by Lori Foster
"Are you going to spend the night with him again?"
She didn't bother asking which "him" he meant. "That's really none of your business and if you don't stop pestering me I'm going to have my calls traced."
He yelled, "You stay away from that businessman and I won't have to call!"
"Everyone seems to want to issue warnings to me today."
He was thrown by her words. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind. Inside joke. But tell me. I have been wondering and since you seem determined to keep calling, we may as well talk." She felt smug at the thought of his silent confusion. "How did you get Brent's phone number?"
"I saw the two of you together," he accused.
"Where?"
"At the shop, at your house."
His answers were smooth. Too smooth. And suspiciously smug. "So how did you know who he was?"
"I followed him back to his office. Once I knew his name, I looked up his number in the phone book."
Shadow felt a chill, but concealed it behind her cool manner. She was only just realizing that any threat to her extended to Brent as well. Maybe more so. "Why are you doing this? Why me? Was it something I said," she asked carefully, "when you entered the contest?"
He laughed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"That doesn't surprise me."
She actually felt his anger as he blustered into the phone. "He doesn't love you, you know. He won't be around forever. You can keep throwing yourself at him, keep chasing him, but it won't do you any good!"
Shadow hung up, his words too closely resembling her own thoughts and Joan's warning. She opened a file drawer and pulled out the phone book. Quickly flipping through the pages, she stopped at the Bs. Brent's name wasn't listed; he hadn't been in town long enough. How had this nut gotten the number?
Had he, at some point, been close enough to listen to one of their conversations? Shadow envisioned him hiding behind a bush, concealed by the heavy snow and the early winter darkness. She and Brent had had several talks on the walkway, both in front of her house and at the shop. It sent shivers down her spine to think of someone watching and listening so intently.
She couldn't let it affect her like this, making her paranoid. She forced herself to take a deep breath, to calm down. The police had told her that lots of people got strange calls. Usually it turned out to be nothing. She had taken precautions; he couldn't touch her, if that was even his plan.
She put on her coat and walked to the coffee shop. She was skittish, and as she walked, even in the light of day, she found herself looking all around, being overly cautious. It irritated her.
There were several friends at the coffee shop, different proprietors of the various businesses. The big talk over coffee was how the contest was faring. Shadow hadn't met the two men Brent sent to fill her quota. But the women were very enthusiastic about them. The men were described as successful, handsome and charming. The photographer was more than ready to brag that she had a date lined up with one of them already.
That sounded just a tad unethical to Shadow, but she didn't say so. After all, the shoppers would make the ultimate decision on the winner, not the shop owners.
When Shadow returned to her office, she called her mom. Thanksgiving was just around the corner so she made a last-minute check on what, if anything, she should bring. All that was required was herself. She dragged the conversation out for a good fifteen minutes, trying to distract herself from her worries, but she finally ran out of gossip and was forced to hang up.
She hesitated a few minutes, at loose ends as to what to do next. It was a given that she wouldn't accomplish any work. After a brief struggle with herself, she gave in and called Brent. His secretary, a very pleasant woman, announced he was busy in his office and not to be disturbed.
His office. The question came out without her mind's permission. "Is he with Joan?"
The secretary, Micky, was clearly surprised as she answered. "Yes, he's with Miss Howard. Were they expecting you?"
It took Shadow a moment to reply because she had to find a way to keep the screech out of her tone. Finally she said, "Nope. They're not expecting me."
"Oh. Well then, can I take a message?"
"Yes. Tell Brent, er, Mr. Bramwell, that I went home for the day."
"Yes, ma'am. And what is your name again?"
Shadow hung up without answering. Brent would know who the message was from. There was no need for her name to be announced to the secretary or possibly in front of Joan.
She didn't want to indulge in wicked imaginings, but her mind refused to listen to her, conjuring visions of Brent and Joan together. Shadow had never been jealous a day in her life. It had always been a foreign emotion to her, something other people suffered through insecurities and indecision. Her attitude had always been that if a man wasn't trustworthy you got rid of him.
Of course, she reminded herself, Brent was trustworthy. It was that she-devil Joan who couldn't be trusted. Brent was probably doing everything possible to put her off. Did he truly loathe Joan as he said, or was it possible she might seduce him?
Thoroughly disgusted with herself, Shadow threw on her coat and went out to the sales floor to announce to Kallie that she was leaving. Kallie looked at her with concern. "Are you all right? You look a little down."
Shadow laughed. "You're shocked by such a notion, Kallie?"
"Well, you're always so chipper. I don't remember ever seeing you looking quite so … glum."
"I think I've just been fed a good dose of reality, that's all. I'm sure I'll recover. But I am tired and I'm not doing a single constructive thing around here, so I might as well get out of your way."
"You be careful going home."
"I will. And you be careful locking up. Make certain you're not alone in the parking lot at night. Now that we have another helper, we should always leave here in twos."
Kallie agreed, then gave Shadow a hug. "Get a good night's sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
Shadow drove home by rote. Even the freezing chill of the air didn't faze her.
The sight of her house did, however. Shadow finally thought of something to do that would take her mind off Brent. She went in, using the remote control device so her alarm wouldn't sound, then turned off the system. She would be running in and out and didn't want to be bothered using the remote each time.
She changed into her oldest jeans and a baggy, well-worn sweatshirt that read Talk Is Cheap (But the Action Will Cost Ya'). She spent the next half hour shoveling snow off her porch and walk. It felt good to do physical work instead of sitting in her office; the exercise helped clear her mind. The day was so cold, not a single neighbor ventured outside and no cars drove by.
When she'd finished, she went inside and made herself a sandwich, with a glass of juice and two cookies for lunch. She sat at the table, pensive as she waited for Brent to phone. There was no doubt he would call. It was only a matter of when he finished with Joan.
She cringed at her own mental wording. Downing the last of the juice, she stood to leave the kitchen. She needed a hot shower to warm herself.
Outside, the wind blew, chasing snowflakes past the windows, rustling the trees, forming drifts around the yard. She heard the occasional creak and snap as the house settled. She realized how alone she was; she'd never felt lonely before, but now, without Brent, she did.
She recalled the security system, which she hadn't turned back on. She barely got it reset when her head started to swim. She stopped, flattening one hand on the wall. Her stomach pitched, churned. She forced herself to breathe slowly, but a heavy lethargy was settling in. It was just like the night she'd spent with Brent. She barely made it to the bathroom on time. Her stomach was completely empty before she could finally leave the toilet.
Wondering if she had the flu, she walked slowly into her bedroom and stripped off her clothes. After pulling on a short, thermal nightgown, she crawled beneath the covers and tried to find a co
mfortable position. She was about to doze off when the phone began ringing.
She thought, please, not again. Groaning, she leaned out of bed and picked up the receiver on the nightstand. Her voice was a hesitant croak. "Hello?"
"Why did you leave the shop without telling me first?" he demanded.
Shadow hung up on him. The last thing she wanted was to have Brent yelling at her.
He called back immediately. She picked up the receiver and he said, his voice low and mean, "I wouldn't suggest you do that again."
Shadow waited. Brent said, now more cautiously, "Shadow?"
"What?"
"Are you all right?"
"Yes. No, actually, I'm sick."
Trying for a more moderate tone, he asked, "Then why didn't you tell my secretary that when you called? You know I don't want you driving home alone."
"You were with Joan. I was having my first major bout of jealousy. I didn't want or need to get your approval to go home. And besides, I just got sick. I wasn't sick when I left."
There was a moment of silence while Brent digested everything she had just said. Without addressing any one issue, he said, "I'll be there in just a minute, honey."
"I might be catching," she said, thinking of the flu. This time he hung up on her. Shadow put her head under the pillow. It seemed like only minutes later that Brent was pounding on the front door.
* * *
"Wow. You look like hell. Are you okay?"
She glared at him. "Thanks, Brent. I needed to hear that."
Brent grinned at her disgruntled frown, watching as she walked, hunched over like an old woman, back to bed. He followed behind her. "What's the matter, honey?"
"I got really tired again and then sick to my stomach. Just out of the blue—ugh. I hate throwing up."
"Well, I can understand that." Brent helped her into the bed and under the covers, then he felt her head. "You don't have a fever. Did you eat anything bad?"
She shot him a venomous look through shadowed eyes. "If I knew it was bad, would I have eaten it?"
"Okay." He pursed his mouth to keep from grinning. She was so testy when she didn't feel well. "What have you eaten today?"
"Breakfast with you this morning. Then a sandwich and a couple of cookies just a little bit ago. That's all."
"What kind of sandwich?"
"Peanut butter. And no. The peanut butter wasn't bad."
Brent frowned. "I'm going to call the doctor."
"No, Brent, that's silly. I'm fine. I'm already starting to feel better. Not so weak."
Brent stared at her thoughtfully, his mind churning over possibilities. "What did you drink with your lunch?"
"Just some fruit juice."
"Is there any left?"
"In the fridge."
He stood. "I'm going to dump it just in case it's bad. I'll also make you a cup of hot tea. Does that sound good?"
Shadow nodded. "It's odd. But I feel almost hungry again."
"Do you have any canned soup I could warm up for you?"
She curled a fist under her pale cheek, looking beyond pathetic, then mumbled, "I don't want you waiting on me."
Her stubbornness passed all bounds. He said without a hint of a smile, "I'm still annoyed with you, sweetheart. Don't press your luck."
"All right!" she said, flopping onto her back and then groaning from the sudden movement. She put her hands over her eyes. "Make the damned soup. You can feed it to me, too, if you want. After all, I'm completely helpless, right? That is why you're angry? Because I did the unthinkable and came home on my own, actually driving myself! Why, it's unheard of! Scandalous!"
Brent retained his stern expression all through her theatrics. When she quieted, holding her belly and squinting in pain, he asked, "Are you through? Good. Now, I think I'll fix the soup, which you will feed to yourself, then you and I are going to straighten a few things out."
"You're not my boss, Brent Bramwell!" she called after him. "Why do I have to keep reminding you of that?" He didn't answer, and she added very quietly, for her own benefit, "You're not even my husband."
But Brent heard. "I will be," he stated firmly, loud and clear. "I've made up my mind, Shadow. And there's no way you're going to change it now."
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
"Are you done sulking?"
Shadow flashed him a narrow-eyed look filled with promised retribution. Brent only raised his left brow, waiting.
She set her soup bowl, now empty, on the nightstand. "I never before sulked in my life. I was never melancholy and I never, positively never suffered jealousy. There are definite side effects to loving you, Brent Bramwell. Unpleasant ones."
He grinned at her. "Then we're even. You've made me face up to a few unfamiliar feelings, too. Believe it or not, I've never been so protective, though the women I've known wanted someone to take care of them, to make their lives easier. You, on the other hand, are too open and friendly for your own good. You scare me to death."
"Scare you?" Shadow asked blankly.
"That's right. And fear is another emotion I'm not exactly used to dealing with. And possessiveness and this damned tenderness that nearly chokes me. On top of all that, I'm forever losing control around you, one way or another."
Shadow fiddled with the edge of the blanket, running the silken hem between her fingers. "Are we hopeless, then, do you think? Are you saying it's not worth it?"
Brent leaned forward intently until their noses nearly touched. "I'm not saying anything of the kind." He kissed the tip of her chin. "You expect me to label what I'm feeling, Shadow. But I've never felt it before, so how can I? I understand that you're impatient. You're filled with energy and excitement. You want to do everything now, right this minute. But I'm not that way. Believe it or not, I'm generally concise and controlled. Everything I do is well thought out and planned. But you have me jumping through hoops, making an ass of myself with great regularity. As far as carefully planning anything, I haven't had a peaceful moment to do that since I met you."
"It hasn't been very conventional, has it?" she asked. "Our time together, I mean. What with the phone calls, and then Joan showing up." She was silent a moment. "Have I really been rushing you so much?"
Brent laughed, chucking her chin. "You rush everything and everybody, honey. It's part of your personality. I've never known anyone whose mind worked so quickly, always changing directions, leaving me and everyone else in your dust."
She laughed. "Stop it, Brent. I'm not that bad."
"You're not bad at all. You're wonderful. And I'm enjoying every minute with you, chaotic as it may be. I want you to remember that, okay?" He rose to stand beside the bed. "Now, are you feeling better?" At her nod, he said, "Good. We have other things to talk about."
"You're back to sounding stern, Brent."
"I'm feeling particularly stern, too. It was foolish of you to leave the shop alone today. And don't think I didn't notice that you shoveled the walk. You left yourself out in the open, vulnerable, and all because you gave in to some completely unfounded and ridiculous notion of jealousy. I told you I didn't care a thing about Joan. I thought you trusted me. I thought you believed me."
Shadow stiffened dangerously. "Are you through?"
"No, I'm not. I feel like turning you over my knee."
"I'd like to see you try it." She looked mutinous, murderous, all one hundred twenty pounds of her. He bit back his pleased smile. God, he enjoyed her gumption.
"You scared me spitless, for no good reason. You acted selfishly, not caring how I might feel when I found out you'd gone home alone, how rejected I might feel."
She snorted at that obvious nonsense. Brent ignored her.
"I understand, what with your history with men, why you want to be independent. I respect that, too, because I know I wouldn't want to be dependent on anyone else. But sweetheart, there's such a thing as being too independent. Since I've decided we will marry—no, don't shake your head, I'm
confident I'll be able to wear you down—"
"Ha! Not by acting like an autocratic jerk."
"—I'm going to move in."
Shadow could only stare. "What?"
"You heard me. You won't come to my house, so I'm coming to yours. You're putting me through hell with your contrariness, and I can't take it anymore." He stared down at her, not blinking, then said again, "I gave you the option of moving in with me. You turned me down, so I'm moving in with you."
"No."
"Afraid so. If you don't want to sleep with me, I'll camp out on the couch. Or I'll open one of your rooms upstairs. But I'm going to be close so I'll know nothing can happen to you."
"My couch is too short for you and I told you those rooms upstairs haven't been touched since I bought the place. They're not even furnished."
His expression was wry. "I can afford to buy a damn bed."
"They're cold! You wouldn't be comfortable there."
"I'm sure as hell not comfortable sitting at home and worrying either." He added more softly, "I don't like to worry, Shadow. It's not something I've had much practice with. I don't think I do it particularly well. So I'm moving in."
It took Shadow a minute of silent consideration and then she grinned, totally confounding Brent. But that was okay, he was used to it by now.
"All right. You can stay here."
Brent hadn't realized how tense he'd been until she said that. He relaxed, letting out a held breath. His fists uncurled, opening as he smoothed his palms up and down his thighs. He realized she was watching him with a calculated gleam in her honey-colored eyes, and he nearly grimaced. Was a man ever in such desperate straits? And even more important, would he ever feel like himself again? His old self, the one he knew so well?
With forced aplomb, he managed a cocky grin and said to Shadow, "All right then. I'll go grab a few things and be back in under an hour. If you're up to it, why don't you make a grocery list for me? I want to buy some bottled water, anyway. It could be your cistern is contaminated, or the pipes in a house this old might be causing a water problem. That could be why you've been ill."
