Chapter 17

Her words hit him like a sucker punch straight to the gut. “What happened to Trevor? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine.” Blinking away tears, she whispered, “It’s his mother. She died.”

Son of a bitch. This was going to be a blow to Trevor. A big time blow. Long ago Trevor had accepted that his family wanted nothing to do with him, but he had always hoped that one day his mother would change her mind.

Shelly rose to her feet, swaying slightly, favoring the leg that had been in the cast. He circled her with one arm, his hand on the small of her back for support, and guided her back to the terrace.

She stopped and gazed up at him, her face just inches from his. “We have to do something.”

He gently eased her down onto a chaise. “Let’s get some ice for your leg.”

“I’m fine, honest. It’s Trevor who needs help.”

Matt ran his fingers through his hair, wondering how he was going to break the news to his friend. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go back to the funeral with him.”

Tears welled up in Shelly’s eyes again. “It’s too late. The funeral was held more than a week ago.”

“What?” Matt sank down on the chaise near Shelly’s feet, facing her.

“Trevor’s mother had been diagnosed with terminal cancer several months ago—yet no one contacted Trevor.”

Knowing his mother had chosen not to call would cut out Trevor’s heart.

“Some older man phoned. He told me to tell Trevor. He said the family hadn’t wanted Trevor at the funeral. That’s why he waited until now to let Trevor know about her death.” Tears spiked her long lashes, and she shook her head. “How could they be so cruel?”

He’d never understood Trevor’s family. He shook his head, unable to offer any explanation.

“He spoke so fondly of his childhood. I know he loved his mother very much.” Shelly’s voice was low and charged with emotion. “It’ll upset him terribly to have missed the opportunity to say good-bye.”

“That man on the phone must have been Trevor’s old man. He’s a real bastard, trust me.”

“Why? Trevor is wonderful—the perfect son.”

Matt wasn’t sure Trevor would want him to discuss this. Since the night Matt had been called to the hospital and met Graham Adams for the first—and last—time, Trevor had never again mentioned his ordeal.

“Trevor’s father expected him to go into the Wall Street brokerage firm the family established at the turn of the century. Trevor was on track. Top grades at the best schools. There were other children, but Trevor was the shining star—”

“Until he announced he was gay.”

“Right His father was totally disgusted by the news,” he hedged, telling half the story.

Shelly’s gaze shifted to one side for a moment, then turned back to him. “There’s got to be more to it than that.”

Okay, Shelly was as perceptive as she was insightful. She recognized a half-truth when she heard one. She stared wordlessly at him, her blue eyes gently imploring him to tell her everything.

“I met Trevor at Yale and we became best friends. I never suspected he was gay. We were rooming together our junior year when Trevor became … different. Moody. Secretive. One day Trevor came to me and told me that he was gay.”

“I hope you were supportive,” she said as if she had her doubts.

“I was blown away, because we’d been so close and I never suspected. But it didn’t change the way I felt about Trevor.” He stared out at the horizon, where the cloudless blue sky blended with the sea. “I couldn’t love him more if he were my own brother.”

“Have you told him that?”

“I don’t have to say it. Trevor knows.”

“Does he?”

A suffocating sensation tightened his throat. “It’s not the kind of thing men talk about.”

“That’s the problem with guys. They don’t express themselves, so they never know what to say when it really counts.”

She had a point, and he couldn’t deny it He had no idea how in hell he was going to break the news of his mother’s death to Trevor.

“Go on,” she prodded. “Tell me the rest.”

“What makes you think there’s more?” A movement near the corner of his eye caught his attention. “Look at that guy, will you? He’s still shooting pictures. He’s scaring the kingfisher away from her nest.”

“The chicks will die if they’re in the sun too long,” Shelly said. “They need her to shade them.”

Matt stood up and strode to the edge of the terrace, where the dichondra began. He raised his arm and gave the dumb-ass on the Wave Runner the Italian salute. “Here’s a picture for you.”

The man gunned the engine and shot off across the water, a rooster tail of water streaming out from the rear. Matt returned to the chaise and sat down a little closer this time.

“You were telling me about Trevor.”

He began slowly, measuring his words. “Trevor had become involved with a man. He moved in with him, but pretended to be rooming with me to fool his family. For almost a year I rarely saw Trevor except when he came by for his mail.”

“How did you feel about it?”

She would ask that question. Holding raw emotion in check, he took a breath, then continued. “I hated the bastard. He’d stolen my best friend. But I was busy, so, life went on. In retrospect, I should have known something was wrong.”

“What?” she asked when he hesitated.

“I got a call in the middle of the night. Trevor was in the hospital.”

Shelly turned her head just slightly, and her eyelashes cast forlorn shadows across her cheek. He wondered if she’d already guessed.

“He’d been beaten up pretty badly.”

“His lover did it, didn’t he?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

“Battering is more common among gays than most people realize.”

“Why would Trevor stay in an abusive relationship?”

“He told me that he’d known for years he was gay and tried to deny it. Then he finally met someone he couldn’t live without. Trouble was, the guy was jealous and had a hair-trigger temper.” Even now Matt could feel his stomach clench the way it had back then. “I should have realized and done something. I’d noticed bruises. Once Trevor had a black eye.”

“I hope Trevor pressed charges.”

“Trevor’s parents arrived at the hospital the next morning. It wasn’t exactly the ideal way to find out your son prefers men. His father went ballistic.”

“Didn’t his mother—”

“She cried the entire time. They had to give her a sedative.” Matt lifted his shoulders high, exaggerating a shrug. “Trevor agreed not to press charges and create a scandal. The next week Trevor’s father disowned him, and his mother never spoke to him again.”

“Just like that?” she asked, and he nodded. “How unbelievably heartless.”

“It hit Trevor big-time. He was already down for the count, then his family deserted him.”

“The creep got away with it.” Her reproachful eyes bored into him.

He held up his hand, flexed his fingers, ignoring his skinned knuckles. “Not exactly. I paid him a little visit—just to teach him what it felt like to be a punching bag.”

“Really?” A thoughtful smile curved her lips. “Good for you.”

“It made me feel better, but a few punches didn’t help Trevor. The ordeal changed him. Outwardly, he’s perfect. Inside, he’s still hurting.”

“He needs to deal with his feelings.”

Matt nodded his agreement as they sat there in the shade. A minute passed, then another, the only sound the whir of Jet Skis on the water in the channel between the Keys and the wind rustling the palms. It was a comfortable silence. For the first time, the tension between them was gone.

She reached for his hand, and her soft fingers brushed his bruised, skinned knuckles. “What happened?”

“I looked up Simon Ambrose. Don’t worry about him. He’s decided that job opportunities will be better in Key Largo. His nursing license has been revoked.”

“You didn’t,” she said in a choked voice.

He laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a squeeze. “There’s nothing as satisfying as walloping someone who really deserves it. Trust me. It’s a guy thing.”

“Thank you. I—ah—don’t know what to say.”

He leaned forward, still holding her hand, and brushed his lips against hers. He knew he shouldn’t, but after that kiss last night, something inside him kept gnawing away at him, urging him to kiss her again.

Her lips parted and the velvet warmth of her mouth welcomed him. Excitement rippled through his body at the unexpected sweetness of her response. He thrust his tongue forward and found hers waiting.

Christ! This woman had his number. He was so damn confused that he didn’t know from minute to minute if he should strangle her or make love to her.

As he kissed her, Matt remembered how she’d looked earlier, emerging from the water like a siren from the sea. Just watching the water purling down her body had made heat rise in dangerous places.

Right now, his gut instinct told him not to put his arms around her, not to crave the lush softness of those breasts, not to run his hands over her silky skin.

He released her hand and pulled her into his arms, deepening the kiss. Her pebble-hard nipples pressed against him, the wet fabric of her suit dampening his shirt.

Who in hell listened to gut instincts anyway?

He kissed her, holding her close, yet giving himself enough room to work one hand between them. As he captured one breast in the palm of his hand, her body went rigid. She pulled her lips away from his.

“Matt!”

“That’s the first time since the accident that you’ve used my name.” His mouth was a fraction of an inch from hers. He cradled her breast in his hand, gently squeezing, testing its soft fullness while he caressed her nipple with his thumb. “I like Matt better than Jensen. When you say Jensen, it reminds me of a drill sergeant.”

She might have giggled. He wasn’t sure about the strange sound. Her lower lip was trembling now, and her eyes were wide with shock.

Or something.

He was too aroused to hold the thought. Instead, he bent down and took the nipple into his mouth. The bikini was slick and wet beneath his tongue, the nipple marble-hard. He suckled her, drawing the nub into his mouth.

Her startled little cry of pleasure made him smile inwardly. This was a numbers game. She had his number. He had hers.

Her nails sank into his shoulders as his tongue roved over the tightly spiraled nipple, urging him on. Not that he needed any encouragement. He was a man, right?

He nudged aside the damp fabric and coaxed her bare breast into his mouth. She made a soft, throaty sound that shot right through him. The iron heat of his sex jammed against his fly. Man, oh, man, what she could do to him without half trying.

She broke away, breathing hard. “Matt, Matt, don’t you think we should …”

He could think of several things they should do right now. All of them in the horizontal.

She fumbled with her bikini top to cover herself. “Trevor … we’ve got to let him know what happened.”

He threw his head back and took a big gulp of air. Who said women were the weaker sex? He had but one thing on his mind, but somehow she’d managed to keep focused.

“You’re right,” he said, although he dreaded breaking the news.

“I have an idea how to help Trevor get through this.”

“Shelly, I know you mean well, but Trevor will want to be alone.”

“He needs his friends. He was there for us. We need to be there for him. I’ll round up Bubbles, Zeke and Zoe, then I’ll find Clive.”

“Clive? Not a good idea. Trevor hasn’t had a relationship since Yale. Sure, he goes out, but it’s just one-night-stands. He wouldn’t want Clive involved in anything this personal.”

“I believe you’re wrong. Clive and Trevor are perfect for each other. Now, here’s the plan.”

Honest to God, how could he say no to her?