Finding Sarah

by Terry Odell

  “Do you?”

  He nodded. Sarah was quiet for a moment. “I get it. You caught Gertie—Harriett—but you still haven’t figured out why she did it. The mysterious Mr. Brady is still out there.”

  “Good detective work, Ms. Tucker.”

  She came back to the living room and sank to the couch. Now she looked like he felt.

  “And,” she continued, “whoever he is, catching this woman doesn’t mean he’ll go away.”

  The kettle whistled. Sarah made no move to get up. Randy went into the kitchen and pulled it from the stove. Sarah had laid out mugs and two cocoa packets. He mixed the drinks and brought them back to the living room. “If you need a friend,” he intoned. “I always liked that song. Sad, but comforting, too.” He set the mugs on the coffee table and shut off the lamp.

  He sat down next to Sarah and when she didn’t draw away, he pulled her against him. She leaned into his chest. He put his arm around her shoulder, and they sat in the dark while their cocoa grew cold. Which was about the only thing growing cold. Sarah’s even breathing told him she must have drifted off. She snuggled closer, exhaling a contented sigh. He inhaled, and the peach scent of her hair hit him right in the testosterone. His erection strained painfully against his zipper, but he’d die before he’d move and disrupt the moment.

  She’s a victim. You’re a cop.

  He didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry when his phone rang.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarah rushed into the kitchen, dragging her collapsible shopping cart behind her. Never mind the little-old-lady image, it got her groceries from the bus stop to her apartment. She yanked the bags out of the cart.

  What had she been thinking when she invited Randy to dinner? Last night had been a disaster in the get-to-know-you-when-you’re-not-a-cop department. Good grief, she’d actually dozed off sitting next to him. Okay, leaning against him. Snuggled against his chest. Relaxed. Okay, not exactly relaxed when she’d sensed his arm around her and heard the pounding of his heart. If his phone hadn’t rung, waking her, she didn’t know what might have happened.

  But he’d been the perfect gentleman, kissed her on the forehead, and left. But not before something deep in her brain escaped her mouth, and she’d invited him to dinner.

  What was she thinking? She hadn’t cooked for anyone in ages.

  Then, everything had taken twice as long as it should have. A dawdling customer, so she’d missed a bus. Then the huge line at the checkout at Thriftway.

  Could be worse. At least it wasn’t raining.

  Sarah unloaded the bags, arranging the ingredients on the counter. She’d worried about the menu since she’d opened her mouth and invited Randy to dinner. And since she’d been without Jennifer today, she didn’t have a lot of time to cook, but she’d had a lot of time to worry about it. She’d pored over her recipes trying to find something affordable, quick and elegant without being pretentious.

  What did Randy like to eat? Why couldn’t she have asked him that instead of how many girlfriends he’d had? She finally decided on rigatoni. What the heck, she made a darn good spaghetti sauce, and rigatoni didn’t have that embarrassing dangle factor. Garlic bread? Why not? They were both going to eat it. Salad. Vanilla ice cream for dessert. With chocolate sauce. Thick, gooey chocolate sauce.

  She changed into jeans and a T-shirt and began her prep. There was no way she would be finished before Randy got here. Too bad. He could watch, or he could help. She was not opening a jar of spaghetti sauce. This was a family recipe, and she wouldn’t rush it.

  While the onions sautéed, she cleaned the greens for the salad and put them in her salad spinner, getting rewarded with a nice cold shower when she took the top off before it stopped.

  Calm down. Relax. You’ve done this dozens of times.

  She’d get the sauce simmering, change her clothes, and everything would go off without a hitch.

  She crushed a clove of garlic into the onions and let them sauté for a minute before tipping them into a large saucepan. She chopped the tomatoes, added some tomato sauce, a hint of Worcestershire, some fresh basil and oregano, a generous glug of red wine, and gave it a good stir. A quick taste, a little more salt, some red pepper flakes, and she was satisfied.

  She adjusted the burner and went to set the table. Loud plopping noises sent her racing to the stove to pull the Vesuvius-like liquid from the burner and lower the flame, but not before she was covered with splotches of hot, red sauce.

  A knock on the door, followed by Randy’s voice. Already? She wiped her face and managed to blind herself with the onion residue left on her fingers. Eyes streaming, she worked her way to the front door, tripping over the folding metal shopping cart she’d left in the middle of the living room.

  “Darn!” She extricated herself from the wire cart and hobbled to the door. She opened it and bent to rub her throbbing shin.

  “Sarah! What happened?” He kicked the door shut behind him, put his arm at her waist and half carried her to the couch. “Sit down. Let me look at you.”

  “It’s nothing. Bumped into the cart,” she said when he sat beside her, his hands on her shoulders, staring at her.

  A blush spread over his face. “I’m sorry. I heard a crash and you shouted, and you were doubled over, and I saw you’d been crying. For a second I thought you were covered in blood, too.”

  “Onions,” Sarah said. “And spaghetti sauce.” She looked down at her shirt. She did look like she’d been wounded in battle. She tried not to laugh. “It’s nice to know you care.”

  Randy retrieved the bag with the wine bottle he’d dropped in his haste to rescue her. He ducked his head. “Sorry.”

  He looked so sheepish, Sarah couldn’t contain herself any longer and the laughter exploded. Randy’s laughter joined hers until they both gasped for breath.

  Sarah sat up, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “If you could have seen the look on your face,” she said. “Every woman needs a white knight to save her from erupting tomato sauce. I’m glad you’re mine.”

  “Any time, my lady.” He reached to her face and wiped her cheek with a thumb. “It’s good to see you laugh.”

  “You, too.” She took his hand and kissed his thumb. His face grew serious and he leaned forward and reached behind her neck with his other hand. Sarah continued nibbling his thumb, flicking her tongue over it, watching Randy’s eyes half close, feeling his breathing escalate. He pulled his hand from Sarah’s mouth and put his lips over hers. She kissed him, gently at first, but with more passion as he sought her tongue and pushed her back down on the couch. Heat rose within her. She reached for his hand again and placed it on her breast. She felt his fingers on her nipples as they strained against the lace of her bra. She thrust tighter against his hand and the heat flowed from her breast to her groin.

  He rose from the floor and Sarah shifted herself as far back onto the couch as she could, turning her body to face his. His kisses never stopped as he lay next to her. She rubbed her body against his, feeling her breasts against his torso, her hips against his erection. His kisses moved from her lips to neck, to ears and back to her lips.

  God, how she wanted him. She gasped for breath. They shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not yet.

  “Wait. Stop,” she panted. She heard Randy’s groan, but he released her and lifted himself on one elbow.

  “What’s the matter? Am I hurting you?”

  “God, no. It’s … it’s … I don’t know.” She reached up and traced the line of his jaw. “There are things to consider.”

  Randy took her hands and nibbled her fingertips. “I understand. I have protection.”

  A typical male reaction. As if the only consideration was safe sex.

  “Let me up for a minute, please.” She tried to read Randy’s face. She knew he was frustrated, but he didn’t look angry. He swung himself around and helped her to a sitting position.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you wanted this as much as I did.
”

  “I’m sure I do. More, maybe.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then continued. “I never slept with anyone but David,” she whispered. “And we waited until we were married. This. With you. It’s scaring me. I want you so badly, but then I think about how fast it is and I panic. I don’t know your favorite food, or your favorite color, or what movies you like.”

  “I won’t lie and tell you this is easy,” he said. “I want you so much it hurts. But if you want to wait, I’ll wait. If we’re right for each other, we’ll be right for each other for a while longer. And, to answer your questions. Lamb chops. Blue, stone blue. And I’ve seen Blazing Saddles twelve times.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered, turning to face him.

  “But we’re not going to take up where we left off, are we?”

  “Not until after dinner. All those tomatoes shouldn’t have sacrificed their lives in vain. And maybe we should try a proper bed instead of this couch which is easily three sizes too small for you.”

  Randy stroked her cheek, but not before she’d seen him glance around the room, his gaze stumbling on the photos of her with David. He rested his chin on her head. “I’ve thought about that. I’m not sure I want to have our first time in a bed you shared with David. I think his ghost might get in the way.”

  She’d made her peace with David, but Randy’s remark touched her. She gazed into those brown eyes flecked with hazel. “Let’s have dinner here. I’ve got ice cream for dessert. Do you think it would survive a trip to your place without melting?”

  He smiled. “Most definitely.”

  “You can open the wine while I get into some dry clothes. Corkscrew’s in the second drawer, left side.” She tousled his hair and kissed his cheek and scampered to the bedroom.

  Eating took precedence over dinner conversation. The anticipation was almost tangible. Randy helped clear the table and wash the dishes. Their fingers touched, their bodies rubbed against each other as they maneuvered in the small kitchen.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Why don’t you get the Styrofoam cooler from the cabinet on the back porch. And the fudge sauce is on the counter.” Smiling, she went to her room, plucked some clean underwear from the drawer and jammed it into her purse along with a toothbrush.

  Suddenly, she sobered. She reached behind her neck and eased the chain over her head. Holding the ring in front of her, she gave it one loving kiss and put it in her jewelry box. “No more ghosts,” she whispered. “I love you, David, but it’s time to move on.”

  * * * * *

  On the ride to Randy’s house, Sarah tuned the radio to an oldies rock station. Trying to keep a conversation alive when she knew they both had only one thing on their minds was impossible. She began swaying to the beat and soon they were both belting the chorus to Sweet Caroline.

  “My mom loves Neil Diamond,” Sarah said.

  A few more songs and they were at Randy’s house. He opened the door for her and turned on a lamp by the couch. “You want dessert now?”

  “Right after the ice cream.”

  Randy chuckled. “I’ll serve. How about we eat on the couch?”

  Sarah settled on the couch and toed off her sneakers and socks while she adjusted the three-way bulb in the lamp to the lowest setting. Candles would be better, but she hadn’t thought to bring any.

  Randy appeared with two sundaes. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That was not a ‘nothing’ look, that was a ‘something’s missing’ look.”

  “I thought candles would be nice. But they’re not important. The moonlight is enough.”

  Randy set the ice cream on the end table and disappeared down the hall, returning in a moment with a green foil gift box. He arranged half a dozen pillar candles on the coffee table and lit them. The scent of vanilla filled the air. Sarah turned off the lamp and picked up her bowl. An ice cream purist, she turned the spoon over as she put it into her mouth so that the initial sensation on her tongue was the creamy richness of the ice cream. She grinned as Randy followed her example, eyebrows raised.

  “This way, you don’t get the metallic taste of the spoon,” she explained. The scent of the candles intensified the vanilla flavor of the ice cream.

  Randy nodded in agreement, matching her bite for bite.

  Sarah scraped the remains of the sundae from her bowl. She licked the spoon, enjoying the chocolate’s creamy sweetness. She glanced at Randy, sitting beside her in the flickering light. A flush rose to his face as he set his bowl on the coffee table. Lowering her spoon, she glued her eyes to his and let her tongue dance circles around her half open mouth while she savored both the chocolate sauce and the thought of his mouth against hers. The look in his eyes made her forget the chocolate. Her breath quickened.

  Randy dipped his fingertip into the chocolate residue in her bowl and brought it to her lips. Her tongue swirled around his finger. He pulled his hand away and covered her lips with his own. She pressed deeper into the kiss, her tongue feeling the chill in his mouth turn hot. Somewhere in the distance, she felt him remove the bowl and spoon from her fingers, heard the soft thud as he placed them on the coffee table, but the kiss took on a life of its own, transcending awareness of anything else.

  He pulled her on top of him so that she straddled his lap. She leaned her head into his chest, listened to the pounding of his heart, the rapid rhythm of his breathing. His hands sent shivers down her back as he reached under her sweater and unfastened her bra. Murmurs of pleasure intertwined as one. She wanted his hands to envelop every inch of her. Shifting herself closer into his body, she began rocking gently, her mind oblivious to all but the fluttering sensations building deep within her.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, caressed the velvety softness behind his ears, rubbed her hands up and down his back, began working his shirt free of his pants. His hands moved to her chest, kneading her breasts, rolling her nipples under his thumb. Sparks shot through her at his touch. She reached to unbuckle his belt, to touch him, to share the pleasure.

  “Sarah,” he gasped. “Wait.” He put his hands over hers.

  She let go of his belt, unable to speak. He couldn’t have changed his mind. Not now. Randy put his hands at her waist and shifted her down toward his knees.

  “You’re making me … I’m so … I’m not sure I can … Oh, God, Sarah, I don’t want to spoil it for you. It shouldn’t be this quick.”

  She slid off his lap and ran her fingers across his lips. His breathing was rapid and shallow. She extinguished the candles and extended her hand. “We said we were going to do this in a proper bed. Will you take me there?”

  Randy got up from the couch. Sarah found herself lifted off her feet. Putting her arm around his neck, she kissed him again. She nestled her head into his chest and he nuzzled her hair. His strength sent a feeling of peace through her as he carried her to the bedroom. There was a dip as his elbow hit the light switch, and a lamp on a night table across the room came on.

  He lowered her to the bed and knelt at her feet. She waited as he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. His bare chest sent another quiver through her body and she longed to run her fingers through the mat of silken hair. When she reached forward, he grasped her hands. “I haven’t … been with a woman … in a long time,” he whispered. “And I’ve wanted you so much. Give me a minute.”

  “Do we need the light?”

  “I want to see you. All of you.”

  The tenderness reflected in his eyes obliterated any self-consciousness. She removed her sweater and let it fall to the floor along with her bra. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

  Randy stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment, his eyes moving up and down her body.

  “I want to look at you, but I prefer the moonlight,” she said. She pulled back the covers and went to the bedside table and switched off the lamp. Eyes locked on his, her hands moved to the button of her jeans.

>   “Wait,” he said. “Come here. Let me.”

  Sarah stepped around the bed and stood poised before him. Her knees quaked. “I’m yours.” She stared into his eyes, those brown-flecked-with-hazel eyes that melted her insides. His trembling fingers released the button and zipper of her jeans, slid them down past her hips.

  His delicate touch sent another thrill though her. He lowered himself to his knees once again. She tried to control her ragged breathing as he planted kiss after kiss on her body. Any more and she would have to sit down. She tried to reach for him, but he refused her touch.

  “Not yet,” he said. His kisses continued down her legs as he slipped her jeans to her ankles. Every nerve ending fired pleasure to her brain. He lowered her panties an inch at a time, still kissing in their wake and his strong fingers played along the back of her legs. She clung to his shoulders to keep from collapsing with delight.

  His kisses moved back up her body. She tried to catch her breath while he shifted from his knees to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. His hands were hot velvet at her waist as he positioned her between his knees. Lightning coursed from her breasts to her loins while his tongue played over her nipples. And then his fingers stroked between her legs and she forced herself away from his touch.

  “Please, Randy. I want all of you.” He met her eyes and lowered her to the bed beside him.

  Trying to catch her breath, she watched as he reached for his belt buckle. The rasp of his zipper sent a magical thrill through her. He rose and finished undressing, flashed her a smile as he took a strip of condoms from his nightstand drawer. He ripped off one packet and dropped the rest beside the lamp. She took a moment to absorb the sheer beauty of his form. His sculpted torso outshone the live models in her college art classes. The way his muscles flexed as he moved had her pulse thundering. She shifted to the center of the bed, and he lay down beside her. He stroked her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders. Every touch made her moan with pleasure.