“That isn’t it.” Winter worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She was reluctant to tell him about the panic attacks. He didn’t need to know that much about her, or how she was coming to depend on him as an anchor in the turbulence of her crazy world. He would interpret it as an emotional dependence. It was, but not in the way that he would see it. But she couldn’t fully explain herself to him without saying something about her daughter, and that she would not do. Yet she had to say something plausible, something that he would accept. She finally made up her mind to be as honest with him as she could. She lifted her gaze to meet his dark-browed, frowning expression. “When you called today, I was under a lot of stress. Getting together with you, being with you, helped me.”
Michael looked down at her rather blankly. Then he laughed, the deep sound rumbling in his chest under her fingers. The flash of his grin transformed his expression. Humor glinted in his ice-blue eyes. “Are you trying to tell me that you want to use me for stress management?”
“Something like that,” she said, allowing an answering smile to flicker across her lips. She wondered how he felt about her admission. It wasn’t exactly a compliment to him and might actually be a blow to his ego. She studied his face, seeing only amusement in his expression. His eyes gave no clue to what he might be thinking.
So that’s what was behind her frantic passion. His back still burned where her nails had broken the skin. Michael felt a sudden fierce satisfaction. She was more strongly invested in the continuance of their relationship. There would be no more attempts to break it off. She needed him for sexual release. He had taught her what he could do for her. From now on, she would willingly reach out for him and draw him down into her arms. He had finally seduced her. She was finally his.
“All right, Winter. If that’s what you want.”
Chapter Twelve
Cathy’s original intention had been to keep Winter’s life totally separate from her own. There was the separate bank account that held Winter’s wages. There was the cell phone that only one person would call. Her dresser and her closet were divided, one side holding her own clothing and on the opposite side what she thought of as Winter’s clothing and accessories. It was schizophrenic, but it worked for her.
However, by degrees, there was an inevitable intermingling. When she didn’t get all of her laundry done, she grabbed a bra from the stash that belonged to her Winter-persona. A necklace and the matching chandelier earrings looked good with one of her suits. A purse, a bangle, a change of eye or lip color. The physical boundaries between her life and Winter’s were gradually beginning to blur. And though she did notice, with some irritation, that her wardrobe was absorbing some of Winter’s stuff, it did not occur to her that there was also a slow merging of her real self with the woman that had been created by a personal ad.
On the day that her sister was due to fly in, she pulled on a pair of Winter’s tight black jeans and topped it with her own heather-green sleeveless knit top. The chandelier earrings went into her ears and a pair of stylish heeled sandals on her feet. Then she ran out to her car, her leather purse swinging jauntily from her shoulder.
At the airport terminal, Cathy grabbed her sister in a tight hug. Her throat constricted with emotion. “Pam! Oh, it’s so good to see you!”
Her sister’s arms around her were equally as tight. “You, too, Cathy.” She stepped back, and her blue eyes intently searched Cathy’s face. “How is Chloe?”
Cathy shook her head, the earrings swinging back and forth. She made herself smile. “She’s holding her own for now.”
Her sister’s eyes briefly squeezed shut. “I’m sorry, Cathy.”
“Yes.” There wasn’t any need for long explanations. Pam knew her too well. She would read between the lines.