Because Of The Ring. Stella Bagwell

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Because Of The Ring - Stella  Bagwell

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week later Claudia smiled happily at Liz. “I’m fixed! I’m cured. No more visions.”

      “I wondered why you sounded so chipper when you picked up the phone this morning. And I didn’t have to do much begging to get you to come over for a swim.”

      The two women had already made a few laps around the in-ground pool in Liz’s backyard. They were now stretched out in lounge chairs and sipping iced lemonade.

      “You can’t imagine what a relief it is to know you’re not losing your sanity, Liz. I wasn’t relishing the idea of getting on a psychiatrist’s couch.”

      “So what happened?” Liz asked. “How do you know you’re cured?”

      The hot sun was seeping into Claudia’s muscles, relaxing them from the workout in the cool water. For the first time in days she felt like a whole person again. “Because I haven’t seen him anymore. Not since I took off Gran’s ring and that’s been a week ago. Before, I was seeing him on a daily basis.”

      Frowning, Liz sat up and swung her legs over the side of the lounge. “You mean to tell me that taking off a ring stopped your visions? That’s hard to swallow. Even from somebody who chases after rainbows.”

      “I’d be the first one to admit it sounds farfetched, but I can’t dispute the facts. No ring, no visions,” Claudia told her.

      “Hmm. Could be coincidental.”

      Now it was Claudia’s turn to frown. “What is this? You sound like you don’t want me to be cured.”

      “It’s not that. I’m just wondering—aren’t you the teeniest bit curious as to why this ring makes you see things? Looks to me like you’re just avoiding the problem. Not curing it.”

      Claudia groaned loudly. “Oh, brother! Why should a person go around asking for trouble? School has just ended. I have the summer ahead to relax. I don’t want to spend it having some strange man pop up in my vision at any given moment.”

      “It was only two weeks ago that you were telling me that as a science teacher you liked to have reasons and explanations. Well? Don’t you want them now?”

      Claudia glanced at the pool of cool, glittering water. “No. I—I’m perfectly content to let things be. The visions were…” She swallowed and glanced back at her friend. “Frankly, they were too disturbing, Liz. There was something—oh, I don’t know—intimate about the whole thing. I kept getting the feeling that this man knows me. In here.” She tapped the middle of her chest, then shook her head. “It was eerie. I—I’ve decided the best thing for me to do is to get rid of the ring. So far it’s brought nothing but misery to my life.” Liz gasped. “Oh, no, Claudia! It’s a precious memento of your grandmother’s. Besides, without it you might never figure out any of this.”

      “Figure it out?” Claudia repeated in disbelief. “I just want to forget it!”

      “Coward!”

      “I’m not!”

      “Prove it,” Liz dared.

      San Antonio. It wasn’t exactly Cancun, but for now Claudia considered it as a first step on her quest to find the man who’d been plaguing her waking hours ever since she’d returned the opal to her finger.

      From her third-floor hotel room, she stared down at the Paseo del Rio winding its way through the city. Eighty-degree weather was mild for early June in south Texas and Claudia wished she could enjoy it with a boat ride or a drink at one of the outside cafés on the river walk. She wished she could do anything besides meet with a man she’d never laid eyes on. Especially when she had no idea how to explain the reasons that had prompted her to make this search. But she hadn’t come to San Antonio on a pleasure trip and the sooner she got this job over with, the better she would feel.

      Claudia found the office building in the old downtown part of the city a few blocks away from the famous Alamo. Mr. Hayden Bedford. He owned a roustabout company and from what she gathered from the plush complex of offices, a very profitable one. But then, most businesses that had anything to do with the oil field were money-makers. With the right man at the helm, she corrected herself.

      Apparently Mr. Bedford knew his business. He just didn’t know Claudia Westfield. And from the tone of his secretary when Claudia had called to schedule a meeting, he didn’t want to know her. But somehow she’d managed to convince the older woman to give her an appointment anyway.

      Now that the time was here, Claudia realized her mouth was dry and her heart was thud, thud, thudding at an unhealthy speed. Which was totally out of character. She wasn’t a nervous person. Until now. And the suspicious, almost dour looks Mr. Bedford’s secretary was throwing her way didn’t help matters.

      Damn it, Gran. This ring of yours is ruining me!

      “All right, Ms. Westfield. Mr. Bedford can see you now.”

      Rising from her seat, Claudia brushed at the wrinkles in her skirt then headed toward a wooden door with a gold nameplate attached at eye level.

      After knocking lightly, she stepped inside.

      “Just a moment. I’ve got to get this damn light off my desk.”

      The deep male voice was coming from a man standing at the window, his back to her. At the moment he was adjusting the blinds so that the glaring afternoon sun tilted toward the ceiling rather than at him and the massive oak desk.

      Claudia stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to turn around. As the seconds ticked by she noticed he was dressed as a rancher rather than a businessman. Starched jeans. White tailored shirt, sleeves rolled back against his forearms. A dark leather belt studded with Texas lone stars. His dark wavy hair told her he was still young and his big, muscular body told her that he didn’t always sit behind a desk.

      “There. That’s better,” he said, then turned to face her.

      Claudia stared and wondered if she was going to faint. Her knees were turning to sponges and there was a faint buzzing in her ears.

      “You!” she said weakly.

      Baffled by her reaction, he stepped around the desk, all the while keeping a careful eye on her pale face. “I’m Hayden Bedford,” he introduced himself. “Are you Ms. Westfield?”

      She nodded and attempted to lick her dry lips. “Yes. Yes, I am,” she said, then offered him her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I must look like a fool, but I…wasn’t expecting to recognize you.”

      He took her hand in his, but rather than shake it, he simply held it firmly as his gaze scanned her face.

      Hysteria rose up in Claudia as heat seemed to arc from his fingers to hers. Those were the same blue eyes, she thought frantically. The same square jaw and chin, the same hollow cheeks. Seeing her vision in the flesh was incredible—and terrifying.

      “I think I should be the one to apologize,” he said. “Because I can’t say that I remember meeting you.”

      Hearing his voice seemed to help her pull herself together. Hoping she appeared far more normal than she felt, she said, “You haven’t.”

      The marginal

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