Gone Tropical (30 page)
“Yeah,” Diana said with a slow smile. “Not sure what it means but he said you’d know.” She opened her email and turned the screen to face Amy.
Amy blinked hard and tried to focus. She wanted desperately to read it but was afraid of what it might say. She knew how stupid she’d been but she’d never gotten the chance to tell him she was coming back to get his help. He would never know she’d had the realization she could trust him, and he’d always protect her, or that she loved him and he was right in making her stay behind. Tears pricked at her eyelids and she blinked again, staring at the screen as a sea of words floated in front of her. “Read it out loud,” she whispered. “Please.”
Diana put an arm around her shoulders and Amy closed her eyes against the tears that flowed over her cheeks. She listened to Diana’s voice:
Dear Amy:
I hope you will forgive me for leaving you. I knew you would be in capable hands with the doctor, and with Diana supervising him. The woman doesn’t miss a trick and she had the entire staff snapping to attention every time you stirred. I had no say in the matter of my departure. I needed to file a full report in Canberra and then was sent home with Mick Dawson. Also, I had to report back to your father. Do me a huge favor, once you are discharged and should you leave Cairns this side of two weeks, leave a trail, and it better not be breadcrumbs.
Yours,
Jake.
No “I love you,” no “I’m coming back.” She sat up and swiped at her one good eye. What had she expected? She wouldn’t shed another tear for him. She sniffled and swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “So what the hell does this mean?” she asked, pushing the laptop away.
“He’s coming back.”
“How do you figure that from this dry message?” Amy snapped.
Diana rubbed her shoulder. “He loves you. The breadcrumbs, honey, he wants a trail. He doesn’t want to lose you.”
“Ohhhh!” Amy said and started to cry all over again.
Diana continued to rub her shoulder and when she finally got control of herself, handed her a tissue. She grabbed the whole box. What good would one lousy tissue do?
“He left this for you. It’s his business card and his personal phone number and email address are on the back.”
“I’m kind of tired,” Amy said and gripped the card tight. She had no idea if she’d use it. How could he want to be with someone like her, she was so damn obsessive and irresponsible? He probably just wanted to see her to tell her what an idiot she’d been.
Di kissed her forehead. “I’ll let you get some rest.”
“When you get home, give my clothing, everything you’re storing to the Salvation Army,” Amy said.
“You mean everything, your jewelry, purses…clothing?”
“Everything.”
“Even the Louis Vuitton?” Di asked sounding incredulous.
Amy nodded. “Everything but the little black dress and the black patent leather sandals. They have um…sentimental value.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. They’re things. Useless things and they don’t define me, they’ll never define me.” Amy closed her eyes again, savoring Jake’s message.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two weeks later, Amy sat in the lobby of the Wellington Hotel behind a potted palm at precisely six o’clock in the morning. She wore the little black dress and high heeled black sandals that she’d worn on her first day in Sydney, and scanned the lobby. She’d called Jake’s home number the day before, and there was a recording saying he’d returned to Australia on business.
Her heart had about leaped out of her chest as she sat composing an email. She’d sent it last night, and prayed he’d get it in time:
Wanted: American P.I. to track dangerous woman, expected to rendezvous in the lobby of the Wellington Hotel, 6 a.m. sharp, tomorrow morning. She will be wearing a little black dress, killer heels, and her heart on her sleeve.
Amy glanced at her watch, it was almost seven and he hadn’t shown up. She felt stupid and vulnerable and totally idiotic. Isn’t this the sort of thing teenagers did? She was well past the teenage years, but she felt just as unsure now as she’d felt about boys in junior high. It was obvious she’d been stood up. How could she have expected him to show? She was a mess. What guy in his right mind would want a woman who put her life and everyone else’s life in danger?
Their adventure had caused her a lot of thought in the past weeks. She’d risked crossing that intimacy barrier. She’d let herself fall in love. She’d heal again, and with time it would be okay.
Oh, damn it, who am I kidding
?
It will never be okay again, not ever
. She was so damn heartbroken, she couldn’t even cry.
All of her psychology training came into play and she tried the positive approach. She should feel proud of her emotional advancement. She’d taken a risk and put herself out there. She was emotionally light years away from where she’d been just one month ago. So why did it have to hurt so much? She’d done what the psychic said, and loved again. She’d dangled the paper trail in the hope he would come for her, and he’d turned away. She really didn’t blame him. The whole experience was nothing, if not humbling. She leaned forward, picked up her leather backpack and squared her shoulders.
“So, we’re still good, kiddo?”
The sound of his rich voice had her heartbeat kicking up a notch or two, and she burst into a grin. “Damn good,” she said, dropped the backpack and leaped into his arms. “What took you so long?”
“Element of surprise.”
“What?”
“A good P.I. always uses it…tells you volumes about a suspect,” he said, and held her tight, pulling his head back and searching her eyes.
“And what does it tell you now?” she asked still grinning like a fool.
“That I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
Amy sighed and met his mouth and melted into his kiss, and he held her tight against him while easing her back under the privacy of the potted palm.
“Always knew this palm tree would be lucky,” he said and pushed a frond away from his head. He kissed her again, softly. “I love you, Amy.”
“And I love you, but I’ve done a lot of soul-searching these past two weeks.”
“Figured you would, that’s why I left you alone.”
“Well, anyway, I have to tell you something else. I was coming back to get your help when Firth attacked me. Oh, and I’m not a sex therapist.” Amy took a huge breath and blew it out. “I was toying with you, and I’m sorry, I apologize. I should have said something earlier.” He stood very still, his expression giving away nothing. Amy swallowed hard. Would he be disappointed? Would he think less of her for lying?
“I knew you weren’t,” he said, and tried to kiss her again.
She stepped back and frowned. “How?”
“I asked your father.”
“You told Daddy I said I was a sex therapist?” Amy started to laugh. “What did he say?”
“He said,” Jake hesitated, deepened his voice and affected a Texas accent. “‘Son, I think she’s pulling your damn leg,’ then he laughed and told me the truth.”
Amy smiled but it quickly faded. “When did you know this?”
“I asked him the morning after you told me the story.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“What? Ruin a fantasy? Hell, I used to imagine you giving me a score…which would have been…?” He cocked his head and grinned.
“Ten and a half. Definitely,” she said, and pulled him close for another kiss.
A word about the author...
Robena Grant writes contemporary romance about ordinary women who are thrust into extraordinary circumstances. Travel and discovering new places gives her great pleasure, and she often includes these discoveries in her stories.
She is Australian by birth, lives in Southern California, and has two adult children.
Robena may be contacted at:
www.robenagrant.com
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