by Brenda Hill
At the top of the stairs, four closed doors stood off the landing. I headed for the closest one then hesitated. Something wasn’t right. If it were an agent previewing, at least one of the doors would be open. Feeling spooked, I turned to go back to the steps when the last far door opened. Rick grinned at me with that infuriating smirk of his and leaned in the doorway.
Oh no, not him. Not now.
“Don’t go now,” he said, folding his arms over his chest.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, baby. We have some unfinished business.”
“No, we don’t.” I tried to sound confident but his sudden appearance shook me. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his silk tie hung loose. And was that alcohol I smelled? He stared at me through half-closed lids, smiling that cocksure smile as if to suggest he knew something juicy that I couldn’t even guess.
“I have a showing scheduled,” I told him, my heart thumping, as I backed slowly toward the stairs. “They should be here any time.”
“Oh, I know.” Rick straightened and rocked back on his heels. He grabbed the doorjamb for support. “Ed told me.” He took a step toward me.
“Why would he do that?” I eased back another step, feeling like a field mouse stalked by a snake, afraid to attract attention by running.
“I asked. Told him I needed to give you something.” He started toward me. “And you know good ol’ Ed, he’ll tell you anything.”
I risked a quick look at the stairs. Could I manage to get down them without him catching me?
Rick grinned. “I got something for you,” he said, slowly advancing toward me, creeping like it was a game. “Something really good.”
Could I make it down the stairs, or should I make a dash for the first room and wait for Terry?
“Your husband was sick for so long,” Rick said, strolling toward me, that stupid grin plastered on his face, “you gotta be panting for it.”
I bolted for the door and slammed it behind me, pushing against it while searching for a lock. Nothing but an old-fashion keyhole and no key.
“Rick, please,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice, “my clients will be here any minute.”
He laughed. “We can have lots of fun before that.”
He twisted the knob and pushed on the door. It opened a crack and I put my shoulder to it, using my feet as leverage. He pushed again and I realized that, even drunk, he was stronger than I. Flinging the door open, he shoved me against the wall, his hands grabbing my breasts, my buttocks.
“Come on, Missy Prissy, you know the score.” His breath smelled sour. I felt his hardness pressing against me.
“You’re drunk,” I said. “Please don’t do this.” Frantically, I pushed against him, but he had me pinned so tight that I couldn’t get my knee up.
Where were Terry and Betty? Hurry, I begged silently.
“Pretty little widow, you need some lovin’,” Rick muttered and mashed his mouth against mine.
From outside I heard a car door slam. Terry? Oh please let it be him. I had to get Rick off of me and get to Terry. Clutching my heavy leather briefcase, I swung it with all my might at Rick’s head. He reeled back and I dashed for the door.
“Help!” I yelled. “Up here!”
“Bitch!” Rick shouted. “You goddamned cunt!”
Just as I reached the top of the stairs, I stumbled on the warped floorboard and lost my balance. My briefcase went tumbling down the stairs. Just before I followed, I felt a hard yank on my jacket and was jerked back and slammed against the wall. Before I could do anything but take a ragged breath, Rick plastered himself against me, smothering me with his body. I beat my fist on his head, his back, any place I could reach. It was as if I were fighting air as he didn’t even react. Clawing again, I went for his face. He grabbed my hands and held them over my head.
“You wanna play silly games? You go right ahead, sweetheart. I kinda like them.” He wiggled against me, pressing his groin into mine, and I could feel his erection through his trousers. I squirmed and kicked and tried to bite his lips, his face.
When I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway, I screamed. Terry burst into the room.
“What the hell?” Grabbing Rick by the shoulder, he pulled him away from me and drew a fist.
My trembling legs folded and I slid to the floor.
“No! Not my face!” Rick yelled just as Terry threw the punch. Rick’s head flew back, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Slowly, almost gracefully, he crumpled over and went down. Leaning over him, Terry pressed two fingers on his throat, then yanked off his tie, flipped him over, and bound his hands. Then, rubbing his knuckles, he stepped over him to me.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, offering a hand to help me to my feet.
“I’m okay.” I took his hand. But when I tried to stand, my legs gave way. Terry grabbed me, wrapping his arms around me. Suddenly, I started to shiver and my teeth clattered.
“Here,” he said, briskly running his hands up and down my arms. “Just a little reaction. You’ll be good as new.”
As I began to feel warm again, my teeth stopped clacking. Terry simply held me, offering the comfort and security of his body. I gradually relaxed and let the warmth of his arms calm me. It did feel good.
When my brain quit clattering, I realized I’d let more people hold me in the past month than I’d had in my entire life.
Horribly embarrassed, I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks for your help,” I mumbled. “I was sure glad to see you come through that door.”
“That makes it all worth it.”
“I think I can manage now. You can let loose.”
“Well, darn. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice my arms around you. At least not right away.”
“I noticed.”
When he let me go I saw the amusement in his deep sapphire eyes. And he looked nice in a charcoal pullover and matching corduroy slacks. He was, I had to admit, an extremely handsome man. He reminded me of Kenny Rogers in his heyday. Just a few years older.
Terry smoothed back his silver hair, and I noticed his knuckles looked red and swollen. I hoped they weren’t broken.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. I boxed a little in the service.” He glanced at Rick. “Who is he?”
I told him what little I knew.
“Plenty of guys like him out there,” Terry said. “Too bad, though, makes it harder for the rest of us.”
“The rest of you?”
“Nice guys like me, I mean,” he added with a grin.
“Are you a nice guy?” I asked quietly.
“I’m hoping you’ll take the time to find out.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Before I could respond, he took my arm.
“Let’s get you out of here before that joker wakes up.”
“We’d better call the paramedics.”
“Don’t waste your time worrying about him. I didn’t hit him that hard.”
“But he’s out cold. Something might be wrong.”
“He’s just sleeping off a drunk, but if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call.” He took his cell phone from his shirt pocket and called 9-1-1, giving them the information. He tucked the phone back into his pocket. “We’re leaving.”
“We can’t just leave him tied up.”
“Sure we can. He can work himself free.”
I wasn’t as positive about that, but Terry hustled me out the door. As we descended the stairs, I observed that for a man around fifty, he moved easily.
He must have noticed my look. “My line of work was physically demanding. Kept me limber.”
Just as I was about to ask what he had done for a living, I realized the implications of what he said and my face flamed. Good God, I hoped he didn’t think I was admiring him.
About halfway down the stairs, I came to a halt. “Wait a minute. Where’s Betty? Wasn’t she supposed to be here?”
He looked chagrined. “As you probably gue
ssed by now, I just said that to get you to meet me.”
“That was a shitty thing to do.”
He turned to me, his eyes capturing and holding mine with an intensity I’d never experienced before. “I had to see you and this seemed the only way.”
I should have been furious, but for some ungodly reason, my anger faded. My mouth went dry. I don’t know how long we stared into each other’s eyes, but some shred of sanity returned and I broke the gaze.
“I can’t do this,” I managed, my voice almost a croak. What was wrong with me? I’d never reacted like that in my entire life.
“Do what? Show a house to a client?”
“We both know you have more than that in mind.”
“I sure hope so.”
What was it about this man that he could leave me speechless? And I did feel a softening toward him, but that was only because of what he’d done for me. Of course it was, wasn’t it?
But no matter. I didn’t think I should work with him without Betty present. I didn’t want to give him any reason to think I was available for anything other than real estate.
At the bottom of the stairs, Terry suggested we go for a drink. “It’ll settle you down.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Nothing? No wine, no colas, nothing?”
“Well, perhaps an occasional glass of wine.”
“Wine sounds great.”
“Too early in the day for me.”
Terry smiled, a sort of a half-grin, and I suddenly felt like a ridiculous prude. And I was thirsty.
“Okay, perhaps some coffee, or iced tea would be nice.”
“Looks like I’m going to enjoy loosening you up,” Terry said, his eyes full of amusement.
I stopped abruptly. “You’re not going to do anything with me!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
The expression on his face reminded me of the way Shanna used to look when I caught her doing something she shouldn’t. I couldn’t help but feel a little softening toward him, especially after what he’d done for me. When he offered his arm again, I took it.
I had the strangest feeling that this man, who was practically a stranger, actually cared about me. I hadn’t had that feeling very often.
Stopping short, I blinked. Of all the silly notions. Of course people cared. I’d had a husband, still had a daughter, and there was Stan and Maggie. Where did I get such a ridiculous idea?
“Anything wrong?” Terry asked.
“No, I—” Suddenly, without knowing exactly how it had happened, I was in his arms, cradled so gently that for a moment, I didn’t move. A curious warmth begin in my toes, the tiniest tingle such as I hadn’t felt in years.
“God, you smell so good.” He buried his face in my neck.
Embarrassed, I pushed against him and he released me at once.
“Really,” I said, trying not to reveal how flustered I felt, “if that’s how you’re going to be, we can just forget the drink.”
He grinned and I wanted to slap him. “I’m a perfect gentleman,” he said.
“You’re a perfect something. I’m just not sure what that is.”
Terry laughed, a warm, hearty laugh that had I not been annoyed, I would have enjoyed hearing.
“How about that drink?” he asked.
I glanced at my rumpled pantsuit. “I shouldn’t go anywhere. I look a mess.”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you look pretty in blue? But then, you’d be pretty in anything. Or without anything, for that matter.”
Jerking my arm from his grasp, I was ready to make a scathing remark until I saw the way he was looking at me, not as though he were a man on the make, but as someone who was just stating something they believed. Warmth flooded my face and slid all the way down to my toes.
Oh, God, what was happening here? And what was wrong with me?
“Since you’re still a little shaky,” he said, “why don’t I drive. Then afterwards, I’ll bring you back to your car. After some time away from here and something to drink, you’ll be in better condition to drive home. Or wherever you want to go.”
Without another word he guided me to his Lexus, supporting me as if I were the most delicate creature on earth.
For most of my life I’d made a conscious effort to always be sufficient and strong, and that meant I had to keep my emotions under constant control. I’d never been allowed to show anger, not with my stepfather, certainly not with Mac. The few times in my marriage I’d raised my voice, Mac hadn’t said much; he’d simply stared at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted two heads and then he’d disappear into his den and wouldn’t speak to me for several days. I’d feel so guilty and miserable that I always ended up apologizing and begging his forgiveness.
Now this man, this strange man who seemed to delight in the sassy, uninhibited woman I'd never allowed myself to be, suddenly made me feel acceptable, like something precious. And I wasn’t sure how to react.
Chapter Ten
After the server took our orders, Terry slid next to me in the booth, so close I could feel the heat from his body. I scooted to the edge.
“Perfect,” he said, again sliding next to me. “Now there’s no place for you to go.”
“If you don’t get up and sit across from me, I’m going to leave.”
“You can’t leave because I drove you.” He looked so pleased with himself that I wanted to slug him.
“I knew I shouldn’t have allowed that,” I told him, glancing around the room. “I can always call a taxi.” Since it was past the noon hour, the family restaurant had a few stragglers, but there were several vacant tables. One table for four sat right in front of our booth. I grabbed my handbag and moved to the table, taking the chair with my back to Terry.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
Ignoring him, I glanced over the menu as if I intended to order something more.
“Look,” he called out, “I moved.”
Peeking over the top of the menu to see if anyone was looking, I saw that we had attracted the attention of two middle-aged women. Both were smiling.
“Returrrrnnn to meeee,” Terry sang to the tune of the old Dean Martin song.
Oh, my God. I twisted around. “Will you please shut up?”
“You don’t like my singing? I’m crushed. I thought I had a good voice. Maybe you didn’t hear enough.” He immediately went into another verse, only this time he sang louder.
Who could I call to pick me up? I didn’t want to bother Stan over this. Damn, how could I have been so stupid? Maggie. She’d come to get me. But then, she’d never let me forget it. Calling a taxi seemed to be my only alternative.
The server brought our drinks, briefly hesitating when she saw me sitting alone at the table. Placing Terry’s coffee in front of him, she turned to my table to serve my iced tea.
“Lover’s spat,” Terry told her in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
The heat rose in my face. Good God, what was wrong with the man? And what insane notion made me agree to this farce?
“We’re not lovers,” I corrected, ignoring Terry. “We haven’t been to bed together,” I blurted. Then, horrified at what I’d said, I sunk even lower in the chair.
She smiled and even had the effrontery to wink at me before making her way to a noisy family of five.
I pulled my cell phone from my handbag and punched in Maggie’s number. Nothing happened, so I tried again. The damn thing wasn’t working. Of all times....
“Lisa,” Terry said, his voice soft, “please join me.”
Once again I grabbed my handbag and stood, almost tripping over the chair in my haste to leave. I hurried to the cashier and asked for the pay phone. Following her pointing finger, I made my way to the phone, Terry at my heels.
“Please don't leave.” Terry covered the coin slot with his hand. “I apologize if I’m acting like an idiot, but you see, I don’t have much time. I have to make yo
u understand.”
“I understand all right. You’re a newly-divorced man on the prowl. For some reason, perhaps because I’m a recent widow, you thought I’d be an easy mark. Well, think again. I may have been stupid enough to come here with you, but I’m not stupid enough to stay.” Rummaging in the bottom of my handbag, I found nothing but an old stick of gum wrapped in a lint ball.
“Damn!” Spinning around, I headed for the cashier.
“Lisa, please wait.” Something in Terry’s voice tugged at me. I don’t know why. Thank God no one was sitting in this section of the restaurant; I already felt like a fool.
“I’ll give you three minutes.”
He started toward me.
“Stay right there,” I told him.
He halted. The look on his face seemed so plaintive that I actually felt sorry for him.
“Lisa, please let me talk to you,” he said with a desperation I didn’t understand. “I’ll be a gentleman, I promise, and I’ll keep my distance. But I don’t have much time, and what’s left I want to spend with you.” He didn’t move, except to offer me his hand, silently imploring me to take it.
My heart melted and I took his hand. Perhaps I wanted to know what he meant about not much time. Or maybe it was the expression in his eyes when he looked at me. Whatever it was, I allowed him to lead me back to the booth.
Once seated, the server brought fresh drinks and I found myself doubting what I had done. What in God’s name was I doing there, sitting with a man who, no matter what he said, was clearly on the make? Why didn’t I just get up and leave? Getting home wasn’t an excuse; I could find a way if I truly wanted to leave.
I finally glanced at Terry. And oh my God, I wished I hadn’t. Even though I had never been a woman of much passion, I recognized the heat in Terry’s gaze.
Years ago on my twenty-first birthday, I’d wanted to do the coming of age tour, to walk into bars and clubs without worrying about being thrown out. Oh, I didn’t party like most people; I never liked drinking until my senses dulled and I stumbled over my own feet. Even today, I avoid people who can’t seem to stop. But I’d loved the idea of being recognized as an adult capable of making my own decisions. So, attracted by the bright neon lights and twangy country music, I’d march into a bar, look around, then go to another. Mac happily accompanied me, getting a kick out of the entire thing. Next I wanted to go to some nudie bars and an X-rated movie, to see what all the fuss was about. The first few minutes were fascinating; they actually showed, right on the screen, people in the sex act. It was remarkable and I watched, totally absorbed in seeing all the things I’d never even considered doing. But one time, while exiting the ladies’ room, I passed a man in the lobby whose heavy-lidded gaze raked over me with a hunger so profound that I made my way back to Mac and insisted we leave. Later, I realize that the passion wasn’t for me personally, but still, I never forgot it.
