Time Search (The Time Counselor Chronicles Book 3)

by Danele J Rotharmel

  “I don’t think that would satisfy her.” Laura sighed. “She probably has her heart set on the doves, the pyrotechnics, and the hot air balloon. You know how she likes planning things. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hires a marching band to precede me down the aisle.”

  “With her playing the lead trombone?”

  “Trombone, nothing. She’ll be the drum majorette leading the whole shebang with a baton.” Laura kicked a wad of paper by her foot. “But truthfully, if we nix a big wedding, I think Gil will survive the disappointment.”

  “What about your mom?” Peter asked. “It wouldn’t be nice for us to get married without even telling her we’re engaged.”

  “That could be awkward. I can see it now, ‘Hi, Mom. Remember me talking about Peter, the guy I work with? Well, we were kidnapped, fell in love, and got married. So sorry we didn’t take the time to tell you, but it all happened rather fast…’” Laura paused. “Actually, Mom would get over the shock pretty well. She might even get a kick out of it. But my brothers wouldn’t, and they’re the ones we need to worry about. My oldest brother, David, is particularly protective. He wouldn’t take kindly to me showing up with a husband he’d never met.”

  Peter made a face. “There’s always a buzzkill, isn’t there?” He flipped through another magazine. “What do you think about riding away on horseback?”

  “Not a chance. I can’t ride, and horse droppings are even bigger than bird droppings.” Laura grabbed the magazine and tossed it to the floor. “What do you think about giving Sam a holler and letting the chips fall where they may? I’ll bet I could sweet talk my brothers.”

  “And if you couldn’t?”

  “Tar and feathering isn’t too painful, is it?”

  ~*~

  Lurking in an alley, Drake watched the monstrous fireball dancing in the night. The sight filled him with primal pleasure. As a fire truck roared up and blocked his view, he frowned. He needed a better vantage point. He didn’t want to miss a second.

  ~*~

  Marc had a great time with Crystal during dinner. Every few minutes, she’d grab his arm and give a tiny squeal. Then she’d motion with her eyes and gesture with her chin in the general direction of a celebrity she’d spotted. Her enthusiasm, and her refreshingly different way of looking at things, was proving to be a source of delight. He was discovering that she had an offbeat sense of humor that kept a bubble of laughter rolling in his chest. To his surprise, he found that he wasn’t just having a good time. He was having one of the best evenings of his life.

  When the last dish had been removed, the dancing began. Marc had been enjoying himself, but his enjoyment hadn’t squelched his alarm over dancing with Crystal. The thought was daunting. He was no longer concerned with his toes. He was concerned about her wellbeing. If she fell on the dance floor, she’d be humiliated.

  Studying the twirling couples, he shuddered. When he danced with Crystal, he’d have to keep her away from ladies with long dresses that her shoes could catch. Looking at a row of potted palms, he shivered. If she hit one with her foot, the row would go over like a line of dominoes.

  Next to him, Crystal was swaying in her chair to the music. Her eyes were glowing as she watched the dancers. Marc took a deep breath, determined to do his duty, but before he could, a blond man asked Crystal to dance. Nodding happily, she took his hand. Soon, she was twirling around the floor.

  Feeling an unreasonably sharp sense of loss, Marc viewed the blond man with extreme distaste. But his glare transformed into a look of amazement as his attention was captured by Crystal. She never put a foot wrong. She never missed a step. The more he watched, the more astonished he became. Crystal wasn’t just a good dancer—she was one of the most talented dancers on the floor.

  With a bewildered smile, Marc leaned back in his chair and studied her. She was the most beautiful woman in the room, and as she twirled and spun, her motion brought the musical notes to life. Watching her dance was like watching liquid music. He’d never seen anything like it.

  When the song ended, Crystal’s partner escorted her back to their table. Before she sat down, a red-haired man stepped forward and claimed her. Sliding into the man’s arms, she once again moved around the floor on winged feet.

  When that song ended, Crystal never had a chance to make it off the floor. A dark-haired man nabbed her. Narrowing his eyes, Marc looked around and realized there were several men keeping their eyes on Crystal. He’d never have a chance to dance with her unless he took matters into his own hands.

  Tucking Crystal’s tiny handbag in his pocket, Marc walked over and tapped the shoulder of the man holding her. Bowing slightly, the man stepped aside. Marc felt a rush of heady contentment as he took Crystal into his arms and moved with her to the rhythm of the music.

  Crystal’s eyes were sparkling. Everything about her seemed to be radiant. As they whirled around the dance floor, she began to giggle.

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “I guess you can dance after all.”

  “You little wretch.” He chuckled.

  Marc watched with enjoyment as the light from the chandelier glistened in her hair. Her curls looked like molten gold. He couldn’t understand how she could go from dowdy to dazzling in one afternoon. Sooner than he liked, the dance ended and another man stepped forward to claim her.

  Glaring, Marc growled, “Shove off. She came with me.”

  As the man turned away, Crystal stared at Marc with scandalized eyes. “I can’t believe you said that. It’s not good manners to dance two dances in a row with the same partner at these events. You should dance with someone else.”

  Marc swirled her in a circle. “I know the dance etiquette, but I’m ignoring it tonight, and so are you.”

  “Oh, I am, am I?”

  He nodded. “I told Zeke I’d keep an eye on you.”

  “You’re dancing with me for Zeke’s sake, eh?”

  Smiling, he spun her again. “I’m dancing with you because you’re the prettiest woman in the room, and the best dancer on the floor, and I’m a selfish cad.”

  Her eyes widened and twinkled. “Well, in that case, dance away.”

  As they glided through the crowd, Marc’s forehead furrowed. “Cris, how is it that you dance so well? You’re so graceful.”

  The light died in Crystal’s eyes. She stepped heavily on his foot. It was the first clumsy move she’d made all evening. “You probably do think it’s odd,” she replied. “I suppose it is.”

  Suddenly, Crystal’s body lost all sense of the timing of the music. She felt like lead in his arms. “I’ve been klutzy my whole life,” she said in a troubled voice. “My mother was ashamed to have such an awkward daughter.”

  Seeing the way her eyes were clouding with pain, Marc felt his heart squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” she muttered. “Mother thought embarrassing me would motivate me to be less of a klutz. She’d have her bridge friends over and make me serve them tea. They’d count out loud every awkward move I made. Mother would tell them stories about my clumsiness, and since the women had children in my class, the stories would get spread around school.”

  Crystal’s foot sent a potted palm teetering. “I’d try to sneak up to my room right after school to avoid making a fool of myself. While I waited for Mother’s bridge club to leave, I’d watch old movies starring Grace Kelly. My favorite was The Swan. I must’ve watched it a thousand times. When Grace danced with the professor to Bronislaw Kaper’s ‘Ballroom Waltz,’ she was so incredibly graceful. I used to put on an old pair of opera gloves and whirl around my room pretending I was Grace Kelly dancing to that waltz.” Crystal’s movements were as discordant as sour notes in a melody. “I never felt awkward when I pretended to be her. I never felt awkward when I danced.” She lowered her eyes. “But I know I really am—”

  Swiftly, Marc put a finger beneath her chin and raised her eyes to his. “Crystal Stuart,” he said softly, “Grace Kelly has nothing on you. You’re a
mazing.”

  Crystal blinked rapidly. Rosy color washed over her face. Her eyes began to shine, and suddenly, she became the music again, gliding and twirling with ease.

  17

  The throbbing pain behind Andrew’s eyes became more pronounced as the charity ball continued. Liz was positively feeding off the envious glances shot her way by the other ladies in the room. And although her voice wasn’t vulgarly loud, it was penetrating and incessant. The evening had been one long nightmare. When they’d arrived, Liz had relished having her picture taken with him, and she made sure to clutch his arm in a possessive way whenever he was standing next to her. In actual fact, she did more than just clutch his arm—she kept wriggling close and brushing up against him. Her forwardness was disturbing. He’d hoped that sitting down would quash things, but she seemed determine to play footsie beneath the table. He’d sat through dinner with his long legs curled uncomfortably beneath his chair.

  “I don’t agree,” Liz said emphatically.

  Breathing through the pain of his headache, Andrew tried to remember what they were discussing. They’d covered a wide range of topics—at least, Liz had. Whenever he spoke, she pointed out why his opinion was wrong. She seemed to believe that the way to attract his attention was to offer counter arguments to everything he said. He supposed she was trying to appear thoughtful and independent, but it sure wasn’t coming off that way to him. He didn’t want a woman to be a brainless shadow agreeing with his every word, but Liz was taking things too far the other way. He didn’t think she was actually expressing her true opinions. She was just standing opposite of every one of his. Talking with her was like staging a hard-pitched battle fought with words and punctuation marks.

  As Liz droned on, he watched the dancers whirling by his table. His attention focused on a beautiful woman dancing with Zeke’s friend, Marc. Something about the woman seemed vaguely familiar. He blinked rapidly when he realized the lovely lady was Crystal Stuart, TEMCO’s shy computer tech. Crystal was a nice woman, and he decided to try and dance with her later, but the more he watched, the more he realized he’d never get the chance. Marc was acting extremely possessive.

  “Giving new computers to inner city schools is a waste of money,” Liz said, interrupting his thoughts. “After all, children from affluent neighborhoods have a greater chance of contributing to society.”

  Andrew’s headache grew at her sickening, prejudicial words. Making sure every child had a good education was important to him. He’d been touring public schools and some of the brightest students he’d met had been from poorer neighborhoods. He could poke holes into Liz’s argument a thousand ways, but it wouldn’t matter. She didn’t care about the facts. She just wanted to rile him into a debate. He was beginning to realize that arguing was her way of flirting, and it turned his stomach. By her choice of topics, she was essentially using the misfortune of others as a way of grabbing attention for herself. He wasn’t about to participate in something so despicable.

  When he didn’t respond, she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “What do you think?” she purred.

  A flashbulb popped. Liz smiled smugly.

  Andrew shook off her hand. Feeling extremely aware of the cameras pointed at his table, he tried to keep his face expressionless. The headlines would be brutal if he was seen arguing with his date. Liz bent forward, deliberately providing him with a view down the front of her dress. Astonished at her vulgarity, he looked away. He was sick of dodging her, and he was sick of talking with her. He needed a polite way to get some space between them before his head exploded.

  Her droning voice continued. “Children from the ghetto would vandalize any new computers their schools received—”

  Tuning her out, Andrew looked at the dancers. Watching them gave him an idea. If he could get Liz dancing, maybe some other fellow would take her off his hands for a while.

  Cutting her off midsentence, Andrew rose slightly in his chair. “Would you like to dance?”

  Shaking her head, Liz bent forward again, flashing him another view. “I’d rather talk.”

  Closing his eyes, Andrew sank back in his chair. His headache intensified.

  ~*~

  Scanning the room for possible threats, Agent Ruthford stood at attention just a few feet from the vice president’s table. He could tell from the “polite” expression on Andrew Hamilton’s face that he wasn’t having a good time. He’d learned from experience that the more controlled the VP’s face became—the more extreme his emotions.

  Swirling dancers glided past on the dance floor, temporarily grabbing his attention. His eyebrows rose as he recognized Crystal Stuart in a stunning, black dress. He hadn’t envisioned Miss Stuart as being an attractive woman—he would need to reassess his opinion.

  He continued to gaze around the room, searching for threats. He looked back at the vice president. If possible, his face appeared even more distant and polite. Liz Anderson was obviously failing spectacularly in her attempt to capture the VP’s attention.

  Movement from the doorway caught his eye. Agent Grant was approaching his position.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” Agent Grant murmured. “But there’s a situation.”

  “Where?” Ruthford demanded quietly. “In the building or the parking lot?”

  “Neither, sir,” Grant replied. “It’s at your home.”

  Ruthford raised a brow. “Explain.”

  “Your house is on fire, sir.”

  Ruthford’s jaw clenched. “Thanks for letting me know. Please return to your post.”

  Agent Grant blinked. “I can take over for you, if you’d like to—”

  “I’m not leaving while the vice president is exposed.” Ruthford’s eyes continued scanning the room. “I assume the fire department has been called?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then there isn’t anything I could do. Thanks for relaying the message, but my place is here.”

  ~*~

  Standing in front of Rome’s beautiful Trevi Fountain, Angelina prepared to make a wish. The fountain’s massive statues were impressive, especially the central statue of Oceanus, and the sound of rushing water was invigorating. If any fountain granted wishes, this would be the one. She wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. She knew exactly what she wanted.

  “Ready?” Karl asked, holding his camera poised.

  She nodded. Knowing the legend, she turned her back to the fountain and threw three coins with her right hand over her left shoulder to ensure good luck.

  Karl snapped her picture. “What’d you wish for?” he asked.

  “Not telling,” she replied cheekily.

  Digging two coins from his pocket, Karl handed her the camera. “Hold this for me, will you? I have a wish that I want to come true too.”

  As he tossed two coins into the fountain, she snapped a picture of him and asked, “What does tossing two coins mean?”

  He gave her cheeky grin that rivaled her own. “Not telling.”

  ~*~

  The more Marc danced with Crystal, the more fun he had. She was a wonderful partner who was following his lead with ease. The more they danced, the more intricate their moves became. Occasionally, other men tried to claim her, but he glared at them and sent them scuttling. He wanted to make it extremely apparent that the prettiest woman on the dance floor was also the most unavailable.

  At the end of one song, Marc lowered Crystal into a deep dip. The slit of her dress fell open, revealing her shapely legs. She smiled at him, raising a hand to his cheek. Swallowing hard, Marc studied the long, slender line of her throat. Crystal was truly the most beautiful woman he’d ever held in his arms. Feeling a bit thunderstruck, he raised her gently to her feet.

  Her eyes were glowing as she said happily, “That was fun. We make a good team.”

  Marc nodded, but he was beginning to realize that he needed to take a break and put some distance between them. Crystal was extremely lovely, and as a man, he wanted nothing more th
an to crush her into a tight embrace, but as a Christian man, he knew that he needed to get a little space and regain his balance. As he was about to suggest they take a break, the orchestra began playing the next number.

  Crystal gave a tiny squeal. “They’re playing Bronislaw Kaper’s ‘Ballroom Waltz.’ The one Grace Kelly danced with the professor. The one I practiced over and over.”

  Marc swallowed hard. Crystal was positively sparkling with delight, but he knew he needed to sit the dance out. As if on cue, a man came up and asked Crystal to dance. Marc knew he should step aside. His eyes narrowed. Suddenly, he felt ferocious.

  Why should I stop dancing? he thought. There’s no way I’m turning Cris over to another man during such a special waltz.

  Marc glared at the man, and as the man moved away, he took Crystal back into his arms. Twirling to the beautiful strains of Kaper’s ”Ballroom Waltz,” Marc promised himself that he’d keep a decent amount of space between them, but for some reason, after each twirl and spin, Crystal seemed closer. He had no idea if she was closing the space or if he was unconsciously drawing her to him, but all too soon, the space he’d been trying to protect had all but vanished.

  Crystal had her eyes closed. She was humming lightly with a smile on her face. Looking at her, Marc knew Zeke was right. Crystal was innocent. She had no idea what her beauty and nearness were doing to him. He heard warning bells ringing inside his head. He knew he needed to stop dancing.

  Crystal came even closer. The last inch of space between them closed. The warning bells were blaring in his ears, and as Marc twirled toward their table, he heard a distinct voice. The voice was soft, and it wasn’t audible, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was hearing the Lord.

  “Stop dancing. Sit down.”

  Marc paused for a fraction of a second. Crystal opened her eyes and smiled at him. Her brown eyes were shining in a lovely way, and her red lips were slightly parted. Marc felt an electric jolt searing through his body. Deliberately, he turned away from their table and kept twirling around the floor.