Kurt, p.8
Kurt, page 8
Kurt tilted his head. His green-gold eyes stared intently, searching, probing, as if seeking the answers to her soul.
Bonnie gulped. His full, tempting mouth was inches from hers. Millimeters actually and if she moved forward just the tiniest bit...
His grip tightened, and her fingers tingled from the intense sensation. The pulse at the base of his neck quickened.
Bonnie’s lips parted.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice scratchy.
“Kurt,” she whispered.
The memory of the kiss he’d given her that morning in the bedroom flashed through her mind. How she longed to taste him again, to savor the feel of his warm, moist mouth. That kiss had been hard, demanding. This time, she wanted something soft, submissive, with a hint of tenderness.
She leaned closer, so close she felt the flushed heat radiating from his pores. His cologne’s sharpness heightened her olfactory sense. Tentatively, she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.
Kurt appeared frozen to the seat. She stared into his eyes and tried to read the depths of him. Confusion dilated his pupils. She could tell he wanted to pull away, and yet, he seemed incapable of moving.
Like a delicate butterfly descending lightly upon a sun-ripened rose, Bonnie pressed her mouth to his.
His eyes shuttered closed. The muscle in his jaw spasmed.
She shifted against him. “Oh, Kurt,” she sighed.
“Stop this, Elizabeth.” Opening his eyes, he released her hand and sat back against the seat.
“Why?” She blinked, struggling to keep the hurt from her face.
“I can’t trust you.”
She turned her head, easing back over to her side of the vehicle. “Your mind is made up, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
BLOWING OUT HIS BREATH, Kurt peered through the windshield, the steering wheel gripped so tightly in his hands his knuckles whitened. The peroxide bottle clutched between his thighs buckled from the pressure and oozed liquid onto the knees of his jeans.
Capping the antiseptic, he tossed it onto the floorboard and keyed the engine.
“You simply can’t believe I’ve changed.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he backed out of the parking lot. “I believe you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Then why...?”
“Because, Elizabeth, if I allow myself to get close to you again, sooner or later your memory will return. And along with your memory, I’m sure you’ll recover that selfish personality of yours.”
“You don’t think the accident could change me for good?”
“No.” He headed to the ranch.
“I’ll never again be that person you remember with so much animosity.”
“Forget it, darling, I simply can’t take the gamble. Once scorched by the great imposter, Elizabeth Destiny, only a complete fool would crawl back for seconds.”
That night, Kurt couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned in his king-size bed, knowing only one thin wall separated him and Elizabeth. For all the bad feelings she stirred in him, he could not stop thinking about her—her fragrant lips, her fruity scent, her feather-soft hair.
Groaning, he turned on his side and curled one knee to his chest. He couldn’t believe she’d kissed him.
A sweet, naive kiss that conjured images of home, hearth, and family. The very ideals he’d been searching for his entire life. He’d fallen for that fairy tale once with Elizabeth, duped by her acting abilities. But this time, she was most definitely different.
What happens when her memory returns?
Kurt sighed and rolled over onto his back. The digital clock-radio glowed red. One thirty.
“Go to sleep, McNally,” he growled to himself, but when he closed his eyes, Elizabeth’s face hovered before him. Her blue eyes wide, her strawberry lips parted, her small nose quivering ever so slightly.
Propping himself up on one elbow, he turned on the radio. The soothing sound of a Mozart aria floated through the room. Settling down into his pillow, he tried to quiet his mind.
Relax. Take a deep breath. That’s it.
His eyes closed; he drifted.
Elizabeth.
He remembered the night they met. As corny as it sounded, their first encounter had been like a scene from a romantic movie. That should have been his first clue that their coming together had been carefully orchestrated, not by fate but by Elizabeth Destiny herself. He and Grant Lewis had been invited to a celebrity charity bash at Dallas’s West End. The place was noisy and crowded. Kurt had turned around to shake hands with someone when he’d caught sight of Elizabeth.
A dozen adoring men vied for her attention, but in the midst of them, she managed to look completely alone. Her blond hair swirled around her narrow shoulders like a whisper. The designer dress she wore, sequined, red, and strapless, had glittered in the theatrical lighting.
She’d raised her head, and their gazes met. She’d run the tip of her tongue over her lips. Blue and bold, her eyes held his for two seconds, and then she glanced away. But it was too late. Kurt had been snagged—hook, line, and sinker.
Perhaps if he hadn’t been less anxious to get married, he would have recognized the feelings as pure physical attraction and nothing more. Unfortunately, he’d met Elizabeth at a vulnerable time in his life.
The truth of the matter was, Elizabeth Destiny had been in the right place at the right time. Or rather, as Hub liked to point out, the wrong place at the wrong time.
Beth.
That’s how he thought of her now. Since the accident. Sweet Beth. Exactly the person he’d always wanted Elizabeth to be.
Beth came to him in his dreams, wearing a long, white nightgown. He could see her spectacular figure silhouetted through the gauzy material—her high, firm breasts, the smooth curve of her hips, her long, shapely legs.
He held out his arms, and she came to his bed, cupped his face in her hands and stared intensely into his eyes, wrapping him in a scent as delicious as fresh peaches and cream.
Pulling her down on top of him, he pressed her to his chest and sucking gently, captured her bottom lip between his teeth. She giggled, her nipples jutting hard through her nightgown, the intoxicating fabric scratching a torturously beautiful sensation against his bare skin.
“Beth, Beth, Beth,” he breathed. Had he died and flown to heaven? He must have, how else could he be here in the arms of an angel?
Then suddenly her soft giggles dissolved into a harsh, high-pitched cackle. Beth’s face crumpled, shifted, and changed into the cruel, sharp features of a female she-wolf.
Kurt shouted, bolting upright in the bed.
His body was bathed in sweat. His heart hammered. Gulping, he turned on the bedside lamp, one palm splayed across his chest.
The nightmare mirrored his greatest fear—falling in love with Elizabeth again only to find nothing had changed, that beneath the innocent mask of amnesia lurked a soul of stone.
Chapter Nine
Church.
She had to get up for church. Bonnie’s eyes flew open, and she glanced at the clock. Whew. It was only seven thirty. She hadn’t overslept.
Wait a minute.
She sat up, a hand reaching to gingerly massage her head wound. Was this a memory? With absolute certainty, she knew she went to church every Sunday. But for the life of her, she didn’t remember which church or where, nor did she recall the denomination. She simply knew she went to church on Sunday mornings.
Bonnie threw back the covers, got out of bed, and stretched, her fingers reaching for the ceiling. A smile lingered on her face. She’d had the most wonderful dream about Kurt. A dream that had her blushing.
Hurrying through her shower, she dressed in strappy pink sandals and the pink sundress she’d purchased from Tammy and Sarah Jane. She plaited her hair in a French braid, then scurried downstairs.
Nervousness washed over her as she pushed open the swinging doors into the kitchen. Hub, Consuelo, Kurt, and Jesse sat around the breakfast table dressed in their Sunday best. All eyes stared at her.
“Good morning,” Bonnie chirped.
Last night, before falling asleep, she’d made the decision to treat them with sincere kindness no matter how they treated her. Sooner or later, she’d win them over, convince them she could be a decent person.
“Morning,” they all mumbled, except Kurt.
He stood up, his chair scraping across the floor. His gaze roved over her body. In his gray suit, white shirt, and blue tie, he was incredibly handsome. Bonnie ducked her head and peeped at him sideways.
“You look nice,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“What are you doing up so early?” he asked, his brows dipping in suspicion. “You usually sleep until noon.”
Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders. “From now on, please don’t assume anything about my behavior.”
“Oh, no?”
“I’m going to church.”
“Church?” His mouth dropped open.
“Church,” she said firmly and seated herself at the breakfast table.
“You’ve never been to church with us before.”
“No, no.” Bonnie raised a finger. “Accept me for what I am right now. Please.”
Kurt shrugged and sat back down.
Consuelo passed Bonnie a fruit plate.
“Thank you.” Bonnie smiled at the housekeeper.
“You’re welcome,” Consuelo replied and returned her smile.
Maybe she was indeed making headway. The conversation resumed, and they finished breakfast. Bonnie helped Consuelo clean the kitchen while Hub brought his family car around to the back door.
They piled in and headed for Rascal.
A strange sense of excitement swelled inside her. Bonnie smiled. For the first time since the accident, she felt good—both physically and emotionally. She’d removed the bandages from her palms; the abrasions were healing. Her heart filled with affection for the people in the car with her. They were good folks. Leery of her to be sure, and worried she’d hurt them again, but they were willing to give her a second chance. What more could she ask for?
They arrived at the Methodist church. To Bonnie’s surprise, Kurt came around and helped her out of the car. He wrapped his hand securely around her elbow as he guided her up the sidewalk behind Hub, Consuelo, and Jesse.
Well-dressed parishioners greeted them. An excited buzz ran through the crowd as people recognized her, and some waved at her. Most simply stared. Kurt put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. Nothing had ever felt so comforting. At least not that she remembered.
“Please don’t embarrass me in front of my friends,” he whispered. “And don’t tell anyone we’re getting back together. You know there’s no hope for that.”
Then he released her and stepped away.
Her happiness evaporated instantly. Just when she thought Kurt might harbor feelings for her, he’d distanced himself. How could she ever hope to win him back?
Forcing herself to keep smiling, she shook hands with strangers and made small talk until it was time for the services to begin. It appeared most of the townspeople did not know her very well. Many seemed hesitant to approach. Feeling subdued, Bonnie didn’t encourage them.
They filed into the church, and Bonnie seated herself in the pew next to Kurt. He kept his eyes trained straight ahead, his hands clenched in his lap. She wondered what thoughts ran through his mind.
The building smelled like hymnbooks and wax candles. Fabric rustled as ladies scooted across the wooden benches. Several heads pivoted to study her. A large piano crouched to the left of the pulpit.
By the time most of the congregation had filtered in, a man in a black suit went up to the microphone. “Good morning everyone.”
“Good morning, Reverend,” people chorused.
“We’ve got a mini-crisis today, folks. Our pianist, Gertie Mae Leery, fell this morning and broke her hip.”
The crowd murmured their sympathy.
“Awful. Yes.” The preacher shook his balding head. “She’s in surgery right now, and she’ll be in Room 210 at Rascal General. Please drop by to see her later on or send a card.”
Everyone nodded.
“Because of poor Gertie’s accident, we’re in desperate need of a pianist for today’s service. Is anyone willing to be a last-minute substitute?” The microphone squawked. The reverend peered out at the congregation. “Anyone?”
Silence.
“Come on, folks. As a tribute to Gertie Mae. I know some of you are quite talented musicians.” He ran a finger around his collar. “This could be your good deed for the week.”
Still, no one volunteered.
The preacher sighed. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to trudge along a cappella.”
“I’ll do it.” Shocking herself, Bonnie stood and clutched the back of the pew with one hand. Every head in the building turned in her direction.
The reverend looked mildly surprised that someone had taken him up on his plea. “Why, what a nice offer, Miss...”
“Beth,” she said firmly, raising her voice high and clear. She moved down the aisle toward the altar, her pink sundress swishing between her legs.
“Come on up here, Beth. Glad to have you, young lady.” Obviously, the preacher didn’t recognize her. “We really appreciate this and so does Gertie Mae.”
“It’s Elizabeth Destiny,” someone whispered as Bonnie walked past.
When she reached the altar, the minister shook her hand and led her over to the piano. Holding her head high, she settled herself on the piano bench. Her hands greeted the keys like old friends. To her utter amazement, the instrument came to life under her fingers. Glancing at the hymn book, she began to play “The Old Rugged Cross.”
The congregation got to their feet and joined in the song.
Something spiritual swelled inside Bonnie. A powerful experience like nothing she could remember. Her heart thumped in time to the music. Her skin tingled. Quickly she glanced back, saw Hub, Consuelo, Jesse, and Kurt watching her. Kurt looked astonished.
Rapture filled her heart. She smiled and smiled and smiled as her fingers transformed the volatile emotions of the past few days into beautiful, uplifting music.
SOMETHING BIZARRE HAD happened to Elizabeth Destiny.
Kurt simply could not believe his eyes. How was it possible she could suddenly play the piano like an accomplished musician? Could a severe blow to the head really explain such a phenomenon?
And why had she done something so daring as to volunteer to perform before the congregation? If she’d failed, she would have looked like a fool—and Elizabeth Destiny hated to be humiliated.
Stunned, Kurt had no answers.
She looked so lovely, seated on the bench, her body swaying gently, her golden hair twisted in a French plait glimmering in the light slanting through the stained-glass windows.
He listened intently as she coaxed one inspirational tune after another from the aging instrument.
Hub nudged him in the rib cage, telegraphing him a look that clearly said, “What the hell is going on here?”
Kurt shrugged, at a loss for a reasonable explanation.
He was also unable to justify the sudden euphoria boiling inside him. If the accident had altered Elizabeth’s brain function to such a radical degree, could this mean a permanent conversion in her personality?
Did he dare hope?
No matter how skeptical he might be, this latest development was much more than Elizabeth’s usual attention-seeking tactics. There was no way she could have learned to play the piano with such ease in only six weeks.
Kurt thought about all the ways Elizabeth had changed. Her body was fuller, more rounded, her nose thinner, her lips wider, her hair darker. She smelled of strawberries instead of exotic spice. She was tanned and freckled instead of pale and carefully made-up. Her voice was softer, her words kinder.
And he was incredibly aroused. In a church of all places.
Finally, the reverend took his place in the pulpit, and Elizabeth ended the hymn. She bowed her head, her posture radiating a quiet peacefulness.
Pride rose in Kurt’s chest. He adjusted his tie and smiled. Elizabeth’s beauty had attracted him in the beginning, and he’d been swept away by her physical charms. Later, when she’d dropped her actress’s mask, and her real-self emerged, he’d been appalled at his own gullibility.
Now, something new stirred within him. Calm respect for the woman perched on the stool, and an attraction that plumbed far deeper than surface beauty.
Who was this mysterious woman?
Like polarized magnets, his emotions warred. On the one hand, he wanted Elizabeth as he’d never wanted anyone, yet on the other, she’d hurt him so badly he was terrified to trust her again, despite the apparent changes in her personality.
Clenching his fists, he listened to the sermon without hearing a word, his gaze transfixed on Elizabeth.
He remembered when they’d first met at that party over a year ago. She’d walked up to him, drink in hand, placed an index finger in the middle of his chest, licked her lips, and in a breathless Marilyn Monroe sigh said, “You, Kurt McNally, are my destiny.”
Kurt squirmed at the memory.
Hub touched his shoulder. “Easy, Boss. Don’t let her lead you down the garden path.”
It was uncanny how well Hub knew him. Having spent the last twenty-four years together, sharing most of life’s ups and downs, they were as close as two people could be. Hub was right. No matter how much amnesia might have changed Elizabeth Destiny, he could not forget the cruel things she’d done.
A door at the back of the church whispered closed. Kurt barely acknowledged the sound. Someone coughed, heads turned, and murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Hub glanced over his shoulder, then tugged at Kurt’s sleeve. “Hold on to your hat, Boss. Look who just walked in.”
