“You have to start somewhere. How about if we rent a video tonight. We can order in, pizza or Chinese. My place of course. Les will work straight through the evening. We’ll have to feed him.”
Helen felt flustered. There was a look in Sam’s eyes she’d never seen before. “That . . . that sounds good,” she managed to say.
“We could have a sleepover.” Sam grinned. “We could share secrets. We could pretend we’re married and do all the things married people do. Hell, I’m up for anything.”
Helen knew the color drained from her face, and it felt like an army of ants was marching around inside her stomach. “You mean . . . well . . . listen, Sam, I thought we had a clear understanding about our friendship.”
Sam took her face in both his hands. “I do have an understanding. I like you a lot, Nancy. You know that. Jesus, I consider you to be one of my best friends. I enjoy your company more than that of any of my other friends. Sometimes friendships change into something more meaningful. Maybe this one won’t. I’m hoping it will. However, I don’t see that happening if you don’t open up to me. I’m not stupid. I’m not deaf, dumb, and blind either. I know you aren’t exactly what you pretend to be. I even suspect your dog’s real name is not Nine-A. We are never going to get beyond this point if you don’t open up to me. You can trust me, Nancy.”
“I know that, Sam. Sometimes I wish I’d never met you and your dog. Then the other times, I am so glad I did. I just can’t . . . it isn’t that I don’t . . . I can’t,” Helen said flatly. “When the time is right, you are the first person I’ll run to. I want you to trust me. Can you do that, Sam, for just a little while longer?” Until I get hold of Boots and she tells me it is okay.
“Okay, let me get this straight. We’re going to do the video and the ordering in. We are not going to have a sleepover. We are just going to watch the video, hold hands and snuggle and maybe eat some popcorn while our dogs cavort around us.”
“That’s pretty much it,” Helen said. “It has to be this way, Sam.”
“I’m okay with it, Nancy.”
Well, I’m not okay with it. I wish I could tell you how much I want you. I want to feel your arms around me. I want to make love to you. I want us to wake up next to each other in the morning and then make love again. I can’t go to bed with someone who thinks my name is Nancy and calls me Nancy. When I make love to you, it will be as Helen Stanley. Not as Nancy Baker, and never as Helen Ward.
10
Sam Tolliver looked in the mirror. “So you aren’t Brad Pitt or George Clooney,” he grimaced. “By the same token, Brad Pitt and George Clooney aren’t college professors with a 110-pound chocolate Lab.” He stuck his tongue out at his reflection. Max growled and swatted his tail against his master’s leg. It was his way of saying, get a move on.
The call had come in just minutes ago from Les, saying Nancy’s web page was finished and up and running. His first inclination was to run down the hall to Nancy’s apartment and tell her. Then he decided to get a sneak preview. He’d whistled at the clever graphics and had felt his neck grow warm at the foxy-looking underwear Sassie Lassie featured. This definitely called for a celebration.
Wine bottle in hand, freshly shaved, wearing a clean shirt, clean socks, and underwear, he was ready to celebrate. He hoped Nancy felt the same way. Maybe he should have gotten her some flowers. Where the hell did you find flowers at ten o’clock at night? Nowhere he knew of. The wine would have to do.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re going, Max. First, though, I need to . . . plan my . . . you know, my presentation. This is a biggie for Nancy. I want her to know I’m as excited as she is about her new business. Plus, I think I’m falling in love with her. If I tell her, though, she’ll back off. She’s spooked enough as it is. Two weeks ago when she told me she might move I thought I was going to pass out. That means she’ll take her dog with her. Where does that leave us, Max? Out in the cold, that’s where. If she even thinks I’m putting a move on her, she freezes. Enough of this. Let’s go!”
Max was at the door, his tail swishing furiously, before Sam could get off the kitchen chair. He barked at the door to Helen’s apartment before Sam had time to close and lock his own door.
“I have news! Good news! Wonderful news!” Sam shouted as he entered Helen’s apartment.
The moment the door closed behind him, Sam playfully dropped to a low, menacing crouch, the wine bottle swinging wildly in his hand. And then all hell broke loose as Lucie leaped through the air to grab at Sam’s shirtfront as she strained to reach his throat. Helen backed to the door, her face whiter than the ceiling she was standing under. She cowered, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes fearful. Max skidded across the floor to reach up and grab Lucie by the scruff of the neck. He barked wildly, circling Sam first and then Helen. It was clear he didn’t know what to do, whom to protect.
“What the hell!” Sam exploded. “Your dog almost ripped out my throat! What are you doing, Nancy? What’s wrong? You look like you think . . . Oh Jesus, I think I know what you and your dog are thinking. Down, Max. Easy . . . Nine-A. That’s a good girl. Nancy, come over here and sit down. Now, Nancy! You thought I was going to strike you, didn’t you? I would never do that. I think it’s time for us to talk. Really talk.”
Helen drew a deep breath as Lucie leaped to her lap. She was trembling so badly, Helen opened her sweater and covered her, holding her close. “It was just an instinctive reaction. I’m sorry. You looked so . . . threatening there for a minute. I wish I could talk to you, but I can’t. I have to follow the rules. If I break them . . .”
“What happens if you break them?” Sam asked gently.
“I . . . won’t . . . I can’t expect you to understand. Maybe it’s better if we don’t see each other anymore.”
“Oh, no! That’s bullshit. I’m not leaving here till you tell me what’s going on. I think I can pretty much figure it out myself, but I’d like to hear you tell me. I’d like you to trust me enough to tell me on your own. I give you my word, I won’t let anything happen to you or your dog.”
Helen held the little dog tighter. “I do trust you, Sam. I really do. I just can’t say anything to you until I get approval to do so. When you break the rules, the program doesn’t work. It’s that simple. Can we leave it at that?”
“No. If I didn’t care for you, maybe. As it is, I think I’m falling in love with you. I even think you care for me, odd as that may sound, but there has to be trust on both our parts; otherwise, it isn’t going to work. I think I would trust you with my life. Hell, I trust you with my dog. I never let anyone keep my dog. Nine-A likes me. She lets me pick her up, cuddle her, and she comes willingly to my apartment even if you aren’t there. What in the hell happened here a few minutes ago? Are you in the Witness Protection Program? I need to know. Please tell me, Nancy.”
Helen made an instant decision when she saw the concern in Sam’s eyes. She knew she would regret it, but she didn’t care. She licked at her dry lips. “My name isn’t Nancy Baker. I truly, truly hate that name. My name is Helen. It was the way you came into the apartment, crouching low and swinging the wine bottle. My husband beat my dog so badly she almost died. He beat me, too. I had broken bones, fractures, wounds of all shapes and sizes. I went to the doctors and the emergency room so many times I lost count. The night he attacked ... Nine-A was my breaking point. I ran with her and a very kind motorist picked us up and took us to a vet. He saved her life, fixed me up, and managed to contact a women’s shelter. They took me in, and I didn’t look back. They did all this,” Helen said, waving her arms about. “They set me up here, got me a job, got me phony credentials, you know, a driver’s license, a Visa card, a new social security card. All I had to do was follow the rules, and I just broke them. That means I can no longer stay in the program.”
“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?” Sam said.
“I wanted to. I couldn’t. I owe my life and my dog’s life to those people who cared enough to help us. I’ll have to lea
ve now and find my own way. I can’t put any of them in harm’s way. Once you break the rules, you’re out of the program. That’s the first thing that’s drummed into your head.”
“I’ll never tell anyone. I told you. You can trust me. I’ll never breathe a word of this to another soul. No one ever needs to know you told me,” Sam pleaded.
Helen started to cry. “I’ll know. We do mandatory on-line counseling. I’ve been doing it since the day I moved here. Something is wrong, though. I can’t get through to my counselor on the net. I’ve sent dozens of e-mails, and she isn’t responding. If they were cutting me loose, I think I would have been notified. I have a bad feeling and don’t know what to do. It’s with me every minute of the day. I’m thinking my husband somehow found me, or he’s getting close. He will find me, it’s just a matter of time. Why haven’t you asked me why I didn’t leave?”
“Because I know why. You were afraid, you had nowhere to go, and that bastard said he would kill you if you left.”
“How . . . how did you know?”
“When I was studying for my doctorate, I volunteered in a crisis center. I saw and heard it all.”
“I used to pray he would have a car accident. I prayed for him to die. I hate myself for that, but it helped me to think like that. In my own way I was just as sick as he was. I got help. He didn’t. I can’t stay here now.”
“Oh, yes you can. You aren’t going anywhere, Helen. You know what, you were never a Nancy. I never did think that name fit you. Nine-A,” he snorted. “That doesn’t even bear discussing.”
“We were the ninth guests the month of December at the shelter. We went by a number until our credentials came through. I was Number Nine and she was Nine-A. I slipped so many times and called her by name. You heard me, but you pretended you didn’t. If you had brought this to a head a while back, I would have cut and run in the middle of the night.”
“And now?” Sam held his breath waiting for her response.
“I don’t know, Sam, I just don’t know. I guess I have to stay put until I can reach Boots. She’s my on-line counselor.”
“And then?”
“Then I guess I’m on my own. They’ll take away the credentials, tell me to leave. I’ll have to give back the money they lent me.”
“You could marry me. You’d have a new name. I have enough money in the bank for a down payment on a little house somewhere. You can get a new identity as my wife.”
“Sam, that is so nice of you, but I can’t marry you. I’m not divorced. You see, my . . . husband is one of those computer wizards, among other things. Divorces are a matter of public record. He’d find out some way, somehow. It was better to simply disappear and let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Who’s next in command after Boots? Can’t you go to that person?”
“I don’t know who that person is. Besides, questions were taboo. The rules say I have to wait for someone from the Isabel Tyger Foundation to contact me. That’s the procedure. I betrayed the very people who helped me. It’s unacceptable.”
“Will you relax? I am not going to tell anyone. I am not going to put any moves on you. I am not going to call you Helen in public, and I am not going to refer to your dog as Lucie. Read my lips, Helen; no one knows you said a word but the two of us. You are still safe. Nothing has really changed. Why don’t you check your e-mail and see if Boots has contacted you today?”
“I did check it, right before you came over. I’ll go on-line at eleven since that’s my scheduled time. I log on and then log off. When you came in you were excited. What happened?”
“Your web page is finished. Les called me and wanted me to tell you. I brought wine to celebrate.”
“Oh.”
“That’s it, oh!”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I can’t get excited since I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. How am I going to operate an on-line business if I’m on the run? It was a good idea, but now I don’t think it’s going to work. With the situation the way it is, I can’t make a commitment to a new business.”
“Why don’t you check it out just for the hell of it? You might even have some orders since the site has been up and running for a few hours. Personally, I can’t wait to see it.”
Helen turned on the computer. “Did Les give you the address?”
“Yep. It is www.sassielassie.com. All lowercase. Les said as he added some music for effect.”
“Oh my God!” Helen squealed. “Look at that!”
“I’m lookin’, I’m lookin’.” Sam grinned. “What does . . . ah . . . that little number with the feathers go for?”
“Seventy-five bucks,” Helen said. “A lot of stitches go into it. Feathers are hard to attach.”
“Uh-huh. Do you have any . . . ah . . . samples?”
“A whole box. It comes in white, black, and red,” Helen said, scrolling down the screen with her mouse. “This is really fantastic. Les did a wonderful job. The music is . . . sensational. Don’t they play that kind of music in strip joints?”
“You’re asking me? You know what they say about accountants and professors who teach the subject. Remember the lady with the galoshes? We are supposedly the most boring people on earth. My answer is, I don’t know.”
“All those feathers! All those fluffy clouds. I guess this is the ethereal page. The stuff really looks demure, chaste, kind of virginal,” Helen said thoughtfully.
“Helen, there is nothing demure about a garter belt trimmed in lace. Fishnet stockings are not virginal even if they’re white. Ask any man. What’s with those strappy, spike-heeled shoes? I didn’t know you sold shoes, too!”
“I don’t. I don’t sell stockings either. We just put them in for effect. Then again, it might pay me to buy some accessories. Tell me something, Sam. If you clicked onto this web page, and if you were married or had a serious girlfriend, would you be tempted to order something?”
Sam sat back in his chair and leered at Helen. “I would order one of everything! Didn’t you tell me you were going to show me a sample? Let’s see the real thing.”
Helen got up to rummage through the boxes in the living room. For the moment she forgot about her personal troubles in her excitement. “What color?”
“Back,” Sam shot back.
Helen stood up, her right hand twirling the filmy garment in the air. A feather worked loose and sailed upward. Both dogs watched it curiously but no more curiously than their owners.
“Oh yes, I could see that being a best-seller,” Sam drawled. “How about modeling it for me?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not . . . what I mean is . . . I don’t wear this kind of stuff. I just plan on selling it. Maybe some other time.”
“I’d like to make love to you,” Sam blurted.
Helen licked at her dry lips. “It’s been . . . I don’t know if . . .”
“It’s like riding a bike. It all comes back to you. Trust me,” Sam said breathlessly.
“The dogs?”
“They stay out here, we go in there. We close the door. Simple, eh?”
Before she could say yes or no, Sam swept her into his arms and was carrying her into the bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his foot.
“You feel something for me, I know you do,” Sam murmured against her hair. He turned her gently to face him and then began to nibble at the base of her throat, his hands working beneath the opening of her skirt. “Do you like it when I touch you here?” His fingers skimmed lightly over the smooth skin of her inner thigh. “And here?” His lips blazed a trail to the satin-smooth valley between her breasts.
He nuzzled the pulse spot at the base of her throat, feeling it race beneath his lips. He wanted her, wanted to feel her skin warm beneath his hands. He could already anticipate her passion. Each curve and hollow of her body beckoned to his lips and hands. Her long dark hair twined through his fingers as he turned her to face him. When his mouth claimed hers, she welcomed him feverishly. He deepened his kiss, searching for an answering r
esponse. It came when he whispered her name, when his fingers gentled on her flesh, when he breathed his need for her. Then, with a little moan, like the sound of a stricken child, she turned into his embrace, offering her mouth to his, yielding beneath his touch.
Suddenly she was naked, the last obstacle between his hands and her body had been discarded. He took her hands in his and placed them on his belt, invoking her without words. His jeans fell away beneath her fingers; she left his newly exposed flesh warm from her kisses, continuing until he was as naked as she was. Their passions rose like the wildness of a summer storm, hungry mouths searching, feverish hands touching.
They tore at each other, each seeking what only the other could give. There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, only the here and now. And when their passion had abated, lips swollen from loving and bodies glistening with the sheen of desire, they lay in one another’s arms glorying in the journey they had shared. Kiss-softened mouths, tender exploring caresses, bodies still warm from passion’s fever, they basked in the afterglow of a moment only two could share.
“Sam,” Helen whispered.
“What?” Sam whispered in return.
“I didn’t know . . . I never . . . It was never like that before. Sam, I love you. There, I said it. I’ve been wanting to say those words for months, but I was afraid. I love you. Sometimes love hurts when you can’t do anything about it. I’m glad you pushed me into telling you everything. I’m so tired. Are you tired, Sam?”
“Worn to a frazzle. Let’s take a little nap.”
“Oh, that sounds so good. The best part will be waking up next to each other. Stay the night, Sam.”
“You’d have to drag me kicking and screaming to get me out of here. I’m staying.”
Helen snuggled into the crook of Sam’s arms.
The lovers slept peacefully and dreamlessly.
It was two o’clock in the morning when Helen took her place at the dining-area table, her eyes sparkling. “Well? Do you think this model will sell?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.
What You Wish For Page 11
