Time Search (The Time Counselor Chronicles Book 3)

by Danele J Rotharmel

  Zeke chuckled. Capturing her hand, he pulled it down to her side.

  Leaning closer, she murmured, “I gave you permission to kiss me a while back, but you wouldn’t do it. Will you kiss me now?”

  Zeke’s eyes gleamed behind his thick glasses. “No.”

  She looked at him in confusion. “Why not? Do you still think I’m not ready for us to kiss? That’s what you said before.”

  He chuckled lowly. “Nicole, you’re ready for kissing, very ready.” Smiling, he said softly, “So am I.”

  “Is it because you want our friendship established a bit better?”

  He shook his head. “Our friendship is firmly established. I think it’s safe to say that we’ve become best friends.”

  “I know you love me.” Nicole bit her lip. “Is it because you aren’t sure that I love you?” Looking at him, she said earnestly, “I do love you, Zeke. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “Oh, Nicole,” he said tenderly, “I know you love me, and I love you more than life itself. It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Proximity.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Right now, due to Drake, we’re living under the same roof. When I start kissing you, I want to have a front door that we can close between us when it’s time to say good night.”

  Nicole looked at him in surprise. “Zeke, we’re both adults, and we’re both Christians.”

  “Yes, but we’re also human and very much in love. We dedicated our relationship to God, and I want us to remember our courtship without any hint of remorse. Kissing will add an electric element, and I don’t think it’s wise to introduce it while we’re living in the same house.”

  Nicole sighed heavily. There was wisdom in his words, but she didn’t always like being wise. “Well, if you aren’t going to kiss me,” she grumbled, “then I need chocolate. Lots of chocolate. A rejected woman always needs chocolate.”

  He put a gentle finger beneath her chin. “You aren’t rejected. You’re cherished, valued, and loved. I want to throw caution to the wind and start kissing you, but our relationship is too important to be mishandled.”

  His eyes glowed in a mesmerizing way. She felt a delighted shiver running down her spine as he murmured, “Our kisses won’t spoil because of a little waiting; it’ll just make them better.”

  With womanly intuition, Nicole realized that Zeke was right. His conservative pace was ensuring that his every word, his every glance, and every slight brush of his fingertips, was creating in her a flood of sensation that rivaled her former boyfriends’ best kisses. She grinned. His delay of kissing was also creating in her a bubble of anticipation that was growing steadily. Looking forward to Zeke’s kiss was starting to resemble the excitement she used to feel as a child looking forward to Christmas day.

  She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “I can live with a little delay, but hurry up and catch Drake soon. I’m getting tired of waiting.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “But as long as I’m under your roof, I’m enacting a strict ten-second policy as far as close physical contact is concerned.”

  “That’s why you keep pulling away when I hug you?”

  He nodded. “I love you so much that ten seconds of having you in my arms is about all I can handle safely right now.”

  Nicole giggled. “Can we stretch it to thirty?”

  Zeke threw back his head and laughed. “Haggling are you? How about fifteen?”

  “Twenty-five?”

  “Twenty?”

  “Sold,” Nicole crowed delightedly.

  She started to throw herself into his arms, but Zeke held her back. “If we’re going to stretch it to twenty seconds you’ll have to be just as accountable as I am—no teasing me.”

  She looked up, and although she was still smiling, she felt solemn. “I promise. I don’t want to mess this up any more than you do.”

  “In that case,” he said with his eyes glittering behind his glasses, “come here.”

  Smiling, she stepped forward and nestled in his arms. She gave a soft sigh. She’d never experienced anything that felt so right as being held in Zeke’s arms. After exactly twenty seconds, they stepped slowly apart.

  Zeke chuckled. “Chocolate helps?”

  She giggled and nodded.

  “In that case,” he said, with a grin, “I’ll grab us a couple of chocolate bars while you change those shoes. I’ll even make sure they have caramel inside to show how much I care.”

  16

  Marc sat in loaded silence as he drove with Crystal by his side. He couldn’t believe her unexpected beauty. Trying not to be obvious, he glanced at her. He was astonished at her transformation. He peeked at her again, and this time, she intercepted his glance and shot him a look brimming with laughter. He ripped his eyes away, but a few seconds later, he found himself studying her again.

  She isn’t just gorgeous; she’s stunning.

  “So, how do I look tonight?” Crystal asked in an innocent-sounding voice.

  Marc swallowed hard. “You look sensational.”

  “On a scale of one to ten, where would I fit?”

  Squeezing the steering wheel, he said in a thick voice, “A ten… Actually, a ten wouldn’t do you justice.” Trying to control his breathing, he smiled. “You break the scale tonight, Cris.”

  She grinned. “I’m not a zero then?”

  “No, definitely not. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

  “Would you say I look…alluring?”

  Marc tugged at his collar, trying not to blush. “Crystal Stuart, at this moment, you’re the most alluring woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “Good.”

  Crystal giggled softly. After a few seconds, her giggles turned into a bubbling wave of full-blown laughter. Laying her head against her headrest, she laughed long and hard.

  Marc blinked. “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t follow.”

  “So you think I’m a ten and not a zero, and that I’m alluring, do you?”

  “Yes, I do. I…” Marc’s words trailed away. His stomach plummeted. He felt his face turning bright red. “You overheard what I said to Zeke, didn’t you? Oh, Cris, I’m sorry. That was terrible of me.”

  Her brown eyes twinkled. “Yes, it was. But I got my own back in a rather delightful way. It’s been medicine to my soul hearing you eat your words. In fact, you haven’t just eaten them, you’ve positively gobbled them down.”

  Marc’s lips twitched. “You little devil. You and Nicole cooked this up, didn’t you?”

  Nodding, she giggled.

  “I wondered if something was going on.” He smiled. “Well, all I can say is when you make a man eat his words, you don’t do it by halves. You look ravishing.”

  “Hearing those words makes it definitely worth it.”

  “Makes what worth it?” he asked.

  “This dress,” she said, squirming. “It’s itching like mad.”

  Marc erupted in laughter. “It serves you right, you little temptress. Is there netting underneath?”

  “No. It’s all the double-sided sticky tape that Nicole plastered all over me to keep this silly bodice up. I thought Nicole was nuts when she suggested a strapless, backless dress, but she promised she had a secret weapon that would defy the physical laws of gravity.”

  Marc gave a bark of laughter. “You’re taped into your dress?”

  Looking over at him, she grinned cheekily. “I sure am.” Looking down at herself, she bounced a little in her seat. “I have enough tape slathered on me that everything’s staying in place. I even passed the jiggle test.”

  Laughter bubbled up in Marc’s throat, but he manfully swallowed it down. “What’s that?”

  “Before we did my hair, Nicole had me lay upside down off the side of her bed and jiggle around—you know kind of bounce and jostle. She said if everything stayed in place during the jiggle test,
I was good to go.”

  Marc bit his lip to stop his laughter as she continued, “After the jiggle test, I had Nicole put some more tape on me anyway. I didn’t want a wardrobe malfunction.”

  “That was very wise,” he said in a tightly controlled voice.

  “I thought so too. But I’ll tell you one thing, it’s going to take the Jaws of Life to get me out of this contraption when I get home. I’ll probably be skinned alive when I start peeling off the tape.”

  His lips twitched. Since he didn’t trust himself to speak, he said nothing at all.

  Crystal glanced at him. “You look very nice too…” She hesitated and then said in a voice dripping with mischief, “Were you able to figure out how to rent a tux?”

  Marc gave a shout of laughter. “You wretch. You and Nicole had me spitting nails.”

  “I know.” She giggled. “It was a hoot watching Nicole work on you—and it served you right.”

  He blushed. “I know.”

  “So,” she asked with twinkling eyes, “did you rent it?”

  “I own this tux, you little imp. I happen to attend black-tie events quite often.”

  “I’m glad you own it. When I see my pretty dresses in my closet, I remember the fun I’ve had wearing them. They’re practically three-dimensional scrapbooks.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” His voice softened. “From now on, I’ll remember tonight when I look at my tux.”

  Crystal smiled.

  They rode in companionable silence.

  After a while, she asked, “Can I turn on the radio?”

  When he nodded, she flipped to a station playing big band music and sighed.

  “What are you thinking about?” Marc asked, seeing her dreamy expression.

  She gave another happy-sounding sigh. “Webster’s Dictionary.”

  He forced himself not to laugh. “Oh?”

  She nodded. “Webster defines perfection as ‘flawlessness—the quality or state of being free from fault or defect.’ That pretty much sums things up. Wearing my opera gloves is the only thing that could have made this night better.”

  Marc blinked, feeling a rush of tender emotion that he couldn’t quite identify. He could tell by her tone that she was being completely honest. He wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, so he focused on a safe topic. “Why didn’t you wear your gloves?” he asked softly.

  “Nicole said they wouldn’t go with this dress, and I trust her judgment…” Suddenly, her voice trailed away. Her eyes seemed to focus inwardly.

  “Cris, what’s wrong?”

  Without responding, Crystal searched frantically through her tiny bag. Giving an exasperated mutter, she began rifling through his glove compartment.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Paper,” she mumbled hurriedly. “I need paper and a pen. Do you have them?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Crystal sat frozen, obviously lost in thought. “No matter.” Turning quickly, she huffed on her window. Marc watched in bemused amazement as she took the tip of her finger and wrote rapid mathematical equations on the fogged glass. When the fog disappeared, she huffed again. And so huffing and writing, she filled her window with formulas he had no idea how to decipher.

  When her window was full, Crystal huffed over the whole glass, peered at it, and clucked her tongue. “False alarm.” She pushed at glasses that were no longer perched on her nose. “I thought I had something for a moment, but it won’t work.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. If you can figure out how to make an egotistical jerk like me eat my words, you can figure out your math problem too.”

  “You may be right.” Grinning, she murmured naughtily, “Tell me again that I look alluring.”

  “Crystal Stuart, you don’t just look alluring. You look like a devastating bit of trouble headed my way.”

  ~*~

  Drake sloshed fuel up walls and down halls. When he’d saturated the house, he spilled a trail of fuel out the backdoor. He lit a match and let it drop. With a soft whoosh, flame ran away from him, following the liquid trail. Suddenly, a blinding flash and a thundering roar filled the sky.

  Backing away from the intense heat, Drake watched with satisfaction as flames engulfed the house. As he walked away, he heard windows shattering and wood buckling. In the distance, sirens pierced the night. He chuckled. They would be too late. He’d done his work well. All that would be left would be ash.

  ~*~

  Half a world away, Angelina was sitting in a Roman restaurant near the fountain outside the Pantheon. She was eating a Macedonia gelato with Karl, and she was savoring every bite. She’d ordered the gelato with trepidation. After all, Alex’s list had her try smalahove in Norway, and it turned out to be a sheep’s head on a platter. Fortunately, the gelato was little balls of fruit ice cream served inside a hollow lemon. As Angelina rolled the exceptional treat in her mouth, she decided this was one of Alex’s tasks that she’d definitely be repeating. She was making gelato a habit as long as she was in Rome.

  ~*~

  Hidden in Montana, Laura was thumbing through bridal magazines with Peter. They were jotting down ideas for their wedding, but she wasn’t enjoying herself. Groaning, she threw her pencil down. “It doesn’t seem right to be planning our wedding while our friends are in danger.”

  Peter nodded solemnly. His eyes held hers. “Do you want to stop?”

  Grimacing, she shrugged. “And do what? Watch television? I’ll go nuts if I listen to another game show.”

  Peter squeezed her hand. “In that case, let’s get back to work. Would you like doves released when we’re announced as man and wife?”

  “Not on your life,” she replied, impatiently batting a red curl away from her face. “When Jake and June released doves at their wedding, one of the birds pooped in June’s hair.”

  Reaching over, Peter wrapped the offending curl around his finger. “Your hair’s gorgeous enough that even bird droppings couldn’t dim its beauty.”

  “What a lovely thing to say.” She felt her tension melting as she smiled. “And here I was thinking that Dan was the poet of our bunch.”

  Peter chuckled. “He is. I tried to write you a love poem, but I figured it’d be better for our relationship if you never heard it.”

  “Be a sport,” she coaxed. “Lay it on me. I’ve never inspired poetry before.”

  His ears blushed. “Are you sure you won’t laugh?”

  When she nodded, Peter lowered his voice into what she assumed was an earnest attempt at a romantic murmur.

  Laura, you’re a great girl.

  You make my heart whirl.

  Your beauty is a delight.

  I like squeezing you tight.

  Your hair is pretty red.

  I’m glad we’re about to wed.

  Laura’s lips twitched just once. “That’s the loveliest poem I’ve ever heard—and the lines rhyme wonderfully well.”

  “I know it’s pretty awful, but I did my best.” Peter laughed. “Believe it or not, those six lines took me three hours to write. The fifth line gave me fits. At first I wrote, ‘your red hair is bewitching to my soul,’ but I couldn’t think of anything to rhyme with soul but bowl, and bowling balls aren’t romantic.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I think you did a marvelous job.”

  “I do love you,” Peter said awkwardly. “I just wish I could express it better. I’m not very good with words—at least, not as good with them as Dan.”

  “Maybe you’re not,” Laura admitted with a tender smile. “But a man can use his lips for better things than reciting poetry, and you happen to be awfully good in those other areas of expression. I’d far rather you spend your time kissing me than spouting sonnets.”

  “Is that an invitation?” Peter murmured, leaning forward and demonstrating his prowess in that area.

  Laura sighed happily. “See what I mean? You just told me more than Shakespeare could have dr
eamed of saying.”

  As they smiled at each other, Peter cleared his throat. “So what did we decide about the doves?”

  She rolled her eyes. “We decided that you should cross them off your list, you silly man. They’d be a disaster waiting to happen.”

  Drawing a line through doves, Peter said with a mischievous smile, “How about individual ice sculptures for each reception table?”

  Laura gave a hoot. “Do you know how much that would cost? Cross it off.”

  “A hot air balloon to whisk us away after the ceremony?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “A nacho cheese fountain and tortilla chips? Supposedly, it’s all the rage.”

  Laura stole the magazine he’d been perusing. “What on earth are you reading?” she asked, thumbing through the pages.

  Peter grinned. “I marked page twenty-four. I particularly liked the magazine’s idea of a pyrotechnics display after the ceremony. Dan and I would have a blast setting off the fireworks.”

  “You want me to trust a couple of delinquents with matches and a whole bunch of fireworks?” Lips twitching, Laura gave an exaggerated shudder. “You’d burn the church down. You know you would.”

  “How about a cake that spins and lights up?”

  Groaning, she dropped her head in her hands. “Whatever happened to a white dress and vows?”

  “Oh, they’re in there, too,” he said, tapping the magazine. “They’re just surrounded by glitz.”

  Sighing, Laura shoved the offending magazine away. “How about we elope? Or better yet, how about we get Sam to marry us right now, and we forget planning a wedding all together?”

  Peter’s eyes sparkled. “Don’t tempt me.” He paused. “You’re joking, right?”

  Nudging the stack of bridal magazines with her finger, she shook her head.

  The laughter in Peter’s eyes transformed into a speculative look. “Would you miss having a fancy wedding? Would you feel cheated?”

  “Not a bit, but Gil would kill us. I promised she could be our wedding coordinator.”

  “She could be our coordinator here, couldn’t she?” His voice took on an excited tone. “She could tell us where to stand and fold our paper napkins in some fancy origami way.”