“You’re blind, Cecilia,” he said the words flatly, but they struck her with the force of a pointed jab. “I need to have my attention solely on the Casanova case.” He sounded angry. “Don’t give me a hard time about this. What I don’t need is to be at work trying to deal with Casanova yet worrying about you. Beginning tomorrow, there will be a deputy with you when I’m not home. And that’s the end of this discussion.”
He got out of the car and slammed the door. Allison opened the passenger door, but waited for him to escort her into the house, wishing with all her heart she could make it inside on her own.
But he’d been very clear in reminding her of her limitations. And in his angry words, she’d also been reminded of the fact that she was nothing more to him than a responsibility he was forced to handle. She would do well to remember that.
“Come on, Jesse. We’d better get home,” Paul said worriedly. “It’s getting late and the weather is supposed to get bad.”
“In just a little while we’ll go,” Jesse replied, yelling to be heard above the din of the music. It was the best party he’d been to all year.
Suddenly, the scene changed. The party was gone, the music silent and Jesse and Paul were in Jesse’s dad’s car driving home. Paul had been right. They should have left the party earlier. Ice pellets bounced against their car window as they drove the isolated two-lane road home.
Jesse knew he was dreaming, and he fought against the continuation of the nightmare, wanting—needing—to awaken before the horrifying ending. And in his dream, the road gleamed black with ice, and he saw the tree in the distance…a twisted, gnarled tree that drew closer…closer…
He sat up with a strangled gasp, his heart racing, his body covered in a sheen of light perspiration.
He released a ragged breath of relief as he recognized that he’d left his dreamscape behind and was not in the car careening toward disaster, but rather in the comfort and safety of his own room.
Knowing from past experience that sleep remained elusive after one of these nightmares, he got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. He turned on his bedside lamp, grabbed the files he’d brought home from the office, then left the bedroom.
As he walked past Cecilia’s closed door, a trace of guilt swept through him. He’d hurt her feelings in the car. He’d taken the day’s frustrations and vented them on her. Still, he wasn’t about to leave her home alone, especially with the new development in the Casanova case. He’d told her the truth; he couldn’t afford to leave her on her own and worry about her.
In the kitchen he turned on the light, grabbed a soda, then settled himself at the table with some case files. He popped the top of the drink and took a long swallow, waiting for his heartbeat to resume a more normal pace.
He hadn’t had that nightmare in years, thought he’d finally put the past far behind him. But Cecilia’s blindness had brought it all back to him—the pain…and the guilt.
Not guilt, he protested. He had nothing to feel guilty about. It had been an accident, a tragic misfortune of fate. A little voice niggled in his mind. You ran away. You ran as far and as fast as you could from Paul when you realized he was blind for life. You were a coward who couldn’t handle his pain.
“No,” the single-word protest whispered from him. No, he hadn’t run. He’d moved on to make things easier for Paul, afraid that his continued presence in Paul’s life would make things more difficult for his best friend. It had been the right thing to do.
Jesse raked his hand through his hair and opened the first file in front of him and focused on the information contained within.
He didn’t know how long he’d been at it when a noise roused him from his work. He looked up to see Cecilia in the doorway.
“Jesse?”
“Yeah, I’m here at the table,” he said. She looked as beautiful as she’d looked that morning when she’d shared the tragic circumstances that had brought her here. Clad in sky-blue nightgown and robe, with her hair slightly tousled, she looked charmingly vulnerable, achingly touchable.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked as she sat down across from him. He could smell summer flowers and he noticed how the blue of her nightclothes intensified the verdant shade of her eyes.
“Too much on my mind,” he replied, and looked down at the files spread out across the table.
“What time is it?” she asked.
Jesse looked at the clock on the oven. “Almost one. What are you doing awake?”
She shrugged, the movement causing her robe to gap open enough for him to see her delicate collarbone and an expanse of creamy skin.
Desire hit him like a sizzling lightning bolt through his center. His heart boomed with the force of a hundred claps of thunder as he fought against the storm of wanting.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Again he averted his gaze from her. “I’ve been looking over the reports, trying to find something, anything that might point to who is committing these Casanova crimes.”
“Have you found anything?”
“No. I think I’m too tired to think.” He hesitated a moment. “I’m sorry if I was brusque before…in the car.”
She waved her hand to dismiss his apology. “Please, don’t apologize. You have a crime to solve, and the last thing I want to do is get in your way. If you can do your job better by having a deputy stay with me, then so be it.”
“Thanks for understanding,” he said. He studied her for a long moment. “What’s it like…to be blind?” He didn’t know he was going to ask the question, but once it left his lips, he realized it was something he wanted—needed—to know.
“I don’t think it’s something that can be explained. It has to be experienced,” she said. “Turn out the light.”
Jesse hesitated, already regretting the impulsive question, a question he knew was partially provoked by the nightmare he’d suffered earlier and thoughts of the man who had once been his friend.
“What’s wrong, Sheriff? Afraid of the dark?” she asked, her voice holding a faint taunt.
“Of course not,” he replied tersely. He stood and walked to the light switch on the wall. He turned it off, banishing the light from the room. It took only a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“Tell me what you see.” Her voice was soft.
“I see shadows…illumination around the window, moonbeams on the wall.”
“Then you aren’t blind yet.”
He saw her rise from the table and approach where he stood. She passed through a silvery stream of moonlight, and Jesse’s heart quickened at her beauty. The air seemed to thicken, making it more difficult for him to breathe.
She stopped when she stood mere inches from him and held out her hand. “Come with me.”
Curious, he placed his hand in hers and allowed her to lead him through the living room, down the hallway and into her bedroom. Jesse’s heart hammered more rapidly in his chest. What was she doing?
As she opened the closet, he realized exactly what she intended. “Welcome to my world,” she said as she pulled him into the small confines and shut the door.
Inside, the darkness was complete. There were no shadows, no break at all in the blackness that surrounded him.
“Let’s sit,” she said, and tugged him down to the floor of the closet. He sat with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up toward his chest. The feel of her body pressed against his side and her sweet fragrance enveloped him.
This isn’t so bad, he thought. The dark wasn’t as threatening as he’d imagined it might be. In fact, there was something oddly peaceful about it.
She shifted positions so that he had no physical contact with her whatsoever. In a single instant the darkness became disorienting, deeper and more profound. The momentary sense of peace fled and Jesse felt as if he’d been swallowed into the hole where loneliness abided.
Panic welled up inside him, a panic he’d never experienced before. Just as he was about to jump up and open the
closet door, seek some kind of light to banish the darkness, her hand found his again and the anxiety ebbed.
“I can’t tell you what everyone else’s experience is like,” she explained. “I can only tell you what mine has been like. At first it was so scary. Sometimes it still is.”
“At first it wasn’t so bad, but then it made me feel very alone.”
“Exactly.” She squeezed his hand more tightly. “But it isn’t all bad.”
“What’s good about it?” Jesse asked, now unable to imagine anything positive about being blind.
She released his hand once again, but her body relaxed against his side, warming him and keeping that momentary sense of utter isolation away.
“There’s a certain peace contained in the darkness. Without the detraction of anything visual, it gives me more opportunity to think, to assess. Concentration is easier, and awareness is more acute. I can focus on a single sensory detail and not be distracted by anything else.”
Jesse knew exactly what she was talking about. Without vision, he was intensely aware of her softness next to him, her scent bewitching him.
Without visual input, his mind was free to create its own images, and the image that kept returning again and again in his mind was of her, dark hair in disarray, eyes an inviting green that enhanced the whisper-soft silk caressing her curves.
The darkness they shared in the closet evoked a compelling intimacy between them, and for just a brief moment Jesse wanted to tell her about Paul, and the accident, and the heartache that still had the capacity to haunt him.
He fought the impulse and instead rose to his feet in the small enclosure. “It’s late. We should be in bed.” The simple statement suddenly took on the color of a double entendre and his cheeks warmed in response.
He opened the closet door, then reached back in for her hand and pulled her up. She rose far too close to him and before he had time to think, before he could stop his crazy impulse, he pressed his mouth to the sweet curve of hers.
Chapter 6
The kiss caught her by surprise, but only momentarily. As Jesse’s lips plied hers with fiery intent, Allison realized how much she’d wanted his kiss.
She wound her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to him, touching his tongue with the tip of hers. Her fingers splayed at the nape of his neck, reveling in the feel of his soft, thick hair.
He groaned and deepened the kiss as his arms pulled her tight against him. He drank of her, evoking a spark of desire deep within her as his hands stroked up her back, then down to her waist.
For the past month, Allison had felt lost in the dark, but Jesse’s kiss, the warmth of his arms around her, the strength of his body so close to hers, provided a beacon of light that danced in her heart.
With an abruptness that stole her breath and doused that momentary light, he broke the kiss and stepped back, breaking all physical contact between them.
“I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I’m usually smart enough not to mix business and pleasure,” he said, his voice brusque and deep.
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, wondering how it was possible for the darkness of her world to grow deeper, more profound. “Let’s just say the circumstances of too little sleep and too much night got the best of us.”
“Good. I’m glad you understand. I’ll just say good-night.”
She knew the instant he left the room, felt his overwhelming presence gone from the air.
For a moment she remained absolutely still, her lips still retaining the heat, the imprint of his. The kiss had stolen her breath away. Even now, breathing was more difficult than it had been before his mouth had claimed hers.
Finally she took off her robe and climbed back into bed.
She didn’t understand why he’d kissed her at all, but more, she didn’t understand why his kiss had rocked her so thoroughly. It wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed before.
She’d been involved in an intimate relationship once, several years ago. His name was Roger and he’d been her very first client.
She’d redecorated his apartment and they’d started dating. Within months, he was telling her he loved her, then trying to change everything about her. Their relationship had lasted six months. She’d realized he was more into control than love.
Still, none of Roger’s kisses had moved her as quickly, as easily as Jesse’s had. Her lips still burned with the memory of his touch.
He could have taken her to the bed and made love to her and she wouldn’t have uttered a single word of protest. In fact, she would have encouraged him to make love to her, encouraged him to touch her, kiss her, meld with her.
And then what? She rolled over onto her back and stared blankly upward. He was a confirmed bachelor and professed to have no use for a wife or a family.
She was a woman in personal crisis, waiting to regain a life she had loved. This time in Mustang, this time with Jesse was a mere interlude, a forced intermission in her life. And when the intermission was over and the movie began again, she would be back in Chicago, back in her Camelot.
She cursed her sightless eyes. When would the darkness lift? The doctor had told her that if her sight was to return at all, it would return when she felt safe and secure. What if they never arrested John and Alicia’s killers? What if she had to look over her shoulder for the rest of her life? Did that mean that she would never regain her sight?
She fought against a rising sense of panic. She was safe for now, here with Jesse, and at any moment she could open her eyes and find that her vision had returned.
What she couldn’t do was allow herself to do something stupid, something crazy with Jesse. She didn’t want to find herself with her sight restored, only to discover that her heart had been broken.
Shoving away thoughts of Jesse, of her blindness and of her circumstances, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When she awakened, she instantly realized it must be later in the day than when she usually woke up. The sunbeams she felt dancing through the window held the warmth of late morning. She dressed quickly, raked a brush through her hair, then dashed into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.
“Jesse?” she called moments later as she walked down the hallway to the living room.
“He’s not here,” a perky female voice replied from the direction of the sofa. “He left earlier for work.”
“You must be Shelly,” Allison said.
“That’s right. Deputy Shelly Wattsman. And you’re Cecilia, the lucky woman who captured our elusive sheriff’s heart. I’ve got coffee on in the kitchen. Want a cup?”
“Sounds good,” Allison agreed. Together the two women went into the kitchen. Allison took her usual place at the table and murmured her thanks as Shelly set a cup of coffee in front of her.
“I’m sorry you find yourself stuck with baby-sitting duty,” Allison said apologetically when she knew Shelly had joined her at the table.
“Don’t sweat it,” Shelly replied with a light, friendly tone. “So, you want me to tell you what I look like?”
“Okay,” Allison replied with surprise.
“I have long blond hair and blue eyes. I’m five foot ten and weigh one hundred and fifteen pounds. Most of that weight is in my large, perfectly formed breasts.” She paused a moment, then laughed. “Of course, you know I’m lying through my teeth.”
Allison laughed, as well, instinctively knowing she was going to like Shelly. “Of course.”
“Actually, I have naturally curly brown hair that I hate and brown eyes. I’m five foot four, weigh a hundred and forty pounds, and most of that weight I carry in my butt.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Shelly,” Allison replied.
“Same here. So, tell me what you think of our little town.”
Allison took a sip of her coffee, then replied. “Of course I can’t comment on the beauty of Mustang, although Jesse assures me it’s a picturesque little town. I can tell you the people I’ve met have been very kind
.”
“I was born and raised here and have never considered living anywhere else. Nonetheless, people coming here from a bigger city probably experience culture shock. They’ve probably never had the experience of living in a town where, if you belch, within minutes everyone knows about it.”
Allison laughed. The humor felt good, banishing a strange, lingering melancholy from the events of the night before. Not the events, she mentally corrected herself. It had been a single event—Jesse’s kiss and the knowledge that to repeat the pleasure would be utterly foolish—that had created the melancholy.
“Jesse told me you were a huge help yesterday with Maggie,” Shelly said.
Allison shrugged. “I did what anyone would do. I offered her support.”
“Poor Maggie.”
“What do you think? One man, or was Maggie’s assailant a copycat?”
“Who knows? Sad state of affairs in any case. Hard to believe one of our own is committing these crimes. Whoever it is, eventually we’ll catch the creep. We might be a small town, but we have a good team of law enforcers.”
“Tell me about the deputies,” Allison said, enjoying the conversation and Shelly’s friendliness, after having spent so much time alone and isolated.
“Well, there’s Burt Ramsey. He’s about forty-five years old, married and has two kids. A laid-back, nice guy. Then there’s Vic Taylor. Vic is a big overstuffed teddy bear. He’s always dieting and constantly trying to find a girl who’ll take him seriously. Then there’s Sam Black.” Shelly paused, and Allison heard her take a sip of her coffee.
“Sam is handsome as sin, a real ladies’ man and so full of himself, he makes me sick.”
Despite the words spoken, Allison heard something telling in Shelly’s voice. “You like him,” she observed.
There was a long pause, then Shelly sighed. “I’m crazy about the lug, but there’s no way I’ll give him the satisfaction of knowing that.”
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