“I know. But you’re a guest, and I’m used to getting them on my own.” She turned around, the glasses in her hands and a bottle of merlot tucked under her arm. “Do you like wine? I guess I should have asked before I got the glasses down. If you don’t, I have milk and iced tea. I might even have some beer in the fridge—”
“Wine’s good.” He took the glasses and the bottle of wine from her and set them on the kitchen table. After he uncorked the wine and filled the glasses, he took the opportunity to survey his surroundings.
The apartment suited her: neat but cluttered, with an eclectic mix of old and new. A functional brown couch took up one wall, the faded fabric covered with a brightly colored, hand-crocheted afghan. The top of the coffee table was barely visible under stacks of books and magazines, while a modest entertainment center housed the usual electronics. A pair of wooden bookcases took up most of the far wall, their weathered pine shelves haphazardly packed with books, knickknacks, and photos in an odd assortment of mismatched frames.
Curious, he went over to check out the pictures. He’d always been intrigued by the pictures people chose to frame and display. They spoke volumes about the person, about what mattered most in their lives, and Sarah’s choices were no exception: Sarah with a group of young women in a bar, each holding a martini glass. Wearing a cap and gown with her arm draped around an elderly woman. Standing in front of the Lake Eola fountain, the same old woman at her side.
But what truly captured his attention was a faded Polaroid of a young woman hugging a coltish, brown-haired girl. Judging by the shoulder pads and big hair, the picture dated back to the late 1980s. The woman was looking down at the child and smiling, but the sadness in her eyes told a much different story.
“That’s my mother,” Sarah said from the kitchen. She picked up the pot and dumped the pasta into the colander in the sink. Her expression shifted as she watched him from across the bar, mirroring the troubled look on her mother’s face. The resemblance was uncanny. “She passed away a few months after that picture was taken.”
“Oh.” Realizing he’d stepped into a potential minefield, David set the picture back on the shelf. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Sarah shrugged. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. It happened over twenty years ago.” Still, her features remained clouded. Then she shook her head and a smile replaced the darkness. “So, how hungry are you?”
The wine bottle was soon empty, dinner turned to dessert, and dessert turned into an evening watching the Miami Dolphins get their asses kicked by the New England Patriots on Monday Night Football.
How on earth did this happen? He’d only meant to drop by for a quick thank you before retreating to the peace and quiet of his own apartment. Somewhere along the way, it had morphed into an evening of pasta, popcorn, and football.
Rowdy football.
“Come on, you idiot! Are you blind?” Sarah yelled at the screen, ticked at the ref over a blown call. “That was holding!”
The woman was a force of nature. Over the course of the evening she’d sucked him under her spell, captivating him with a carefree attitude that bordered on contagious. And for those few glorious hours, he’d forgotten all about the outside world and lost himself in her company.
“What do they pay these guys for?” She let out a huff of disgust, outraged over some perceived injustice on the forty-yard line.
“To make sure the Patriots win?” David suggested, scooping a handful of popcorn from the bottom of the bowl. The ref flagged the Dolphins for offensive pass interference, pushing the Dolphins back to their own forty-five and out of field-goal range.
“Seems like it,” Sarah grumbled, her lips pressed into an angry slash. She picked up her glass before noticing it was empty. “Damn. Oh well, game’s almost over anyway.”
Actually, the game was over before the third quarter ended. The Dolphins had fumbled on their own twenty, digging themselves into a hole that only got deeper as the clock ran down.
Next door, Buford began to howl.
David sighed, pushing up from the couch with unexpected reluctance. “I guess that’s my cue.” He walked to the kitchen and set his wineglass and the popcorn bowl on the counter by the sink. “Adam won’t be home until God knows when, so I better walk Buford before he eats my couch.”
“Yeah, it’s about time for me to get to bed anyway.” Sarah glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall and stifled a yawn. “I have to get up at five.”
“Got you beat. I’ll be up at four thirty.”
“Showoff.”
David smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed an evening so much. Something about Sarah lifted his spirits and dripped a dash of color onto his black and white world. Made him … happy. And at that moment, for the first time in decades, he truly felt alive. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Amazing.
His gaze drifted right to find Sarah staring back at him, the most peculiar look on her face. And when their eyes met, he could have sworn he saw lust darkening those beautiful baby browns.
She averted her eyes and blushed.
His smile widened. Visceral sparks tore through him, filling him with an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her, to curl his hand around the back of her neck and plunder those lush lips. Would she taste as sweet as he imagined? God, how he wanted to find out.
Too bad you can’t always get what you want. Buford let out another howl, effectively killing the moment and bringing David back to his senses.
“You better go,” Sarah said as she turned off the game and set the remote on the coffee table. She crossed to the foyer and slid the chain off the door. “It sounds like Buford’s getting antsy. The last thing you need is Mrs. Buckley complaining about the noise.”
David followed her to the door, his shoes so heavy they felt like they were made of concrete. He needed to get out of there before he did something stupid and lived to regret it. Only a fool would get involved with a neighbor, not to mention a mortal. Besides, he’d probably be gone in a couple months and he hated leaving loose ends.
He paused long enough to capture the moment in his mind. He wanted to remember the way she looked, the subtle scent of her perfume, the sound of her voice when she spoke his name.
“Thanks again for dinner,” he said as he stepped into the walkway outside her door. “And for the good company.”
“Any time, David.” There was a curious gleam in her eyes as she watched him from the foyer. “Next time, bring Adam with you. He could use a little meat on his bones.”
Fat chance. “Will do.”
Later that night, David sat at his desk with pencil in hand, scratching feverishly against a fresh sheet of paper. Working from memory he recreated every line, every angle, every nuance that made Sarah Griffith such an intriguing woman. Like a man possessed, he layered depth and detail, not stopping until a two-dimensional Sarah stared back at him from the page.
Finished, he set down the pencil, leaned back in his chair, and took a moment to reflect on his handiwork. He had to admit, it wasn’t bad. Over the decades he’d honed his technique, spending countless hours drawing everything from trees to birds to random people in the park. The exercises in discipline quieted his mind, keeping the demons at bay where a parade of excesses failed.
He’d drawn her with a smile that reached her eyes, her face alight with a glimmer of mischief. Using shadow and texture, he’d accentuated her high cheekbones and full lips, gave a spark of intensity to those beautiful eyes.
Remembering a detail he’d nearly forgotten, he grabbed for the pencil. With a few subtle strokes, he added two tiny moles along the right side of her jaw. Satisfied, he held the paper up to the light, comparing it to memory so he could make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything else.
The rumble of an engine broke his concentration. Glancing out the window, he saw a black Ford pickup pull up to the curb. The passenger door opened and Adam spilled out, giggling loud enoug
h for David to hear. Adam gave the driver a quick wave before staggering toward the building like a drunken sailor on shore leave.
With a sigh, David stuffed the drawing under the thick stack of papers on his desk. He preferred to keep his hobby private, and that wasn’t easy with a trainee living under the same roof. He’d revisit the drawing later, after a rough day when his soul was weary and he needed a moment of sanctuary from the darkness.
chapter 7
Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.
Sarah’s day started with a fender bender on I-4 that blocked two lanes of traffic and added an extra thirty minutes to her drive time, followed by another run-in with the protesters camped out in front of Cava Tech’s main gates. This time, the jerk in the bunny costume and two of his goons blocked the entrance, refusing to budge until the police arrived. As they were cuffed and tossed into the back of a patrol car, the protesters chanted, “Free Bugs!” while cameras captured the action for the six o’clock news.
Of course, no bad day would be complete without an altercation with Angelo. He’d been in another one of his award-winning moods, making one of the lab techs cry by the time he was finished with her. Then his attention shifted to Sarah, criticizing her procedures and demanding a full report on the most recent test results before day’s end. Which normally wouldn’t have posed a problem, if Jackie hadn’t called in sick. But she did, which meant Sarah was flying solo in the lab, compiling cell ratios until her eyes felt like they were going to bleed.
To make matters worse, thoughts of David had crowded her mind, wrecking her concentration and making her uncharacteristically scattered. She still couldn’t get over his sudden appearance after dropping off the face of the earth for the better part of the week. He was the last person she’d expected at her doorstep last night, looking handsome and healthy and completely healed.
Even more astonishing was the way she got butterflies in her stomach every time he made eye contact. Something about David gave her a major case of the warm fuzzies, awakening emotions she’d put on the back burner so she could focus on her career and Pearl. And how pitiful was that? Here she was, closing in on the big three-o, and her most promising romantic interest pitched for the other team.
The parking garage was almost empty by the time Sarah finished her reports and called it a night. She’d been the last one out of her lab, leaving only Richardson in the main office and the two night janitors. Only a faint scattering of vehicles remained in their spots, giving the building the eerie ambiance of a long-deserted ghost town.
With keys in hand she stepped up the pace, the click of her heels echoing across the cavernous structure. For some reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Without breaking stride her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, searching for hidden dangers but finding none.
When she heard what sounded like footsteps behind her, a bolt of fear set her heart to racing. Should she run, or would she be better off facing her attacker? Would anyone hear her if she screamed? Adrenaline pumping, she weighed the merits of fight versus flight. In the end she chose to go on the offensive and whirled around.
Nothing.
“Get a grip,” Sarah muttered under her breath, feeling foolish but still digging through her purse for the slender canister of pepper spray she kept stashed in one of the inside pockets. She was almost to her car, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution.
She hurried past a silver Dodge minivan and felt a surge of relief when her car came into view. Never before had a Mazda Miata looked like such a beacon of security. That is, until she noticed the tires.
“Oh, crap.” Both of the passenger-side tires were completely flat, making the car tilt a little to the right. Sarah chewed on her thumbnail, debating what to do next. She only had one of those little doughnut spares in the trunk. And because she had the worst luck in the known universe, she’d let her AAA membership expire two months ago.
“Problem?” a masculine voice said from behind, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. With a yelp, she spun around to find Angelo, looking as refined and proper as ever. And maybe a little pleased.
“My apologies,” he said, his palms held up in mock surrender. “I did not intend to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” Sarah said, her heart still thumping like she’d just come out of a Saw movie. Thank God she hadn’t hosed him with the pepper spray. Imagine how that would have looked on her performance report. Discreetly, she slipped the canister back into her purse. “I just wasn’t expecting anybody to come up behind me.”
“You sounded distressed. I thought it best to investigate.” He gave her a questioning look. “What is the problem?”
“Flat tires.” Sarah pointed at her lopsided car.
“Hmm, I see.” Angelo angled himself between Sarah and the Miata. He crouched down beside the front tire and gave it a cursory inspection. “You must have picked up a few nails. Not too surprising, given all the construction in the area.”
“True.” Cava Tech was strategically located in the middle of Orlando’s burgeoning medical research community, with the surrounding area growing by leaps and bounds. Families bought homes close by to cut their commute, while businesses moved into neighboring strip malls, eager for a slice of the economic pie. “But I only have one spare in the trunk.”
“Well, in that case, why don’t I give you a ride home?” Angelo asked as he rose to standing. He reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a set of keys. “It’s the least I can do, after being so short with you this afternoon. You can call a tow truck in the morning.”
She glanced back at her car. “I don’t know …”
“Oh, come now,” Angelo cajoled, his voice smoother than crushed velvet. He inched closer, and the scent of expensive aftershave enveloped her like a musky cloud. “What are the odds of getting a tow truck so late in the day? You’ll be stuck here for hours. It’s not safe for a woman to be out here all by herself.”
As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. Even though security was tight at Cava Tech, the thought of being stuck in a dimly lit parking garage for hours while waiting for a tow truck gave her the creeps.
“Well, I suppose you’re right.” Sarah forced out a smile, all the while trying to convince herself that accepting a ride from Angelo beat sitting alone in her car. As the saying goes, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.
“Then it’s settled.” Angelo smiled, a picture of triumph under fluorescent lights. He made a sweeping gesture toward the sporty black Bentley parked in one of the reserved spots by the elevators. He pressed a button on his remote and the convertible top began to retract. “And while we’re at it, we can finally have that dinner date.”
An hour and a half later, Angelo’s Bentley glided through the front entrance of Sarah’s apartment complex. He pulled into a parking spot in front of her building, cut the engine, and stepped out of the car.
Contrary to her darkest expectations, Angelo had behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout dinner, refraining from any double entendres or unwanted physical contact. In fact, he’d acted outright charming, although that might be the wine talking.
Angelo rounded the front end of the Bentley and opened the passenger side door. “Allow me,” he said, offering his hand.
“Thank you.” Sarah took his hand, keenly aware of the warm strength of his grip as he helped her out of the car. She felt a wave of disorientation when she stood, her balance not quite up to par. Angelo was quick to put both hands on her waist, steadying her. “Whoa. I should have passed on that last glass of wine.”
“Nonsense.” Angelo gave her a smile, his eyes moving over her in a manner far too intimate for an employer-subordinate relationship. “You didn’t even finish your second glass.”
Part of her brain processed Angelo’s last statement, wondering why two glasses of wine gave her such a strong buzz. It wasn’t like she’d chugged them like a sorority sister on Spring Break. She’d sipped them slowly
over the course of dinner, so why was it affecting her like this?
The question evaporated from her clouded brain as Angelo guided her up the stairs to her apartment. “Why don’t you give me your keys? I’ll get the door for you.”
“It’s okay, I can handle it.”
Sarah found herself questioning the wisdom of her words as she struggled to fit the key into the lock. Good lord, what was her problem? Two drinks never inflicted this much damage to her manual dexterity. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs, and suffered a wave of dizziness for her efforts.
Angelo put a hand on her hip, turning her toward him. Eyes darkened with lust, he moved closer, caging her between the door and his body. “Then how about a good-night kiss? I promise not to bite, unless you ask me to.”
Sarah opened her mouth to say no, but his mouth covered hers, swallowing the words. The kiss was skilled and sensual, with an underlying aggression lurking just beneath the surface. She gasped at the feel of his tongue inside her mouth, his hands firm on her hips.
She jerked her head back, breaking the kiss. The back of her head thumped against the door and for a second she saw two Angelos. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Of course it is,” Angelo countered, his mouth moving to her neck. “You’ve played hard to get for far too long, Sarah. I was beginning to grow impatient.” His breath felt impossibly hot against her flesh as his teeth nibbled a path toward her earlobe. “It’s time we got to know each other more intimately.”
“No.” Sarah’s vision blurred as she struggled to keep a clear head. She knew what he wanted, could feel the evidence pressing against her hip. One of his hands slipped under her shirt, inching northward at an alarming rate. Much to her horror, she realized her body welcomed the attention. Her skin felt hot, prickly, overly sensitive and aching to be touched. But she didn’t want to be touched by Angelo. No, she wanted somebody else, somebody who didn’t share the same attraction.
“Let’s go inside,” Angelo murmured, his free hand fumbling for the door handle.
Grave Intentions Page 9