Sentenced To Wed

by Adrianne Lee

  Going from bright light to near darkness had her blinking and disoriented again. She wondered where the main switch was. She wanted to flood the warehouse with light, drive out the shadows, expose anyone hiding in the murk.

  She cleared the door, and Mark grasped her wrist, yanking her down. She banged her shin against the ice chest and swallowed a cry of pain. She’d no sooner squatted when the crack of a fired gun resounded in the warehouse. The dim light at the farthest corner blew apart. Terror stabbed Livia.

  The next bullet hit the light above them. Glass exploded and rained down on them. She flattened herself on the floor, hands shielding her face. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

  “Shh,” Mark admonished in a whisper. “Any noise makes our whereabouts easy to pinpoint.”

  The next bullet kissed the air above Livia, puncturing a sack of flour and powdering her shoulders. It dawned on her that with the light from the freezer at their backs, they were sitting ducks. She scrambled up and shoved the freezer door closed. Their little corner of the warehouse went black. She felt her way back to Mark, and whispered, “We need to reach the back door. It’s our best chance of escape. This way.”

  Luckily, Livia had been in the warehouse many times and was familiar with the layout. The freezer abutted the end wall. The end wall held the exit door. With her back to the freezer face, she kept one hand on its cool surface, the other on Mark. For all the fear racing through her veins, the worst was the fear of losing him in the darkness, losing him to a fatal bullet.

  Another gun burst shattered the last remaining light, pitching them into complete darkness. Livia sucked in a sharp breath and stopped. Mark bumped into her.

  “Keep moving.” His voice brushed her ear.

  She nodded, forgetting in her fright that he couldn’t see her. She could hear footsteps from across the warehouse. Whoever was in here seemed able to traverse the aisles despite the total darkness. Then she saw it. A beam of illumination poking through the shelves of foodstuffs. The shooter had a flashlight. Livia wanted to cower in terror, stop right where she was and curl into a ball, but Mark pushed against her, making her move.

  Her shoulder bumped something solid. The end wall. She exhaled in relief and murmured, “We’re here.”

  The bobbing light was coming closer. The hourglass warmed against Livia’s skin, warning her. Fear filled her throat. She felt a scream building and struggled to rein it in. Suddenly the footfalls grew louder, faster. She knew then that the killer had spotted them, was coming to kill them, knew if she pulled out the hour-glass to check she would see the heavenly sand had fallen to zero.

  But the light played over the exit door, then went out. Livia’s grip on Mark’s arm tightened, her every muscle clenched. She couldn’t see beyond her nose. She held her breath. The quiet was broken by the sound of the exit door opening, then slamming shut.

  Mark swore and jumped up, dragging her with him. “He’s getting away. Come on.”

  He moved out of her reach and in the darkness she stumbled after him, arms flung out, feeling her way. Mark seemed to have no problem figuring out exactly where he was. She felt lost in a fog, unable to identity basic landmarks.

  “Livia?” He was at the door, yanking it open. The outside light fell across his outline.

  She felt as though someone had torn a veil from her eyes. She ran to him. They raced out and onto the employee parking lot. It was empty. As they rounded the building to the office parking area, they heard the squeal of tires and spied a dark sedan darting into the thick traffic on the main road.

  “Get in the van!” Mark shouted. “That snake is not getting away this time!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  CANDIED KISSES

  2 Cups of Sugar

  1 Pound of Chocolate

  Heat to Bubbling

  Makes It All Feel Better

  For a Little While

  Livia chased after Mark. He’d been knocked unconscious with a frozen leg of lamb, but sprinted with the speed of someone trained for a marathon. Adrenaline, she supposed. Hers had been stripped away, along with her stamina, by the fear coursing through her veins.

  She arrived at the passenger side of the van out of breath, her heart pumping triple time. Mark already had the engine running. As she hit the seat and slammed the door, he smacked his foot to the gas pedal. The van shot forward and a second later plunged into traffic. Horns blared and tires screeched.

  Livia braced for a crash, frantically snapping on her seat belt. They’d survived the freezer, survived being shot at, only to die in a road accident?

  “Mark, slow down. Please. The light ahead is red.”

  He didn’t seem to hear. Didn’t seem to notice the glare of taillights as drivers braked for the traffic signal. The van careened from lane to lane, closing in on the bunched pack of idling vehicles. She scanned the cars at the stoplight, but there were too many dark sedans to figure out which one they sought.

  The light turned green. Cars began moving, some going left, some right, some straight.

  “Mark, please, slow down. This is impossible. Even if we could make this light—which we can’t—which car would you follow? This is crazy. Senseless. We aren’t going to catch him.”

  “I know, I know.” He swore, tapped the brake and gave his head a furious shake, then grabbed it. “Oh, damn, oh, damn. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  His hand came away bloody. He looked at his fingers as though he had no idea what he was seeing.

  Her stomach clenched with new fear. “You’re bleeding again.”

  He was pale, too, she realized, and strove to keep the fear from her voice. But she’d almost lost him. Could maybe lose him yet. “If you won’t go to an emergency room, please, let’s go to your house and tend to that wound before you bleed to death.”

  “Okay.” He pulled to the side of the road. “But you’d better drive. I’m starting to see double and as delightful as looking at two of you is, one of you, Ms. Kingston, is more than this guy deserves.”

  Livia would argue him to the mat over what he deserved, but arguing with him was a waste of breath. she felt sure Mark had a concussion, but nothing she said convinced him to see a doctor. In the end she gave up, figuring the only remaining option was to cleanse and bandage his wound as best she could and pump some aspirin into him.

  By the time they reached Cupid’s Catering, Candee and Nanette had gone for the day. Livia studied the surrounding alley and backyard, praying the killer hadn’t beaten them there, wasn’t hiding in the darkness, somewhere out of sight, with a gun aimed at them. The possibility had her moving quickly, but Mark was less surefooted than he’d been only a short time ago. Leaning on her, he staggered up the back steps and into the house like a drunk, increasing her fear that his wound was worse than she knew.

  She could lose him at any moment. Desperation to cling to him, to be with him, tore through her. Why had she never realized before that life was so precious? So short? That every minute should be cherished? Spent with someone you loved.

  They’d been lucky…tonight. Been given more time to be together. She thanked God for these priceless gifts of time and love, and promised not to waste either.

  Mark set the locks the moment they were inside.

  She helped him upstairs to his private suite, into the bathroom, onto the closed toilet lid. She dug through his medicine cabinet and took out gauze pads, tape, antiseptic and disinfectant. She laid the supplies on the toilet tank, along with Reese’s ring, which she would not wear while making love to Mark, then glanced at her patient.

  His pupils seemed equal in size to her. But was that the only way to judge a concussion?

  Despite the discomfort he had to be feeling, he grinned at her with a devilish glint in his golden eyes, and she knew he too was grateful to still be among the living, to have this time together. “Are we going to play doctor?”

  “You wish.” She grabbed a towel and the Mercurochrome, then positioned herself between his thighs and
tipped his head toward her. “This isn’t going to be nearly as much fun.”

  “See, there’s the difference between men and women,” Mark drawled. “From my perspective, as long as you’re standing between my legs, I’m having a good time.”

  “You might want to reserve judgment on that.” She dribbled stinging disinfectant into his open wound, using the towel to dab the spillage.

  Mark grunted in pain. “Oh, yeah, we’re having fun now. Yee-ha!”

  Livia winced. She hated inflicting pain on this man she wanted to do anything to but hurt. She cleansed the wound, wiping away the congealed blood from his hair and scalp. To her utter relief, the wound wasn’t as deep as she’d thought and she told him so.

  “That’s good news, nurse.” His hands were on her thighs, moving upward, probably distracting himself from the pain, definitely distracting her.

  Livia grinned. “You’re a very naughty patient.”

  His palms cupped her bottom. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, nurse.”

  She felt her knees grow wobbly and strove to contain the desire that responded with wild abandon to his voice, his gaze, his touch. “I’m not a nurse, but growing up in a home with seven brothers and sisters I’ve learned basic first aid for everything from scrapes and scratches to gashes and gouges. So, hold still, you.”

  He obeyed, stilling his hands on her bottom as though he needed to touch her, to assure himself she was real, alive, not gunned down in the warehouse. When she was satisfied the cut was as clean as she could get it, she slathered on a layer of antiseptic, covered it with a gauze pad, then secured the pad with tape.

  “Do I get a lollipop?” His gaze shone with need, telling her that she was the “candy” he wanted.

  A responding shiver echoed through Livia. “How about some aspirin, instead?”

  She handed him the pills and a paper cup of water.

  He said, “Okay, I’ll take the painkillers, but only if you’ll kiss me afterward and make me feel all better.”

  Laughing, she took his head gently in both hands and kissed him near his bandage. “Is that better?”

  “Not really. Maybe here would help.” He pointed to his forehead.

  She kissed him there. “Better?”

  “A little. But I think this hurts, too.” He pointed to his cheek.

  She kissed him there, drinking in his wonderful vanilla scent. “How’s that?”

  “Almost, but not quite. How about…?” He lifted his face and pointed to his mouth.

  Smiling at his antics, she leaned lower and his arms snaked around her, his lips meeting hers with such hunger she wobbled and dropped onto his lap. He tasted her mouth as no man ever had, first the upper lip, then the lower, then his tongue twined with hers and she became dizzy with the power of his persuasion.

  Several sumptuous seconds passed before she recalled he might have a concussion, and she broke off the kiss, murmuring, “You should be in bed.”

  He reached for her mouth again. “I’d like nothing better than to lie down with you.”

  Desire seemed to be stealing the air from the room, leaving her panting, breathless, frantic to rip the clothes from them both and to end this erotic torture. But one of them had to be practical, levelheaded, had to look after his health. “I’m not sure this is the best thing for you…given your condition.”

  He brought her hand to the bulge between his legs. “I think it’s the perfect prescription, nurse, given my ‘condition.’”

  All resistance left her. She stood, pulling him to his feet. She hadn’t checked the hourglass but she knew when she did the sand would have fallen lower. They were running out of time, she felt it as surely as she felt the draw of this man. And she wanted to be with him, had to be with him, had to make love with him one more time. “Come on, you naughty patient. I’m going to treat you to my best bedside manner.”

  “I like the sound of that.” His voice had gone husky, his gaze lusty.

  She led him into his bedroom. Mark kissed her neck, one side then the other as she unbuttoned his shirt, as he tugged off her sweater and bra. Touching his naked chest, his flat stomach, the muscles on his broad back felt even more delicious than the first time and thrilling quivers scurried through her.

  “I love this spot.” Mark dipped his mouth to nuzzle the hollow of her throat. “Almost as much as this spot.” He spread kisses along her collarbone to the edge of her shoulders. “But this might be my favorite spot of all.” He nibbled his way to her breasts and his tongue stroked one supersensitive nipple, then the other, zinging heart-melting sparks through every part of her.

  She caught the waist of his jeans as he caught hers, his mouth claiming hers again, the eagerness wild, uncontrollable, and their clothes seemed to fall away on their own. Then she was holding him, tasting him, kissing him. She gazed up, meeting his look. He was swaying on his feet. She rose, kissing her way to his chest, urging him onto the bed, onto his back. He lay propped against the pillows fully aroused, as inviting a man as ever a woman could want, and she wanted him bad. She climbed onto the bed, straddling him.

  “Maybe this is my favorite,” Mark rasped. She lowered her hips to his, and he gasped as she sank onto him, taking him into her, deep, then deeper still. “Ah, yes, this is my favorite.”

  “Mine, too,” she said on a quavery sigh. “Mine, too.”

  The hourglass heated between her breasts, growing as hot as Livia, arcing out that strange and eerie glow that seemed to enfold them, and she felt herself going liquid, like dissolving sugar, bubbling, sweet, fluid, crystallizing into one with Mark.

  Ecstasy filled his eyes as she lifted her hips and brought them down, again and again, intoxicating her, spinning her body and soul high, then higher into a dizzying spiral that reached right into the clouds, halfway to Heaven. She burst through and into a transparent expanse somewhere between this world and the next, a place that only Mark could take her. She cried his name, gripped his hips, her head thrown back in abandon, her voice meeting his on that ethereal plane.

  She collapsed on him and felt her heart thundering against his. Her breath was ragged, her body shivery with aftershocks. “I was wrong… That last is my favorite.”

  “Oh, yeah, mine, too.” His breath was as labored as hers, and she smiled at the luscious way she felt, as though Mark’s lovemaking had released her somehow from every restraint she’d known in her life. She rolled to his side and he enfolded her in his arms.

  They slept, wrapped together for hours. Livia woke ravenous. It was two in the morning. She left Mark sleeping and stole to the kitchen. She found chocolate sauce and strawberries in the refrigerator along with a bottle of sparkling cider. She heated the chocolate in the microwave, then set it all on a tray, along with goblets and napkins.

  The strawberries were huge, more than a bite. She spied a hefty butcher-block knife holder on the counter near the stove. Each knife handle was forged metal engraved with a small cupid. One of the larger knives was missing. Probably in the dishwasher, she mused, grabbing a smaller one and putting it on the tray.

  When she reached the bedroom, Mark was rousing. “What you got there?”

  She smiled. “Sweet sustenance.”

  She joined him on the bed, settling the tray between them. He poured the cider as she sliced two of the larger strawberries, dipped them into the warmed chocolate and fed them to him. He was smiling now. “Yummy.”

  He kissed her, took a sip of cider, then fed strawberries drenched in chocolate to her, and not once did Livia think of calories. They made love again, put the chocolate and cider to even more erotic uses, then showered together. Afterward, Mark sat beside her on the bed as she dressed to leave, cajoling her to stay.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want my parents wondering where I spent the night.”

  “Oh, all right.” Mark caught hold of the hourglass and alarm filled his eyes. “Look.”

  The stardust had slipped to ten. Livia’s nerves jumped. As much as she wanted to stay with
Mark, here in his bed until all of the time had passed, she knew they couldn’t.

  “There’s no telling how much time we have left. The sand is slipping through this hourglass with no rhyme or reason.” Mark swore. “We have to figure out who murdered Wendy.”

  She forced herself to shake off the fear and to concentrate. “Did you learn anything from the crew in the warehouse?”

  “The biggest thing I got for my trouble was this lump on the head. Most of the warehouse workers are new since my time. Those jobs don’t pay all that well and the turnover is huge.”

  Disappointment tripped through Livia. “What about the warehouse manager, Hank?”

  “Closemouthed, loyal to the Rayburns. He looked at me funny when I asked about Wendy. So, I let it go. How did you fare?”

  “No better than you, I’m afraid. After everyone left, I discovered the offices were locked as well as all the file cabinets.”

  “You didn’t get anything from questioning our suspects?”

  “Depends on how you define ‘anything.’ I still don’t know who the executor is of Josh’s trust fund. But I could probably assign motive of one kind or another to all of them.” She told him what Sookie had said about his deceased wife, asking whether or not the accusations were true.

  “As much as I’d like to deny it, Wendy did seem to get some perverse pleasure from ferreting out people’s secrets, then exposing them to an audience that would most embarrass her target.”

  The way he said it made her wonder. “Were you ever her target, Mark?”

  “Yes.” He grimaced. “I thought she married me because she loved me. I didn’t understand it, mind you. I just decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was thrilled that she chose me. I mean, back then, she was my fantasy come true.”

  He looked chagrined.

  Livia touched his cheek. “She was lucky to have you.”

  “Maybe if I’d been built…more like I am now, she’d have felt the same.”