Forever This Time

by Maggie McGinnis

  Then screamed.

  Chapter 12

  “Ethan!” Apparently he hadn’t left for the night yet. She closed her eyes in frustration. How had she not noticed the storeroom light was on?

  Startled, he turned from the shelf, a pile of notepads in his hand. “Don’t let the door clo—” He tried to leap for the door, but crashed into her wall of tulle as it clicked shut behind her. “Damn.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. I’ll go—somewhere else.” Preferably somewhere that doesn’t smell like your after-shave. Somewhere less private, so I won’t give in to this insane urge to run my fingers over your five o’clock shadow.

  “No you won’t.” He shook his head as he pointed at the door. “The lock’s broken.”

  Josie looked back in horror. “No way.” She rattled the handle, but nothing happened. It was locked fast.

  She had seriously pissed off the gods today. First the pond, then the dress, and now she was locked in a storeroom with the only man she—shouldn’t be locked in a storeroom with.

  “You can’t be serious.” She jiggled the handle again.

  “Dead serious.”

  “How long’s it been broken?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She sighed. “Let me guess. It’s been on Dad’s to-do list for about five years.”

  “Six.”

  “And no one else has ever gotten trapped in here?”

  “No one else has ever gotten trapped in here. Everybody else knows you don’t close the door.”

  Josie looked around the small space in vain. With shelves of office supplies on three sides and one buzzing fluorescent fixture for light, it was dim and smelled like ink and copy paper. And Ethan, dammit.

  He leaned back against the metal shelves, crossing his arms, as cool and calm as could be. Meanwhile, Josie could already feel her face flaming. “This place needs a window.”

  He smiled. “Why? So you could MacGyver your way out of it on a rope of Post-it notes?”

  “Is there a letter opener or something in here? Can we jigger the lock?”

  “You know how?”

  She looked down. “No. Not really. Can we call somebody? Who’s still here?”

  “Nobody. And my phone’s on my desk. Didn’t imagine I’d need it in the closet. Do you have yours?”

  Josie grimaced. “Mine’s in my purse. In the office.” She swallowed hard, bracing her throat with her hand in a vain attempt to hide her panic. Here she’d been skittering around for days trying to stay away from Ethan, and now she was trapped in a five-by-ten cell with the man … only hours after he’d had his hands on her, waking up a million nerve endings she’d forgotten she even had.

  She turned toward the shelf on her left, trying to break his gaze. There were six sizes of lined paper pads scattered in vague piles, so she started collecting the smallest ones into a neat stack. “You’re just trying to freak me out, right? We’re not seriously stuck in here, are we?”

  “I don’t know. Do you know of a secret passageway behind the toner cartridges?”

  “Can we, like, pop out a ceiling tile or something?” After the words were out, she looked up and realized the closet had a Sheetrock ceiling.

  He pointed upward. “No tiles.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

  He smiled. “What’s the matter, Josie? Afraid to be trapped in here with me?”

  “Nope.”

  He chuckled. “Right.”

  “Fine. Maybe. A little.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing. I’m not—afraid.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Maybe I’m claustrophobic.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I could be. You don’t know … anymore.”

  He tipped his head. “True. I don’t.” Then he uncrossed his arms and braced his hands casually on the shelf behind him. “Want to know why I think you’re afraid?”

  “No.”

  “Yes you do.”

  Dammit. Her face was flaming and she knew it. She looked at the door again, jiggled the handle again.

  “Still locked?”

  She growled quietly, her heartbeat whamming double-time in her ears. “You know it is. I can’t believe this.”

  “Tell me—are you more afraid that I’ll want to talk? Or that I won’t?”

  “What? I don’t know. Jeez, Ethan. Little awkward, don’t you think? We’ve hardly spoken ten words since Friday.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  She turned toward him. “Yours! You keep putting me on the schedule in these stupid costumes!”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “But you’re the one skulking into the office at the crack of dawn, then skipping out before I can catch you.”

  “I don’t skulk. Or skip. I’m just being—efficient.”

  “Gotcha.” He nodded again, taking a small step toward her, pointing at her. “Are you still stuck in that dress because you can’t get it off by yourself?”

  She looked down and grimaced. Excellent. She hadn’t even thought of that.

  “I’m—fine. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  He laughed quietly. “The only reason that costume was backstage is because no one wears it anymore. They were sick of needing a two-person team to get it on and off.”

  “This would have been good to remind me of three hours ago when you helped me put it on.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged, a guilty smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But what fun would that have been?”

  Josie felt her eyes narrow. “Not funny.” She turned around, jiggled the stupid handle again, because of course this time it’d pop open, right?

  “We should yell for help, Ethan.”

  “No one will hear us.” He took another half-step toward her. “Good news, though. If we get that dress off you, it’ll make a half-decent bed for the night.”

  “Omigod, Ethan. We are not sleeping in here.” And she would not—would not—let her brain remember doing just that … on this dress … a long time ago.

  He shrugged, making her pretty sure his brain was heading toward the same memory. “Sleeping’s overrated.”

  She backed up. “Aren’t there tools in here? Can we drill out the lock or something?”

  He gave her an amused smile. “Did you learn how to use power tools before you caught claustrophobia? Or after?”

  “You don’t catch claus—” She made a frustrated sound. “Never mind.”

  “Are you sure everyone’s gone? Even Ben?”

  “He won’t be back till morning.” He took a small step toward her. “Why so nervous, Josie?”

  “Gosh, I don’t know. Trapped in a deserted theme park, in a closet with a guy who hates me. No weapons besides a stapler…”

  “You can do serious damage with a stapler. It’s all in the aim.”

  “Good to know.”

  He paused, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t hate you, Josie.”

  “That’s—hard to believe.”

  “It’s true. I’ve felt a lot of emotions for you over the years, but hate isn’t one of them.”

  He reached toward her, then pulled his hand back, pointing at his own face. “Your nervous spots are out.”

  “What do you me—” Her hands flew to her cheeks, where she felt the heat that was probably making them flame right now. “Oh.” Dammit.

  He cracked a smile as he took another half-step toward her. “You still glow.”

  She backed up, but came smack up against the metal shelving behind her. Ethan’s eyes were still on hers, and she did her best to avoid them by looking anywhere but at his face. Unfortunately, all that meant was getting an up-close-and-personal look at the pecs and biceps she’d run her fingers over hundreds of times.

  They were currently hidden under a dark blue Snowflake Village polo shirt, but she had no trouble at all remembering what they looked like when he tossed a shirt like this over his head, impish grin on his face. No trouble remembering what t
hey looked like, wet from the lake, as he bent over her in the back of his truck, their bodies one.

  “Can’t you, like, kick through the door or something?” She hated how shaky her voice sounded.

  “Nope, but be my guest if you want to try.” She swore he took another half-step, even though she hadn’t seen him move. His after-shave was turning on a whole host of long-dead sensors in her brain.

  And everywhere else, dammit.

  “Fine.” Josie pushed past him to the door. Anything to break the tension simmering between them. “I’ll do it.”

  She turned and shoved as much of her dress behind her as possible, then lifted her knee and gave the door a mighty kick. It didn’t budge, but she saw stars and was pretty sure she’d broken twenty-five of the twenty-six bones in her foot.

  She sank against the door and slid down to the floor, too late realizing the princess dress would head upward just as fast as she slid downward. She did her best to mash it down around her, but it was a little late to worry about modesty. He’d already seen half of what she had on underneath, anyway.

  She bit her cheek to stop from swearing as she tried to check her foot for purple bruising, but she couldn’t reach it through the endless layers of tulle. “Your turn. Let’s see your best cop-breaking-down-door impression.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Not a cop, sorry. And the human foot isn’t really designed to break through a two-inch slab of oak.”

  “It’s oak? No wonder.”

  He chuckled. “Right. Because pine wouldn’t have had a chance against your size sixes.”

  “It always works in the movies.” She walked her hands up the door in back of her, trying to gain some control over the situation. He was taking up way too much room in here. The air was getting thinner, she swore. Her face felt flushed, and her breathing was shallow.

  She rattled the doorknob one more useless time. “Is there ventilation in here? Are we going to have enough air?”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “It’s not a space capsule. Yes, we’ll live till morning.” Then he pointed at her dress. She saw him bite his lip, but he failed miserably as a deep chuckle escaped. “I’m sorry. That dress. I just can’t get one particular vision out of my mind.”

  “Shut up.”

  “That poor timpani.”

  Josie reached across the tiny space and poked him in the arm. “It was not funny.”

  He chuckled again, then caught her second poke as her finger came toward him. He didn’t let go, challenge in his eyes. “Really? You’re going to poke me?”

  “Only if you keep laughing.” Oh, for cripes sake, what was wrong with her voice? It was all husky and whispery all of a sudden. And what was with the poking? Was she twelve?

  “If we’re going to be stuck in here all night, I imagine we could think of some ways to make the time pass.” His thumb edged over her wrist, exquisitely, painfully slowly.

  “Stop thinking. You don’t even like me anymore, remember?”

  “There was a time we would have locked ourselves in here on purpose.”

  “We were sixteen. It was a long, long time ago.”

  “Not that long.”

  “Sixteen only comes around once, Ethan.” Josie shook her head, feeling her breaths come faster. “Then we grow up. We tried. We failed. Remember? Aren’t you downright scared to be caught in a closet with me after all this time?”

  “I’m not scared of you. I’ve just seen your martial arts skills.”

  “Those aren’t my best skills, you know.” As soon as the unintentional double entendre came out, she closed her eyes, wishing she could suck the words back in.

  “Oh, I know you have other skills, Josie.” His eyes traveled over her body, then back to her face. She could swear a path of tiny flames followed.

  Josie pulled her hand free, then forced it down to her side as she realized she was rubbing it. She grabbed a section of hair and twisted it nervously. “You’re absolutely sure Ben’s not still here? He doesn’t check in before he leaves?”

  “Everyone’s gone, Josie.” He reached one hand up to brace it on the shelf above her head, the picture of composure and relaxation. “It’s just you and me.”

  “Long time ago,” she whispered.

  He stepped toward her, slowly pulled her hand away from the curl she was twisting into oblivion. “Not that long.”

  “Really long.”

  He shook his head slowly, eyes capturing hers, refusing to let go. His hand came up to her face, slid toward her ear. “Not that long, Josie. Not that long.”

  “No, Ethan. You’re supposed to be toothless … and bald.” She put a hand up between them, but he captured it in his own and pressed it to his chest. Her voice, barely a whisper, died in her throat.

  “I’m neither.” He smiled as he stroked her fingers, sending shivery tingles zinging around her entire body.

  “Don’t do this.”

  “I can’t help it.” He leaned in closer, touching his lips to her jaw, just shy of her earlobe. It was all she could do to remain standing.

  “Ethan—”

  “Shh.” He kissed down her neck, still stroking her captured hand. “Stop thinking.” Her head lolled back against her will, making him groan.

  He lifted his head, still cradling her jaw. “God, Josie.”

  Josie looked into his eyes. Despite the faint lines, they were the same smoky blue they’d always been, made more intense by his lust. She’d get lost in them once again if she wasn’t careful. She’d get lost in all of it if she wasn’t careful.

  She closed her eyes. But all she wanted to do was feel him, drink him up, melt into his body and transport back ten years when his love was almost enough to buoy her through all of the other hell. He was touching her with the same strong hands that promised heat and strength and ecstasy, all at once.

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t pull away.

  He sensed her capitulation and pulled her head closer to his. Then his lips touched hers, soft and warm and sure, and Josie’s breath caught in her throat. Tingles flew from her lips down her neck and straight to every nerve ending in her body. Her knees felt wobbly as his fingertips stroked her jaw, then her neck.

  She knew she should stop, knew she should pull back, knew she should talk sense into her brain, but God, the kissing! It was so perfect. His lips were so sure, so familiar, so warm and comforting and so damn … good.

  Just as she was a millisecond away from completely melting into his arms, the closet knob rattled and the door fell open, sending Josie windmilling into the hallway, poofy dress flying upward as she landed on the floor.

  The last thing she saw as she grabbed her purse from the office and fled down the stairs was Ben’s mouth open in a wide O.

  Chapter 13

  “Um—” Ben’s hand was on the doorknob, head cocked to one side, looking at Ethan with a sly smile.

  “Don’t ask.” Ethan swore under his breath as he strode out into the hallway, looking out the window to see Josie disappearing through the igloo in a cloud of poofed-up princess dress.

  Ben rattled the doorknob. “This thing still broken?”

  “Apparently.”

  “You close it on purpose?”

  Ethan pushed his fingers into his hair, shaking his head. “How’d you know we were in here? Thought you were gone for the day.”

  “Saw your cars in the parking lot when I was heading home from the doctor’s office. Figgered I’d better take a little tour and make sure you hadn’t killed each other.” Ben leaned down to put the door wedge back in place, shoulders shaking. “I’ll put this on the maintenance list.”

  “I can see your stupid-ass grin even when you’re looking the other way, you know.”

  “I resent that. I don’t have a stupid-ass grin.” Ben slapped Ethan on the shoulder as they turned to walk back toward the office. “Oh my boy. This is the best thing that’s happened around here in a long, long time.”

  “Shut up, Ben. I can fire you, y’know.”


  Ben laughed out loud. “Then you’d be doing three jobs all by your lonesome.” He stopped at Ethan’s doorway and ushered him through. “Nah. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay on a while longer. It’s just getting fun around here again.”

  Ethan sank into his desk chair and shook his head, trying to hide a smile. “Get out of here, old man. Go home to your wife.”

  Ben saluted as he backed into the hallway. “Yes, boss. You have a good night now. Sweet dreams!” He disappeared around the corner one second before a crumpled paper ball would have smacked him in the forehead.

  “I want that lock fixed tomorrow!” Ethan called out.

  “I’ll put it on the list.” He heard Ben cackle as he started down the stairs. “But it’s an awful, awful long list.”

  Ethan turned to his monitor, trying to remember what he’d been doing before he’d headed to the storage closet. As he clicked aimlessly on open windows, a chime sounded and a Skype window popped up with his brother’s picture in the corner. He sat up straighter and tried to put on his best game-face before he clicked on the connect button.

  “Yo, big bro!” David’s booming voice came across Ethan’s puny computer speakers. It didn’t quite match a face that seemed thinner than a month ago when they’d last talked.

  “Hey! You’re up a little early, aren’t you?” It was five A.M. in his barracks overseas. Ethan could see a flurry of activity behind him. “Looks busy back there.”

  There was a pregnant pause as David looked behind him for a few seconds. “Yeah. One of those days.”

  “You guys on the move?”

  “Looks like.”

  “How long?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Ethan felt his fingers tighten on the mouse. “Fear factor?”

  David shrugged, but his mouth was tight. “Sixish, maybe.”

  “Damn.” Ethan tried to swallow the golf ball in his throat. David had never rated anything above a three or four on their ten-point scare scale. “You talk to Pops lately?”