It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(45)

“That’s good. You’re putting up a good fight, sweetheart. You’re making me work for it.”

She bucked in his arms and tried to scream beneath his palm, but he held her fast. She could dimly make out a round wooden structure ahead, and as he dragged her closer, she saw that it was a gazebo.

“I’m going to give it to you good,” he whispered. “Just the way you like it. Give you that hurt you want so bad.” He hauled her up the steps through an arched opening in the ivy-covered latticed walls. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

“You’re going to be helpless. I can do anything to you I want and you won’t be able to stop me.”

He dragged her into the darkness, and terror clawed at her the same way it had in that hot, dark pool shed so long ago. Keeping one hand clamped over her mouth, he shoved the other under her skirt and reached for the waistband of her panties.

“First I’m gonna rip these off.”

The awful sounds coming from deep in her throat were garbled from the pressure of his palm. She hadn’t wanted this. Please, God, don’t let this happen to her again. Once again, she heard that horrible whisper at her ear.

“Maybe I should start here instead. Is that what you want me to do?”

He released her mouth and grabbed the bodice of her dress in his fist. With one hard jerk, he ripped.

Two things happened simultaneously. A violent scream erupted from her lips. And the hand cupping her breast froze.

“Val?”

He groped her breast. His entire body stiffened. And then he jumped away from her as if she were radioactive.

She began to sob. The amber glow from a yellow bug light mounted on a post suddenly flooded the interior of the small gazebo, illuminating outdoor furniture, a sisal rug, and the fact that he was staring at her in horror.

“Phoebe! Jesus . . . Jesus, Phoebe, I’m sorry, I— I didn’t know it was you. I— Val was supposed to . . .”

Her teeth were chattering and her whole body had begun to shake. Where he had ripped her dress, the bodice gaped, revealing one of her breasts. She clawed at the material, while she backed away, tears running down her cheeks.

“Phoebe . . .” He rushed toward her.

She leapt back, frantically clutching her torn dress. “Don’t touch me!” she sobbed.

He froze and backed away, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. I can explain. It’s all a mistake. I didn’t know it was you. I—I thought you were my ex-wife. She was meeting me here.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, and her chest spasmed as she tried to swallow her sobs.

He took another step, and once again she backed away. He immediately stopped moving. “You don’t understand.”

“You bastard! You perverted bastard!”

“Dan!”

Phoebe froze as she heard the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Dan! Where are you?”

Relief washed through her as she realized they were no longer alone. Then she saw the expression of entreaty in his eyes and watched as he pressed one finger to his lips, commanding her silence.

“Here!” she shouted. “In here!”

He dipped his head. “Shit.”

“Dan?” A slim, attractive woman wearing a simple floral cotton dress stepped into the gazebo. “I heard a—”

She broke off as she saw Phoebe. Her gaze flew to Dan. “What’s going on?”

“What we have here,” he said unhappily, “is a case of mistaken identity.”

The woman took in Phoebe’s torn dress and mussed hair. Her eyes widened in consternation. “Oh, God.”

As Phoebe’s terror began to ease, she realized something was happening here that she didn’t understand.

“It was dark,” he told the woman, “and I thought she was you.”

The woman pressed her fingertips to one temple. “Is she discreet?”

“Discreet, hell! She’s scared to death! Can’t you see what I’ve done to her?”

The woman’s voice grew so cool and businesslike that Phoebe immediately hated her. “Who is she?”

“Phoebe Somerville,” he replied, apparently realizing that Phoebe was in no condition to answer for herself.

“The Stars’ owner?”

“One and the same.” He turned back to Phoebe and, speaking softly, said, “This is Valerie Calebow, Phoebe. My ex-wife. She’s also a member of the United States Congress, but, despite that, you can trust her. Valerie is going to explain to you that I wasn’t trying to hurt you, and she’s going to tell you exactly what you walked into.”

Valerie’s forehead puckered in dismay. “Dan, I can hardly—”

“Do it!” he snapped, his expression murderous. “She’s not in any state to listen to me right now.”

She picked her words carefully, her expression stiff. “Miss Somerville, although Dan I are divorced, we have chosen to continue an intimate relationship. We are both rather adventurous lovers, and—”

“Speak for yourself, Val. I’d have been happy with a double bed and some Johnny Mathis tapes.”

“Are you blaming me for what happened?”

“No,” he sighed. “It was my fault. You both have light hair, and you’re about the same height. It was dark.”