by Unknown
Afraid she might hyperventilate, Cyn took deep
breaths, the sound raggedy to her ears. She wouldn’t have
been more shocked if Mike had shape-shifted into a
panther.
44
Bridge of Hope
Immediately, he became Mr. Concern. “Are you all
right?”
“No.” She gasped a few times before she managed to
gain control of her breathing. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’m happy it’s in the open. Now we can get to know
each other and—”
“No!” Cyn startled herself with the vehemence of her
response. “Didn’t you understand what I said? I’m not
ready to tackle a serious relationship. I can’t take that
chance. I’ve come this far. I need to know I’m a whole
person.”
Cyn blinked at the curtain of hurt that descended
over Mike’s face.
“I see. So until you decide you’re a new woman who
can handle a relationship, we continue as before, ignoring
what’s growing between us?”
“We have to.”
Mike rose, picked up his glass and drained the
contents in one swallow. “You’ve made a unilateral
decision. I’m not sure why you even bothered to tell me.
Since you’ve been so honest, now it’s my turn.”
Cyn frowned. This was a new side of Mike. But could
she blame him for being angry?
“I want a partner who’s willing to give as well as
take. One that shares problems and is willing to work
them out—with me. I need someone who doesn’t make
decisions that affect both of us without discussing the
issue first.”
Cyn stumbled to her feet. “You don’t understand.”
His gaze roamed her face. She saw no softening in his
eyes. “Unfortunately, I think I do.” He started toward the
stairs, and then looked over his shoulder. “I’ll see you
tomorrow. Lock the door behind you.”
Cyn stood in stunned silence long after Mike left,
feeling like she’d spent the last hour in a blender on high
speed. On wobbly legs she left the house and crossed the
yard to her apartment. But it wasn’t her apartment, not
really. What if Mike wanted her to leave sooner rather
45
Pam Champagne
than later?
She lifted her chin. If so, she’d deal with it. Even
though she’d hurt him tonight, someday he’d thank her.
****
“You handled that well,” Mike said to the empty bedroom. He rested his head against the glass pane and
watched Cyn scurry across the lawn. He pulled over a
rocking chair and opened the window. An owl hooted in
the near distance. Bullfrogs croaked a symphony from
behind the house. He filled his lungs with the delicious
scent of sweet pepper bush. Sounds of the night generally
brought him comfort. So quiet, so peaceful; yet tonight it
did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.
He hadn’t wanted a woman so bad since Mary Jo.
Not only in his bed but in his life. He’d been a fool to tell
Cyn how he felt. Now, he’d have to live with the
consequences. Both of them would feel the strain. There’d
be no more camaraderie like there’d been for the last
several months.
One by one the lights in her apartment went out.
What were her thoughts as she climbed into bed? Did she,
like him, regret opening the can of worms? Or did she lie
in bed, thinking the time had arrived to leave what had
been her sanctuary since Peter died?
Goosebumps covered his arms two seconds before he
bolted out of the chair. His jaw dropped as he watched
Peter Jenks materialize. “Just going to give up and let
Cyn slip away?”
Mike wiped a shaky hand across his eyes. “Jesus,
Jenks. You know better than to sneak up on a man.”
“I no longer have to worry about the ramifications of
that, Sir.”
Mike loosened the top button of his shirt. Sweat
broke out at the sudden appearance of the dead tech
sergeant. He lowered himself back in the chair and
cleared his throat. “Cyn’s doing just fine.”
“I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on her. She has
accepted my death and is moving on.”
46
Bridge of Hope
Mike studied the apparition. Peter’s spirit had
changed since the night on the bridge. Tonight he was
almost translucent.
“You can tell I’m fading,” Peter stated in a matter-of-
fact tone. “It’s near time for me to move on. I’d hoped to
see you two together before that happened.”
Mike wanted to groan. How did he explain to a dead
man that the last thing his wife wanted was someone to
take care of her? “Don’t worry.”
“You never answered me. Are you gonna fight for
her?” “Look, this conversation is way too strange.”
“Do you deny having feelings for Cyn?”
“No. I care—more than I should. She’s not
interested.”
“Up to you to make sure she gets interested, Sir.”
“You’re wrong, Jenks. Cyn’s right. She has to find her
own way this time.”
Mike prepared for an argument and was surprised
when Jenks spoke. “You’re right.” The young man’s spirit
had further faded until it was barely discernible. He
doubted he’d be seeing the young soldier again.
“I’m rooting for you, Sir!” The young soldier vanished
so fast, Mike wondered if he’d imagined the whole
incident.
He bent to unlace his boots. This had been one hell of
a strange night. The woman he’d fallen for didn’t want his
love. Yet, her dead husband was on his side.
He was tempted to punch the wall. He wanted to yell.
Because of Katy sleeping down the hall, he did nothing
but struggle out of his uniform and made a beeline for the
bed. He’d sort it all out in the morning.
47
Pam Champagne
Chapter Eight
The nerves in Cyn’s stomach weren’t fluttering
because her date was late. They churned for Mike. A
month had passed since they’d admitted their growing
feelings. Four weeks of ignoring the sparks ricocheting off
the walls whenever they were in the same room.
Yet, neither made a single move to cross the
imaginary line drawn in the sand.
The tension skyrocketed this afternoon when she’d
told Mike and Katy she wouldn’t be there for supper
because she had a date. She might as well have dropped a
live bomb on the floor if the shocked horror on their faces
was anything to go by.
Cyn cringed at the memory. Katy had run from the
kitchen. After one accusatory glance in her direction,
Mike had followed his daughter without saying a word.
Cyn made her fifth trip across the room and stood in
front of the full-length mirror, twisting her body one way
and then the other. Slip not showing. Hair in place.
Where was John? According to her bedside clock, he was
fifteen minutes late.
She picked up the picture on her bureau and ran her
finger over Peter’s image. Her vision blurred. The frame
clattered to the floor. Mike stared back, instead of Peter.
She squeezed her eyelids tight. When she opened them,
Peter once again smiled at her.
A sharp knock sounded on the door. “Coming,” she
muttered. Another knock. This time loud enough to be
considered rude.
She opened the door and stared in amazement at the
young man standing stiff on the threshold, a frown etched
48
Bridge of Hope
on his forehead. Her gaze traveled over his three-piece
suit and came to rest on spiffy black wing-tip shoes.
Somehow this young professional bore no resemblance to
the man with whom she’d shared conversations in the
library. She’d been looking forward to a friendly casual
dinner, sharing a few laughs. Somehow she doubted her
scenario would play out.
“Cynthia, are you ready?” His terse tone grated on
her nerves. “We’ll be late. I made reservations for eight.”
His gaze passed down her body in one quick sweep.
It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know she’d come up
lacking. Maybe she should say good night right now and
save them both from a boring evening. “Actually I’ve been
ready for at least thirty minutes. You’re twenty minutes
late.” John’s open-mouthed expression was priceless. She
damn near burst with pride that she’d stood up for
herself. Brushing by, she flounced down the stairs without
looking back to see if he followed.
Once on the highway, John maneuvered the red
sports car like a pro, weaving in and out of traffic.
“Handles like an obedient woman,” he bragged and
ignored the blare of a horn from an outraged motorist he’d
just cut off.
“Excuse me?” She hoped the ice in her voice froze his
ass. His gaze slid to her, and the idiot had the audacity to
grin. “Lighten up. I’m joking.”
Somehow she doubted it.
At sixty miles per hour he managed to read a
billboard touting the Republicans in 2008. “Dream on you
conservative bastards. It’s time for the liberals to have a
say with what goes on in the world.” He reached over and
patted her knee. “Don’t you agree, Cynthia?”
The way he said Cynthia irritated her like a
toothache. “Sorry. I’m a registered Republican.”
“You’re kidding?” He swerved into the passing lane
and barely missed rear-ending a Toyota. “I don’t see you
49
Pam Champagne
as a conservative. How can you back the party that’s put
us in the middle of a bee’s nest in the Middle East?”
“My husband gave his life for his country in Iraq.”
Long moments passed. It didn’t bother her in the
least that she’d more than likely made him
uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, but because of your loss, you of all people
should want the US to pull out of Iraq. It’s all about oil,
you know.”
The throb in her head kept time with the boom of the
bass on the radio. She flicked off the switch and then sat
in painful silence for the rest of the trip.
Mike rolled off the couch and paced the floor. The
more he thought about the way Cyn had dropped the
news of her date, the more pissed he got. Hadn’t she
realized how devastated Katy would be?
Forget Katy. If she’d told him she was moving out, he
wouldn’t have been more surprised. A paperback on a
corner table caught his eye. An espionage thriller.
Perhaps it’d take his mind off what Cyn and her date
were doing right now. He slumped on the couch and
opened to a random page. Five minutes later, he tossed
the book on the floor, lay down and gave his emotions full
rein.
Had he screwed up his chances with Cyn because
he’d taken things too slow? The last thing he’d wanted to
do was rush her into another relationship. Night after
night he’d waited for her to give him a sign. It’d taken all
his willpower not to drag her into his arms.
Plus, he wanted to make damn sure Peter’s spirit had
vanished. Having a ghost pop in and out without warning
was bad enough. No freakin’ way would he make love to
Cyn if there was a chance her dead husband might show
up. Mike checked the time. Idiot, he chided. Three
minutes later than the last time he’d looked.
Mike bolted off the couch at the peel of tires in the
driveway.
50
Bridge of Hope
He arrived at the window just in time to see Cyn
climb out of the car, then lean back in. She straightened
and slammed the door. The car left rubber on the asphalt
as it pulled out into the street. She ran toward her
apartment. What the hell? Evidently, the date hadn’t
gone well. He refused to feel guilty about the surge of
satisfaction welling in his chest.
Ten minutes later he knocked on her door. When she
opened it, the fire in her eyes had him rethinking his
visit.
“What do you want?”
Well, that didn’t bode well for his late night visit.
“Are you okay? I couldn’t help but hear your date take off
and—”
Her chin jutted forward. “And what? You came to
gloat?”
Mike reached out and touched her shoulder. “No.
Hopefully, you know me better than that.”
“I’m sorry. Come in.” She turned away. “Right now
I’m so damn mad I could spit nails.”
“What happened? That is, if you want to share,” he
amended quickly.
“John’s a damn Democrat. That’s what’s happened.”
Mike couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Last time I
heard, that wasn’t a crime.”
She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears. “You
don’t understand. He’s a jerk. Even went so far as to
imply that Peter got what he deserved for joining the
military.”
Mike’s insides tightened. “Ah, Cyn, come here.” He
led her to the couch and put his arm around her. She
nestled against him, her head on his shoulder. “There
have always been people who protest wars. Didn’t you
know he was against the war before you went out?”
Cyn shook her head. “No. We didn’t discuss it. When
he came to the library, we talked about books, not
politics.”
He caressed her arm, loving the warm softness of her
51
Pam Champagne
skin. “Put it behind you.”
She straightened and looked him square in the eye. “I
told him that if he couldn’t stand behind our troops, he
damn well should stand in front of them.”
Choking on his laughter, he managed to say, “I take
it that’s why he left in such a hurry?”
A simple shrug and Cyn cuddled against his side. “I
guess so.”
After a long
silence, Mike grew restless. Time to get
out of here before he did something he’d regret. “I’d better
go. Katy’s alone in the house.”
Cyn moved then. Knelt on the couch and faced him.
“Please stay just a while.”
His gaze roamed her face. Was he misreading the
signal? Were her slightly parted lips begging for his kiss?
“I shouldn’t—”
Her mouth stopped his words. God, her sweet mouth.
Hardly daring to breathe, he stayed still while she
explored with her lips and tongue. “Cyn, are you sure?”
“I want to get close to you.”
What did that mean? She wanted to kiss and be held?
She wanted to make love? Damn, he wished he
understood women. Unable to stop, he pulled her into his
arms and pushed her down on the couch. One look into
her dazed blue eyes gave him his answer. He took her
mouth with his. The sound of their harsh breathing filled
the room.
Her fingers slid inside his shirt and skimmed his
ribs. He brushed her breast with his hand. His erection
pressed on her mound, and when she moved her hips for
better contact, he almost went through the roof. With a
groan, he rolled onto his side and buried his face in her
neck. “Not like this, Cyn. Our first time has to be special.
Besides, it’s too soon. You need to be sure you’re ready.
It’s only been four months. That’s not long—”
Cyn pressed her fingers against his lips. “Dr.
Wentworth says every person who loses a loved one
grieves as long as they need to. I’m through grieving,
52
Bridge of Hope
Mike. Peter will always be a part of me, but he’s gone. He
told me to move on. I want to. With you.”
He ached to believe her, but nagging doubts lingered.
“What about your fear of dependence?”
“I feel stronger than I did a month ago. I think I can
handle…I mean we can handle any problems together.”
He pulled her tight against his chest and almost
squeezed the life out of her. She felt so good…so right in
his arms. “I’m leaving,” he whispered into her hair. “I
meant what I said. Tonight’s not the right time. Let’s both
think on it. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He peeled himself off Cyn’s warm, willing body.
