touch my heart (8 page)

“You’re strange,” he replied.

“No, the word is honest.”

“Well, I beg to differ.”

For a moment there was silence. “So how is your hand coming along?”

“It’s doing fine. Can’t you see my handiwork?”

“I didn’t know you could sculpt.”

“As you can see, I’m not very good at it.”

“With your hand as it is now, that would indeed be challenging.” She glanced around the room, noticing a few finished pieces. “You did these before the accident?” she asked, pointing at no piece in particular. Though she immediately realized that she had asked a silly question.

“I completed a bit of my work in high school. My teacher thought I was good, but the lure of the bright lights was a lot more appealing. My drama teacher thought I was talented, as well.”

“So you chose the bright lights?”

“I did. And you don’t have to say it with such disdain. I’m good...
was
good at what I did.”

“I have no doubt you were, but playing an action hero isn’t really proof of your ability to act.”

She immediately realized that she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

His eyes turned surprisingly sad.

Instinctively, she raced over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He stood slowly, the sadness in his eyes changing to pain.

They stared at each other, anticipation sizzling and tension crackling. Then she pulled him gently to her, placing her arms around him. His head dropped to her shoulder and rested there.

She raised a hand, placing it on his head as she touched him softly. His body tensed, coiling like a spring, and then he sighed softly. His body relaxed as if the pain he carried had left him. Inside she moaned, his closeness stirring something inside her she’d thought long buried.

She loved the feel of his body against her own. He was all hardness and male. She ached to run her hand against his firmness, to feel his warmth beneath her palms.

At that moment, he raised his head and looked her full in the eyes, as if to question what was happening between them. But she didn’t want to think logically. She just wanted to feel.

She didn’t give him an answer in words. Instead, she tilted her head upward, placing her lips on his. At first the kiss was a whisper, a soft feathery flicker, a tender connection of cautious lips.

He tasted her.

She tasted him, inhaling at the same time his musky earthy scent.

The pressure of the kiss increased, until his tongue slipped between her parted lips. She groaned with pleasure as heat coursed through her body. She shuddered. His body trembled in response.

She loved the feel of his tongue inside her, exploring, touching, caressing. She captured it, sucking deeply, until his body shivered again. She felt the first stir of his arousal against her leg. She reached down, cupping his hardness with her hand, smiling when it jerked with excitement.

Then he pulled away from her, ending her moment of awakening. Even now, she could still taste the sweetness of his lips.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she finally said.

“I take full blame for what happened. You offered me comfort and I took advantage of you. I promise it won’t happen again.”

His words drenched her in cold water, but she understood what he meant. Their relationship had to remain professional if she were to be successful with his recovery.

She’d also stepped over the boundaries.

“I agree. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again, sir.”

“Well, since you came here to talk to me about my therapy, I promise you that starting tomorrow, I will be at all of my sessions.”

She nodded. “I’m going to go back to my room.”

With that, she turned to walk away. His voice followed her. “I did enjoy the kiss,” he whispered.

She didn’t look back, but for some strange reason, her heart felt light and carefree.

* * *

Dominic watched as Aaliyah walked away. He ached to call her back, to finish what they’d started. But he knew that would only complicate his already shaky relationship with her. But damn, she kissed so well. He could have spent the whole afternoon kissing her and still want more.

He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her hands on him. When she’d cupped his penis, it had taken all his willpower to control himself. He’d been so close to losing control.

He sighed. For some reason, he was being noble. The Dominic of months ago would have taken her right then and there, without any reservations.

But he respected her. He liked her. While she did behave a bit too bossy for his liking, there was something about her that appealed to him.

Maybe it was her innocence and naivety. He kept saying that she was not his type, but on reflection, he wasn’t even sure if he had a type.

He looked around the room, knowing he needed to clean up. It would take him a bit longer with one hand, but he’d get it done, as he always did.

He really needed to stop tossing the clay around in anger. He needed to take a close look at himself. He wasn’t one to lose his temper. He’d always prided himself on the self-control he exhibited under pressure. The circumstances in his life had changed him and he didn’t like what he saw.

When he’d finished cleaning the room, he headed outside. He hadn’t spent any time with Nugget in the past day. He knew the puppy missed him. Nugget always missed him.

When he entered the kennels, he immediately went to Nugget’s tiny compartment. The puppy barely raised his head. Instead, Nugget glanced at him with sad, disappointed eyes. The pup shifted his body and turned his tiny bottom in Dominic’s direction.

Dominic chuckled. So Nugget wasn’t going to be friendly.

He reached for the pup, taking him into his strong hand. Nugget wiggled his tail reluctantly.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you for the past day. I’m human. I was just dealing with some issues. But I promise it won’t happen again. You want to go for a walk?”

The dog’s tail wagged faster. He smiled. He’d been forgiven.

Half an hour later, he sat in his usual spot, looking out to sea. He loved it here on the cliff’s edge. Above the waves, a white egret flew awkwardly, its large feet seeming to slow its movement. Despite this, it dived ungainly downward, eventually rising out of the water with its meal wiggling within its mouth.

He laughed out loud, something he hadn’t done in months. He felt different, lighter. As expected, Aaliyah came to mind. She was taking over his being, tantalizing him with her proprietary behavior. At school, she would have been considered a good girl, and he a bad boy. They were the total opposites, from what he could see. But he could not deny his attraction to her, an attraction he didn’t rightly understand.

In the distance, Nugget barked wildly. He’d found a crab.

Suddenly, the pup yelped and raced in Dominic’s direction. Nugget then came to an abrupt stop, lying on the ground, his paws rubbing his nose.

Cautiously, Dominic kneeled down, tickling the pup’s stomach. Nugget lifted his legs, closed his eyes and relished the attention, his painful encounter with the crab forgotten.

“You ready to go back home?”

Nugget stood and wagged his tail in agreement.

Forgetting his misadventure, the pup raced in the direction of the path that led to the house, stopping briefly to make sure Dominic was following.

It was that time of day he loved most—mealtime— and his excitement about eating never ceased to amuse Dominic. He could only think of very few things that didn’t excite Nugget. The pup was a bundle of endless energy.... Well, most of the time. He quickly remembered the dog’s reaction before their walk.

Tonight, he’d go back to the workshop and work on the sculpture he’d started this afternoon. He’d achieved some progress using his right hand, though at first it had felt awkward.

He reached the end of the path and headed to the kennels, where Nugget was already waiting patiently. He’d opened the nearby storage shed, quickly retrieving the smallest bag, which contained Nugget’s chow. The older dogs had already been fed and lay lazily watching him with indifference.

“Have a good night, boy,” he said, bending to rub the pup’s tummy. Nugget yawned in response and then closed his eyes.

Dominic walked slowly to his room. He’d take a shower and then head to the workshop.

* * *

The next morning, Aaliyah watched as Dominic lifted the weight for a final set and then allowed it to drop with a bang. The tension in the room was evident.

He then rose from the bench with an energy she hadn’t seen the whole morning in him.

“So why couldn’t you have given me that kind of liveliness during our session? You know what? I’m tired of your attitude! There, I’ve said it. And I’m not sorry. I’ve worked with people whose challenges were worse than yours. They worked so hard the impossible happened. I know people don’t believe in miracles. But I do. I’ve seen people who doctors say would never walk again creep, then crawl and then walk.”

She paused for a moment, waiting for him to fire her. But he said nothing, only looked at her with an expression of pure shock as he sat back on the bench.

“So you can sit here and decide what you want. And when you’ve decided, you can let me know because I have no intention of wasting my time on a man who doesn’t even care if he gets better.”

She walked to the door.

She turned and faced him one last time. “You know, if you want to heal, these sessions can’t be about going through the motions. You have to fight. What disappoints me most is that you seem to want to give up without a fight. That’s not the man I know that you are.”

With that, she walked out and slammed the door.

Outside, she breathed deeply. She had no doubt that she’d get fired, but she didn’t care. She’d said what he needed to hear. Hopefully, some of it had penetrated his thick skull. She’d met men in the past, her husband included, who were stubborn, but Dominic Wolfe, celebrity, model and actor, took the trophy.

* * *

Dominic watched as she walked out. The battle between them seemed unwilling to come to an end. He stood again, groaning at the pain that shot up his legs.

He exited the room, closing the door gently behind him, and headed to his room. He was pissed off. What gave her the right to talk to him like that? He was her boss and he was paying her an excessive sum to give him the best care and treatment. He should fire her and send her packing back to New York.

He paused. She was giving him the best of care, he reasoned. He was the one behaving like an ass. From the time she’d come to the island, he’d put up barriers to frustrate her.

Did he really want to get better?

He lowered himself to the bed, realizing that he was still hot and sweaty from the session. He didn’t care. The sheets could be changed and even replaced if he wanted.

He stared up at the ceiling fan swirling around him. A wave of sadness washed over him. Was this what he wanted for his life? An isolated life that left him feeling sad and alone? One of the dreadful things about coming here was the realization that those people he’d called friends were not really friends at all. Without blinking an eye, they’d deserted him. He had planned on denying them entry to the hospital. He didn’t want them to see him in such bad shape. However, they’d never come. He’d realized at that time that despite his celebrity status, he’d been alone.

When he’d been discharged from the hospital, he’d run home to Barbados. Not that he could really call Barbados home. In fact, he’d never visited the island, not even when he’d purchased his house. His reason for buying it had been simple. He’d needed somewhere to come to when he’d wanted to get away from the craziness of New York and California, where his other homes were. Each time he’d attempted to come before, he’d recoiled at the decision.

At that time, coming back had scared him. He could not admit it to anyone, but he knew the memories of his childhood had been too strong.

But the accident and his recovery had changed that. When he’d stepped on the American Airlines flight that day, he’d tried to control the panic boiling inside as the island grew nearer and nearer.

The first few nights on the island, he’d hardly slept, expecting countless relatives to come visit unannounced.

Fortunately, those feelings had subsided and he’d settled into a comfortable existence.

But was that what he wanted? Or did he want to feel alive?

He closed his eyes, feeling the unfamiliar sting of tears. He didn’t cry, not even when his mother had passed away.

But tonight, something strange was happening inside and he wasn’t sure if he liked or wanted it. But the tears came, large wet drops that seemed not to want to stop. He gripped one of the pillows on his bed and buried his head in its depth.

When he was all cried out, he felt better. Felt as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

For some reason, he believed that everything was going to be all right. Tomorrow would be another day, a different day. He didn’t want to be sad and alone anymore. He wanted to live, wanted to be better, and the only way he was going to do it was if he felt like he was living.

He rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom. The usual pain was there, but it was slightly more bearable.

After taking a shower, he headed for his workshop. For some reason, he felt inspired. Maybe he could get the project he wanted to work on started.

He sat on the stool with his gaze on the lump of clay lying there. He placed his hand on it, feeling its warmth radiate playfully under his fingers. He started tentatively, the awkwardness of using his left hand a hindrance at first, but he calmed himself, making sure to take his time. He raised his right hand, immediately feeling the pain, but he tried to ignore it. Sweat formed on his forehead and nose, dripping onto the worktable, but he fought through the pain until it became the usual irritating throb.

Under his hands the clay came alive, and the mound started to take shape and form. It was crude and imperfect, but the shape of the egret was clear. The wings spread wide hinted at the bird’s awkward flight, but there was a sense of freedom that he’d wanted to achieve. He looked at his work and felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.