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“I guess.” Clipping his glasses into the front of his shirt, he allowed his eyes to travel back to the small woman cradling the microphone.
“I thought you were supposed to be studying,” Rose observed.
“Just taking a break,” he said defensively.
“Or have you decided to study the human body instead of the human mind?”
He gave his mother a sidelong look meant to quell the optimism he heard in her voice. “I was simply taking a break, and wandered in here for a couple of minutes.”
His mother nodded but gave absolutely no other indication that she was convinced about his motives. “Shelby called, said she and Dylan were coming by tonight to catch the show.”
“I’m sure they’ll enjoy themselves. They haven’t had much time together since Cassidy was born.”
“I told them we’d reserve a table for six down front.”
“Six?”
His mother patted her lacquered hair and averted her eyes. “I asked Destiny’s manager and that woman Gina to join us.”
Wesley swallowed the groan in his throat. “Her manager’s a jerk.”
“Is that a medical observation?” Rose teased. “Or personal, maybe?”
Wesley smiled at his mother. He knew better than to pursue this line of dialogue. Rose had made no secret of her desire to have a daughter-in-law and some grandchildren in residence at The Rose Tattoo.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” Wes said.
“You can’t do that,” Rose told him.
“Why not?”
“Because I told Destiny you’d drive her home after they finish setting up all these lights and microphones.”
“Why did you do that?” he asked, trying to sound perturbed, though the thought of spending some time alone with Destiny appealed to him much more than he was willing to admit—even to himself.
“Because I was under the impression that you were protecting her from whoever is sending her the flowers. Shelby told me that you’ve enlisted Dylan, as well.”
“I simply asked him to give me an assessment of the situation.”
“So that explains why you dragged him out to the beach in the middle of the night.”
Wes felt his cheeks color.
“And—” Rose tapped her finger against his breastbone “—Shelby is very unhappy that you dragged her husband out in the middle of the night. But I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it this evening.”
“Great,” Wes grumbled. “Maybe I’ll skip opening night.”
“Why would you do that?”
Wes spun and found himself staring down into those breathtaking violet eyes. “My mother got me into trouble with Shelby.”
He watched, fascinated, when her lips parted and she blew a steady stream of breath upward, toward perspiration-dampened bangs. Her mouth was perfect. Her lips reminded him of sweet cherries—full and ripe. His mind flashed vivid images, all of which, he felt sure, would earn him a resounding slap from either Destiny or his mother. Or both.
He smelled good, she thought as she tilted her face up. And he was staring rather intently at her mouth. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but Destiny’s pulse increased when she noted the blatant curiosity as he scrutinized her features. Without even trying, Wesley had her nerves tingling with a very potent mixture of anticipation and expectation. As his blue-gray eyes traveled over her features, Destiny felt as if she was being caressed. It was unnerving.
“So,” she began as soon as she’d placed a protective smile between herself and the doctor, “you’ll be here tonight? I’m usually at my best on the first and last nights.”
“Really?” Wes said, his head listing pensively to the left. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Don’t strain yourself,” she retorted, meeting his amused eyes. “Gina said you invited her to join you this evening. Thank you,” Destiny said to Rose. “She usually gets stuck backstage. It was very thoughtful of you to include her.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll have a lovely time.”
She gave the woman’s forearm a gentle squeeze. “Still, it was a very nice thing for you to do.”
Destiny was a little surprised to see the woman’s cheeks color slightly beneath the thick layer of blusher.
“I’ve got a few things to do back at my office. Wes will run you out to the beach.”
“If you’re in the middle of studying, I can take a cab. As I told Rose, it’s not a problem.”
She watched as his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s not an inconvenience.”
She regarded him through the thickness of her lashes. “I don’t believe you.”
He met her eyes and said, “It is an inconvenience, but not nearly as inconvenient as the ramifications if I don’t take you home.”
“What?”
“If I don’t take you home, my mother will rag on me for days. So you see, taking you home is a far superior option than incurring the wrath of Rose.”
Destiny smiled. “Mothers are such fun, aren’t they? I bet she had you on a guilt trip all through your childhood.”
“I didn’t grow up with Rose,” he said quietly. “My parents were divorced when I was small. I lived with my father and stepmother.”
“It looks like we have something in common, Doctor. My folks split up when I was five.”
“Casualties of relaxed divorce laws.”
“Is that what you think?” Destiny asked, her fingers automatically moving to his arm. His skin was warm beneath her touch. “Divorce was the best solution for my parents. I shudder to think what would have happened to all of us if they’d stayed together.”
“Meaning?”
Her brow wrinkled at the clinical ring to his question. “My sister and I would have been the casualties if my mother hadn’t left my father. He drank, they fought. Hardly a nurturing environment for children.”
“You have a sister?”
“Peace,” she said.
“Peace and Destiny?” he said, struggling to contain the snicker.
“Childbirth and LSD.” Destiny sighed.
“No wonder your father is chemically dependent.”
“He’s a drunk,” Destiny corrected. “I love him dearly in spite of it, so you don’t have to worry about being so politically correct.”
“I wasn’t being politically correct,” he asserted as his hand snaked around her waist.
Destiny could feel the warm indentation of his splayed fingers as he guided her out into the midday sun. She swallowed, hoping to quell the spark igniting in the pit of her stomach.
“Chemically dependent isn’t politically correct?” she challenged. “Right.”
“I meant it in the medical sense. If your father was attracted to drugs in his youth, he’s probably an addictive personality. One sort of dependency usu—”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be studying now,” Destiny interjected. “You sound like a textbook, Doctor. Lighten up.”
“A textbook, huh?”
Destiny slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses and tried not to fixate on the feel of his thigh brushing hers as they walked slowly down the stone path to the parking area. It was like trying not to take a breath. Every cell in her body seemed to be aware of him on some level. Her mind honed in on every conceivable detail. The lithe movements of his body, the muscled strength of his thighs, the rather cocky assuredness of his swagger. She took in his profile from behind the safety of her glasses. He was certainly attractive, but that didn’t explain her response. Wesley wasn’t the first attractive man she’d encountered. But he is the first intelligent, attractive man I’ve met, her mind reasoned.
He held open the door of his car.
“This is yours?” she asked, cocking her head to one side as she stood next to the Mercedes convertible.
“Not bad transportation for a textbook, is it?”
Destiny snapped her mouth shut and scurried into the car. Why was Wes the one with all the punch lines? And why was she now adding financially stable to attractive and intelligent?
He slid behind the wheel, tugging at the knees of his faded jeans in one fluid motion. Destiny fumbled with the seat belt as he started the engine. She was just regaining her equilibrium, when Wes reached across her lap to open the glove box. His forearm pressed against her legs, rustling the flimsy fabric of her cotton dress.
“What are you doing?”
His answer came in the form of a sudden pop, as the forward edges of the convertible top were released. Wesley didn’t right himself immediately. His hand dropped from the glove box, and his fingers wrapped around the contours of her knee. He was close enough for Destiny to be able to smell the fresh scent of his shampoo. Close enough for her to feel the urge to run her fingers through the thick mass of unruly dark hair falling forward into his eyes. Close enough for her to feel the heat emanating from his massive frame. Destiny went perfectly still.
He drew closer, until she could feel the warmth of his breath wash over her face. Quietly his eyes searched her face before he asked, “Any further developments from your fan?”
An involuntary shiver doused her budding passions the instant she thought of the creepy notes and flowers.
“Not a word.”
Destiny should have commented when his hand slid from her knee to her waist, then over her arm and her shoulder, until she could feel his palm cup her chin. Where was her sharp wit? Surely she could think of some cute remark that would inspire him to take his hand away. She could, but she didn’t want to.
She knew that for certain when she braved a look at his face. Concern seemed to temper his expression. She saw it in the deep lines beside his eyes and mouth.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“Sure,” she responded with false lightness as she pulled back from his touch. “I’m fine. I tried to tell you last night that I’m not letting this fruitcake get to me.”
He frowned, apparently not buying her brave front. “He’s getting to you. You’re too smart to be so nonchalant about a potential threat.”
“Gee,” Destiny began, batting her lashes at him, “nice compliment. Sorta like ‘That dress doesn’t make you look quite so fat.’”
“You know what I meant,” Wesley countered with a frown.
“I know,” she said, softening her expression with a genuine smile. “But you’re wrong about me.”
“Really?”
“I’m not intimidated by this guy.”
“Caution and intimidation aren’t the same thing.”
“I know,” she said, winking in an attempt to lighten his mood. “I’m smart. Remember?”
“Then be smart enough to do whatever’s necessary to find out why you’re being stalked.”
Destiny swatted his hand away and ran her fingers through her hair. “Please stop using the word stalked. And either put on the air-conditioning or throw back the top. I’m going to expire in this heat.”
“Avoidance,” he grumbled as he reached over and pressed something that made a whirring sound.
Blue skies, bright sun and a sweet-smelling breeze filled the car. “I’m not avoiding anything,” she told him as he put the car into Drive.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m not.” Destiny turned in the seat, tucking her leg beneath her in the process. Her eyes took in the strong angles of his face. Everything about this man seemed to exude strength.
“Whatever you say.”
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m simply not willing to allow some lunatic to dictate my actions.”
“And what happens if this lunatic decides he wants to do more than just admire you from afar? Then what?”
“Are you trying to scare me to death?”
“No. I’m trying to get you to understand the potential danger of this situation.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Caring.”
Wesley met her eyes briefly. “Don’t most people care about you?”
“You answered my question with a question. You do that a lot.”
“Sorry.”
