The Adventurer (22 page)

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Holding Devon’s sleeping head to her bosom, Jessica stared into the darkness and fought a rush of tears. She’d tried to convince herself that sweet memories would keep her warm after Devon had gone. Now she wanted so much more. She wanted his heart. She wanted his love. She wanted forever.

But all she could keep was the memory. It simply wasn’t enough.

Chapter Eleven.

It was a lovely dream.

Jessica felt as if she were a complacent kitten curled in a warm lap. Loving fingers stroked her furry head. The soothing sensation made her all floaty inside. She was safe.

She was loved. She purred with contentment.

After a delicious stretch, her groggy mind wakened slowly, with a gentle slide into ambiguous awareness. She felt sunlight on her face. It was morning. Instinctively she realized that it was a beautiful morning-perhaps the most beautiful morning of her life-but she hadn’t awakened completely enough to remember why.

But she still felt like that purring kitten nestled against a warm body.

And someone was definitely petting her head. She blinked and was immediately blinded by a shaft of sunlight from the undraped window. Moaning, she covered , her eyes, pulled up her knees and scrunched her face into the pillow. Something tickled her nose. Odd she thought. Not only did the pillow seem unusually firm and warm, it was also hairy. When her eyelids sprang open, the first thing she saw was a man’s wristwatch. Then she saw the wrist to which it was attached and beyond that, a masculine hand dangling partially over the mattress in comfortable repose. Even with all those clues, it took a moment for her to realize that she was using the crook of an arm as a pillow. And a moment longer to realize that the arm belonged to Devon Monroe.

The fingers that were stroking her head slid down to caress her cheek.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. ” Murmuring a slurred greeting, Jessica levered up on one elbow and wiped a sluggish hand across her face. A shake of her head helped clear the fog from her mind.

“Did you sleep well? ” Devon asked.

“Hmm. ” She covered a yawn, then absently reached back to massage her neck.

“And you? “

“Never better. ” He grazed the inside of her raised arm with his thumb. ” Has anyone told you how lovely you are in the morning? ” She was considering a flippant reply when she suddenly moved her leg against his bare thigh and remembered that he was naked beneath the covers. Even worse, so was she. Except, of course, for the bra she’d refused to remove. That modest garment, along with the concealing darkness, had cloaked her disfigurement. But now the room was awash with sunlight brilliant enough to magnify even the tiniest flaw. She was even more horrified to realize that her arm was tossed carelessly over her head to reveal the ugly scars extending beyond the concealing fabric of her bra. She yanked down her arm, pinning it to her side, and snapped a stunned glance over her shoulder. The look on Devon’s face indicated that the gesture was too late. Before he could do more than call her name, she whipped off the covers, hopped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom. She sagged against the vanity and tried to compose herself. Devon’s expression hadn’t been one of revulsion He had, in fact, seemed rather thoughtful. Still, the harsh light of day had been known to cool more than one man’s ardor and Jessica wondered with increasing trepidation what might be running through his mind. As to what was going on in her own mind, well, that was utter chaos. Her heart ached in the afterglow of their glorious lovemaking yet she was sobered by the stern warnings of her anxious mind. For a few intoxicating moments, reality had been suspended; they’d savored a veritable feast of tactile delights and inflamed passions. For those sublime and all-too-brief hours, Jessica had pushed everything else out of her mind-the past, the future, the reality of their divergent lives. But now tomorrow had arrived and with it, the paralyzing fear that last night might be all that they would ever have.

A soft knock at the door made her gasp. “Jessica? Are you all right? “

She spun around, touched her throat, and fought for an even tone. “I’m fine. I’m just, uh-” she fumbled with the faucet ” brushing my teeth. ” A thin stream of water bubbled into the basin. ” I’ll be out in a few minutes.

Except for the dribbling faucet, the room was silent. Then Devon said,

“No hurry. I’ll put on the coffee. “

“Thank you. “

Jessica held her breath. When his footsteps moved away from the door, she exhaled slowly, leaned over the sink and splashed her face with icy water. She turned off the faucet, glimpsed her reflection in the vanity mirror and as was her habit, automatically turned away. A small voice in the back of her mind chided her for the foolish avoidance. It was a voice she hadn’t noticed before. So she listened. Take a good look, it said. If you can’t accept what you see, neither can anyone else. That was true, of course, although grudging acknowledgement didn’t make the task any easier. She forced her reluctant gaze forward and saw a terrified woman staring back at her. Except for the buzzed hair and a smear of slept on mascara, the woman wasn’t completely unattractive. Jessica scrutinized her image closely. Her cheeks were a bit hollow, but she didn’t really look as gaunt as she once had. The five pounds she’d put on in the past month had helped more than she’d realized. But it wasn’t her face she was concerned with. With stoic determination, she stepped back until her upper torso appeared in the mirror, then raised her arm to inspect the scars Devon had seen. They were still there and they were still ugly. The worst was a thickened red welt just below and to the front of her shoulder joint. This, and similar scars in her armpit, had resulted from a precautionary lymph nodes extraction The incisions had healed well, although the area was subject to bouts of edema and was painful when she overexerted the weakened arm muscles. For the first time, she studied the disfigurements with a modicum of objectivity and decided that the periphery blemishes, although not particularly appealing, weren’t as repugnant as she’d once thought. The breast itself was quite another matter. Along with the tumor, a marginal amount of tissue had been removed from the outside portion of her right breast. The result was a puckered cavern the size of a golf ball and a tweaked nipple that pointed to the right rather than straight ahead. Despite her fretting, Jessica was well aware that she was more fortunate than many women for whom mastectomy had been required. Just having a nipple, tweaked or otherwise , would be a benefit for reconstructive surgery, a future option she hadn’t considered until now. Meanwhile the contours of her custom brassiere provided the outward appearance of normalcy. Jessica studied her reflection, sobered by the realization that although no cancer victim could ever be considered “lucky, ” her own optimistic outcome had made her more fortunate than many others. Wallowing in angst over what couldn’t be changed was pointless, puerile and a waste of precious Iime.

Right on, echoed the voice in her mind.

She sighed. Mental pep talks were easy; being rejected by a man you’re crazy in love with, now that was a bitch.

But nobody ever said life would be easy.

Puffing her cheeks, Jessica blew out a breath and decided that she couldn’t lurk in the bathroom all day. Tempting as the option was, she had to face Devon. If he regretted what had happened last night, well, she’d find the strength to deal with that, too. But she couldn’t deal with anything while wearing nothing but a bra and a terrified expression. Fortunately, a fresh supply of laundered lingerie was slung over the shower rod, so she slipped into a pair of fresh panties, pulled a cotton duster from the door hook and hurriedly completed her morning routine. Then, with clean teeth and a freshly scrubbed face, she took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

Devon was at the window, shirtless, his jeans slung low over his hips.

He turned as she entered the room, regarding her warily. “Hi. ” ‘ “Hi. ” Jessica tightened the duster’s cloth belt, deliberately averting her gaze from the tousled bed. She stared instead out the open door toward the kitchen. ” Did you find the coffee? “

“Sure. It’s almost ready. “

“Good. That’s good. ” She closed her eyes with a silent moan. This was without a doubt the most awkward moment of her life. She wanted to leap into Devon’s arms and cover him with kisses. She wanted to press his dear face to her heart and confess that she’d fallen in love with him. She wanted to feel his hands all over her body, thrilling her with the warmth of his tender touch.

She wanted all of those things; so why were they talking about coffee?

Because she was a coward, that’s why. Despite her mental fortification, her determination to “deal with” reality, Jessica was deathly afraid of rejection. She couldn’t look at Devon for fear of what she’d see in his eyes. She couldn’t look at the bed because the memory of what had happened there sent delicious chills down her spine. So she stood there like a stupid rock, doing nothing, saying nothing, resolving nothing.

And the miserable silence stretched on.

From the corner of her eye, Jessica saw Devon fold his arms and lean back against the wall. He cleared his throat. She stiffened. “I guess this morning-after stuff isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, ” he said lightly. She chanced a glance and saw a forced smile contradicting his guarded gaze. “No, I guess it isn’t. ” ‘ His smile faded. He shifted restlessly and stared across the room. “You look like a woman with a pocketful of regrets” “Me? Oh, no. I thought you were the one…” Confused , she fiddled with the limp cotton belt and allowed the words to die naturally. Devon measured her with a penetrating gaze. “What was it that you thought, Jessica? “

She managed a listless shrug. “I thought you might be a bit put off. “

“Put off? By what? ” When she didn’t respond, he crossed the room and took hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “By your scars? “Her darting gaze supplied the answer. He moaned. “Look, I know sometimes I come across as a shallow jerk but-”

“I’ve never thought that. “

He smiled at her indignant denial. “Never? Not even once? “

“Well… maybe before I got to know you, but I was wrong. “

“Were you? ” “Of course I was. You’re one of the finest men I’ve ever met. You’re understanding and sensitive and… and… why on earth are you grinning like that? ” “I was just wondering why you’d believe such a sensitive , understanding man would give a fat flying fig about a couple of little pink scars. “

Her face was suddenly hot enough to glow. “

“You haven’t seen them all. “

He sobered instantly. “You don’t get it, do you? “

“Get what? ” “.I.he fact that I don’t care about the scars. I don’t care whether or not you even have a breast. Can’t you understand ? It just doesn’t matter”

Bewildered by his vehemence, Jessica searched his eyes and said nothing.

Devon set his chin. “You don’t believe me, do you? You think for some perverse reason I’m just spouting whatever you want to hear. ” “I think you mean what you’re saying but…” She chewed her lip and looked away. “But what? ” He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “But once I see the horror of disfigured flesh, you think I’m going to run screaming into the night? “

She winced at the harsh words. “Not exactly. “

After releasing Jessica so abruptly that she swayed, Devon took several steps backward until he was standing flat footed in the center of the room. “So, you want to talk about physical imperfections? ” Actually, that was the last thing she wanted to talk about but before she could say so, Devon was pointing to the jagged scar on his upper chest, the one she’d noticed earlier. “This, ” he said dramatically, “is what happens when one attempts to break up a knife fight in Milan. “

“Oh, Lord! That’s awful!”

“And this little jewel-” he swung around to display an ugly puckered circle below his left shoulder blade “-was compliments of a Somalian sniper.

Attractive, huh? “

Jessica felt sick. “Please… you don’t have to do this. ” “Ah, but it gets better. ” Facing her again, he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them into a denim puddle at his feet. “These shrapnel scars are from Beirut. ” He pointed out a horrible road map of lumpy tissue on his left thigh then directed her attention to a similar mass spidering out from a deep cavern in his right calf. “And this is Ethiopian shrapnel. Of the two, I prefer the Lebanese version quicker , cleaner, blows out less muscle. ” “Ohmygod ” Jessica pressed a hand to her mouth. “How can you joke about this? ” He straightened, smiling cheerfully. “Why shouldn’t I joke about it? It happened. It’s over. I lived through it. Since these little mementos aren’t going away, I might as well have some fun with them. “

“Fun, ” she repeated lamely.

“Sure. I named the one on my shoulder Duck n’ Run as a reminder of what I should have done when the altercation started. The Somalian souvenir is called American Dog, because that’s what the sniper yelled before he pulled the trigger. “

“You’re making this up. “

“Nope. ” His fingertip traced a quick cross over his heart. “Remember the old saying, ” There are a million stories in the naked city’? Same thing, only in my case it’s a naked body. ” He looked so smug, and so silly standing there in his shorts with his jeans rumpled around his ankles that she couldn’t help but smile and go along with the gag. “So what do you call Beirut? ” “Ah. ” He affectionately patted his scarred thigh.” This one is my favorite. I call it Cross Fire-the reason is obvious -and the one on my calf is named Drumstick because -” She held up her hand and groaned. “I.et me guess. You christened it Drumstick because it looks like a chewed chicken leg. ” He brightened. “Right. Say, you’re really getting the hang of this. ” ‘ She shook her head, trying not to chuckle and losing the battle. “You’ve made your point. ” “Not quite. There’s one more grossly maimed part of my anatomy that you’re entitled to see. ” With that, he yanked down his briefs and turned around to expose another puckered bullet scar. This one was in his right buttock. “I call it the Ego Buster. ” A tickled snort slipped out. Jessica covered her mouth, trying desperately to hold back the laughter. She couldn’t. Her shoulders vibrated. A series of muffled giggles escaped her smothering palms to waft audibly across the room. Devon pulled up his briefs and feigned a stricken expression. “i hope it’s just the scar you find amusing and not something more personal. ” At that point, Jessica lost it completely. She let out a howl, spun around and clung to the bathroom doorjamb, laughing so hard she couldn’t have stood on her own if she’d wanted to. She laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks, her knees buckled and her ribs went into a spasm. Then she sank onto the floor in a quivering, giggling heap. “Ohh. ” She sniffed and wiped her wet eyes. “I’m s-sorry. I don’t know wh-what’s gotten into me. “