Child Of The Night Page 11

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I can’t.” He gave her a wry smile. “Responsibility runs too deep, I guess. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t keep the family fortunes intact for Cassie. Lynette didn’t understand that I’d make any kind of personal sacrifice to protect my daughter….even from her mother.”

  Tyla waited, hoping he would continue, but he didn’t. He leaned back and said briskly, “What about you? Did you run away to Colorado?”

  “In a matter of speaking, I suppose I did,” she admitted. “And I’m glad I made the move…I needed a professional change.”

  “Did you leave any…family behind?”

  “No family,” she said. “Only a man I’d once planned to marry—” She broke off, astonished that she’d mentioned such a personal thing. She hadn’t told anyone in Denver about Dr. Ken Roderick. Their three-year affair had ended on such a dismal note that she had vowed not to waste one more minute of her life thinking about the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

  He watched the flash of pain cross her face. “Want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. But thanks anyway.” She pulled one leg up under herself in her favorite way of sitting on the footstool.’ “Tell me more about the real Clay Archer.” Were you terribly in love with Lynette Millard when you married her?

  “Where’s your notebook?”

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to take all of this down? Or is all of this strictly off-the-record?” There was a sharp edge to his teasing.

  “I thought we were sharing some personal things about ourselves.”

  “Is that what we were doing? You want to know all my deep, dark secrets, but when I showed interest in your private life, you told me there was nothing to talk about.”

  She flushed. “I find it difficult to talk about myself.”

  “So I’ve noticed. On the other hand, you expect me to bare all, and I suspect you’re filing away everything I say. Maybe that’s why I had the feeling that this little chitchat was turning into an interview of sorts.”

  “I assure you that I would have used a different technique if my intentions had been professional.” She stood up. “We both made a mistake, it seems. I had no hidden agenda, other than to get better acquainted. But you are quite right—once a therapist, always a therapist. I’m not willing to compromise my dedication to helping your daughter. She’s my client and I’m not about to forget that for one moment. My personal feelings are really of no consequence.”

  He left the couch and moved to her side. “Can’t we find some neutral ground? Shut out the rest of the world on some level? Pretend it doesn’t it exist? Give ourselves a chance to know each other?”

  “I’ve never been any good at pretense.” Her tone softened. “I’m sorry that you felt my questions were more clinical than personal. I must have been giving the wrong signals.”

  “Are you going to record in your little notebook the way your breath quickens and your heart races when I touch you like this?” he said as he let his hand slide with explosive warmth down her bare arm.

  She could have drawn back, she told herself later. Instead, she stood there, allowing his hands to slip around her waist until his fingers found the soft hollow of her back. “Don’t.” Her voice was a strained whisper.

  “Don’t what? Don’t kiss you like this?” His mouth descended on hers, and his kiss hotly fused the point of contact between them.

  No man had ever shut down the rational part of her brain before, numbing it with an overriding swell of pure feeling. Tyla had never been kissed in the way that he claimed the sweet opening of her mouth with his questing tongue. His hands slipped downward to cradle her thighs against his. Desire shot through her as she savored the hard strength of his virile body. Her breathing was shallow and rapid as his kisses grew deeper and more demanding.

  “If you want to stop,” he murmured in a hoarse voice, “tell me now…or it’ll be too late.”

  Too late. The words curled in her mind. Too late to remain detached. Too late for a clear head. She turned her warm, kiss-bruised mouth away from his, pressed her cheek against his for a long moment and then slowly drew back.

  Clay let her go and cursed himself for the fool that he was. Why in heaven’s name had he ruined everything? Offering her a chance to break the passionate tide sweeping them into sexual fulfillment was pure stupidity.

  “I’m sorry that happened,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “Don’t expect me to say I’m sorry.” He fought against the humiliation of having been rejected when his hormones were firing like booster rockets. He never expected her to pull away like that. She couldn’t have pretended the kind of fiery response that had flowed from her body into his. More and more he wondered if he had taken leave of his senses where this woman was concerned.

  “I think I’d better get on with my afternoon exercise.” She walked over to the door and held it open.

  Her pointed dismissal only added to his frustration. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to admit the truth.”

  She moistened her lips, still warm and pliable from his kisses. “Maybe…but not now.”

  “I don’t see the conflict,” he argued as they descended in the elevator. “We both want the best for Cassie. Why can’t we work together? Why should our feelings put us in a confrontational mode? I just don’t get it.”

  They walked out of the building before Tyla answered. She had no choice but to try to make him understand why she needed to keep herself detached from the wide, passionate hurricane raging between them. “I want to tell you what happened with Cassie in the playroom this week.”

  He stiffened as if something in her tone warned him that what she was going to say was not a routine report.

  “We have a dollhouse for children to play with…and a family of dolls. Cassie took the mother doll out of the dollhouse and buried it in the sandbox.”

  “I don’t think that’s too unexpected since she’s aware of her own mother’s grave.”

  “I know…but she also buried the man doll. And when the hour was over, she put the mother doll back in the house, but she left the father doll buried. She called it ‘Papa.’”

  “Papa?” Clay looked visibly ill. “Why…why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know, but I need time and unbiased evaluation if I’m going to be able to help your daughter…and you.”

  Chapter 11

  Tyla jogged two laps around the lake at a fast pace. Usually the vigorous exercise restored her sense of wellbeing, but as she rounded the park a second time, she admitted that physical exertion failed to settle the emotional upheaval left by Clay’s visit.

  Breathing heavily, she-sat down on a park bench and lifted her face to catch the last rays of a departing sun. Elongated shadows stretched under tall maple and oak trees, and a brisk breeze touched her face warmly. Her body was suffused with heat from her exertion, but suddenly she shivered. Her body went cold as an insidious draft brought an instant chill.

  Sunlight still touched her face. The temperature hadn’t changed. She knew then that the impression of penetrating cold wasn’t physical but mental. Stiffening, she straightened up, looking quickly about in every direction. Where was this cold assault coming from? No one in the immediate area seemed to be aware of her presence under the tree. Two in-line skaters went skimming by, an elderly woman walked an energetic poodle and several joggers raced by on a nearby path. She didn’t see anyone or anything that would be transmitting such an ominous chill.

  Was Clay somewhere close by? She’d experienced dark impressions previously when he was around, and both times she had been dismayed by the malevolent force of those telepathic thoughts. She’d left him standing in front of her apartment building, but he could have followed her to the park. Was he watching her from some concealed place and sending out the chilling vibrations? No, she wouldn’t believe it. When they were together, she had no threatening intuitive feelings. Far from it.
She felt safe and protected in his arms. She shivered again, wondering if her feelings for Clay Archer had blinded her to a dark personality that his daughter clearly recognized.

  She rose to her feet. With every sense tuned like a receiver, she slowly walked through the park. Everything seemed perfectly normal, but as she crossed the street to her building, she glimpsed a Buick coupe as it disappeared around the corner, a blond woman at the wheel. Doreen? She couldn’t be sure. But if the woman had been aware of Clay’s earlier visit, Doreen might have stayed around to send mental daggers in her direction. Very unlikely, she told herself.

  By the time she was safely back in her apartment, Tyla wondered if the whole incident had been just the result of overwrought nerves. Maybe she was coming down with something, and the chill had been a warning.

  She stripped off her clothes, and took a warm shower. Despite her intentions to dismiss the dark vibrations she’d felt in the park, her thoughts continued to circle back to them. Without much conviction, she told herself that she might have misinterpreted the psychic imprint. But there had been times when she’d tried to disregard ESP impressions only to have them verified later with indisputable accuracy. Still, it didn’t make sense for someone to be stalking her with such bad vibes. If Tyla were any judge of character, Doreen would vent her jealousy in a much more direct way.

  That evening Tyla went to the hospital to see Jimmy Myers. On the way she stopped at a convenience store and bought a cute stuffed dragon with a saucy smile and beady eyes that moved. The purple plush toy put a smile on his freckled face as Tyla handed it to him.

  “I thought you might like some company,” she told him.

  “Thank you, Dr. Tyla,” he said in a weak voice.

  Her eyes misted. They’d come a long way from the time when he would have snatched the toy and glared at her with fierce hostility. A few months more and he would have been out of therapy. She wondered how much this tragedy would set him back. A bed frame held the covers off his legs, and she mentally winced as she thought about the horrible burns he had suffered.

  “All the toys in the playroom are missing you. When you come back, we’ll have a little party,” she said brightly.

  His wan face brightened. “Chocolate ice cream?”

  “Chocolate it will be, Jimmy.” Noticing a couple of new books on the bedside table, she asked, “Would you like for me to read you a story while I’m here?”

  He nodded. During the months she’d worked with him, books had become an important part of his therapy. She smiled as she picked up a new book appropriately entitled There’s A Dragon In Our House. He hugged his new toy as she read the book. She was just finishing when Jimmy’s mother and grandmother came in.

  Obviously pleased that she had taken the time to come, they filled her in on Jimmy’s condition and she managed to hide her apprehension about the long and painful convalescence period that lay ahead.

  A few minutes later she left the hospital with a leadened heart. Even though she knew that professionally she should maintain some distance from her clients, she was guilty of investing something of herself in every boy and girl. When children left her care, she was gratified that they were emotionally strong enough to face life on their own, but her sense of satisfaction was always laced with a touch of sadness that she wouldn’t be a part of their lives anymore.

  Clay’s presence still lingered in her apartment, a poignant reminder of the explosive embrace that had sent her emotions reeling. What if he hadn’t drawn back? If he hadn’t slowed down the igniting passion between them, would she have given in? She pushed aside the rhetorical question. The answer didn’t please her as she remembered the soaring pleasure of his body against hers. Cool it, she told herself. Falling in love with Clay Archer was a complication she didn’t need.

  Tyla stopped in the middle of the floor, stunned. Falling in love? Where had that overworked sentimentality come from? She gave a short laugh at the absurdity. She was much too jaded and disillusioned for such romantic nonsense.

  She checked her answering machine. The red light was blinking. Clay? She quickly pushed the Message button.

  “It’s me, Rose. I don’t think Rubin will come ‘round anymore. I told the police everything. Signed all the papers, just like you said.” She paused. “Thank you, Dr. Tyla. And thanks to your man, too.” After another pause Rose added quickly before she hung up, “You’re a smart lady to let him put his shoes under your bed.”

  Tyla laughed, thinking, Not smart at all, Rose, but tempting nonetheless.

  The second message was from Barry. “Just thought you might like to go for a movie on the spur of the moment. Guess you’re already booked. See you tomorrow.”

  Staff meetings were held on Monday mornings. The medical director, Virginia Graham, a competent woman in her fifties, ran a tight, no-nonsense staff at the clinic. She asked for a quick assessment of current clients and noted that some of the paperwork was not being kept up-to-date. The usual gripes about inefficient office help and case overloads extended the meeting a half hour longer than necessary. Tyla said very little and was’usually the first one out of the door when the meeting adjourned.

  “Hey, wait up,” Barry said, catching up with her. “Did you get my message…about taking in a show last night? I called about five o’clock.”

  His prying, questioning tone irritated her. She didn’t want to be accountable to him or anyone else. “Yes, I was busy,” she said flatly.

  “Too bad.”

  She felt a little guilty about being so abrupt with him. Barry was the closest thing she had to a friend. For one reason or another, she’d distanced herself from all of the women on the staff, and from the men, too, letting her work fill her life. She didn’t want to be involved with anyone—and that included Clay Archer. Even when he wasn’t around, he had become a disruptive force in her life because she couldn’t quit thinking about him.

  That afternoon Harriet arrived at the clinic a half hour before Cassie’s session. Tyla was still in her office when the receptionist rang and informed Tyla of their arrival.

  “Please ask them to have a seat,” Tyla replied evenly.

  “Mrs. Millard would like to have a few minutes with you before Cassie’s session.”

  “I’m not sure that will be possible. Ask her to wait.”

  Damn, swore Tyla. The last time she’d seen Harriet, the woman had been standing at the foot of the stairs, looking like an armed frigate ready for battle. Clay had deftly avoided a confrontation, but it was unlikely that Harriet was going to be deprived of a comment on Doreen’s account of finding Tyla in Clay’s bedroom.

  For the first time Tyla wondered if Harriet had come to some understanding with Doreen about endorsing her designs on Clay. The woman might be amenable to Doreen taking her daughter’s place and was willing to support her in becoming the next Mrs. Archer if Doreen was receptive to letting the Millards live in the mansion the way Lynette had done.

  Tyla leaned back in her chair and tapped her pen thoughtfully. She had time for a spontaneous appointment with Harriet since there had been a cancellation, but she hesitated. In the first place, Tyla didn’t want Cassie exposed to any tirade of Harriet’s. Bringing the emotional conflicts of the family into the clinic setting could damage the child’s feeling of security about coming there. She didn’t want Cassie waiting in the reception room alone, nor did she want the child to be in the playroom alone or with anyone else. The bond that she was trying to build between them couldn’t be handed around.

  No, she wouldn’t be pressured into seeing Harriet on the spur of the moment, Tyla decided. The woman would have to make an appointment. Tyla had already decided that she wanted to go back to the Archer house for a visit with Mr. Millard. She wondered how she could arrange to see him alone. A telepathic communication with him might be possible if no one else was around to disturb the energy impulses.

  She glanced at her watch. She didn’t want Cassie waiting out in the reception area any longer than necessa
ry. As sensitive as she was, there was no telling what apprehension or confusion the little girl might pick up from some of the other clients. She decided that it would be better to take the child early.

  After taking a couple of minutes to freshen up, she left her office and walked briskly down the hall to the reception room. She was glad to see that Cassie had taken a seat at one of the children’s tables and was looking at a book. Harriet sat in a nearby chair and stood up immediately when she saw Tyla.

  Not giving the woman a chance to speak first and smiling at her as if Harriet had done her a great favor, Tyla said, “I’m glad you brought Cassie early. We haven’t had time to complete some of our initial evaluation. This will work out very well.”

  Harriet drew herself up to her full height. “We came early because I need to speak with you, Dr. Templeton. I must insist that you give me a few minutes.”

  Insist? Tyla inwardly fumed but she managed to keep her tone unruffled. “I’m sure a regular appointment would serve us both better, Mrs. Millard. Combining Cassie’s sessions with family consultations is not advisable. I’m sure you understand.”

  Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “Understand? Yes, indeed, I understand, Doctor. But I’m not sure that you do. I’m afraid we may have made a mistake engaging your services. We are looking into other facilities…”

  “We?”

  “The family.”

  Tyla kept steady eye contact with Harriet and waited. She wasn’t about to engage in any verbal jousting with Harriet Millard. This was not the time for a power play. She didn’t doubt for a minute that the woman would take Cassie back home at the slightest provocation.

  “We’ll consider the matter,” Harriet said in the tone of someone speaking to an inferior. “You’ll be informed of our decision.”

  The woman’s arrogance was beyond belief. If Cassie hadn’t been caught in the middle, Tyla would have met Harriet’s autocratic attitude with some well-placed barbs of her own, since her professional standing allowed her to turn away more clients than she accepted. The loser in a confrontation like this was Cassie. For her sake, Tyla held her temper.