by Raine Thomas
She locked the door behind her and slowly made her way over to the sofa. Although he hated to admit it, he didn’t even have enough energy to get up and help her. When she reached him, she set her cell phone on the arm of the sofa and sank down next to him. He mustered up the strength to lift his arm so she could lie against him. She did so, bringing her slippered feet up to rest on the cushion beside her.
“So…that was an adventure,” she said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Yeah. I think I threw up my spleen.”
They watched the game for a few minutes in silence. He couldn’t deny that he felt better just having her there.
“Pizza next time?” she suggested.
He tightened his hold around her shoulders. “Pizza’s always good,” he said.
Chapter 18
At eight o’clock the next morning, Sierra’s cell phone buzzed. She blinked awake and looked around, disoriented. She realized she was on top of Evan on the sofa. They’d fallen asleep before the game ended. The television was still on, the volume turned low.
Easing off of him, she picked up her phone and read the Caller ID. Her thumb pressed the accept button as she rose and walked away from the sofa to try to avoid waking Evan.
“Hi, Mom,” she said.
Regina’s voice came through the line. “Good mornin’, honey. How’re you feelin’?”
She considered her answer as she leaned against the kitchen counter. Her muscle aches had gone away and her fever had broken the day before. The night of rest had done wonders.
“I’m good. Thanks again for coming out yesterday. Evan and I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”
“Just remember that I like yellow roses the next time you visit,” Regina said.
Knowing her mom was teasing, Sierra smiled. She’d bring several bouquets with her.
“You got it,” she said.
“Can you take today to recover, too?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’ve got a shoot in a couple of hours that took forever to schedule and it pays well. As long as I only drink some of that broth for breakfast, I should be able to make it through.”
“All right. We’ll bring the dogs back later. They did just fine last night.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“Love you, too, darlin’.”
Clicking off, she walked back to the sofa. She covered Evan with her blanket, then kissed him lightly on the forehead. She was happy that his color had returned and his skin wasn’t hot or clammy. It looked like they’d both gotten it out of their systems, thank God.
Her moms had left more of the broth at her apartment, so when she got home, she heated some up for herself and drank it while standing in front of her kitchen window. It was nice to look at the sunlight without feeling like it was melting her eyeballs.
Since the illness had dehydrated her, she decided to drink some water, too. She then hit the shower and got changed into a short-sleeved summery blouse and khaki capris.
Loading up her camera bag and double-checking the directions to her appointment, she headed down to the parking lot. She’d inherited her older sister, Lane’s, first car once she left for med school. It was an eight-year-old white Pontiac Sunfire that still ran well. She kept up with the maintenance on it, not wanting to have to incur a monthly car payment.
It was Saturday, so the drive up GA-400 only took her about thirty minutes. She was heading to Matt Jensen’s home to do family portraits. Since she’d had to work around his surgery for the meniscus tear, this appointment had taken some time to schedule. Matt’s wife, Nancy, wanted the portraits for their fifteenth wedding anniversary the following month, so Sierra hadn’t wanted to push the appointment any further out.
She pulled up to the guard gate and produced her driver’s license. Once she was given clearance to drive through, she followed the instructions provided by Nancy until she reached a large, two-story brick home with a freshly-mown front lawn and long, curving driveway. It was beautiful, though it resembled most of the homes in the neighborhood and didn’t have a lot of character.
She rang the bell and waited until the door was answered by a woman wearing an apron. The housekeeper, she guessed.
“Ms. Stratton, please come in. The family is waiting in the front parlor.”
“Thanks.”
Following the housekeeper, Sierra glanced around as she walked so she could get more of a feel for the family. It would help her during the shoot to know if they were easy-going or formal, traditional or contemporary. Judging by the expensive furnishings, lack of toys or clutter on the floor, and the well put-together tone of the rooms, she was going with formal and traditional.
The parlor was framed with pretty French doors, which sat open. When the housekeeper waved Sierra inside, she saw two boys wearing navy blue suits and red ties sitting on a chaise playing handheld video games with ear buds. One of them looked about eight and the other a couple of years older.
Nancy Jensen sat at an antique secretary’s desk, a cell phone to her ear. She turned and held a finger up at Sierra as she finished her conversation. Sierra smiled and nodded to let her know it wasn’t a problem.
To give Nancy a little more privacy, she stepped back out into the hallway. She thought it would be a good idea to do some exploring to identify the perfect spot for the portraits. Rounding a bend in the hallway, she passed another open doorway.
“Sierra?”
She backed up and looked into the room where she’d heard the voice. It was a study, she realized as she saw the gleaming wood desk and shelves of books lining the walls. Matt Jensen rose from the leather chair where he’d been sitting. He wore a suit and tie similar to his sons’. Definitely custom-made, she thought. His brown hair was carefully styled, held in place by some kind of gel.
“I thought we were meeting you in the parlor in a few minutes,” he said as he approached with his hand extended.
He was walking—well, limping—on his injured leg without crutches or any kind of assistive device. From what Sierra had gleaned from Everly, she knew that would hinder his healing. It had to hurt like hell, too. His choice, she supposed.
Shaking his hand, she smiled and said, “I’m a little early. Mrs. Jensen was on the phone and I didn’t want to interrupt her. I thought I could scope out the best spot for the photos. I hope that’s okay.”
He held her hand a moment longer than was appropriate. “That makes sense. I wanted to chat with you, so this works out well.”
Moving past her, he closed the door. Her smile faded. Unlike the French doors on the parlor, the study’s door was solid wood, ensuring privacy. Her hand tightened on the strap of her camera bag as he turned back to her.
His brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, but that didn’t lend any sense of joviality to his face. There was a hint of silver forming in his hair at the temples. She remembered her aunt mentioning that he was self-conscious about his age. He was only thirty-seven, but that just about put him out to pasture in the game of baseball.
“I’m glad you kept the appointment today,” he said. “I was afraid I might have scared you off.”
Taking a subtle step away from him, she repeated, “Scared me off?”
“With my comment when I met you outside of your aunt’s office.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t read the look in his eyes, and swallowed hard when he moved closer. “Hey, no big deal.”
“I had no idea who you were,” he explained, “or that Nancy had scheduled this shoot with you.”
This felt wrong. He stood too close and his eyes didn’t stay on hers, drifting frequently down to her chest. She also clued into the fact that he didn’t seem to consider his flirting as inappropriate. He wasn’t exactly apologizing.
“Water under the bridge, Mr. Jensen,” she said with a forced smile.
He reached out to touch her shoulder. “Please, call me Matt. Mr. Jensen is my father.”
“Yeah, okay.” She stepped away, cl
oser to the door. “We should get back to the parlor. Your wife is probably wondering where I ran off to.”
“Don’t worry about Nancy,” he said, this time reaching up and brushing a curl away from her face. “We have an understanding.”
His tone and the intimate nature of his touch made her stomach pitch. Every instinct had her wanting to run from the study and the house, but she really needed the money she would earn from this shoot.
She’d been flirted with before, she reminded herself, both by older men and by married men. Of course, she’d always felt it was harmless. This didn’t feel harmless.
“I know the look in your eye, Blondie,” he said, once again closing the distance between them. “You’ve wanted me from the moment you first saw me. Well, I’m letting you know that you can have me.”
Her back hit the wall. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jensen. I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I’m—”
He surged forward, pressing her against the wall and kissing her. His lips crushed hers hard enough that her lip sliced open on his teeth. She tasted her own blood. His hands squeezed her breasts, hurting her. Stitching tore at her shoulder where he tugged at her blouse. He pressed his groin against her leg so she felt the hard length of him.
The shock of the attack held her paralyzed for a long moment. Finally, she reacted, reaching up and raking his neck with her nails.
“You bitch!” he hissed, breaking away from her. “You’ll pay for that.”
She didn’t bother trying to reason with him. Racing to the door, she flung it open, almost running into Nancy Jensen.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “What are you doing in here, Ms. Stratton?”
“I—I—” Sierra couldn’t form a coherent response.
“The photographer you hired just came onto me, that’s what’s going on,” Matt sneered. “The little slut thinks I’ll overlook the fact that I’m happily married so she can take me for a ride.”
“What?” Nancy’s eyes went wide. She brought a hand to her chest. “How could you? Get out of my house!”
“Mrs. Jensen, I didn’t—”
“Don’t listen to a thing this gold-digging bitch says,” Matt ordered.
“Out!” Nancy shouted in Sierra’s face. “If I have anything to say about it, you’ll never get another photography job in this city. You’re lucky we’re not pressing charges.”
Shaking, Sierra clutched her bag closer to her body and rushed out of the study, making a beeline for the front door. She ran to her car. Her hands trembled so hard that she dropped the keys twice before she managed to get the door open. She dropped them again once she was behind the wheel.
Finally, she jammed the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. She backed out of the driveway so fast she missed the sloped end of the driveway and hit the curb. It made an awful sound to the car’s undercarriage, but she didn’t care.
Her grip on the steering wheel had her hands aching by the time she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. She didn’t remember a single mile of the drive there.
Home. That’s all that ran through her head. Just get home.
She walked through the lobby without addressing Oliver’s greeting, intent on getting to her apartment. She needed the sense of security that came with being home. Only then could she fall apart.
When the elevator doors opened on her floor, Evan stood there. He lowered the sunglasses covering his eyes and stared at her.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.
Well, she supposed this was close enough to home.
Not bothering to respond, she threw her arms around him and burst into tears.
Chapter 19
Though it took some doing, Evan got Sierra into her apartment so they weren’t standing out in the hall. They stood in her foyer instead. He felt intense tremors coursing through her small body as she pressed against him. He wanted to soothe her, to somehow ease her pain, but he was way out of his element.
He was used to seeing her bright smile. He was used to her positive, sunshine-like energy. He was used to her making others feel better…giving at least one of them a reason to get up every day.
He’d just learned that seeing her cry could bring him to his knees.
Not knowing what to do or say, he just held her. His mind ran through various scenarios that would result in her having a bloody, swollen lip and a torn blouse, scenarios that could upset her to this extent.
There was only one that made sense.
“Sierra, did someone do this to you?” he asked.
He took the increased volume of her next sob as a yes. Anger spread like flames in his chest. But he knew he needed to focus since it was pretty clear she couldn’t.
Trying to keep his tone matter-of-fact, he asked, “Did he…were you…?”
Jesus, he couldn’t even get the question out. She squeezed him harder.
Briefly closing his eyes, he forced himself to get a grip. She needed him right now. He could deal with his own reactions later.
“Sierra, if you were raped, we need to call the police right now. You need to—”
She shook her head. He didn’t know if she was refusing to call the police or saying that she hadn’t been raped.
Cursing under his breath, he picked her up and carried her to the sofa. He started to put her down, then sat with her in his lap when she refused to let go. Once they were seated, he lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
The story came out in a hitched jumble, but he managed to piece it together. She had gone to a photo shoot at a family’s home. The husband had cornered her in his study, where he’d proceeded to force himself on her. She managed to fight him off before he could accomplish his goal. The wife found them and the husband lied, making Sierra out to be the aggressor. Now her career was in jeopardy.
It took him a couple of minutes to get past his black fury enough to think about what needed to be done. By then, her sobs had diminished to the occasional shudder.
“You should contact the police,” he said at last.
“It’s not that easy,” she whispered.
“Yes, it is. You’ve got the bastard’s skin under your fingernails. You’ve got blood all over your face. He tore your clothes, for God’s sake.”
She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. “Evan, it’s my word against his. He can spin it any way he wants. He could say I got injured and my clothes got torn when he tried to fend me off. He could say I got angry when he refused me, and I scratched him because of it.”
“Bullshit.”
“You know as well as I do that it would be a waste of time.”
“I sure as hell don’t. The fucker should rot in a cell.”
She lowered her head. He saw the tears pool in her eyes again, though. His jaw clenched.
“He’d never spend a day in a cell,” she said quietly. “Guys like him lawyer up and the victim is always made out to be some psycho looking for free publicity.”
He stiffened as her words sank in. “Sierra, is this guy well-known?”
She didn’t reply.
His tone was deceptively calm when he asked, “Do I know him?”
Again, he was met with silence. He somehow sensed he was right. He also knew she wasn’t going to tell him who it was.
Not yet anyway.
“Shit,” he murmured. “I’m calling your parents.”
She nodded and shifted so she sat beside him rather than on top of him. Her hands were folded in her lap, her head bowed. Occasionally, tears dripped onto her hands. He watched her carefully as he talked to Regina and got her assurance they would be there soon.
When he ended the call with her, he called Cole, whom he was supposed to have met for lunch ten minutes ago. He told his friend he wasn’t going to make it and that he’d meet him at the stadium. Fortunately, Cole must have read enough in his tone that he didn’t ask questions.
&
nbsp; “I’m sorry I interrupted your plans,” Sierra said when he hung up.
“Don’t you dare apologize.”
The words sounded harsher than he’d meant them, but she seemed to understand that his anger wasn’t directed at her. She nodded again.
“I got blood on your shirt,” she said.
“It’ll come out.” He looked at her cut lip, which had reopened. “We should put something on that.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I want to take a shower first. Will you stay here until my moms get here?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you, Evan.”
Her fingertips brushed his cheek. She stood up and disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Getting to his feet, he started pacing. Sierra was convinced that the wife of the son of a bitch who attacked her was going to do something to ruin her career. There was no way he was going to just stand aside and let that happen.
He didn’t understand her reluctance to tell him who it was, except to think that she was trying to protect him. That was certainly in keeping with what he knew about her. Maybe she suspected that he’d confront the asshole and she was worried it would somehow impact his career.
He’d work on getting the name from her later. Once she had calmed down and talked with her moms, she’d be more reasonable. He’d assure her she had nothing to worry about.
There were plenty of ways to confront people outside of the public eye, after all.
* * *
“So, what happened?” Cole asked him when they met up in the locker room before the game. “First you agree to meet me for lunch so you can tell me why you missed the game yesterday, then you miss lunch. I’m starting to take it personally.”
“Let’s go, Parker,” one of the coaches called out. “Stretch time. Everyone else is already on the field. Dorsey, you might be riding the bench tonight, but you need to stick to the routine. Head out, you two.”
