Page 14 of Passion in Bloom

Chapter 5

Heather

I came home after workso hopeful when I saw no sign of David all day. It wasn’t in my nature to be optimistic, but I wanted to be. I craved a normal night of something as close to peace that I could find. The little bit of normalcy I was starting to enjoy here had been shattered with David showing up, but I so badly wanted to believe I could get a taste of it back.

The hope didn’t last.

I set my purse down. I hung my coat on the back of a chair, and then I got stuck. Just looking at the chair Roarke had sat in had me frowning. As I let my gaze drift higher, to the edge of the table where he’d placed me to sit so he could hold my skirt up and—

“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed the back of my neck. I wasn’t going there. I was not letting my thoughts stray to him and that wonderful moment of bliss that I’d never felt before.

It was so damn tempting to give in and revisit the memory of such ecstasy. To dismiss all the clutter of worry and stress from my mind and focus on how good he’d made me feel with his mouth, his tongue.

Dammit. I pushed my legs together, as if that would stem the pressure already building between them. That delicious ache didn’t belong here, not now. I couldn’t dare to daydream and entertain a lusty fantasy about that man going down on me again so skillfully. It was a hell of a taunting draw. To just let go and not think. To feel and clear my mind.

But what good would that really do?

None.

Escaping into a fantasy about Roarke wouldn’t solve my problems. It’d be a distraction at best, and right now, so long as David remained in or near Burton, I could not afford any slip in keeping my guard up. I had to focus on remaining alert at all times now.

Not lust after that man.

I kept my eyes closed for a moment longer, holding the back of my neck as I exhaled steadier, deeper breaths. Meditation had never been something I ever got far with. David didn’t “believe” in that sort of “nonsense” and he discouraged me from trying to learn how to meditate. Since he was at the office I worked at and also at home, he lorded over all my time to make sure I never dabbled in something as simple as breathing techniques. Self-care couldn’t be allowed when he had to be the one to dictate all of my care, withheld or otherwise.

It came naturally to me now though, standing in the middle of this cabin, shutting off my sense of sight to just be. And breathe. In and out. In. And out—

Knocks sounded on the door, jarring me from this moment. I yelped, wrenching my eyes open wide as I turned to face the door.

I held my breath, not daring to move as I catalogued this damn sense of déjà vu. It wasn’t David. Somehow, I knew that. It didn’t sound like his knock, which was such a lame thing to realize, but it was Roarke’s voice that proved it.

“Heather? Are you all right?” Now he knocked. I could tell in the frantic pound of his fist on the door.

“I heard her.”

I narrowed my eyes, breathing again. He’s talking to someone. Todd? They’re checking in on me? I wanted to be touched. To be moved by this sweet gesture, but I was too skeptical.

“I heard you,” he shouted to me. “Are you okay in there?”

I shook my head, snapping out of the instant spike of panic that the sound of someone knocking on my door could cause. I was never this jumpy. When I was with David, showing him signs of jumpiness could be used against me. Shielding myself from him was the first step in trying to survive, and that meant forcing myself to always be vacant and numb, never to let him think he’d surprised me.

Before I reached for the doorknob, I detoured toward the window. Roarke, I knew. I could understand why he was here. He’d made a habit of wanting to check on me, or just to talk to me, that I wouldn’t have to fear him.

But I didn’t know who else stood out there. I tugged back a slight crack in the curtains, taking a quick peek.

Fuck. Roarke! What the hell are you thinking?

The Burton police cruiser was parked out there with his truck.

The cop!

It seemed all my gestures and demands to be left alone had fallen on deaf ears. Bringing any member of law enforcement into my business was the very last thing I wanted or needed.

“Ms. James?” another man called out.

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back a groan at the sound of Marty’s voice. I didn’t know the officer to loathe him personally. He’d started working here during my time away in Chicago. The old, grumpy, pain-in-the-ass cops who’d been fed up with my parents—and me, by association—had retired and moved to Florida.

Marty might not know all the prejudices against me. There was a slim chance he had no clue who I was or how awful my parents were as lousy citizens in Burton. Yet, I didn’t want to get to know him now or give him a chance to be acquainted with me after my incident with David.