Beneath the Surface (43 page)

He had lost her.

252

Beneath the Surface

I know you, Tabitha
.

He’d said it so many times since meeting her that she had begun to believe it.

Now she understood
why
he’d said it. He’d been reading her mind all along. She’d been operating with him at an utter disadvantage. It wasn’t enough that he had the kind of raw sex appeal that turned heads, melted knees and sizzled brain cells. He had the ability to read minds!

How much of her past had he known before she’d told him? Had he been humoring her when he’d asked her about herself, all the while knowing who and what she was, intimate with all her weaknesses and strengths, laughing at her behind her back?

Storing up details and information to use against her when he pleased?

Telepathy. Mind reading. The stuff of science fiction and Stephen King novels!

Tabitha still didn’t quite believe it, almost wished he were crazy. That might have been easier to deal with than a boyfriend who could read minds. At least she’d had experience with the former, knew a little about the mentally ill, much more than she ever wanted to know actually.

Leave it to her to fall in love with…with someone so different, outside the realm of normal. Like her mother. The madwoman.

When he’d first told her about his ability, that was the first thought to cross her mind—even with the proof, the probe and scan he’d performed—that he was a madman.

God, how could he do this to her? How could he lie to her with a straight face, sleeping next to her all those weeks, seducing her—not only with his body and his words, but his mind—and still smile in her face as if he were the innocent little Boy Scout from his past? How could he do that to her?

We only hurt the ones we love, darlin’.

253

Gracie C. McKeever

Her mother used to say it to her all the time when she’d disappointed her daughter yet again, going missing on important holidays, neglecting to come to a Parent-Teacher conference, neglecting to show up for a school performance in a play or a musical, knocking down her daughter’s already miniscule self-esteem at every turn.

Nope, Denise hadn’t coined the phrase, but she had definitely perfected it, put her own southern twang and good-natured twist to it.

Tabitha had thought she’d found Mr. Right in Eric, had thought he deserved all her trust and more. And for a moment there, he had deserved it, had earned her love and trust.

By lying to you
.

She closed her eyes on the screen in front of her and swallowed hard.

She’d been operating on autopilot for the last two weeks, trying to act as if an Eric Vega didn’t exist, and that was near impossible to do.

Everything she did, everywhere she turned were reminders of him.

Erica sitting at home near her headboard in all her innocent pinkness. The jade elephant she never took off, snuggled against her bosom like a promise. The scent of his aftershave lingering in the linens and air of her apartment, even after so many days had gone by.

She was beginning to think Eric had other abilities, like spell-casting, perhaps that he’d put a hex on her, something that caused her to think about him night and day, unable to forget him, unable to hate him.

Unable to forgive him.

Theirs had been a whirlwind romance, moving fast, catching her imagination and her heart from the first, culminating in no more than three months by Tabitha’s estimation.

She thought she might have been in love with him from that first meeting, and the visit to his closet, that had sealed the deal. Sealed her fate.

Tabitha remembered all the times they’d spent together, the good and bad, the funny and sad, the silly and serious. He had been so sweet to her, so supportive and giving, even at the end right before he had told her about himself.

She kept coming back to that day, wondering what had driven him to fess up. He didn’t have to, especially with the gifts that he possessed, could have realistically gone on hiding it from her for years.

But he hadn’t, had volunteered information that he knew would be unfavorable in her eyes, indeed damaging to his credibility, when he hadn’t had to. God knew it had to have been difficult for him to tell her—it had been difficult for her to listen and realize that he was telling her the truth, especially once faced with irrefutable facts of his treachery and power—yet he had told her.

Because he’d felt guilty? Or because his moral code wouldn’t let him go on living a lie?

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Beneath the Surface

Should it matter why he had opened up to her? Shouldn’t the fact that he finally had opened up be her only yardstick for whether or not she should forgive him, but much more, trust him again, trust him not to violate her?

She still loved him, knew that she’d never stop.

But was love enough?

Tabitha had been asking herself this question for the last two weeks, fending off Eric’s relentless calls to her home and office, his barrage of flower deliveries to same, close to caving in so many times, but somehow she’d held onto her anger and dignity long enough not to dial his numbers, not giving in.

She had to decide whether she could live with a man knowing he had the ability to read her mind—whether he used it all the time or not—had to decide whether she was mentally and emotionally prepared to deal with the fact that he could know her thoughts any time he pleased.

Sheesh, Tabitha didn’t know what angered her more. The idea that he could read her mind, or the idea that he had lied about it.

Cynthia knocked on the doorjamb and stood on the threshold of Tabitha’s office until her boss glanced up to acknowledge her presence. “…and the New Year started so promisingly, too.”

“Don’t start.”

“What start, I’m just making a comment.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. Not this time.”

“Would it make a difference if I said he’s called several times today?”

“No, it wouldn’t, and what makes today any different than the last two weeks?”

Cynthia shrugged, lips trembling, actually seemed on the verge of tears.

“Cyn, what is it?”

“I just hate to see you guys break up for no good reason.”

Not that Tabitha
could
tell the girl the reasons for the break-up—she imagined how well that would go over, just call the men in white coats now—but she just wouldn’t, valued her privacy too much.

She realized that was another issue she’d only so far scratched the surface of. Not just the fact that Eric had lied but that, however good intentioned his motives had been, he’d violated her person, stepped over well-delineated boundaries before they’d even had a bond.

She stood and crossed the floor, opened the floodgates when she took the girl in her arms as Cynthia’s slim body trembled with her sobbing and the tears fell.

Oh, goodness, she was taking this as hard as Tabitha. Probably had something to do with being a newlywed and still in a fresh, on-the-verge relationship herself. Maybe the girl felt threatened, thought bad relationships and break-ups might be rubbing off.

255

Gracie C. McKeever

Tabitha pat and rubbed Cynthia’s back, calming her down as best she could, considering she didn’t have a whole heck of a lot of experience dealing with hysterical females, finally pulled away to peer at her assistant.

“Don’t worry about us, Cyn. Okay? We’ll work it out.” She realized as she said it that she meant it, knew that she had to put an end to her own and Cynthia’s pain as soon as possible.

It was past time.

* * * *

Book signings, interviews, library appearances—he’d said the right words, smiled in all the right places, put his John Hancock where asked and when asked—doing just enough to get by and function, nothing more.

Today he was at an independent bookstore in the Fordham Road section of the Bronx; he liked the small independents, the personal Mom and Pop touch that they provided. Nowadays he needed plenty of the personal touch just to remind him that he was a living breathing functioning human being who needed to feed his heart with as much human contact as possible just to validate his existence.

Damn, he could be melodramatic when he put his mind to it, but he had reason, though he wouldn’t dare admit it out loud.

Angela had been bugging him for the last couple of weeks trying to pry from him any information about Tabitha that she could get. Problem was, he wasn’t giving, and this ticked her off as much as the idea that he had done something to ruin the relationship.

EJ had finally had to tell her to lay off that his life was his own and whether Tabitha was in it or not was his concern and not his older sister’s. That had put her in her place for about an hour before she called him back, contrite and apologetic, but still subtly asking what was going on with him and Tabitha.

Four days ago he’d finally told Angela what had happened, how he’d broken the news to Tabitha and that she hadn’t taken it very well. Angela, surprisingly, didn’t have any all-purpose, save-the-relationship advice to give him, just gently commiserated and tried to make him feel better with it’s-for-the-best platitudes that made him feel anything but better.

For the best? Like hell it was.

If he were half the bold and bodacious bastard he’d been when he’d first met Tabitha, he would have marched right over to her apartment or job and made her listen to him, but no. He was trying to give her space to deal with the shock, space to come to terms with what he was and could do, trying to let her deal with her recent grief.

Bullshit!

Back when he’d first met her he hadn’t had anything to lose. He hadn’t had anything like his heart at stake, lying out in the open for the world to see and know that here was a man who’d been kicked in the ass by love. It was easy then to be a bold and 256

Beneath the Surface

bodacious bastard, not so easy now when the woman with whom he was in love had the very ability to crush him to dust with just a word or a look. Or no word and no look.

Could he really blame her for shunning him, for shutting him out of her life? Had he been in her place he might do the same thing, probably would, knowing what a high value he placed on honesty.

Hypocrite. Coward!

If the people on this line had had any sort of sympathy and pity for him, they’d quietly go away so that he could leave and suffer the rest of the afternoon in solitude.

EJ signed another book, handed it back to the customer with a mumbled thanks and took the next book.

After another hour, and another fifty signed books—suffering a severe case of writer’s cramp since he’d been at signing this afternoon for the last two hours and the line was only now showing signs of letting up—a reader silently placed her book on the table, stepped back and waited.

He didn’t look up right away, just glimpsed the high-heel pumps, fingernail polish, and long elegant copper tone fingers—his only hints that the customer was a woman.

EJ consciously tried to slow down his speeding heart, didn’t want to get his hopes up. But he’d recognize her vanilla musk scent, that sedate coral polish anywhere.

Yeah, like they only sold one bottle to
her.
Get a grip, Vega, get a grip!

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, but still didn’t look up. “What would you like me to say?”

“To Tabitha: If you forgive me, I’ll forgive you, and we can start this relationship thing all over again, Love, Eric James Vega.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting phrasing. Long-winded, too.” It took everything in him to keep his cool and not jump up and down screaming Hallelujah because she was forgiving him.

“I thought it apropos.”

He took another deep breath, began to write out the statement, and right when he got to his signature and would have put his
nom de plume
, she reached out her hand and caught his wrist.

“I want your full name, just as I dictated it. For positive identification purposes.”

“Identification purposes?”

“So I’ll know who to bring it back to if I’m not one hundred percent satisfied.”

“What if I told you your satisfaction is guaranteed from here on out?”

“I’d say I need some proof of that fantastic claim.”

257

Gracie C. McKeever

He raised his eyes then, saw her beautiful hesitant smile, didn’t know how he stayed in his seat as long as he did without jumping across the table to grab her in a Hollywood hug and kiss her senseless right on the floor of the bookstore.

“Hi,” she murmured, and he wondered why she seemed apologetic when it had been him who’d almost ruined their relationship.

“Hey.” EJ peeked around her to see only one other customer on the line behind her, a senior aged woman with an indulgent smile, clutching her book against her breasts like a precious treasure, patiently waiting for her turn.

Tabitha stepped aside as he glanced at his watch, realized that the official book signing had been over a half-an-hour ago, and he’d managed to handle everyone who’d bought a book and been on line.

The elderly woman stepped forward, grinning widely now as she handed EJ her book.

“How would you like me to sign this?”

“To Margaret: I’m on my way to propose to my girlfriend, thanks for being so patient and waiting while we worked it out, Eric James Vega.”

He glanced at her and smiled, started to write and stopped when she cleared her throat.

“I’d like your full name also. Not just for identification purposes mind you. I just like the sounds of it. An honest and solid name.”

“Why thank you, Margaret. My mom and Dad thought so, too, and I try to live up to it every day.” He finished signing the book and Margaret took it with a wink at Tabitha.

“Does he, young lady?”

“Does he what?”

“Live up to his name?”

Tabitha peered at him, her look a combination of admiration, forgiveness, and lusty love, smiled and said simply, “I believe he does.”