Chapter 1

Derek

I’d been at Kelsey’s for four days when it hit me; but for the film that we were working on when we met, we’d never been together longer than ten days to two weeks at a time. Perhaps I could get her to go to Baja with me for the retakes, spend a bit more time with me this go, and see if we could get past her fear that more time together at a stretch would only end in a row. That would give us a month together, and to my way of thinking, should make or break us insofar as any potential for marriage was concerned. As usual, I just grabbed my balls in both hands, and went for it. We were having breakfast when I asked her.

“Come to Baja with me while I do the retakes.” Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth as she looked at me across the breakfast table.

”What?” I repeated it and just sat there sipping my tea as I watched her. Her eyes narrowed.

“What are you up to, Derek?”

“Well, you’ve always said that you didn’t think we could be together longer than two weeks without killing each other, so why don’t we find out? Come with me. If you get bored or pissed, you can always come home.” It seemed logical enough to me, but I could almost hear the gears clicking over in her head as she tossed that about.

“Derek, I love you and you know that. I also know that you love me, but we aren’t fucking in love with each other, and we both know that. If I come to Baja with you, sure as shit some reporter is going to see me, there’ll be photos splashed all over the front of every fucking tabloid known to man, and the privacy that’s let us keep our relationship stable all these years will be lost. Are you really willing to risk that? Are you willing to risk us having a God-awful fight and destroying what’s been the best relationship either of us – well, at least for me – has ever had just to try and prove your point? Because I’m not going to change my mind and marry you, if that’s where you’re headed, and I’m pretty sure it is.”

I grinned at her; obviously, I’m totally transparent where this woman is concerned. And yes, I was willing to risk it because I knew that even if what she feared did happen, we would still be friends. We’d both sulk for a bit and nurse our wounds, but the friendship we’d built all these years really was too deep and too important to both of us for something that juvenile to ruin it. I also knew that she knew that, but she just had to make her point.

“Yeah, I’m willing to risk it. How about you?” She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, looking out the kitchen window and to the winter-barren fields beyond. The emotional war that she was going through was so plain on her face that it was almost painful to watch. When she answered, I knew that I had her.

“Let me think about it.” I’d asked her to go with me before, and had always gotten a flat and instantaneous “NO!” The fact that I didn’t this time told me all I needed to hear. She’d be with me when I left for LA in six days. When she left after breakfast to go to the market, I called Thomas and told him to charter a plane for us, and to meet us at Dallas’ Love Field Airport on the day I was scheduled to leave. I figured there’d be less chance of us being spotted by the media at a smaller, commuter airport that at the huge airport that lay halfway between Dallas and Fort Worth. He was stunned.

“She’s really coming with you?”

“Well, she hasn’t actually said yes, but this time she didn’t give me a flat “NO” within two tics, and if she’s thinking about it, she’s going.”

“And what are you going to do when the first photos hit the front pages of the tabs and you two have the fight of the fucking century?”

“We’ll have the fight of the fucking century, and then makeup and just be best mates again.”

“You really think you can do that?”

“With Kelsey, yes …but probably not with any other woman on the planet.”

I got a long sigh from Thomas at that point. “Okay. I’ll book the plane. I hope to Hell you know what you’re doing here, Mate.”

“So do I, Thomas. So do I,” and I hung up.

Chapter 2

Kelsey

I must have lost my fucking mind, and not just for the obvious reason, but I agreed to go with him. I hate California – Baja included - even more than Derek does, if possible. I’d always called it the land of fruits, nuts, and tabloid bottom feeders. How in Hell he thought he could keep the media from spotting me was totally beyond my comprehension, but he seemed convinced that he could. He said he would up his security detail and Thomas would be with us 24/7, except for when we were in bed. We’d had a great ten days at my place, and now I was standing at the counter in my bathroom, shoving the last of my toiletries into my travel kit. My suitcase was packed and standing by the front door next to Derek’s. He was on the phone with Thomas who was waiting at the airport, the private jet fueled and ready to put wheels up as soon as we got there. We would take a cab into town, and I’d arranged with a long-time friend from out of town to stay in my house and move my car about periodically so that it would appear that I was home, in case anyone got curious. It helped that she bore a strong physical resemblance to me, our differences being noticeable only if you got within ten feet of us when we were together.

I stood at the mirror, looking at the image reflected there. I was in disguise, wearing a short black wig and a lot of make-up. I didn’t even recognize myself, and hoped I wouldn’t be spending the next two weeks wearing make-up constantly, as I hate make-up, and that fucking wig was already giving me a headache. It was tight because I had my mop of hair stuffed up under it, and when Derek came in to see if I was ready, I told him it was coming off as soon as we got on the plane. Of course, he laughed at me.

“As long as it’s back on before we land, Luv.” I scowled at him as he grabbed my kit; we gave my dogs a last pat, and were out the door. We made it to the airport and on to the plane with no apparent notice and I took a deep breath when the co-pilot closed and latched the door. I had the wig off in a heartbeat, shaking out my hair, and threw it at Derek as he and Thomas laughed.

“I must be out of my fucking mind for going along with this insane idea,” I muttered at them, for what was probably the tenth time. Derek sobered and his arm went around me and he pulled me close, nuzzling my hair with his lips.

“Yeah, we probably both are, Baby …but if we don’t give it a go, we’ll never know if we stand a chance of making it as anything other than mates, now will we?” Well, he had me there. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Derek, because I did, and I knew that he loved me. The biggest hurdle for me was that I didn’t want to be part of his lifestyle. I loved my job as a historical consultant in films, but hated many of the people I was forced to work with, and knew that there was no way in Heaven or on Earth that I could put up with having that sort around me on a daily basis. I’d often wondered how Derek survived it. I also knew that if I married him, he would expect me to travel with him, hence being around the collective assholes constantly, and I knew myself well enough to know I couldn’t tolerate that …not even for him, and I’d made that very clear before we left Dallas. I also wasn’t willing to give up my career, and I’d also made that very clear. He’d nodded and said he understood, but that he still wanted us to give it a try. After four days of his merciless nattering at me, I’d caved and said I’d try.

So there I was, on a plane heading for La-La Land, with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It seemed like no time at all before the pilot came back to tell us that we’d be landing in half an hour. I dragged myself to my feet, picked up the fucking wig, and headed for the bathroom to shove my hair back under it. I emerged ten minutes later, totally pissed off and daring either of them to laugh again. They sat there with totally straight faces, obviously preferring to live out their lives with their masculinity intact, and then told me the game plan, i.e., the cover story they’d contrived for who I was when Derek and I were spotted together – which, of course, we would be – and I listened. I had to give them credit; it just might work. For the sake of Derek’s and my friendship, I prayed it would.

Thomas was going to release a statement through Derek’s publicist that I was a family friend who just happened to be a specialist in stress reduction and management. The news of his having been in the hospital before leaving London for treatment of stress-related problems was now well known, along with the doctor’s recommendation that he put someone on his staff to help him deal with those issues until he returned home. His family had been notified and would validate the story. Thomas had cooked up bogus certificates for me from one of the universities in Australia, even to the planting of “transcripts” in the university’s computer files. Thomas gave me hard copies of them to plant in my suitcase in case any of the staff were bribed to rifle through my luggage while we were in Baja. I wondered whom they had bribed at the university in order to get its compliance, because they obviously had to have help in effecting that little conspiracy. I suspected a rather hefty endowment to the school had changed hands, as that was the only thing that made sense to me. I later learned that Derek had written them a check for AUD 25,000. Yep, that would certainly cover that little bit of chicanery.

And then they had a surprise for me. I’d thought we’d be staying in a hotel, which is what Derek generally did. Change of plans …while we were in the air, his agent in California had finalized details for a private villa inside a locked compound for us for the duration. It was leased under an assumed name, and the owners had no idea as to who their tenants for the next two weeks really were. Thomas had kept the hotel booking and one of Derek’s bodyguards who resembled him fairly well and his girlfriend – who had short black hair – would be staying there, along with a Thomas look-alike in a further effort to keep the press off our backs. Derek always erred on the side of caution where his privacy and security were concerned, and this time he’d shot the whole nine yards. I actually began to relax a bit, at least insofar as our being discovered was concerned. My main concern now was whether or not we could survive the coming two weeks with our friendship intact.

We landed at the small airport inside the compound where we would be staying, and were picked up in Derek’s usual choice of transportation …a black SUV with blacked out windows, and were safely ensconced in the villa within half an hour of arrival. I took a deep breath as I again pulled off that frigging wig, and sat on the bed in our bedroom looking at Derek who stood there – arms crossed over his chest - looking back at me.

“Satisfied?” he asked. I nodded, albeit reluctantly.

“For the moment. Let’s wait and see what tomorrow brings, and I’ll let you know for sure.” He nodded, as we heard the phone ring. Thomas walked in a few minutes later to tell us that Derek was expected at the studio by three that afternoon to go over the retakes that were to be done, and that shooting would begin at seven the next morning. It was almost noon, and Thomas said lunch would arrive by one. Derek looked at me and held out his hand.

“Up for a quick swim?” I nodded. The villa had an indoor heated pool just off the master bedroom suite, and we stripped off and headed for it. We swam nude …who was there to see us, after all? The only access to the pool was through the master suite and with the reflective windows that effectively blocked even the most curious photographer’s telephoto lens, neither of us was worried about anyone getting shots of us skinny-dipping. We actually did swim for about 15 minutes before I tired of doing laps to vent my frustration and swam to the side of the pool, leaning on the side of it, resting my head on my arms. A few seconds later, Derek swam up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist, and kissed the back of my neck. Small, sucking kisses from my hairline down to my shoulder, and I shuddered at the heat of his mouth. Bastard. He knew precisely what he was doing and the effect that it always had on me.

I turned in his arms and his mouth captured mine, his tongue invading possessively. Even if I hadn’t wanted to, there was no way I could have done anything but respond, and he knew it. That was one of the things that had kept us together. From the first time we’d made love, he’d always been able to read me perfectly. The man knew exactly what I liked, and when and how, and also when he could push it and get me to do things that I wouldn’t with another man. So far, there was nothing he’d asked of me that I hadn’t been willing to do with him, or that I hadn’t enjoyed as much as he had. Add that little knack of his for knowing me so well to the fact that his sexual expertise was unsurpassed in my personal experience and I was, quite literally, putty in the hands of an artist. Why would this time be different from all the others?

His hands went to my waist and he lifted me onto the side of the pool and gently spread my legs apart, smiling up at me. When his lips moved to my belly and down toward my sex, I knew I was lost and just gave over, tangling my hands in his wet hair as his lips and tongue sought and found my aching clitoris. I jerked when his tongue found me and moaned as he chuckled against me, his lips and tongue quickly taking me to the release I craved, and then buried his face in my belly and held me close as the aftershocks coursed through me. He slid me back into the water, and held me for a moment, his erection straining hard against me, before raising me slightly and entering me swiftly, groaning as my legs came up to wrap around his waist and pulled him more tightly into my body.

He had one arm tight around my waist and the other braced us against the side of the pool as he began thrusting hard into me. I reached my second orgasm and his came shortly after, thundering into me, as the heat of satiation flowed throughout my body. We stayed there for a few minutes, until he softened and slipped out of me; I felt the warmth of his semen trickle from me, surprisingly hot in contrast to the warm water of the pool. His head rested against my shoulder and he took a deep breath before he raised his head and looked deeply into my eyes.

“It’s never been any better than it is with you, Kelsey. You do believe that, don’t you, Luv? And you do know that I love you?” I nodded because I did know, and I felt the same way about him. I also knew how desperately he wanted to be in love, knew that he was so in love with the notion of being in love, that he would do anything, risk anything, to have that happen. I wondered idly if he had ever truly been in love, and doubted it. It’s difficult for a man like Derek to let go of the iron control he holds over himself, and that’s what has to happen when you’re really in love with someone. You have to give up that control, and doing that makes you vulnerable. Derek MacMurray hated being vulnerable more than any man I’d ever known. His need for true love was at constant war with his need to control, and the battleground was rarely neat and tidy.

The dawning of that insight was the moment I realized that regardless of how much either of us wanted this to work, that it wouldn’t. I wasn’t the woman who could give Derek the level of safety he needed to let go of that control, and I never would be. Whoever that woman was, he’d not yet met her and when he did, I hoped she’d understand enough to realize that no matter how in love he was with her, he would never accept an ultimatum of ending our relationship, though I realized that over time, it would die a natural death. I could bear ending our sexual relationship, though I’d miss it dreadfully. What I couldn’t bear would be to lose him as my dearest friend. And when he did find her, whomever she was, I prayed she wouldn’t ask that of him, of us, prayed that she would be secure enough in herself and Derek’s love for her that she could allow our friendship to continue.

I promised myself at that moment that I would give him – us – the best two weeks of our relationship to date. No arguments, no promises that I couldn’t keep, no matter how hard he pressed for them, and that I would return to Dallas at the end of the two weeks and he would go home to Australia, our friendship intact. I was also praying that someday soon, he would meet her - whoever and wherever she was - because he needed her far more than he needed us, far more than he’d ever needed me, regardless of what he thought now. What I didn’t realize was that the day when he would meet her was almost on top of us, and that she would be the last woman on the planet that he would have ever pictured himself falling hopelessly, helplessly, desperately in love with. Interestingly, when I met her, she was the one woman on the planet I’d have picked for him if I’d been asked to make that choice.

Chapter 3

Derek

Our two weeks were over and the retakes done before I even realized it and, of course, Kelsey was right. I was no closer to getting her to marry me than I’d ever been. We’d parted at the airport, she headed back to Dallas and me home to Oz for Christmas and New Year’s with my family. By some chance of fate, we’d not been outed the entire time we were together and I thanked Christ for that, for Kelsey’s sake more than my own. I’d be back in the States in March to start the promo tour for the film, and promised her I’d come to Dallas for a week with her before heading to LA to begin the promotional craziness. She’d nodded and I held her so tightly before I let her board the plane that it’s a miracle either of us could breathe. As I watched her disappear down the jet way, I’d had a sense of foreboding that for some reason, this trip had been the last of our carefree times together, that by the time I saw her again, things would have changed irrevocably for both of us. I could never have guessed just how right that premonition was.

I spent the holidays with my family, my Mum’s surgery and recovery having gone amazingly well. I left home for a short while in January, making a trip I’d never planned, but which was the result of a letter that had arrived just after Christmas. It was from two women who had bought tickets for the concert we’d had scheduled in Austin, Texas in January before I cancelled the tour. It was straight forward, and that was what got my attention. It seemed that they were two of a group of about 20 women who liked our music, and had become friends via the internet. They had planned to meet in Austin and get to know each other face-to-face, with the concert being the catalyst for their respective journeys. A number of them had bought plane tickets that were non-refundable (God, but I’d hated reading that bit) and the lot of them had decided that, concert or no concert, they were still going to meet in Austin and get to know each other. The concert would have been nice but even with it being cancelled, they wanted to meet and explore their friendships. They were arriving in Austin three days before the date that had been set for the concert and were having a dinner party the night before what would have been the concert date. Their letter invited me and the band to join them if we wanted, and it would suit our respective schedules. The letter ended by saying they in no way expected me or us to take them up on it, although they did want to extend the invitation. I was getting bored about that time and decided, totally spur of the moment, to go and just shock the shit out of them. The rest of the band declined, but Thomas and I boarded a plane four days before the date of their party, and headed for Texas. For some reason, it didn’t even occur to me to contact Kelsey while I was there …call that Fate or Karma or whatever, but something was working without my realizing it.

I’d loved Austin, Texas since my first visit there, and this was as good an excuse as any to go back for a few days. The women had told us which hotel they’d be staying in, and of course, I had the names of the two organisers, the ones who’d written me. They’d said they hadn’t told anyone else in their group that they had contacted us because they didn’t want to disappoint them when we didn’t appear, which I appreciated. I’ve disappointed enough people in my life and have no wish to up the tally. Thomas booked us into the hotel we usually stayed at when we were in Austin, and we arrived on the 18^th of January, checked in, and crashed for 12 hours before doing anything. He had nagged at me for a week before the trip, continued his bitching session the entire flight in, and hadn’t let up yet about how fucking stupid it was for me to do this. I finally told him to just shut the fuck up because I wasn’t interested in hearing it any longer.

The two who’d sent the letter had given me a physical description of themselves so that if I did decide to come, I’d at least be able to recognize “the ringleaders,” as they’d phrased it. One blonde, one redhead, the blonde 5’8” and 130 pounds, the redhead 5’11” and 175. They said they both had below-the-shoulder length hair and, as I’d decided to pop over to their hotel the night before their party and get acquainted, I had worked out my own little plan for sneaking up on their truly blind sides and checking them out before they realized I was in town. I left my hotel about five-thirty in the evening and cabbed it over to the hotel where they were staying. I strolled up to the desk and asked what room the blonde was in –I’ve always been more attracted to blondes and offer no apologies for that reality – and had my story ready when the desk clerk gave me the fisheye. Clearly, she didn’t know me from Adam, and that was a pleasant change.

“I’m her husband …she’s not expecting me but I thought perhaps you’d give me a key to her room so I can surprise her.” The clerk looked at me, and asked me if I’d care to describe Mrs. Dunbar – her name was Claire Dunbar – and I did. That seemed to alleviate her concerns, and she handed me the key card and told me which way to turn when I got off the lift on the third floor. Before I left the desk, I asked if there was a mini-bar in the room or, if not, was there a local bottle shop that would deliver to the room …and I actually remembered to say “liquor store,” rather than bottle shop, and was using a Texas accent. No mini-bar, but she gave me the phone number of a shop a couple of streets over, and said they delivered to the hotel on a routine basis. When I got to Claire’s room and inside, I called the bottle shop and ordered, telling them I’d pay cash when they delivered; no point in leaving a credit card trail, now was there? The deliveryman was there within half an hour. I asked them for a case of cold Shiner Bock, and a bottle each of Maker’s Mark Green (the best bourbon in the world, Mate, far better than Black Jack or Wild Turkey) and Glenlivet. Don’t know why I ordered scotch, other than the fact that I just had a feeling that she would be a scotch drinker. Turned out I was right …and Glenlivet was her favorite. Sometimes a bloke just gets lucky.

I made myself comfortable – presumptuous of me, I know, not to mention illegal – and propped myself up against the head of one of the two beds in the room and clicked on the telly. Nothing interesting there, so I wandered about the room, looking as I went. In the bathroom there was a hairbrush and blow-dryer, one pair of slippers and one bathrobe. Closet open and an empty suitcase on the luggage stand, which told me she’d unpacked and put her clothes in the bureau; I managed to resist the urge to check out the drawers. The open closet revealed a couple of blazers and two pair of slacks (size ten), three shirts (one of them a flannie, and I grinned at that), two pair of shoes, size eight narrow, and a battered pair of cowboy boots; that last discovery tugged at my heart more than just a bit. There was no sign of another occupant in the room, so clearly she was staying alone. I grinned again. Claire Dunbar traveled light from what I could see without being any more nosey than I had already; I’d dearly have loved to check out the bureau, but just couldn’t bring myself to be that intrusive, as I’d already passed my limit in that department. In truth, my primary motive in looking about was to assure myself that Claire Dunbar wasn’t a psychopath. Given that I’d not found a meat axe or any other implements of destruction, torture, or restraint anywhere, I decided that she probably wasn’t out to kill or kidnap me, thus I considered her safe …well, harmless at least. Now, did you buy that explanation? No, I thought not.

Truth be told, I was so fucking curious about this woman that it was damned near killing me. I was curious about both of them, the two that had put this meeting together, and had been ever since I’d received their card and letter. The card was truly lovely, one of encouragement during what was admittedly a pretty difficult time in my life. My Mum had undergone major surgery, I’d cancelled the tour in order to be at home with my family while she recovered as well as to deal with my own stress, the latter having reached the point at which I was damned near unable to function. However, I’d spent the last four weeks doing nothing more taxing than ride my horses and mend a few fences at the farm, and by the time I received their mutual missive, I was bored shitless. The timing of the letter and card’s arrival had been perfect; it gave me a reason to make a quick trip to the States. I’d be there, in and out, and back home within a week, ten days tops, and remain home until it was time to head to California and begin the promo tour for the film.

So there I was, lying on the spare bed in Claire Dunbar’s hotel room, sipping a beer and wondering how long before she’d return, and whether she’d call the police and have me arrested for unlawful entry. The desk clerk had said she’d been gone about an hour and I’d been in her room for 45 minutes when I heard voices in the corridor just outside the room, and sat up. There was a soft laugh, followed by “I’ll scream if I need you.” Then I heard her key card slide into the lock and the bolt click over. She walked in and dropped her bag on the bureau and turned to look at me. No fear at all in those huge eyes behind black, wire-framed glasses. The look she gave me was cool and appraising, and I realized that she didn’t seem all that surprised to see me there. She glanced round the room, then back at me.

“Well, well, well. Derek MacMurray …fancy that.” I stood and walked over to her, extending my hand, and she took it. I felt a slight shock when her fingers touched mine, a sort of tingle, and it wasn’t static electricity. She felt it, too; I could see her pupils widen slightly and read the reaction there in those huge, golden brown eyes. I knew I should say something, and hoped that whatever came out of my mouth didn’t make me sound like a complete fucking fool.

“You don’t seem too surprised to find me here.” Yeah, lame, and I knew it, but it was the best I could do just then.

She released my hand and looked at me. “I’m not. When the desk clerk told me my husband was waiting for me in my room, I asked her to describe him. Since the description wasn’t even close, and you’re the only other man with the least idea I’m here and her description did fit you, it wasn’t a difficult conclusion. I’m surprised you came. Why did you?”

I thought for a tic before answering. “I’m not entirely sure. I appreciated the card and your letter was unusual. I was intrigued, and gave in to my curiosity. I have a habit of doing that, yielding to my curiosity that is. Does that surprise you?” She shook her head.

“No, it doesn’t. In fact, I’d probably have predicted that you’d come, if I’d really thought about it.” We stood there, taking each other’s measure, not speaking for a bit. She crossed the room to where I’d put the liquor and poured herself a scotch (she’d smiled as she picked up the bottle of Glenlivet), added a couple of ice cubes, then went to the bathroom and added water to her glass before returning to where I stood. She leaned against the bureau and sipped, watching me all the while, as I continued watching her. In some ways, she put me in mind of Kelsey; she was that calm and collected, but the resemblance pretty much stopped there, aside from the tumble of blonde hair that fell over and below her shoulders. She had high cheekbones, but without the somewhat harsher planes in Kelsey’s face. She was tall and slender and at that moment wearing black stovepipe jeans, black suede boots, an emerald silk blouse, and a camel-coloured wool blazer …stunning. Minimal jewelry …small pearl earrings, a small, neat wristwatch – Patek Philippe, unless I missed my guess – and a wide gold wedding ring with a single central diamond that must have gone three carats. Overall, she was a picture of quiet, comfortable wealth. My eyes went back to her face to find a bemused smile as she watched me. As usual, I’d been caught in the act – I’ve never been good at the unobtrusive perve – and I felt sure the sudden surge of pure lust I felt was plain on my face, even though I did try and hide it.

“Do you approve?” she asked. Oh yes, I certainly did, and I knew damned well she knew it. Then I realized that while I’d been taking her inventory, she’d been taking mine, though she wasn’t done yet. I think that was the first time in my life I’d ever been so obviously looked at in the way that men look at women. Her eyes flicked from my face to my shoulders, down across my chest, then back to my face before moving further. A ghost of a smile moved across her face, and her eyes resumed their journey. As they moved down my body and stopped at my crotch, I felt suddenly embarrassed and had an almost overwhelming urge to cover myself with my hands, as if I were nude. I didn’t move, but I now knew how a woman must feel when a man takes that liberty with her – and we do it without ever thinking about it – and makes that casual appraisal of her body. Her eyes returned to my face, but there was no trace of amusement there now.

“I’m sorry; that was rude, and I shouldn’t have done it. You’ve come a very long way out of courtesy, to meet fewer than 30 people. You didn’t deserve being insulted.” Her voice was soft and low, and I knew she’d meant what she’d said. I walked across the room, stopping arm’s length from her before I spoke.

“No …I did deserve it. If a woman had looked at me like that 20 years ago, I’d probably be much more well behaved than I am. I’d never realized how it must make a woman feel. I can see why it would make you angry.” The look on her face made me stop talking and I stood there, just looking at her. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

“It doesn’t actually make me angry, though it did when I was younger. Now I find that it saddens me.” She took a sip of her drink and reached up to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek, just as my hand came up involuntarily to do the same. I stopped myself before I actually touched her, but it was definitely an effort. I motioned across the room to the sofa and chairs beside a coffee table.

“Why don’t we sit, rather than standing here?” She smiled and nodded, and walked across the room, sitting on the sofa. I sat across from her, my arms on my knees and leaned toward her. “You said that having a man look at you like that saddens you.” She nodded. “Why is that? I’d really like to know.” I was pretty damned sure I knew what she was going to say, and I was close.

“I dislike the objectification aspect of it …as if I were no more than a sexual being, an object to be used merely for gratification and devoid of my personhood and sentience. Even more than that, the behavior diminishes both parties, the man as well as the woman. It makes him seem mindless and driven by lust alone, and her an object to service that lust; it serves to increase the objectification of both.”

I looked at her and thought about what she’d said, realizing that was precisely what had made me so uncomfortable when she’d looked at me a few minutes earlier. It had made me feel like less than a man, less than a human, and more of an object to be accepted or rejected; it was not a good feeling. I leaned toward her; she was looking into her glass, and I reached across, placing my hand under her jaw and raising her face to mine, so that I could see her eyes. She didn’t shrink away from my touch; it was almost as if she’d anticipated it.

“I’m sorry, Claire. Could we start again, do you think?” She smiled and nodded.

“I’d like that,” and looked suddenly shy, somehow innocent.

“Derek MacMurray,” I said, and held out my hand.

“Claire Dunbar,” she replied, and slipped her hand in to mine. “It’s nice to meet you, Derek.” I held onto her hand, feeling that tingle again, and looked straight into her eyes.

“Believe me when I tell you this, Claire, meeting you is a pleasure worth the wait.” When I said that, I realized Kelsey was right …I wasn’t in love with her, with Kelsey, but I knew with absolute certainty that I might be in serious danger of falling in love with Claire Dunbar and had no notion as to how I suddenly knew that. I also had no fucking clue as to how I would handle being in love with a married woman a second time, but I had the feeling I might be about to find out.

Chapter 4

I spent the night with her. No, not in the way you think, because all we did was talk, the entire long night. I don’t think I’ve ever spent that long just talking with a woman, not even Kelsey in all the years we’ve known each other. Notice that I didn’t say all the years Kelsey and I had been together, because I’d never actually “been” with Kelsey in the way I was with Claire that night. It had been seven or so when she’d returned to her room, and we ordered in about ten, and kept talking as we ate. Thomas called sometime close to midnight, asking where the fuck I was and I told him, along with saying I’d be there for a while yet, and not to worry. If I - we - left the room, I’d call him.

“Have you totally lost your fucking mind, Derek?”

“No, Mate. I think I may have finally fucking found it,” rang off, and turned off my phone. If anyone needed me, they could go through Thomas; that’s what I paid him for, after all.

I can’t even recall all the things we talked about that night, but relationships did figure prominently among the topics. I told her that I didn’t think I’d ever really been in love in my life, even though I’d certainly loved several women a great deal. I also told her that a very good woman friend, even told her Kelsey’s name, had said that I wanted to be in love so much that I was in love with the notion of being in love. Claire nodded, and said she knew what I meant, how that felt.

“How do you know when you’re in love with a person, rather than being in love with the idea?” She took a deep breath and stood, making herself another drink before she answered me.

“When I married my husband, I was in love with the idea. It took me years to realize the difference …to finally realize that while I did love him, I wasn’t really in love with him, and never had been. While I do care deeply for him that magic, that feeling of not being able to breathe unless he’s there, has never really happened for me any more than it has you.” She looked at me hard then, and her next comment nailed both of us. “So, Derek, it appears that we’re both emotional virgins where being in love is concerned, doesn’t it? Just how bizarre is that?” All I could do was nod in the affirmative, because she was right.

About two in the morning, I noticed a stack of CDs sitting on the table beside her bed, and looked about the room. There was a portable CD player sitting on the floor beside the bureau; I walked over and picked up her CDs, flipping through them. She watched me as I did, and I discovered that her taste in music was as eclectic as my own. There was a bit of everything there …my band, Michael Bolton, Barry Manilow, Elton John, the Beatles “One,” film soundtracks, Mary Chapin-Carpenter. I pulled out Elton John’s Love Songs, and put it in the player and turned to look at Claire.

“That all right with you?” and she smiled and nodded. I crossed the room and took her hand, tugging her with me to her bed and lay down on it, pulling her down beside me and in for a cuddle. She wasn’t alarmed, no big look of surprise on her face; she took off her glasses and put them on the table and just lay down beside me and turned toward me, placing her head on my shoulder like we’d been doing that for years, and listened to the music. Somehow it just felt right, lying there with her cuddled up next to me. No big passionate snogging or groping session, just two friends enjoying being with each other. I think we were both asleep within ten minutes.

I awoke when the sun peeked through the drapes. Claire was no longer cuddled into my shoulder but had turned onto her side, and I was spooned up behind her, my arm round her waist and one leg thrown over hers. She was still asleep, breathing softly, her hair falling partly over her face. I eased away from her and propped up on my elbow and just lay there watching her, trying to sort out what I was feeling. Lust, yes, but not to the degree that I usually would when waking in that situation. Tenderness? Caring? Those emotions were a lot closer to the mark. I lay where I was and continued watching her. The night before I’d seen the tiny lines round her eyes, put there by the passage of time and, I suspected, no small degree of heartbreak; after all, we’ve all had our share of that, haven’t we? The skin of her face and neck was smooth, her neck long and slender, and I smiled, suspecting she was one of the few women I’d ever seen who could wear a turtle-necked jumper and not look like a turtle in it. I knew she was older than me, and idly wondered how much, and if she would tell me if I asked. From things she’d said, I guessed she was probably ten to 15 years my senior …not the oldest woman I’d ever been involved with, but age had never been a factor for me where women were concerned. I also knew I’d have the Devil’s own battle in convincing Claire of that when the subject arose, and I knew that it would.

I leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek, then got quietly off the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind myself. I had to piss like a racehorse, then washed my hands and threw water over my face and ran my damp hands through my hair. That would have to do unless the hotel provided amenities such as toothbrushes and combs; I opened the drawer under the counter top and found just what I was looking for. I cleaned my teeth, and pulled the comb through my hair; at least I no longer looked like an Aborigine, and felt better for both efforts. I opened the door and padded back to the bed, intending to cuddle up again and stopped when Claire rolled over and looked at me.

“Good morning,” she said softly, her voice hoarse from sleep, and just breathtakingly sexy. I held out my hand to her and she took it as I pulled her to her feet.

“I’ll call down for brekkie while you freshen up …you want coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please,” came the reply just before she closed the door. I sat on the side of the bed and heard water running as I dialed room service; by the time I’d hung up the phone, she was walking toward me. I stood and pulled her in for a hug. We stood there for a tic before she stepped back.

“Did I really just spend the night talking with the man half the women in the free world would give their right hand to have alone for half an hour?” I giggled; I couldn’t help myself, and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what we did, and I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I think I’ve found a new friend …and that’s not easy for me to do these days.” Her face went suddenly serious.

“It isn’t easy for me, either. I don’t trust people easily but you’re different, somehow. Not what I expected you to be like at all.” I knew precisely what she meant. I took her hand and led her to the little table by the window and sat, pulling her onto my lap.

“Breakfast is on the way; what’s on your agenda for today? Any possibility we could spend the day together?” Thomas was going to think I’d totally lost my mind, and perhaps I had. All I knew for sure was that I was relaxed and totally enjoying myself for the first time in what seemed like years. She looked at me, surprise on her face.

“You want to spend the day with me?”

“I think that would be nice, if I can talk you into it. I know you probably have things to do with your mates, but maybe you could spend a bit of the day with me?”

“Actually, the only thing I have planned is finishing up the details at the restaurant for the dinner tonight …Terri and I had planned to do that first thing this morning, and then we were planning a trip to San Antonio. She’s never been to Texas before and wanted to see the Alamo; I promised to take her. Do you want to go with us? I mean, if you aren’t afraid of being recognized, or of spending the day with two of your fans?”

I smiled and kissed her softly on the lips. “I’ll chance it, if Terri doesn’t mind. She’s your mate from last night, and the other one that sent me the letter, right?” She nodded. “Actually, in the morning’s light, I don’t think of you as a “fan” any longer. I think we became pretty good mates last night, don’t you?” She gave me this shy little smile.

“I suppose we did, strange as that sounds. Christ knows I could use a man as a friend just now, to help me get some perspective back in my life.” I got that one, too. During the night, I’d told her about my breakup with Denise and the relationship I’d had with Kelsey for the past eight years. In her turn, she’d told me about her marriage. Her husband was a criminal attorney and, because of his caseload, often worked 80 hours a week. He loved what he did and she didn’t begrudge him that, but it didn’t make for much of a marriage either; they rarely saw each other. She’d come to the conclusion that while she still cared deeply for him, she probably didn’t actually love him any longer, and that she’d never been really in love with him. We’d talked a lot about loving someone as opposed to being in love with them, and had pretty much come to the conclusion that to date, neither of us had been lucky enough to find the “in love” thing. I was beginning to think perhaps that could happen for me - with her - I’d not ventured that bit of information. Some things you just need not to talk about but let them burn inside of you and when you do, sometimes the energy required to bring them to fruition happens.

“All righty then, here’s the game plan, if it works for you. Let’s have our brekkie, and I’ll head back to my hotel and get showered and changed. You do the same and wake your mate. I’ll pick you both up …say about ten? We can swing by the restaurant and you and Terri can finish up there, and we’ll take off for the Alamo. Thomas will be coming with us, though. I’m not willing to get out in a public venue without having him along in case I need him. I think you’ll both like him; he’s a pretty easy-going bloke. Christ knows he’d have to be to put up with my shit for as many years as he has!”

“Works for me,” and she walked to the door that connected her room with Terri’s. “I’ll wake her so that she can get herself together and get breakfast …is it all right if I bring her in and introduce her before you leave for your hotel? I know her curiosity must be devouring her by now.” I nodded.

“No wurries. If she’s your mate, I think she’s probably trustworthy. After all, I am going to be spending the day with the two of you, now aren’t I?” She laughed, and I loved the sound of it. She had a low husky speaking voice, and the timbre was duplicated in her laughter. She tapped on the door and waited for Terri to answer. A couple of tics went by before the door opened. I’d retreated back to the window and was looking out when I heard the door open, followed by a sharp intake of breath and an Oh-Christ-he’s-still-here comment from Terri.

“Yes, he’s still here. We spent most of the night talking before falling asleep – fully clothed, so don’t let your imagination run amok – and just woke a bit ago. We’ve ordered breakfast. You want to come in and meet him before he leaves?” Apparently she said yes because a moment later, she walked into the room as I turned to look at her. She was several inches taller than Claire, hair about the same length, but red and curlier; it tumbled past her shoulders, and she was still wearing a nightshirt. Not bashful, that one, and I liked the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled.

“Derek MacMurray,” I said, extending my hand as I walked toward her.

“Terri MacAfee,” she replied. Another firm handshake, and then she laughed. “’S’cuse my lack of appropriate dress …I was just about to get into the shower when Claire knocked.”

“Not a problem. We’re about to have our brekkie, and I’ll be heading back to my hotel to shower and change, then back here to collect you two.” Her eyes widened at that. “Seems Thomas and I are accompanying you lot to the Alamo this morning.” Her eyes got even wider at that, and I grinned at her. “We haven’t seen it either, so I asked Claire if we could come along …she said yes. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Fuck no! That’s great …uh, Claire, can we all fit into your Jeep?” Claire smiled.

“No wurries. We’re going in the Expedition Derek has leased while he’s here …blacked out windows and less chance of him being noticed. His idea, but I wasn’t too difficult to convince.” She turned to me again, a question on her lips. “But what are you going to do about being recognized once we get there? I can’t imagine that no one there will snap as to who you are.”

I shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. I’ll keep my ball cap on and the brim pulled down …try and use a Texas accent and tell Thomas to keep his mouth shut altogether. Hope for the best. The good thing is that no one knows I’m in the States, much less in Texas, and if no one is expecting me to be here, perhaps no one will notice me. I’ve got lucky before this.”

“I hope so,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t like to see you get mobbed and that’s certainly a possibility.” There was a knock on the door, which could only mean breakfast had arrived and Claire went to the door and let the waiter inside. Terri waved and disappeared back in to her room and, over Claire’s protests, I paid the tab and shooed the waiter out and we sat down to our brekkie.

While eating we returned to our conversation of the night before, and I admitted that I didn‘t recall having talked so openly and comfortably to anyone aside from Thomas in at least ten years. I’d told Claire things that I hadn’t discussed even with my family or Kelsey, but felt totally comfortable in having done with her. Somehow, I knew that my confidence in her was well placed, as was hers in me. Although she hadn’t actually said it, I knew that she’d told me things that probably no one else in her life knew, and I wondered at the level of intimacy we’d achieved in so short a time. For whatever reason, we’d each struck some sort of chord in the other and for me, it had been an enormous relief to unburden my soul to someone who seemed truly non-judgmental. We finished our meal, and I stood. Time for me to go shower and change, get Thomas’ arse in gear, and get back to pick up Claire and Terri if we were going to get to San Antonio and see the Alamo and back to Austin in time for them to finish whatever last minute details were still outstanding before the dinner scheduled for that evening. Claire walked me to the door and I turned to her before opening it.

“I really enjoyed spending the night and talking with you, Claire …more I think than I’ve enjoyed anything in a very long time.” I took a deep breath then and just jumped right in. “I know that I have to go home in a couple of days as do you, but I’d like to see as much of you as possible between now and then …and I’d like us to stay in touch after we do go home. Do you think we could do that?” She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a stormy day.

“I’d like that a lot, Derek …and I’ll count on it.” She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek, then placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the door. “Now scoot; I’ll see you in an hour-and-a-half. If you’ll call from the car, Terri and I will come down rather then you having to run the gauntlet through the lobby.”

“I’ll do that,” and then without having even thought about it, I turned back to her and pulled her into my arms and kissed her, really kissed her, then walked out the door and closed it behind myself. The woman definitely knew how to kiss, hadn’t slapped me, and had returned my kiss with equal fervor. I was still breathing hard when I got off the lift in the lobby and headed for the door and the line of cabs out front. Got a couple of second glances but ignored them, found a cab and told the cabby which hotel I was staying at and settled in for the short ride, thinking hard all the way to my hotel.

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