Familiar Strangers (5 page)

“So? My readers are intelligent women and there is nothing wrong with females trying new things. It’s a wonderful opportunity for me, and I wish you wouldn’t make fun of me.”

He could tell she was serious and decided to back off for the moment. There were more important things to worry over than her next “how to” book. Though her writing any book amazed the hell out of him when she’d first started.

He’d been the one to nickname her “Duchess” because of her cool class, unflappable determination, and natural beauty. The name had stuck and, as a joke, she’d used it for the title of her first “how to” book. Readers and critics alike loved it, and she’d been on a roll ever since.

“Okay. I promise no more jokes about your newest masterpiece. Just tell me one thing.” He held up a hand to show truce. “Who the hell is going to teach you everything you need to know about camping and fishing?”

She hesitated over her answer and turned toward the pond again, mumbling her reply.

“What? Speak up, Duchess. Couldn’t understand you.” At least he hoped he’d gotten it wrong.

“Him,” she almost howled, pointing to the darkened house across the still water. “Galen Matthews is supposed to teach me everything I need to know.”

Damon rose and quickly walked to where Regin stood on the porch. He gently but firmly grasped her bare shoulders and forced her to face him. “Who? And what is he teaching you?” he asked, but already knew the answers.

Tatum had told him about Galen Matthews. He knew everything there was to know about the man, and it wasn’t much. Most of Matthews’ information had remained classified due to his tenure with the SEALS. After his retirement, the information was just as thin. He’d formed a security company, hired former military men, and then proceeded to bust up corporate espionage rings, financial hackers, and virus inventors. The man was good, damn good, and no one had reported any complaints. He always got his man. With Matthews’ undeniable success rate, he was the best, according to sources. But Damon was here to determine that fact for himself.

****


Regin knew if she gave Damon information as simple as the man’s name, he’d have his complete history including what he wore to bed. It wasn’t that she minded him being so protective, but sometimes he went too far and looked too hard.

There was nothing sinister about Galen Matthews unless you counted being crude, vulgar, and sexually explicit or dangerous. These qualities were the only impression he had left her with on their first and only meeting. A meeting she was determined to forever block from her mind.

“Why does it bother you so much to have this man show you the ropes for the book?” her friend asked. “You normally love this part. Gets your juices flowing, you always tell me. What’s so different about this guy?”

Instead of answering, she walked away from Damon, sat down in the old-fashioned porch swing, and tried to gather her thoughts in a way that would make sense, not only to her closest friend, but to herself, as well.

“He’s familiar to me, Damon,” she looked around to ensure their privacy. “I’m not sure how to explain it, but he is. I saw him once before at a bar in Killeen right before I left. The minute I looked at him, I had to get away. He frightened me,” she stopped and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of him, but of what he might be to me.” Her laughter rang out softy in the star filled night.

It really is lovely here, she thought. In the background she heard the sound of waves lapping against the shore, while lightning bugs glowed on and off around them. No traffic to break the stillness of the night.

“So what do you think it means?” He pushed. “How has he acted toward you?”

Again she shrugged her shoulders. “He hates me or, at the very least, thinks I’m a nuisance.” “No one ever hates you. You’re too outgoing and personable for anyone to take a dislike to. Like a damn caffeine addicted Pollyanna.” He shot a grin at her. “Normally you’re surrounded by people wanting to be friends with you or, in the case of men, something more intimate. Now you’re telling me a man you’ve seen only once before today hates you?” Damon shifted his position so their eyes met. “Duchess, have you given this man any reason to dislike you?”
“No, not really. I don’t think he even saw me that night. He was with a group of men having dinner and drinks. Why would he notice me?” Damon laughed before he spoke. “There is a very good reason he or any other man would notice you, Duchess. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and you light up a room simply by being in it.”

“Why did you go from being all alpha dog peeing on a tree to pimping me out to a stranger?” Regin asked, avoiding the compliments.


“I’ve never once urinated on a tree or any other vegetation.” He protested too innocently while searching the tree line.

“Yeah, right, honesty time,” she persisted, with a poke to his arm.

“You think there’s something I’m hiding from you?” A wounded expression crossed his handsome face.

Pity for her friend just wasn’t going to happen. “I know you’re hiding something from me. The big question is what?”

“Aww, honey.” All the teasing left his voice. “I didn’t want to have to tell you about the two blondes in the hot tub down in Mexico. I know that’s supposed to be our place.”

Regin shot him a disgusted look.

Finally he gave in. “I just like knowing you won’t be out here all alone. That you have someone to watch you. Makes me feel better leaving you here.”

He crossed the porch to sit with her in the swing and lifted one arm to tenderly enfold her in his embrace. Damon then leaned back, stretching his long jean clad legs in front so he could gently push.

Regin tucked her head into the familiar curve of his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Why can’t I fall in love you?”

“Ah, baby, don’t do this.”

Though she knew it wouldn’t be good for either one of them to go down this road again, she couldn’t help herself.

They’d made their choices a long time ago and both had learned to be happy within the confines of friendship. But she still wanted to hear that from him. She tilted her head to peer at him. “Remind me why again? Just to refresh my memory.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “You and I would never make it as lovers. We are too different and want entirely different things from our lives.”

“You don’t know what you want. Look what happened with Tatum?” she pointed out. Immediately he drew away. “No, don’t leave me. We’ve never really talked about it, and now is as good a time as any.”

She unfolded her arms and patted his thigh gently.

“You think you know what you want, Damon. You’ve been told exactly what to look for. Just because something works for your family, doesn’t mean it’s going to work for you. Tatum wasn’t right for you and, if you were honest with yourself, you’d admit it. She and Elliot compliment each other. They fight, yell, laugh, and have a good time trying to one up the other.”

She ignored the way he tensed at the sound of Elliot’s name. “You would never have been able to relax enough to do any of those things with her. You expected her to be perfect based on the way she looked and she’s far from it.”

“And what about you?” he asked. “At least I gave having a relationship a chance. You’ve never even gotten to the point of having a second date.” His eyes narrowed.

She pretended to think it over. After a few minutes, she abruptly started to laugh. “You know you’re right,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “Where the hell do I get off giving anyone love advice? My track record, as we both know, sucks.”

Regin turned and gave him a wide cheeky grin. “You’ve spoiled me for other men. I’ll never love any man the way I love you.” She smiled and pressed her lips to his cheek.

The sound of a man clearing his throat surprised her and made Damon jump to his feet, knocking her to the ground.

“Sorry, Duchess. Your damned neighbor has a light foot.” Damon extended his hand to help her out of the tangle she was lying in on the porch.

Regin clasped his hand in her own and let him pull her to her feet.

She didn’t for one minute believe Galen had just walked up. She did wonder how much he’d heard and prayed he’d heard only the last few minutes.

She turned to glare at him, putting her hands on her hips, and demanded. “What the hell do you want?”

Damon was shocked to hear the anger in Regin’s voice. Not that he didn’t think she could get mad, but he hadn’t expected her to get angry with the man for simply walking up to the house. If the two continued on this way, she would be off the island and away from Galen’s protection before the week was up. It was up to him to diffuse the situation.

He wrapped his left arm around Regin’s waist to prevent her from leaving and reached out with his right to shake the hand of the man staring daggers at him. “Damon Taylor. I’m a friend of the Duchess here.” He nodded to Regin, who was trying to subtly wiggle her way out of his grasp. She shot a look of distrust toward their uninvited guest.

“Don’t bother being nice to him or he’ll think you’re hitting on him.” With that parting shot, she wrenched free and stomped toward the house, leaving Damon’s mouth hanging open and Galen ready to leap after her.

Damon grasped Galen’s arm to keep him from charging after her. “Don’t even think of going near her. Not until we talk.”

He released Galen’s arm and nodded his head toward the path. “Let’s walk, Matthews, and you can tell me if you’re worth the money I’m spending. More importantly, what are you going to do to keep her alive?”

Instead of answering him, Galen walked lightning fast toward the pond. Damon followed. When they reached the tree line, Galen turned and pulled Damon by his white oxford shirt to his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Taylor?” Galen demanded.

No one dared talk to him this way. He was Damon Taylor, CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation. He didn’t answer questions, he asked them. “I’m keeping an eye on Regin, which is more than what you’re doing,” he said, unclenching Galen’s fingers from his now wrinkled shirt. “What the hell did you say to her? She already thinks you hate her.”

At the last statement, Galen’s head did pop up. He looked even more fascinated by the conversation, but just as quickly, he lowered his eyelids shutting down again. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks or how she feels. The only thing that matters is that I keep her alive.”

He lifted his head and met Damon’s gaze. “In order for me to do that, you’re going to be gone tomorrow. No questions asked or I walk. You can’t be here. Makes one more person I have to baby-sit, not to mention, you’ll be in my way. You’re cannon fodder, Taylor.” He paused to let the statement sink in, then continued. “Let me know now if this is going to be a problem, cause I don’t give a damn one way or another who spies on your whor-...woman. I get paid either way.” Galen turned and stared at the water.

The security man must have been preoccupied or he would have seen Damon’s fist heading straight for his jaw. “She’s not my whore, you bastard. She’s my best friend.”

Galen reacted to the blow before Damon’s fist even connected with his bone. He swung his left arm out to block the next hit, while his right arm took aim at Damon’s nose.
Cracking bone and freely flowing blood from that less than perfect nose provided Galen considerable pleasure. The cocky bodyguard grinned from ear to ear. Before he could get too happy, Damon launched another swift right to his cheekbone and hoped he left Galen seeing stars. Then Damon backed a few steps away, breathing in ragged gasps. “Don’t you ever call her names,” he snarled. “She deserves more respect than that.”

“Son of a bitch,” Galen growled as he wiped the blood from his split lip. “I ought to kick your ass to Texas and back.”

Without another word, Damon launched himself at Galen and felt another rush of pleasure as they went toppling down onto the sand—fists and curses flew out in the night.

The fight was on.


****

Ten minutes later a wolf whistle broke through the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Both men stopped, looked over at one another, and dropped to the ground grinning. In the mysterious way of men all over the world, they had resolved their differences with their fists. Lying on their backs and fighting to draw breath into battered and bruised bodies, neither one said a word. Everything that needed to be said had been spoken through physical communication.

Where the hell the preppy had learned to fight so dirty, Galen wondered. When he heard the other man curse, Galen looked up and managed to focus his bleary gaze. Immediately, he regretted his renewed vision because sitting not five feet away was Regin Neff, happily munching on a bowl of popcorn and sipping a beer.

Earlier he would have sworn on a stack of bibles that Damon and she were lovers, but the emotion behind the other man’s terse statement and strong right hook called him a liar. He usually didn’t let personal feelings get in the way of a job, but seeing Regin launch herself half naked into Damon’s waiting arms had shot his objectivity to hell.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she chirped. “I was just getting into it. Too bad I don’t have someone to place bets with.” She threw a handful of popcorn in the air and attempted to catch it with her mouth, missing every kernel. “Of course if you really want to make it good,” she continued without missing a beat, “you could both strip, jump in the pond, and wrestle in the mud for a while. I’ll keep score.”

“Duchess.” Damon said, getting slowly to his feet. “Don’t push your luck or you’ll be the one jumping into the pond.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Galen sat and watched him with a bemused expression.

They had both proven their points and no animosity remained between them. “In fact, I have a very strong feeling Mr. Matthews would be more than delighted to help me.”

Galen was quick to catch on, even if it was with a man he’d been doing his best to beat the crap out of five minutes earlier. The honor of men was at stake as he stood and took several deliberate steps toward Regin. Her eyes widened in comprehension.

“Oh no,” she said, jumping to her feet and stepping quickly away from him, not seeing Damon side step and come up behind her. She pivoted away and ran straight into Damon’s chest.

“Damon!” she warned. “Don’t you dare. I didn’t start the pissing contest that made you two goofballs fight. I just took advantage of the free entertainment. You two could have peed on a tree and saved yourselves the pain.”

She turned away from Damon and backed straight into Galen’s arms. In one smooth move, he lifted her over his shoulder and walked toward the pond. Regin wiggled like a worm, but she was no match for Galen’s hold.

“Ah...Damon a little help here, please,” she pleaded.

Damon grinned as he sauntered beside them. “You got yourself into this one, Duchess, now you have to get yourself out.” He shook his finger and continued after them. “Maybe you should remember that in case you decide to make another nude mud wrestling joke.”

Her body continued to bob up and down in rhythm to Galen’s slow, deliberate walk. Pleading, bribing, and threatening her friend wasn’t working. Damon trailed beside them, smiling.

Galen stopped beside the pond, swung Regin over his shoulder and dropped her butt first into the murky water.

Cold water rushed over her body, and she had just enough warning to draw in a breath and close her mouth before she swallowed any of the nasty stuff. The icy moisture penetrated her thin workout shorts and top. Why hadn’t she just sat on the porch and kept her mouth shut? Then she wouldn’t be in water over her head with the most insufferable and sexy man she’d ever met waiting to drown her. Damon she could handle. She was used to him. He might have done the same thing. She couldn’t guess what Galen would do or how far he would go.

Getting drenched wasn’t peachy, but was well worth watching two perfect specimens of manhood sweat and whack each other’s pumped muscles. True, she might have gone a bit over the line by suggesting the mud wrestling. Perhaps the peeing on the tree comment pushed them over the edge.

With revenge on her mind and her lungs bursting, she kicked her legs, pushing herself further down the pond and then up. When her head broke the surface, both men were looking at the place water she’d been thrown in.

Hmmm, she thought, kill two birds with one stone. All she had to do was throw Damon off balance and she’d have both of them as wet as she in no time.

She loudly cleared her throat signaling where she had surfaced. Damon spotted her first, and she saw the relief chase across his face before he masked his concern.

“Took you long enough.” He crossed his arms over his chest with a smug smile pasted on his lips.

Galen didn’t bother to hide his self-satisfied expression. He tucked his bruised and bloodied hands in his back pockets and rocked back on his heels. Every bone in his body might ache tomorrow, but he had never felt better in his life watching Regin wallow in the water.

Throwing Regin into the pond hadn’t been a planned action on his part, but he’d caught the light in Damon’s eyes and acted before giving himself a chance to think. Her dark hair was plastered against her head. Hitting the water had knocked her ponytail to the side, making her look not only wet but drunk. Her clothing was even more plastered to her body than before, which he hadn’t been sure was possible. She looked slick and wet, causing a jolt of lust to shoot straight below his waistline.

Without warning his view of Regin suddenly changed. He watched as if from a distance, while a picture seemed to be laid over Regin. In the new picture, her hair was longer and no longer wet. She was wearing an old-fashioned dress that cinched her waist and pushed her breasts almost above its neckline. Though the image didn’t last more than a few seconds, it shook him to his core.

He shook his head back and forth, trying to dispel the image of her in another time and place.

It wasn’t working.


****

Regin watched Damon sit on the bridge, his feet swinging above the rippling water. Laughter danced in her friend’s eyes. Before she had a chance to blast him for letting some uneducated Cajun manhandle her, Damon gave her his version of a shit-eating grin.

Swimming over toward him with the most pathetic look possible on her face, she pouted, “I could have drowned you know.”

“Could have.”

“You would have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life.”

“Possibly.” He laughed.

“I wouldn’t have even bothered to come back and haunt you.”

“I’d miss you, Duchess.”

“Ahhh.” Regin ducked back under water. She should have known Damon wouldn’t show any remorse. He knew she wouldn’t drown with a cement block tied to her feet. Swimming was her passion. She popped back up through the water and took in the current source of her misery.

Galen stood legs apart, hands on hips, and head tilted to the side with a confused expression on his face. Regin glanced past him to see the moon rising above his shoulder. The haunting disc of light threw a silvery glow across the water. Without the noise of the city pressing down the quiet of nature, she could hear the symphony of nature’s music rising all around. For the first time since arriving, Regin turned an unbiased eye toward her new home.
The music of insects rose and fell as though led by a maestro. The breeze blowing off the water created further harmony, and the waves crashed in accord. It was the most incredible melody ever to grace her ears. It drew her away from the others and allowed her to soar above and join the night in song.

The incredible peace of the place gave her peace as well. She didn’t try and force herself to look beyond what she was experiencing in the moment. It was simply enough to be a part of the exquisiteness of the night.

Regin was so absorbed in the experience, she was only vaguely aware of the silent communication exchanged between the two men. She wasn’t certain when Damon slipped into the night on silent feet, leaving Galen and her alone. But it was Galen’s husky voice that finally broke her trance.

“It’s almost magic.”

She didn’t bother turning around. She was in awe of the show Mother Nature had created. The sky had exploded overhead with millions of stars, creating a canopy of pin lights.

“I feel so humbled.” She turned and made her way out of the water. When she reached the bank, he held out his hand, a silent offer of truce. In this peaceful setting, she couldn’t refuse.

Heat burned her palm where he touched. The unexpected sensation was so shocking she nearly yanked her hand out of his. Quickly glancing up, she saw the same shock mirrored in his expression. He didn’t release her or draw her closer as she sensed he wanted to do. Instead, he pulled her along the shore until they stood at the foot of the bridge facing toward his house.

“No matter how bad things get or what horrible things I see, I can always picture this place and it brings me peace.” His head was tilted back, looking at the stars blinking overhead. He didn’t seem to be aware of his words.

She lifted her own gaze toward the sky. “You’re very blessed then. Peace is hard to come by and even harder to keep once you find it.”

Galen didn’t say anything. He knew of what she spoke. There would be a time and place to bring it all out in the open, but this wasn’t that moment.

No need to mar the perfection of the night. Further words would never do the beauty of this place justice. This evening scene was the same he’d seen thousands of time before, but it never failed to make him feel grateful, yet unworthy each time.

St. Ann Island was his spot, his place of tranquility where the rest of the world couldn’t touch him. It was the vision he kept in his mind’s eye when the job became too ugly. He could always retreat here for a second or two to mentally recharge. He’d never offered to share his oasis with another soul and was mystified with his need to share it with her.