She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air. He was near. She could feel it. Her blood hummed, and the air around her thickened. She’d come so close to seeing him many times, but she always woke up just before she found him.
Not this time.
This time she would stay on the beach and call him to her. It was her dream after all, and she was getting tired of coming up empty-handed. Eyes closed, she tilted her face to the watercolor sky and waited. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears in perfect time with the pounding waves.
“Samantha,” he whispered into her ear. She stilled, and her mouth went dry. He was standing right behind her. How the hell did he get there? Where did he come from? Why couldn’t he stand right in front of her where she could actually see him? This was supposed to be her dream, her fantasy. Jeez. Can you say intimacy issues?
Sam jumped slightly and sucked in a sharp breath as large hands gently cupped her shoulders. She should open her eyes. She wanted to open her eyes, but the onslaught of sensations to her body and mind had her on overload. Samantha shuddered as he brushed his fingers lightly down her arms leaving bright trails of fire in their wake. He tangled his fingers in hers and pulled her back gently. Sam swallowed hard as his long muscular body pressed up against hers. He was tall, really tall. She sighed. If he looked half as good as he felt, she was in big trouble.
“It would seem that you’ve finally found me,” he murmured into her ear.
Sam nodded, unable to find her voice amid the rush of his. She licked her dry lips and mustered up some courage. It was a dream after all. Nothing to be afraid of. She could always wake up. But that’s what she was afraid of.
“Why don’t you ever let me see you?” she said in a much huskier tone than she’d intended. She pressed her body harder against his and relished the way his fingers felt entwined with hers.
He nuzzled her hair away from her neck and placed a warm kiss on the edge of her ear. “Come home,” he whispered. His tantalizing voice washed over her and he seemed to surround her completely. Body. Mind. Soul. Every single inch of her lit up like the Fourth of July.
“Please,” she said in a rush of air. Sam wrapped his arms around her waist and relished the feel of him. It was like being cradled in cashmere covered steel. Leaning into him, she rubbed her head gently against his arm. He moaned softly and held her tighter. The muscles in his chest rippled behind her, and his bicep flexed deliciously against her cheek. “I need to see you.”
Eyes still closed, she turned in his arms as he said softly “Samantha.”
***
Sam tumbled out of bed and landed on the floor with a thud. Breathing heavily and lying amid her tangled bedclothes, Sam stared at the bland white ceiling of her soon-to-be former apartment.
“Talk about a buzz kill,” she said to the empty room. “Typical. I can’t even get good sex in my dreams.” She puffed the hair from her face and pushed herself up to a sitting position. Sam grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand and swore softly when she saw the time. She was going to be late. Crap.
From Untouched
“You are one sexy bitch.” Kerry grinned broadly and shut the door to Samantha’s bedroom. She leaned back and folded her arms to get a better look at the bride. “Seriously, does Malcolm know how freaking lucky he is?” she asked skeptically. Kerry bent down and smoothed out the train of Samantha’s simple ivory gown.
“Oh he does, and so do I.” Samantha smiled serenely and adjusted the bodice of her strapless silk wedding dress. Kerry stood behind her best friend and removed the one or two kinks in the delicate veil. She smiled at their contrasting reflections in the oval antique mirror. Kerry was a good head taller than Sam. Sam’s hair, swept off her neck, was as blonde as Kerry’s was black. Samantha had always been beautiful, but today she was truly radiant.
Tears stung at the back of Kerry’s eyes. Her best friend, her only friend, was getting married. She took a deep breath, wrapped her arms around Sam’s waist, and braced herself. It was always a gamble touching another human being. Samantha was the only person Kerry could bear to touch. Everyone, including Sam, thought it was a germ phobia. The truth was much more complicated.
It was far more frightening.
She embraced Sam and saw the one image that always burst into her mind, an enormous gray wolf. As odd as it was, that unique image gave her comfort. Since they were children that was the only thing Kerry saw when she touched Sam. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case when she touched other people. Kerry let out a heavy sigh, a mixture of relief and comfort as Sam gave her arms a squeeze.
“I’m not going to Mars, you know. I’m just getting married.” Sam laughed. “Now I’ll be two houses down the beach instead of one. At the very most I’m a phone call away.”
“That’s what they all say.” Kerry sniffled and released Sam from the embrace. She turned quickly and wiped the tears away, feeling foolish for such a display.
“Besides, you’re the famous model,” Sam said with a teasing lilt in her voice. “You know… always jet-setting around the world on photo shoots. We only get to see each other a couple of times a year anyway. Who knows? We may see each other more now.”
Sam took Kerry’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The wolf image burst into Kerry’s head, but at least there was no pain. She could almost tolerate the visions. It was the crippling pain that terrified her. Kerry’s body stilled, and she prayed her friend wouldn’t notice.
“I promise nothing will change! Look at it this way, every time you come to your parents place for a break at the beach, you can count on me being here.”
“He better not be one of those Neanderthal types that won’t let you have a girls’ night out. I mean I don’t even know this guy. Are you sure this is it? You’ve only known him for a month.”
Even as the words escaped her lips she knew what the answer was. In truth, she’d never seen her friend this happy. Ever since Samantha met Malcolm, she glowed. Kerry had heard about that but hadn’t witnessed it until now. Her lips curved. She had always been envious of Sam because she’d been raised in a household with real love and affection. Sam’s family was a far cry from the icy environment of her own childhood.
Sometimes she wondered if her parents’ cool behavior was a reaction to her unusual… sensitivity. They hadn’t tried to embrace her or touch her in years. They had tried a few times when she was a child, but whenever they did she screamed bloody murder and wouldn’t speak for days. Soon they just stopped trying. It saddened her to know that they never would’ve adopted her if they’d known how different she was.
To top it all off, she didn’t exactly fit the preppy, upper-crusty mold that the Smithsons were cut from. She towered over everyone in the family and was built more like an Amazon than a delicate WASP. In every picture she stuck out like a sore thumb. Tall, big-boned, dark-haired, dark-eyed… loner. They didn’t know human contact brought not only horrifying images, but excruciating pain.
Except for when she touched Samantha. There was something special about Sam. Thank God.
“Hey!” Sam snapped her fingers and brought Kerry out of her trance. “Hello in there? You okay?” Sam knitted her brow worriedly at Kerry. “Maybe we should’ve postponed the wedding? I don’t think you’re quite yourself since…”
Kerry put her hand up in protest before Samantha could finish her thought. “Don’t even think about bringing up that ugliness, especially today! I’m fine. I don’t even remember any of it. I mean it!” She clapped her hands and quickly changed the subject. “Hey, why are we standing around here? You’ve got a big hunk of man waiting to marry you underneath that beautiful tent on the beach.”
Sam smiled and gave a quick nod, knowing her friend well enough to know the subject was closed. She picked up her bouquet of red roses and headed out the door toward her new life. Kerry held Sam’s train off of the floor, a traditional maid of honor duty, and followed her down the stairs. She tried to concentrate on the smooth fabric between her fingers, i
nstead of the fact that she’d just lied to her best friend.
She did remember.
She had a vivid memory of one thing from the day she was attacked. A pair of eyes had been fixed on her, eyes that glowed like embers in a fire, accompanied by a deep guttural growl. Every night since the attack, her dreams were haunted by that memory. As she walked into the bright September sunlight, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever sleep soundly again.
***
The music from the lively band flowed lightly around Kerry and the rest of the wedding guests. She sipped the cool, crisp champagne as she watched Samantha dance with her new husband and could practically feel their happiness mixed with the late summer breeze. Her gaze drifted over the intimate group of guests gathered around the bride and groom. They all had that same serene look while they watched Malcolm and Samantha share their first dance as husband and wife. He towered over her as he twirled her around the dance floor, and the sound of her laughter peppered the air.
The two of them hadn’t taken their eyes off each other for one second. If Kerry didn’t know any better, she’d swear they were reading each other’s minds. She chuckled quietly and sipped her champagne from the delicate crystal flute. The guests were limited to only thirty or so close friends and family members. Her own parents had sent their regrets from Europe, which was something of a relief. Kerry could only handle them in limited doses and didn’t want their chilly demeanor ruining such a beautiful day for Sam.
“May I have this dance?”
The deep voice rolled over her like sudden thunder in the distance. She jumped with a yelp and splashed champagne onto her red satin gown. “Shit,” she hissed under her breath. Kerry brushed at the droplets, which were now making dark stains on her dress, and shot an irritated glance at Malcolm’s best man, Dante. “I don’t dance.” Something about this guy threw her off balance. Kerry prided herself on her ability to stay in control, and this guy rattled her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d have that effect on you.”
The amusement in his voice made her want to punch him square in the mouth.
Or kiss him. Shit, she was in trouble.
She glared at him through narrowed eyes and put on her most stuck-up and obnoxious tone, hoping she could frighten him away. “Don’t flatter yourself, Tarzan. I got startled. That’s all.”
He had moved in next to her without a sound. How long had he been standing there? He didn’t go away, but instead, he moved in closer, just a breath away from her. The warmth of his body whispered along her bare arm and all the little hairs stood on end. She was terrified he’d touch her and at the same time worried he wouldn’t. She quickly turned her attention back to Malcolm and Sam, trying to ignore him, but failing miserably.
He was a difficult man to ignore. At five foot ten, she was usually taller than most men, and this guy towered over her, even in her Jimmy Choos. He was massive, well over six feet tall—a solid wall of muscle. He had a handsome, masculine face with the most enormous amber eyes she’d ever seen. His thick auburn hair was almost the exact same color as his eyes.
Not that she’d noticed him or anything.
Kerry scolded herself. There was absolutely no point in getting all hot and bothered over some guy she’d never be able to touch. I must be the oldest living virgin that isn’t officially a nun. She drained what was left of her drink.
Her goal was to be as horrible to him as possible and get him to go away. Dante smiled as though he knew she was doing her best to upset him, and she could feel his gaze wander down the length of her body.
“You’ll dance with me. Maybe not today,” he whispered seductively into her ear. “But eventually… you and I will dance.”
From Undenied
“What do you mean you rented the room to someone else?”
Lillian attempted to keep her voice calm, but her temper was getting the better of her. She glanced around the shabby apartment house and found it difficult to believe that it was booked solid. With all the gorgeous rentals in New Orleans, how on earth could this dump have no vacancies—especially since she had booked a room here for the next six months?
“Sorry.” The old woman took a long drag off her cigarette and blew the smoke into Lillian’s face. Her pale blue-gray eyes stared back unapologetically as she shifted her rotund frame in the chair behind her desk. “I sent you an email, but you never responded, so I figured you were just pissed.”
“Well, I am now.” She ran her hands over her face and let out a sound of frustration. The row of silver bangles on her wrist jingled their familiar tune and instantly calmed her. Something about that tinkling sound always brought her a certain level of serenity.
“Here’s your deposit back.” The woman shoved the envelope into Lillian’s hands.
“Thanks… I guess.” She sucked in another cleansing breath and braced both hands on the desk, hoping to appeal to whatever human decency this woman may have. “Gladys, I’ve been on the road for almost ten days, and my computer died right after I left Washington, so I haven’t had Internet access. That’s why I didn’t answer you—because I never got the email. What am I supposed to do now? I gotta tell ya, Gladys… you’re asking for some bad juju. How can you do this to someone?”
“Aren’t you a fortune-teller?” Gladys looked at her suspiciously and pursed her lips. “Must not be very good at it if you didn’t see this coming.”
“I’m a palm reader.” Lillian adjusted the leather satchel slung over her shoulder. “I read palms—not minds.”
And she did. She could run her finger along the deep-seated lines in a person’s palm and see their past, present, and future. She tried to read people in other ways, but it never worked. It wasn’t just a touch of flesh. Touching someone on the arm or anywhere else didn’t tell her squat.
It was the connection to those creases in the hands… the ones created in the womb that stay with us until the grave… those held a multitude of secrets and truths.
“Yeah?” She stuck her meaty hand out to Lillian. “Prove it,” she sneered.
Lillian bit back the urge to tell the old bag off and took the woman’s plump hand. She turned it over and sucked in a deep breath before trailing her finger along the deep lifeline.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and her lids fluttered closed. Images flashed through her mind as she moved her finger slowly along the crease in her palm—like a slide show of Gladys’s entire life.
Playing in the bayou as a child. Sitting on Santa’s knee at Christmas. Fooling around with a boy behind the bleachers of her high school football field. Stumbling drunk out of bars on Bourbon Street. Coughing up blood, and finally, lying in a casket—not long from now.
Gladys tugged her hand away. “I said, let go.” She rubbed her hand and looked at Lillian with a scowl. “Well? What’d you see?”
“Been to the doctor lately?” Lillian flicked her gaze to the still-burning cigarette dangling from her lips. “They call those coffin nails for a reason.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged and took another drag off her cigarette. “The holidays are just a few weeks away, and the tourists have already invaded the Quarter, so I doubt you’ll find anything around here.”
The cell phone on the desk rang, and the horrible creature picked it up without sparing a glance at Lillian. She started yelling at the caller. It was someone named Bob, and from the way she was screaming—Bob was in deep shit.
Looking around the beat-up old place and listening to Gladys berate poor Bob, Lillian decided that perhaps it was better this way. The old bat was not someone she wanted to deal with on a daily basis. She had bad karma.
Resigned to her fate, she stuffed the envelope in her bag and turned to leave.
“Hang on,” Gladys barked into the phone, before holding it to her ample bosom. “The only place you might actually find a room is over at The Den. It’s a bar just down the ways on the corner of Ursulines and Dauphine. Word has it that Boris has a room for rent, but s
ince that thing happened with his sister, no one wants to rent the place. That’s your best shot.”
Lillian nodded absently as she pushed the screen door open. It creaked in protest and slammed shut behind her with a nerve-shattering crack. She stepped onto the sidewalk and made her way to her old VW bus as she fought the tears threatening to spill down her face.
Great. Her only chance of renting a room was with some guy who had a shady story involving his sister. Boris? He was probably some fat, crusty Russian dude who barked at everyone. Could this day get any worse?
Standing on the corner, she wondered what in the hell she was supposed to do now. The truth was that she had limited options and even more limited funds. She rolled into town on fumes and had only fifty dollars in cash in her pocket. She had no credit cards, and the banks were closed, so she couldn’t deposit the check.
She shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sun and looked up and down the quiet street. This place was nothing like the wild stories she’d heard about New Orleans, but she was on the edge of the French Quarter, not on Bourbon Street—perhaps that’s where all the action really was. She had planned to check into her room and then go have a look around Jackson Square, where she’d be working for the next six months—so much for her bloody plans.
Lillian checked the locks on her van to see that they were secure and decided to take a walk up Ursulines to see if she could find the place that Gladys mentioned. She figured she had nothing to lose by trying. Everything she owned was locked in her flower-and-peace-symbol-covered van. She’d already spent the past week and a half sleeping in it—a streak she was looking forward to breaking once she reached New Orleans.
Unclaimed Page 25
