A Special Man (9 page)

Before the thoughts could drive her crazy, the cabin appeared out of the darkness, looking small and deserted in the headlights. But it would be just as she remembered it, sturdy and safe nestled among towering trees.

Switching off the engine, she turned to the man beside her. "We're here," she said softly, unnecessarily.

He stared at the cabin in silence, then stepped from the car. A frown worried her lips. She felt more than a physical withdrawal from him. Did he regret coming with her? Or was he simply as tired as she was?

Together they took the bags and boxes of provisions they'd bought into the cabin. "Just a second and I'll find the lanterns. It's chilly here. I didn't expect that. If there's wood we'll have a fire."

She was talking too much. She knew it, but she couldn't stop. Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to think. One thing at a time, she told herself. Just get through one thing at a time.

Under the sink, she found three lanterns and the water cutoff. She could wait until the next day to light the water heater, she decided. Her hands trembled as she lit the kerosene lanterns. It was a miracle she had remembered to buy more fuel. She placed the lanterns around the room, then turned to look around the cabin.

It was merely one large room, but it held everything they needed. Arranged around the room were a wide, old-fashioned bed, a couch against the front wall, a brown fur rug before the small, stone fireplace, and four chairs pulled up to a small, wooden dining table.

On the right side of the front door was the kitchenette. There were several hand tools on the counter where her father had left them the last time he'd been here. Strangely, they eased her tension. They made her feel at home, as though any minute her father would walk through the door.

"It'll do, Danny," she murmured. "It'll do."

She moved to a chest and took out sheets, pillows and blankets. "The lid fits tight," she said over her shoulder. "They don't even smell musty. Not that I would have noticed." She pushed her hair back with one hand. "I don't know about you, but I'm dead tired."

Suddenly she dropped the covers to the bed and her shoulders drooped wearily. "Oh, Danny," she whispered as much to herself as to him. "I'm so scared. It's got to be all right."

But still he didn't speak, and when she had smoothed the blanket twice, she turned around to face him. "Danny, what's wrong?" she asked quietly. "Don't you like the cabin? Would you rather go somewhere else?"

He simply stood and stared at her. Raising her chin, she met his eyes. Then she drew in a sharp breath. His eyes were green, this time a frightening-looking green. The only time she had seen him look like this was when Ginny had forgotten to give him—

Oh God! she thought, going weak with fear. Danny's medication! She had forgotten his evening medication.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. Danny, I forgot your injection." Tears of weariness and self-blame sprang to her eyes. "It's the most important thing and I forgot."

Moving quickly to the table, she opened the carryall and pulled out two boxes—the syringes and the drug. Her hands shook as she opened the boxes.

"I'll take care of it right now, then you'll be all right— Damn it, calm down," she whispered harshly to herself. "I hope you can forgive me, Danny, because it's going to be very hard to forgive myself."

Not a single word did he speak as she turned the vial upside down and carefully drew in the right amount. "Now," she said, turning around. "We'll fix—"

Danny stood directly behind her, one hand raised above his head, the metal head of the hammer he held glinting dully in the lantern light.

She felt her heart leap and instinctively backed against the table. Before she could react, he knocked the vial and the needle from her hands in a vicious backhand swipe. Then, staring straight at her, he reached out.

"Danny—" she began, then stopped. This is the end, she told herself in resignation. Strangely, fear never entered her mind. Not even when she remembered Ginny's words that first day. "He was out to do murder."

Oh, Danny, she thought, what have I done to you?

When he grasped her by the throat, Amanda merely stood still, waiting. Then with an almost careless motion, he pushed her aside and brought the hammer down violently onto the carryall... and the vials of medication it contained.

"Danny!" She grabbed his arm. "No, you can't!"

He shook her off with no effort at all and continued to bring the hammer down, again and again as the sound of breaking glass Med the room.

"No, no, no," she said, sobbing as she struggled with him again. This time, when he shook her off she landed on her knees. Pulling herself to her feet, she saw the carryall, saturated with the precious drug. It was too late.

She lowered her face to her hands. It had all been for nothing, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Her head jerked up when she heard a loud crash. He had moved away from the table. Standing before a heavy wooden-framed mirror, he slammed the hammer into the glass. He wasn't merely out of control; he was enraged, as though he wanted to destroy himself. Suddenly, slinging the hammer across the room, he began to use his fist on what was left of the mirror.

She watched in horror as blood flew onto the wall and the floor. Without thinking, she was on her feet. She rushed at him, throwing her body against his, shoving with all her might.

If he hadn't already been off balance, she probably wouldn't have affected him at all. But she caught him as he turned, and her weight, with running force behind it, carried him to the bed and they fell across it together.

He twisted, trying to get up, trying to get away from her clinging arms. But she had already done enough damage. She couldn't let anything else happen to him.

His struggles grew weaker. She could feel his strength ebbing and cradled his head against her breast, crooning like a mother over a sick child. She felt his body give in to the total relaxation: of sleep, and still she didn't let him go. The hands that stroked his face and his back continued to move, slower and slower.

She wasn't fully conscious when she rose from the


bed. Seconds later, she began cleaning and bandaging


his hands. She was even too tired to cry when she saw


the deep, ragged cuts on his knuckles and palms. Once
she had them tightly wrapped, she took his hands in
hers and held them against her face, rocking back and
forth.

Just then he stirred and groaned in his sleep, and she slid down beside him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's all right, Danny," she whispered, her voice so hoarse it was barely audible. "I'm here. I'm here."

She would clean up the cabin in a minute, she told herself. She would try to think, try to decide what to do, in a minute. She would...

She didn't manage to complete the thought before sleep claimed her.

Amanda was dreaming. Strangely, she was aware that it was a dream, but she didn't care. It was the most beautiful dream she had ever had. She and Danny were walking in the woods. The sun was shining, streaming down through the trees, turning everything golden.

She had never felt so happy, so carefree. Danny was laughing and talking, communicating without effort, free at last of the dreadful hesitation.

Then, with love shining from his green eyes, he picked her up and whirled her around. In slow motion they fell together to the soft grass. Their eyes met for an endless moment, then Danny was kissing her, touching her, loving her.

She moved into each caress, feeling his warmth surround her. In the way of dreams, their clothes melted away, and they were lying naked together in the grass, the warm sun stroking their limbs.

The fire inside her blazed and grew fierce. She placed her slender hands over the large ones at her breasts and pressed them closer, moving her lower body against the strength of his.

Moaning, she felt the heat of him press against her. She needed more, infinitely more. She needed it all.

Later, she was never sure when the dream merged with reality. She knew her eyes were open. She knew Danny's strong, hard body was pressed against hers, the naked flesh searing her. She may have even begun to protest. But at that moment, his lips covered hers, and it was so achingly beautiful, she lost all thought. She could only feel. His touch banished any objection she might have made in a saner moment. There was no regret, no shame now. Too much power and beauty were contained in their loving to allow the existence of such weak emotions.

When he entered her at last, Amanda cried out with the agonizing sweetness of it. They merged and became one entity in search of a single goal.

As the tension built, she reached desperately for something just beyond her grasp, the suddenly, explosively, she found it, and it took her away from reality, giving her a taste of immortality.

She was only half-conscious when she felt Danny reach down and pull the covers over them both. Sh6 smiled. He was taking care of her. Then she fell asleep again.

The day was gray with early morning mist when she woke again. She began to stretch, then she remembered. No matter how she tried, she couldn't stop a momentary feeling of guilt. But, stubbornly, she rejected it. It was right. She and Danny belonged together. She didn't care what the world would think of them because so often the world was wrong. Only she and Danny were qualified to judge what they had together.

It was only then, when she felt strength and purpose enter her, that she remembered the medication. Catching her breath, she turned her head and found herself gazing into the cold, angry eyes of a stranger.

Chapter Ten

Daniel Phillips stared into the eyes of the woman lying beside him. He held his gaze steady, fighting his chaotic thoughts.

Think calmly, he told himself, shifting his gaze to the room around him. There was an explanation for everything.

He could feel the woman watching him closely and returned his gaze to her. Suddenly he frowned. Why did she look frightened?

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice raspy.

Her blue eyes clouded with the question. Why did it disturb her so much? Moving abruptly, he threw back the cover and picked up the clothes from the floor beside the bed, his eyes trained on the woman as he pulled them on.

The clothes were his; logic told him that. But he didn't recognize them any more than he recognized the woman.

Suddenly his movements stopped. One sleeve of the white shirt was smeared with blood. For the first time, he noticed the bandages on his hands.

Daniel didn't move. It was very important that he not let her know how panicky he felt. If he pretended to be sane, he told himself, sanity would come. There was an explanation for everything, he told himself again. All he had to do was find it.

Lord, he thought, running a hand through his hair, he must have gone on the bender of all benders last night. All the times he had dunked Kyle's head under cold water to sober him came back to Daniel. Was this how his brother had felt the morning after?

A movement caught his peripheral vision. Bringing his gaze back to the woman on the bed, he saw her inhale deeply, then she threw back the blanket she had held clutched to her breasts and stepped from the bed.

Daniel drew in a sharp breath. Even drunk, he hadn't lost his taste. She was perfect. Her breasts were round and firm, the rest of her body small and shapely. The creamy texture of her skin shone in the morning light.

"Could you not watch me so closely?" she asked quietly, interrupting his examination.

With an effort, he glanced away. Her voice was as soft as her skin looked. But he was puzzled by her attitude. Had she been drunk the night before also? Was their togetherness as much a surprise to her as it was to him?

Lord, he thought suddenly, he hoped he hadn't promised her anything. That was the kind of stunt his brother pulled, much to the regret of Darnel's bank.

When the rustle of clothing stopped, Daniel turned back to the woman. He stared at her for a moment in silence, then he shrugged his stiff shoulder muscles.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to fill me in on a few things," he said quietly, struggling to sound sure of himself. "I seem to have lost last night....no reflections on your charm, I'm sure."

Briefly, she closed her eyes, as though something he said had hurt her. He frowned. "Who are you?" he asked again. "How did we get here?" He glanced around the room. "Just exactly where are we?"

She cleared her throat. nervously. "I'm Man— Amanda Timbers. We're in Nevada. We drove here last night after we left Greenleigh."

He frowned as a sharp pain pierced his temple.
Rubbing his brow, he searched his memory, trying to
recall this woman. What was Greenleigh? And what
was he doing in Nevada? But it was no use. The last
thing he could remember was seeing his father off on
a business trip. He and Kyle had stood together,
watching the private jet take off from the small landing strip

"For crissake, Dan, will you get a move on." Daniel didn't even glance at his brother. He stared after the plane until it disappeared in the cloudy distance.

"Gina's coming to pick me up in an hour," Kyle said, "and I'm here giving Dad the grand goodbye. I knew I should have brought the Jag."

Daniel turned reluctantly away from the stretch of tarmac. "Sam said they would probably run into turbulence over Colorado," he said, his voice distracted.

"The old man knows what he's doing," Kyle said as they walked toward the waiting limousine. "And Sam has been his pilot for a lot of years. He wouldn't take off if there was a real problem. Do you think you can keep the plane out of trouble? Lighten up for heaven's sake." As they stepped into the back of the car, Kyle said to the driver, "Don't spare the horses, Carlo. I've got a date with an angel."

"They're all angels to you," Daniel said, chuckling.

"Gina's different." Kyle glanced at his watch. "I would have been home already if I had brought my own car."

"That Jaguar will kill you one of these days, then the only angel you'll have to worry about is the one with the book of records."

Kyle made a rude gesture. "Will you stop trying to take care of the whole world, big brother? You worry about Dad; you worry about me. Work and worry— that's what will kill you... or make you lose your hair."

Daniel smiled. "No big loss. I don't have cute curls that drive women wild."

"It's not only my curls that drive women wild. They know that if they stick with Kyle Phillips, the sky's the limit. Why don't you stop being such a sourpuss and let me fix you up with Gina's roommate? She's got legs that would stop a truck."

Daniel shook his head, laughing at his brother's exaggerated expression of lust. "I believe I'll pass on the legs... if you'll remember, I'm a breast man. Besides, I think there's some kind of rule that says there can only be one heartthrob per family. If I became one too, it would throw nature off balance."

Daniel thought of the conversation later as he stood in the doorway of his study and waved good-night to Kyle and Gina. His brother was twenty-one, but at times Daniel wondered if Kyle's brain had caught up with his body. He liked to see Kyle have a good time, but he wondered what would happen when it was time for him to settle down. Would he be able to hold his own in the business world?

Walking back into the study, he sat behind a wide walnut desk. With a frown, he accepted part of the responsibility for Kyle's behavior. Early in his life, he had gotten into the habit of taking care of his brother. Someday Kyle would have to learn to take care of himself.

Shaking his head, he picked up a paper from the desk. His best course would be to take Kyle's advice and stop worrying. His brother was adored by every woman he met and liked by every man. His charm was irresistible. Daniel grinned. Kyle would make a damn good used-car salesman.

Leaning back in the tall leather chair, he decided he and his brother had each been given certain gifts at the moment of conception. Kyle's was the ability to get along well with others. Daniel's gift was the ability to look at an idea and assess its value. Work was his specialty. He would have to take care to use that gift, now and in the future. The future...

The pain in his temple spread to become a throbbing ache. He walked stiffly a few paces forward then caught his reflection in a piece of the shattered mirror that hung on the wall. Something was very wrong, he thought, his pulse beating erratically. He glanced up to find the woman watching him closely.

"How old am I?" he asked abruptly as a vague suspicion took shape.

"Thirty-nine."

He closed his eyes tightly. Thirty-nine! He didn't doubt her because somehow he had known. He was remembering his life when he was twenty-eight. Eleven years were missing. Damn it, eleven years gone as though they had never existed.

"Somehow I get the idea I didn't pick you up in a bar," he said dryly, then glanced away from the pain in her eyes. "Tell me everything you know," he said, the words coming out harsh. "Tell me how we met. What I was doing. Don't leave anything out."

He had to get it straightened out. He had to know. Whether he liked it or not, this woman was the only immediate link to his past.

She sat on the bed, staring at the slender hands that were folded in her lap. "I've known you for a couple of months," she said quietly. "I met you when I took a job as bookkeeper at Greenleigh Acres."

"Greenleigh Acres? You said that before. What exactly is it?"

"It's—" She broke off, looking uncomfortable. "It's a kind of resort. You had been...ill for about six months before I met you."

"Be specific," he said tightly. "What kind of illness?"

She drew in a long breath and closed her eyes. "You have a degenerative brain disease," she said in a rush. "When I met you, you had the mental capacity of a six-year-old child."

Moving quickly, she knelt beside him, her blue eyes showing panic. "I took you out," she said urgently. "It was wrong because I forgot to give you your medication and... Oh God, they said you couldn't live without it. I've got to take you back. Last night you smashed all the drug I had. We've got to go back before it's too late. I can't—"

"That's enough," he said, grabbing her shoulders. "Calm down."

"But—"

"Shut up," he said, his voice harsh. "Let me think a minute."

He glanced at the satchel on the table, at the broken glass spilling from it. Surveying the room, he saw again the broken mirror. Had he done that? He must have gone crazy.

He forced himself to think logically. He could beat this, he told himself. All he had to do was stay calm.

Meeting her gaze, he said, "If this brain disorder is degenerative, why is my mind all right today? The only thing wrong with me is my memory. That will come back as soon as my head is clearer." It had to, he added silently.

She stood, walked two steps away, then swung back to face him. "I don't know what's happening. That's what scares me so much. It could be some kind of remission. Ted said no one knew how the brain worked." Her lower lip trembled slightly, making her look vulnerable. "But you could be in a period of lucidity before—" She broke off, closing her eyes tightly.

"Before death," he finished with a sardonic smile.

"Damn you!" she said, rounding on him. "Don't you dare smile. My God, you're a cold-blooded bastard. Can't you see I'm terrified? If anything happens, it's my fault. I'm the one who convinced you to leave."

His eyes narrowed speculatively. "Why would you do something like that?"

She rubbed her neck, avoiding his eyes. "I found out that people with your disease—Sutherland's Complex—only live for approximately two years after the first symptoms appear." She shrugged. "I decided ... I decided if you had to die, you should do it in freedom."

"You took a lot on yourself," he murmured, wondering about her motives. There was something she wasn't telling him. "Who's Ted?"

She looked exhausted as she brushed her hair back with one hand. "Dr. Ted Sutherland. He owns Greenleigh. He discovered your disorder and developed a drug that would halt its progress... temporarily."

He added the information to his scanty supply. For a few moments he was silent. Then he glanced up. "You sound sincere. In fact, you almost convince me—"

"Thank you so much," she muttered, her eyes blazing.

"—but not quite," he finished as though she hadn't spoken. "Too much doesn't fit. What kind of doctor would turn a patient over to a bookkeeper? And what about my father and Kyle? You're not trying to tell me you took me with their blessing?"

"Kyle?"

His lips tightened. He had almost begun to believe she was merely confused, but she was pretending she didn't know about Kyle.

"My brother," he said coldly. "Who are you? You couldn't be from this Greenleigh place, or you would know Kyle."

She shook her head, frowning. "I didn't know. They told me you hadn't had a visitor in the six months before I arrived. I... I just assumed you had no family."

He studied her silently. "Okay, let's say you're telling the truth. That still doesn't explain why they turned me over to you."

"They didn't," she whispered. There was only a minute pause, then she glanced up, meeting his eyes with her chin raised. "I took you out in the trunk of my car."

He leaned back in the chair, his eyes narrowing. "It seems we had quite an adventure. I'm sorry I can't remember it." The look she gave him was almost hateful. "So out of the goodness of your heart, you decided to make an idiot's last days happy. Is that the way it was?"

"Don't say that!" she said furiously. "Danny wasn't—you weren't an idiot," She ran a trembling hand across her face. "I can't explain. It hit me hard when I found out he... when I found out you were going to die. I simply couldn't stand the way you were stashed away in that luxurious prison. John called it a velvet zoo. They took care of you and gave you everything you needed, but no one talked to you or listened to you. They watched every move you made. They treated you as though, because your brain was damaged, you had no emotions, no human dignity."

He was silent for a moment, considering her explanation. "Who is John?"

She smiled. "He's a wonderful old man. Danny. . .you called him John J. Pike. Never John or even Mr. Pike. It was always John J. Pike."

"You seem to have split me into two people," he said wryly. "You called me Danny then."

She nodded and turned away, but not before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. "You're not two people," she whispered, her voice husky. "Danny's gone." Her hands clenched into fists. "And I'm so scared for him."

She swung around. "We've got to do something. The best medical men in the country said you had extensive brain damage. We can't doubt that. You seem to be an intelligent, logical man. If this is some sort of remission, then the doctors need to know about it. It may help others. But if it's not... if your condition is getting worse, then you need immediate medical attention."