Chill Factor

by Sandra Brown

  “After Amy died, I had frequent attacks from crying so much. They decreased over time, of course, but I should avoid becoming overwrought.” She gave him a smile that she hoped looked courageous. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It probably won’t matter if I skip a few doses.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully, then glanced at the door. “I’ll go back to the car and get it.”

  “No!” She grabbed his sleeve and held on for dear life. Worse than not having her medication within reach would be not having it and suffering an attack while she was alone.

  Soon after Amy’s death, she’d been seized by an attack during the night. The sound of her own wheezing had awakened her, and she began coughing up the most vile mucus. Her air passages were almost completely blocked by the time she inhaled the life-saving drug.

  It had been a particularly scary episode because she had been alone. Dutch hadn’t come home that night. Nor had he called to tell her that he would be late. Having run out of flimsy excuses, he found it easier not to phone at all than to phone with a lying explanation.

  She had eventually given up waiting for him and gone to bed. She remembered thinking later that it would have served him right if she hadn’t used her inhaler in time, or if it hadn’t been sufficient to clear her air passages, if he’d come home to find that she’d suffocated while he was with another woman.

  Realizing she was still holding Tierney’s sleeve in a desperate clutch, she let go. “You couldn’t make it to the car and back without collapsing,” she said. “You’d be out there lost, frozen, or unconscious, and I’d still be here without my meds. We’d be worse off, not better.”

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I’m afraid you’re right. I’ll put off going until there’s no other choice.”

  “If it comes to that, don’t go without telling me.” She was ashamed of the emotion welling up inside her, but it was vitally important to her that he understand this. “I’ve lived with asthma all my life, but a severe attack is still a terrifying experience. I’m comfortable with being alone as long as my emergency inhaler is within reach. But it’s not. I don’t want to wake up gasping for air and find myself here alone, Tierney. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” he vowed softly.

  A log in the fireplace shifted, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Lilly turned away from him and knelt on the hearth to stir the embers beneath the iron grate.

  “Lilly?”

  “Hmm?” When Tierney didn’t respond, she turned her head. “What?”

  “How would you feel about sleeping together?”

  • • •

  Marilee Ritt had a relaxing evening.

  Although it hadn’t been officially announced, she knew there would be no school tomorrow. Even if the buses could run their routes, which they couldn’t, it would cost the school district dearly to heat the buildings in temperatures this extreme.

  Nevertheless, the superintendent took perverse pleasure in notifying everyone of the cancellation at the last possible moment, usually in the morning about an hour before the bell was due to ring. It was his little power play not to let everyone sleep in.

  Rather than grade papers, which was what she usually did with her evenings, Marilee watched one of the videos she had brought home from the drugstore. The female protagonist was a vacuous character. The male was a cad with no redeeming qualities. The film’s only merits were the chemistry between the equally attractive actors and a good theme song performed by Sting. So what if there were holes in the plot and the dialogue was sappy? It wasn’t Dostoevsky, but it was fun escapism, and she had enjoyed it.

  As she made her way through the house, she switched off lights and checked to see that all the doors were locked. Glancing down the bedroom hall, she noticed that no light was coming from beneath William’s door. She guessed he’d been in bed for hours. He was early to retire, early to rise.

  She went into her bedroom and closed the door, but she didn’t turn on the lamp. A streetlight halfway down the block cast enough of a glow through the window shade for her to see her way around. She removed the decorative throw pillows from her bed and folded back the down comforter.

  Then she went into the bathroom and began to undress. She took her time, removing each garment slowly, then carefully setting it aside before removing another. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh, but still she didn’t rush.

  When she was naked, she removed the elastic band that held her ponytail and shook her hair free, combing her fingers through the wheat-colored strands, about which she was secretly vain. She liked feeling it loose and soft against her bare shoulders.

  Her nightgown was hanging on a hook on the back of the door. She slipped it on. It was unseasonably skimpy, but she loved lacy, silky nightwear and wore it year-round. Shivering, she padded into the bedroom.

  She was climbing onto her bed when he caught her around the waist with one arm and clamped his other hand over her mouth. She tried to scream and arched her back in an effort to break away from him.

  “Shh!” he hissed, directly into her ear. “Be still or I’ll have to hurt you.”

  Marilee stopped struggling.

  “That’s more like it,” he said. “Is your brother asleep?”

  “Hm-mmm?”

  He squeezed her waist tighter, drawing her up hard against his chest. His breath was warm and humid against her ear and neck. “I asked if your brother is asleep?”

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

  “Okay. That’s good. Do as I say, and I won’t hurt you. Understand?”

  Her heart was knocking against her ribs, but she gave another nod of assent.

  “If I take my hand away from your mouth, will you scream?” She shook her head, perhaps too quickly to be sincere. He growled, “If you do—”

  She shook her head more adamantly.

  Gradually, he removed his hand from her mouth. She whimpered, “What are you going to do to me?”

  Then he showed her.

  CHAPTER

  12

  THE INTRUDER ROUGHLY GRABBED HER HAND, pulled it around to her back, and pressed her palm against his exposed penis. Marilee gasped in shock. He folded her fingers around his erection and moved her hand up and down.

  She could see their reflection in the cheval glass across the room. It was an old-fashioned piece that had come to her through her mother and maternal grandmother. Wide oval mirror, cream-colored wood with pink roses painted on it.

  But there was nothing quaint about the reflection caught in it now. It was carnal. Raw. Erotic. In the semidarkness she saw herself in her short, skimpy nightgown. He was in shadow. All she could make out of him was a watch cap and a pair of eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

  Nudging the furrow between her buttocks, he whispered, “Lower your gown.”

  She shook her head, slowly at first, then more decisively. “No.”

  Before she could react, he yanked the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. It fell as far as her waist, leaving her breasts exposed. At once he had both arms around her, mashing her breasts against her chest.

  Marilee moaned.

  “Shh,” he hissed sharply.

  She clamped her teeth over her lower lip.

  He slid one hand down the center of her body and tried to work it between her thighs. “Open them.”

  “Please—”

  “Open them.”

  She moved her feet apart a few inches.

  “Wider.” She hesitated, then did as he ordered. He pushed his fingers into her. She met his eyes in the mirror; they seemed to be alight. “Get on your knees and put your face to the mattress.”

  Planting her knees on the edge of the bed, she bent forward until her cheek was resting on the mattress. His hands were hot as he caressed her, separated her, exposed her. The tip of his penis probed and teased before he thrust into her.

  Convulsively her hands gripped the sheet beneath her as tightly as her body clenched around him. He groaned and pressed dee
per. “Say it, what am I doing to you?”

  She mumbled a reply into the mattress.

  “Louder.”

  She repeated the word and rocked back against him.

  “You’re going to come, aren’t you?” His strokes became shorter, faster.

  On a serrated sigh, she moaned “Yes.”

  The orgasm left her damp and weak and deliriously happy. It was just beginning to wane when she felt his climax. As he held her hips between his hands, his entire body strained and pulsed. She came again, her orgasm smaller this time but no less satisfying.

  After catching her breath, she crawled forward onto the bed, then rolled over and reached for him. “That was exciting.” He knew all her fantasies because she had told them to him. They didn’t always act them out, but she loved when they did.

  He took her breasts in his hands and rubbed his thumbs across her hard nipples. “You like to be scared.”

  “I must, or I wouldn’t have you sneaking in here.” They shared a long and languid kiss. When they finally broke apart, she touched his face lovingly. “Did you catch my act in the bathroom?”

  “Couldn’t you feel me watching?”

  “Honestly, yes. The instant I came into the room, I knew you were here. I wanted to draw out the striptease longer. Maybe, you know, touch myself.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Another time. It was too cold tonight. In fact, because of the weather, I didn’t expect you.”

  He kissed his way down the center of her torso, then knelt between her open thighs. As he pressed his face into her, he groaned, “I can’t stay away from this.”

  • • •

  Outside Marilee’s bedroom, William listened at the door for a few more minutes, then, smiling smugly, barely suppressing a chuckle, silently crept back down the dark hallway to his own room.

  • • •

  Tierney’s question took Lilly off guard. She stared at him, too shocked to respond.

  “Maybe I should have led up to it gracefully, rather than just springing it on you like that,” he said. “I’m usually more subtle.”

  More subtle when inviting a woman to sleep with him. And how often was that, she wondered, although she was reasonably sure it was often. She was equally sure that few who were invited turned him down.

  Her carefree laugh was totally false. “Should I be flattered or offended? Why don’t you think a more subtle approach would work with me?”

  “None of the rules apply to you, Lilly.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re too smart and too beautiful.”

  “I’m not beautiful. Attractive, perhaps, but not beautiful.”

  “You are. I thought so the minute you stepped aboard that bus.”

  She had been several minutes late and the last to board the bus, she recalled. She’d stood facing the others, looking for a seat. Tierney had been sitting in the third row, next to the window. The aisle seat beside him was vacant. They’d made eye contact. She returned his smile but didn’t accept his silent invitation to sit beside him. Instead she moved past and took the aisle seat in the row behind him.

  The doors closed and the bus pulled out. Their guide for the excursion stood up in the aisle to welcome them all. He gave a ten-minute spiel about safety and what they could expect during their day on the French Broad River. His jokes were lame, but she laughed politely, as did Tierney.

  When the guide finished his cheerful speech and sat down behind the driver, others in the group began chatting among themselves. Tierney turned to her.

  I’m Ben Tierney.

  Lilly Martin.

  Pleased to meet you, Lilly Martin.

  “You looked great that day,” he said.

  She knew she should stop this conversation here. It was violating the ground rules she’d laid down about keeping their minds on practical matters and leaving anything personal out of the situation. But the woman in her wanted to hear what he had to say.

  She frowned at him dubiously. “In my kayaking getup?”

  “Black spandex has never looked so good.”

  “Untrue, but thanks anyway.”

  “You introduced yourself by your maiden name. I didn’t learn until my next trip to Cleary that the Lilly Martin I’d met on the river was in fact Mrs. Burton, estranged wife of Dutch, newly hired chief of police.”

  “I used my maiden name professionally. Once I’d filed for divorce, I started using it all the time. Who told you that Dutch and I were married?”

  “An old man named Gus Elmer. Do you know him?”

  She shook her head.

  “He’s the owner of the lodge where I stay when I’m in the area. Colorful character. Always eager to talk to his guests. Without making it too obvious, I asked him if he knew of a Lilly Martin who had a cabin in the vicinity.”

  “And got an earful.”

  He smiled crookedly. “If Gus had any qualms against gossip, bourbon cleared his conscience. By the time the bottle was empty, I knew the basic facts about you, including Amy’s death. That explained a lot.”

  “About?”

  He gave careful consideration to his answer. “That day on the river, I noticed that every time you laughed, you seemed to catch yourself in the act, and you would stop. Suddenly. Your smile would vanish. The sparkle would go out of your eyes.

  “At the time, it threw me. I wondered why you’d trip a switch to stop having fun. It was like you didn’t have a right to enjoy yourself, like it was wrong for you to be having a good time.”

  “That’s it exactly, Tierney.”

  “Enjoying yourself makes you feel guilty, because Amy is dead and you’re alive.”

  “According to my grief counselor, yes.”

  His perception of her was uncanny. He seemed to know the contents of every secret chamber of her heart. Apparently he’d been able to read her mind even on the day they met. It felt good to talk freely about Amy, but his insight was disconcerting.

  He eased himself onto the hearth beside her. “Tonight, when you told me in your own words about Amy’s death, I recognized the sadness in you that I’d noticed that day on the river.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why apologize?”

  “Sorrow makes people uncomfortable.”

  “Maybe other people. Not me.”

  She looked at him curiously. “Why is that?”

  “I admire how you’ve tried to conquer it.”

  “Not always successfully.”

  “But the important thing is that you didn’t give in to it.” He didn’t add, Like your husband, but that was what he was implying.

  “Be that as it may, no one wants to be around a sad sack,” she said.

  “I’m still here.”

  “You can’t escape. We’re stranded, remember?”

  “I’m not complaining. In fact, I have a confession. I’m glad you and I are here alone, cut off from the rest of the world.” His voice dropped to a lower pitch. “This conversation began with a question.”

  “No, I won’t sleep with you.”

  “Hear me out, Lilly. We could conserve heat, even generate it, by undressing and snuggling under a pile of blankets. Our combined body heat would help keep us warm.”

  “Hmm, I see. You’re suggesting it strictly out of necessity.”

  “Not strictly. About seventy-five percent.”

  “It’s the other twenty-five that concerns me.”

  He reached out and claimed a strand of her hair, but unlike when he touched it in the car, he didn’t immediately let it go. He rubbed it between his fingers. “I’ve wanted you from day one. Why waste time on subtlety when I’m absolutely sure you knew it from the start? I want you under me.

  “But—and this is important—nothing will happen until I know you want it, too. It stops at snuggling for warmth.” He spread his fingers and watched the strands of her hair sift through them, then met her eyes again. “I swear.”

  Looking into his eyes, hearing the sincerity in
his husky voice, she trusted him to keep his word. Well, sort of. That had been an awfully arousing profession of desire.

  What she didn’t trust was the situation. She tried to imagine herself and Tierney lying together, even partially unclothed, hugging one another for warmth without any sexual exploration or experimentation. Who did he think he was kidding? Himself, perhaps, but not her.

  Not that the sky would fall if they submitted to their attraction. Her sensual impulses were certainly green-lighting the idea. But she’d known him for all of . . . what? Counting that day on the river, she’d spent a total of perhaps fifteen hours with him. Even in this age of sexual permissiveness and self-gratification without regard for consequences, that was a little too accelerated for her.

  All she really knew about him was that he was a good listener and could write an entertaining and concise magazine article. Was she ready to be physically intimate with a man about whom so little was known? Women of the younger generation would call her old-fashioned, prudish, and cowardly. She preferred thinking of herself as intelligently cautious.

  “No, Tierney. My answer remains no.”

  “All right.” He gave her a crooked half smile. “Honestly, if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t trust me either.” He stood up. “On to plan B. We shut the vents in the bedroom and bath, close off those rooms entirely, and confine ourselves in here, where we have a small reserve of heat.

  “I could bring the mattress off the bed and put it near the fireplace for you. I’ll sleep on one of the sofas, a safe yard and a half away from you. But if you don’t want even that much togetherness, I’ll certainly understand.”

  She came to her feet and dusted off the seat of her trousers. “Plan B makes perfect sense.”

  “Glad you agree. I’ll get right on it.” He headed for the bedroom.

  “Tierney?”

  He stopped and turned back.

  “Thank you for accepting my decision without further argument. You’re being awfully nice about it.”

  He looked at her for several beats, then closed the distance between them in two long strides. “I’m not that nice.”