Mind Games Read online

  “Eye candy for two.” He flexed his eyebrows up and down.

  She smiled at him and, with inviting eyes, grabbed his hand and led him into the living room.

  Chapter 3

  Loud growling woke her with a start. She opened her eyes, waiting for her sight to adjust to the black room. A guttural, low moan startled her. She gasped. A heavy arm had swung around her body, pinning her to the couch. Her heart pounded. Slowly regaining her mental faculties, she remembered inviting Derrick to watch a movie and…

  That was his arm around her body and his body making those loud sounds. They’d fallen asleep during the movie. She must’ve turned off the DVD player and TV in her sleep. She’d managed to put herself in an awkward predicament with Derrick. He would not be happy when he woke up and learned he’d missed his nightly rounds in the Mobile Health Clinic RV. He did say he was officially off rounds, though. She wasn’t about to rouse him from his deep slumber.

  She’d risk it and let him sleep. She slipped out from underneath his arm. The night had chilled the room. She ran her hands up and down her arms and then grabbed the blanket draped over the corner of the sofa and placed it over him. Derrick moaned. He stretched out his legs down the length of the sofa. His six-foot frame sprawled out. He tossed one arm above his head and pulled the pink blanket around his neck with the other.

  She crept into her studio, throwing a sheet over her latest project. For whatever reason, she was wide awake. She would have preferred to watch TV rather than read a book, but she didn’t want to take a chance and wake Derrick. Turning on her computer and surfing the net wasn’t appealing either. A cup of chamomile tea might make her drowsy. Rats. She couldn’t very well heat a kettle of water on the stove or a cup of water in the microwave without him hearing her. Not being able to sleep was the absolute worst. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but she was feeling jumpy about facing Derrick in the morning.

  From the snoring sounds coming through the wall, she wondered how long he might sleep. He’d surprised her earlier when he made the decision to take the night off. She worried about his reaction when he woke on her couch. He didn’t like to miss his rounds. He never missed a night serving kids from the Mobile Health Clinic RV. But he needed sleep. Or maybe he was making slight adjustments to spend more time with her? She shouldn’t second-guess his decision. He wasn’t Dana. He wouldn’t wake up and go into a rage because he didn’t go out in the Mobile Health Clinic RV.

  She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She’d try some relaxation exercises. She found her thickest yoga mat in the walk-in closet and rolled out the rubbery surface. Relaxing was difficult. Her mind drifted back to Derrick. Now she wished she’d stayed curled up next to him on the sofa. It could be days or even weeks before he spent the night again. She wanted to wake up next to him with his arm wrapped around her and gaze into his sleepy eyes in the morning.

  Sitting on top of the yoga mat and fantasizing about Derrick was not helping her sleep. She lay down on her back and got into the common corpse pose; she turned her legs in and out, let her arms relax with her palms up at forty-five-degree angles, and gently rolled her head from side to side and back to the center. Mentally, she scanned her body from head to toe, releasing the tension; she concentrated on her breathing, listening to the sound of each inhalation and exhalation, pausing after each exhale. She imagined herself melting into the floor. She focused on the color blue. The dark blue mat was her ocean. The buoyancy carried her away.

  * * *

  Derrick rolled over onto his side, pulling the soft, perfume-scented blanket with him. The damp, drafty room and gust of salt-tinged air snuffed out his perfume-laced dream. He opened his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room then glanced down at the pink blanket with smiling dolls, confirming he wasn’t in his own bed.

  He ran his tongue across his teeth, the thick taste of Chinese food evident along the recesses of his mouth. His neck had a kink in it and the rest of his achy body screamed he’d slept in the same position for hours. He rocked himself forward, swinging his legs around to a seated position. He pushed his hand through his hair and rubbed at his tired eyes. He’d slept longer than he’d anticipated.

  Way to go, Dr. Sloan. How’d you ever get through med school?

  Before he could berate himself any further, he realized two things. Sparrow was gone, and her front door was wide open. He tossed the blanket to the side and went to the front door, pushing it shut. The wind could have blown the unlocked door open. He walked to Sparrow’s room. His back and shoulders ached from sleeping on the couch. He couldn’t blame her for tiptoeing off to bed. He peeked inside. No Sparrow.

  Had she gone out for an early morning jog and not properly closed the front door?

  He looked at his watch again. It was nearly six o’clock. The sun gradually started to rise. Maybe she’d left him a note in the kitchen. He checked for one on the glossy marble-topped breakfast bar and then glanced over the kitchen countertops. Nothing. He rounded the corner of the breakfast bar, thinking she’d left a note on the dining room table. It was vacant. The wind could have caused the note to fall on the floor. He crouched down and looked under the table, forcing his hand under the raised claw-foot legs. His effort produced zero results. He was certain she wouldn’t have just left.

  Suddenly something about that door being open didn’t sit well with him.

  He searched for his shoes. When he found them, he plunged his feet inside and ran out the door. The cold air stung his lungs. He headed toward the beach, picking up his pace while his lungs and body adjusted to the damp, cool air. The muscles in his legs barely had time to warm up as he took off running toward the jogging paths, hoping to find Sparrow.

  After thirty minutes, he grew concerned. She couldn’t have been gone that long. He stopped at a fork on the jogging trail. Would she have continued on the pristine, even path or would she have run off toward the beach? He hadn’t searched the beach for her, so he decided to give that a shot. At least he could follow the shoreline back to her oceanfront home and head her off if she was making her way back.

  The muscles in his feet and legs screamed against the sand as he trudged along at a jog. The breeze coming off the ocean slapped him in the face, making it difficult to move swiftly. He pushed himself to run faster, harder, but his lungs trapped the salty and cold air. He thought every moisture-filled air sac would dry up until his lungs burst. Icy sweat trickled down his temples, running off at his chin.

  In the distance he saw a woman. He took off with the stride of a sixteen-year-old at full sprint. Sand filled his shoes. His heart thudded in his chest and ears, keeping time with the crashing ocean waves. He drew closer and recognized her ponytail blowing in the breeze and the gray sweats she’d been wearing. When he reached her, he couldn’t catch his breath or open his mouth to speak. His lungs tightened, and his heart raced against the abrupt stop. Every organ in his body strummed. He lowered his head and rested his hands on his knees. He hunched over and choked in the cool air, coughing and feeling foolish, but grateful Sparrow was safe.

  When she didn’t acknowledge him, concern washed over him. Why was she standing there staring out into the ocean? A cool breeze pelted his backside and whipped Sparrow head-on, making her clothes stick to the front of her body, and loose strands of hair fell around her heart-shaped face.

  “Sparrow?”

  Her red-rimmed green eyes remained distant and fixated on the ocean. He removed his hands from his knees and raised his head, gulping in a few more breaths, then moved directly into her line of vision. Tears streamed down her face.

  “My God, what’s wrong?”

  When she didn’t respond, he wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the blustery wind peeling off the ocean. She continued sobbing, her arms stiff at her sides. He took a step back and put her ice-cold hands in his. He searched her eyes for answers. From a medical standpoint, she appeared in shock.

  He squeezed her hands, fully covering them to warm her.
“What happened, Sparrow?”

  Her eyes rolled up to look at him. He released her hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She appeared confused, distraught, anguished. He grabbed her wrist and checked her pulse. The beats were slow. He needed to get her home. He estimated her house less than a mile away. If he hadn’t taken off so fast he might have seen her sooner, but his mind and feet had taken him directly to the jogging path in search of her.

  “Come on.”

  He pulled her away from the water with some difficulty. She craned her head to look back at the ocean and struggled against his arms. He didn’t know if he had the strength to do it, but with all he had, he picked her up and carried her. She curled against his body like a child, resting her head on his chest. She’d easily given up the fight, and no longer resisted him.

  She tilted her neck back and looked up at him. “I heard her calling my name.”

  “Who?”

  She squirmed and pointed over his shoulder.

  “The girl in the ocean. She’s dead.”

  Chapter 4

  The kettle whistled. Derrick poured her a steaming cup of herbal tea. Sparrow sat shivering with the pink blanket printed with dolls wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t suffer from hypothermia, but her physical and mental condition concerned him. She’d mumbled about the dead girl in the ocean until he got her home. A corpse hadn’t washed up on the shore, and Derrick didn’t see a body bobbing above the ocean’s surface.

  What had she seen?

  He knew better than to push the issue, since most of the kids he dealt with didn’t confide in him much, if at all. Pressing people to open up only made them shut down more. He’d do this on her terms.

  She was a kid when they first met, a young girl with puppy love in her eyes. He hadn’t thought twice about her. She was thirteen. He was sixteen. And, if his memory served him correctly, he and his friends were all about finding girls and getting laid. Unfortunately, his memory also served a mind-blowing reminder to his manhood that he’d been a virgin until he was eighteen. But now, she was a gorgeous, grown woman who was being tight-lipped about what she was doing outside in the wee hours of the morning. More concerning was what she thought she heard and claimed she saw.

  All he’d managed to get out of her was that she heard someone calling her name and she didn’t remember leaving the house. What she wasn’t saying to him was if she remembered telling him she had seen a dead girl in the ocean.

  He picked up her limp wrist from the table and checked her pulse again. The teacup had warmed her hands, and he suspected, by the color growing in her cheeks, that it had warmed her insides, too. He massaged her hand between his and pondered whether he should offer her a quick physical checkup. As a doctor he had an oath to uphold. He didn’t see offering her a clinical exam a conflict of interest. It was the least he could do for her. As for her mental state, his limited knowledge of psychology could do her more harm than good. He’d suggest she talk to her father about her memory lapse and the girl in the ocean, whom she had yet to speak a word of.

  “Sparrow, I’m really worried about you. Would you mind if I did routine checkup? I want to make sure you’re all right, physically.”

  When she didn’t object, he excused himself and went out to get his medical bag. Had she been attacked or worse? He’d need to check her for signs of a struggle, visible bruising or marks. If he suspected anything remotely suspicious, he’d take her to the ER pronto.

  * * *

  Sparrow’s head throbbed. The cold wind and rain had pelted her in the face, and her sinuses swelled from the residual effects. Pressure behind her eyes created sharp bursts of lightning, producing strange flashes. She stood to close the open blinds and a jackhammer started a slow, steady rhythm at the top of her skull. She reached for the marble countertop edge and steadied herself against the laser light show and resounding crescendo.

  She took a deep breath. Better let Derrick check her vitals, and then she hoped he’d be on his way. She wasn’t going to the hospital. She’d allow him this distraction rather than try to explain to him again that she had no recollection of going outside, leaving her front door wide open, and standing for God knows how long staring out at the ocean.

  Apparently, she’d told him she heard someone calling her name. That sounded plain crazy. The last thing she remembered was lying down in corpse pose and listening to the sound of her inhalations and exhalations. She had been picturing the color blue. A sharp pain shot through her head, different than the still-present jackhammer chiseling away at her skull. The disturbing pain had disrupted her thought process.

  She regained her balance and walked to the bathroom. A warm shower would help open up her nasal passages and possibly relax her enough to recall what happened last night. She tossed her hair up in a turban-style towel and stepped under the shower’s spray. The pulsating water eased her bunched muscles. She didn’t linger. She didn’t want to keep Derrick waiting. The hot shower and change of clothes renewed her self-confidence, and her nose worked better, too.

  Time for her checkup and interrogation. She took a deep breath then opened her mouth and released the gust of air. Would he ask her about the dead girl in the ocean?

  How’d I end up outside? Where’d she come from?

  She retraced her steps from last night. She had been lying on the floor in corpse pose and thinking about the color blue. Blue. She had focused on that color, imagining herself floating away on the ocean’s surface.

  That’s right. Think, Sparrow, think. Why did you go outside?

  “Sparrow, everything okay? I heard the water stop.” His voice broke through the closed door.

  She didn’t have time to piece together the mystery. “I’ll be right out.” She pressed her ear against the bathroom door and waited to hear his footsteps creaking across the floor. Her body flushed with heat. She dabbed her face with a damp washcloth and then applied a thin coat of tinted moisturizer, mascara, and lip gloss. The time needed to complete the mundane routine helped her mentally prep for the exam. She massaged a glob of orange-scented lotion between her palms, rubbed the excess against her thighs, and then turned the handle on the bathroom door.

  Derrick pulled the Velcro from the blood pressure cuff. Her nerves splintered and continued to shred at the other apparatus he fiddled with, placing his doctor’s tools on the dining room table. She swiped her forehead with her forearm and sucked in another deep breath. Going to the doctor was not her idea of a good time, even if it was Dr. Derrick Sloan.

  “How about you sit in this chair?” He slid the upholstered chair away from the dining room table. Steeling herself for the inevitable, she braced her hands against the arms of the chair and loudly inhaled then exhaled a deep, cleansing breath.

  “Sparrow, if you don’t want me to do this I won’t. But I’ll insist on taking you to the ER.”

  Hospital? What? No! No! No! She wouldn’t go to a hospital. Her dad had taken her to the hospital with him as part of a “take your kids to work” outing, and the sounds of sickness disturbed her to this day. She doubted her peers had the pleasure of being admitted for a full physical and psychological evaluation. Her heart thudded against her chest. She had to calm down before he insisted on taking her to the hospital. She inhaled and exhaled, focusing on her breathing. She didn’t make the humming sound she did when practicing yoga, but imagining it helped her relax.

  “I’m ready, doctor.”

  He wrapped the BP cuff around her narrow arm. The cuff inflated and deflated with a whoosh of air. “110 over 70. That’s great.” He peeled back the Velcro from the BP cuff and caressed her arm. “I’m sorry if that felt tight.” His serious doctor’s eyes softened. Desire clouded his professional concern.

  He brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and then stepped to the side of her and gently inserted a slender scope into her right ear and then her left. “Your ears are a little red. Let’s check your throat. Open wide for me.”

  Talk about emba
rrassing. She stretched her mouth open, and he pushed a tongue depressor against her tongue. “Say aaahhhhh.”

  The “aaahhhhh” sounded more like gagging coming from the base of her stomach.

  “A little red.” He cupped his hands over his mouth, warming them with his breath. She sank back against the chair. He placed his hands around her throat. His fingers gently pressed under her chin, behind her ears, and down her neck. His serious doctor’s face and professional attitude returned. That didn’t matter to her. His touch managed to arouse her feminine instincts.

  She shifted her eyes to a lock of sandy hair curling behind his ear. He usually wore his hair short, but he’d been working so much lately he hadn’t made time for a haircut. She didn’t mind his mussed longer hair and rugged, unshaven face. Sexy thoughts about him squashed her anxiety.

  “Your glands don’t feel swollen. That’s good. I’m not surprised about the ears and throat. The wind was really whipping up last night, and standing at the wet shore probably didn’t help.” He warmed the stethoscope between his pressed palms, waiting for her to respond.

  She nodded in agreement. He walked behind her and slid the stethoscope under her shirt, placing it on different areas of her back. He asked her to take some normal breaths, followed by deep breaths. “Your lungs are clear. But we might want to check them again if you experience any coughing or wheezing. Do you have asthma?”

  “No.” Her voice cracked on the short word. She could barely think with his hands roaming her back. His touch was not sexual or even sensual, but having his hands against her made her body react in ways it wouldn’t had she been on any other doctor’s routine visit.

  “That’s good. I see a lot of asthmatic patients in Southern Cal. Some have to retreat to the Sonora Desert for relief.” His tone sounded serious, but she couldn’t see the expression on his face because he was standing behind her. She assumed it’d match the concern in his voice.