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Even though she watched him approach, the knock on the door had Miranda nearly jumping out of her skin. In the twenty minutes or so she’d fussed and waited for Colin to arrive, she’d gone over every move, every detail, many times. He was on time, seven sharp, as she knew he would be. The moment was at hand. She pulled herself up, reminding herself that this was Colin, the man she’d known her entire life, and whom she’d always been attracted to. This could only be good, right?
Forcing herself to relax, she went to her bedroom door, calling to him to come in. She watched him enter the room and look up the stairs, following her voice. When his eyes widened in surprise, traveling down the length of her scantily clad body and back to her face, his mouth opened to speak, but she quickly put a finger to her lips, silencing him.
“No. No talking. Just come up.”
It was clear from his expression that whatever he’d been expecting, this was not it. She gestured to him to join her with a naughty little tilt of her head, smiling in delicious anticipation. This was going to be fun.
COLIN HEARD the door click shut behind him and swallowed hard as the scent of her sexy perfume wafted over him. He walked up the stairs on automatic pilot, curiosity consuming him. What was going on?
It was clear enough when he saw her, posed sexily in the doorway of her bedroom. He tried to train his eyes in another direction, but the room was clearly set for seduction. Then his gaze landed on her again, disbelief coursing through him. It was almost hard to believe this was Miranda—his Miranda—with whom he’d had snowball wars and late-night pizza parties when they were kids.
She walked up to him and he felt his groin tighten in a way that suggested he was going to have a very hard time resisting her. It was every fantasy he’d ever had about her coming true. The sheer gown she wore hid next to nothing, and it occurred to him that this was the first time he’d seen her naked, or as close to it as he could imagine. Well, there had been that one time they’d all gone skinny-dipping when they were thirteen, but that was not the same at all.
The lacy material clung to her breasts, and was slit nearly to the hip. A long, silken leg emerged as she walked toward him, and he wasn’t sure, but he might have groaned out loud.
“Mir—”
“Shh! No talking. I told you.”
Her voice was sultry and commanding, and she had a fire in her eyes that sent arrows of lust shooting straight to his…toes. Who would have known he liked having a woman taking control this way, leaving him mute and helpless? With other lovers, he had always been in control, the one who made the moves. He had initiated the action. This was…mildly kinky? To enjoy having someone else be in control, ordering him around? He didn’t know he would like kinky sex. But as he felt himself thicken, becoming painfully hard, he knew he liked it quite a lot. He filed that thought away for further examination later.
She stepped up close, her breasts grazing his chest as she pushed the lightweight jacket from his shoulders, then loosened the knot of his tie, which did nothing to clear the obstruction in his throat. She took him by the hand, leading him to a small table. She looked into his eyes, hers communicating brazen desire.
“I’m going to feed you.”
He noticed she didn’t ask, for instance, Are you hungry? Would you like a strawberry? But a statement. A command. He knew he should stand up, call this off, but his mind and his body were too caught up in her spell to object. And who was he kidding? She was every man’s fantasy—his in particular—come to life.
She poured a glass of champagne and took a sip, then dipped a ripe strawberry in the glass before lifting it to his mouth. He took a bite. A drizzle of juice escaped down his chin, and he might have touched an electric fence for the jolt that shot through him as their tongues touched when they both attempted to catch the stray drop. He heard her chuckle, a low, sexy laugh that told him he was in big trouble.
The feeding went on for torturous minutes on end. She not only fed him but let him watch her eat, and he felt his muscles clench in primal response when she dipped her fingers into the champagne and traced them down her chest, along the edges of the nightgown over the creamy curves of her breast. He licked his lips instinctively and felt his traitorous cock throb with need. There was nothing he could do to stop it. She was shredding his control into confetti.
Victory and lust surged in her eyes as she took in his reaction, and she clasped his hand in hers again, pulling him over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. He watched them both as she stood beside him, running her hands over him, tugging his shirt loose, buttons popping and flying everywhere.
His heart thundered in his chest. His eyes were glued to the image of her undressing him. He felt as if he was in an excruciatingly seductive dream, except that every tingle of response, every shudder of pleasure as her hands moved over him was achingly real.
She slipped her hands inside his shirt and rubbed them lightly over his chest. She had to feel the slamming of his heart against his ribs. Heat washed over him. It had been far too long for him, and he’d exercised great restraint. Now he was too close to the edge from her simple touch.
Her mouth followed her hands and before he knew it he was naked in front of the mirror, his body glistening with sweat, every inch of him from head to toe rock-hard and fully aroused. He stared at the image of her kneeling in front of him, such a submissive position for a woman so in command.
When her reflection showed her leaning forward to touch her mouth to his already incredibly sensitized erection, he nearly lost it right there. His mind clicked a mental photograph of the picture they made, an image he would never forget. Things were getting out of control—he was out of control—and he needed to stop this. With a grunt of objection, he backed up, away from her mouth. She rose and smiled, taking him by the hand again and leading him to the bed.
“You’re right—no need to rush things. We have all night. Sit.” Her breathing was shallow, and he knew she was as aroused as he was. It was wrong that he let it go this far, but he was so hungry for her, and he really didn’t want to stop, even though that way was madness. He felt his head spin as she peeled off the nightgown. He tried to speak, but the words came out as a long groan.
Standing before him in only a silky, flesh-toned thong, she met his gaze with such desire, such openness, and such…passion…he knew with painful clarity that if he let this happen they would regret it later. As much as he wanted her, needed her, he had to end this.
It was almost physically painful to push down the wanting, to ruthlessly shut off the desire, but he forced himself to do so. She walked to him, concern evident in her expression, lifting her hand to touch him, and he nearly flew to the other side of the room, not trusting himself to be touched one more time and still stay strong.
MIRANDA WATCHED HIM withdraw from her and felt confusion and rejection splash over her like ice water. She stood there, naked, wondering what had gone wrong. Her plan was working. He’d enjoyed it, that was obvious. She knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Yet in one second, in one horrible moment, the wall had slammed down between them yet again and he had pulled away, physically and emotionally. Dazed, she couldn’t fathom what was happening.
“Colin, I don’t understand…” Her voice was barely a whisper and she took a step forward, stopping as he took a step back.
“Miranda…Randi, please. Just give me a minute.”
Chills traveled over her skin, followed by a surge of shame and deep embarrassment. She too reached for anything she could to cover up, tears stinging at the back of her eyelids.
“Why? What’s wrong?” She wrapped a sheet around her body and tried to manage the tumult of emotions that raged through her. She was shaking and her breath came in gulps, but she fought hard for some vestige of control. She watched him finish dressing and managed to speak again, her voice small, which she hated though she couldn’t seem to control it.
“Don’t you think I’m sexy, Colin? Don’t you want me?”
His head snapped up. She saw the shock in his face, and knew that wasn’t it, as he was quick to confirm.
“Does it look like I don’t want you? I’m burning with it, Randi, but it just doesn’t feel right. I shouldn’t have let this happen.”
She felt her knees shake beneath her but somehow continued to stand. Staring him in the eye, she demanded an answer.
“Why not? You won’t even give it a chance.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment, and his jaw squared, as if he were hanging hard on to his control.
“I’m having a physical reaction to you—what man wouldn’t? You’re gorgeous and seductive, but that’s all it is. Just a physical response. And one we shouldn’t act on.”
“That’s all you feel for me? You are just reacting like any man would to a naked woman?” Disbelief and hurt were evident in her words, and he tried to explain.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You are my friend and I care about you, and that’s why I’m stopping. Try to think about this rationally, Miranda.”
Her heart constricted and she wasn’t sure she could breathe. “Rationally?” She didn’t know if she actually spoke the question. She saw red. He was stomping on her heart, humiliating her, rejecting her without even a good reason why.
Colin stepped forward, but this time she retreated.
“Listen, Randi, you may think you want to start something with me, and I can almost understand that. You might see me as an alternate to Derek, a way to put those demons to rest, but that’s not a role I intend to take up.”
She angrily clutched the sheet more tightly around herself. “You honestly think I wanted to sleep with you as a substitute for Derek? I never even slept with Derek, you moron! How could you think such a thing? Did you get this out of one of your psychology books, Col? If you don’t want me, be honest about it, but cut the psychobabble.”
“Miranda—”
“We’ve always had something between us, Colin, whether you will admit it or not. Stay, and give us a chance, Colin, or just get out. It’s your choice.” Her voice caught, but she stood strong, her eyes blazing into his. He stood helplessly for a moment and then turned away. She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see her heartbreak, but she knew she didn’t need to worry about that as she heard the door open and then click softly shut.
“Fine, then. Just go.” She spoke to the empty room. Giving in to the pain, she let the sobs take her over.
COLIN PARKED his truck at the side of the road in Old Port, regret gnawing at his gut. If he’d known what she had on her mind he never would have shown up tonight. He’d hurt her, he knew, but she needed to hear the truth before they got caught up in something that wasn’t healthy for either of them. He should feel as if he’d done the right thing—so why didn’t he?
The streets were quiet, though some folks enjoyed a walk along the old cobblestone streets in the warming spring air. He stopped by a sidewalk bridge between two buildings that overlooked Casco Bay and stared out into the darkness. When Derek had died, he’d gone through the predictable stages of grief—anger at his brother for leaving him alone. And guilt. The horrible frustration and guilt he felt while he watched his parents suffer. No matter what he did, he couldn’t make it better.
He couldn’t make it better for Miranda, either, then or now. She’d left Portland after Derek’s death, and maybe some of those old ghosts were things she still had to work through now that she was home again, but he wasn’t going to be part of that. He had to be the one who stayed in control. When she thought things through, she would be glad he had walked away. Even though it was the last thing he’d wanted to do. It would have been so easy to give in, to sink into the willing flesh of her body, have all his fantasies become reality. But what was easy wasn’t always right.
“Dammit, Miranda.”
He pushed back from the rail and began walking to the car, his mind numb and his body still on fire. He needed a cold shower and some sleep. Maybe he’d wait a few days and then try to talk to her. He only made it a few steps when he heard a funny little squeaking sound and someone yelling. Suddenly, he saw two men on bikes barreling down on him, waving their hands frantically for Colin to get out of the way. They hit their brakes, and he watched their bikes wobble, but it was too late.
He moved to avoid them, but one biker unfortunately moved in the same direction he did. The impact was hard and sudden; he felt the sharp jab of the bike’s handles into his gut and then the heavy thud of a body as the man flew over the handles of the bike, crashing into him. Colin was pushed backward, flipping over the rail. Strangely, through the surge of pain and movement, he thought how odd it felt to be so completely out of control of his body for the second time that evening, tossed about as if he were weightless.
He grabbed desperately for the rail but only grasped darkness. The next sensation he felt was intense, bone-biting cold—and pain. He hit something hard, and it hurt. He saw Miranda’s face in his mind’s eye just as everything faded to black.
3
“I WANT TO SPEAK to Dr. Monroe, Travis Monroe. I want to see him now!” Miranda was nearly hysterical with fear, and was willing to walk directly over the emergency nurse and into the intensive care unit if she had to.
They had Colin. Travis had called her, and she had somehow made it to the hospital through her panic and tears. She had to see him, see that he was alive, before she would listen to anyone. She had to see for herself. God, it was all happening again. First with Derek, and now Colin. If they lost him how could she live with herself? Obviously he had been upset when he left. This was all her fault.
The nurse put gentle but firm hands on her shoulders, and Miranda braced herself to break way when she was distracted by footsteps running up behind her. Just at that moment, Travis turned a corner out into the hallway, his expression grave. She started to call to him but saw Colin’s mother dash past her, and over to Travis. Miranda broke away and quickly followed behind Colin’s dad and Penny.
The scene was sheer chaos. Travis put his hands up to stop the flow of questions that suddenly flooded the hall and herded them back toward the waiting room. Miranda looked at Joyce, Colin’s mom, and felt ashamed of her own lack of control. Joyce must be reliving the nightmare of losing Derek right now and that was much worse than her own panic. The older woman was drawn and pale and clearly needed to sit down. Miranda swallowed her fear and dropped back, trailing the group as they entered a small room.
Travis started to speak.
“First things first—you should all relax. Colin’s okay. We’re watching him carefully right now. He was mildly hypothermic and took a nasty bump, but his vitals are good and he didn’t sustain any serious internal injuries or broken bones, which is amazing in and of itself.”
Miranda felt relief well in her heart and tears filled her eyes. She glanced over in surprise when she felt a strong hand squeeze hers, and realized Colin’s dad, Ed, was holding her hand, his own face tense with worry. She nodded reassuringly at him, squeezing his hand back as Travis continued speaking.
“There is one thing, though. You need to know before you see him.”
“What? What is it?” Miranda spoke for the first time, and Travis’s eyes locked on hers.
“Well, this isn’t unusual with a serious fall, and it will likely clear itself up quickly, but—”
“Just spit it out, Travis!” Penny interrupted impatiently, and Travis slid her a look that made Miranda wince.
“He isn’t remembering everything at the moment. He knows he was in the water, but he doesn’t remember how he got there, how he was rescued, or the events leading up to the fall.” He surveyed their faces, gauging their reactions before he continued. “There could be other random memory loss, but we have to wait and see. Sometimes people will permanently lose their recollections of the events immediately prior to a traumatic experience and other times it comes back in stages. It’s confusing for him right now, so just go with it.”
Joyce’s voice quavered. “Will he know us?”
Travis squeezed her shoulder kindly. “I’m pretty sure he will. At least from what we could tell, it seems he’s lost a chunk of time, but not his memories of people. Especially those he’s closest to. Besides, who could forget your cooking?”
Miranda admired Travis’s professionalism, as well as his kindness. She had never seen him in his doctor role before and was very impressed. He was like an entirely different person. It was hard to believe this was the same carrot-topped, practical-joke-loving Travis they had all grown up with.
“We have to wait until he is fully awake and aware until we know the extent of his memory loss. And he may have some short-term memory problems in the coming days or weeks. That’s not unusual with amnesia, so don’t worry if he can’t remember a phone number, or something like that.”
They nodded. Ed guided Joyce over to a couch to sit down, leaving Travis, Penny and Miranda together.
Penny spoke, her wry voice cutting through the tension. “Travis, are you sure? Remember you told me my toe needed to be cut off when I stubbed it?” She reached over and flipped the end of Travis’s tie.
Travis’s expression was pained as he closed his eyes and shook his head. Leave it to Penny.
“I was twelve then, Pen.”
“Yeah, but still, you were way wrong.”
Miranda had to smile and wink at Penny. A little humor never hurt.
“When can we see him, Travis?”
“You can all go in to see him, one at a time, to put your minds at rest…but just for a minute. He needs to sleep this off. He’s pretty heavily sedated, too, so don’t expect much. Tomorrow he will be better.”
They nodded and proceeded to walk single file down the hallway behind Travis. Miranda caught up with Travis, relieved she could finally speak to him alone.
“You said he was in a bicycle accident. Was anyone else hurt?”
Travis stood by the emergency-room door, stepping to the side while Joyce went in to see Colin.
“The other guy was pretty banged up, has a decent concussion, but his friend managed to avoid the whole thing, which was a blessing. He had an emergency flare and a flashlight on his bike and managed to signal a nearby boat coming in for the night. If Colin had been in the water much longer, his chances would not have been good at all. Hypothermia sets in fast.”
Miranda sank against the wall, swallowing hard.
“I can’t even imagine how bad this must be for Ed and Joyce. They were supposed to leave on an anniversary cruise in two days. They are probably wrecks.”
Travis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll talk to them when they come out. I can understand their panic, but it’s probably not necessary to cancel their trip. Col will feel banged up for a few days, and we’ll have to wait and see on the memory issues, but he’ll be up and around by tomorrow, and we’ll probably release him if he shows no other symptoms.”
Miranda considered telling Travis about their evening, wondering if it might help to trigger Colin’s memory, then she shut up. Everyone was going to think she was a bad-luck charm for the Jacobs brothers.
Joyce and Ed came back into the hallway appearing much more relaxed, and Travis smiled.
“He was awake? He knew you?”
“Oh, yes. Right away. Though he couldn’t say much. When will you be releasing him? He can come home and we’ll take care of him.”
“You know, Randi here tells me you two had a trip planned. As long as nothing else happens tonight or tomorrow—which it likely won’t—” he added at the sight of Joyce’s suddenly worried expression “—he’ll be fine to get up and go home after a day of observation. The best thing for him to do, and for his memory, is to get back to his normal life as soon as he feels up to it. With no major injuries, he’ll probably want to return to work and a normal routine.”
Joyce was doubtful. “Oh, I don’t know. I think he should…”
“Hey, now, you may be the best cookie-baker this side of the planet, but I’m the doctor, right? Just go home now, and relax. He’s fine. He’s lucky.”
Ed nodded and shook Travis’s hand before leaving. Miranda watched them, then turned to Travis.
“Do you mind if I go in for a moment? Alone?” She slid an apologetic look at Penny, who, with her hands, motioned her to go along.
“You go on in. I’m fine. I’ll see him tomorrow when I can talk with him more. There’s no point in tiring him out now.”
Miranda nodded and, with her heart in her throat, walked into the room, unsure of what she would face there.
THE HALL, WHICH HAD BEEN crowded and noisy, was suddenly extremely quiet. Penny peeked up at Travis as she kicked at the corner of the wall.
“So he really is okay? You weren’t just trying to make them all feel better?”
“Penny, doctors really aren’t allowed to be less than completely honest. Unfortunately, even when the news is bad, we have to tell it like it is. So yes, unless something wildly unusual happens, he really is going to be fine. We’re keeping a close eye on him so don’t worry.”
She smiled, relieved, and suddenly felt awkward standing so close to Trav. He’d always been skinny and gawky, freckled and redheaded. She’d called him “Opie” and “chicken legs” and a bunch of other names for as long as she could remember. The teasing was an equalizer between them. It helped erase the fact that Travis’s life had been so different from her own.
Travis had been the last of their little group to appear, his parents moving to Portland from New York City when he was seven. His father was a well-known attorney and, though the group lived within blocks of each other, Travis’s home was much more luxurious than the rest of theirs. He’d traveled all over the world, spoke two other languages and could discuss topics she had no idea about.
