Kat Martin - Season Of Strangers

A flush crept under his tan. Julie couldn’t believe it.

“Suffice it to say, I’m staying out of trouble. I’m getting myself in shape, just like the doctors said.”

She didn’t believe it, of course, or if by some miracle it was true, that it could possibly last. She studied him, struck by a sudden thought. “That wasn’t your car I saw in the parking lot this morning when I got in?”

“I came to work early. I had some business I needed to catch up on.”

Julie fell silent, for the first time allowing herself to really take a look at him. She had never seen Patrick in so few clothes, nothing but a pair of damp, clinging white shorts that hinted at the considerable bulge of his sex, a red tank top, socks, and running shoes. With every stride he made on the treadmill, long corded muscles bunched in his legs. His waist was lean, his shoulders very wide, more thickly muscled than she imagined, and the dark skin across them appeared surprisingly smooth. Curly black chest hair glistened with beads of perspiration above the scooped neck of his tank top.

“I hope you like what you see,” Patrick said softly, his blue eyes suddenly intense, and this time it was Julie’s turn to blush.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just that I-I…that seeing you here was so unexpected.”

“I’ll be through in a few more minutes. Why don’t you finish your workout, and afterward—how about lunch?”

Lunch with Patrick? “I-I’m meeting the Whitelaws, going over their escrow instructions.” Had she heard him right? Was he actually asking her out? He hadn’t done that in years.

“If you can’t go to lunch, what about dinner? We’ll go someplace quiet where we can talk.”

This was crazy. Patrick hated quiet restaurants. He wanted to be where the action was. The hottest see-and-be-seen he could possibly find.

“Talk about what?” she asked dumbly, sure she was missing something. “Is there a problem I don’t know about at work? Is one of my clients upset? The Rabinoff deal had a few shaky moments but I thought they were happy in the end.”

Patrick slowed down, finally stopped jogging altogether, and stepped off the machine. “Nothing’s wrong, Julie.” It was amazing how much taller he seemed when she was wearing flat-heeled shoes. He wiped the sweat from his face with a white cotton towel. “I just wanted some company. I thought you might want some, too.”

“I don’t believe this, Patrick.” Unconsciously, she took a step away. “We decided years ago we’d be far better off as friends. We both know what it is you expect from the women you take out. You also know that’s not what you’ll get from me. I think the best course is the one we’ve been on up till now.”

He studied her for long, quiet moments. She couldn’t ever remember him looking at her quite that way. “I’m asking as a friend, Julie. I don’t expect anything more.”

She felt foolish then. Of course it was friendship he expected. He had half a dozen beautiful women he could call on a moment’s notice. The only reason he had ever wanted her was because she had always said no.

And aside from an unwelcome physical attraction, she certainly didn’t want him.

On the other hand, after the scare he’d had, Patrick might need a friend very badly. Besides, it might be pleasant to spend the evening with a man for a change, instead of a client, Babs, or her sister.

“How about it?” he pressed.

Julie smiled. “I can’t go tonight, but tomorrow night would be fine. I’ve got appointments until eight. After that I’m all yours.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. Great. So shall I pick you up at your house or will you still be down at the office?”

“The office. I’ll be there all afternoon. Now I’ve got to run. I’ve missed fifteen minutes of class already. I’ll see you back at work.”

Patrick just nodded. He used the towel around his neck to wipe away more sweat as he watched her walk away.

Julie had the strangest feeling, one that had nagged her off and on since he got out of the hospital. Patrick seemed different lately, in at least a dozen ways. He even looked a little different, more mature somehow, more commanding. And his attitude toward her had somehow changed, though in exactly what way she couldn’t be sure. Perhaps the evening he planned would shed some light on the subject. If it did, maybe she would find some way to help him stay away from booze and drugs. If nothing else, she owed that much to Alex.

Julie decided firmly—she would help Patrick if she could.

Sitting behind the desk in her office, Julie hung up the phone with a shaky hand and slowly came to her feet. Brian Heraldson, Laura’s psychiatrist, had just called. He said he needed to see her. He said Laura had just left the office, having finished her second hypnosis session. He said it was important that he and Julie speak.

On the surface, that didn’t seem all that ominous. As Laura’s sister, she had offered to help in any way she could, knowing he might want input from the only immediate family Laura had left. Yet there was something in his voice, something urgent, perhaps even fearful, that turned Julie’s stomach upside down.

She pressed the intercom button, told Shirl she’d be out for a while, then left through the rear door leading out to the parking lot. Westwood wasn’t far. In minutes, she was standing in front of the receptionist’s desk, asking the pretty little brunette to tell the doctor she was there.

“He’ll be right with you, Ms. Ferris,” the young woman said, probably a UCLA student doing part-time work, since the campus was just blocks away. The same sort of work Julie had done.

She glanced around the office, liking the soft gray carpet, the muted tones, and the Impressionist paintings on the walls that made the room feel warm and not sterile.

“Hello, Julie.” Dr. Heraldson stood in the open doorway leading into his private suite of rooms. “Please come in.”

She smiled uncertainly as she moved past him, her heart beginning to throb inside her chest. “I came as quickly as I could. Laura’s all right, isn’t she? She was able to drive herself home?”

“Laura’s fine…at least on the surface.” He firmly closed the door. “I’ve asked you here in the hope that you might shed some light on a subject that has me somewhat concerned.” He indicated she should take a seat on the light-gray overstuffed sofa. “I want to play a tape for you. I don’t normally do this and certainly not without the patient’s permission. Laura has given her consent, and I’d like your opinion about what she has said on the tape.”

“Of course. I want to help Laura in any way I can.” She sat down on the couch while the doctor walked to the chair behind his desk. He was a good-looking man, she saw, with his thick brown, slightly too-long hair and neatly trimmed beard. She wondered that she hadn’t noticed that when she had first met him, the day Laura’s sessions had begun, or the second time she had stopped in.

“I’m not going to play it all. Some of it is extremely personal.” He stopped the tape, backed it up a little, ran it forward again, and then pushed the button. “This is the tape I made the first of the week, her first hypnosis session. Here’s the part I wanted you to hear.”

Julie sat unmoving as Laura described the first time she had been afraid. It was the day they had suntanned on the beach. At first it was the same as Julie remembered, then Laura’s story turned different. Laura said that after the beach, she had gone to the hospital, which of course wasn’t the least bit true. Julie’s skin began to crawl as her sister recounted her terrifying experience, describing in vivid detail the humiliating examination she had been subjected to, the way her body had been stripped, washed, and probed.