She glanced around the little studio, mentally adding “Clean and organize Penelope’s apartment” to her to-do list. Penelope’s clothes were draped everywhere, newspapers and takeout menus were piled up on the desktop, there wasn’t an uncluttered surface anywhere. Disorder tugged at her and made her feel itchy.
All right, the sooner she confronted Penelope, the sooner she could come back here and start cleaning.
She’d already stripped out of her clothes, folded them neatly, and stacked them on the fold-out couch, when she heard it.
A noise, coming from the kitchen window.
Had someone climbed up the fire escape? Good God, it sounded like they were opening the window and climbing in. She was standing there barefoot, in her lacy black bra and underwear. She had set her purse with her cell phone down on the kitchen counter, and she didn’t dare run in there and try to grab it to call for help. Her keychain with the mace was in her purse.
She stood frozen in indecision, throat closing with terror. She was suddenly excruciatingly aware of how isolated she was in this little apartment; she had no neighbors in the building, and nobody would hear her if she screamed for help.
Suddenly she heard someone fall into the kitchen with a crash, and an outraged male voice roared “Jezebel! Scarlet woman! Daughter of Satan!”, and she only had one choice. Heart pounding, choking back a sob of terror, she turned and ran for the front door, flinging it open and barreling down the stairs – only to run straight into the big, strong arms of Rafe McDaniel.
Chapter Seven
Rafe fell back in shock. “What the hell? Poppy, are you all right?” At the top of the stairwell, she heard the door of her apartment bang open again. She and Rafe both spun around to look. Looming in the doorway was a tall, thin man in a hooded jacket, with the hood pulled so low she couldn’t see his face; when he caught a glimpse of Rafe, he turned and ran back into the apartment.
“Stay here!” Rafe yelled at her, and then took off up the stairs and through her apartment, after the intruder.
“No worries,” Poppy muttered, crossing her arms over the front of her body in a useless attempt to cover herself, suddenly thankful for the fact that she had no neighbors.
Rafe came through the front door several minutes later, breathing hard, and talking into his cell phone. “Thanks, Richard, just have the guys keep an eye out for him. He was wearing gloves, so I don’t think you’re going to get any prints.”
“Who are you talking to?” Poppy asked, baffled.
“The night sergeant at the Port Rollins Police Department. I used to be a cop there. The police will be here in a few minutes. What happened? Did he hurt you?” His brown eyes gleamed fiercely and he spoke in a low growl. Poppy imagined that being on Rafe’s bad side would be a very dangerous place to be.
She shivered, hugging herself.
“I heard him opening the kitchen window while I was changing to get in the shower. I ran out of the apartment in my underwear.” She glanced down at herself ruefully. “I should have moved faster. I should have grabbed a blanket. I should have –“
“Don’t, Poppy. Don’t blame yourself. You’re the victim here. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
He gathered her in his muscular arms, and she melted against him. He was warm, and strong, and tall, and she felt enveloped in his protective embrace. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.
His arms tightened around her, and she felt his fingers caressing her hair, tangling in her golden curls. The world vanished, and there was only the two of them, and his warmth enfolding her, and the thudding of her heart reverberated against the broad, muscular wall of his chest.
Then he slowly pulled away, his big hands resting on her shoulders. “I hear the cops pulling up out front. Let’s get you back inside and get some clothes on.”
“Oh, my God!” Poppy cried out, panicked. “I’m standing on the stairway nearly butt naked!”
“Hey, I’m not complaining about the view.” He slid a finger under her chin and tipped her head up to look him in the eyes, and she nearly melted into a puddle of lust at his feet. She stifled a moan and pressed her legs together tightly. “But we can save that for later.”
And he grabbed her by the hand and led her back up the stairs to her apartment, staying in front of her the whole way, protectively.
Save that for later? What did he mean by that? What did he want from her?
She didn’t have time to think about it right now. Inside the apartment, she rummaged through the suitcase she hadn’t unpacked yet, and frantically threw on a flowered pink blouse and pink harem pants right before two uniformed officers came in the door.
They greeted Rafe by name, and then took Poppy’s report, which was unfortunately all too brief. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the man; she couldn’t even tell them what race he was.
“You need better security on that window,” one of them told her. “I could jimmy that open with a butter knife. I’d put an alarm system in here too. Maybe have a friend come sleep with you until you can make this place a little safer.”
“Hey, Ben,” Rafe said. “Could you just confirm to my friend Poppy here that I used to work with Port Rollins finest?”
“Of course,” Ben said, grinning at Poppy. “He was a moderately talented sergeant in the detective divi-ouch! Very talented!” He rubbed his arm ruefully where Rafe had just punched him, gave Rafe a friendly wave, and followed his partner out of her apartment, shutting the door behind him.
“What are you even doing here?” Poppy asked, puzzled, as Rafe turned the deadbolt behind them.
“I figured I’d come here after work so I could talk to you without your guard dog buddy running interference. I tried to come to the shop today to tell you – that woman who came in the store yelling at me is my brother’s future wife. Maybe. They’ve broken off the engagement half a dozen times. She’s a shrew, it’ll never last, I told him over and over again, but he’s not thinking with his brain when it comes to her. And he likes his women feisty.” Rafe shook his head, scowling.
“Ha. I should hook him up with Viola then. Except he’s already taken, and there’s a different between being feisty and being a bitch, and Viola only likes rock and roll guys, so never mind. Why did you want me to know that you used to be a cop?”
“Because I’m going to be sleeping in your apartment until we get this place more safe and secure, and I didn’t want you to think I’m just some random pervert trying to take advantage of you. I mean, I am trying to take advantage of you, but I’m actually a very respectable pervert.”
Her heart thumped in her chest, but she ignored his quirky smile and his attempts at flirtation.
“You can’t sleep here. The couch is the only bed,” she pointed out.
“So I’ll make a mattress out of the couch cushions and sleep on the floor. I’ve roughed it before; my dad used to take me and my brothers camping all the time.”
“No way. I can’t ask that of you. Go back to your apartment. I’ll – I’ll call you if anyone tries to break in again.” She glanced towards the kitchen with trepidation. She really did feel much safer with Rafe here – physically, anyway. Emotionally, she wasn’t so sure.
“That would involve us exchanging phone numbers, which is going to happen anyway, but no. I’m sleeping here. End of story.”
She sighed and held her hand up in a “stop it” gesture. “Don’t, Rafe. You don’t have to do that. Flirt with me, I mean. Pretend to like me.”
He looked genuinely baffled. “Who’s pretending?”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked hard, humiliated. A lifetime of memories of handsome men looking through her as if she were invisible, and then lighting up when they spotted her beautiful, reed thin half-sister, burned inside her and threatened to choke the words from her throat.
“Really, Rafe. There’s got to be a million skinny, beautiful women out there who’d love to jump you. Guys like you don’t go for girls like me. And I’d like you
to leave now; I need to get some sleep.” As if she could sleep.
She turned to walk away from him, headed towards the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but it was the only other room in the apartment aside from the bathroom.
Suddenly, faster than she would have thought possible, he was on her, blocking her, backing her into the wall, and his hands were on either side of her face, tilting her head up again and forcing her to look at him. His eyes burned with intensity, and a deep, carnal hunger.
“Stop it, Poppy. Stop doing this to yourself. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You’ve got a beautiful face. You’ve got a beautiful figure. No, you’re not freakishly thin; you’ve got boobs and an ass and a stomach that I want to kiss and nice round thighs that I want to run my tongue along. You understand me? I want you. I know there’s plenty of women out there that I could have, and I’m here with you.”
Poppy’s lips parted in shock, and before she could say a word, he’d plunged his mouth onto hers, hot and hungry. He sucked at her, claiming her mouth with his probing tongue, and she found her trembling hands on his shoulders, fingers sinking in and clutching him tightly.
Warmth spread slowly throughout her whole body until she was hot and tingly all over, and her sex was throbbing with desire and need. She could feel moisture seeping between her lips, soaking her panties. She ached for him to fill her, to slide between her legs, to thrust inside her…
His hands on her face were gentle and strong, and his tongue swept through her mouth, probing, conquering her. She responded by tilting her head back, sucking on him hungrily, her tongue meeting his.
She imagined his mouth moving lower, lower…tracing kisses down her body, suckling her breasts, trailing his lips over her stomach…
He pressed the length of his body against hers and she felt the thickness of his hard cock, straining against the material of his jeans. She felt as if she were being swept away, as if she’d drown…
The clock on the wall chimed, and she pulled away abruptly.
Chapter Eight
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, struggling to clear her head. “I just realized how late it is! Visiting hours at the hospital are already over. I won’t make it there in time to see my sister tonight.”
“Your sister?”
“Penelope’s my sister. Half-sister. Wait just a minute, let me try to call her.” She saw an odd look cross his face when she said that, but it wasn’t the usual look of interest men got when she mentioned Penelope. It was more like disappointment.
Puzzled, she went in to the kitchen to retrieve her cell phone, called her sister, and again the phone went straight to voicemail. Frustration and worry swirled inside her, tying her stomach in knots.
Then she dialed the nurse’s station, and was reassured that her sister was all right. But when she asked the nurse to tell her sister to call her, the nurse returned a minute later, and said “She says that she’s in too much pain to talk, right now.”
Poppy firmly tamped down on the instinctive swell of sympathy that surged inside her; this was Penelope, after all. “Was she in pain all day, or did it just suddenly start when I asked to talk to her?”
“Oh, no, ma’am, she had a couple of visitors, and she was just fine when they were here. It just started when I asked her if she wanted to talk to you. Sorry,” the nurse said, in a tone which said she knew all about complicated family dynamics.
“No problem. Please give her a message for me. I will be there tomorrow night at 7 p.m., and if she wants me to keep running the bakery for her, she better be available to talk to me. Or I’m leaving town.”
She clicked the disconnect button and turned back to see Rafe standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
“So, uh…that was…nice, earlier,” she attempted a smile. Nice? Hah! She’d almost had an orgasm right there against the living room wall.
He grinned at her. “Nice? I was thinking more…incredible. Hot. Delicious.”
But he leaned in the doorway and didn’t make a move towards her. She was baffled. What was he waiting for?
“And?” she said faintly, after an awkward pause.
“And, I want to take you out to dinner after I come back from my business trip. I’m supposed to leave towards the end of the week. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. I want to take you out and get to know you.”
“Oh.” Poppy tried not to feel deflated and hurt. Was this a brush off? Why the abrupt turnaround?
“Okay…dinner would be nice,” she said with what she hoped looked like a casual shrug.
“I promise you, what I have in mind for you is far from nice.” He flashed her a devilish grin and she felt herself warming up again. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d lead a woman on for no reason. He’d come back to talk to her twice already, even with Viola trying to chase him off. And now that she thought about it, she did believe he’d been looking for her at O’Malley’s.
So he was pursuing her. Maybe he really was a decent guy who wanted to take his time and not rush things.
Rafe walked past her and began examining the kitchen window. “This needs a new lock and you need an alarm system. So, what was that all about with your sister, anyway?”
Poppy sighed, heavily. “She didn’t tell me what kind of bakery this was when she asked me to run it for the summer. It’s kind of a big deal. I go to a very conservative law school, on full scholarship. I live on campus. I don’t think they’d be thrilled that I’m working here. And I’m sure she knows that. Then again, I guess she didn’t know anyone else that she trusted enough to run the bakery for her for the summer.”
“Law school, eh?”
“Hey, when I get my degree, I’ll save a fortune in legal fees from bailing my sister out of trouble.” The sad thing is, she was only half joking.
“So you bail her out a lot?” He leaned on the counter, facing her, a lock of brown hair falling on his forehead.
Little lightning bolts of heat shot through her body. Stop being so respectful, you idiot, she thought. Take me now, on the kitchen table.
She swallowed hard, and forced herself to concentrate.
“I know how that sounds, but she had it really, really rough growing up. Penelope’s my half-sister; I was four when she was born. My mother was a widow when she married Penelope’s father, and then she had Penelope and gained all this weight and never lost it, and he lost interest in her and ran off with another woman. And she took it out on Penelope with a vengeance. She’d buy me pretty new clothes for school and buy Penelope ugly old stuff from Goodwill. On Christmas she’d give me a whole pile of new toys and give Penelope a few beatup second-hand thrift store pieces of junk. She’d literally forget Penelope’s birthdays. It was horrible. And when I stuck up for Penelope she’d give me this evil look, walk out of the room, and not talk to me for days. Neither Penelope or I stayed in contact with her when we grew up and moved out.”
Her hands were shaking, and she clenched them into fists at her sides, her stomach turning sour at the memories she was dredging up.
“She sounds pathological.” Rafe shook his head in sympathy, wincing at the thought of growing up in a household like that. Not for the first time, he thanked his lucky stars that he’d grown up with two wonderful, loving parents – for as long as he’d had them.
He looked at Poppy with compassion.
“But that’s not your fault, is it? Penelope’s a grown woman. How long do you have to keep paying for the sins of your mother?”
“I know, I know. But inheriting this bakery was a godsend. Penelope was drifting around from job to job, always getting in trouble, and suddenly she had something to focus on and it seemed as if she was finally growing up and acting like an adult. I really want to save it for her.”
He looked at her, his expression serious.
“Did it occur to you that this guy breaking in, and Penelope’s so-called accident, might have been connected somehow?”
She st
ared at him, shocked. “How could they be connected? I mean…he yelled out the words jezebel, scarlet woman, that kind of stuff, when he climbed in the window…he’s just crazy.”
“When you were giving the police your report just now, I didn’t hear you tell them that. You need to call them tomorrow and let them know, so they can add it to their report. You do know about the vandalism that happened before your sister’s accident?”
Poppy shook her head, feeling a chill wash over her.
“Somebody spray painted the words Die, Jezebel, and You’ll Burn In Hell, Scarlet Harlot, on the wall of the bakery. Two separate occasions. And somebody slashed the tires of the clerks who worked there.”
“How do you know all that?” A wave of shock and dismay rolled over Poppy. She felt the ground shifting under her feet. “My…my sister told me that the store clerks just up and quit.”
Smashwords version Sweet Surrender Page 4
