My Deja Vu Lover (37 page)

  
Cyd said, “And then I remembered that note you left me with the address for the cottage. It was still in the kitchen junk drawer.”

  
“So we came looking for Tom’s car,” Macbeth said.

  
“Forget the car,” Tom said.

  
He opened the door to the back seat, guided me in, shoved in beside me, his stiff right leg trailing. I scooted to the far side to give him room.

  
He closed the door, reached for me and pulled me half onto his lap, wrapped his arms around me, buried his face in my hair.

  
“We weren’t looking for the car. We were looking for you.”

  
“I am so sorry about your car,” I sobbed.

  
“Never liked that car, anyway,” he whispered, stroking my back.

  
“I must have been crazy!”

  
“I love you crazy.”

  
“I thought I was going to hit you!
 
With your own car!
 
What if I’d killed you?”

  
“You could have shipped my ashes back and buried me next to Millie’s parents.”

  
“What!”

  
Mac’s car started up, and as I glanced over Tom’s shoulder, I saw Graham standing by the edge of the road, briefly lit by the swinging light as Macbeth backed and turned. Graham was barefoot and wearing nothing but jeans. He stood with his arms wrapped around his bare chest in the steady rain. His face was a blank, no expression.

  
Cyd saw him, too, and said, “How far is it back to his cottage?”

  
“Who cares?” Macbeth said.

  
Tom asked me softly, “Do you want us to give him a ride?”

  
“For all I care, you can run over him,” I said.

  
I shook with terror and Tom shook with low laughter. He finger combed the snarls out of my hair, his hands moving slowly, gently, while he gave me time to calm down. “So you’re saying you don’t love him any more?”

  
“Oh Tommy.” I moved away enough to trace with my fingertips the dark eyebrows, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, the planes of his face. I pressed my forehead to his, let myself drown in those dark eyes, whispered against his mouth, “If you’d died, I would have died, too.”

  
“Is that a roundabout way of saying you can’t live without me?”

  
“I guess it is,” I said and then giggled. Not the time for giggling but I had no self-control left at all.

  
“How about this,” he said. “Could you live with me, do you think? My folks are really sick of me underfoot. I need to find a place. And you know me, I don’t like to be alone.”

  
He paused between each sentence, waiting for me to answer. I let him keep talking until finally he stopped, pushed me away enough so that we could see each other in the dim light in the back seat.

  
“Is that a roundabout way of saying that you love me?” I asked.

  
“I guess so. Take it as a proposal if you want to.”

  
“No wonder you attract stalkers. You can be very confusing and misleading.”

  
“This isn’t pillow talk. I know what I’m saying.”

  
“You’re asking me to live with you. Very offhand. Three days later will you ask me to move out?”

  
He stroked my hair and then held my head so that he could look me straight in the eyes. His eyes narrowed, dark slits of glitter under those thick lashes. “Okay, let me say this once. I can’t promise to be serious more than once. Seeing that car spin off the road and knowing I could lose you, that about killed me. I love you so much. Always will.”

  
I started to say something smartmouth, couldn’t. He was all the world to me and I’d been so stupid, almost missed the best thing in my life. Instead, I said, “Me, too.”
  

  
By the time the car stopped, we were so entangled, neither of us noticed that we weren’t moving any more until Mac said, “Hey, you guys getting out or are you spending the night in the back seat?”

  
“If I could move my leg, I guess I could get out,” Tom said, over my shoulder.

  
“Need help?” Mac asked.

  
In my ear, Tom whispered, “What I need is you.”

 
 
“Yes,” I shouted at Mac.

  
I unwound myself, got out on my side, then ran around and helped untangle Tom. It was a three person job, with Mac and Cyd and myself all hanging onto Tom, hands under his arms and at his back. We limped him up the walk and through the lobby.

  
“We all need to talk about what happened tonight, so come on in, guys,” Cyd said as she fitted her key into the lock. “Frankly, I am feeling a bit traumatic and April must be ready for a total breakdown.”
 

  
Over her bent back, the rest of us stared at each other.

  
Cyd straightened up and pushed open our apartment door.

  
Then Mac, without a single expression crossing that firm face, reached out, took hold of Cyd, turned her around and guided her down the sidewalk and back to his car, ignoring her stream of protests.

  
Over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll pick you up in the morning, Tom, and we’ll go figure out what to do about your car.”

  
“Sure, good,” Tom said, before I pulled him into the apartment and pushed the door closed.

CHAPTER 41

  
“Or I may bolt the door in the morning,” I told him. “Because you and I have a whole bunch of stuff to straighten out, way too much for one night.”

  
He leaned his back against the door and looked down at me.

  
“For starters, tell me this. Will you keep going back to this memory guy, life after life? So how is that going to work out? Next week will you find someone else who reminds you of a past lover?”

  
I caught his hands, hung on, needed to touch him. Explanations were something he did so much better than I could. I had to make him understand.

  
“Laurence may have been a past love, but he wasn’t a real love, not the kind I want. Maybe I had to remember Laurence. Millie died thinking she loved him. So maybe that’s why I had to meet Graham and figure out why I don’t want him. Don’t even like him.”

  
“What do you want?” Tom’s face was quiet and I knew he was preparing to accept whatever I said, whether he liked it or not.

  
“I want someone I trust, adore, want to be with forever.”

  
“And this deja vu thing?”

  
“That’s part of it,” I said. “Only, I had it wrong.”

  
He started to turn away from me so I wouldn’t go reading expressions on his face. Didn’t have to. I touched his arm.

  
“Come back to me, Tommy.”

  
“What?”

  
“I’ve been with the right person over and over. But I never had the sense to know it. You and I, we both kept looking every place else and finding all the wrong answers. How many times have we been together and then split up for no real reason?”

  
“You’re doing it again, lovey, asking me to get serious.” He grinned and then he stopped. His expression went dead serious. “Are you saying what it sounds like?”

  
“I’m saying that I love you, really love you, will always love you. No more splitting up and then doing the stupid rebound thing, yeah, that’s what I am saying. No more off and on, no more anybody else. What do you think?”

  
Those brown eyes went soft and warm. “I think I’ve always loved you. No, I don’t think. I know I have. I want to spend my life loving you.” The grin was back. “Why are we wasting time talking? Let’s get started.”
 

  
In the dark front room I leaned against him, reached up around his shoulders, pulled his face to mine, told him how much I loved him. He said a lot of the same things back to me and then he said, “Damn knee, I still have to keep the brace on.”

  
“How’s the rest of you?”

  
“The rest of me wants you.”

  
“I mean, how are the bruises? Ribs?”

  
“Oh that. Better, I guess.”

  
“Okay. Then there’s no problem.”

  
“A stiff leg is no problem? What, hey, I hope you don’t think I can hold you up against a wall. I’m not that strong.”

  
“Tommy,” I said, kissed him a couple of times, then continued, “I am going to lay you out flat on the bed, rip off your clothes, and then just for a change of pace, you are going to lie very still and enjoy yourself while I make love to you.”

  
“Oh.”

  
“Unless you think I can’t do that without bumping your knee.”

  
“Oh!”

  
“I think I can even manage to avoid your bruises.”

 
 
“You think?”

  
“We’ve got all night to find out, lover.”

  
When Tommy grinned, it lit up his whole face. There’s only one word to describe that face. Gorgeous.

 
END

Phoebe Matthews is currently writing three urban fantasy series, plus an historical romance trilogy of novellas titled Chicago 1890s. Her other historical romance is Unsuitable Suitors, originally published as a Dell Candlelight Regency.

Her current titles, as well as her backlist, plus sample chapters, reviews and awards can be found at http://phoebematthews.com.

If you enjoyed Deja Vu Lover, you may also enjoy the Mudflat series, set in the Seattle area, with a trip to another world in the first book. Here is the first chapter of Tarbaby Trouble, the first book in the series. Tarbaby Trouble won the 2009 EPIC for Best Fantasy.

TARBABY TROUBLE

Mudflat 1

Chapter 1

Flattened against the wood fence, the alley dumpster odors were strong enough to make me want to puke. I fought it, fought puking, because I've never been able to do it silently. And if he heard me, he'd find me and then I would be dead meat, stinking a lot worse than the dumpster.

“Claire? Claire honey? I want to talk to you, Claire. That's all, just talk.”

Yeah, and right after we talk and I tell you no, I do not have the information you want, you slit my throat, right, fella? I'm not stupid. Oh, maybe I am or I wouldn't be hiding in an alley with the likes of Dork tracking me down. Okay, so his name isn't Dork, it's Darryl, but it might as well be Dork. Dork the cheat, Dork the con man, Dork the liar, or, if I go Goth, Dork the Destroyer, because that's sure what he wants to do to me.