Running for Her Life

by Beverly Long

  “Oh, Jake,” she cried. “Don’t. It’s horrible.”

  He lifted his head and shook it. Then he bent forward again and his warm lips kissed her arm again.

  Her head felt light and it didn’t seem connected to her neck. She might have swayed because he stopped, stood up and pulled her securely into his body.

  Bone against bone. Curve against curve.

  Need against need.

  “Tara, we’re all scarred,” he whispered into her ear. “With some of us, the scars are visible. Others hide them better. It doesn’t matter. It’s who we are, what we are.”

  She closed her eyes and rested her chin on his shoulder. “It doesn’t make you sick?”

  “Of course not.”

  He was rubbing her back and it made it hard to think, let alone talk, but she couldn’t hold it back a minute longer. “I had pretty arms,” she said. “I know that’s vain and conceited and you probably think I’m awful. That I should be happy it wasn’t worse or that I didn’t lose my strength or the use of my hand.”

  “You still have pretty arms,” he said. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and inch by inch, slid them slowly down the length of her arms. “Firm muscle. Soft skin. Feminine. Gorgeous. Just perfect.”

  She started to cry.

  He pulled her even tighter against him and wrapped his strong arms around her. He rocked her back and forth. “I’m so sorry you were hurt,” he crooned, patting her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  She kept her face buried in his shirt until the tears subsided. He held her a minute more before pulling back, just far enough that he could put a finger under her chin and tilt her face up. He brushed the tears off her cheeks. “You have a beautiful face, too,” he said, his tone very serious.

  “Freckles aren’t so beautiful,” she said, embarrassed to be inspected so closely. She must look a sight. Her nose was probably bright pink.

  “Yours are.” He bent forward and kissed the bridge of her nose. Then he studied her cheek. “You’ve got a couple freckles here, too.”

  How nice of him to notice.

  He kissed them, his lips just brushing against her skin.

  His lips were warm and soft and delightful.

  “You’ve got a tiny one right there, in the corner of your mouth.”

  “I do?”

  He licked the spot with the tip of his tongue.

  Oh, my. She gripped his arms.

  He took his hands and gently cupped her face. And when he pulled her forward, and her lips met his, everything seemed just right. It was a kiss of young lovers. Tentative. Gentle. Sweet.

  He paused, resting his forehead against hers. Then he shifted and she could see his eyes, see his pain. “You…you really thought I would hurt you? Like he did?” he asked.

  She heard the despair in his voice and knew that she’d made a terrible mistake.

  “I’m sorry. I got scared.”

  He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe it. “I would never harm you,” he said, his voice low. “I would die myself before I let someone else harm you.”

  Oh, no. She couldn’t breathe again. In, two, three. Out, two, three. She would not, would absolutely not, pass out on him.

  “Jake, I—”

  “What happened to him? To Masterly?”

  Tara could feel him channeling his hurt to anger. “Nothing. I refused to give the hospital any details. They called the police and I wouldn’t talk to them, either. They knew what had happened. I could see it in their eyes. But when I wouldn’t tell them, they couldn’t do anything.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t you let them help you?”

  “I was a reporter, trained to observe. How was I going to admit that the man I planned to marry in three weeks was a maniac?” Tara pulled away and began to walk in circles around the room. “But I would have done that,” she continued, turning to look at Jake, “I would have taken the chance. But he told me that he’d kill me if I told anyone. I believed him. I’d seen the rage in him. I knew that I’d been lucky to get away with multiple compound fractures and assorted bruises.”

  “Damn him.”

  Tara gave him a small smile. “I knew that Michael would be arrested, maybe even convicted. Then the family money would have bought him probation, not jail time. You and I both know that Michael could have gotten to me if he wanted to.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “After I got out of the hospital, I went to a friend’s house, someone whom Michael didn’t know. The only people who knew the address were the police. But somehow Michael got the address and came to see me. I’m sure he bought someone off. He begged me to come home, made me all kinds of promises. I realized then that he was never going to leave me alone.”

  She stood in the kitchen and ran her hand along the side of the refrigerator door. After a long pause, she made eye contact again. “That’s when I started planning. I was hurt, in no shape to travel. I told him that I wanted to stay with my friend for a few weeks but then I’d come back. Every night he called me. Every night I had to keep telling him the same lies, had to keep telling him that I loved him, that I forgave him.”

  “He believed you?”

  “I think so. Probably because he couldn’t imagine that I could live without him. Once I got the clearance from my physician that I was okay to travel, I ran. I had inherited a little money from my parents and my friend who worked in the human resources office at the paper helped me get my hands on my 401(k) money. In the middle of the night, I left town. I’ve never been back.”

  “But what about your family? What did you tell them?”

  “My parents are both dead. I didn’t lie to you about that. They were killed in a car accident just months before I met Michael. I was an only child.”

  “And you came to Wyattville?”

  “Yes. I paid cash for the restaurant and I bought it under a…borrowed name.”

  “Borrowed?”

  “Tara Thompson is a real person. She’s about my age and she lives in a home for the mentally impaired. She doesn’t talk or hear. I was doing a story about her, and others like her, when I decided to disappear. I had all her information, even her Social Security number.”

  “What’s your real name?” he asked.

  “It’s…” She hesitated.

  “Tara,” Jake spoke softly, his mouth a grim line. “I promise you that I’ve never met Michael Masterly. But if I ever do, I’ll rip his arm off. Then, who knows?”

  Tara gasped. “I don’t need—”

  “What’s your real name?”

  “Joanna Travis.”

  “Joanna Travis.” He repeated the name, then a rather pithy oath.

  “You don’t like it?” she asked.

  “No.” He waved away her question. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  “Go ahead. How bad can it be?”

  “I don’t know how bad it is. The day you were sick and I opened the restaurant with Janet, I answered a phone call. A man asked to speak to Joanna Travis. I told him he had the wrong number. He apologized and hung up. I didn’t think anything more about it.”

  “It’s him,” Tara said. “Oh, God. When I saw the engagement picture, I thought it might be over.”

  “Engagement picture? What are you talking about?”

  “Michael got engaged about three months ago. To a woman that I’d met just once or twice when Michael and I were dating. I thought it was possible that he’d moved on. But then, just recently, I’d found out the engagement was cancelled.”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “Every couple of weeks, I go to Minneapolis. I can get internet access there. I can catch up on what my friends are writing for the paper and I can keep tabs on Michael. He makes the society news.”

  “The library?” Jake smacked himself on the head with the palm of his hand. “You go to the library to use the internet?”

  “Yes.” She looked confused. “There are all kinds of ways that people can trac
k computer activity. I didn’t want there to be any possible way that inquiries about Michael could be traced back to Wyattville.”

  “You were being extra careful.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t want to have to keep running.”

  “Why didn’t you work at another newspaper? Why Nel’s?”

  “I knew that if Michael looked for me, he’d look at another paper. He knew I loved my work. And even if he wasn’t successful right away, he’d trace me through tax records. The paper would have reported my wages. I’d have had to use my real name and my Social Security number. It was only a matter of time.”

  “But he wouldn’t think about you being in the restaurant business?”

  “No. When I was with Michael, I could barely boil water.”

  “What about the man who gave you a ride to the farmhouse?”

  She licked her lips. “He called me Tara. I never gave him my name. He knew that I was going to be in that car, alongside that road. I believe Michael or someone Michael sent waited inside that house.”

  She might be right. Someone had been inside the house. “You think Waller knew?”

  “It only makes sense. He’s been eating at my counter for months but now he asks me for a date? Why now?”

  He might just kill the man after all. “The night at my parents’ house, you messed with my dad’s camera. Why?”

  She blushed. “I didn’t know anybody saw that. Pictures are very dangerous. One could get posted online and travel the world in seconds. Or printed and stuck on a refrigerator. You’d told me your brother studied journalism in Chicago. I have friends in Chicago. What if he had a copy and by chance, he knows people that I know?”

  “You’re very smart,” he said. “You were controlling everything you could.”

  “Yes, but I always knew that it might not be enough. That somehow he would find me. I always knew I might need to run again and I was ready.”

  He knew she’d been ready. “Tara, there are a couple of things you need to know.”

  She looked at him with trust in her eyes and it made his chest tight. He had betrayed her and he would not blame her if she never forgave him.

  “I followed you to the Minneapolis library. I saw you on the computer. I wasn’t close enough to see what you were looking at.”

  She considered this. “So when you came to the restaurant and I told you that I’d been there all morning cleaning vegetables for soup, you knew I was lying to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “You don’t have to apologize to me. I owe you one. I did something that I’m not very proud of. Shortly after that trip to Minneapolis, I went to your house, when you weren’t home, and I searched it.”

  She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but he plowed on, determined that she needed to know it all. “Henry gave me the key because he wanted me to change some lightbulbs in your stairway. I found your bag above the ceiling tiles. Because I was looking. I knew it was a getaway bag. I just didn’t know why. And quite honestly, I thought it might be because you were a bad person. My gut told me different but I couldn’t deny the evidence.” He stopped and sucked in a much-needed breath.

  She studied him for a long minute and then shrugged her delicate shoulders. “You knew I was lying to you. You couldn’t have trusted me. Quite honestly, I’d have done the same thing.” She smiled and it gave him hope. “After all,” she continued, “I’m not sure I’m in a position to judge. I assumed someone’s identity, for goodness’ sake.”

  “You had no choice,” he said.

  “There were choices. I made the best one I could at the time. I think you probably did the same.”

  He was humbled by her ability to see it from his perspective. “Tara, you’re a good person, a really good person.”

  “I don’t know about that. What I was trying to be was a really prepared person. I thought if Michael came to my house, I would find some way to get into the bathroom. I would have used the cell phone to call the sheriff and then I would have climbed out the bathroom window.” She smiled more broadly. “I guess I can spend that money. I’m not running. I’m not letting him win.”

  “He’s a bastard.”

  “He is. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I know how you feel about lying. I don’t expect that you’ll understand. But Jake, if you wouldn’t mind, could you just hold me? Just for a little while.”

  He pulled her close and she rested her head on his shoulder. She felt warm and soft, and he desperately wanted to touch her.

  “Jake,” Tara whispered. “Could you do something for me?”

  He’d slay dragons for her. “Absolutely.”

  “I want you to make love to me.”

  “What?” Jake heard his voice crack.

  “I want you to make love to me. Tonight. All night.”

  He wanted her desperately. “Tara, I’ll be gone in two weeks.”

  “I know, Jake. It doesn’t matter. I still want you.” She pressed her hot lips to his neck.

  “But…”

  She pulled his T-shirt up and put her hands on his stomach, then moved them higher, her thumbs rubbing across his flat nipples.

  “Tara.”

  One hand leisurely traveled down his sternum and across his ribs. Then lower. She unsnapped his jeans. He grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly. He wanted her with a desperation that bordered on insanity and he wasn’t all that sure of his own self-control. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  He pulled her toward the stairs. And on each step, he kissed her. Hot, long, wet kisses. And when they finally made it to her bedroom, they fell on the bed in a heap of arms and legs. He straddled her, one leg on either side of her hips. He lifted her arms, gently pulling them over her head and held them there, her wrists clasped in his one hand. He took his other hand and traced the bones of her face.

  “Stunning,” he said. “Just stunning.” He leaned over her, stopping when his lips hovered just inches away from her mouth. Then he kissed her again. This time gently, lightly. His tongue traced the outline of her lips. She opened her mouth, urging him inside.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

  She blushed. “Oh, Jake, you don’t have to say that,” she said. “I’m in a T-shirt, for gosh sakes. I don’t even have any makeup on. I look like I’m twelve and ready for a slumber party.”

  “Tara, listen to me.” He lifted his head, careful to keep his full weight off of her. “You are, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the sexiest and most beautiful woman I have ever known. It doesn’t matter what you wear, it’s what you are.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. She pulled her hands from his grasp and this time he let her go. She reached up under his shirt, wrapping her arms around his back muscles, pulling him to her. “I want to do this. I don’t want to think about it or talk about it anymore. I just want to do it. I want you to—”

  Her plea was interrupted as his mouth found hers. She wiggled and he groaned. She stretched and he stroked. Consistent with the law of nature, each action caused a reaction.

  Jake pulled her T-shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra. He stared at her breasts. Pale skin. Rose-colored nipples. Beautiful. He buried his face in the valley between her full breasts. He licked her, small, wet nibbles that turned into long, succulent feasts. She arched in his arms. He rolled her nipples between his forefinger and thumb before bending and skimming his teeth against her. He tasted her, drawing her deep into his mouth, and when he heard her moan, it fed his greed.

  She reached for the zipper on his jeans. He shifted, stopping her. “Hang on, sweetheart. We don’t want this over with before it’s barely begun.”

  He unzipped her shorts and slipped his fingers inside the waistband. Her skin was warm and her stomach muscles jerked when he touched her.

  It made him feel like he could leap tall buildings or swing from trees.

  Unable to wait a minute more, he pulled her shorts down.
She lay before him, naked with the exception of her pale green panties. She smiled at him, lifted her perfect rear end and slipped them down her legs.

  She was beautifully shaped. Her skin was fair with a scattering of freckles that matched the ones on her face.

  “I don’t want to be the only one naked,” she said.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He clawed at his own clothing, shedding his shirt and pants. He pulled down his underwear. She watched, quietly.

  “I’m naked,” he said, finally.

  “I see that,” she said, very seriously.

  Then she put out her hand, stopping him. “It’s been a long time,” she said. “And I was never very good at this.”

  His heart started beating again. He guided her hand toward him. “I’ve dreamed of touching you. Of you, touching me.”

  She was tentative at first. Playful. And he wondered if he could stand it. He closed his eyes while her fingers teased him. It was too much and not enough. It was torment and pleasure. “Oh, Tara,” he said, pulling away. “I can’t wait much longer, but I need to know that you’re ready for me.”

  He licked her hot skin. Ever so gently he kissed her. He stroked, he teased, he thought he might die if he didn’t have her soon.

  She twisted, turned, and he held her. She squirmed, he pressed and she strained against his fingers. Her eyes flew open. “Oh, my gosh. Jake. Do something!”

  “Oh, Tara,” he whispered in her ear. “You are so beautiful.” He rolled over on his back, pulling her on top of him. “I’m too heavy for you.”

  She straddled him, like a goddess, and he guided himself into her. She felt hot and tight and when he lifted his hips and pushed into her, she squeezed him, making him want.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. She squirmed and drew him in deeper. “Tara, is everything okay?” He grabbed her hips to still her.

  “Yes. This is wonderful,” she purred. She pushed his hands away so that she could move freely. Up and down, she moved her hips. Rising and falling, rocking back and forth.

  He pressed the pad of his thumb against her. She threw her head back and flew apart around him, her delicate muscles clenching him tight. Again and again.