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Pushed to the Limit (Quid Pro Quo 1)

Page 2

by Patricia Rosemoor

CHAPTER ONE

  SYDNEY RAFERTY LORD scrambled along the damp edge of the cliff with her husband of several hours, taking care not to slip or let her camera bounce against the rocks. The sky was filled with clouds a threatening gray. The gusty wind whipped her heavy skirts around her legs, every so often exposing them to the chill of the moody late summer day. Far below their nerve-racking walkway, waves crashed against the Oregon shore, pounded the boulders strewn along the shallows and gouged out crevices that undercut the cliff.

  “How about here?” Sydney asked, thinking the spot perfect for a picture.

  Kenneth whirled and, tossing away his cigarette, swept her into his arms as easily as he’d swept her off her feet when they’d met two weeks before. His pale yellow shirt lay half-open. She touched his smooth, tanned chest, and found his human warmth reassuring. Kenneth was hers, all solid male, not some metaphysical figment of her imagination as she’d feared so many times in the past days when reality had blurred with dream.

  “You want to do it here?” he asked provocatively, cradling her buttocks and pulling her tight against him.

  His action took Sydney’s breath away. “I was suggesting taking your picture, you sex maniac.”

  Dark brows lifted over his heart stopping green eyes and his sculpted features drew into a mock-frown. “Oh. And here I thought you wanted my bod, Mrs. Lord.”

  “I do, Mr. Lord,” she assured him, her heart pounding strongly at the notion. She still couldn’t get over how much – and how often – he wanted her. “Maybe we should wait until we get inside your house.”

  Only after the justice of the peace had pronounced them man and wife that morning had they headed north for Stone Beach and Kenneth’s part-time seaside home. So far, all she’d seen was the outside of the wood structure where they’d left the car.

  “I guess I can wait... this time,” Kenneth finally agreed when a fine spray shot straight up the cliff and misted them.

  Sydney felt strangely bereft when her new husband released her. “So, how about that picture?”

  “I know the perfect place. It’s just ahead. You go up there.” He pointed to a high spot where saplings bent under the onslaught of ferocious and incessant winds. “You’ll get an incredible view of the area... and me, of course.”

  “That’s the important part.” She stood on tiptoe to brush his lips.

  “Mmm, don’t tempt me or you’ll never get that photo.”

  Sydney was tempted to forget about her camera altogether, but she wanted to finish the film since these would be the only pictures she’d have of her wedding day. With a sigh, she moved away from her husband and the dangerous waters that had played a central part in recent and disturbing dreams. Her uncertain state of mind had to do with the dreams’ unwelcome return after a decade of peace. She didn’t want to be different again. Carefully, she picked her way over rocks and across narrow crevices that would widen with time.

  Time. Something she and Kenneth hadn’t had much of. The impulsiveness that had made her a creative success in advertising had prompted her to marry a man she barely knew. But, in work, when things clicked, they clicked. Why should relationships be any different?

  They’d met at a beach town further down the coast where Kenneth had been going over blueprints with a client... and where she’d been trying to recuperate, a victim of job burnout during the day and perverse dreams at night. Sydney had just quit her L.A. ad agency in search of sanity. She’d made an auspicious start by meeting Kenneth and falling in love with him.

  Reaching a flat spot between the windswept trees, she tried to avoid the mud. His wavy dark hair ruffled out of its slick style, Kenneth was staring out to sea. Sydney aimed her camera and framed him in the viewfinder, admiring this perfect specimen of the opposite sex. She never judged a man by his looks alone, but it was difficult not to appreciate such male beauty.

  Feeling a little silly, Sydney grinned and yelled, “Hey, Mr. Lord.” When he glanced up over his shoulder, she snapped a picture and the film automatically advanced. “Come on, turn around and pose for me.”

  Sydney had never thought she would experience the overwhelming emotions that zinged her out of nowhere. After months of being harried, exhausted, more than slightly out of focus, she was overjoyed by these positive feelings. If she wasn’t as totally besotted and sure of things as Kenneth seemed to be, Sydney certainly was happy.

  She was still looking through the camera’s lens as her husband turned and waved, then struck a silly pose and gave her the crooked smile that made her heart leap. She was shooting and laughing when his face pulled into a mask of surprise. His arms shot out and yet he lost the struggle to keep his balance. His upper body wavered and his feet did a bizarre and uncontrolled dance.

  “Kenneth!”

  Heart pounding in sudden fear, Sydney found herself frozen and helpless as she watched, the horror of the situation magnifying the incident as if it were happening in slow motion. His feet seemed to fly right out from under him. For a second, he was suspended in mid-air. Then he went down hard and his lower body shot out over the cliff. His mouth opened in a silent scream.

  “Kenneth!” Sydney dropped her camera and ran.

  Chest flat against rock, he clawed at the smooth surface. Then, with a single shout of defeat, he slid inch by inch and disappeared from sight.

  “Oh, my God!” Sydney ran toward where he’d stood only seconds ago. “Please, tell me you’re all right.”

  Her only answer was the crash of ocean against cliff.

  Her toe caught the edge of a crevice. Sydney flew forward and went down to her knees. Sobbing now, heedless of her scraped legs, she pushed off from the hard surface and scrambled to her feet. She called her husband over and over to no avail. Nearing the cliff’s edge, she slowed, dropped to her hands and knees and peered over.

  “Ken-n-n-eth!”

  Voice absorbed by the pounding surf, she scanned the rocks below yet could see nothing that resembled a human being. But he had to be there... caught... hurt... his broken body assaulted by the rough waves. She had to get to him... help him... before...

  She refused to complete the thought, refused to face what might be despite her denials. Instead, heart pounding in her throat, she ran back the way they had come and found a path down to the water’s edge. Keeping her footing was impossible. She slipped and slid and clung ferociously to algae-slick rock, all the while scanning the dangerous shallows that drew ever closer.

  Nothing.

  This didn’t make any sense. Kenneth had to be here somewhere. As a wave hit a nearby rock and spewed pebbles at her, Sydney flinched from the pain, turned her head, but continued on. The going was treacherous.

  As were her thoughts: What if Kenneth had drowned?

  She swallowed the desolate feeling even as she remembered the dream. Boulders had threatened to break her body, waves to drown her. Not Kenneth. But then her dreams were never clear. Denial pushed her on, kept her clinging to sharp rocks and continuing to search until her eyes lit on something moving in the water... something a familiar pale yellow. Kenneth’s shirt. She’d found him.

  “Hang on!” she gasped, lunging forward.

  At first touch, the cloth slithered through her fingers. She grabbed and yanked. The material pulled free from where it had caught on a jagged rock tooth. Staring at her prize, Sydney was swept off her feet by a wave that hit her full face. A glancing blow stunned her and she swallowed water. Went under. Fought. Gagging from the salt taste, sputtering for air, she found a handhold, righted herself and grabbed onto another rock.

  Sydney’s eyes swept the area in front of her just as the yellow cloth, free of any human entanglement, was sucked under the surface by the current.

  Just as Kenneth must have been.

  Kenneth!

  His name echoed in her mind as did the truth she so desperately wanted to deny. Sydney made an unintelligible sound, a mourning for what might have been.

 

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