The Shooting

by Chris Taylor

  David smiled down at her fondly. “Yep, I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

  “Lost, that’s where.” They shared another mutual look of contentment and understanding and Tom was suddenly envious of their closeness. Whether there was more to their relationship than they were saying, he had yet to discover, but there was no denying they shared a special bond.

  “How long have you been in college?” he asked, keen to discover how long they’d known each other.

  “We’re coming up to the end of our first year,” Lily replied. “I went to college straight out of high school. David took a gap year.”

  Tom digested that information in silence. No wonder she looked so young. She was probably eighteen or nineteen. Much younger than the girls he usually dated. As the oldest of seven children, Tom had matured early and had always had a finely honed sense of responsibility. He could still remember coming home after school and having to watch over his younger siblings until his mom came home. Sometimes it was an hour or two later, depending on what she’d been doing.

  Marguerite Munro had worked as a nurse during the early years of her marriage. After the children arrived, whilst she gave up her career, she became heavily involved in charity work and often didn’t arrive back home until well after they’d climbed off the school bus.

  Still, what was in an age? Tom had dated girls his age and even older who lacked common sense and know-how. Age didn’t always equate to maturity. Just like youth didn’t necessarily mean stupidity.

  Eighteen or nineteen—what did it matter? Somehow, some way, she’d touched him way down deep inside. He’d never felt that way with anyone and he owed it to himself to see if she felt the same.

  He looked at her and David again and while her roommate still had his arm around her shoulders, there was nothing possessive in his embrace—more like a protective, older brother. Tom could relate to that and he was absolutely fine with it. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was pleased she had someone looking out for her.

  A renewed surge of confidence flooded through him and he turned to shake David’s hand in farewell.

  “It was nice to meet you, David. I guess I’ll see you later.”

  David winked at him and then threw Lily a teasing smile. “You can bet on it. Have a nice time.”

  * * *

  Tom opened the door to the glitzy restaurant that overlooked Sydney Harbor and Lily was once again impressed with his old-fashioned manners. He’d opened the door for her when she’d climbed into and out of his car and now, was ushering her up the stairs. She held onto the balustrade to steady herself and found Tom’s hand right there at her elbow.

  “Are you okay?” he enquired in his deep, sexy voice that sent her pulse into overdrive.

  “Yes, thanks, I’m…I’m fine. My sandals are…a tad high. They’re slipping a little on the parquet floor.”

  He glanced down and nodded, at once understanding her dilemma. The highly polished tiles were a beautiful chestnut color and gleamed golden in the restaurant’s soft lighting, but it also looked hazardous to anyone wearing four-inch heels.

  “I don’t know how you walk in those things at any time, let alone over a polished floor,” Tom teased.

  Lily smiled. When he smiled back—a slow, sexy you’re-the-most-important-girl-in-the-world smile—her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t believe how quickly she was falling for him and despite all her silent promises not to get involved with a man who liked to drink, everything else she’d seen so far impressed the hell out of her.

  That was the problem. She wasn’t thinking with her head. He was funny and sexy and considerate and polite and she was letting those admirable qualities override her knowledge of his fondness for a drink. She needed to be a little more circumspect and find out exactly what had happened that night at Charlie’s party. In the meantime, she was going to enjoy being taken to one of her mother’s favorite restaurants.

  They made it to the top of the stairs and Tom guided her over to the maître’d, his hand still warm on her elbow. She should have taken offense at the proprietary feel of that, but the truth was, she liked it. The boys she’d dated in high school and even the ones she’d gone out with in college had the attitude that a girl could fend for herself and even though Lily was a feminist, she also liked to have her femininity appreciated.

  “Miss Lily! I didn’t know you were dining with us tonight!”

  Lily smiled fondly at the maître’d and gave him a warm hug. “Manny, how are you? It’s been ages! How are Mona and all of those grandkids? Still keeping you busy, no doubt.”

  Manny nodded, his face wreathed in a smile.

  “Max’s twins turned thirteen the other day.” He shook his head. “Where does the time go?”

  Lily smiled again. “You’re telling me. I’m almost finished my first year at college.”

  “No, bambina. It can’t be so. It only seems like yesterday your Mama and stepfather were bringing you up those stairs in pigtails and cotton socks.”

  “Ah, hm.” Tom cleared his throat and Lily suddenly remembered her manners.

  “I’m sorry, Tom, I’d like you to meet Manny Antonopoulos. Manny, this is Tom Munro.” She turned back to Tom. “Manny has been the maître’d here since I was a little girl.”

  Tom shook Manny’s hand and then turned to Lily.

  “I didn’t realize you’d been here before. I wanted to take you somewhere special.”

  “Don’t worry, this is somewhere special. Watsons by the Sea is my mother’s favorite restaurant and it’s also one of mine. My stepfather brings us here quite often. They do a fantastic pecan pie and the ice cream is to die for.”

  Tom’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “I take it you have a sweet tooth.”

  Lily shot him a wry smile. “I’m not a big eater. Sometimes I don’t have room for dessert and that’s the best part of all.” She shrugged. “So, I start at the other end. If I don’t have room for an entrée, it doesn’t matter.”

  Tom laughed outright. It was the kind of joyous rumble that came from deep inside him and people couldn’t help but respond to. Lily noticed a few of the other diners turn to look in their direction and smile. Even Manny chuckled. Tom directed his attention toward the maître’d.

  “Is it true, Manny? Does she really skip the main meal and head straight for the dessert?”

  Manny’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a sober face. “Oh, yes, it’s true Mr Munro. Most of our chef’s expertise is wasted on this one. It’s always been that way.”

  “I guess that means she’s a cheap date, then?” He winked, his expression telling her he was teasing.

  “Oh, no, Mr Munro, there’s nothing cheap about our Lily. She’s top shelf all the way.”

  Tom’s gaze gave her a slow once-over that had Lily curling her toes. Heat followed in a trail behind him and centered in her core. Her nipples hardened under his inspection and she silently cursed the clingy material that exposed her reaction to his gaze. From the way his eyes deepened to cobalt when they once again met hers, she could tell he’d missed nothing.

  What did she expect? He was a police officer, after all. Clearing her throat of sudden nerves, she urged Manny to show them to their table. A few moments later, they were ensconced in a cosy corner overlooking the harbor.

  Manny went to pull out her chair, but Tom beat him to it. Lily murmured her thanks. His warm hands skimmed across her bare shoulders and she shivered from the heat left in their wake.

  This was ridiculous! How could she be so turned on by a man she’d only just met? But no matter how much she tried to tell herself it was madness, her reaction to his nearness couldn’t be denied.

  He took a seat and pulled his chair closer into the table. His knee brushed against hers and once again, her pulse quickened. She wished for an instant that she could gulp down some wine in order to steady her nerves. Her friends had often told her alcohol was good for that.

  Having vowed never to get involv
ed with a man who drank, she’d also sworn off alcohol. It would be the worst kind of hypocrisy to indulge when she expected her man to exercise restraint—and a hypocrite she wasn’t.

  A waiter appeared with a wine list and a menu and then asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Lily opened her mouth, but Tom beat her to it.

  “I’ll have a Corona, thanks.”

  Lily’s jaw clicked shut and she stared at Tom in disappointment. Her reaction was ridiculous. She knew he drank. She’d seen him drunk. Somehow, she’d convinced herself there was another explanation; that his actions at the party were completely out of character. In fact, that he wasn’t himself at all that night. She couldn’t believe how much she’d set her heart on that hope.

  “And you, madam?”

  Lily blinked and realized the waiter was still waiting to take her order.

  “Um, I-I’ll just have a Diet Coke, thank you.”

  The waiter nodded and silently disappeared. Tom grinned and quirked an eyebrow. “I’m the driver, remember? I’m the responsible one tonight. Feel free to let your hair down. What’s your poison? Red or white? Or maybe you’re a cocktail kind of girl?”

  Lily was shaking her head long before he’d finished. “No, thank you. I-I’m good. The soda will be fine. I-I don’t drink.”

  Tom’s eyes widened in surprise and this time he laughed aloud. “A college student who doesn’t drink? That has to be a first.”

  She should have taken offense, but the teasing glint in his eyes took the edge off his words.

  She shrugged and offered him a self-conscious smile. “We do exist. In small numbers, I will concede, but that only makes us more unique.”

  “Hey, I’m all for unique.” His voice dropped to a husky growl that sent her pulse rate soaring. “You can be my unique any day.”

  His gaze moved over her face and then dropped lower to pause on her rapidly rising chest. Heat flared in his eyes and bloomed across his cheeks. Lily squirmed in her chair, feeling her response to his gaze way down deep.

  Before she could come up with a suitable reply, the waiter reappeared with their drinks. Lily stared at the bottle of beer that was placed near Tom’s hand, a wedge of lemon clinging to the top. The glass was icy and left imprints from his fingers as he picked it up and brought it to his lips.

  With dread that warred with fascination, she watched as his strong, tanned throat moved in time with his mouth. One swallow. Two. Hell, he was going for a third. Panic tightened its grip. She clenched her hands into fists.

  Tom set the bottle back down on the table and sighed in satisfaction. “Damn, that was good. Just what I nee—”

  As if only just noticing her reticence, he stopped in mid-sentence and frowned. “Lily, are you all right? You’ve gone as white as the tablecloth. What’s the matter? Are you feeling okay? Hell…”

  He looked around for a waiter and Lily hurried to reassure him. Reaching out, she took hold of his hand and squeezed. It was the first thing she thought of. Tom stilled and turned back to face her, all of his attention narrowed on her and their fingers.

  “I-I’m fine. Please, don’t make a fuss. I… It’s just…” She shrugged helplessly, suddenly unable to find the words. She couldn’t just tell him she didn’t date drinkers. She’d come off sounding holier than thou. He’d want an explanation and he probably deserved one. The problem was, she didn’t know if she was willing to give him one.

  Apart from her mother and Tony, the only other person who knew about her childhood was David. They’d shared their pasts over tears and chocolate. It was the night he told her he was gay. She’d urged him to tell his parents, sure that they would understand. She felt every second of his agony a few months later when his father proved her wrong.

  And so, while David stressed that not all men who drank were abusive alcoholics and had urged her not to let her father dictate how she lived her life, after the experience he’d had with his parents, she buried the tiny sliver of hope his words had kindled and refused to ever again consider the possibility of dating a drinker.

  She wouldn’t drink and she wouldn’t get involved with a man who did. It was as simple as that.

  Well, it was supposed to be simple. From the look on the face of the man who sat across from her, it was going to be anything but. His expression was filled with such concern and kindness, it nearly undid her. All of a sudden, she wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him the truth.

  “I don’t date men who drink.” There, she’d said it. Now she’d wait for him to bluff and bluster and pepper her with increasingly aggressive questions that usually turned into accusations and then, what was supposed to be a perfect evening would come to a sudden halt. She’d gather her purse and quietly excuse herself and they’d never see each other again.

  “Why?”

  The breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding poured out of her mouth in a rush. She stared at him, searching for signs of hostility and found none. What she did find was kindness and gentleness and a quiet curiosity.

  “Why do I steer clear of men who drink?”

  “Yes. Most men like a beer or two, especially when they go out. You must have a good reason why you’re against it.”

  She looked away, her thoughts in turmoil. She couldn’t remember ever being asked for a reason. Most guys went straight on the defensive. She should have known Tom would be different. The knowledge warmed her.

  “I-I guess I just don’t,” she said lamely, cursing her cowardice.

  A flicker of impatience flashed through his eyes, but his tone remained low and mild. “What happened to make you so afraid of alcohol?”

  She closed her eyes and shivered against the sudden tightness in her chest. For all of her desire a few moments ago to be honest with him, she didn’t know if she was ready. Could she find the courage to tell him? Could she handle the repercussions when she did? He was a drinker. There’s no way he’d understand how it made her feel.

  Tom reached out and took one of her hands and held it. “Talk to me, Lily. You’re shaking. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I deserve better than that. We hardly know each other, but it doesn’t seem to matter. At least, not to me. I-I feel something so strong for you… I can’t even describe it.”

  He dragged in a breath and then kept going, as if determined to lay everything on the line before he lost his courage.

  “I’ve never felt this way with anyone and it scares me half to death, but I need to see where it’s going, if you feel anything for me. Please, Lily, tell me what’s going on. There’s something very wrong and I don’t believe it’s me.”

  A flash of anger at his arrogance surged through her and then just as quickly died away. She wasn’t angry at him. After all, he was only telling the truth. It wasn’t him, it was all men—or at least, the ones who enjoyed a drink. She thought of what David had said and was suddenly filled with determination and then she focused on what else Tom had said.

  He felt the same connection that she did. He’d just said as much. A tiny flame of hope flickered to life inside her. Something told her she could trust him with her secrets. She’d tell Tom the truth and see where it left them. She only hoped it wouldn’t end in disaster, like David’s confession had.

  Forcing the awful memories from her mind, she drew in a deep breath and squeezed Tom’s hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the waiter approach, but Tom waved him away.

  “Talk to me, Lily. Please.”

  His quiet words and the sincerity in his blue-eyed gaze gave her the courage she needed. She took a quick gulp of her soda and then told him.

  “My father was an abusive alcoholic. When I was six, my mother finally left him. We stole away one morning, right after he left for work. By the time he arrived back home that evening, we were long gone. I was allowed to pack one suitcase of my favorite clothes and toys. We could only take what we could carry. Everything else was left behind. I cried for days over the dolls and books and dresses that hadn
’t fit in. The suitcase had been bursting as it was. And it was heavy. My mom carried it, along with hers, most of the way.”

  Tom’s hand tightened on hers, but he remained silent and let her speak. She shot him a look of gratitude and drew in another deep breath.

  “For the next few months, we lived in hiding, moving frequently from one rental house to another. I got used to changing schools and meeting new friends on a regular basis. I guess it’s one of the reasons I’m comfortable socializing with perfect strangers.” She shot him a small, wry smile. “I’ve had a lot of practice over the years.

  “We moved around a lot. It was hard for Mom to find work. She could only take on jobs that allowed her to work school hours and of course, she needed the holidays off. She was an only child and I’d never heard her talk about her parents. There wasn’t enough money for childcare, so Mom had to make sure she was home when school got out. When I was nine, she met Tony.”

  “Your stepfather,” Tom guessed.

  Without conscious thought, Lily’s voice softened. “Yes, my stepfather and a more kind and generous man you’ll never meet.”

  “You love him.”

  “Yes, I do and he loves me. What’s even better, he loves my mom with all his heart. I’ll love him forever for that alone. He saved her from a difficult life. He taught her to love again and he gave her back her self-esteem.”

  She sighed quietly. “I was too young to even know what that was when she was with my dad. It was only much later, when I was older, that I could appreciate and understand the horror of what she’d been through and how deep her scars ran.”

  “I take it your mom and Tony are both still alive?”

  “Absolutely. They’ve been married now for ten years and though they’ve had their ups and downs, they still love each other.”

  “So you believe in love, then?”

  Tom’s gaze grew warm with intensity and she couldn’t look away. Her heart skipped a beat and then accelerated. She caught herself from pressing a hand against her chest.