Twins (19 page)

Ed had no idea what had happened. But somewhere between his being clocked on the head and his coming to—a period of time that couldn't have been much more than five to seven minutes—Gai a must have found herself a good shrink and had the most incredible therapy session of her life. Either that or she'd gotten herself off the drugs. Because at least for now, Gaia seemed to have sent her paranoid insanity off for a long vacation.

Ed watched her sleeping for a while until he could no longer resist touching the beautiful image. Surely
she would sleep right through it at this point, anyway.

Slowly and as gently as possible, Ed reached his hand over to her face, placed his fingertips at the top of her powerful jaw, and ran his fingers along her cheek, stopping at that gorgeous dent just behind the bottom of her ear.

Gaia suddenly began to shift her head on the pillow.

Oh, crap. She's awake.

Ed's reflex reaction was to snap his hand away, slam his eyes shut, and fake a very sound sleep. He included a light fake snoring. That always did the trick.

“ED. THAT'S THE LAMEST FAKE snoring I've ever heard.”

Gaia raised her head up in the bed to get a better look at him. He opened his eyes and turned back to her. “What are you talking about?

That's brilliant fake snoring.”

“You sound like a goat clearing his throat.”

“Yeah, well…”

Gaia examined the bump on his head, touching her index finger gently to the bruise. “Does it hurt?”

“It kills,” he said.

“I'll go get you some ice.” Gaia got one foot off the side of the bed before Ed grasped her arm.

“Don't go,” he said quietly. “Stay here, okay?”

She stopped herself and pulled her foot back onto the bed, looking deep into his eyes. And all she could think of, watching the expression on his face, was how jealous she was. Jealous of his ability to simply state what he wanted and how he felt without the slightest concern for how it would come out, what it might sound like, what it might mean. She wished he could give her some pointers right now. Because there were things Gaia wanted to say to him now, and she had absolutely no clue how to say them.

“I'm staying,” she replied, laying her head back down on the pillow as she mentally skated over Ed's profile.

“Gaia,” he said, turning on his side so they were face-to-face in the bed.

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened to you?” he asked. “Because the last time I saw you, you were… how should I say this… a raving lunatic. And now you seem to be you again. Maybe even sweeter than you before you stopped being you.”

Gaia had no idea how to even begin to answer Ed's question. Nor could she be at all sure she'd seen the last of raving lunatic
Gaia. For all she knew, she'd pop right back up the next time there was a knock at the door.

To answer his question fully, things would have to come out of her mouth that would surely convince him that her insanity was far from gone.
Well, see, I got this injection… blah, blah, blah… and it turned out the three Joshes were real! See?
No. That wasn't going to work.

And then there was also the fact that Gaia didn't really know the answer to his question. She'd experienced a whole slew of horrific emotional and psychological blitzkriegs that still made absolutely no sense to her. After all was said and done, it was possible that the only real way to describe it was that whatever was happening to her, for whatever reasons, just seemed to sort of… wear off. Spurred on by a couple of key revelations. What she said to Ed was even less helpful.

“I think that I forgot who I was for a while… and then I remembered.”

Ed stared at her blankly. “Uh-huh.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Sorry. I suck at explanations.”

“That's okay,” he said.

They shared one of their newly established comfortable silences. But Gaia could tell that Ed had another question. Could he tell that she had something she wanted to say? Probably not. As she had already established for herself, she sucked at
that, too. It seemed relationships tended to draw attention to the things one sucked at.

“Gaia…”

“Yeees?” she said, laughing at his slow delivery.

“Do you happen to remember back when you were a raving lunatic… the last thing you said… about—”

“No,” Gaia interrupted him. “What's weird… is that I really don't remember much of what I said at all.” That was a full frontal lie. She remembered the “boyfriend” blurt-out all too well, but it was simply too embarrassing.

“I see,” Ed said. He didn't discuss it any further.

Ugh. She was still having massive trouble chalking up any honesty points here. Gaia wondered how many more things she would say that were the absolute opposite of what she was
trying
to say.

What she had slowly begun to realize was that raving lunatic Gaia had certain advantages that regular Gaia didn't. She had been wearing her id on her sleeve for two straight days. And while a lot of that id was chock-full of freak-outs and paranoia, the thing was… whenever she was alone with Ed, it was also chock-full of… that other thing. The thing she was trying to say to Ed.

But maybe that was the problem. She was trying to
say
things. Raving lunatic Gaia tended to act first and talk later. Maybe that was the key lesson. Gaia would never be able to wrap her mind around her feelings for Ed. They were too
complicated. Too hard to dissect. The words would never come out right. She needed to act first and let her mind follow. Like the true raving lunatic she was.

Without another word spoken, Gaia simply placed her body back in the last intimate position she remembered them sharing. She quickly shimmied toward him until the tip of her nose moved past the tip of his and their chins were nearly touching. Ed's eyes widened.

Her psycho persona had gotten her this far. Maybe she could take it from here. Maybe she was brave enough now. The good thing about four-thirty in the morning was that there would be no knock at the door this time. This time Gaia was determined to get to that next moment, no matter how the hell she needed to get there.

Okay. You're in position. Ed thinks you've lost your mind again, but at least you're in position. Now talk. Say something. Anything. Say whatever's on your mind. Jesus… what is on your mind?

“Sometimes… I lie to you, Ed,” she said. That's what was on her mind.
You idiot. Great opening line. First thing a guy wants to know is what a liar you are. Keep talking.
Her lips were nearly touching his with every word. Their eyes were so close, it was hard to pick which one to focus on. Especially in this dark blue light.

“You do?”

“I do,” she said. At least it was the truth. At least now she was telling him the truth here in the dark, feeling his breath against her cheek. Was it the dark that was making her honest or just being this close to him? “I think I've been lying a lot,” she went on. “Like when I tell you I don't remember saying… things… when I remember every single word I've said.”

“That was a lie?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“But why?” Ed asked. “Why do you lie?”

“Because I suck at this, Ed.”

“At what?”

“At
love,
Ed,” she admitted. “I suck at love.” With that she let her lips fall against his with a kiss that fired the warmest, most gorgeous blue electricity down her spine and through to the tips of her once aching toes.

And nothing hurt anymore.

She ran her hand across his stubbly face and his firm shoulder through to the back of his neck. She felt his hand press against the small of her back as he kissed her. His kiss had all those same qualities that she envied so much. It had no guile or inhibition, just the purest, most unrelenting expression of wanting her—of how much he wanted her.

And somehow she had finally done it. Just like that, she had let herself love him.

HEATHER HAD NEVER IN HER LIFE stooped this low. Men had been knocking down her door for dates as far back as she could remember, but here she was…

Staking out Starbucks. Waiting for Mr. Beautiful.

Shame, Heather. Shame on you. You shall never speak of this night to the Gannis family or to any of your admiring friends, who know full well that you could have the date of your choice at any given moment of your choosing.

It was true. With the exception of one Edward Fargo, Heather was quite sure she could get a date quite easily without resorting to manipulative stalker rituals that required loading up on lattes and double espressos. It just so happened that Heather did
not
have a date lined up for tonight or… for the rest of the year, and she wasn't at all ashamed to admit that she had developed something of a… fixation. Though in her defense she would ask this: Who would
not
develop a fixation when introduced to the most beautiful man in the world? Who would be that strong?

Certainly not Heather.

And certainly there was nothing
desperate
or
lame
about committing a few solid hours to that fixation. Though five hours might be pushing it.

Five hours. Five hours' worth of overheard inane
conversations. Five hours' worth of
InStyle
magazine. Five hours' worth of hair and makeup checks. And most important—that was to say disturbingly—five hours' worth of caffeine. Heather's heel had been tapping out extensive Morse code messages for a while now.

And so of course, ultimately she respected that one couldn't expect to have the luck of spilling boiling hot coffee in the lap of the same person twice. It wasn't natural. So finally Heather had packed up her trusty minibackpack and headed for the door. She had obviously wasted her time.

But halfway to the door she nearly twisted herself into a large, human-size pretzel.

Holy Mother of Mercy.

He had returned. Defying all common laws of chance and dating, Mr. Beautiful had returned to Starbucks—
this
Starbucks—
tonight.
The one night Heather had decided a stakeout was in order.

Now, that's destiny. I'm sorry, but may the big man upstairs strike me blind if that right there is not destiny.

So her five hours of overcaffeination had proved a worthwhile sacrifice. He was back, and she was ready for him. Now she just needed to look like she didn't care.

Heather quickly crammed herself into a visible table and slapped open the
InStyle Magazine
again, grabbing an empty cup of coffee from the windowsill and pretending to drink from it.

And in five, four, three, two…

“Well, look who's decided to show her face again at Starbucks,” he joked, standing at her table.

Heather looked up, threw him a little of the I-have-a-faint-recollection-of-you eyes, followed by the gasp into hand over mouth. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “I didn't even recognize you!” God, he was beautiful.

“Without coffee all over my pants, right?”

“Oh. Right.”

“Can I sit down?”

Place ounce of hesitation here and…

“Oh,
sure,
sure.”

He sat down across from her, and she quickly rested her chin on her fist. Otherwise she feared her jaw might drop wide open. Most men with the actual title of Mr. Beautiful couldn't possibly be as beautiful on the second viewing. He was
more.
Last time he'd gone with “clean-cut, just back from the gym,” but this time he was going with “disheveled and sexy.” The two looks in succession were the ultimate one-two punch.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asked.

“I'd love some!” she lied. “I'll get it.” She shot out of her seat.

“No, no, I'll—”

“Oh, come on,” Heather interrupted. “It's the least I can do.”

“Okay,” he said. “Coffee, black, please. Just be sure not to spill it on anyone.”

“Very funny,” she said dryly She tapped him on the back of the head.

“Ow”
he groaned, pulling his head away.

She stared at him in surprise. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” he said. “Just bumped my head in the shower this morning, that's all.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Heather said, flashing her best puppy dog eyes. “Well, I'll be right back with the coffee.”

Heather ordered herself a hot chocolate and his coffee and got herself back to their table as quickly as possible. She didn't want to lose any momentum. The moment she sat down, she started to stare again. That jet black hair, mixed with those Superman blue eyes. And that smile. That amazing smile.

“Here you go…. Oh, you know what?”

“What?” he asked.

“You know, I can't believe this,” Heather said with an embarrassed giggle. “I don't even know your
name.
How horrible is that?”

“It's not horrible at all,” he said, putting out his hand. “Josh.”

Heather shook his hand officially. “Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Josh,” she said.

“Likewise,” he said.

Josh.
She loved it. So manly and concise. Rolled right off the tongue.
Josh.
It was the perfect name for the perfect guy.

here is a sneak peek of Fearless™ #20: SEX

28 minutes

His lips … what was it about his lips?

“DO YOU WANT ME TO CLOSE THE window?”

Ed had pulled his lips away from Gaia's and brought his head back just far enough to look her in the eyes. His hair was still hanging down on her forehead, keeping them connected, as he smiled at her with the most Ed-specific guileless adoration.

“Why?” Gaia whispered, doing her best to breathe regularly in spite of the fact that her heart was beating triplets.