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.The baby inside Tasha was Rita’s.Rita Feather Hawkings’s.She could almost cry over the unfairness of it all.Rita needed that baby! Rafe’s baby.Rafe and Rita’s baby, not that pale little whore who—A man appeared inside the hospital, heading toward the glass front doors, saying something to the woman at the desk as he reached them.He hesitated and she must have pushed a button that electronically unlocked the doors because he strode outside and the receptionist pushed the button again, the doors sliding shut behind him, shivering a little when they reached their endpoint.Some kind of locking mechanism.Huh.The man was dark, somewhere in his forties, too old for Rita.He kept on striding to a black Lexus whose surface must’ve been waxed to a high gloss ’cause the rain just ran off it in sheets.He was a doctor, she realized, though she had no real way of knowing.Just a feeling.And he sure as hell thought he was hot shit.Somebody important? In the overhead light while he fired the engine she examined the back of his head.She liked his neck.Strong.Maybe he wasn’t too old…maybe…Switching on her ignition, Rita backed out of her spot slowly, waiting till the man in the Lexus was just a set of red taillights down the entry lane.She nosed along behind him, catching him turning east onto the county highway toward Salem and I-5.Probably lived in the valley.She hesitated.She should really turn right to the coast and her own bed.But he’d looked…important.Licking her lips, she turned east and followed after him through the drowned night, wipers slapping angrily at the rain, her agile mind working on scenarios.He was someone at Halo Valley.The girl at the desk had practically fallen all over herself trying to get that door open.She wasn’t surprised when he pulled into the club-type steakhouse, which was still about ten miles away from the interstate.A man like him wanted something good before he went home.A drink.A succulent piece of red meat.Maybe some company.Rita felt all her hormonal juices slip through her system.Didn’t happen that often with old guys, but once in a while one of ’em could warm her up to a simmer.Once in a great while she could even boil.The place was called Vandy’s and it let you know in scripted red neon along top its low-peaked shake roof.There was an assortment of pickups and trucks, some Ford and Chevy sedans, and a few expensive foreign cars, her guy’s Lexus, a couple of Mercedes, and a white convertible BMW getting pounded by rain that Rita bet was leaking in under its canvas roof.Rita parked her rusted bucket of bolts along one side, away from the front, away from the only light in the parking lot.Didn’t want her quarry to see her climbing out of such a sadly cared-for vehicle.She would have liked to have been driving in his polished black Lexus.Looked like a car for a money man.A doctor.She pulled a tube of frosted pink lipstick out of her purse and ran it over lips that felt fatter than normal, hotter.She was getting herself all pumpy.Could feel a wetness inside her.The Fertility Goddess sending her a message.Popping the trunk, Rita climbed outside, into the damned precipitation, and hurried to haul out a suitcase.Quickly, she threw it in the backseat, climbed in after it.Yanking out a black, clingy dress, she shook it free of wrinkles, then ripped off her teal scrubs and changed clothes.The shoes inside the case had four-inch heels.Hooker shoes, Delores would have railed had she seen them, but Rita took care not to have her mother, whose knees were bad and who didn’t move as well as she once had, find her outfits.She paused for a faint moment, thinking of Rafe, broken inside.For him, she’d given up her trolling.He’d been the one.She’d known they were meant for each other, meant to have babies together.But Rafe had died.His betrayal, his fascination with—Rita would not think of it as love—Tasha had killed him.Rita had not stabbed him.That wasn’t her.She would never do that.No, his evil whore had killed him.Or maybe Fate had stepped in.It had not been Rita Feather Hawkings.She loved him too much.Except her body was all loose and hot and willing now and she hurried through the rain, sidestepping puddles, balanced on her heels.She pushed through the doors and smelled the scent of broiled steaks and garlic and heard the sound of country western music, kept low except for some pulse-thumping bass.Stepping past the maitre d’s stand, she stood at the edge of the main dining area for a moment, taking in the red leather booths, most of them empty.Then she turned toward the bar, which was blocked by a wall of rough-hewn boards, and up two oak steps into a room with more booths tucked into the edges, a grouping of bistro tables on dark carpet ringing an oak dance floor where no one was currently dancing, and a long bar with glittering bottles under soft lights.Her quarry was seated in the center of the bar.A couple sat on one end, a group of three women on the other.Rita assessed the situation with a predator’s eye.She walked up to the seat next to him and brushed rain from her dress, catching the bartender’s eye.“Rum and Coke,” she told him, then adjusted the line of her dress, making sure her cleavage was at its soft, billowy best, before seating herself beside the dark-haired man.He was studiously ignoring her, his eyes trained on the bottles in front of him, his and her reflection glowing in the mirror opposite them.She slid a glance across to him, wondering if she could meet his gaze, but he was determined to pretend to ignore her.Because he was pretending.She could feel his attention even though he tried to disguise it.“Wet night,” she said to the bartender as he brought her drink.Rita smiled and drank lustily.Though she wasn’t fond of alcohol, men at bars were leery of women who completely abstained.“Really wet,” the bartender agreed, his gaze lingering on her cleavage.“Like a monsoon.”The man on the seat beside her was slowly turning his drink around and around on the bar with his right hand.Every so often he would lift it and take a gulp.Though he’d gotten inside the place about ten minutes before her, she suspected it was his second drink.He didn’t want to go home just yet.Perfect.Rita closed her eyes and started softly humming to the current song coming through the speakers, something by Garth Brooks, she thought.She slowly opened her eyes and caught him just turning aside.He’d been looking at her.“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?” she said.Now he gave her a full-on stare.“Do I know you?”“I’m a nurse at Ocean Park.But I’ve been to Halo Valley Security Hospital.That’s where you work, right?”“You’ve been to Halo Valley?”“Very nice facility.”“And you’re a nurse.”Rita Feather Hawkings was both slow and smart.Slow when it came to working in complex social situations—like dealing with women.Smart when it came to sex and men.“Yes,” she said.“I’m Rita.”“I’m Paolo.” He was reluctant to say it.Reluctant to give away his name [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]