"You’re hiding."
Kayla glared into her mirror, and hated the miserable pale face staring
back at her. "You’re a coward. I’m ashamed of you!
Even when you lost Patrick and Sean, you didn’t run away and bury your
head in the sand this way."
The script hut swallowed
her angry voice, left her feeling empty and grim.
"This can’t continue,"
she warned her reflection, and scowled when it grimaced at her.
"He’s an ordinary man. It was just a simple, friendly good night
kiss, not a rapist’s attack! There is absolutely no reason
for you to be cowering in here like a frightened child, when you should
be out there enjoying the filming!"
No reason...except that
Alex Matthews was not an ordinary man. And that ‘simple,
friendly good night kiss’ had ignited an instant response in her that
she’d never felt before. Not even Patrick, God bless his loving
soul, had made her feel so vibrant, so hungry, so alive! It
was like being launched in a rocket right through the blazing sun!
She’d had no reason to
panic, and she’d known it even then. Logically she should have
smiled, thanked him for a pleasant outing, gathered her crutches, and
calmly hobbled back to her hut.
But the light touch of
his mouth had made her burn for something she hadn’t expected.
Something she hadn’t even known existed. Something so intense, so
addictive, she still felt her blood sizzle every time she dared to
remember.
The walls were closing in
on her, stifling her. She needed to get outside, into the fresh
clean air. Mac was on the far side of the mountain, exploring a
vast series of catacombs while Tommy’s character searched the
sun-dappled forest for him. There was no need for her to be
afraid, he wouldn’t be back for hours.
Dammit, why was she
afraid? That was ridiculous. He hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t
tried to frighten her. It hadn’t even been a deep, intimate kiss!
Considering how she’d reacted, he probably thought she was insane.
Maybe she was.
"You are not going
insane." She said the words aloud to give herself courage.
Then she sighed, and wearily threw both hands in the air. "You’re
just sitting alone in a cramped little hut, talking to yourself.
Call the guys with the badly tailored jackets, Kayla--your private room
at the Padded Hilton is waiting."
Her laptop was sitting
open on her new desk. She was tempted to start working again, just
to delay the inevitable a little longer. But her preliminary notes
were already typed up, and ready for Jerry’s inspection.
Honestly, it was absurd
for her to feel this nervous about joining the filming crew. She
was in no danger from anyone.
Except your own
heart.
They’d be glad to see
her.
Everyone except
Alex.
Nothing had changed since
he’d taken her for a drive along the beach, three nights ago.
Nothing except
that you’ve fallen even more in love with him than you originally were.
Kayla sucked in a
startled breath. That was the heart of the problem. She’d
always been in love with Troy MacAllister, but that was okay because he
was just a fictional character, not a real person. How easy it
would be to let that love to spill over onto Alex Matthews! And
that would be disastrous, for both of them!
Was it already too late?
It couldn’t be. Wouldn’t
be. Kayla stubbornly set her jaw. She might be on the
verge, but she’d caught herself in time. She knew the danger now,
and she would not succumb.
Alex Matthews wanted
nothing from her, not even a brief summer fling. And why should
he? Her blood might sing each time she saw him, but in every way
that would matter to him, she was still a cripple. She couldn’t
give him what he’d need.
He couldn’t give her what
she needed, either--the same kind of deep, eternal love she’d found with
Patrick. "I know you want me to be happy again," she whispered to
the hazy shaft of sunlight that seemed to sparkle and coalesce through
her open window. "But it can’t be with him. He
doesn’t love me. After the other night, he probably doesn’t even
like me anymore. If he ever did."
It would be impossible to
avoid Alex on an island this small. She’d be foolish to try.
But there was one thing she could do, to prove her strength and
independence. To prove that she wasn’t a cripple, after all.
Something that he would never forget. Something that would last in
his memory, and hers, forever.
A month ago, she wouldn’t
have dared to believe it was possible.
Today, it was going to
happen.
• • • • • •
The longer she was avoiding him, the more nervous he was getting.
It was starting to affect his sleep, his appetite, his work.
They’d had to do more retakes over the past three days, because Alex had
forgotten his lines or placement, than over the previous nine weeks.
It had to stop.
Paul raked an impatient
hand through his hair, and took a deep, steadying breath. He
understood the actors, his crew, the show’s producers and sponsors.
They were his entire world. He knew how to deal with them, when to
stand firm, when to give in.
Writers baffled him.
They thought differently. They wanted different things. And
they were damned difficult to deal with.
For all that she’d fit so
well into his precise little world, this writer was no different from
the rest. And he hated confrontations.
Sighing, he rapped
sharply on the script hut’s door.
Brigit answered the door
with a surprised smile. "Welcome to An Tíarna," she
invited, stepping back to let him in. "So what can I do for ye, me
fine lad?"
He ducked through the
door, then stared around the small room in blank confusion.
"What’s An Tíarna?"
Her soft laugh filled the
air, and made him think of moss-covered stones in a cool gurgling brook.
"Everyone else has named their huts, an’ we thought it was high time we
did the same. An Tíarna is a fairy fortress, where the
little people dance in the moonlight! It’s one of the most magical
places in all of Ireland. Someday you’ll come with me, an’ I’ll
show you."
He could almost see
Ireland’s shimmering green hills in his imagination. But he shook
off the enchanting vision with an effort. "I need to talk with
Kayla," he muttered. "When will she be back?"
Brigit sank into the
nearest chair, and a worried frown creased her freckled brow. "I
don’t know, Paul. She was gone when I got back from the filmin’.
I’ve no idea where she is."
He bit back an irritated
oath. Now, of all times, she’d decided to emerge from hiding.
He supposed he’d have to send out a search party, because it was certain
she didn’t know her way around the island. Especially not in the
deepening dusk.
"Paul?" Brigit
anxiously touched his hand. "She can’t have gone far."
He followed her pensive
gaze. Kayla’s crutches were neatly stacked against the wall,
beside her folded wheelchair.
"Jesus God!"
Stunned, he dropped into the adjoining chair. "She’s walking!"
"Aye." The light in
Brigit’s eyes was both proud and frightened. "She’s out walkin’.
Alone."
• • • • • •
Kayla hadn’t gone far. She couldn’t, in a long skirt, because of
all the clinging vines and fallen logs. Maybe someday she’d be
able to navigate them with careless ease. For right now, all her
concentration was focused on moving her sluggish feet.
It shouldn’t be this
difficult! Mac had been right--half the time, she didn’t even use
the crutches. They were just for balance and support if she needed
it. And recently she’d found they were getting in her way more
than helping.
So...she was through with
them. It was time to stand on her own two legs, without relying on
anything but herself.
Humid air burned in her
lungs as she sagged onto a rough log, and let her feet dangle a few
inches off the ground. It was getting dark. She wasn’t in
any danger of getting lost, not when she couldn’t yet climb the steep
hillside. Just turn back around, and head for the beach. The
noise and the bonfire’s light would provide all the beacon she needed.
But she didn’t want to
move just yet. She was tired, and the solitude felt surprisingly
good. It hadn’t dawned on her, until she’d slipped alone into the
forest, how much Brigit’s constant surveillance had chafed on her.
That realization made her
feel hateful and disloyal . She loved Brigit! No two women
could possibly be closer! Why should her best friend’s diligence
grate on her nerves this way?
We all need space now
and then. Patrick’s soft voice echoed in her ear as she leaned
forward with a weary sigh. There’s no crime in wanting
to stand on your own.
"I am standing on
my own!" She said the words aloud, and felt better for it.
"Did you see me, Patrick? I walked all the way out here alone!"
Alone is good, he
agreed, and she half-felt his warm hand descend on her shoulder.
But you were never meant to go through life alone, Kayla luv.
Or to stay alone, because you’re still clinging to the past.
Sudden terror surged
through her, and she bolted to her feet. "Patrick! Don’t
leave me, don’t ever leave me!"
Subtle warmth caressed
her cheek, drying her unexpected tears. Now you know me better
than that, he soothed, and she could almost see his loving smile in
the darkening shadows. I’ll always be nearby if you need
me. But the day has come, darlin’, to stand on your own. To
live your own life again. To take what you need, and make yourself
happy. You have that right, Kayla. Losing me didn’t take it
from you.
"No!" She shook her
head almost violently. "I belong to you! He doesn’t even
want me!"
Let him make that
choice himself. Patrick’s voice was laced with sadness, but
firm with quiet resolution. Whatever you decide in the
end will be right.
"Even if..." She
gulped, but couldn’t quite put the half-formed thought into words.
Even if.
Nothing you’ve done in the past, and nothing you can ever do in the
future, will change the love we’ve always had.
He was leaving her.
She knew it, and felt her heart clutch with agony. Oh, not right
this minute. But soon, his comforting voice would fade away, and
never return. How would she ever survive then, losing him all over
again?
"Kayla!" A
different voice suddenly echoed through the woods, and she took an
impulsive step forward. "There you are! What in the hell
are you doing out here alone?"
Every trace of pleasure
she’d felt, in that one unguarded instant, vanished like smoke.
Her chin jutted up, and she met Alex’s angry scowl with cool rebellion.
"What does it look like? I’m taking a walk. By myself.
Is that forbidden in my new contract?"
Alex blinked in surprise.
Kayla had been avoiding him for three long days, so he hadn’t expected a
warm welcome. But neither had he expected such icy hostility from
a woman known for her friendly, cheerful nature. He took a
cautious step back, and spread his hands wide in apology. "I’m
sorry, Kayla. We were just worried about you. There are
poisonous snakes here, and you don’t know your way around yet.
Anything could have happened!"
She wanted to snap at
him, maybe even take a wild swing at his angular jaw. Anything, to
ease the panic churning inside her! She didn’t want to feel
this way about him, didn’t want to lose the unique relationship
she still had with Patrick. Even if it was only in her own
mind and imagination! Why couldn’t everything just go back to the
way it had been, before she’d wheeled off that damned helicopter?
You just had to
meet Alex Matthews in person, she berated herself, feeling the
terror spin wildly out of control. And now look what’s
happened!
"Kayla!" The
frantic despair in her brimming eyes nearly broke his heart.
Instinctively he reached for her, and held her close as fierce shudders
began to rack her slender body. "Whatever I did wrong the other
night, I’m sorry! Please don’t cry!"
"It’s not..." She
hiccupped against his shoulder, and fought for control. "Not your
fault. Mine. All mine. I never...should have come
here. Oh Mac!" And now the tears flowed, thick and fast.
"What have I done?"
"Nothing!" He’d
never felt so helpless before, as she clung to him with desperate
strength and sobbed like her heart was breaking. "You haven’t done
anything wrong! Kayla, tell me what happened! Did Jerry say
something to upset you?"
She could only shake her
head, and clutch at his broad shoulders. How could she possibly
explain this deep, aching loss to him? Patrick was receding; even
now she could feel his loving warmth fading away. What if he never
came back, what if she never heard his precious voice again?
Oh, why had she been so
stupid, and fallen in love with another man? And not just any
other man, but this man, who could only break her heart?
How could Patrick possibly feel that it was right, and good, when she
could never be what Alex needed?
"I’ll make it right for
you, whatever it was! Just tell me!" Alex hardly even knew
what he was saying, but he couldn’t bear to see her this miserable.
"Kayla, please!"
Gradually his heartfelt
pleas penetrated her racking grief, and her sobs faded. He held
her tight, offering strength and comfort, until the shivering passed,
and she was able to stand on her own again.
And it was only then that
he realized she was standing on her own. His eyes widened,
and he grabbed at her again, as if he expected her to suddenly collapse.
Despite her bone-deep
fatigue, a wan smile curved Kayla’s lips. "You were right, Mac,"
she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek with gentle fingers.
"I don’t need the crutches anymore. I can stand alone, and make my
own decisions. And I can finally walk down that beach by myself."
Without thinking, he
brought her hand to his lips, and tenderly kissed her fingers. The
unexpected gesture was so sweet, so romantic, that she wanted to cry all
over again. But that would never do. She’d already
embarrassed herself in front of him once today. She couldn’t let
it happen again.
"Will you walk there with
me?"
She hesitated for a long
time, searching his eyes in the growing darkness. Finally she
nodded. "Not tonight. I need time to think. To figure
out everything that’s happened, everything that..." The words
stuck in her throat. She had to take a deep breath before she
could finish, "But I will, sometime, before we leave. I
promise."
She turned, then, and
walked steadily toward the distant beach.
It wouldn’t occur to her
until much later that she moved easily, without the stumbling and strain
that had marked her earlier roaming. But Alex noticed. And
he felt his aching heart splinter just a little more with every step
that took her further away from him.
