Chapter 10

The timeless tryst of sugar-fine sand and moonlit water was more beautiful than she had ever imagined. Tranquil. Eternal. It made her problems seem small, insignificant. The retreating tide lapped at her toes as she stood leaning on her cane and gazing across the waterway at the lights of Key West. Fearful of the gentle surf, Jiggs waited at a safe distance.

“What’s Matthew Jensen doing here?” she whispered to herself. “He didn’t seem to realize I’m not Shelly. Did we look enough alike that he thinks cosmetic surgery accounts for the changes?”

The soft night closed in around her without bringing an answer. The only response was the sound of rock and roll drifting over the water from Key West’s rowdy Duval Street, and it was almost lost in the night air.

The light-headed sensation had diminished—a little—but she still had to take a sustaining breath each time she thought about meeting Matt’s eyes. Granted, he possessed a virility that she didn’t quite know how to deal with, but there was so much … more to Matt.

He’d appeared in her dreams with an intensity that was haunting, bewildering. She knew better than to indulge in fantasies about him, but he invaded her thoughts with disturbing frequency. It wasn’t a good sign, considering her need to concentrate on getting well and coming up with a plan for dealing with Dexxter Foxx.

Yet each time she’d gazed into the mirror, she wished she could see Matt again. What would he think of her now? she had often wondered.

Of course, he didn’t know what she looked like before, so it was a ridiculous thought. Yet she couldn’t help herself. She was positive that Matt wouldn’t have been like most men. He would have met the gaze of a disfigured woman head-on.

He would not have thought her attractive. Now surgery had radically improved her looks. She was pretty, like her mother, but she was still unaccustomed to her new face. She’d been out of the clinic three days and living in a paradise called Half Moon Bay. Each night she’d awakened, sweating and trembling with dread from a dream she couldn’t quite remember.

Was she still The Beast?

She would rush into the bathroom and flick on the light to check her new face. The horrid birthmark was truly gone. Yet The Beast would always be with her, trapped somewhere inside her head.

Tonight when she’d turned and had seen Matt she couldn’t help noticing the slight narrowing of his eyes as he gazed at her. For one heart-stopping moment she thought the game was over, but he didn’t walk up and accuse her of impersonating Shelly the way she’d expected.

According to the journal she’d read, their affair had lasted over a year, enough time for Shelly to fall hopelessly in love with the man. Her behavior was unforgivable, but on some level she understood. Matthew was the type of man who would break a woman’s heart, driving her into a deep depression, or worse.

They had known each other intimately. Any little thing, something so insignificant she might not realize it, could expose her. If her face hadn’t given her away, it would only be a matter of time before something did.

She had to leave. Tomorrow she must strike out on her own—despite her injuries.

“Shelly … Shelly.” The name floated toward her on the breeze, so softly spoken that she might have imagined it except the sound came again, louder and closer this time. “Shelly.”

Jiggs trotted up to her for protection as she turned around. Matthew Jensen emerged from the shadows of the terrace. Her body stiffened and she tried not to lean so heavily on the metal cane.

Had he called the police and told them she was an impostor?

She marshaled her thoughts as he approached. Barefoot, wearing khaki shorts and polo shirt open at the neck, he was bigger than she’d remembered, more powerfully built. He was taller than average, but not exceptionally so. It was something about the way he carried himself that made him seem taller, powerful.

Intimidating.

He stopped in front of her, towering over her and gazing at her with such intensity that she had to force herself to look him in the eye and try to appear calm. The pit of her stomach churned as she prayed he believed she was the new Rochelle Ralston. A cosmetic surgeon’s miracle.

He analyzed every inch of her face with incisive blue eyes like shards of ice. Then his gaze scorched a trail across her bare shoulders, down to her breasts, then roved lower and lower until he reached her sandals. He inspected her body with the thoroughness of a man who had undressed more than his fair share of women. No doubt he was mentally picturing her stark naked.

It took all her self-control not to gasp. Men rarely looked at her, and certainly not like this. A rush of heat flooded the good side of her face, while the other side with the bioengineered skin felt chilled.

She told herself to be flattered, to be thrilled a man was looking at her in an unmistakably sexual way. To him she was not The Beast. On one level she was excited, yet there was something insulting and degrading about the way he was scrutinizing every inch of her body.

This was not the way she remembered Matt. This was not the way she’d expected him to behave. Perhaps he was suspicious and was checking to see if she was Rochelle Ralston.

The sensual line of his mouth tilted upward as he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips across her cheek, tracing the curve of her face. Her heart hammered foolishly while her mind scrambled any coherent thought she might have had.

If Shelly and Matt were still in love—the way the journal had described them—he might try to kiss her … or something. Then what would she do? She had absolutely no sexual experience. She’d never trick him into believing—

“You’re one hot number now, aren’t you, Shelly?”

Sarcasm underscored each word, leaving her trembling inwardly. Hot number? No one had ever said such a thing. Deal with it, she mentally told herself. Be thankful he believes you’re Shelly.

“What do you mean?” she heard herself ask in an unsteady voice.

His fingertips touched the fine wisps of hair at her temples, then sifted through the scraggly hair she’d been unable to properly brush. It was an alarmingly intimate gesture, a shattering reminder that no man had ever touched her like this. While the real Shelly would have known how to handle it, she was completely out of her league.

“Not only did you have the doctor repair the damage, you had him fix your nose and raise your cheekbones so you’d be drop-dead gorgeous.”

Drop-dead gorgeous? His description should have thrilled her, but the words had such an offensive edge that it was all she could do not to tell him off.

“I didn’t know until after the surgery that Clive had worked on my nose. I certainly didn’t ask him to do it.”

She’d managed to keep her rising anger out of her voice, but just barely. Granted, Matt had good reason to be upset with Shelly, yet she resented his attitude. Why didn’t he just leave her alone? That’s what he said he was going to do.

His fingers were still in her hair, and one brushed her earlobe. Her body quivered and she had to lean heavily against the cane to steady herself. He didn’t seem to notice the devastating effect he had on her.

He pulled his hand away, saying, “Are you going to tell me silicone boobs were the doctor’s idea?”

Her lips parted and she almost said her breasts were real, but stopped herself in time. He was the type of man who noticed women’s breasts and could tell a bra size at a glance. Apparently, Shelly had a smaller chest. Denying she’d had breast implants would only give her away.

He took her silence for an affirmative answer. One brow angled upward, giving him an even more cynical expression than usual. Anger ticked away inside her like a time bomb.

“You’re prancing around without a bra, jiggling. Your hair looks like you’ve just gotten out of bed. There won’t be a man in Key West who won’t want to hop in the sack with you.”

Only a lifetime of controlling her emotional reaction to people’s insults kept her silent. She glared at him and held up her right hand. It was a complex cast, each finger encased in plaster that covered her entire hand up to the wrist.

“It’s hard to dress yourself properly or comb your hair when your right hand is useless. The last thing I want to do is attract men. I’ve got problems enough.”

That got him. It was probably easier to back down a pit bull than get the best of Matthew Jensen, but she could see that she’d scored a small point.

“What about your voice?” he asked, a little of the edge gone from his tone. “Why are you deliberately trying to sound sexy?”

“My jaw was broken in two places, remember? It had to be wired shut. I can open my jaw only so far. I couldn’t scream if my life depended upon it.”

“I see.”

She knew he couldn’t possibly understand. Having Dexxter after her and not being able to scream terrified her. What would she do if Dexxter found her?

He seemed to hesitate before adding, “Trevor’s the kind of person who tries to take care of everyone. Don’t take advantage of him.”

“Don’t worry. I’m leaving on the commuter boat’s last run,” she informed him, knowing she had to get away from Matt tonight, before he realized she was an impostor. “I’d never hurt Trevor. He takes care of everyone. Stray cats, lost souls, you name it. But who’s going to take care of Trevor?”

She nudged Jiggs with her cane, and the little dog hopped up. With as much dignity as she could manage, considering her halting gait, she moved around Matt.

“What in hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you seriously believe Trevor is happy?”

Shelly was halfway to the house, hobbling on her cane like an old lady, before Matt admitted to himself that the impossible had just occurred. Wacky Rochelle Ralston knew his best friend better than he did. Trevor had filled his life with all sorts of projects, from the cats he rescued, to the people he helped, to the homes he lovingly restored.

Trevor worked constantly, but did he have a life? No, of course not. Trevor wasn’t happy, and Matt should have realized it before now.

“Thank God you had the sense not to unload on Trevor,” he muttered to himself. “He has his own problems. He doesn’t need to take on your troubles. Just handle it yourself.”

When he’d come back to the house from walking on the beach with Trevor, the party had been over. He’d spotted Shelly down by the water and couldn’t resist talking to her. He’d expected to prove to Trevor that she hadn’t changed, but she’d outmaneuvered him.

Her ordeal had made her smarter. Different.

Just seeing her up close, her mane of blond hair tumbling wildly over her bare shoulders, and his pulse had skyrocketed. He’d wanted to throttle her for what she’d done to Emily, but instead he’d touched her face.

Caressed it, actually.

He hadn’t stopped there, had he? Something had compelled him to stroke her hair. It was fine, far silkier than he’d remembered, but then, he’d never been tempted to touch Shelly’s hair—until then.

God help him, he’d gazed into those sexy blue eyes and had been unable to resist touching her soft cheek. Man, oh, man, what had gotten into him? He’d saved himself by lashing out at her, trying to bait her into a fight.

If it had been anyone else but Shelly, he would have had her on her back in a minute. He knew how to handle women. He would have her writhing under him right now, his mouth tasting those pouty lips, his hands squeezing those lush breasts.

He dug his toe into the sand, trying to think with his head not his cock. “You want her. Admit it.” His body already knew the truth. “What in hell have you got to lose? Not a damn thing. Your friggin’ life is already a hopeless mess.”

He sprinted across the beach and caught her just as she was entering the foyer. “Shelly, look …”

The way she gazed up at him, her head angled to one side, struck him as being shy, the way it had when he’d first seen her tonight. Or maybe she was sensitive about the side of her face that had needed reconstruction.

Anger shimmered in her eyes, making them even sexier. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you ever again. I’m leaving.”

Her sincere tone made something in his chest tighten. What kind of a jackass let a woman who could barely get around leave in the dead of night? He’d meant to protect Trevor from a nutcase, but now he realized he’d gone too far.

“If you’re grateful to Trevor, you’ll help him.”

She gazed at him, baffled. “How can I help Trevor?”

He wasn’t sure how anyone could help Trevor, but he was fairly certain he knew what the problem was. He couldn’t discuss the situation with anyone without violating Trevor’s trust.

“It’s important for Trevor to see you’re well before you leave.”

Shelly blinked hard, lashes lowering quickly, shadowing her eyes. “I can’t stay.”

“Why not? Are you still so hot for my bod that you can’t resist me?”

“Don’t worry about me bothering you,” she shot back, her eyes blazing. “For Trevor, I’ll stay a few days, but I’m not going to have a thing to do with you.”