SEAL Firsts

by Sharon Hamilton

  “You okay, Christy?” Marla, her personal trainer, touched her arm.

  Christy realized the class had stopped for a water break. She looked up and saw the concern in Marla’s eyes. Christy buried her face in the white towel around her neck. “No. I’m not alright,” she said, her voice muffled through the towel so Marla couldn’t hear the waver there. Memories flooded in—how she’d tried to scream and how that big hand had covered her mouth, how she’d felt with him pressed down onto her body, and how she’d reacted to those damn blue eyes that seemed to drink in her face. She could easily mistake it for attraction. What was going on?

  “Aw, honey.” Marla wrapped her arms around Christy’s waist. “Take a break. Come on, let’s go into my office for a bit.”

  Christy nodded and let Marla lead her into a private office off the spin room. Marla motioned to a chair in front of her desk, and Christy collapsed there, continuing to wipe her face and neck with the towel. Marla punched the phone and spoke softly.

  “Marla here. Hey, can Trey finish my spin class for me? Something’s come up.” Marla locked eyes on Christy.

  “I’m fine. Don’t do this, Marla,” Christy whispered.

  “Okay? Good. Tell him I owe him one.” Marla hung up the phone. “Not a problem. Happens all the time.” She pulled her desk chair over and held Christy’s hands in both of hers. “Come on, spill it. Don’t make me dig.”

  “Today was supposed to be my first open house.”

  “Yup, you were excited about it.”

  “Yes, I was…until I got there…” Tears welled up in her eyes and her lower lip quivered.

  “Christy, what happened?”

  “There was this crazy guy there who was asleep in the master bedroom, stark naked.”

  “Did he touch you?”

  “Yes…” Christy’s chest was heaving and she found it difficult to breathe.

  “The creep. Did he hurt you?”

  Did he hurt me? “He scared me, that’s all.”

  “You call the cops?”

  “No. I mean, he thought I was breaking into his house. I couldn’t call the cops. Maybe Wayne set it up…I’m just not sure what happened.”

  “Who’s Wayne?”

  “The agent whose listing it is.”

  “Tell me honestly, Christy. Were you hurt?”

  “He ripped off my pantyhose and messed with my purse, but no, I’m not hurt.”

  “Jeez, Christy. What do you mean messed with your purse? Screw the purse. He scared you to death!”

  The two women looked at each other. Christy’s composure was coming back, but Marla seemed to be losing hers.

  “I know. He could have killed me, but he didn’t.”

  “Exactly. And you’re giving him a pass for acting like a Neanderthal? Why would he rip off your pantyhose?”

  “He used them to tie my hands together.”

  “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. That’s assault, Christy. That man should go to jail.”

  “Yes, I understand, and under normal circumstances, I would agree. But somehow I got that this guy was simply reacting to what he thought was a threat. Maybe he’s not right in the head. I don’t want to have anything more to do with him. I just want to stay away. He let me go and he didn’t really hurt me, just scared me is all. I don’t know, but I somehow don’t feel it’s entirely his fault.” She looked up at Marla. “Does that sound crazy?”

  “Absolutely. You’re not thinking straight at all, Christy.”

  “He secured my wrists to keep me quiet…so he could talk to me.”

  “That sick bastard.”

  “No. I mean I was pretty hysterical and I did bite him and even spiked his knee with my high heel. I fought as hard as I could, Marla. He attempted to get information out of me, like he thought I was some sort of undercover agent or something, like I was there to do him harm. His mind had it all screwed up.”

  Marla nodded.

  “Are there lots of paranoid whackos like this in San Diego?”

  “Not generally. But then, I don’t seem to attract them like you do.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  Marla rubbed her hands with her thumbs. “How did you get hired to hold this open house?”

  “Wayne.” Christy winced as she forced herself to say the name again. “He told me they were expecting me. I don’t want to think he purposely set me up, but you know, I can’t figure it out otherwise.”

  “What can I do to help?” Marla’s sincere voice soothed.

  Christy stood up and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Marla. You already have.” At the door, she turned. “I’m going to report this to my manager tomorrow as soon as I get into the office. If I felt I was in danger now, I would call the police.”

  Marla shook her head. “I’d say call them just in case, Christy. Don’t be a wimp. That’s how come these creeps stay out there. Nobody turns them in.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow, I promise. Tonight, I’m going to take a hot bath and go to bed early. Thanks again, Marla.”

  Marla handed her a business card with her home and cell number on it. “Call me tonight if you need company. Honest. If you have trouble sleeping, that’s a gut check that you need to call the cops, okay?”

  The warm bubbles in Christy’s bath sluiced all the tension from her muscles and bones. But every time her eyelids closed and she began drifting off to sleep, she saw those blue eyes staring down at her, his full lips, slightly upturned at the edges, and his swallow that had forced her attention to wander down his tanned neck and rest just under his stubbled chin. She could smell the muskiness of this man’s heaving chest as he arched over her while she peeked at the trail of light brown hair that led downward to the place where their bodies touched. When he’d whispered in her ear, asking who she was, he had pressed his cheek next to hers. She’d had to endure his scent all the way home in the car. There was a part of her that wanted to reach up and—do what? Kiss him?

  Get a grip!

  After the bath, she went to bed with a big glass of warm milk, taking her favorite romance novel with her. The bath had done its job and she fell asleep, waking up at midnight to turn off her reading light.

  She lay back again, deciding to put up with the fear while she studied him in her memory—every inch of him, and fell asleep for the second time.

  Mr. Simms came in early, so Christy made sure to arrive first, just a little before eight o’clock. She knew no one else except the office staff would likely come in until well past ten.

  “Good morning, Christy,” he said as he passed by her cubicle. “Nice to see you here bright and early. That’s a good sign.” He appeared in a chipper mood and Christy didn’t pick up any indication he was somehow involved in the fiasco the day before.

  Good. I’ll just tell him, then.

  “Mr. Simms, I have something to speak with you about. It’s urgent.”

  “Oh? Something happen?”

  “Yes.” Christy was surprised at her forcefulness.

  “Okay, come on in.” He indicated she should follow him to his office. Once inside, he closed the glass sliding door behind her.

  Christy took up a chair in front of the red cherrywood desk. Plaques from various agencies, awards from the Board of Realtors, as well as several service groups, including Rotary, decorated the walls. An impressive collection, Christy had to admit, not quite sure why she hadn’t noticed them before.

  “Shoot.” He waited without expression on his face, hands folded over the calendar desk blotter. On the back credenza sat a picture of a woman, two children, and a black Labrador retriever. A family like she’d always wanted.

  “I went to do the open house on Sedgeway yesterday for Wayne. You know, his new listing?”

  “Oh, that’s a great one. Bank sale, right?”

  “Um, yes. Short sale.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Well, I got attacked.”

  Mr. Simms fell back in his chair and almost toppled over. He righted himse
lf and let out a big sigh. “Did he…did he…hurt you?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He didn’t rape me, but he, he…” Christy’s eyes stung in reflex, trying to create tears that would no longer come. Her lower lip trembled. Her throat was parched.

  Mr. Simms was quick to make it around his desk. He knelt in front of Christy and placed his hands on her upper arms with care, as if he didn’t want to appear inappropriate. “I’m so sorry, Christy. Have you been to the police?” he asked, his demeanor genuine and tender. She appreciated that.

  “No.”

  “Why?” He rubbed her arms gently and then took her hands in his. His moist, warm hands were a comfort to her. “We have to report this. You know that,” he said softly. “Could you identify him?”

  Oh yes, I could. I can’t get the look and smell of him out of my mind.

  “Mr. Simms, I’m thinking there was some sort of a mistake. Maybe even a prank. I don’t want to blame Wayne, but this guy was like, waiting for me. He was…he was…naked.”

  Simms removed his hands from her arms and stood up, shaking his head.

  “Bastard. Did he say he knew Wayne?”

  Christy could tell Simms was considering Wayne’s involvement, which further underscored some of her own hesitation to be anywhere near the man.

  “No, he didn’t. In fact, the guy acted like he’d never heard of Wayne.”

  The appearance of a very angry Wayne, puffed up and red, tore apart their conversation. He pulled open the sliding glass door without being given the nod of approval from Simms, and wedged himself into the room, making it feel suddenly very stuffy.

  “What the hell happened, Christy? My clients called me, and they’re so mad they want to cancel the listing.” His tiny bloodshot eyes darted back and forth between Christy and their manager.

  “Wait a minute, Wayne.” Simms put a palm on Wayne’s sausage-shaped chest, holding him back from coming any closer to her. “Christy here was just explaining what went on yesterday, and I have to say, I find it highly disturbing.”

  “Disturbing? Disturbing? I’ll tell you what’s disturbing!” Wayne said, looking like he wanted to crash through Simms and grab Christy himself.

  Great! Another man wants to attack me.

  “I work damned hard to get a good listing, then try to take my wife and kids to the zoo—just try to take one Sunday off to be with them the way I never do—and I drive by the house on our way home and, voila, no open house signs. No sign of Christy anywhere. Then I get home and I get this irate message on my answering machine telling me I’m fired.”

  “Wayne, you sack of shit.” Christy’s own surprise wasn’t half of what got reflected on Wayne’s and Mr. Simms’ faces. One of the office staff came running to check the ruckus so Christy toned down her voice. “I was going to hold it open, but there was this naked crazy guy who came after me and…and…”

  “What?” Wayne looked genuinely shocked.

  Simms interrupted. “Apparently, Christy was attacked, Wayne. That’s what she was trying to tell you.”

  “No way.”

  Christy hated the man now. Genuinely hated him. His sense of morals, his scheming, his lack of sensitivity to her and what she was going through, and the way he’d pushed his oversized body into Mr. Simms’s office. Anger boiled in her stomach. Christy had reached her limit.

  “I’m not putting up with this. I quit. No way can I work in the same office with this…this…idiot.” She pointed to Wayne, wanting to say something nastier but thinking better of it.

  Christy tore around her manager and sneered at Wayne as she pushed him with one hand, which sent him careening against a bookshelf with a loud crash. Christy saw the ruckus had attracted every staffer in the area. Simms bolted past Wayne, who tried to right himself, still thrashing in a nest of books and files.

  “Christy,” Wayne called after her. “Christy, wait a minute. This is all wrong.”

  She turned and glared at him. “That’s the first truthful thing I’ve heard all morning.”

  She dug in her heels and whirled around to exit, then ran straight into the chest of one very solid wall of man, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and three red open house signs in the other.

  Chapter 4

  “You!” Christy said, suddenly aware of the understatement. His blue eyes melted her bones. She needed air and pushed against him to step back a safe distance, if that was possible.

  She wondered if he felt the electric ripple that traveled with lightning speed all over her skin’s surface.

  Probably not.

  His face had that soft smirk, and he held his head at an angle. He looked more uncomfortable holding the flowers than the three metal open house signs.

  “I came to apologize for the misunderstanding,” his deep voice, cracking just a little, was dripped in honey and ensnared her as if he’d tied her up with pantyhose again. She shivered at the very thought that this might be something she could look forward to.

  “Good. Saves me the trouble of calling the police.” As soon as she’d said it, she wondered why. Calling the police was not what she was really thinking.

  “That won’t be necessary. Just hear me out first, and if you still want to call them, I won’t be able to object. It’s your right. But I’m sorry about…”

  “This him?” Simms immediately stepped next to Christy, and, after sizing up the physique and bearing of the stranger, pegged him. “Navy, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wayne appeared at the end of the hallway, but his ego had turned to pudding. He hovered in the shadow, half protected by a wall.

  Simms continued. “I’m Carl Simms, the manager here. Ms. Nelson was just telling me how you terrorized her yesterday. Scared this nice young lady to death. I’ve advised her to call the police, and if she doesn’t, I will.” Simms delivered this with determination, but Christy noted he stayed a healthy two steps away from the large Navy man.

  The visitor had been looking at Simms, but in the silence that followed, his blue gaze turned back on Christy, as if to beg for time alone with her. And damn, she was going to give it to him too. There was something there she needed to find out about. She had too many questions about the day before to be consistently angry. And how could she, when he looked at her like that?

  “Why don’t we go to the conference room and discuss this?” Christy offered softly.

  “That sounds fair to me,” the stranger replied. He didn’t take his eyes off Christy when he added, “Simms, you can join us if you like.”

  “Christy?” Simms asked.

  “I think I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

  “Can someone take these please?” the man said, holding up the heavy metal signs like they were a carton of Chinese food.

  “Those are mine.” Wayne darted from the shadows and grabbed them away without looking at the stranger. The signs clattered and he almost dropped them.

  “I’m guessing you must be Wayne.”

  Wayne shot him a murderous look, then adjusted his bravado and walked away, carrying the signs awkwardly in both hands. He was swearing under his breath, his sport coat stretching across his shoulders and his knees bumping the metal signs as he lumbered off.

  Christy drew back the sliding door to the conference room as the stranger passed by too close. A fresh soap scent made her eyes flutter and her nose itch. He found a spot at the head of the table facing out to the reception area and remained standing until Christy slid the door closed. When she took the chair at his left, he sat in tandem with her.

  He pushed the flowers in her direction across the laminate tabletop. She noticed again the tattoo of footprints from some unknown three-toed creature that traversed up his forearm.

  “These are yours. Once again, I am very sorry.” His voice, raspy and soft, drew her complete attention. His large hand squeezed the plastic outer wrap with a delicious crunch. The package displayed a colorful spring gathering of daffodils, stock, an
d baby green chrysanthemums. A few sprigs of lavender had been added for garnish. The glorious smell of the bouquet filled the room. The flowers had obviously been hand selected and the bouquet freshly made. She noticed things like that. Some of her past boyfriends hadn’t even bothered to take the price tags off the supermarket bunches. This bouquet probably set him back a good twenty dollars.

  A whole lot cheaper than bail. Some of her anger returned, but she gave him a curt thank you.

  He pulled his hand back and leaned against the table. He took a deep breath, and then exhaled as he began his story. “My name is Kyle Lansdowne. I am in the Navy. I’m looking for my Navy buddy and best friend, who is missing.”

  “Okay.”

  “The house…where we…met…belongs to my friend, Armando. I’d begun to look for him and thought I would start there.”

  “Naked?”

  “Well.” Kyle suppressed a grin and nodded his head. “I understand this may not make sense, but I actually meditate like that all the time. I didn’t expect company.” He flashed those blue eyes up at her again.

  “Obviously.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m really not a weirdo.”

  Christy knew she had to break eye contact or she would never get through this. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes.

  Mr. Simms popped his head into the conference room. “Everything all right?”

  Christy realized how weary she must have looked from her night of tossing in her sleep. The stress of the last twenty-four hours had gotten to her. She could barely hold it together.

  “It’s okay,” she said to Simms.

  Simms nodded, staring back at Kyle, but leaving them alone again as he closed the door. Kyle rubbed his palm where her teeth marks remained clearly evident. When he noticed her looking at them, he stopped and buried his hands under the table.

  “So why the questions about all this covert stuff? The tying me up with my pantyhose? What was that all about?”

  “Again, please let me apologize. I thought maybe you were involved with Armando’s disappearance.”

  “Me?”

  Kyle rolled his shoulders. “I just assumed you might be one of the bad guys.”