Wild Honey (14 page)

Dumbfounded, he stared at the slender figure tearing up
the beach. She looked, he thought, as if all the devils of hell were pursuing her.

His mind fastened suddenly on an image of a small boy with hair the color of his own. Stifling a curse, he concentrated on the woman with hell in her eyes. What would put that kind of terror in a woman when a man had been making slow, careful love to her? Did it have anything to do with that counseling she and her sister had undergone?

Again an image of his son filled his mind, and he felt a prick of fear. Had Matt ever seen those devils? He’d read about kids who were raised by unstable parents…but Matt seemed so
normal.
Still…

His eyes narrowed and he set his jaw grimly. “Whatever your devils are, Randi Terhune,” he growled into the darkness, “I’m makin’ it my business to know what they are. Count on it.”

R
ANDI HAD NIGHTMARES
that night. Genuine dyed-in-thewool nightmares. In the morning her bedclothes were tangled in a twisted jumble and half on the floor; her hair and nightgown were soaked with sweat. She’d awakened with her fists clenching on the sheets and her heart slamming against her chest.

Oddly enough, she couldn’t remember the content of the nightmares; and her memory of what had happened on the beach was rather vague. She remembered the bonfire with Travis, the wieners and marshmallows, the champagne. But that was all. The rest faded into a blur she didn’t care to examine or try to recall. She only knew that somehow she’d left, gotten herself to the cottage and then into bed.

But she did know she had no desire to continue seeing Travis McLean. Research or not, she wanted to drop the whole idea, and Jill would just have to understand. As for McLean’s designs on Matt…

“I’ll deal with that later if I have to,” she muttered as she hurried into the shower. “If I avoid him, maybe he’ll get the idea. Then I won’t need to deal with him at all.”

But to avoid him, she had to be where he couldn’t find her. His habit of showing up unannounced made it imperative that she not be here if he did. At first she considered leaving the cottage early. But to do that, she’d need to explain her reasons to Jill and David, who’d planned to return with Matt to the cottage. But how could she explain to them what she hardly understood herself?

A plan began to form as she dressed; it solidified as she gulped down a couple of cups of strong coffee. If she needed further proof of having had her sleep disturbed by nightmares, her body’s lethargy confirmed it; she felt like a zombie.

Her plan involved not answering the phone in case Travis tried to call. Of course, she’d first need to make a quick call to Jill in Orlando, inventing some excursion that would be keeping her away from the phone for several days; she didn’t want Jill and David to worry. Then she’d spend every waking hour out of the cottage—sightseeing, antiquing, whatever. As long as it kept her away from the cottage and beach. Away from the places where Travis would look for her.

With all this firmly in mind, she was pulling out of the drive by nine that morning. The phone had rung as she was leaving the cottage, but she didn’t answer it, despite the fact that it could have been Jill. Unfortunately no one had answered when she called Jill and David’s suite, and she’d had to leave her message with the hotel desk. But perhaps that was for the best; her sister was a shrewd judge of her moods, so speaking to her directly might have alerted her; then she’d have had awkward questions to answer.

Meanwhile, she had an itinerary worked out, and she’d stick to it. Travis wouldn’t find her. He might even think she’d left for good. She’d drawn the shades and locked up as if she had.

Her only moment of uncertainty came when she was speeding down the highway. When disturbing images of a warm male body and drugging kisses intruded. Muttering a curse, she thrust them aside.

T
RAVIS SLAMMED DOWN
the receiver with a frustrated growl. Beside him on the bed, Ulysses raised his head and whined, as if to ask what was wrong.

“Sorry, fella.” Travis reached out and stroked the pup’s
shaggy head reassuringly. “It’s not your fault she doesn’t answer.”

He’d been phoning Randi’s cottage since before nine. It was now past noon. In the interim he’d even driven over there, only to find no one home. Moreover, the cottage had looked deserted—shades drawn, no swimsuit hung out to dry, no Jeep in the drive.

He’d even searched the beach; but though he combed it for a good mile in both directions, there’d been no sign of her. Dammit, it looked as if she’d gone home. Yet he knew she had more than a week of vacation left. Had last night spooked her so badly she’d cut her time here short?

It was possible, he supposed, given her state of near hysteria last night. Remembering the terror in her eyes had him swearing softly and eyeing his suitcase; there was a company shrink in Langley; maybe he could finagle some answers out of the guy. Answers as to what could make a woman act that way, given the circumstances.

The circumstances.
The thought brought a sardonic twist to his mouth. The plain fact was that a woman had gone ballistic while he was in the process of making love to her. Not exactly what a man had in mind after a romantic picnic under the stars.

He glanced again at the suitcase standing beside the dresser, then shook his head. Langley would have to wait; Ulysses had an appointment with the vet tomorrow, and it made sense to have his leg checked by the vet who first saw him.

Travis leaned back on the bed, his face a resolute mask. It wasn’t just the shrink he’d consult in Langley. The data base held the name of the counselor the Terhune girls had seen, even if the nature of their sessions was too privileged a piece of information to show up. But if the counselor was still in business, the guy would probably have a file on them.

He might be way off base, but Randi’s fit of hysteria on
the beach had Travis deeply worried; it couldn’t be normal, and she
had
been in counseling for quite a bit of time. What if it left her functioning normally most of the time, but subject to irrational behavior under certain circumstances? Dammit, there was Matt to think of!

He smiled grimly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d broken into someone’s private files for information that couldn’t be had any other way. Jason Cord would never sanction it of course, but Jason didn’t need to know. Jason, he thought, his fear making his imagination mushroom, didn’t have a son being raised by a woman who just might be wacko and maybe, just maybe, unfit to be a mother.

J
ILL GLANCED
at the sleeping figure of her nephew in the back seat of the Volvo and frowned. It wasn’t like Matt to fall asleep in the middle of the day. Always a lively child, he’d given up morning naps before he was a year old and had quit needing naps altogether before he turned three.

“David,” she said, turning to her fiancé, “did Matt seem unusually subdued to you at breakfast?”

David shrugged. “Maybe a little. Why?”

She explained about the naps.

He smiled. “He’s probably worn-out, honey. God knows, I am. I don’t think I’ve ever walked so much in my life. Not even in the army.”

He glanced at her, giving her cheek a gentle stroke before returning his eyes to. the road. “How about you, lady? Aren’t you just a mite tired, too? C’mon now, ‘fess up.”

“Who, me?” Jill looked indignant. “I can’t imagine what makes you say that. Just because my feet feel like they’ve been bent into pretzels? And the thought of waiting in one more line has me ready to spit? Or, hey, I know! It’s because I look like the wicked witch of the west just as she began to melt into a little puddle, right?”

“Huh, some wicked witch. If they all looked like you, the fairy tales would be in trouble. Wicked witches are
supposed to be ugly, y’know. And they sure aren’t supposed to have long sexy legs!” He glanced at them and whistled.

She chuckled, batting her lashes at him and raising the hem of her miniskirt higher.

“Woman,” he groaned, “behave yourself. We have an innocent child in this car!”

She chuckled again and blew him a kiss. She was thoroughly at home with her sexuality and loved these playful little exchanges with David. She was also aware it was something she never could have achieved without the help of Dr. Carol Martin. Or David.

He was the only lover she’d ever had, all she’d ever want, and she thanked God for him every day of her life. It sometimes seemed a miracle that she’d found this sensitive caring man to love. To love her as she grew stronger and recovered from her childhood trauma of sexual abuse.

She sighed. If only Randi could experience the same miracle. But her sister needed to come to terms with her own abuse first, and she feared Randi wasn’t open to doing that.

In the back seat, Matt mumbled incoherently in his sleep. She caught a “Travis” among the garbled sounds.

David caught it, too. “Uh-oh, sounds like the half-pint’s still engrossed with Mister You-know-who. O1’ Randi’s not gonna be too happy about that.”

“Not unless she found out something promising about the man’s intentions, which I rather doubt,” Jill said. “You see, what I might regard as promising isn’t likely to be viewed as such by my sister.”

“Come again?”

“Well, maybe I’m just being a foolish romantic, but…”

“There nothing foolish about being a romantic, love.”

She smiled at him, reaching over to touch his hand. “I fully agree, darling. From our perspective, there isn’t, but Randi’s another kettle of fish. And yet…Oh, David, I know
it sounds crazy, but wouldn’t it be neat if Randi and this Travis could somehow…”

“Now, that
does
begin to sound…well, not foolish, but certainly unrealistic, sweetheart. You know your sister’s got a big wall around her where men are concerned. And we both know that wall’s not likely to come down unless she goes back into counseling.”

Jill had taken David into her confidence with regard to what she knew about Randi’s own trauma. He was to be her husband, after all, and she wanted no secrets between them.

She knew the confidence was safe; David would never say anything to anyone about it.

She sighed. “You’re right of course, but that doesn’t keep me from hoping for a miracle.”

“I know, love, but the only miracle Randi seems to want right now is for McLean to disappear from her life—and from Matt’s.”

She nodded. “Yet from the sound of things, that’s not likely to happen.” She glanced at the car phone. “Drat, I wish she weren’t away on those walking tours, so we could call her.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and not just about McLean. I’d feel better if we could be sure she’s heard the weather forecast.”

Again Jill nodded. A tropical storm had been building in the Caribbean during the past few days. They’d left early because of it. Its winds had built to more than seventy-five miles an hour, making it a full-fledged hurricane. They’d tried to reach Randi to alert her but hadn’t been able to reach her. A hurricane threatening the mainland could jeopardize more than Florida. The entire Eastern Seaboard was a possible target; there was no telling how fast Hurricane Alphonse would move or which path it would take.

Frowning, Jill turned on the radio and searched for a weather report.

R
ANDI ENTERED
the cottage with a tired sigh, setting down her packages and flicking on lights. It was still an hour till sunset, but the day had turned dark under a leaden overcast sky. That presaged a storm, if she was any judge, and she hoped it would blow over by morning. She didn’t fancy all these shopping expeditions in bad weather.

She set a kettle on the stove for tea and then slumped onto a kitchen chair. There were few things more depressing than rain on a beach vacation.

While waiting for the water to boil, she massaged the tired muscles at the back of her neck. Between sightseeing and shopping, she’d worn herself out. Still, a satisfied smile hovered on her lips.

To help kill time, she’d gone back to the antiques shop where she’d seen the mermaid weathervane. To her surprise, the proprietor had been running a one-day sale. Ten percent off everything, and on the weathervane, that amounted to a few hundred dollars. Still, that didn’t make it cheap.

Yet she’d been tempted, and she’d asked about the piece, learning its provenance, or authenticated history, from the proprietor. Mr. Connelly was an elderly man with a kind smile, and they’d enjoyed a lengthy conversation about their love of old things. Randi had openly admired the weathervane, but explained about her limited budget, even when it came to buying a wedding gift for her only sibling. To her amazement, Mr. Connelly had offered to take another ten percent off.

The mermaid was currently resting in the hallway, along with some plastic gismos for Matt, and she wasn’t a bit sorry. She’d cut down on some personal luxuries in the coming year, that was all, and stretch her budget to cover it.

The kettle whistled, and she rose to make her tea, just as headlights appeared in the drive.

“Uh-oh,” she murmured, praying it wasn’t Travis as she
moved to the window and peered out. The Volvo? What were they doing back this early? There were still four days to go. She felt a stir of uneasiness as she ran to greet them.

Her sister gave her a huge hug as David hauled Matt; barely awake, out of his car seat.. “Mommy?” the four-year-old mumbled sleepily.

Randi glanced at Jill, and her uneasiness grew. Matt hadn’t called her anything but “Mom” for ages. “Jill, what’s wrong? Why are you back so early?”

“We’ll explain in a minute, but Matt’s just been awfully tired this trip,” Jill said. “I guess Disney World finally wore him out.”

Randi took her son from David and drew him into her arms for a fierce hug. “Lord, I missed you,” she murmured into his tousled hair. She drew back a bit to examine him. “How’s my guy? Are you hungry?”

“Uh-uh,” Matt said around a huge yawn, “but I’m awful sleepy.” He leaned his head on her shoulder and closedhis eyes.

Frowning, Randi put a hand on his forehead, but he didn’t feel especially warm. She glanced at Jill, who looked as if she were about to say something, but David spoke first.

“Randi, we can’t stay long, and we think you and Matt should leave tonight.”

“Tonight?” Randi had been carrying Matt to his room, and she turned to look questioningly at David. “But why?”

“It’s the hurricane,” said Jill. “It’s only nearing Florida now, but—”

“Hurricane?”

“Where have you been?” David asked. “It’s on all the newscasts. Hurricane Alphonse. They’re saying it could be a bad one.”

Randi felt foolish. In her efforts to avoid Travis, she’d been out and about for days, and not once had she gone near a TV—the cottage didn’t come with one—or turned
on a radio. While in the Jeep, she’d operated only her CD player when she had a yen for music, and when she’d refumed each night, she’d gone straight to bed. “I hadn’t heard,” she murmured awkwardly.