by Jill Winters
* * *
There was a knock at Seth's door while he was packing up his stuff. "Fucking annoying bullshit," he was grumbling. "Fucking had it with this goddamn annoying bullshit." Another knock, harder, more insistent.
"Yeah, coming," he barked, tossing his suitcase on the bed and running down the stairs. He was going to catch the first flight tomorrow back to Seattle, and he still had a shitload of packing to do. Ever since last night he was in the worst mood, and if this was Sally, she'd better not be bearing more single relatives looking for companions "out west."
When he swung the door open, his mouth dropped. Billy. It had been three days since their fight, and seeing her here in front of him filled him with powerful emotions. Relief... euphoria... frustration.
Goddamn it. Why couldn't he just take her in his arms? Why couldn't it be that easy?
"Hi," she said a little cautiously. "I came to tell you something." Seth just stood there, his face blank and unyielding, so she pushed past him into his house. She paused before she turned to face him. "Seth, I wanted to say that I'm sorry." He didn't look opposed to her continuing, so she did. "I'm sorry about all the stuff I said the other night. I didn't mean... I was just upset. Because of what you said about Mark—I mean, it just reminded me that you're leaving again and I don't want you to go."
"I'm staying."
She blinked at him. "What?"
"I'm staying," he said again.
"You are?"
"Well, I'm going back to Seattle to take care of some things, but then I'm moving back." He'd made Lucas a good offer for the firm, and Lucas had practically jumped through the phone. It was no wonder; the company was in good shape, with the loyal, thriving clientele that Seth had built up. But he couldn't help that he just didn't give a damn anymore. Of course he cared about his career and his future—a lot—but he supposed the shift now was in equating his career with his future, making it the center. There was something hollow and unsatisfying about that. He wanted more. He wanted serene nights in Churchill, the maple trees, the glowing autumn sunlight, the stormy blue-black nights. He wanted a woman like Billy to love and to sleep with and to share his life with.
"Why?" Billy asked now, swallowing a lump of emotion clogged in her throat. "I mean, when did you decide this?"
Seth said, "It's been on my mind ever since I got back. Things just feel better around here. To be honest, I don't even like Seattle. It's gray, it's dismal, and... I'm lonely as hell. So I'm selling the firm to my VP and buying the house from my mom."
She just stood there, looking stupidly confused and shell-shocked, and Seth came to her, put his hands on her face, touched her cheeks, her heart, and said, "I love you, Billy."
Tears rose quickly, choking her, stinging her eyes, blurring everything, even Seth's beautiful face, and breathing new life into her. "That's what I was gonna say," she murmured, and pulled him down to kiss her. With a short laugh Seth pulled her body up against his, hugging her so tight she could barely breathe, and Billy clung even tighter. "I love you," she said. Her voice was a soft whisper of breath against his shoulder, which was dampening with her tears. "I love you so much."
"I love you" he said, and slanted his mouth over hers, capturing it in a slow, deep kiss. It was gentle and warm and lingering, but Billy's urgent mouth coaxed for more.
When their lips parted Seth pressed his forehead to hers, and then he kissed her again—with more intensity, with complete possession—and Billy made a small, strangled sound in the back of her throat and wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping him to her and possessing him back.
"Ohh," she moaned when the kiss broke momentarily, "Seth..." His mouth devoured hers again, and he swept her off her feet into his arms and headed up the stairs.
She yelped in surprise. "You're gonna hurt yourself!"
"No, I'm not," he said hurriedly—breathlessly—dragging sucking kisses along her neck as he maneuvered up the stairs and down the hall. Hazily, Billy noted the strength of his arms, the strained curve of muscles as he held her, the way she felt so protected and insulated, and when they got to his room they both fell on the bed. "Let's start in bed this time," Seth said, grinning and tipping her face up so her parted mouth was less than an inch from his.
But he didn't kiss her.
Instead, in a blatantly sexual gesture, he slicked his tongue along her bottom lip... and when her mouth dropped open, he licked her tongue. She moaned and rocked her hips on the bed, and Seth climbed on top of her. "I love you so much," he muttered, his voice low and urgent. His words filled her up, drugged her, as his head descended between her breasts and his hands descended on her jeans.
Lightly he bit her nipple through her shirt, just enough to make her yelp, then yanked her jeans and panties down in one quick motion. He looked down at her half-naked body and groaned, a thick, guttural sound that reminded Billy how hungry and feral Seth was in bed—yum—and the next thing she knew he had a bared nipple in his mouth and two fingers inside her, and she was vibrating off the bed in sharp, jerky movements, begging him not to stop. And she was so wet she could hear the sluicing sounds of his fingers fucking her.
"Ohhh," Billy moaned as Seth kissed down her stomach, then licked her clitoris, sucked gently on it.
Pushing his fingers deeper, harder, as he licked her, Seth drove her to the brink of orgasm. Blood rang in her ears, and her heartbeat sped up, her cheeks burned, and her crotch flamed. Seth rose up on his knees, whipped off his shirt, tossed it somewhere, then unbuckled his belt.
She tried to stretch up, to reach for him, but she was too weak, too spent already, and her body ached... and craved more. Once Seth got the front of his pants undone, he shoved them and his boxers down enough to free his penis, then grabbed a condom from the drawer in the nightstand. He didn't have to do anything to get her ready for sex, but he did it anyway, working his hand inside her again, withdrawing, then thrusting again.
"Oh... yes... yes," she whispered, begged almost. But instead of listening to her, Seth withdrew his fingers and stopped touching her altogether, except for the hands on her knees spreading her legs wide. He paused, just letting her lie there hot, trembling, wet, needy, and the moments ticked by brutally.
Billy twisted on the bed, arching her back, squirming under Seth's strength, and finally lost her patience. "Come on...."
Seth positioned himself, then thrust inside her. "Goddamn," he said, his voice tight with strain.
Together they found a rhythm, rocking back and forth, up and down. Seth's hips jerked as Billy rose to meet each thrust, and then, just when the friction got too hot, too unbearable, Seth pulled out.
Why was he stopping? Why, why, why...?
They both panted hard as Seth rose up on his knees and just waited.
Waited for what? "Oh!"
He drove inside her again, lifting her legs up to bring him even deeper than before. With her head pressed back into the pillows, Billy moaned, almost silently, because she could barely speak. "Jesus," Seth muttered thickly, and launched into a succession of hard, powerful thrusts, each one driving Billy's hips off the bed until she started to come. Then he growled, dropped his head back, and shook as he came.
Seth gathered her up in his arms and rolled over so they were lying side by side, facing each other. He kissed her forehead, and she could feel the dampness of his skin when she stroked his neck and shoulder. Still vibrating from what had just happened, she felt like she wanted to lie there forever, exhausted, drained, and satisfied.
"I love you," he said. "I guess I always have."
Suddenly Billy's nose burned—the acute stinging of impending tears. She mumbled something into the warmth of Seth's chest. It was strong but had a comforting softness, as if it were cushioning her head, making everything feel safe and warm and insulated. And she could hear the strong thumping of his heart, which gave her an inexplicable rush of euphoria. Seth was real, he was really there with her, and he was hers. "Billy?" Seth said gently, and snuggled her closer. "Are
you okay?" Now she started to cry—again. It would almost be funny if it didn't all mean so much. "What is it, sweetheart? Are those tears of joy?" he asked hopefully.
"I just... I just love you so much!" she said, and cried some more. Somehow every emotion she'd struggled to keep in check since she first laid eyes on Seth again was brimming on the surface now, bursting out with very little provocation.
Seth smiled against her sweaty temple, and kissed her there. "You're too much woman for me," he whispered teasingly. Then, smiling, he added, "But you're still all mine."
Chapter 29
They'd been lying there for she didn't know how long, talking about the future—and talking about the past. "I wish you'd come with me when I moved," Seth said.
"You never asked," Billy blurted.
"You're right. But I didn't feel I could ask. We'd only been dating a few months. I couldn't ask you to pick up everything and move."
"And I couldn't ask you to stay," Billy said, which was obvious.
"Anyway, we're together now," Seth said softly, and kissed her cheek. "Now what about that guy, Mark?"
"Oh," Billy said, waving her hand through the air. "It was never serious with him. I'll tell him it's totally over."
"Okay, good," Seth said, sounding relieved.
Suddenly Billy shot up in bed, just realizing. "Wait, what time is it?"
"Uh..." Seth rolled onto his back and checked the alarm clock on the side table. "Almost three o'clock."
"What!" she yelped, hopping up, not even thinking about her nakedness as she scrambled around for her clothes. "I've gotta get back to the city. I'm supposed to work at Bella Donna at three-thirty!"
Seth sat up, running his hand through his rumpled hair. "Wait, I'll drive you," he said, and got out of bed to put his clothes on. Biting her lip, Billy looked lustfully at his body, sleek and muscled, but soft and smooth, and his rounded, perfect butt... Okay, this wasn't getting her to work on time.
"No, I don't have time. There's a big detour on the way to my apartment, and I have to stop there first to check on Pike. It'll be faster if I take the train right to Brookline."
"Are you sure?" She nodded. "Okay, but I'll pick you up when you close tonight." Billy smiled at him then—tenderly, euphorically—so filled with emotion she knew the high couldn't last. Or could it? "By the way, is it gonna be weird seeing Melissa tonight?" Seth asked, tossing his shirt over his head.
"No, she's not working." As fate would have it—thank God—she hadn't worked the same shift with Melissa since their confrontation. "So what are you going to do while I'm at work?" Billy added, smiling almost coyly as she wrapped her arms around Seth's waist, pressing her body to his. She rubbed her pelvis against him and felt his dick stir with arousal.
"Don't tease me," Seth said, grinning, firmly putting his hands on her hips to stop the rocking.
"Sorry," Billy replied, smiling.
"Uh-huh. Anyway, I don't know what I'll do. Now that I know you're not in danger anymore, and that what happened with Melissa wasn't related to Ted Schneider's death, I'm feeling a lot more relaxed."
"I still say he was murdered," Billy said.
Seth nodded. "I know it's a possibility, but at this point maybe we should just give up the quest. We seem to have hit a dead end."
"True. And it's not like I have anything great to tell my aunt Pen about him anyway. I'd hoped I'd have some heroic truth to make her feel better about his leaving her, but when I talked to her the other day, I realized that she honestly doesn't need any cheering up. Her life is so full and..." With a sigh, Billy said simply, "She's perfect as far as I'm concerned."
Grinning down at her, Seth pulled her close and pressed a warm, gentle kiss to her mouth. "I love you," he said softly.
I love you, too, Billy thought, and made a concerted effort not to cry.
* * *
After checking on Pike, Billy hopped down the stairs to the lobby of her brownstone, pausing at her mailbox on the wall. She wasn't expecting anything good, just bills and ads, but very disturbingly, she'd set her hopes too high.
Among the bills and ads was a plain white envelope. It had Billy's name and address printed neatly on it, in blue ink and all caps, and there was no return address.
It lay mysteriously in her pile of mail, setting her on edge. Until she reminded herself that the threatening notes she'd gotten before had been from Melissa, who hadn't bothered her since their confrontation, and who ultimately seemed to be harmless. Twisted but harmless.
Running her finger under the seam of the sealed envelope, Billy tore it open. She pulled out the slip of paper inside and unfolded it. "Oh, no," she whispered as she read, feeling her heart slam hard against her ribs and hearing it pound fiercely in her ears.
Her stomach clenched nervously as she pressed a hand to her chest and swallowed a full, solid lump of near terror in her throat. "Oh, no, what's happening?"
She flipped over the torn envelope to check the postmark.
Churchill, Massachusetts.
Swallowing hard, Billy pressed a hand to her racing heart and another to her forehead. She shut her eyes and tried not to panic, but it was too late.
Someone in Churchill had sent her a note that said, You'd better stop what you're doing—before you die.
* * *
That evening while Billy was at work, Seth surfed the Net, anxiously trying to find any information he could about Ted Schneider, Greg Dappaport, and a dozen random people in Churchill he could think of. He had been so shocked by Billy's frantic call earlier, telling him about the letter she'd received. He couldn't believe it! He'd thought the threats were over; he'd thought she was completely safe.
Cursing out loud when his computer froze, he banged hard on the keyboard. The mouse kicked back in, which undoubtedly had nothing to do with Seth.
He couldn't even look at the pizza that had gone cold, or the can of Coke he'd popped open right before Billy had called. Goddamn it. He hated feeling so powerless to protect her. If it had been up to him he would've insisted that Billy skip work tonight and go straight to the police with him, but she'd called him from the Copley Mall, telling him that she wanted to go, that at least she felt safe there, and that they would go to the police when he picked her up.
He'd left a message for Joe, but was still waiting to hear back, and in the meantime he was a desperate man scouring the Internet for any scrap of useful information. Who the hell could be behind this? Was it someone he knew, for chrissake?
When he reached across his desk for a pen and pad, he accidentally knocked his mouse, causing it to click the translation bar on his browser. He hit "back" without even thinking, but then registered something he'd just seen.
Quickly, Seth hit "forward," pressed "reload," and reread a link that came up on his screen: English Translations of German Surnames. He zeroed in on one name in particular, and when he clicked on the link, it took him only a few seconds to find the answer.
* * *
Work had gone by pretty uneventfully that night. Donna had been in the back for the past few hours, keeping to herself. Apparently Des was still holding a grudge against Billy, because he'd been giving her the semi-silent treatment all night; finally she'd given up on him, and whenever she'd had a question she'd covertly asked Katie's grandmother to ask for her. It was all very ridiculous, and Billy might even laugh if she weren't so preoccupied thinking about the note she'd gotten a few hours earlier.
She'd called Melissa's cell phone to ask her if she knew anything about it—i.e., did it—but predictably Melissa hadn't called her back. But Billy didn't believe it was Melissa. Not this time. She might be bitter, but she wasn't certifiable, and she definitely didn't want to get in trouble with the law. But, God, who?
It had occurred to her that maybe Joe had been right. He'd made a comment at Uno's that maybe someone didn't like the idea of Billy and Seth spending so much time together. Billy had blown it off at the time. But now...
Pam kept popping into her mind.
Not that Pam wanted Seth, but there was no question that her aunt Sally wanted Seth for Pam. The question was: How much did she want it?
The bakery had been closed for about ten minutes now. The light was shut off in the front, and everyone was working in the back when, all of a sudden, Billy went to shut down the register and heard someone calling her name. She looked up. Seth was standing outside the metal gate that locked the store. Instinctively she checked the clock on the wall, because she wasn't expecting Seth until after cleanup, which wouldn't be for about another half hour.
"Sweetheart, I need to talk to you," Seth whispered, motioning with his hand for her to come closer.
Eyes wide with surprise, Billy darted to the side door, unlocked it, and let him inside. "Seth, what's up? You're early—is everything okay?"
"Yeah, but I couldn't wait till later to tell you this."
"What?"
"I figured out who killed Ted."
"You did?" she said, shocked. "Omigod, who? And how did you figure it out?"
"It was an accident. And you're not even going to believe it." After he explained about stumbling onto the wrong Web site, he said, "See, Schneider is a German name."
"Yeah..."
"And 'schneider' in English means 'tailor.' "
"I knew I should've changed my name."
Billy and Seth whipped their heads around. Mrs. Tailor, who must've overheard Seth say that he'd solved Ted's murder, had come quietly out of the back... and was dragging Des along with her, holding a knife to his throat.
* * *
"All right, now just do what I say and I won't have to splatter Des's guts on the floor," Mrs. Tailor said, her voice holding a steely calm. The image was ridiculous; she was a little wizened woman and Des was a young, quasi-virile man, but she must've caught him at a vulnerable moment, and now the knifepoint was digging so far into his neck, Billy couldn't believe he wasn't bleeding yet.
"Oh, my God, Mrs. Tailor," Billy stammered. "I don't understand this." She looked to Seth for clarification, and he took her hand and squeezed it for comfort. Then it clicked. "Wait a minute—you're Gertrude Swain?"
