by Jo Leigh
That was the most worrisome thing of all.
THEY DIDN’T GET BACK to the room until after midnight. Bentley excused herself to go change. When she entered the bathroom, the lights flickered briefly, then went out completely.
“Ouch! Who moved the damn couch?”
She smiled. “You okay?”
“No,” Mitch called from the other room. “I’m injured. I need medical attention.”
“Call 911.”
“I need attention now.”
“I suppose you’ll be wanting to use my flashlight. And my Band-Aids. And my radio.”
“Of course. That’s why I love you. You’re always prepared.”
Her smile fell. He was kidding. But she didn’t find it funny. Nothing was funny tonight.
“Hello? You still here?”
“I’m here,” she called, trying to make her voice sound cheerful and upbeat. “Can you find my suitcase?”
“The flowery one?”
“No, the Vuitton. The one by the TV.”
He was quiet for a moment, well, not quiet—he kept bumping around and cursing—but he didn’t speak to her. She finished washing her face and groped for a towel. It was darker than she could have imagined, almost painfully dark.
She found the towel, dried off and set a course for the bedroom. Just as she located the door, a blinding light caught her in the eyes and she grimaced. “I see you found the flashlight.”
He waved the beam lower, showing her the way out. “Yep. Listen to that wind. I pity the sailors out there.”
“The sailors?”
“I knew a sailor once,” Mitch said defensively. “Or maybe he just worked at Sea World. I forget.”
She followed the light and made it to her bed without mishap. He illuminated the couch for a moment, and she saw that he’d made up his own bed.
“I’ll wait till you’re settled.” he said. “Can’t guarantee you’ll sleep, though. Not with all this noise.”
It was loud. The wind seemed to be searching for crevices and cracks, pulling and tearing at the windows, at the very building itself. She guessed she should have been scared. But a hurricane seemed a small nuisance next to the fact that her whole world was unraveling.
She climbed under the covers, then glanced at the light and shadow of Mitch. She couldn’t see him well, mostly just the shape of him. She remem-bered—was it just last night?—when she’d seen him in silhouette. How she’d thought he was her dream man.
The joke was on her.
Mitch went to the couch, and she heard him hunker down.
“Any last requests?” he asked.
Yes, she thought Let it be like it was, for those few minutes this afternoon. Let me pretend that everything will turn out right. “No. No requests.”
The light went out. The darkness was deep and a little frightening. She couldn’t tell whether her eyes were open or closed. The wind found a new voice, a moan that shared her loneliness, a cry in the night. She turned over, burying her head in the pillow so he wouldn’t hear her cry.
A long time later, or maybe it had only been a moment, she felt the edge of the bed dip. She froze, waiting, praying.
“Come on,” he said. “Scoot over.”
She did, her heart beating a rapid pulse, her hopes climbing fast.
He got in bed with her. She felt his whole body right next to hers, touching her side the way his thigh had once touched her thigh.
Then she felt him move, and his hand was on her cheek. He found her lips with his as if he could see through the night.
His kiss was sweet and sad, and when he touched her tear with his thumb, he moaned, and she knew he cried out for her pain, not his own.
She pressed against him, and he moved his hand to her back, exploring, possessing. Then he reached for her breast, and she guided his hand underneath her gown until he found what he was looking for.
His kiss deepened, and she wished she could see him, his face. She needed to know this was real, that it was Mitch, and that he knew it was Bentley.
He pulled back, kissed her neck, then whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Just say you want me. Say you want me.”
“More than you can ever know, Bentley. My Bentley.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bentley felt his hands grip tightly as he turned her toward him. His breathing was rapid—as rapid as hers. She wanted him in a way that was totally new to her. She wanted him for absolution.
He kissed her again, a soul-deep kiss that melted any hesitation that was left. Then, as she was pulling him closer, he hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I think we’re moving a little too fast here,” he said.
“The bag is on the counter. Is that it? The conlorn?”
He eased to his side but kept his arm around her shoulder. “No, that’s not it. Although it kills me to say this, I think we should consider what we’re doing.
“What we’re not doing is making love,” she said, turning to face him. “Why is that?”
“Because I think you’ll be sorry.”
His voice sounded so certain. “You think…you think. I’m so feebleminded that I can’t decide if I should sleep with you? Is that it?”
Just then, the lights came back on. Where it had been too dark only a moment ago, it was now too bright. Too revealing.
“Shut the lights,” she said, “please.”
He got up, and she closed her eyes to wait until the darkness came once more. She sighed in relief when he turned everything off except the bathroom light. He surprised her then by getting back in bed and not going to the couch.
“Can we start again?” he asked. “I didn’t mean that you were unable to make your own decisions. Honest.”
“What did you mean?” She moved away from him, to the far side of the bed. It was safer that way.
“Look, kiddo. I don’t normally do noble, but when I do, it’s for cause.”
She scowled, glad that there was just enough light for him to see it.
He moved over. His body touched hers lightly, all the way down her left side. Still, it was enough to make her temperature rise several degrees.
“Off the record, sweetheart. I know I’ve been a louse. I marched in and botched everything up for you. I know you came here just for your sister’s wedding. That Colker wasn’t on your agenda. And I also know that by pretending to be Carter, I’ve upset the apple cart even further. I didn’t want to hear that stuff from your dad, but I did. It’s done. I just don’t want you to hate me later on, when we’re both going after the same story, and I’m winning.”
“What makes you think you’ll win?”
“That’s not the point.”
She softened a bit, hearing what he said. “You think I’ll regret it, huh?”
He nodded.
“That I’ll keep thinking you know this big secret, and that I’ll resent the fact that you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That you found my personal and private papers, and you didn’t hesitate to read them, then use the information for your own ends?”
“I think we’re pretty clear on that subject.”
“Okay, then. There’s a perfectly good solution to the entire problem.”
“I don’t think the windows open up here. You’d have to throw me from the roof.”
She smiled. Damn, he could do that to her every time. Take that nice solid anger and make it vanish. “That’s not what I meant, even though your idea does have merit.”
He lay down again, his head squarely on one pillow, hers on the other. Which was very nice, all by itself. “The solution is that you have to tell me a secret of equal or greater value,” she said.
“What? Get out of here.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“How do you know I have a secret?”
“Even you can’t be as uncomplicated as you’d like people to believe. There are some hidden compartmen
ts in there.”
“You’re giving me too much credit. Maybe I am a simple soul. Sleep when I’m tired. Eat when I’m hungry.”
“Lie when it suits you?”
“Cute. You’re completely mad, but very cute.”
She turned her head. Even from this angle, where it was darker, she could see he was smiling at her. Under the covers, she felt his hand on top of hers, and she took it. He squeezed it, and she knew he’d been right. She wasn’t ready to make love to him. What she’d wanted was this. This closeness. This friendship. On the other hand…
“Oh, I do have a secret.”
“What?”
His expression turned serious. “I stole your last three expense reports and copied them. I’m sorry. I beg you to forgive me.”
“Oh, please. I knew that. Accounting knew that. Even Esther in the photocopying room knew that You think we’re all morons?”
“Not all of you. But damn. Esther?”
“Come on. Quit dodging the issue. Fess up, Slater. I mean it.”
He was quiet for a long time. She heard his even breathing, glad for his proximity. It would have been terrible to sleep alone tonight.
“Okay. I stole a car.”
“When?”
“Yesterday, what do you think? When I was a teenager, of course.”
“Ah. Nope. Try again.”
“What? That’s a felony.”
“You were too young. Doesn’t count.”
“Since when do we have all these rules?”
“Since you became Carter.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Again, he was quiet, only this time, she got the feeling he was really trying. She knew so little about his life that whatever he told her was going to shed some much needed light.
While she waited, she listened to the storm. She was glad she was safe and warm and protected. The wind sounded dangerous, and she wondered what kind of havoc it was causing all around the islands. She hoped Stephanie was also safe, and she felt sorry that her sister was alone and not with Jack.
“I almost killed a man once,” Mitch said. “How’s that for a secret?”
His voice was soft and low, and she knew he was telling her the truth.
“What happened?” she asked, aware that he was slowly pulling his hand away. She gripped it tighter.
“I was seventeen, but I think this one counts. I hadn’t seen my mother in a long time. She’d been in detox again, and the foster family I’d been staying with were something out of a Stephen King novel. So social services sent me back home. Well, it wasn’t a home, it was a flophouse in downtown L.A. Twenty-five bucks a week. If you didn’t pay, they took your front door.”
Bentley kept herself very still. She was afraid that if she moved, he would stop talking, and she had a very strong feeling that this was much more than an idle conversation for him. He was telling her this because he wanted her to know.
“About two weeks later, I heard some bad noises coming from her room. It was late. A guy was there. That wasn’t unusual. But I heard her scream. I broke through her door. This guy, this guy with a big tattoo on his back, a picture of a Chinese dragon, was beating her up. He wasn’t particular about what he was doing. Just swinging those huge hands and hitting what he could.”
The wind battered so hard at the window, Bentley thought it would break. But she didn’t move. Not a muscle.
“I had a baseball bat. Signed by Mickey Mantle. It was probably a fake, but that was okay, ’cause I didn’t play baseball. I used it that night, though. I went at him with everything I had. I was pretty big then, too.”
Bentley felt her throat tighten. The urge to cry was heightened by the grip he now had on her hand. Not that it was excruciatingly tight, but that he was so unaware that he was hurting her.
“I just kept hitting him. My mother was screaming, and he was screaming. People were banging on the front door. Finally, my mother, she was so drunk it’s amazing she could do anything at all, she grabbed hold of me. I think she’d been calling my name for a long time. She was screaming that it was my father, that he was my father.”
“Oh, God.”
“I don’t know if it was true. He got out of there fast, right to the emergency room, I’m sure. The police came, but they didn’t arrest me. I moved out the next day and never looked back.”
“So you haven’t seen her?”
“Nope. I don’t even know if she’s alive or not.”
Bentley turned and put her arm over Mitch’s chest. He continued to stare straight up into the dark room. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what? You didn’t do anything.”
She shook him, but just a little. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” She saw him nod. “I do.”
She put her head down on his chest and, despite the wind outside, heard the beat of his heart, felt each breath. After a while he touched her hair, petting her softly.
“I bet you didn’t realize we had so much in common,” he said.
She laughed. “Yeah. Twins separated at birth.”
“They talked about me for weeks at the country club,” he said, and she heard humor there, not just pain.
She lifted herself up. “Well, I’d say you did pretty well for yourself, Mitch Slater. Despite everything. You’re an ace reporter, you work for one of the largest papers in the world.”
“I don’t have a Pulitzer yet.”
“Give it time.”
The moon dipped behind a cloud and she couldn’t see him anymore. But she knew he was smiling at her. The way a friend does. The way a lover smiles.
She dropped back to her side of the bed. Not tonight. Tonight was for sharing in a different way.
A light came on, and she blinked and squinted. It was the beam from her flashlight. Mitch had it in his hand, and he was shining it on the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to show you my magic tricks.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Nah. They’ll dazzle you with their brilliance, but it won’t hurt or anything.” He found her hand and put the flashlight in it. “Shine it against that wall.”
She did. She knew he wasn’t avoiding a deeper discussion. He’d told her the truth, and now he was telling her that he was over it. The episode was in his past, part of him, but it didn’t own him.
His hand went in front of the beam so his shadow hit the wall.
“Hand shadows?”
“Watch and learn,” he said, folding his fingers together in the traditional duck maneuver. He quacked twice and showed her the duck’s beak open and close.
I’ve never seen anything like it! she said. “How did you ever come up with that?”
“It’s a secret, kid, but someday I might tell you.”
Then he moved his fingers into a slightly different pattern, but the shadow was still clearly a duck.
“Guess what it is,” he said.
“Another duck. I think this one has arthritis.”
“No. It’s a goose. Completely different animal.”
“Uh-huh.”
He changed it once more, but the shadow still looked like a duck.
“Well?”
“A pigeon?”
“Are you blind? That’s a cat.”
“It is not.”
“I should know. It’s my hand.”
Bentley laughed. “Don’t quit your day job.”
He harrumphed. “Fat lot you know.”
He added two fingers from his other hand and gave the duck ears. “I suppose you’re going to say that’s a duck?”
“Nope. That’s an animal that doesn’t exist in nature.”
“It’s a pony.”
“With a beak?”
“That’s not a beak.”
“I’m not going to argue with you. If you want that to be a pony, fine. It’s a pony.”
He dropped his hand and turned to her. “Is that how you argue? Just give in over the pony? I thought you were
tougher than that. I’m really disappointed.”
She turned off the flashlight, leaned over, kissed him lightly on the lips and said, “We can argue later. I’ve got an hour free after lunch.”
He caught her and kissed her back, and he wasn’t fooling around. She thought that maybe it was time for them to take this to the next step, but then he let her go.
“You have sweet dreams,” he whispered. “You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
She lay down, certain she wouldn’t fall asleep soon, not with him so close. But she did.
Mitch watched her for a long time. When he was certain she was asleep, he touched her face with the back of his fingers. Her skin was incredibly smooth, like silk. He’d never done anything half as hard as not making love to her tonight. But he knew that he couldn’t keep her as a lover, so he’d have to keep her as a friend.
He fell asleep with his hand upon her hand.
FRIDAY MORNING STARTED with the phone ringing. Mitch stirred awake and picked up the receiver. “’Lo?”
“Carter? Are you still sleeping? It’s nearly ten o’clock. Put Bentley on, would you?”
He nudged Bentley until she opened her eyes. “It’s for you,” he said, handing her the phone.
She didn’t sit up, just tucked the phone by her ear.. “Yes?”
Mitch climbed out of bed and went to the window. It was daylight, but fierce outside. If anything, the storm had worsened. He found the remote and flipped on the television. He got a station, although the one he’d watched last night was off the air. The reports were similar to the ones he’d heard before. Hurricane Bonnie was rated a two on a scale of five, and Maui was on the far side of the eye. The full brunt of the storm would hit tonight.
He threw the remote on the couch and went to take a shower.
When he emerged, dressed, hungry, ready to rock and roll, she was still on the phone. He listened for a minute but gave it up after he realized she was speaking to a hotel clerk. There was stationery at the desk, and Mitch needed to do some plotting. Time was running out, and so far all they knew was that Colker was in room 1600 using the name Mr. C. And that hadn’t been confirmed, even with the bounty from the trash can.
There was every possibility the hotel was going to lose power sometime in the next twenty-four hours. The hotel staff would be in an uproar. Things could get misplaced. People could be confused. He wanted to be ready when that happened.
