Addicted To Him (Man Season) (4 page)

“I know all about his parents.”

“I see. And then having that Ned
Grant as his guardian; I can’t tell you how often I’ve had clashes with that
cur over Fleet’s upbringing. But that was years ago. Fleet is a grown man now.
He has to make his own decisions.”

“I don’t understand. He’s a wealthy
producer. Hasn’t he been making his own decisions in all that?”

“Sometimes, yes, but the boy, forgive
me, the man lets Ned Grant wield too much power over him. I’m sorry. I really
shouldn’t be talking about these matters. Are you ready to go home?”

“Sure. I like you,
Digby
, I hope you don’t mind my saying so.”

“No, Miss, not at all. It isn’t every
day that a lovely young
lass
tells me such a nice
thing. I like you, as well. I think you’re just the sort of woman Fleet needs;
which of course, means Ned Grant will hate you at first sight. Watch out for
him, if you ever have the bad fortune of meeting him.”

“I will.”

He drove her back to the little blue
house on
Partridge Street
, and was quite admiring of her
mother’s landscaping, and her mother, too, who was pulling weeds by the back
yard arbor.

Callie came walking towards them,
wearing her usual weary expression. But when her eyes met Digby’s they lit up
like sparklers.

“Who’s this now,
Tegan
?”

“This is
Digby
,
Fleet’s … what should I call you?”

“
Butler
would be the correct term.”

“Okay, though it seems a bit
Old World
for
California
.”

“Quite a few Californians have
butlers, darling. I’m glad to meet you, Mr.
Digby
.”

“The same to you, Mrs. St. Clair.
Tegan
has
told me quite a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Yes, yes, quite.”

“
Digby
was
admiring your flowers, Mom. He’s a gardener, too.”

“Oh, would you like to see some new plants
I’ve just put in?”

“Yes, I’d love to.”

He stepped out of the car, followed
her to the back yard.
Tegan
felt a bit invisible.

“I guess I’ll go inside,” she yelled
to Callie.

“You do that, honey. See you later.”

Tegan
stood there, unbelieving. Her mom
hadn’t looked twice at a man in years and there she was chatting up
Digby
like a schoolgirl. Was it spring or something?

She entered the
Cape Cod
style house, climbed the narrow
stairs up to her bedroom. It was a private haven; the windows surrounded by sheltering
poplars and palms but still open enough so that the sun could slip through and
heat up her shivery bones. The bed was built into the wall, with curtains she
could close for warmth. The rest of the room reminded her of a Swedish log
cabin with its unvarnished wood paneling and red patterned rugs.

She perused her wardrobe for some
fresh duds, realized she didn’t have that much clothes. Not like other women.
She’d buy something on clearance, wear it a few times then take it to Goodwill.
And her shoes were sensible flats she could be comfortable in at work. There
wasn’t one pair of heels or anything glamorous in her closet. The only thing
she ever splurged on was lingerie and she wasn’t sure why, except that it made
her feel sexy and kind of wicked.

She threw on some jeans and a faded T
shirt and snuggled up on the bed with a dog-eared copy of
A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn
that she’d found in a second hand shop a few days before.

She couldn’t get past the first
chapter – her mind was too busy trying to solve mysteries. Why had Fleet run
out on her? No emergency could be so dire if a man truly wanted to stay with a
girl. It’d been an excuse; she knew that. She felt used, and angry and hurt.
And yet she was desperate to be near him again, to breathe in the scent of him,
to taste the tangy sweet juices of his kisses, to feel the length of him
sinking into her.

Tegan
finally replaced the book; sat
crying on her bed until the tears formed a heart-shaped stain on her shirt.

“This won’t do!” she fussed. Then she
changed into a black bra and bikini briefs, and a pretty red dress with
matching ballerina flats, washed her face, applied her regular make-up and
headed outside to catch the bus on the corner. Callie and
Digby
were still in the garden, talking. Callie looked up, surprised to see
Tegan
on the bus. She waved;
Tegan
nodded then turned her head away. She felt ashamed of herself; deep down she
was jealous that her mom had made an acquaintance. Maybe she wasn’t afraid for
Callie to be alone – maybe she was afraid SHE would be left alone.

“I told you I’d cover you today if
you wanted to sleep in. What happened? Wasn’t he any good?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, Kerry,
if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, I understand. I’ve been in that
boat often enough myself. It’s getting really hard to find a date worth a damn
in this town! I’ve been thinking of trying one of those online sites.”

Tegan
pretended to listen to his ongoing
chatter. She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes, imagining herself in a rose
garden somewhere warm and sunny, near an azure sea.
Monte Carlo
, maybe, or
Bermuda
; anywhere but where she was.

Kerry left early to attend a friend’s
wedding in West Hollywood, leaving her in charge of the shop. She dutifully
went over the next day’s deliveries and orders. Then her mind wandered; she
began thinking it was about time she shelled out some dough for a car. How
she’d managed to survive six months without one in LA was a miracle but her
last one had petered out on the PCH in the middle of a stormy summer night,
stranding her in
Malibu
without a way home. She’d finally
curled up in a cove near the beach to ride it out, and almost got stabbed by a
homeless guy who’d claimed the place for his own. Such was life in sweet old
Southern California
.

Around seven she began to stare at
Fleet’s building, out of habit; waiting for him to exit and hop into the
Jaguar. It was there, had been since she got to work, but she couldn’t bring
herself to boldly march over there and ask to see him. If he’d crossed her off
as a mistake, she wasn’t about to make things worse by embarrassing herself in
front of his employees.

Seven passed;
Tegan
shrugged, started to close up for the night. It was near dark. Maybe she should
pack up her few things and buy a ticket to paradise – just to give herself a
present. That’s something she’d never done.

When she moved to lock the doors she
thought she saw a silhouette of a man under the streetlight but when she looked
again, it was gone. There was a full moon rising above the tall buildings. It
cast an icy glaze over the sidewalks, illuminating specks of glass in the
concrete. The result was magical;
Tegan
stood still
for a moment, caught in the glow.

Then she saw him; he moved like a
panther in the black shadows on the street. It was Fleet, no mistaking that.
She unlocked the doors, stood to face him, hoping he’d come to apologize.

But as soon as their eyes caught each
other he was upon her. His hands ripped the red dress to shreds as he scooted
her back into the shop.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

His mouth smothered her words, his
kisses rough and grasping and hotter than fire. He sucked at her lips as his
hands kneaded her flesh; his heated breath sent chills through her, made her
blood pound in her ears. He was desperate for her, and couldn’t seem to think
beyond that need. She readily gave herself up to him, her skin hungry for his
touch. As before, it was electric, like lightning falling upon them. He laid
her down on the floor; strew rose petals all about her, pricking his fingers on
the thorns. He spied a pair of garden scissors on a shelf, took them and knelt
above her. She gasped, fearing what he was about to do. He yanked up her
tattered dress, sliced the seam of her panties. Then he lunged for her, began
to kiss her thighs, darting his tongue in and out until she screamed for mercy.
But he would not give it. He rose up, held her face over him, letting her take
him forcibly into her mouth and gnaw at him with a raging passion. They were
lost in a blind, uncontrollable fit of desire, neither wanting words or
thoughts to get in the way of the feelings, the raw, primitive force of emotion
that was consuming them both.

Once he was on the edge of exploding
he pulled her off him and laid her back down then he slammed into her like a
hammer. She howled at the moon as her orgasms sent her spiraling into the sky.
He stopped for a moment just to savor the sound of her voice.

“Don’t stop! Not now! Please!”

He began again, more determined than
before. The shop became a blur; nothing existed anymore. They were one with
each other, two sides of the same flesh, the emotions melded as tightly as the
bodies. Fleet let out a growl so loud it hurt her ears but she twisted to make
him yell some more.

“Damn, woman!” he cried, “You never
quit!”

“I know, but you love it, right?”

“Yeah, I do. I love you,
Tegan
.”

She didn’t expect that. Didn’t think
he would utter those three words. True, her heart had given itself up to him
even before she’d met him but she vaguely imagined that he was only after her
for the thrill of the chase, and once that was over he’d move on. It didn’t
occur to her that he could actually love her.

Fleet splattered his body over the
rose petals, tried to calm the erratic rhythm of his heart. He looked pale
suddenly, and sick.

“What’s wrong?”
Tegan
cried as she swathed him in her soft, sweaty arms.

“I don’t know … I feel strange.
Ill
…
Tegan
,
call
Digby
!”

“There’s no time! I’m getting you to
the hospital!”

She grabbed a raincoat from the back
room and wrapped it about her ragged dress then she fumbled in his pockets,
looking for his keys.

“No, no hospitals! I don’t want Ned
to know! Take me home!”

She peered into the azure eyes; they
were glazed with fear and pain. She could see there was no use, or time, in
arguing.

“Okay, but I’m calling Mom once we
get there!”

She helped him rise, and managed to
walk him to the Jaguar. Then she hurried back to close up the shop. Kerry might
be furious when he saw the mess, but knowing him he’d think it was cool that
they made out on his floor.

Tegan
started the engine, hoping she could
handle the temperamental car. Fleet curled up in the passenger seat, heaving
and coughing. Finally, he shot a stream of almost clear vomit onto the
floorboard.

“I never wanted you to see me like
this,
Tegan
.”

“It was bound to happen sometime. You
are a drug addict, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m nosy. I saw the pill bottles in
your medicine cabinet. Why do you take them? Is it because of your mother?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it. But running
a movie studio is so damned stressful. I couldn’t cope. My uncle, Ned, is a
doctor. He started giving me prescriptions, said they wouldn’t hurt me. I guess
he’s right. They don’t hurt me … as long as I keep taking them. But if I try to
stop … that’s when the trouble starts!”

“And he won’t help you get off of
them?”

“Why should he? The more I take the
richer he gets.”

“
Digby
told
me to watch out for Ned Grant. I think I can see why.”

“He said that? Digby’s a
straight-shooter! I should’ve listened to him years ago. But it’s too late
now.”

“It’s never too late, as long as
you’re breathing, Fleet! I’ll get you off those pills! I swear I will!”

She steered the Jaguar out onto the
PCH. She glanced over, caught an admiring expression on his face, almost as if
he was proud of her. She patted his cheek and smiled. Inside though, she was
shaking with fear. Her mind recalling the horror of watching her beloved
father, Dale, succumb to drug addiction in a failed effort to beat cancer. She
and Callie had tried unsuccessfully to help him get off the pills. When he died
it was as much from the amount of chemicals in his system as the insidious
spread of the disease. She wasn’t sure she could handle going through all that
again. But she had to try, for Fleet’s sake. She wanted him whole and healthy,
and strong enough to be the father of her children. Wow – that thought floored
her. She hadn’t realized she wanted kids until then.