The Way You Make Me Feel (9 page)

Eileen cleared her throat. “Murder is always a horrific business. I'm glad we have so few cold cases. I've gone back part-time for a while and I'll be working on it.” She had spent several years with the Sheriff's Department before she married Detective Rollins.

Detective Rollins chuckled and asked wryly, “You singing ‘I Don't Need You Anymore' tonight?”

Stevie raised her eyebrows as she looked at him. “I wouldn't miss it for anything.”

They both were looking over at Jake's table where he sat with his lawyer and bodyguard and a good-looking, flashily dressed woman Stevie didn't know.

Jake got up, calmly walked onstage and grabbed the microphone. He swayed with liquor as much as anything and his grin was wide and evil.

“So the Queen of Passion is back,” he growled. “When I had her, that title sure fit. She nearly burned my house and me up with her fire. Now she's flown my coop and I'm lonely. My bed is cold and I want her back, but she's found herself another dude.”

The people in the room held their collective breath and a woman mumbled, “Dog. He don't have to put Stevie's business in the street.”

Still standing by the Rollins's table, Stevie burned with anger. It had happened so many times before, and now she remembered.

With the whiskey running in his veins, Jake was all set to continue when a coldly furious Damien got onstage and cut the microphone off. “You're embarrassing the lady,” he said evenly.

Damien towered over Jake, and Damien had had little to drink. “Don't mess with my thunder,” Jake muttered. Then his voice got loud again. “You can't kill a man for trying. A hot woman leaves you craving for more of what she's got.” And he called out, “Stevie, come home!”

Damien collared him then and the cold fury with which he pulled Jake up frightened the drunken man. Damien's calm eyes had become killer eyes; he was fit and ready to fight. Jake realized then that he was more inebriated than he'd thought.

Damien gripped Jake as he fiercely told him, “Don't
ever
do this to Stevie again. I swear I'll hurt you so bad you'll never get over it.”

Alarmed, the bodyguard had come onstage. He touched Damien and Damien turned around to take him on. Jake threw his hands up. “No. Let it go, man. Steele's gone crazy. Let's get out of this damned place.”

But Jake and his party didn't leave. Jake sat thinking that nobody ran Jake McGowan. He owned a rhythm-and-blues recording company and his name was well represented throughout the country. He was a mogul. He was rich and he backed down from no man. He ordered another round of drinks and dug in to wait for the dancing that would come later.

Stevie went back to her dressing room to freshen her makeup and Damien came after her and shut the door. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

“I'm…okay. Damien, that was a wonderful thing to do. Someday I surely hope I'm able to make all this up to you.”

“A simple kiss will do it for right now.”

“Take a couple. I feel generous. Six months ago something like what Jake just did would have shaken me to pieces. It has in the past. Now, you're slowly freeing me. Out there tonight, I had more memories return of things Jake did to me—and to others.”

Damien thought the time for talking was over and he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, loving the luscious lips and the way she clung to him. Her body against his was everything a woman's body ought to be. He wanted to talk with her as much as he wanted to kiss her; he wanted the evening to be over and them to be home.

As his big hands stroked her back and held her into him, she shuddered the length of her body and kissed him harder. Taking his mouth away from hers for a few seconds he told her, “I'd take on the world if it's going to get me kisses like that.”

Someone knocked then and Jessi and Ron came in, indignant.

“That bastard,” Ron said, then turned to Damien. “Man, I really admire your style.”

Jessi came to Stevie, hugged her. “I was worried, but you're fine. One day Jake McGowan's gonna get what's coming to him. I love what you did to him, Damien. You made him look like a fool. I think he'll think twice before trying to humiliate Stevie again.”

Damien shrugged. “Nobody hurts Stevie while I'm around. Nobody.”

“Okay, y'all, we're ready,” Stevie told them. “Tonight I'm gonna sing ‘I Don't Need You Anymore' like I've never sung it before. Are you with me, Ron?”

Ron rocked himself on his heels. “You bet I'm ready, Mama. Just lead me on.”

Back onstage, with the smooth tones of her guitar and Ron's bass fiddle behind her, Stevie was all aglow. Her skin gleamed and she tossed her head as she announced what she would sing and she put her head a little to one side and began.

She had the crowd in the palms of her hands and Jake watched her with hate-filled eyes. One young man chortled loudly, “Sing it just for me, Mama. I'm listnin'. I'm listnin'.”

And an older woman took up the chant for a man she'd had to dump. “You wrote that song just for me, Stevie. You knew this time was coming. No, man, I don't need you anymore. I did, but I don't need you no more.”

The song and its meaning washed over Stevie and she felt it in her soul. She had written this song when she'd begun to have enough of Jake and his meanness.

And yes, she had worshipped Jake when she'd just begun to make it and he had pursued her with passion. He'd been big enough to let her record with Damien because hers were the type of songs Damien's Nubian Gold did best. How could you know something would prove so wrong? It hadn't taken long for things to begin to go haywire. But Stevie had her parents' marriage as a beacon and she refused to believe she couldn't save her own. So she'd stayed and stayed until Jake's extra women were almost ordering her out of her own home. Even then, she hadn't left, not until the battering had begun, and she knew she wasn't taking that. He was older, wiser, smarter and until the end he showered her with material things. Cold things when she needed and wanted warmth.

Her heart and soul sparkled when she spoke the next words in a gripping mezzo-soprano.

Stevie's voice then was exultant, triumphant with sheer exuberance.

She sang it for all it was worth and it was worth plenty. Jake sat slouched down in his chair, morose and brooding.

She sang two more verses, with a chorus after each one and the crowd took on her mood of buoyancy and sheer joy.

“Yeah, freedom!” A woman shouted as Stevie spaced each word evenly.
“I don't need you anymore!”

The people in the room were having a lovefest and Stevie couldn't remember a time when she'd felt better. Bretta would have loved this and Stevie murmured, “Rest in peace, little loved one. We'll find whoever did this to you.” And she included herself amongst those who would find the perpetrator because she knew she would leave no stone unturned.

When she had finished and Ron was soaked in sweat, she bowed low and the crowd rose as one and surged to the stage, whistling and stamping their feet with love and passion.

“You're my girl!” a man yelled. “You've always been my girl! You'll
always
be my girl! Hey, I love my wife, but you're my girl!”

And the man's wife stood there grinning, saying, “She's my girl, too. I think she's wonderful.”

The tables were cleared, the grand old jukebox was turned on and the dancing began.

Some danced inside and some out on the lowlit marble pavilion outside.

Damien came to her. “Give me a chance to hold you.”

She nodded and went into his arms and her body fitted to his the way it always did. They hadn't kissed often, but when they had it had been memorable. His face nestled against her cheek, and her perfume was turning him on in powerful waves. She felt the bulge of him against her and it set her on fire. In a room full of people they were alone.

Then that dance ended and Stevie saw that Detective Rollins and his wife danced nearby. “Would you like to change partners for a dance?” the detective asked.

Stevie and Damien both nodded and when the music started up again she moved into Detective Rollins's arms. He proved a smooth dancer and she teased him. “You've got a lot of rhythm.”

“And I'm not supposed to?”

“Sure you are. Just teasing.”

“I wanted to tell you we're turning everything upside down to find Bretta's killer. We've got some good intelligence. How's the memory?”

“It's coming in amazingly well. I still see Dr. Winslow twice weekly. He tells me he's never heard of a patient coming along more swiftly, and he thinks it's because I'm so determined.”

“Still nothing about what happened that night she was killed?”

“No, nothing.”

And it made her sad wondering when she would remember. And what.

A
s soon as they were in the house, Damien turned to Stevie. “You were on fire tonight, baby. I don't think McGowan will ever be the same.”

“He had it coming. And you, my caveman.”

Damien grinned. “I'm gonna do something I've wanted to do all night.” He took her in his arms and kissed her gently when she was expecting passion.

“Is that the best you can do?” she teased him.

His look was somber. “Believe me, the way I feel, I could scorch you, but I hold back most of the time. I know the dynamite that's there and I want you to get well before I sweep you off your feet. You sleepy?”

“Not even a little bit. Why?”

“Feel like us making a quick snack and talking?”

“Ummm, I'd love that. I'm all excited. I don't think I
can
sleep.”

They went into the big kitchen and began to prepare club sandwiches of ham, cheese and turkey on toast and sugar-free hot chocolate. As they moved about, Stevie did happy dance steps with exaggerated rhythm as she popped her fingers and Damien watched her, his eyes lazily roving her body.

“Ah, hit it, Mama,” he encouraged. He was doing the chocolate and asked, “D'you want a marshmallow in your chocolate?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Sugar and I got a hostile divorce a while back when I was threatening diabetes. Now we don't even speak. Chocolate is my only indulgence.”

Damien laughed. “You want the sugar substitute then?”

“Yeah. Good old Splenda. What would I do without it?”

Damien became thoughtful. “You know, Stevie, we're comfortable together. Companionable. I've known old married couples who don't meld the way we do.”

At the phrase
old married couples
, she thrilled.

“We really like each other,” she said, as they sat down and began to eat slowly. Reaching over a nearby table, she picked up a bowl of lowfat potato chips Cina had made and crunched into one. “Ummm good. You think Cina and Ben enjoyed the show?”

“They loved it, they told me.”

She sat reflecting that he hadn't responded to her statement that they liked each other and she backed off to give him space.

He smiled at her and put a big hand over hers. “You said we like each other. My feelings go beyond that, Stevie. I
respect
you completely. You know, I don't think most people know how important respect is. It can mean the difference between living and half living. In a great many cultures, there's no word for love, but all cultures hold respect dear. I guess what I'm saying is you've got to feel me coming on to you and you've got to wonder. What I'm feeling is real and good marriages have come from no more.

His eyes were steady, dreaming. “Do you insist on love, Stevie? God knows, like me, you were in love and got badly burned.” His leg touched hers and her body flamed. Why had he mentioned marriage? No woman was ever going to claim his heart again. She had nursed him through torment and her heart still went out to him. She wanted to tell him that with him she insisted on nothing. She just wanted to love him with all her heart.

“I don't insist on anything anymore,” she said quietly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I feel you getting closer to me all the time. I find myself thinking about you, feeling you when you're not there. I want to protect you. I'm
going
to protect you. Tonight I could have killed McGowan because I knew how you were feeling and I know what he put you through in the past. You've been hurt enough, the same way I've been hurt enough.”

They had finished the snack and he began to stack the few dishes. She placed her hand over his. “You're helping me to heal.” She hesitated before asking, “Don't I help you at all?”

“You'd better believe you do. But I stared down death after Honi left and it terrifies me to think of going there again. I'm going to kiss you again because I can't help myself. I want you more than I've ever wanted any woman, even Honi.” His magnetic eyes held hers. “We both want at least one child, maybe more. Why deny ourselves that? I don't want to use you. I've never used any woman. I want to marry you, Stevie. Does that make sense?”

The room was spinning slowly around her. Was she hearing things? she wondered.

“You want to marry me,” she said slowly. “Do we know each other well enough?”

Oh, she wanted to leap and clutch his statement to her bosom and she wanted to do the same thing to him, but she wanted the love she had always dreamed of and had never gotten.

His glance probed hers. “We know each other very, very well. Couples have known each other for years, gotten married and separated before the year was up. Others have been strangers, courted for a few days or a few weeks, married and stayed together a lifetime. When I hold you I know what heaven has to be like. The respect I feel for you is like none I've felt before, although I've always deeply respected women, beginning with my mother. Do you know how the dictionary defines respect?”

“Not really. Tell me.”

“It means ‘to highly regard.' Simple, but so profound. Some people say they love you, but they prove they don't regard you very highly. Think about it.”

“I
am
thinking. And it's something I'd never thought of before.”

“Will you marry me?”

“What about Honi?” she moaned. “Damien, can it work with you still in love with her?”

He was silent a long while before he said, “Maybe I'm lying to myself, but I don't think so. I've put Honi out of my life and moved on to—and with—you. We can make this work. I know it.
Please
, baby.”

There. His question entered her heart, filled it. “Yes, I'll marry you.” She asked herself if she were mad and knew she had never been more sane.

He got up and pulled her to her feet. “You'll never be sorry.” His mouth found hers and ravaged it with tender heat for the longest time, and his muscular body pressed against hers with hunger that could not be denied. She felt the bulge of his shaft almost piercing her and thrill after thrill shot through her. She gave a small cry as she pressed in even closer, desire sweeping like wildfire along her veins. They could make it on the kitchen floor or a table. Who needed beds?

He pulled away and looked at her. “Do you know what you're getting into? I'm no prize. You know the life I was leading before you brought me back to reality. Running after women, boozing, neglecting a business I fought to build, never taking care of myself. But I changed, Stevie. I haven't had a woman since you set my feet on a straight path again. Maybe I've been saving myself for you all this time.”

They put the dishes in the dishwasher, turned it on. His face looked very dear to her as he told her, “Let's sit up all night, watch the sun come up. I want to dance with you.”

They went into the living room and he put on a Barry White album, with a Sade album on the CD beside it.

As his body curved around hers, she murmured, “We're torturing ourselves.”

“I know, but it's sweet torture.”

She had not known she would say it, but he had said he wanted her to get well before he took her. “Damien, I'm going to move back home.”

In mild shock he held her a bit away from him and his voice caught. “Why?”

“Because I feel I'll get my memory back faster there.”

“Lord, you're going at the speed of light here. Dr. Winslow is very pleased. And I'm ecstatic.”

“Yes, I know. I'm really moving along, but I'm getting nowhere with remembering what happened that Sunday night. I now remember the day, but not the night.” She shivered a bit in his arms and he held her tighter as Barry's silken moans stirred their blood. “I think I'll remember that night once I move back.”

“I'm going back with you.”

“You can't do that. You have Nubian Gold to take care of. I've taken up too much of your time already.”

“A man is supposed to take care of his wife. Don't argue. I'll just do it.”

“Why didn't I meet you long ago?”

“Oh, we met, we were just tangled up with others who broke our hearts.” His mood changed then as Barry's voice led them into heat and passion. “You're familiar with the old country song, ‘I Want to Kiss You All Over'?”

Her voice was husky as she answered. “I'm familiar.”

“You're driving me crazy. I'll take you home and you can get well, then get pregnant. But we don't need to wait to get married. We've got a baby clamoring to get born and we've got passion personified waiting in the wings. I'm going to take you so high you fly. Stevie, we're going to have a wonderful life.”

She echoed his sentiments, but a part of her held back. He seemed happy enough, and, yes, she was happy; but deep inside she hungered for him to say he loved her and she shook herself. He was nothing if not honest. Did she want him to lie? At least he wasn't going to love somebody else. But a little part of her said she wouldn't have objected if he lied.

As Barry's mellifluous, love-drenched voice segued into another song, Damien kissed the corner of her mouth and his tongue made circular motions. “Why do I let you do this to me?” she asked him.

“Because…” he began and didn't finish. It was on the tip of his tongue to say “Because you love me,” but he didn't say it. They both avoided speaking of love. The word carried too many memories of pain. She made herself satisfied with his declaration of deep respect which she valued highly and he knew she would hold back because she was afraid of being hurt again. Two wounded doves, he thought, but they helped each other through the night and what a splendid night it was turning out to be.

“Do you read the Bible?” he asked her.

“Almost every day. It gives me strength and the language is so beautiful.”

“The ‘Song of Solomon'?”

“My favorite.”

“Will you read to me and I'll read to you? We could each take a chapter.”

They sat in his den and he went to his library and brought back a Bible, handed it to her. She studied it before opening. Rich black smooth leather, hand-bound, with gold lettering on the cover. Inside were the thin, familiar pages of the King James version. Finding the “Song of Solomon,” she studied it for a few minutes, then began to read:

They sat on a loveseat. Bending, he removed her shoes, put them aside and drew her feet into his lap and rubbed them.

“You act like an old married man,” she said.

“And I will be just that soon.”

He smiled sleepily as she began to read again, her voice warm and tender. She read slowly as she thought about each word. Solomon and Sheba. A love for the ages. A
love
. She and Damien had so much, but they couldn't call it love.

She finished reading and handed the book to him and he looked at it, saying. “No, you need to read this chapter because it could have been written especially for you. After that, let's pick and choose which verses, which chapters fit each one of us.”

“Okay.” She proceeded to read verses that had thrilled her since she was a teenager.

She was coming to the part that thrilled her most and she stopped, looked at him.

“I think I know what's coming next,” he said. “This is the world's first real romance story. Well, not the first, but the best. Go on, love.”

She flinched a bit. He had this way of calling her
love
. She wished he wouldn't do it, it was so overused in their industry, yet it thrilled her to her core when he did.

She looked at him and her eyes were misty. He massaged her feet and listened as she read the rest of the chapter, then he took the Bible from her and began to read. Music poured from the CD player. Borodin's “Nocturne.” As he read, she thought about the music. Exquisite.

It took a while and Wagner's “Liebestod” from
Tristan and Isolde
was on when he finished. Sighing, he put the book on the cocktail table and turned to her saying abruptly, “I care about you and you care about me. We're well bonded. You've got a body made for bearing kids and I want to be the man who puts them in you.”