effort produced zero results. He was certain she wouldn’t have just left.

Suddenly something about that door being open didn’t sit well with him.

He searched for his shoes. When he found them, he plunged his feet inside and ran out the door. The cold air stung his lungs. He headed toward the beach, picking up his pace while his lungs and body adjusted to the damp, cool air. The muscles in his legs barely had time to warm up as he took off running toward the jogging paths, hoping to find Sparrow.

After thirty minutes, he grew concerned. She couldn’t have been gone that long. He stopped at a fork on the jogging trail. Would she have continued on the pristine, even path or would she have run off toward the beach? He hadn’t searched the beach for her, so he decided to give that a shot. At least he could follow the shoreline back to her oceanfront home and head her off if she was making her way back.

The muscles in his feet and legs screamed against the sand as he trudged along at a jog. The breeze coming off the ocean slapped him in the face, making it difficult to move swiftly. He pushed himself to run faster, harder, but his lungs trapped the salty and cold air. He thought every moisture-filled air sac would dry up until his lungs burst. Icy sweat trickled down his temples, running off at his chin.

In the distance he saw a woman. He took off with the stride of a sixteen-year-old at full sprint. Sand filled his shoes. His heart thudded in his chest and ears, keeping time with the crashing ocean waves. He drew closer and recognized her ponytail blowing in the breeze and the gray sweats she’d been wearing. When he reached her, he couldn’t catch his breath or open his mouth to speak. His lungs tightened, and his heart raced against the abrupt stop. Every organ in his body strummed. He lowered his head and rested his hands on his knees. He hunched over and choked in the cool air, coughing and feeling foolish, but grateful Sparrow was safe.

When she didn’t acknowledge him, concern washed over him. Why was she standing there staring out into the ocean? A cool breeze pelted his backside and whipped Sparrow head-on, making her clothes stick to the front of her body, and loose strands of hair fell around her heart-shaped face.

“Sparrow?”

Her red-rimmed green eyes remained distant and fixated on the ocean. He removed his hands from his knees and raised his head, gulping in a few more breaths, then moved directly into her line of vision. Tears streamed down her face.

“My God, what’s wrong?”

When she didn’t respond, he wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the blustery wind peeling off the ocean. She continued sobbing, her arms stiff at her sides. He took a step back and put her ice-cold hands in his. He searched her eyes for answers. From a medical standpoint, she appeared in shock.

He squeezed her hands, fully covering them to warm her. “What happened, Sparrow?”

Her eyes rolled up to look at him. He released her hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She appeared confused, distraught, anguished. He grabbed her wrist and checked her pulse. The beats were slow. He needed to get her home. He estimated her house less than a mile away. If he hadn’t taken off so fast he might have seen her sooner, but his mind and feet had taken him directly to the jogging path in search of her.

“Come on.”

He pulled her away from the water with some difficulty. She craned her head to look back at the ocean and struggled against his arms. He didn’t know if he had the strength to do it, but with all he had, he picked her up and carried her. She curled against his body like a child, resting her head on his chest. She’d easily given up the fight, and no longer resisted him.

She tilted her neck back and looked up at him. “I heard her calling my name.”

“Who?”

She squirmed and pointed over his shoulder.

“The girl in the ocean. She’s dead.”