Paradise Found (17 page)

“Adam made a few comments that led me to believe he held out hope for a more personal relationship with me. I didn't want to hurt him by telling him I could never care about him that way, because of you, so I told him about my ex-husband. It just kind of came out as an avoidance tactic.” Sara sighed. “It didn't work. It took him about two seconds to figure out there was something going on between you and me.

“You still should have told me.”

He wasn't going to give her a break. “I realize that.”

“You should have realized it before you spilled your heart out to Adam.”

Anger gripped her and spilled out in her next words. “Since when did you become an expert on relationships?”

“I never claimed to be an expert, but I sure as hell know what destroys them.”

“Speaking from experience, I presume.”

He ignored the snide comment. “I never wanted one to work before and I'm starting to think I'm damn crazy for wanting one to work now.”

Had she heard him right? “What did you just say?”

“I said I think I'm damn crazy,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“No. Not that. The part about wanting this to work.”

“Nothing.” He looked in her direction and she wondered once again how a blind man could look into her heart, tear aside the curtains of her soul and peer inside.

“You said something about wanting to make this work. Do you, Matt? Do you want to make this…us…work?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Even when we're arguing, I want you by my side. I must be crazy.”

She moved to the side of the desk and put her arms around his neck. Leaning up on tiptoe, Sara planted a light kiss on his lips and whispered, “If it's any consolation, I feel the same way.” He smiled and bent his head to deepen the kiss. “If you want to talk about my ex-husband—”

He pulled her to him. “Not now.”

She welcomed him, pressing her body into his.

He brushed his lips over hers. “I want you.”

“What about your book?”

His laugh rolled over her. “Time for research,” he said, cupping her butt in the palm of his hands.

Oh, but she loved his touch. “The bedroom?”

“Too far away.” He took her hand and led her to his leather easy chair. Matt sat down and pulled her onto his lap. “Perfect.” His hands skimmed her bare legs, maneuvering under the thin cotton dress she wore to settle on the triangle of silk between her thighs. “These have got to go,” he said, shifting her hips and working the pale pink material down her legs.

His fingers found her heat, stroked, and made her squirm until she was tugging at his shorts and dipping her hand inside. “Take these off,” she whispered, fingering his briefs. With her still on his lap, Matt lifted his hips and pulled his shorts and briefs down. Just enough to free himself. Sara smiled. Just enough to touch him.

Just enough to drive him wild.

She gave his penis three long strokes. “Wait,” he rasped, reaching over to open the drawer of the small side table next to them. He pulled out a gold foil packet and held it up.

“Do you have these things all over the house?”

He grinned. “Every nook and cranny.”

“You horrible man.”

“Not horrible man. Horny man.”

Sara snatched the foil packet from his fingers. “Glow in the Dark Gold. What if Rosa found one of these? I'd never be able to face her again.”

“Don't kid yourself. If Rosa, the matchmaker, came across one, she'd probably stick it on your lunch tray, right next to your napkin and tell you to ‘Take care of Mister Matt.’”

“You really are horrible.”

“No.” He trailed a finger over the cotton covering her nipple. “I really am horny.”

“I think I've got a cure for that,” she whispered. She ripped open the packet and fit the gold shimmering latex on him. Then she stroked him again.

“I can't wait any longer.” He grabbed her hips and repositioned her body over his. “Not one second longer.” The tip of his penis touched her, teased her. With a low groan, he impaled her, filling her with raw pleasure and wild need. She moved her hips, sliding along his length, slow at first, then faster, giving herself up to pure sensation.

“It's too damn good,” he ground out. Sara felt his need pulsing through his body in quick jerky thrusts, his rapid shallow breathing fanning her ear.

She rode him harder, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons on his tanned skin. “Come with me, Matt,” she pleaded. “Come with me.”

He grasped her hips, pumping into her with long determined strokes, eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth set in a firm line of concentration. Sara closed her eyes and gave herself up to the feel of him possessing her.

“Sara,” he groaned as heat filled her body, sharp and intense, sending her fragmenting into oblivion. She collapsed against him and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

Matt pulled her closer.

This was where she belonged. Here, in his arms, with his breath washing over her, the beat of his heart thumping under her hand. Forever wouldn't be long enough to stay like this. Cradled. Protected.

Loved.

Loved?
Did Matt love her? Could he ever love her? Just her? And if he didn't? If he couldn't? The questions pulled at her, gnawing away hope and possibility like buzzards pecking their prey. Foolish, foolish, foolish, they nipped. So foolish to give your love. Again. They ripped a chunk from her heart.

Just like he was going to do.

“Sara?”

Matt's voice touched her, soothed her. Made her ache with the pain of loving him.

“No more secrets,” he said, stroking her hair. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she murmured, knowing even as she made the promise she couldn't keep it. Not until she knew whether Matt would view her love as a blessing or a curse.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Matt smiled, thinking that the words Sara had just yelled out in front of twenty-five thousand fans were the same ones she'd used last night. In bed.

“He got a double. Winning run's at the plate.”

“Then I did better than he did,” he whispered in her ear. “I scored a triple last night.”

“Matt. Someone will hear you.” Her throaty voice shot straight to his groin.

He had to stop thinking about last night. About how incredible it had been. Again. But then, with Sara, every time was a new, wonderful, incredible experience. Better than the last.

“Keep your fingers crossed,” she instructed, lacing her fingers with his.

“I have my good luck charm right here,” he said, squeezing her hand.

The radio in his right hand blared the batter's statistics. The crowd cheered.

“Do you think he can pull it out?” Sara asked.

“He's capable, but he's been known to choke.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” She’d just spoken when the announcer blared, “Strike one.”

“Darn. Come on,” Sara yelled. “Pull it together.”

“Strike two.”

“Let's go, Pirates!”

Matt listened for the crack of wood on leather. He heard it, half a second before Sara jumped from her seat

“Yes!” she yelled.

His gaze shot instinctively to the outfield. Flashes of light assaulted him, shocked him, paralyzed him. He stared, eyes wide open, as hundreds of balls of light blinked at him, beacons in a sea of darkness.
What the hell?
He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed his hand over his face and looked again.

Blackness.

He blinked twice, tried again.

More blackness.

What the hell had happened? He hadn't seen anything, not so much as a thin ray of light since the accident. But what he'd just experienced, this bombardment of visuals, had been real. Hadn't it?

“Matt? Can you believe it?” Sara's voice reached him through his confusion. “Wasn't that incredible?”

“Incredible,” he murmured, setting his gaze toward the outfield. “Absolutely incredible.”

***

He was going crazy. What other possible explanation could there be for the events of the past four days? Matt slouched low in his lounge chair, ball cap pushed down on his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun.
One. Two. Three
. He took a deep breath.
Four. Five. Go
! He flipped the cap up and turned his gaze to the sun. And darkness.

“Damn.” He'd been playing this little game for the past two hours. Ten times, he'd tried to ‘see’ the sun's light. It had worked on six attempts. Bright rays of light had seared his lids, making him recoil from its brightness.

To say he'd become obsessed with his situation was an understatement. Since the day at the ball game, when he'd looked into the stands and seen balls of light, he'd fostered hope of seeing again. Something was happening. He was certain of it. Something big.

And he was petrified.

What if he did regain his vision? What would happen? His world was different now. He didn't want the glitz and glamour of public life. Not the notoriety or the pressure of insincerity. Or the women. He only wanted one woman and one life. But what if he could regain his sight and have a life with that one woman? Wouldn't he have everything he'd ever wanted? Didn't he owe it to them both to try?

From the first night after the game, he'd been testing himself, experimenting with light and vision. Crazy little schemes, like sitting in the bathroom, flicking lights on and off. Or having Rex take him and Sara for a drive at night, just to stare at the headlights. Sometimes he saw them flashing before him in the breadth of a second only to disappear into darkness. Other times there was nothing but a steady stream of black.

It was this agonizing torture of seeing and not seeing that was the worst. He'd just about come to terms with his blindness, even considered using the walking staff Sara gave him a few days ago. Hell, he'd even been toying with a dog. Sara loved animals, so he thought he'd make her happy and get an extra pair of eyes in the bargain.

So why did he have to be thrown into purgatory when he'd just about clawed his way out of hell and had his foot on the first rung of heaven's ladder?

Damned if he knew.

“Matt? What are you doing?”

He jerked his head away from the sun and pushed his hat low on his forehead. How could he not have heard Sara coming? Too engrossed in his experiments, that's why.

“What are you doing?” she asked again, her voice mere inches from him.

He reached up, found her hand. “Nothing,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Just getting a little sun.”

“Well, you looked a little strange with your face all scrunched up. Kind of like the sun was bothering your eyes.”

“Now that would be a trick, wouldn't it?” he said, pulling her toward him for a kiss.

“We have work to do, remember?” she murmured against his lips. “Another chapter today.”

“Jack can wait.” He ran his hand down her bare arm. “I can't.”

“You'll have to,” she said, easing from his grasp. “Jack needs to get out of disaster and hooked up with his woman.”

“So do I,” he teased, reaching out, trying to find her. His hand snatched gobs of air.

“Right now, all you're going to get is an iced tea. Rosa just made a fresh pitcher. Would you like some?”

He blew out a sigh, pretending disgust. “If that's all you're offering, I guess it'll have to do.”

She planted a light kiss on his mouth. “You'll get dessert later.”

He traced her lips with his tongue. “My favorite part of the meal.”

“Then you can have seconds,” she whispered. “Or thirds.”

He groaned and she pulled away, her husky laugh floating over him. “Be right back.”

Matt took a deep breath. Enjoying Sara’s orange and lemon scent. Tonight could not get here soon enough. He sighed and looked toward the patio door.

His breath slammed against his throat and he shot up in his chair, eyes wide open, staring at the indistinct gray shape moving away from him.

Sara. He'd just seen Sara.

***

“What's wrong?” Sara asked, cuddling next to him. “You've been fidgeting all night.” She smoothed a curl from his forehead. “And you've been squinting for days. I'm starting to wonder if you shouldn't see a doctor.”

“That's probably not a bad idea.”

His ready agreement surprised her. Matt Brandon, agreeing to see a doctor? He wouldn't do that unless he thought something was wrong. “Are you having any symptoms that are causing you concern?” She doubted he'd admit to anything outright, but maybe if she were less obvious about it, he might open up.

“Now you sound like a doctor.”

“Just concerned.”

“Don't be,” he said, taking her hand in his, and stroking her fingers. “I just think it's time for the good old doc to let me know if anything's changed. That's all.”

“Honest?”

His hand stilled a half second. “Honest.”

“I'll go with you if you like.”

“I'd like that very much.” Sara scooted down on the leather sofa and rested her head on his shoulder. “It doesn't matter if the doctor says things are the same,” he said. “I just want to know.”

Why did he want to know now? After all these months of fighting doctors? Had something happened to change his mind?

“Why don't we plan a trip to Pittsburgh in a few weeks,” he said. “Stay six or seven days, take in a few ball games. Visit Jeff. What do you think?”

“Sounds great. After all, Pittsburgh is my home and Jeff is my boss.” She tried to make a joke of it but the words fell flat.

“That could all change,” he said.

How could it change? What are you offering?
She had to know. “But sooner or later, I have to go back for more than a visit.”

“Why?”

Was he serious? “Why?”

“Yeah. Why do you have to go back at all? Why can't you stay here?” He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “I thought that was the plan.”

Just stay? No promises? No commitments?

She sat up and turned toward him so she could see his expression and try to read between his words. “We've never talked about anything on a long-term basis.”

A muscle twitched on the left side of his jaw. “I assumed you'd stay with me and see how things worked out.”

And if they didn't? She'd be right back where she was three years ago when Brian walked out on her. She couldn't do that again, not even for Matt. “I'm sorry, I can't do that.”

He tensed. “Can't? Or won't?”

“It's the same thing, isn't it? I have another life, a job, other responsibilities …”
He'd never understand.

“I'll double your salary.”

“To do what?” Each word he spoke pierced her heart.

“Be my assistant. Type, go on tour… just be with me.”

“Oh. A paid companion.”

“Kind of.”

“No better than one of those women who flock around you.”

“No! Why would you say a thing like that?”

Because somewhere between that first shared kiss and now, she'd assumed they were building toward something stronger than just for today. Foolish as she might have been, she actually dreamed of being with this man, loving him, maybe having his children. Obviously, he hadn't shared her dream. She'd been nothing more than short-term parking—easy access, convenient. Temporary.

“Sara? Answer me.”

“I said it because if I stay with you under those conditions, then I'm no better than all those women you eventually come to detest.”

“I want you to stay. You know that.”

“I know.”

“But you want a ring.” He spat out the words as though he'd tasted something vile.

“I want a commitment,” she corrected, as the distance between them grew.

He let out a harsh laugh. “You've been reading the wrong kind of books. No wonder you don't like mine. They deal in reality. For now, not forever.”

That might be his reality, but it wasn’t hers. “I'm looking for real life people who love each other and aren't afraid to make a commitment.”

“You're looking for a fairy tale with a happy ending,” he bit out. “I'm no Prince Charming and if that's who you're looking for, you should have picked Adam.”

He would not see the pain pouring from her wound as his words ripped her heart open and tore the life from her. “God, but I wish I had.”

His face contorted with anger. “Damn you,” he hissed, heaving himself from the sofa. He turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

Sara closed her eyes and let the tears come.

***

How much longer was he going to be forced to sit here, with his ass hanging out of this ridiculous gown? Where was that damn doctor? He needed answers and he needed them now.

He was tired of waiting. It had taken three days to get an appointment. That was his first annoyance. The receptionist had told him the doctor usually had a three-to-four-week wait, but considering the circumstances, she'd adjust the schedule. What she meant was considering who he was, she'd bump him up a few days. What if he'd said he was Robert De Niro? Or Al Pacino? He'd probably have gotten same-day service.

Matt had insisted on having the MRI done the same day as his doctor visit. He wanted answers. The lights and shadows came to him daily, threatening to drive him mad. He needed to understand what was happening. Was he on the path to seeing again or was this quasi-sight God's way of punishing him for the early months he spent cursing Him for his blindness?

He'd been cursing a lot these last few days. Not that anyone would have noticed, because he wasn't talking to anyone. The words were all in his head, long hyphenated phrases, with colorful expletives.

All because of her. Sara Hamilton had finally pushed him over the edge. He hoped she was happy. They hadn't spoken more than twenty words to each other in the past three days. Other than a perfunctory greeting, they'd treated each other like pieces of furniture.

And as for sharing the same bed… Well, that was a subject better left untouched.

Why couldn't she have just left things alone? Why did she have to go and start spouting words like commitment? Next she'd be talking about picking out silver patterns. He didn't need to hear that right now.
Didn't want to hear it.
And now she was talking about leaving? Just because he wouldn't say some ridiculous, overused words? Didn't she know he cared for her, wanted to be with her, would take care of her?

Why couldn't that be enough?

The door opened, intruding on his thoughts. Thank God. He welcomed any diversion to take his mind off of
her.

“Hello, Matt,” Dr. Myers's gruff voice filled the room.

“Doc.” He nodded in greeting.

“I've got good news. The swelling is gone. There’s some scar tissue, but that shouldn't hinder your sight.”

“Meaning?” He didn’t dare hope.

“Meaning there's no reason you shouldn’t regain your sight.”

Matt let out a long sigh. “Really?” Could it be true, that after all these months of darkness, he might see light again?

“The lights you've been seeing along with the shadows are normal. Your vision will return in stages.”

“How long?”

“That's uncertain. You need to be patient and let your body follow its own course.”

Matt ignored the advice. “Patience has never been one of my virtues, Doc. At least, give me a guess. How long until I really see again? One month? Two? A year?”

“I'd only be guessing.”

“I'll take it.”

“Well, the rapidity with which you progressed from blinking lights to moving forms suggests your vision may return within a matter of a few months. Two to three, perhaps.”

“And then, I'll see normally, no more flashes or blurs like I'm underwater?”

“You should see as well as you did before.”

Matt closed his eyes and tried to digest the doctor's words. A month ago, he'd lived in darkness, thinking he'd never see again. Ten days ago, he was considering a Seeing Eye dog and a walking staff. Today, he learned the lights and shadows that haunted him daily would, in time, reshape themselves into real things, like people and objects.”So, what do I do now?”