by Brenda Hill
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.
I heard the front door open. 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 felt a hard yank on my jacket and was jerked back and slammed against the wall. My briefcase went tumbling down the stairs. Before I could do anything but take a ragged breath, Rick plastered himself against me, smothering me with his body. Clawing again, I went for his face. He grabbed my hands and held them over my head.
I screamed. Terry ran up the stairs.
“What the hell?” Grabbing Rick by the shoulder, he pulled him away from me and drew a fist.
“No! Not my face!” Rick yelled.
My trembling legs folded and I slid to the floor.
Terry threw the punch. Rick’s head flew back, 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.”
“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 were 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. “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. “The cops will see to medical attention if he needs it.”
The cops?
“You’ve gone white, Lisa. Don’t you want him arrested? If I had my way, I’d hang him from his, uh, private parts after what he tried with you.”
“God. Court appearances, a trial . . . I just don’t know if I can handle it all right now.”
“Better decide now. Won’t take them long to get here.”
“Can we just go?”
“Anything you want.” He took my arm. “You’re still trembling.”
I had no answer.
Once outside, he led me to my car. “Wait a minute. Where’s Betty? Wasn’t she supposed to be here?”
He looked chagrined. “As you probably guessed 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 seen. “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.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“Let’s go for a drink,” Terry suggested. “It’ll settle you down.”
“I can’t see you without Betty present,” I managed, my voice almost a croak. What was wrong with me? Was it just the experience with Rick?
“Why not? I’m a friend helping a friend. Nothing wrong with that.”
“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, b
ut that was only because of what he’d done for me. Of course it was, wasn’t it? Yet 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?
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.
I wanted to crawl under the chair. 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 you 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.”
“Why? What is it about me that you seem to like so much? I haven’t led you on, so it can’t be that.”
He said nothing for a moment. “Truthfully?”
“You’ve got two minutes.”
“I’m not sure. You’re an attractive woman, true, but from the moment I looked into your eyes, those big sad eyes, especially in such a tiny body, I wanted to wrap you in my arms and give you all the love I’ve been denied.” He flushed. “I know that sounds like corny, but I mean it.” He didn’t move, except to offer me his hand, silently imploring me to take it.
My heart melted and I took his hand. I knew I’d stay when he’d said he’d been denied. I also wanted to know what he meant about not much time. And maybe part of it, a big part, 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, gett
ing 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.
The hunger in Terry’s eyes was almost the same, and for some strange reason, I couldn’t look away. My breathing quickened and a trickle of sweat rolled under my bra. I swallowed, then realized how dry my throat felt.
How could my mouth be so dry when the rest of my body felt like liquid fire?
I stirred sweetener in my tea, embarrassed to discover my fingers were trembling.
When Terry took my hand and gently squeezed it, I forgot the tea. He ran his thumb over my knuckles and suddenly the sound of dishes clattering and the conversation at the next table evaporated into silence. All I could hear was my heart beating, and with each throb, my traitorous body responded. He raised my hand to his mouth, and holding my eyes with his, he gently brushed the top of my hand with his lips. The touch was so light I shouldn’t have felt much at all, but fire blazed all the way to my toes, melting everything in its path. My nipples hardened, scratching the lace in my bra. My panties flooded with desire.
Here I was, a forty-three-year-old woman and I’d never felt anything like that in my entire life. At that moment, if he’d suggested a motel room, I would have led the way.
Then, like a worm in an apple, I thought of his wife, or ex-wife, as he’d said. For a brief moment I wondered if I could believe him and then realized it didn’t matter. In no way did I want any kind of a relationship with a man, and I had no intentions of leading him or anyone else on. I jerked my hand from his. How could I have allowed myself to respond to this man? And in a public place? I couldn’t look at him.
“This shouldn’t be happening,” I muttered. “I’m newly widowed and you’re a divorced man. By the way, just how long have you been divorced?”
