Sporting Chance: A Raw Romance

by Penny Henry

  There was plenty to occupy Temple's time before Tim showed up. Ben had not been the tidiest of persons. Fortunately Jill Harrison carried out most of the routine work that kept the complex operating. Temple was soon absorbed in sorting through Ben's out-of-date files and membership lists. His collection of martial arts manuals were scattered round the office. Temple cleared a shelf to give them pride of place. Then she started on the drawers of his desk. The paperwork went back years and most of it was consigned to the refuse pile that was building near the door. The office was slowly beginning to take shape. Temple turned her attention to the filing trays that sat in a five-high tower on Ben's desk. The adhesive labels at the front of each tray had little relevance to the actual contents. Dog-eared folders and old mail were mixed with faded memos and well thumbed magazines. The new unopened envelope that had been slipped into a pile of 'Fighter' magazines stood out like a sumo wrestler at a tea dance. Temple gingerly withdrew the envelope from the pile and set it on the desk. It was addressed to Temple Hart.

  Before the blade of the paper knife sliced open the easi-seal envelope, Temple had the sickening feeling she knew what the contents were. It was a lifeline that was too short to reach the drowning man. The fourteen days notice of cancellation had all the impact of a governor's reprieve lost in the mail to an executed man. The dates were exactly as Travis had indicated. Temple coldly folded the useless piece of paper and tossed it onto the trash pile. She screwed the envelope into a tight ball and drew back her arm. Then a random thought struck her and she painstakingly unscrewed the envelope and flattened it with the edge of her palm. There was no postage paid. The letter had been delivered by hand.

  Temple stared blankly at the envelope. A sense of despair swept through her body. She avoided thinking the obvious. There may be another reason. Maybe the letter had been delivered to Ben's office by mistake? But why deliver it to an empty room? And why if it had been delivered in error, was it hidden amongst a pile of old magazines? She brought the thought she had avoided back in her mind. There was only one person that might be desperate for the letter to go undiscovered until it was no longer relevant. Temple wished she had broken Elliot's arm. A knock on the door rudely interrupted Temple's train of thought.

  "Come in," she said absent-mindedly.

  "Hiya, Temple. Grace said you wanted a word with me. I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

  Tim Crane’s craggy face was a welcome sight. "Hi, Tim." Temple pushed back her chair and came round the desk to kiss him on the cheek. "I need your help, Tim, if you can just spare me a few minutes." There was a plea in Temple’s glassy eyes that Tim couldn’t fail to notice.

  "Hey, it can't be that bad, Temple. My time is your time. Go ahead, the Orlando police department can afford it. No problem. Whatever you want."

  "Thanks, Tim." She sniffed back her tears and returned behind Ben's desk still holding tightly to the envelope. "I suppose you have an idea what's been going on since Ben died?"

  "Kind of... Well, at least I've heard the rumors. Sam Hockley keeps us pretty well up to date. But the feeling is that you're on top of it."

  "I wish," said Temple. She managed a wry smile at the mention of Sam's name. "It's turned out not to be that simple. It looks like we might lose the complex after all. That’s unless I can prove that Ben was coerced into signing the contract with Campbell Properties. It’s looking like we don't have much of a chance." She drew in a deep breath and looked apprehensively at Tim.

  Tim leaned forward and rested his hands on the desk. "Is that likely, Temple - that Ben was under pressure? Do you have any evidence that he didn't sign the contract of his own free will?"

  Temple could only give one answer. "No," she admitted. "I just know Ben would not have gone through with it without consulting me. I just know it." The fresh tear that grew and trickled from her eye was all the convincing Tim needed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tim Crane had been a member of the Orlando force too long not to have respect for a woman's intuition. He had also known Ben Gilzean well enough to know that he idolized Temple. He would never have done anything to hurt her. Proving it was another matter entirely. "What have you got there?" asked Tim, looking pointedly at the envelope in Temple's hand.

  Temple held it out to him. She explained its significance and her suspicions at the delayed discovery of the crucial letter. She told Tim of her chancing on Elliot in Ben's office that morning. Then for the second time that day Temple went on to repeat the entire course of events as she understood it. Tim listened to every word without comment. And as she spoke Tim studied her expression with a professional eye. He read only honesty and integrity on her troubled face.

  Temple finished her explanation with a sigh. She leant back in her chair with a sense of resignation. She expected Tim to make the right noises and to be sympathetic. She wasn't expecting him to agree with her suspicions.

  "Something just doesn't sit right," decided Tim. "I can't put my finger on it, but that wasn't the way Ben did things. He was over-cautious if he was anything. And he would never in a million years have let you down."

  "Tim, I think I love you!" exclaimed Temple in relief. "You believe me."

  "Hold on now, Temple. Don’t go getting too excited," cautioned Tim. "Just because we both know Ben would never have done anything to harm you doesn't mean he didn't intended to dispose of the lease. He may have had something in mind that we haven’t figured out yet. But as it is, we can't prove a darn thing either way." Tim lapsed into thought while Temple patiently waited to hear whatever he came up with. "Okay," pronounced Tim. "We need to find out more about Ben's movements on the day. And we need to establish whether or not he did have a female companion that night. She might be somebody who doesn't want her husband to know, or just plain scared. I'll work on it"

  "And Elliot?" asked Temple. "Can't you question him?"

  Tim smiled broadly. "That’s not possible, Temple. We’re not allowed to beat it out of them anymore. It’s all these rules and regulations. They’re a damned nuisance.” Temple grinned. That was the second time that day that someone had wanted to beat the truth out of Elliot. He was that kinda guy. Tim carried on, “We have no suspicions that a crime has been committed. There are no legal grounds to question Elliot. He would have every right to sue the department."

  "Oh, I see," remarked Temple disappointedly. It’s a pity he didn't finish art school and disappear to Europe," she grumbled, "It might have saved everyone a lot of trouble."

  "Art school? Did you say that Elliot was at art school?"

  "Ye— of course!" Temple’s face lit up. She had suddenly remembered the chance remark that Travis had said. Something about Elliot becoming a Disney artist. "Elliot could have forged Ben's signature and staged a heart attack," she said excitedly.

  "Whoa there, young lady." interrupted Tim. "Let's not get too carried away. There's probably a much simpler explanation. You can't just set up a heart attack without some specialized knowledge. We would have a report from the medical examiner in any case. And as far as the forging of Ben's signature is concerned, we couldn't tell that without an expert examination of the original document. Forensics would need to be involved. A photocopy would be no good." Tim paused to let Temple take in the bad news then continued, "The only way we would get the original document is by a court order. And for that we would need a little something called 'reasonable doubt’. At the moment we don't even have a proven motive. Sorry, Temple. We’re gonna need a bit more to go on.

  "Temple looked as dejected as she felt. "That's okay, Tim, it's not your fault. Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked more in hope than expectation.

  "Officially - nothing," Tim told her straight. "But unofficially, let me think about it. I'll call in a few favors and put out the word to the right people." Tim stood up straight. "I'm sorry I can't promise you anything, Temple. But if there’s anything not genuine about this deal, we're gonna find out about it. That’s a promise.”

  Temple jumped up from
her chair and skirted the desk. "Thank you, Tim. You know I really appreciate your help, don't you?" She hugged him tightly. "Can we win this one, do you think, Tim?"

  "We can give it our best shot, Temple. Don't you fret any. Orlando's finest is on the case."

  Temple laughed and opened the door. "See you soon, Tim. Thanks a million."

  Tim departed with a wink and Temple rested her back against the door for a moment. It felt good to have shared her concerns with Tim. He hadn't mocked or patronized her. She could face tomorrow with a little more hope. At last she had given herself a sporting chance.

  She had done enough tidying in Ben's office for one day. She could come back tomorrow with a couple of refuse bags. Three should be enough for the pile of rubbish she had built and the loose trainers and clothes scattered through the cupboards. Temple called in on Jill before she left the complex. The red-head was cheerful and positive. She was also very interested in Temple's revelation on the discovery of the cancellation notice in Ben's office. And no, Elliot hadn't put in an appearance at her office today. Temple left Jill busy as ever and strolled to the parking lot. Elliot's car was long gone. He had obviously completed the task he had come to perform.

  Temple reached the car congratulating herself on not sacking Jill Harrison. The decision had proved to be correct. Without Jill to run the office, Temple would have been too tied up to have any chance of saving Hart Leisure. As it was the chance was somewhere between unlikely and zero. She fired the engine into life and cruised to the parking lot exit. On her way she passed the tail of Tim Cranes anonymous Ford. He was sat in the front seat talking to someone and totally oblivious to Temple’s car passing his tail. It was only when the passenger turned his head to look at Tim that Temple recognized the familiar face. Somehow she felt no surprise that Tim was deep in conversation with the often overlooked figure of Sean Richards.

  Temple cleared her brain as she hit the busy streets. The traffic in Orlando was unforgiving of wandering attention. She had joined the free flowing I-4 before she started to relax and run the events of the last forty-eight hours through her mind. High on her list of priorities came the passion-filled time she had spent in Travis’ arms. She could feel herself growing wet at she relived the passionate encounter. His handsome features invaded every effort she made to dissect the conversations that had taken place between them. She dropped a hand to her groin and shifted in her seat as she rubbed herself. She was finding it difficult to concentrate. But whenever she allowed Travis to dominate her thoughts, whenever she surrendered to the need to picture his face, his head was turned away. Something was diverting Travis’ attention away from Temple. He was distracted by someone calling his name. Temple went cold. She returned her hand to the wheel and focused on the road. Obscuring the space between Temple and Travis was the haunting specter of Melanie Campbell.

  The lights of home were a welcome sight. Until then she hadn't realized how tired she was. The stresses and strains of the past few days had caught up with her. She didn’t plan on doing anything tonight except lounge around the house. The evening passed pleasantly enough in Molly and Angus’ company. She owed them some time to catch up. The conversation somehow revolved around the exploits of Travis Campbell and Temple needed to say very little. Molly and Angus talked incessantly and answered their own questions. It seemed that Travis had made quite an impression during the early years of the Hart Leisure project. He was very much approved of in the household. All except for the reservations held by the pensive young woman that sat with her legs tucked under her bottom listening to the conversation. At ten o'clock Temple yawned, unwound and headed upstairs. She stumbled half-asleep to her bedroom and fell into bed. It didn’t take long for her hands to creep between her legs as the sex-charged memories returned. She took it slowly, raising her knees and making herself comfortable before circling the heel of her palm against her pubic bone and closing her fingers over the burning mound. She circled the fingertips of her other hand on her inner thigh before her hips began to rise against the fingers that slipped between her swollen lips. She dipped a finger inside the wet tunnel and worked it slowly in and out. She added another and began a rhythmic thrusting, lifting her other hand to thumb her clitoris. She was feeling wanton and held herself open with her knees apart as she plunged her fingers deeper into the slippery heat. With one hand diving inside her and the other running riot on her clitoris she surged towards a flooding climax that had arched her spine and curled her toes. Then she lay there, letting the ripples subside as she drifted into peaceful sleep with her hands resting in her pulsing groin.

  The next morning Temple woke refreshed and ready for anything. She showered and dressed unhurriedly, choosing a pair of hip-hugging Levi's and a lime green halter-neck top. She opted for the natural look and kept her makeup to a minimum. A touch of blusher and a lick of lipstick was all she needed. A bright green bandanna topped off her relaxed and confident feeling. It was a feeling that lasted until she heard and separated the drone of voices emanating from the kitchen. The flip of her stomach was the last confirmation she needed. Temple took the bull by the horns and stepped inside the kitchen.

  "Good morning, Molly. Good morning, Angus," and finally, "Good morning, Travis." Temple noticed her over-night bag near the door and chose to ignore its presence. Obviously it was the pretext for Travis' early morning visit.

  "Good morning, Temple," chorused Molly and Angus.

  "Good morning," echoed Travis' laconic drawl.

  "Look who's come to call on us. Isn't this a nice surprise. Isn't it a nice surprise, Angus? Now what will you be wanting for breakfast on such a lovely day?" Molly chatted away to no one in particular.

  "Just the usual please, Molly," said Temple. "I have a really busy day today," she lied, never once meeting Travis' eyes.

  He sat on a stool drinking coffee, putting down his cup before he spoke. "No you haven't," said Travis deliberately. "I called Jill. She told me she could manage just fine. I’m taking you away for the day."

  Angus buried himself in his paper and Molly busied herself at the stove.

  "Pardon me? Of all the nerve!" bit out Temple. "What suddenly gives you the right to manage my life for me? I've managed pretty well up ’til now."

  “Ah, but then you had Ben to look out for you," said Travis evenly.

  "And if it's left to you I won't have anything left to worry about, will I, Mister Travis Campbell?"

  "I didn't come to argue. I'm not looking for a fight."

  "And I 'm not looking for a father figure," retorted Temple. She stared a challenge at him.

  Travis regarded her coolly. He picked up his cup of coffee and raised it to his lips. He was either about to calm Temple down or explode and stalk out.

  "Och well, I think I'll make an early start on the watering. It's going to be a scorcher of a day," muttered Angus, disappearing out of the door.

  "Aye, and I'd best be about ma business," agreed Molly, scurrying head-down from the kitchen.

  Travis grinned, scattering the brewing storm clouds. "A little feisty today, aren't we?” he said before carefully replacing his cup on its saucer.

  "We aren't anything in particular," said Temple frostily. “We haven't been allowed time to wake up yet."

  "I'll make a note of that." He pretended to write on his palm. ‘Temple does not like to be teased before coffee in the morning.’

  "You keep notes on all your conquests, do you?" asked Temple a little friendlier. "How am I doing so far?"

  Travis looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "You are in a league of your own, Temple Hart."

  Temple was beginning to relax. She sauntered across to where he sat, giving him the benefit of her perfumed skin. "I like a man who knows quality when he sees it. Would you like another cup?"

  "No thank you, we have a busy day ahead of us. We'd best get started if we're going to make the most of it."

  Temple wrinkled her nose. He was serious. Travis really did intend to whisk her off for the d
ay. He actually had checked with Jill. Temple felt a childish shiver of excitement. She wasn't sure if she should carry on pretending to be affronted by his presumptuousness. Or should she simply surrender to Travis and allow herself to be taken off to who knows where? The idea of being at the mercy of Travis thrilled her. She flicked a glance to his smiling face. Then her eyes drifted to his broad shoulders beneath the cotton shirt he was wearing. The shirt was pushed into the usual well-fitting jeans. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up on his forearms exposing the knotted sinews that hinted at the power resting within the cowboy. Temple's imagination was waking up and providing every incentive to accept Travis' offer. It would be another opportunity to present the case for Hart Leisure, she reasoned. That was good enough for Temple.

  "Okay," she finally agreed. "What exactly do you have in mind for me?"

  Travis couldn't let the opportunity pass him by. "That's very generous of you, Temple. But maybe we should get to where we're going first."

  Temple appeared to be shocked. She drew in her breath in a gasp and folded her hands on her breast. "Why sir... Is that how you think a gentleman should address a lady?"

  "Who said anything about being a gentleman?"