Never Too Rich (50 page)

Duncan grinned. “My girl’s famous. How does it feel
to be recognized?”

Billie tossed her head, flipping her satiny
waist-long hair back in that way she had. “Quite honestly, I don’t
know if I really like it.” She frowned thoughtfully. “It’s rather
disconcerting, since it puts me on an odd sort of footing. These
people all know who I am, but I don’t know who they are.”

“
You’ll get used to it,” he
laughed. “Celebrity has its fringe benefits.”

They ducked into a shop specializing in terrines,
then visited the New York Doll Hospital, and popped into II Papiro,
where Billie bought Duncan a hand-marbleized calendar book. At the
Lowell Gallery he purchased a much-sought-after unframed first
printing of an advertising poster. “For my office,” he’d told her
as the salesman rolled it up and packed it carefully in a cardboard
tube.

They had just come out of the shop and were waiting
at the curb for the light to change when two middle-aged women next
to them stared blatantly at Billie.

“
Billie Dawn?” one of them
ventured, and then turned to the other. “My God, Ethel! It’s her!
It’s Billie Dawn, the model! In person!”

Billie’s lips quivered at the corners.

“
You’re even more beautiful in
person!” the woman gushed. “Could you . . . I mean, we’re visiting
from Chicago, and . . . I have this month’s
Harper’s Bazaar
right here . . . could you autograph the cover?”

“
Sure.” Billie forced a smile and
scrawled her signature. Then the pedestrian light changed and
Duncan adroitly helped her escape.

Billie’s face was puzzled. “Did you see the way they
stared? You’d think I was Elizabeth Taylor! Imagine. Someone asking
me
for an autograph!”

“
You’re worth twenty Liz Taylors,”
Duncan said loyally, “and you’re lovelier too.”

“
That’s right, keep it up,” she
teased, her eyes bright. “Spoil me rotten.”

“
Filthy
dirty
rotten.” He
grinned. “And that’s a promise!”

She laughed and gave his arm a squeeze. “I’ll hold
you to it.” She shook her head teasingly, and added, with mock
clucks of her tongue, “Poor Doc. You’ll have your hands full.”

Soon they arrived at Gino’s for an early, leisurely
dinner.

“
Oh, Doc!” she breathed, her eyes
inspecting the dining room in one long sweep. “This place is
delightful!”

And it was. The restaurant had radiant white
tablecloths, red wallpaper with frolicking zebras, and
maroon-rimmed china. Also, a devoted clientele.

The maitre d’ knew a drawing card the instant he saw
one. Nothing filled a dining room quite like a celebrity—especially
an eye-popping, drop-dead beauty of a celebrity. Bowing
deferentially, he murmured, “If you will follow me, please,” and
proceeded to lead them to the best and most visible table in the
house. After lavishly pulling out a chair for Billie, he summoned a
small army of waiters and busboys with a single click of his
fingers.

“
You see?” Duncan said. “What did I
tell you? Celebrity hath its privileges.”

“
One,” she laughed, nothing but her
extraordinary eyes visible above her menu. “It gets us a good table
without reservations.”

“
It’s a start. Maybe from now on we
should eat every meal out.”

“
Silly man!” She leaned across the
table and punched him playfully.

They were so tuned in to each other that neither was
aware of eating the unrivaled pasta segreta, the
fresh-from-the-oven slices of crusty Italian bread, or sipping the
superb fruity red wine. It was their eyes that feasted—on each
other.

Later, when they returned to the town house, they
unpacked the Staffordshire whippets in Billie’s second-floor
room.

“
I want you to put them in the spot
of your choice,” she told him.

Duncan didn’t need to give it any thought. “How
about right here?” He set one at each end of the elaborately
carved, massive marble mantel. After adjusting them slightly, he
stepped back and eyed them critically, checking to make sure they
were placed symmetrically. Satisfied that they were, he handed her
the cardboard tube containing the antique advertising poster.

She looked puzzled.

“
I lied,” he confessed with a
smile. “I didn’t buy it for the office. I got it for
you.”

“
Oh, Doc!” She was overcome by his
generosity. “You’re so good to me!” she said softly, her eyes
glowing like aquamarine lasers. “I only wish,” she added huskily,
“I could be as good to you.”

His eyes locked on hers. “You are, dammit!” he
growled.

“
Doc?”

“
Later, Billie, later.”

Putting his arms around her, he drew her to him,
then raised her face to his by pushing up on her chin with a gentle
finger. “Billie, my Billie.” His breath was like hot perfume
against her lips.

A wonderful tremor passed through her, and he began
kissing her lightly. Once. Twice. A dozen times. All tender little
nips.

A sense of soft, yielding love she had never before
experienced took hold of her. Urgently now she returned his nipping
kisses, and then his arms tightened around her and his mouth closed
completely over hers.

His lips were electric, his tongue fiery
quicksilver.

She shut her eyes and dug her fingernails into his
shoulders. She was smoldering, as if something at the very
epicenter of her being had ignited. Oh, if only she had experienced
these loving wonders instead of sexual violence! If only she had
met
him
long ago! If only every man on earth were like her
Doc—

His lips moved from hers and her eyes flew open.
What
. . . ? She looked at him in surprise, wanting—no,
needing—to continue feasting on his love. But the taste of him . .
. Ah, she still had the fruity, masculine taste of him to savor on
her tongue. And they were still locked in their embrace, standing
there looking intensely at each other.

The air inside the room seemed suddenly heavier.
Warmer and more humid. Fragrant with overpowering musk. Sparklers
and pinwheels and fiery chrysanthemums exploded invisible
pyrotechnics only the two of them could see.

Tentatively she lifted a hand and stroked his lips
with a fingertip.

He held on to her. “I love you, Billie,” he said
quietly.

“
And if you only knew how much I
love you!” She rested her head against his chest, and through his
shirt she could hear the throbbing, quickened hammering of his
heartbeats . . . could feel the racing of his pulse . . . could
almost sense the roaring of his blood as it rushed through his
arteries and veins.

All her senses seemed heightened.

“
Billie,” he murmured, his words
soft, warm gusts of breath. “My Billie.”

Locking her arms around him, she raised her face and
stared up at him, seeing her tiny reflection in his eyes. “My Doc.”
Her voice was a wonder-filled whisper.

He bent down to kiss her again; her twin reflections
growing in size. She shifted against him and parted her lips
eagerly.

This time his kiss was deep and urgent. There was an
acute concentration behind it, a lusty appetite, and she could feel
his breathing accelerate, triggering her own thirst for him.
Hungrily her tongue explored and probed the soft succulence inside
his mouth. How gluttonous and sustaining, this kiss! What rapture
it induced! And what miracles it wrought: through her clothes she
could feel the unmistakable demand inside his trousers swell until
it strained the fabric and pressed against her hips.

She caught her breath sharply and felt herself
shudder, then let her eyes close and pushed her pelvis against
his.

The pressure intensified his hardness.

Her heart swelled and soared and filled to bursting.
Oh, God! How she loved it! How she loved him! How she
needed
him! How—

Without warning, her mind fractured. The flashback
thundered in. Hellish images spewed up out of her subconscious,
obliterating everything else.

Strong rough hands seized her—bruising hands like
claws and vises. . . .

The vision was so graphic and real that she jerked
under the impact and gasped.

Then she realized: hands were clutching her
now.

Dear God!

Billie Dawn clamped her mouth shut, unaware of
piercing Duncan’s lip and drawing blood; she did not hear his
startled cry of pain. And
still
the images came at her,
streaking through her mind like tracer bullets in the dark.

Countless hands pulled . . . yanked . . . jerked her
naked legs wide . . .

. . . Reeking armpits smothered her face; thick
hairy elbows pinned her viciously across the throat and belly . .
.

. . . Nearly choked her . . .

. . . Rendered her helpless . . .

. . . And then one smelly animal after another
mounted her, tore her apart as she screamed and screamed in sheer
agony. . . .

Cold shock froze her body, momentarily shut down her
awareness of reality. Suddenly she could no longer breathe. The air
in the room was foul and fetid and without oxygen, filled only with
the stench of stale beer and unwashed bodies.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she shoved Duncan
away, pummeling him with blurring fists while staring at him with
wild horror.

“
No!” she screamed. “No! Please . .
.
don’t!
DON’T!”

“
Billie!” His voice, gentle yet
urgent, tried to reach beyond her terror.
“Billie!”
Heedless
of her flying fists, he didn’t try to grab her by the arms or
wrists to subdue her, but embraced her even more tightly. “For
God’s sake, Billie! It’s me! Duncan!”

Duncan.

Doc.

Her Doc.

Her pummeling fists froze in midair and her
expression slowly changed. She frowned. “Doc . . . ?”

“
That’s right.” He forced his voice
to sound light and cheerful. “Me, in the flesh. Ain’t no one else
here.”

The relief that flooded her face was painful to see.
Almost instantly the nightmare images dissipated and reality
rearranged itself. The fear on her face was gone, and she began to
cry quietly.

“
Billie . . .” he said
softly.

“
I’m sorry!” she sobbed. “Oh, Doc,
I’m so sorry!” She clutched him tightly and buried her face in his
chest. “It’s just that ever since—”

“
It’s okay, Billie,” he whispered,
stroking her head lovingly. “I understand. You don’t have to
apologize for anything.”

She raised her face and looked up into his. “But I
do!
ⁿ
Her cheeks were streaked with
wet rivulets. “Don’t you see? I love you, dammit! And I want to
make love to you! I want us to share everything a man and a
woman—”

“
I know,” he interrupted gently
with a tender smile.

Her eyes were still on his, and her voice grew
hushed. “You’re the last person on earth I’d ever want to
disappoint. You know that, Doc!”

Duncan looked into her upturned face. He felt a
painful twisting inside his gut. He could feel all the pain and
terror she’d been subjected to, as if he had suffered them himself.
His voice was tight. “Billie, can’t you understand that nothing you
do or don’t do could ever disappoint me?”

She stared back at him in silence.

“
You’ve been terribly wounded,” he
said, “physically as well as emotionally, and recovery takes time.
Rape isn’t something you undergo and then wake up from, cured,
overnight. It isn’t like getting rid of a head cold. Maybe I am
just a glorified cosmetician, but I am a doctor too.” His voice
went hoarse and his eyes were gentle pools of knowledge. “I
understand these things.”

“
Yes, but . . . it’s been so long
since I . . . and we’ve never . . .” She gestured with her
hands.

“
Forget about it. The physical part
of our relationship can wait. In time, I know it will
come.”

He smiled reassuringly, giving no indication how
much effort it took for him to will the wild beating of his heart,
and the fiery passions in his loins, to die down. He placed his
hands on her shoulders in a brotherly fashion.

“
Besides,” he added, “what’s wrong
with waiting a little while longer? Love makes time relative, or
didn’t you know?”

Chapter 52

They sat silently for a long time, each deep in
thought, each aching for the other. But his words and restraint had
released some of the tension inside her. He could even see a faint
smile beginning to tremble at the corners of her lips. “You sound
just like my shrink,” she finally said.

“
That,” he told her, “I’ll take as
a compliment.” Then he made a production of studying her
tear-streaked face. Abruptly he frowned.

“
What is it?” she asked
worriedly.

“
The way you look. We will have to
do something about those tears.”

“
God, I must look a mess!” She
reached up to wipe her face.

“
No!” he said. Gently he took her
by the wrists and pushed her hands down to her sides and held them
there.

She watched him warily, puzzled.

“
Let me,” he whispered.

Her eyes went wide and she sat absolutely still as
his face moved closer to hers. And then he was touching his lips
lightly to her skin, chastely kissing away the trail of each moist
tear.

The feel of his lips made her start trembling all
over again.