by Tracy Wolff
Climbing shakily to his feet, he reached for the largest bottle on the vanity table. She would be back in a few days and he had to be ready.
He shook out two pills, swallowed them dry. And tried to ignore the fine trembling that rocked him from the inside out.
* * *
Serena closed her laptop with a sigh. She’d spent the last few hours taking notes on each and every photo she’d taken of Kevin with the digital camera. But now it was time to come out of the bedroom—time to face the music, so to speak.
She glanced at the clock. It was two thirty and Kevin was finally awake. About twenty minutes before she’d heard the shower turn on and now the scent of coffee was drifting through her closed door.
She was already showered and dressed, had been for nearly four hours. Though she’d been exhausted when she’d fallen asleep on Kevin—her cheeks burned at the memory—she’d only managed to sleep about three and a half hours. The nightmare had woken her up, as it had every day for the last two weeks, and she hadn’t been able to face laying in bed and staring at the ceiling.
She’d decided, instead, to make the most of her early start by examining the digital pictures she’d taken of Kevin over the last three days. There were not as many as she would have hoped, largely because she’d spent an awful lot of time taking photos with her Nikon. Now she had about thirty rolls of film to develop, something she planned on doing when she returned to Baton Rouge later in the day.
Kevin would think she was running away, and maybe she would have considered it if this thing in Baton Rouge hadn’t loomed huge and irrevocable in her head. She dreaded the trip home. Dreaded facing what she’d buried for the last ten years. But the D.A. was insistent—it was imperative that she testify at the parole hearing. She couldn’t argue with him; she knew Jack wouldn’t put her through it if he didn’t think it absolutely necessary.
Her cell rang, interrupting her silent reverie, and she picked it up without thinking. “Serena Macafee.”
“Hello, darling.”
Her stomach clenched sickly at the familiar, distorted voice and she started to hang up, but knew the gesture was useless. He would just call back and leave messages—twisted and explicit—until she finally listened to him. “What do you want?” She kept her voice steady, though her stomach churned.
“Just to talk. I’ve missed you—you’ve been away for days.”
Chills skittered down her spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He laughed, the sound even more disturbing for its distortion. “Let’s not play games, sweetheart. You’re not at home and haven’t been for nearly a week. Where are you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
The disembodied voice turned deadly serious. “Everything about you is my business. When are you going to figure that out?”
Hands clenched into fists, Serena fought for control—fought to keep the sick panic out of her voice. “Look, hasn’t this gone on long enough? Aren’t you bored yet?”
“You could never bore me. Talking to you is so often the highlight of my day.”
“Well, it’s not the highlight of mine. You need to stop or I’ll call the police.”
“No, you won’t.” His voice was confident, self-assured. “You hate the cops, hate the whole system. You wouldn’t call them if you were dying in the street.”
Serena froze, shocked at just how well this man knew her. She’d assumed, at first, that the calls were just a joke. A couple of kids crank calling for kicks. But the calls had gone on for weeks now, each one a little more personal, a little more disturbing than the last. He’d even managed to get her cell phone number after she’d changed it. Twice.
“Ahhh, that got your attention, didn’t it? You think I don’t know you? You think I don’t know everything about you? Like right now you’re in the middle of that godforsaken bayou taking pictures of some famous artist. Aren’t you?
“What’s the matter?” he asked after a minute, as if her silence disturbed him. “Am I not supposed to know what you’re up to?” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Am I not supposed to know about the great Kevin Riley? They say women are crazy about him. Is that true? Are you crazy about him? Do you want him to fuck you?”
The voice turned ugly. “Or has he already?”
She didn’t answer him, couldn’t answer him as shock spun through her.
“Tell me the truth, damn it! Has he touched you? You’ve been way out there in the middle of the swamps with him for days. Has he kissed you? Sucked your gorgeous little nipples? Licked his way down that hot little body of yours until—”
She hit the disconnect button moments before the phone fell from her suddenly numb fingers. She couldn’t listen to one more word—even if it meant the calls would escalate, get worse.
Because her shaking legs would no longer support her, Serena sank slowly onto her bed. What had she gotten herself into? And Dear God, how was she going to get herself out of it?
Had she somehow managed to pick up a stalker? Someone who watched her every move? She shuddered violently, fighting against the almost overwhelming need to close the blinds and curl into a ball. Fighting the urge to take a shower and scrub until she felt clean.
Sandra’s death had taught her to be wary, had convinced her that the world could be a very sick place. She really should call the police, tell them about the phone calls. About the caller’s bizarre knowledge of her life and personality.
But he was right. She hated the Baton Rouge police, didn’t trust them at all. Refused to trust them after the debacle surrounding her sister’s death. Besides, she didn’t have any proof. Believing at first the calls were nothing more than some bored kids looking for excitement, she’d erased all the messages.
Now, however, she wasn’t nearly as certain. Now she was scared—for herself and for Kevin. What if this guy was violent? Jealous? Completely obsessed? She’d seen that kind of obsession firsthand, knew how vicious it could be.
Resting her head in her hands, Serena pressed the heels of her hands against her weary eyes. As if the next few days didn’t already hold enough fun-filled activities to last her a lifetime, now she had someone following her every move—fixated on her and perhaps on Kevin as well.
With her eyes closed, she couldn’t stop the events of the previous night from flipping through her brain. What had she been thinking? Her laugh was unamused as she realized the obvious answer—she hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d been too caught up in the blazing desire generated from being in the same room with Kevin to even attempt to think rationally. There was no other answer for her behavior, no other reason for the heat flooding her still.
But she couldn’t afford to use her suddenly raging hormones as a guide to living her life. Even without her obscene caller and his threats, her life was entirely too complicated at present to consider starting a relationship.
She had to stop this thing with Kevin before it really got started. Had to stop thinking about him, lusting after him when she should be working. She wasn’t afraid of the sex—that was the easy part. But she couldn’t just fuck him and move on. Because no matter how casually she intended this thing with him to be, no matter how desperately she tried to keep her emotional distance, she had a feeling getting involved with Kevin would be the equivalent of emotional quicksand. He didn’t have a casual, uncomplicated bone in his body and even if he did, there was too much heat between them for things to be just sexual.
Already they were teetering on the edge of emotional involvement and she didn’t do emotional involvement. He’d held her last night when she’d fallen apart, had soothed her and rocked her to sleep like a child. That in itself put Kevin in a category far different from mere sexual attraction. A small part of her, one she had thought long dead and buried, warmed at the memory of his care and concern. The rest of her was a mixture of fear and humiliation. Fear because of the curious melting in the region of her heart. Humiliation because Kevin had seen her so complete
ly defenseless.
She’d spent years cultivating her smooth outer shell—so many years that no one even remembered the girl she’d once been. Not even her. And now she’d let Kevin in—had let him see her with all her defenses down. She felt naked, exposed, and she couldn’t stand the vulnerability.
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Serena inhaled and exhaled slowly. Battled the rising panic and slowly unfurled her clenched fists. She could handle this. Compared to what had happened ten years before, compared to what awaited her in front of that parole board, getting through the next hour was a walk in the park. She just had to get herself, and her emotions, under control before she did.
Pushing her chair back from the desk, she strode across the room and stared at herself in the mirror above the sturdy, unfinished pine dresser. She looked pale, frazzled, on edge. She laughed, but it was a sound tinged more with cynicism than humor. She was frazzled and on edge. How could she not be? She was in the middle of the biggest project she’d ever been involved with, perched to blow her career wide open, and she was falling apart.
Her brown eyes were shadowed, made even darker by the purple circles underneath them. Her light summer tan looked sallow with her unnatural pallor and her mouth was drawn into a tight line. Quite a difference from the sexually charged woman of the night before. But the blackout last night, followed by the nightmare, had been one stress too many on her already maxed-out system. It would be a miracle if she managed to get out of Kevin’s house without making a complete and total fool of herself.
Serena laughed again, bitterly. Oh yeah, she’d already done that. She picked up her brush, ran it through her hair one last time—more because it gave her something to do than because she cared what her hair looked like. When she was finished, she dropped the brush into her open luggage and slowly zipped the sensible gray case shut. Taking a bracing breath, she opened her bedroom door and headed down the hall to find Kevin.
He was making eggs. Bacon sizzled on the back burner and coffee dripped slowly into its glass carafe. Her stomach twisted violently and for a moment Serena thought she’d have to make a mad dash for the bathroom. But a couple of deep breaths and a huge dose of willpower settled her down enough that she could walk sedately into the kitchen.
Her eyes fell on Kevin. Did the man ever wear a shirt, she wondered, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She was determined to ignore the fine trembling that had started as soon as she laid eyes on him.
His faded jeans had a hole under his back, left pocket and if she looked hard enough she could see a tanned, lightly haired thigh. Not that she was looking, Serena reminded herself sternly, forcing her gaze away from his tempting flesh. His feet, big and bare, were tanned. She watched as they tapped in rhythm to a song only Kevin could hear.
She cleared her throat, prepared to speak, but Kevin whirled around before she could get a word out. “Oh hey, there you are!” He grinned. “Did you sleep well?”
She nodded. “Umm, yeah, I did.”
“Good.” He gestured to the loaf of bread on the counter. “You want to make the toast? The coffee’s just about ready.”
Was he going to make it easy for her, she wondered, as she started the bread toasting mechanically. No mention of last night? Like he hadn’t seduced her more thoroughly than any man, ever, with a simple bite on her finger? Sudden anger burned in the pit of her stomach though she wasn’t sure why. Isn’t this what she’d wanted? Not to have to deal with her insane and impulsive loss of control? Not to have to make excuses for cutting things short?
She viciously buttered the toast, nearly ripping the first piece in half. Had he just been using her as a convenience, to scratch an itch? Her cheeks flared, the pallor of a few minutes before replaced by her sudden indignation. No man treated her like that, as if she were just a warm body in the middle of the night! She kept her affairs casual, true, but that was because she liked them that way. Who did Kevin Riley think he was?
“What did that toast do to you, cher?” he murmured, his voice warm with laughter as his arms circled her waist from behind.
Serena jumped, nearly sending the toast and butter knife careening across the kitchen. His breath was warm in her ear, sending shivers down her spine as his teeth nibbled leisurely at her earlobe.
“What are you doing?” She meant to sound outraged, but her voice betrayed her, coming out more than a little breathy.
“Saying good morning.” His mouth coasted slowly down her jaw as he pulled her deeper into his embrace. “Good morning.”
She melted before she could stop herself, her body turning hot and liquid. She wanted to stay here forever, letting his lips work their magic over her entire body. A moan rose in her throat, and she had to work extremely hard to stifle it. Forcing herself to stand straight up, refusing to lean into his body, was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. But she couldn’t do this, not now, not with this man. No matter how badly she wanted to.
She cleared her throat, striving to sound professional. “Good morning.”
He didn’t get the hint, pulling her back flush against him. Her knees nearly buckled as she felt him rubbing, hot and hard, against her. Using every ounce of strength she could muster, she picked up the plate of toast and ducked out from beneath his arms. “Ready to eat?”
Kevin studied her with suddenly narrowed eyes. “I guess I am.” He grabbed the two plates of food near the stove and strode to the table. “Here.” He thumped hers down before sitting in his chair.
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded strangled, but it was the best she could do. She felt bereft without his arms around her, but she had only herself to blame. It was better this way, she told herself as she settled down at the table. She had a feeling Kevin could make things extremely complicated when he wanted to.
* * *
Thank you. The words echoed in Kevin’s head as he tried to tamp down on the fury slowly setting his body on fire. What kind of game was Serena playing? From cold to hot and back to cold? With no warning or explanation? He studied her closely, from the serenity of her expression to the rock-steady hands slowly bringing the coffee cup to her lips.
Gone were the sexy siren of last night and the lost little girl of early this morning. In their place was the woman he had met three days ago. Calm, cold, collected, a small but superior smile tilting the corners of her lips.
“The eggs are very good.” When she spoke, her voice was as steady as her hands, all trace of desire gone as if it had never been. But he’d felt her tremble in his arms, last night and again a few minutes ago. Had felt her body melt into his before she could stop it. So what was going on?
“Wine,” he said, his voice sounding harsh to his own ears.
“Excuse me?” She looked at him inquisitively, that small and intensely irritating smile still on her lips. He itched to wipe it off, to bridge the distance that had sprung up between them.
“I put a little white wine in when I was mixing them. It’s how my mother taught me.” He caught her eye.
“Oh. It’s good.” She tried to look away, but he held her cool gaze with his hot one, refusing to let her. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, eyes locked, her fork poised halfway to her mouth, his hand wrapped around his coffee mug. But for a moment, just a moment, an answering heat blazed in her own eyes and her lips parted, as if she was having trouble breathing. The hand holding the fork trembled before she could stop it and her other hand slowly closed into a fist.
So she wasn’t as cool as she liked to pretend. The knowledge calmed him, temporarily subduing the beast that had begun to rise in him. He took a deep sip of coffee, ignoring the slight pain that came from the steaming brew.
“Are you hot?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” Her voice was strangled.
He raised one eyebrow inquiringly, even as his lips curled into a smile that was more a threat than a sign of genuine amusement. “You’re sweating.” He gestured to the single drop of sweat slowly working its
way down the side of her face. She definitely wasn’t as cool as she wanted him to believe.
Her hand came up defensively, wiping away the condemning drop before she could stop herself. “I guess it is a little warm in here. With the stove, I mean.”
He shrugged. “I’m pretty comfortable. But I can lower the AC if you want me to.”
“No!” Serena stopped, took a deep breath. “I mean, I’m fine. And I’m not going to be here long enough for it to kick in.”
Rage erupted inside of him, running up his spine to his brain at an alarming rate. Fighting to keep his head from exploding, Kevin clenched his fists and studied her through eyes that had turned nearly black with fury. He forgot to be detached. He forgot to act careless. He forgot everything but the anger burning him from the inside out.
When he spoke, his voice was a low, furious throb. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”
“I am not a coward.” Her voice dripped ice. “I simply have things that I need to take care of, things that can’t be done from here.”
“Bullshit. You’re running away.” He raked a hand through his hair, even as his eyes bore viciously into her own. “What’s the matter, Serena? Too scared to finish what you started?”
“I didn’t start anything.” At his derisive snort, her spine stiffened even more. He hadn’t thought it possible for anyone to actually sit that straight.
“I didn’t,” she insisted. “While I definitely …” Her voice trailed off before she caught herself, cleared her throat. “While I definitely participated last night, I did so without any premeditation. You started it, I went along with it. But now I’ve changed my mind.”
“Just like that? And I’m just supposed to go along with that?” He lifted one eyebrow sardonically, deliberately setting her teeth on edge.
“A woman’s prerogative.” She stared defiantly at him for a moment, before dropping her eyes to her plate. He felt, more than heard, her sigh. “Look, Kevin, it’s a bad idea.”
“What is?” He refused to make it easy for her. She set him on fire, made him burn hotter and harder than any woman ever had and then copped out at the last minute? Not in this lifetime.
