by A Rosendale
“I wish I hadn’t missed the season,” he said quietly, whisking her around the floor as if no one else were there.
“Yeah. November’s a little brisk.”
For the first time since embarking three months previous, he regretted the excursion. He sighed and she felt a modicum of energy leach from his lively step. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s your job. You don’t have to be sorry.” She echoed his sigh. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I just wish…”
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“I wish I knew when you’d be home. I would have invited you, but…”
“I wish I knew when I’d be home, too. It wasn’t until late last night I knew I was headed home. I understand why you brought Mark. And I actually appreciate his company.”
“You don’t think I would be fine on my own?” she challenged.
His steps fully faltered this time and he pulled her to the side of the dance floor. “Alma, I have the utmost confidence in you. I was surprised to find Mark, or anyone, here with you.”
“Me, too,” she said, her face screwed up in consternation. “My friends wouldn’t let me out of Boston without an ‘escort.’”
Dirk laughed. “They don’t know you very well, then! From what I hear, you deliver an award winning groin kick.”
The remainder of Alma’s reserve collapsed at his humor and she leaned forward to kiss him. As she pulled away, his arms enveloped her and they skipped back onto the dance floor.
While they waltzed, Mark waved from the edge of the crowd, motioned to the stunning woman at his side, and threw a thumb over his shoulder. Alma nodded her understanding while she laughed. Dirk must have observed the exchange; his deep chuckle resonated in Alma’s chest like the low beat of a bass drum. She pressed herself even closer to him. When the music slowed, she allowed her cheek to rest against his jacket. The frustration at his sudden appearance faded entirely. Eyes closed, she swayed against him.
“You must be tired,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine the stress of speaking at one of the world’s leading scientific institutes.”
“When you put it that way…” She nodded against his chest. “But you’re right. I think I’ve put in my obligatory conversations for the night. Do you want to stay at the hotel with me?”
Dirk nodded, allowed himself a deep breath of her lavender-scented hair, and released her from his embrace. After a brief goodbye and thank you to Ahmed, she met Dirk at the door. They threaded the pillars and descended the front steps hand-in-hand.
“Shoot!” Alma exclaimed as they reached the sidewalk. “I forgot my coat. I’ll be right back.” She spun and hurried back up the steps.
Dirk leaned against the railing to wait. Jetlag was catching up with him; the dazzling lights of the capital swam in his tired vision and his mind wandered. The cigar he’d smoked last week in Senegal would have tasted brilliant right now in the chilly November air. It wasn’t for several minutes that Dirk realized Alma hadn’t returned. Supposing she’d been waylaid by a conversation, he started back up the stairs.
“Where’s that pretty boy now, huh?” The voice came from behind a column.
“Leave me alone! You’re drunk!” The distinct tone of Alma’s exclamation sent an instant shot of adrenaline through Dirk’s veins.
He rounded the pillar to find Alma pressed back against the marble, surrounded by four men in tuxedos.
“You’re being rude, Professor! We extended a very gentlemanly invitation,” one of the men said.
“And you can’t even spare a moment to share a drink with us,” his neighbor added.
“It’s not fair,” another man pouted. He stepped closer and reached out to touch her face. Alma glared and flinched away, but he snatched her by the upper arm in a vice grip and ran a rough, sweaty hand over her cheek.
The familiar gesture committed by someone other than Dirk made Alma’s stomach lurch. Dirk saw through an unfamiliar red haze.
“Get your hands off of her,” he growled.
The man let go more out of surprise at the sudden appearance than to acquiesce.
“Here’s the pretty boy now.”
“Hey, man, what’s the deal, anyway? You show up late and then steal the hot professor’s attentions!”
“What makes you think I would have paid any attention to you drunk assholes anyway?”
Alma’s angry retort reassured Dirk; she had an uncommonly calm demeanor. But the comment rallied the thugs to match her anger.
“You bitch!” The man reached for her arm again.
“Don’t,” Dirk said, his voice so low it sounded like rumbling thunder.
The man glared and snapped a hand out regardless while his friends turned to face the stranger.
The encounter lasted only a few minutes. The drunk men were sprawled on the concrete. Although Dirk itched to threaten him within an inch of his life, he refrained and dealt the jerk with his hand on Alma a bone-crunching punch to the face. He joined his friends moaning on the ground, clinging to consciousness. Dirk gripped Alma’s clammy hand and they ran down the stairs and tumbled into a cab.
Neither of them spoke on the ride. Dirk placed a protective arm around her shoulders and grasped one of her hands as if letting go would find them back outside the Smithsonian, surrounded by drunk, contentious men. Her constant shivering disconcerted him. He knew she was the toughest woman he’d ever met, but the encounter would certainly have a bleak fallout. He was still vibrating with adrenaline and rage.
Alma led the way to her hotel room. Dirk couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of the Canopy. Glass windows lined one wall and portrayed a breathtaking view of the Potomac and D.C. Alma shook off his touch once they were inside and silently entered and closed the bathroom door.
Frowning with concern, Dirk shed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before discarding the necktie. Flowing water sounded from the shower. He called room service to order a bottle of merlot. By the time the water ceased, two glasses of wine adorned the suite’s coffee table.
Alma appeared wrapped in a hotel provided robe. Folding herself into an armchair, she accepted the proffered wine and stared out the window. Her fingers played idly with the sapphire pendant resting against her collarbone. The latent action almost brought a smile to Dirk’s lips. He was pleased to see his birthday gift had accompanied her.
He sat on the nearby couch, one ankle crossed over the other and an arm propped on the back of the cushions. While she stared at the city lights, he stared at her. In this light, he noticed the adorable freckles saddling her tanned nose. A wave of protective emotion washed over him and all he wanted was to gather her in his arms and enclose her, sheltering her from the world. But something about the hard set to her jaw and the cold glint in her stormy eyes told him she wasn’t ready to be coddled. So he sipped his wine, watching.
“You’re not hurt, are you?”
The quiet question asked with such enmity startled her out of her solitary thoughts. “No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, tone softening.
A shake of the head answered the question.
Dirk frowned.
“What assholes!” she suddenly exclaimed.
He felt a surprising rush of relief.
“And what was that?” She waved a hand at him.
“What?”
“You took out all four of those guys without even breathing hard.” She suddenly recalled the hit to the face he’d suffered in her defense. “Are you alright?”
He waved away her concern with a disarming grin. “Turns out drunk guys don’t pack much of a punch. Are you alright?”
She shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
Her confidence surprised him. He sighed and placed both feet on the floor. Leaning forward, he put both elbows on his knees and stared intently at her. “I was terrified,” he admitted honestly.
“You handled them very well.”
“No. They didn’t terrify me. Their inte
ntions terrified me and that bastard…” Rage rose in his throat. “He deserved worse than he got.”
The passion in his voice warmed Alma. “I’m glad you were there.”
“Me, too.”
In an uncharacteristic wave of sentiment, she set aside the wine and crawled onto his lap, where he encircled her in his arms, drawing her as close as possible.
“I love you,” he said softly.
“I love you, too.” Her heartbeat finally leveled out and her skin stopped crawling from the offensive encounter. The warm embrace enfolded her in security and she started to close her eyes. But a vision of her attacker gripping her arm made her flinch and sit up.
She let out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never live this down,” she muttered, reclaiming the wine glass.
Dirk kept an arm around her shoulders, loath to release her from his protective touch. “Why’s that?”
“Everyone in Boston insisted I bring Mark with me and I argued vehemently. Now they’ll never let me out of sight,” she joked.
“No one else needs to know. I mean, if you don’t want them to.”
She pondered that while sipping the wine. “You’re right. And you won’t tell them?”
He laughed. “Why would I?” After a moment, he observed, “You are handling this situation pretty well, considering what you went through and the ‘what ifs’ that have to be circling your mind.”
Alma frowned and turned her gaze back to the city. A faraway stare clouded her gray eyes and Dirk regretted his words.
“I wish I could say it was the first time something like this has happened.” Even her voice sounded far away. In fact, she was dwelling on events an entire coast away and years in the past.
Dirk felt his chest tighten at the possible scenarios she might describe. The fury that filled him at the man’s advances tonight had sent him to a place he’d never been before, raging fury had filled his body, clouding his vision and wrenching his heart.
“I was walking home from campus late one night during my graduate studies. Everyone else had left hours before, but there was an experiment I wanted to wrap up. It’s really my fault. I should have been more vigilant.” She shook her head with anger. “This guy followed me for a few blocks. I didn’t think anything of it until he got closer and grabbed me.”
“Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to,” Dirk begged in a tight voice. Every muscle in his body was taut with anticipation.
“No, no. It wasn’t that bad. He tried, but I fought back. The worst I got was a black eye. I managed to deliver my famous knee-to-the-groin technique and get away.”
“What a horrifying experience!”
“And then there was another time on the Alaska exhibition a few years ago that one of my fellow scientists got a little too snockered and was waiting in my cabin. I was so startled, I didn’t react fast enough. The struggle was loud enough to draw the crew’s attention and they came running. Once he sobered up, they kicked him off the boat to catch a flight home.”
“But he didn’t…”
“No. I’ve been lucky, I guess. Except for the magnetic pull I have on creepy men, I’ve always managed to get away.” She blinked and turned to face him. “Although, I don’t think I could have taken on four of them. Seriously, how did you do that?”
Dirk shrugged offhandedly. “Probably just adrenaline.”
She frowned suspiciously. “You’re a computer programmer. Computer programmers shouldn’t know how to knock out a gang of ill-intentioned jerks.”
“I boxed in college,” he covered. It wasn’t a lie necessarily.
“Really?”
“Yep. I did all right. I’m no champion.”
“You must have been more than ‘all right’. You still have all your teeth.”
He laughed. Her humor reassured him of her mental fortitude. “True!” As an abrupt segue, he asked, “How long do you have the hotel room?”
“Through tomorrow night.”
“What are your plans for tomorrow?”
“I have a meeting with Ahmed, the curator that arranged the orca exhibit, at nine o’clock, but otherwise, nothing.”
“What do you say we take an historical tour? I haven’t visited the Lincoln Monument in a few years.”
“I’ve never been.”
“You’re kidding! You’ve really never been to D.C.?”
She shook her head.
“Well, have I got a marvelous day planned for you! Full of facts and stories!”
His sudden excitement made her smile. “I look forward to it.” She stifled a yawn.
Dirk held out his hand. Alma accepted the invitation and followed him to bed. She remained wrapped in the bathrobe and crawled between the covers. Dirk curled around her, draping a protective arm over her. Despite jetlag and over thirty-six hours of constant action, he lay awake, inhaling her scent and reliving the evening. When he’d landed in Boston, he’d been set on breaking up with Alma using her safety as an excuse. Now he felt like he’d never be able to let her go, claiming his protection as integral to her safety.
‘She’s a tough lady,’ he thought to himself, not for the first time. ‘Maybe she would be okay.’ Finally, the tumult of conflicting thoughts faded to slumber.
Chapter 22
Despite the long flight and longer week, Dirk felt great. His assignment had gone well, except for one minor hitch, and concluded successfully. And to top it off, he’d spent a week in the rainforest, one of his favorite habitats. The text he’d sent advised of his imminent return. Alma was waiting at security, bundled in a heavy coat and scarf. Winter had finally arrived in Boston. Dirk swept her into a welcoming squeeze and kissed her lips passionately.
“I love you. And I missed you!” he greeted. The words came easily now and every utterance made his heart flutter.
Alma’s reply was a wide smile and another kiss on the lips.
She drove the Jeep back to his apartment.
“I’m getting used this,” he said as he held her hand.
“What’s that?”
“This chauffeur service. Finding a beautiful woman waiting at the airport. I feel like I’m being spoiled.”
“Wait until you see what’s at home,” she uttered cryptically. Her sly smile added to the sense of elation built up over the week and he looked forward more to her company than any surprise she’d cooked up.
“Yum!” he declared upon seeing the seasoned steaks in the fridge, ready to be placed in the oven and a dining table adorned with white tablecloth, candles, and decanter of red wine. The apartment, which he’d chosen for its cool seclusion, felt uncharacteristically warm and full. He found he quite enjoyed the change.
“Are you ready for dinner?” She was turned away hanging her coat and didn’t see the hungry glint in his green eyes. He was immediately behind her when she turned around and placed his hands on her hips. He captured her lips with a famished kiss.
* * *
Alma propped herself up on an elbow to gaze down at Dirk. She wore a broad, satisfied smile. “Jetlag works wonders on you,” she teased, running a light finger over his ribcage. She dismissed the tiny red dot on his side as a bug bite.
His grin mirrored hers. He laid back, hands behind his head and relished her gentle touch.
“Now that we’ve sated one of your desires, are you ready for your other love?”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “Steak? Yeah, I think steak comes second only to you.”
Sudden exhaustion washed over him as he sat up. He placed a hand on the headboard to steady himself. With a shake of the head, the feeling lifted slightly and he dismissed it as jetlag. Redressing, he followed Alma to the kitchen.
He hardly touched the wine and managed only a half of a T-bone before the sensation returned.
“Are you alright?”
He rubbed his temples and blinked hard to focus. “Yeah. Just over-tired I guess.” The effort of finishing the meal seemed monumental and he slouched back in his chair.
> Alma studied him in concern. He seemed to have a hard time focusing his eyes, but otherwise looked okay. She continued eating and describing a recent article she’d read. When she was done, she started carrying dishes to the sink. A crash startled her. Dirk was leaning against the threshold, eyes squeezed tight, and his plate shattered on the tile floor.
“Dirk! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I think I’m just…just tired. I’m sorry.” His usually even, strong tone was muffled and halting.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She touched his arm and he met her gaze, but the green eyes were dull and unfocused.
“Yeah. I’ll clean this up.”
“I’ve got it. Why don’t you go to bed?”
With a vague nod, he shuffled to the bedroom.
Alma stared after him a moment before stooping to sweep up plate shards. When she went to bed an hour later, Dirk was muttering discontentedly in his sleep. Chalking his strange behavior up to long hours and travel, she crawled in beside him and fell asleep.
* * *
Ragged panting and wild kicking woke her. She clicked on the bedside lamp and light flooded the room. Dirk was moving violently, tossing his head from side to side, mumbling and breathing erratically.
“Dirk!” Alma shook his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. Fear pumped in her veins.
His skin, typically so warm, was now cold and clammy. Cold sweat soaked his pillow and hair.
“Dirk! Wake up!”
His eyes fluttered and the jerking movements ceased. “Alma.” The name was uttered weakly.
“I’m calling 911,” she declared, reaching for her cellphone.
In a moment of sudden clarity and brute strength, Dirk reached out to clutch her wrist. The painful grasp made Alma wince.
“Not 911,” he muttered and released her. His back arched in an abrupt spasm.
Alma gulped in fear. “I have to, Dirk. Something’s wrong!”
The spasm left him panting painfully. “No. Christian. Call Christian.” He started to reach for the phone on his nightstand, but the hand fell limply off the side of the bed.
Heart thundering, she rounded the bed and swept up Dirk’s phone. She silently prayed he didn’t have a passcode, a prayer that was apparently heard, and searched frantically through the contacts.