Dead Man's Bluff (4 page)

“Don’t
look!” she cried laying a wash cloth over her breast and bending her legs.

Here
it was… the ultimate embarrassment. Megan had met Conner at the hospital. Yes,
it was unprofessional for a doctor to flirt with a patient, but she’d not been
his patient. They’d bumped into each other by accident in the hallway, and after
that he’d pursued her relentlessly during one of the most challenging,
emotional times of her life. He was an extremely attractive guy and eventually he’d
worn her down with exceptional kindness that to be honest, she needed at the
time. They’d started dating.

Their
relationship was odd. He’d insisted on helping out, and had convinced her to
stay in one of his guest bedrooms, so at night, when she became violently sick
from the chemo he’d be nearby to bring her what she needed: most of the time
what she needed came in the form of a pill and a glass of ginger ale to wash it
down. They didn’t have sex. He’d never even pushed the issue of sleeping in the
same bed as her. Sometimes she wondered if he was just one of those guys who
searched for some weak female who desperately needed him, and maybe her
sickness helped validate his self-worth in some way. She tried not to over
analyze it, why he would want to be with a sick girl. She also tried to keep
embarrassing moments such as these down to a minimum. Most of the time Megan
stayed close to home and her mother was the one who cared for her, but everyone
needed a break now and then. So, occasionally, Conner would get his way,
especially when he was still wearing his scrubs from hospital, short sleeves
tight around his muscled biceps, combined with his dimples, made him damn near
impossible to turn down.   

He
kept his aqua-blue colored eyes focused up on the ceiling as he ran a large
hand over his recently buzzed blonde hair. With his hair cut short like that he
resembled a stealthy marine, instead of a respected surgeon. He had beautiful
olive skin, only now his cheeks had a tint of scarlet in them. “Um, Meg, how am
I supposed to help you if I’m not allowed to look at you?”

“I
don’t know,” she breathed out in a rush, “I told you not to come in here!”

He
stood there for a couple of minutes, before he disobeyed her by shifting his gaze
down to where she lay in the tub. His assessment was quick and his eyes held
nothing but pity and concern, and it made her heart ache.

“Meg,
I’m a doctor and also a man… I’ve seen naked women before.”

“Not
me you haven’t,” she murmured clenching her bent legs together and folding her
arms over her chest. Her hair was similar to his… nothing but stubby new growth;
on him it was attractive, on her, not so much. Sometimes she wondered if he’d
buzzed his hair short for her sake, to make her feel better. Her ribcage and
pelvis bone were sharp and protruding, clearly noticeable with all the weight
she’d lost in such a short time. She never thought she could feel so
unattractive and exposed.

He
kneeled beside the tub. “Well, we’re going to have to get you out of there
eventually, sweetheart.” He reached for the stopper jammed in the drain,
submerging his arm to the elbow. “Shit, this water is freezing, Meg! Why didn’t
you call me sooner… Are you trying to come down with pneumonia?” Concern marred
his expression. He always was a doctor first, then her boyfriend.

Water
swirled, a whirling cyclone, being sucked down the drain. Conner reached for
the folded towel lying on the floor and as soon as the water was all out of the
tub he draped it around Megan’s shivering body the whole time respecting her
wishes by keeping his eyes on her face instead of her body. He smiled revealing
to sexy dimples etched around his sensual lips. “Here, let me help you sit up
and we’ll dry you off.”

She
obeyed without any further fussing, because honestly she was at his mercy.
Hugging her knees to her, her spine rounded, she sat in the empty tub, while
her boyfriend dried her off like a toddler.

“I’m
sorry,” she whispered.

“For
what?”

“For
thinking I had the strength to take a hot bath. For ruining your evening. Your
life. For being more than you bargained for.”

He
lifted her chin with a strong finger forcing her to raise her lashes to stare
up into his handsome face. Sometimes his eyes were so blue, the intensity of
them caused her to hold her breath.

His
voice cracked with emotion, “Listen, I want you here. I-I love you.”

Her
stomach dropped. He’d never said he loved her before. His cheeks spiked with
color as if it’d slipped out and before she could say anything in return he was
gently lifting her out of the tub, cradling her to his chest. “Come on, let’s
go get you all tucked in the warm bed… you’ll feel better in the morning.”

As
he settled her on top of the mattress she felt like she needed to say something,
anything to break the awkward vibe between them.

“Conner…”

“Shh,
rest! We’ll talk about it in the morning.” He leaned in firmly pressing his
lips to her forehead and her eyes fluttered closed, when her eyes opened again
it was no longer Conner’s face she saw… it was Drew Mackenzie’s.

For
an instant she felt as if she was free-falling out of an air plane, tumbling
and spiraling down, until her body jerked, jolting her out of a deep sleep. She
sat up, her gaze skidding over the bedroom now bare of her things. After
tonight, this was officially no longer her primary residence. She was an adult,
starting a new life in a new home, her home, a home she’d most likely raise her
children in with her husband. Her life was neatly mapped out, perfectly planned
down to her bridal registry. She liked the certainty of it in a life that had
become too chaotic.

Conner
was her safe bet.

But
things,
or people
, have a way of popping up when you least expect it.
Her mother had reminded her of another embarrassing, heart wrenching, and
exposed moment in her life… the day Drew Mackenzie rejected her. It had felt very
much like lying in that damn tub… naked and exposed, the hurt eating away at
her.
♠

Six

Drew
shifted; he adjusted the hold he had on his father as he fumbled to slip the
right key in the lock. He pushed against the apartment door and they both
nearly fell inside.

“I
can fucking walk if you’d only let me.” Jonathan Mackenzie spit, an arm slung
around his son’s neck, the other hand lifted a cigarette. It took several attempts
for him to actually find his mouth. He took a long, slow drag exhaling the
stench of nicotine and booze into Drew’s face.

It
was in that moment, as his nose scrunched and his stomach turned, Drew decided
he never wanted to smoke another cigarette in his life. Drew returned, “Yeah,
well, I’m not too fond of the ER on a Friday night and that’s where we ended up
last time I let your drunk ass walk by yourself. Fifteen stitches above the
brow, remember that?”

“I
remember you falling on your ass a few times myself, son. Don’t fool yourself
into thinking you’re any different than me.”

Drew
directed the stumbling fool toward the bedroom where he could sleep it off.

His
father complained, “I just wish Bobby would have minded his own damn business
for once and not called you to come pick me up. I had a pretty little red head
more than willing to make my night an eventful one. ”

Bobby
was the bartender down at Walker’s, a hole-in-wall pub downtown where the
scummiest people Drew had ever met drank their sorrows away. The older his
father become, the less he cared who he kept company with or maybe he was
running out of people willing to put up with his shit.

By
the looks of the apartment his father had been on one of his drinking binges
for days: ashtrays full of snubbed out butts, liquor bottles and beer cans
sitting everywhere, fly infested Chinese takeout stinking up the place and
pallets thrown down in the center of the den where, most likely, his father had
entertained a couple of sluts while watching porn. On the end table by the
couch was a dusty mirror and a straw.

After
Drew moved out of the ranch he had chosen to rent a place of his own for this
very reason. He had no intentions of ever living with his father again. The
scene was all too familiar and even as he felt his chest tighten and the urge
to outrun the claustrophobic feeling he had every time he stepped into the
apartment, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. No. Tonight he’d be
babysitting his father and pulling clean up duty.
Something
he
was
good at.

They
passed through to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Mackenzie trailed his
hands along the wall to keep the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against his
son from bumping into the wall. “I bet that old man you thought more of than
your own damn father got plastered a time or two. All that facial hair and that
ridiculous drawn up hand made him look like a penniless wine-o.”  Drew tensed
knowing his father was referring to Tink. “Am I wrong?”

“Shut
the hell up.” Drew growled. He felt guilty about being so disrespectful to his
father, but to gain respect you have to give it, and his father didn’t
understand the meaning of the word respect.

His
father’s angry words blew hot breath in his direction, “See, you’re always
jumping to defend those damn people. Why the hell did you ever leave the ranch if
it was so fucking wonderful?”

Good
question.

Deep
laughter rumbled low in Mackenzie’s chest. “Oh, I forgot…it was the girl.”

Drew
walked his father over to the mattress and turned him, lowering him down easily.
The mattress sank under Mackenzie’s weight as he plopped the rest of the way
down none to gracefully. He sat on the edge of the bed, swaying, his eyelids
heavy. Partying was taking its toll on the once handsome business man. His
angled jawline showed signs of gray stubble and he had lost a considerable
amount of weight. Bitterness was sucking the life out of his father, eating
away at his soul.  

His
father slurred, “You think I don’t get it, but I do. Good pussy makes a man do
crazy irrational things. Your mother could never do any wrong in my eyes, I
believed that woman could walk on water and then I caught her fucking another
man.” Mackenzie’s head fell forward and within minutes bobbed back up as he
nodded in and out of consciousness. “Well, FUCK HER!  And fuck your little
slut’s mother too! Stratford was my business partner and friend until he stole
her right from under my nose.” He pumped both his fist high in the air, his
movement lethargic. “History repeats its damn self. Don’t ever trust a female,
son. They will grab you by the nuts and bring you to your knees.” His head fell
forward again.

Drew
knew this was the closest he was ever going to get to the truth. His father had
been drunk more times than he could count, but whatever guilt was pecking away
at him right now was making him more prone to hand over details he’d held so
tight no one could get at them.

Drew
grabbed a hand full of his father’s dark hair and lifted his head, forcing
their gazes to meet and hold. For years he had wanted to ask this question. He
choked out, “Why didn’t my mother take me with her?”

Rich,
deep laughter rumbled low in Mackenzie’s chest. “Abandonment. Possession of
controlled substances. Mental illness. A history of sexual abuse. My lawyer had
a fucking field day ripping that bitches’ creditability to shreds. When he was
finished no one in their right mind would let her within more than a hundred
yards of you. A restraining order is a powerful thing, son.”

Drew
released the hold he had on his father’s head allowing his head to sag. And
then Jonathan Mackenzie vomited in his own lap. The puke was a combination of liquor
and chili. Drew sighed, pushed his father on over on the mattress and went to
get a bowl of warm water and a rag. He deposited the bowl by the bed and watched
the man tossing angrily in the bed, a glimpse of his future. “I pray to God you’re
wrong…I hope I’m nothing like you,” he acknowledged and was about to remove his
father’s vomit soaked shirt when it all came to a head.