Night Talk. Rebecca Daniels
her as she leaned back in her chair, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Some of the fury had disappeared from her face and it almost looked as though some of what he’d said had sunk in, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. He’d made that mistake before.
“He said you didn’t like talking about it,” he continued. “I just thought I’d mention it because…well, because I’ve listened to the program. I’m…well, I’m a fan.”
For a moment she did nothing. She just sat there staring at him, and he found that completely unnerving. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she slowly reached up and rubbed a hand across her forehead.
“Look, I’m…I’m the one who’s sorry. I…” She breathed out a heavy sigh and shook her head, her voice trailing off. “This is an area of my life I try very hard to keep private.” She rubbed her forehead again. “I have a counseling practice. My clients have no idea… I—I can’t allow what I do on the radio to interfere or inhibit my work with them.”
“You’re protective of them, I can certainly understand that,” he readily conceded. He rose to his feet. “And again, I’m very sorry to have upset you. Please don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
He turned around, weaving his way across the dance floor and headed for the door.
That definitely hadn’t gone at all how he’d expected. He wasn’t sure he’d even thought too much about what her reaction might be and maybe that had been his first mistake. He probably should have supposed she would be surprised, maybe even taken aback. He wouldn’t have even been surprised if she’d been somewhat flattered to discover he was a listener. But that violent burst of anger had been completely unexpected.
He pushed open the terrace doors and stepped out into the crisp, evening air. If he’d been a smoker, he definitely would have needed a cigarette. If he’d been a drinker, he would have headed straight for the bar. But as it was, he wasn’t either of those things. He was a mountain man and what he wanted was a little fresh air to help him regain his composure.
Drawing in a deep breath, he immediately coughed. He’d forgotten just what this city smelled like. The odor of smoke and automobile exhaust hung thick in the air. EPA regulations may have done a lot to improve the air quality in the Los Angeles basin, but it was still a far cry from fresh, especially compared to his mountaintop perch. Still, the urban landscape did have its advantages. There wasn’t much good you could say about smog, but it made for some spectacular sunsets.
He walked across the terrace, watching the play of color and shadow across the sky. Not much had changed in the three years he’d been away. Ted was still Ted and the friends he’d had before were still friends now. There were still the good feelings, the easy camaraderie, the comfortable interactions and he was relieved at that. But judging from the reaction he’d gotten from Jane…Kristin…
He shook his head. Whoever she was, judging from her reaction to him in the last twenty-four hours one thing was glaringly obvious. He had completely lost his touch with women.
He thought about her violent reaction—or rather over-reaction just now. Granted, it had been awkward for him, even embarrassing, but that really didn’t concern him. What he really found upsetting was his disappointment. She was Jane Streeter—his Dear Jane. She had been his sole companion every night for the last three years. But now, all that had changed. Dear Jane was no longer that smart, warm voice on the radio. She had a name and a face—a face that had looked at him as though he were the worst kind of monster.
He walked slowly to the terrace steps that led down to the parking lot. Dear Jane was gone and he was sure going to miss her.
Kristin stared at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman looking back at her. What was happening to her? Why was she letting this happen? How could she have let one innocent remark send her so completely out of control?
I know who you are.
She groaned, remembering how she had whirled around and all but accused him of threatening her safety. If she hadn’t behaved badly enough with her curt remarks and rude behavior, she was certain she had done more than enough this time.
She reached down and turned on the faucet, cupping her hands and letting the cold water fill the small reservoir they formed. He was Ted’s best friend. They had known each other since they were kids. He may have been a stranger when they met, but she could hardly qualify him as one now. So why couldn’t she just let all the fears and uneasiness go? Why couldn’t she just relax and forget about looking over her shoulder? Why couldn’t she stop making such a fool of herself in front of Jake Hayes?
“There you are,” Cindy said, pushing open the door of the ladies’ lounge and stepping inside. “I wondered where you disappeared to.”
“Just taking a little break from the party,” Kristin said, bending low and splashing the water against her cheeks.
Cindy regarded her for a moment. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” Kristin said, straightening up and pulling a paper towel free of the dispenser. “Everything about this day has been perfect.” She patted her face dry and turned to her sister. “Especially you. You look so beautiful.”
“Little sister,” Cindy said, placing a hand on each of Kristin’s shoulders. “Do you remember when you were a little girl and Mom could always tell when Bobbie Johnson had been teasing you at school? She was never wrong and she used to tell you she had physic powers, remember?” Cindy gave her shoulders a little shake. “She didn’t have physic powers, sweetie.”
“No?”
“No!”
“And the point of this story is…” Kristin let her words dangle expectantly.
“The point is that there are times, not always, but when you’re upset, a tiny line forms right there.” She reached up and gently traced a path along the bridge of Kristin’s nose. “Right smack-dab between your eyes.”
“There is not,” Kristin scoffed, pulling free and turning to her reflection again. “You’re making that up—” But her words were brought to an abrupt halt when she noticed the small crease along her forehead. “Wait a minute,” she muttered, moving her head from side to side. “That wasn’t there before.”
“Like I said, it’s not there all the time—just when you’re upset.”
Kristin’s gaze slid to Cindy’s reflection in the mirror. “Then how come I never noticed it before?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because the only time it’s there is when you’re upset, and then you’re too…upset to notice.”
Kristin leaned closer to the mirror, squinting as she examined the small line that creased her skin. “So what you’re telling me is I’ve pretty much been walking around all this time with a billboard on my forehead, is that it?”
“Not exactly a billboard.” Cindy smiled and took Kristin by the shoulders, steering her around until they were facing one another again. “Just a little clue to those of us who love you, a little hint to let us know something isn’t right.”
Kristin’s gaze narrowed. “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“But it does bring us back to my original question,” Cindy pointed out, the smile fading from her lips. “Something’s up, what is it?”
Kristin drew in a deep breath, turning away. “Other than me acting positively paranoid and making a complete ass out of myself?”
“Is that what you did?”
Kristin nodded. “Just now, with Jake.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Promise me once you and Ted settle down you’ll make sure to keep me off the guest list whenever he’s around. The guy has got to believe I’m a real nutcase.”
“A nutcase, huh?”