Be Mine, Miss Valentine

by Patricia Kay

  "No," Laurie whispered, then winced.

  "Look, Laurie, I know you're in pain, so don't try to talk any more than you have to. I just wanted you to know what's happened. Pete ran away when he heard us coming, and so far we haven't tracked him down. But when we do, in order to get help for him, you've got to press charges."

  "No." Laurie shook her head. "I won't."

  "Laurie, please be sensible. If Pete doesn't get help, one of these times he might kill you or one of the kids."

  "H ... he'd never hurt the boys," Laurie said.

  "He hurt one of them today!"

  Laurie's eyes widened. "H ... he never!"

  "Oh, yes, he did," Ronnie said. She quickly explained what had happened and where she'd taken the boys. "And you can go to Sam's house, too, when you're better. You can stay with him until you can get on your feet, Laurie."

  "H ... how will I ... take care of myself?" Laurie whispered. "I never had a job." A tear slipped from one eye and slid down her pale cheek.

  The sing-song voice of the hospital's paging system mixed in with the soft canned laughter of the television set.

  "I'll help you. I promise."

  She reached for Laurie's hand. The two women looked at each other for a long moment; then Ronnie squeezed Laurie's hand tightly in silent sympathy and understanding.

  * * *

  "I'm proud of you, Veronica," Alex said as Ronnie finished telling him about the happenings of the day.

  "I didn't do anything," she said. "Just my job." But her eyes sparkled with pleasure at his approval.

  "You did. You went that extra mile for that woman. You could have just sent her off to the hospital and let the county worry about her kids. Instead you tried to help her." Ronnie might look as if she needed someone to take care of her, but Alex now knew better. She was a strong woman, with strong emotions and a sense of commitment to her job and her town. She was a wonderful woman.

  "I wish I knew where Pete Jacobsen went," she said with a sigh.

  "He'll probably come skulking back to town. His kind never goes far. He'll whine and cry and expect his wife to take him back again."

  "I hope she doesn't. Not unless he gets help."

  "Did you persuade her to press charges?"

  "She won't." Ronnie frowned, and her beautiful blue eyes clouded with worry. "She's agreed to leave him, but she doesn't want him to be 'put away,' as she calls it."

  "What will she do? How will she support herself?"

  "I've promised to help her," Ronnie said.

  "Do you have any idea how?"

  "No." Ronnie sighed. "I made the promise on the spur-of-the-moment, without really thinking." She bit her lip, and Alex suddenly wanted to make love to her. "But now that I think of it, maybe I could talk to Ed Traymore over at the hardware store. When I was in there the other day, I noticed how shorthanded he is now that his oldest daughter has to stay home and help her mother so much. Maybe he'd be willing to give Laurie a chance."

  Alex stroked her neck, then pulled her toward him. "I can't wait another minute," he said. "I've been thinking about kissing you ever since you walked through the door tonight."

  "Just kissing?" Ronnie teased.

  "Well . . . maybe a bit more than kissing ..." Her lips parted, and Alex was flooded with the desire to keep her there, in his arms, forever. If only we could close out the rest of the world, he thought. If only I could stop time. Then he quit thinking and let himself drown in the sweet taste and feel of her.

  * * *

  "But why do you have to go home?" Alex asked as he watched Ronnie pull on her red shorts and tie her halter top around her breasts.

  "Because I told the department to call me the minute they find Pete, and I don't want them to call me in the middle of the night and not find me home," Ronnie said. She slipped her feet into her white moccasins.

  "But you have a beeper," Alex protested. He sat up against the brass headboard, and his tanned chest glistened with sweat. The night was hot and muggy, and the opened window didn't help much.

  "But if they have to call me by my beeper, they'll know I'm not home, won't they?" she asked reasonably.

  "So what?"

  "I don't want them to know."

  "You said everyone is probably talking about us anyway," he insisted stubbornly. He patted the bed next to him. "Come back where you belong."

  Ronnie had turned to leave, but his words stopped her. That's just it, she thought. I don't really belong there. I'm only a temporary occupant. She turned to face him. "Alex, you'll leave this town soon, but I have to live here. Yes, I think they're all talking about us and speculating, but that's not the same as knowing. I don't want them to know. I don't want them gossiping about me and feeling sorry for me when you're gone."

  His eyes dropped, and he made no further protest.

  "Good night, Alex. I'll see you tomorrow," she said softly; then she walked out of the room and out of the house.

  But once she'd undressed and turned on her window air conditioner and climbed into her lonely bed, she couldn't fall asleep.

  Now it was only seven more days before he'd be gone. And he would leave. She'd had a tiny glimmer of hope all along—hope that something would happen, something would change, and Alex would stay with her. But tonight that hope had been extinguished. She'd given him an opportunity to tell her she was wrong—that he wouldn't leave, that he loved her, that they'd work something out—and he hadn't. He hadn't denied her assertion that he'd go soon, and she would be the one to face the town and their talk.

  Everyone will feel sorry for me. I won't be able to hide how I feel. I'll die inside when he goes, and everyone will know how miserable I am.

  Why can't Alex love me? she wondered. I know he wants me, but that's not the same as loving me. Did he still love his wife? He'd said he didn't when he'd told her about Margo, but Ronnie wasn't sure if he even knew how he felt himself. Maybe Ronnie had simply been convenient for him, someone to ease the loneliness.

  How could any man ever entirely forget a woman like Margo? She'd been gorgeous, with a face and body that could turn heads, a woman desired by every man who looked at her. She'd been all the things Ronnie wasn't.

  On and on her thoughts swirled. Even if he did tell her he loved her, what difference would that make? A declaration of his feelings wouldn't change their circumstances. He was a famous playwright and he lived in New York City—where he belonged. She was a county sheriff, and she lived far away from the bright lights—where she belonged. He couldn't leave his life for her, and she couldn't leave Juliette. Aside from the fact that she'd hate living in the city, she had an obligation to the town and its people—people like Laurie Jacobsen, who was depending on her, and Sam, who loved her. Ronnie had worked hard to gain the respect of her constituents, to build her career. How could she just toss it all away?

  And a long-distance romance would never work. And after awhile, they'd get sick of only seeing each other sporadically. Ronnie wanted to get married and have children. She wanted a normal life in Juliette with a man who loved her.

  Was it possible that Alex might consider moving to Juliette? No. Even though he'd been happy there this summer, it was only because he needed the peace and isolation. But soon he'd be completely healed, and then he'd be happy to go back to his milieu. And when he was ready for a woman in his life, she'd be sophisticated and glamorous, and she'd love living in New York City and being the wife of a famous playwright.

  Well, thought Ronnie, since I know all that, why did I try to make him feel bad tonight? Why not just let him go? Without guilt, without remorse, without any recriminations.

  Finally she fell asleep, but her dreams were troubled, filled with images of Alex, and several times she whimpered softly.

  * * *

  Alex stood outside in the heavy night air. He couldn't sleep, but standing out here wasn't much of an improvement over tossing restlessly in his bed. The moon was almost completely obscured by scudding clouds. The air smelled of impend
ing rain. Somewhere off in the distance he heard the wail of a siren. He looked up at Ronnie's apartment. The drone of her air conditioner cut through the silence. Her windows were dark.

  He wished he were up there with her. If she hadn't made that remark about the people of the town talking about her once he was gone, he would have asked to go home with her.

  Alex closed his eyes and leaned against the cool brick of the carriage house. He forced himself to think about leaving Juliette. Leaving Ronnie. God, he could hardly stand it being away from her for one night, let alone the rest of his life. But how could a permanent relationship between them work? Was he capable of committing himself to her wholeheartedly? Could he ever allow himself to do that again? Another failure would destroy him. Uncertainty mixed with fear filled his mind.

  The crunch of gravel startled him. His eyes popped open.

  "Sam? Is that you?" he called softly.

  There was no answer, and Alex listened for a few minutes, but heard no other sound. It must have been my imagination, he thought. Or maybe that blasted cat, Hector, was prowling again. Sam had been falling down on his promise to keep the cat confined, and Alex had had another run-in with the belligerent feline a few days before.

  Alex sighed heavily. He'd better go in, try to get some sleep. A raindrop slapped his forehead, and in the distance, thunder rumbled.

  Alex pushed open the door and walked down the hall to the living room. Maybe he'd just pour himself a snifter of brandy. That'll help me sleep, he thought. The curtains in the living room windows billowed like ghosts in the sudden wind. The cooling air felt good against his skin, and Alex sank into a chair close to the window and took a sip of his brandy.

  Suddenly he heard a deafening crash from the direction of the main house. It sounded like wood splintering and glass breaking. He jumped up, and the brandy glass flew out of his hand and shattered on the tile floor. Ignoring the broken glass, Alex raced to the front door and pushed it open. As he ran outside, lightning flashed against the charcoal sky, and in the sudden illumination he saw Ronnie's back door swaying drunkenly on its hinges.

  "Oh, my God!" he said. Someone had broken into her apartment. His heart pounded. And as he raced to her stairs, taking them two at a time, the rain exploded from the sky.

  Chapter 9

  Alex burst into Ronnie's apartment. Rain cascaded down in furious sheets, and lightning crackled and popped like gunfire. The noise of the sudden storm almost obscured the noise coming from the direction of Ronnie's bedroom, but Alex turned unerringly toward the sounds of the scuffle, then pitched head first toward the floor as his feet stumbled over an obstacle.

  Alex winced against the sharp pain in his shin and scrambled to his feet. In the flashes of light from the storm he saw he'd tripped over a kitchen chair lying on its side in the middle of the floor.

  "Ronnie!" he shouted, fear rising like bile in his throat.

  "Alex!"

  Her answering call propelled him. He raced to the bedroom, pushed open the door and lunged at the dark figure standing over someone lying in a heap on the floor. As he grabbed the intruder, Ronnie's breathless voice said, "Alex! Let me go!"

  Only then did he realize the arms he had imprisoned were soft, feminine arms. Only then did he start to shake with delayed reaction.

  "Oh, God, Ronnie. You're all right." He pulled her closer and ran his hands up and down her arms. "You're all right."

  "Of course I'm all right. Let me go. Let me turn on a light," she said.

  Seconds later soft lamplight revealed the limp body of a strange man lying on the beige carpet next to Ronnie's bed.

  "What happened?" Alex said as he pulled Ronnie back to the safe circle of his arms. Her small body trembled as he pulled her close and stroked her hair. Dressed in a short satin nightgown the color of roses, she looked too small and too lovely to have overpowered the wiry intruder. Alex's heart still beat erratically, residue of the fear he'd felt.

  "That's Pete Jacobsen. He must have kicked open my back door," Ronnie said. "I heard the noise; then I heard lightning and thunder and rain, and it seemed as if everything was happening at once."

  "Did he hurt you?" I'll kill him if he did, Alex thought.

  "No. He just scared me. He was shouting for Laurie. I guess he thought she was here, but he was so drunk, I'm not sure what he thought. I grabbed my gun from the dresser drawer when I heard the break-in, and when he came lurching into the bedroom I hit him over the head with the butt of the gun."

  "That's it?" Alex said. "You hit him over the head, and he just fell down?"

  Ronnie chuckled softly. "Sounds a little anticlimactic, doesn't it?"

  "Oh, God, I don't care. All I care about is you. You're safe, and that's all that matters." He didn't know what he'd have done if she hadn't been safe. Even the thought caused him to tighten his arms around her. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of her.

  "Alex..."

  "What?" He kissed her hair.

  "Please, Alex ... let me go. I've got to call the department ... tell them what happened."

  Alex sat on the chair by her dressing table and watched as she picked up the phone by her bedside. While she calmly explained the night's events, he tried to make sense of his jumbled thoughts and emotions. She was magnificent. Just look at her. Calm, rational, sitting there like nothing happened. Her dark curls were in wild disarray, and her face was flushed and her clear blue eyes gleamed. He wanted to gather her in his arms again and make wild love to her. Kiss her and touch her and hold her and make her call out with pleasure. He wanted to keep her with him, protect her and love her.

  That was it. Love her.

  I love her.

  Happiness exploded through his body like the rain exploding through the night sky, careening through his mind and heart.

  I love her.

  He watched as she stood up. Pete Jacobsen stirred. Ronnie looked at Alex.

  "Don't worry," Alex said. "I'll sit on him if he moves a muscle."

  "Good." She smiled, and Alex's heart caught at the sheer delight of watching her smile. "I'd better get dressed before the guys get here."

  Alex smiled as she raised the nightgown and lifted it over her head, revealing her tiny, perfect body. It never stopped pleasing him to know Ronnie wasn't shy around him. She quickly donned panties and bra, then pulled on a pair of white cotton pants and a red T-shirt. She shoved her feet into the white moccasins she'd worn earlier and picked up her hairbrush, giving her hair a few careless swipes. She'd taken only about two minutes to dress, but in Alex's eyes, she looked as good as any model or actress who prepared for hours to face the cameras.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, after the deputies had taken Pete Jacobsen away, and Sam, who had finally awakened at the sound of sirens, had gone back to bed, Ronnie sank down on the side of her bed and sighed.

  "Thank goodness that's over," she said. She looked at her bedside clock. "Good grief. It's four o'clock. We'll both be exhausted tomorrow."

  "I don't feel tired," Alex said. He felt too excited, too energized by the knowledge of his love for this fabulous woman. In fact, he probably wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

  "I don't either," Ronnie said ruefully. "Too much adrenaline still pumping through me, I guess."

  "Come home with me," Alex said. "I don't want to leave you." He saw her start to protest, knew she wanted to say she could take care of herself. He raised his hand. "I know you don't need me to look after you. That's not what I meant."

  "What did you mean?" Her eyes darkened as they captured his.

  Alex could see the little pulse beating in her throat. The room felt charged with electricity as the rain pelted her windows. "I meant I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you, of being without you," he whispered.

  He saw her eyes close for a second. When she raised her lashes and looked at him again, her eyes sparkled with the sheen of tears. She swallowed, and Alex had difficulty breathing. She wet her lips, and her face twisted. She
stood and turned her back to him.

  "Don't turn away from me, Ronnie." He covered the distance between them in two strides, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. "Don't ever turn away from me again."

  Her lower lip trembled; and Alex, filled with a longing to comfort and love her, lowered his mouth, capturing her soft lips with his. An overwhelming love surged through him as he felt the desperation and need in her response.

  They tumbled onto her narrow bed, and the fury of their lovemaking seemed one with the fury of the storm raging outside. Finally, when the violence outside spent itself, the violence inside subsided, and the lovers fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

  * * *

  "Don't go to work today," Alex coaxed. "They'll understand. Stay with me. We have so much to talk about."

  The pleading light in his soft, gray eyes was difficult to resist, but Ronnie shook her head. "I have to. It's my responsibility. What happened last night is just part of my job."

  Alex sighed, and Ronnie smiled. Sometimes he reminded her of a little boy when he didn't get his way. "Well ... okay," he said. His crooked half-smile tugged at her heart. "But come over right after work. I have a lot to tell you. And something important to ask you."

  Ronnie's heart leaped into her throat. He looked so serious. Could he mean...? All her hazy dreams seemed to float in her mind. She nodded her head. "All right." Her voice sounded strange to her ears. She cleared her throat. "Now, get out of here, and let me get ready."

  As Alex turned to leave he said, "I'll be thinking about you all day."

  Ronnie hugged herself as he left. Me, too, she thought. Me, too.

  * * *

  Alex hadn't thought he'd be able to accomplish any work that day, but surprisingly he had. He'd settled down to the final revisions of Act III about eleven that morning, and now, at three, it looked as if he were finished. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. The muscles of his neck ached from leaning over the typewriter for hours.