“You’re easily persuaded,” he said, squinting to read the door numbers in the poorly lit hallway.
“You’re such a cynic. I thought he was nice.”
“A bit too nice, I think.”
“Come on, newlyweds always get special treatment,” she said. “Ah. Here we are. Room Thirty-four.”
Simon set the suitcase down and unlocked the door. He pushed it open and gestured for Elizabeth to go first.
“Aren’t you going to carry the bride over the threshold?” she teased.
She was impudent and absolutely charming. “Miss—”
“Elizabeth. You know, you haven’t said it once.”
Simon took a deep breath. “Elizabeth.”
She blushed a little and grinned. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
What could he say? Yes, it was. That saying it meant he’d crossed some invisible line he’d drawn for himself? That the mere thought of her name made his stomach drop with desire? That the way it fell across his lips felt like a prayer he wasn’t worthy of?
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
“Good,” she said with a smile and took a step into the apartment. The room was dark, and she felt along the wall for a light switch. She found it quickly and turned it on.
Simon picked up the case and followed behind. She stopped a few feet inside the door. He was about to ask what was wrong, when he saw it for himself.
The bed. There was one bed. One tiny, little double bed, for them both to share.
Chapter Five
Elizabeth could feel Simon’s presence behind her. When she’d pulled up short, he’d practically run into her and now they were standing so close, they were almost touching. Touching. The bed. Those two thoughts definitely needed to be separated. She tore herself away from staring at the small bed and walked over to the window.
The room was musty and could use some fresh air. And so could she. “Is it me or is it hot in here?” she asked, and then yanked open the drapes.
Simon cleared his throat and set the suitcase down. “Yes, it is rather warm.”
She tried to jimmy the window open, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”
“Let me,” Simon said from close behind her. Too close behind her.
She turned around, and they were almost touching again. She smiled nervously and side-stepped out of his way. “I’ll unpack,” she said, desperate for something to do.
For all her bravado about making this an adventure, she hadn’t considered this part of it. Alone in a bedroom with Simon Cross.
She was generally comfortable around men. Working with them, playing with them, but never simply being with them. She’d grown up surrounded by men. Her mother had left her and her father when she was too young to remember. It had been just the two of them, so she tagged along wherever he went. And he went a lot of places. Not the typical American childhood, growing up in backrooms and pool halls in towns all across Texas, but she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. She’d learned an awful lot about people. How to read someone’s face when they’d drawn an inside straight. How a man’s hands told his life story. Or how the truth was easier to keep track of than a lie. But, even in all that, she hadn’t learned much about being a woman.
She’d had relationships, but somehow there was always something eluding her, like there was a secret handshake she didn’t know. Each time a man asked her out she was surprised, flattered and a little frightened. Inevitably, her insecurities brought things to a premature end. Not that she’d been heartbroken over any of them. They were good men, most of them, but none of them had managed to force her heart to overrule her head.
“Bloody piece of...” Simon grumbled and took off his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair.
She opened the suitcase and put their old clothes away in the small dresser and armoire that served as a closet. It was a silly thing to do really. She didn’t expect to be staying. But, she’d lived in hotels most of her life and the first thing she always did was unpack. It made the room hers instead of yet another place to stay.
Simon rolled up his sleeves and hit the wooden window frame with his fist. After a few more good bangs, the window finally opened. A breeze blew into the room, but the night air wasn’t much cooler than the hotbox of their apartment.
He turned around triumphantly, and she offered him a smile.
“Here we are,” she said.
Simon stared back, and the awkwardness hovered between them. They’d spent hour after hour in closer quarters than this, but then again, the office didn’t have a bed in the middle of it.
“Yes, well,” he said and sat down in one of the two chairs that accompanied the small, round table near the window. He took out his grandfather’s watch and carefully opened it.
Elizabeth knew Simon worked best uninterrupted and tried to find something to occupy herself. She looked around the small apartment anxious to find anything of interest. The walls were an indistinct beige and the rug a darker shade of indistinct beige, stained and tattered at the edges. She could see the ghost of earlier wallpaper, some sort of dizzying stripe hidden beneath the hastily applied paint. The room itself was no more than ten by twelve. The ceiling light, a thin brass tube jutting straight down to a chipped smoked glass shade, hung down too low.
She made her way to the bathroom and nearly bumped into the sink when she opened the door. The fixtures were dull and rusted. The faucet arched high over the basin like a drooping branch, its constant drip leaving a dark yellow stain on the porcelain. The paint was bubbled and peeling.
There wasn’t a showerhead, but she supposed she should be thankful they had a bathroom at all. It sure beat long walks down the hall in the middle of the night to a community bath. The bathtub was old, and she noticed a series of deep scratches gouged into the tub. What the heck could have made those? Maybe some bathtub gin, she thought with an odd thrill. Or a gangster shoot out, bullets ricocheting from a mob hit. Or not.
She looked at her reflection in the streaked mirror. Same old Elizabeth West. Hair out of place and eyes too big for her face. She shook her head. Didn’t matter if she sprouted wings. Simon wouldn’t notice the difference.
She went back into the bedroom and Simon was still hunched over the watch, completely oblivious to her. Some things never change. And on that depressing note, she busied herself with looking around the room again.
The furniture was plain, but practical. The bedside lampshade was crooked. She tried to straighten it, but like everything else in the apartment it did what it wanted and apparently it wanted to be crooked. She’d stayed in worse places, but those had been with her father. Being with Simon was an entirely different story.
A splash of red caught her eye. The only decoration in the room was a god-awful painting of a barn over the bed. The bed. She’d managed to ignore it for all of two minutes. Time for a little more ignoring.
“So,” she said too brightly. “You got it figured out yet?” She thought she saw Simon smirk. She walked over to the table and looked over his shoulder.
“Incredible workmanship,” Simon said. “These dials control the time—century, decade, year, month, day. Down to the very minute. Fascinating.”
Elizabeth pointed to the thin bands that ringed the face. She leaned in closer and rested her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and willfully ignored the feeling of his muscles beneath her fingers. “And those must be directional coordinates. Longitude and latitude.”
He cleared his throat. “Exactly.”
“Then shouldn’t you be able to set it for the time and place we left? And voilà. Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.”
“Or it could have a built-in homing device. Automatically returning the person to the point at which they left.”
“What makes you think that?” she said and took a chair.
“I can’t seem to change the dials anymore. They appear to be locked in place.”
“Well, then let’s hope it’s got an auto-return
feature.”
Time travel was fun and all, but deep down she’d always believed Simon could control the watch without any trouble. The small room got a little bit smaller.
He tried varying the extension of the stem, but the dials remained fixed. “I wish I knew how it was activated in the first place.”
“We could just recreate exactly what we did before.”
Simon looked up from the watch and gazed at her intently. She needed to understand the seriousness of the situation. “It could be dangerous.”
“Nothing ventured...” she said.
A smile tugged at his lips. Her confidence and bravery shouldn’t have been surprising. She’d met each obstacle they’d encountered so far with enthusiasm and a very appealing sense of adventure. She really was quite bewitching. Abruptly, his smile faded. He had to stop doing that. Every time he looked at her his thoughts drifted to foolish schoolboy notions. Now was not the time. “Right, exactly as we were then.”
Elizabeth stood and moved next to his chair, putting her hand back on his shoulder. “You were sitting, and I was looking over your shoulder. What did you do next?”
Simon pretended not to notice she was touching him, that the simple gesture made his heart beat a little faster. “That’s the problem. I didn’t do anything. The watch simply...started.”
“You must have done something. Did you close the case?”
“No, I remember watching the moon phases as it—”
“The eclipse!” Elizabeth said excitedly. “Remember, we had a lunar eclipse and that little black disc slid over the full moon.” The excitement ebbed from her voice. “You don’t think we need an eclipse to make this thing work, do you?”
The moon displayed now was barely half full, and there was no sign of the small disc. He wasn’t surprised she’d come to the same conclusions he had. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her when she first started working for him.
“It’s not uncommon for astrological phenomena to play a critical role in the supernatural.” The words were spoken by rote. He’d probably said the same thing in his class dozens of times, but he’d never considered what that really meant.
“So we have to wait for an eclipse?”
“Possibly.”
His mind was racing now. Memories of conversations with his grandfather sped across his thoughts. Grandfather had always been obsessed with the phases of the moon. Simon had never paid it much heed. Sebastian Cross had been obsessed with many things.
Elizabeth started to pace. “I wonder how long we have to wait.”
“A few days. A few months. A year.”
“A year?”
“We’ll have to research that tomorrow. There is another possibility. The watch could have broken when we landed, and we will never be able to return.”
“You must be fun at parties,” Elizabeth mumbled. She shook her head and pushed out a deep breath. “For now, I’m going to believe it’s set on auto-return.”
“Believing it doesn’t make it so,” he said matter-of-factly and went back to studying the watch.
“Sometimes believing something is all you have,” Elizabeth snapped. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”
“Miss... Elizabeth,” Simon said, alarmed at her abrupt change in tone. “I didn’t mean...”
Ignoring the worst was only an invitation to bringing it to bear. He couldn’t let himself simply believe in things. He had to prove them first. It was the only way to avoid disappointment. It was a philosophy he’d lived by and it had never failed him. Until now. Part of him wanted to share her faith, but it meant offering far too much of himself.
Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” She ran her hand through her hair and heaved a heavy sigh. “You’re right. We have to be prepared for that possibility.”
She looked suddenly very tired. Dark smudges hung below her eyes. Clearly, the day had taken a greater toll on her than he’d thought. Despite wanting to keep analyzing the watch, he closed it. “All of that can wait until tomorrow though.”
“Right. Tomorrow,” she said resignedly. “So, what side do you want?”
“Side?”
“Of the bed.”
“Oh, I...” Simon said. “I’ll sleep in the chair.”
“For who knows how long? Don’t be silly.”
“I think...” he stammered and tugged at the collar of is shirt. “I think it’s best.”
“We’re both adults,” she said and then smiled wickedly. “I won’t compromise your virtue.”
Simon was so pleased to see her spirit back, he forgot himself and returned her smile. “Is that a promise?”
“I believe it is,” she said.
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, but the playful exchange melted into something more. Before the tension became too much, Simon looked away.
“I’m going to get washed up,” Elizabeth said and ducked into the bathroom.
Simon heard the door click shut and slumped down into his chair. She had to be part siren. What a wonderful idea. A little sexual repartee before sharing a bed with a woman you can’t have. Bloody brilliant.
He spent the next few minutes reminding himself of why he’d put the barriers between them in the first place. Loving someone was a risk he couldn’t afford. He’d spent too many years trying to close wounds that wouldn’t heal to open a fresh one now. No, his life was fine the way it was. Distance meant control. And now, more than ever, he needed both. Feeling more himself, he turned calmly when she called out from behind the partially opened door that she was getting in to bed.
So much for calm. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. She stepped tentatively into the room, tugging her tiny T-shirt down over her navel. Simon turned quickly away, but it was too late. The image of her wearing only the small shirt and panties was burned into his memory. Not to mention the fact he could see her reflection quite clearly in the window.
She slid under the covers and pulled them up to her chin. “S’okay. You can turn around now.”
Simon stood awkwardly on the far side of the room. This was impossible. He looked nervously around the room and noticed the light switch near the door. “Do you mind if I shut the light now?”
“Sure.”
Simon turned off the light, but instead of feeling relieved, he felt strangely more on edge. The darkness only heightened the sense of intimacy. The rustle of the covers as Elizabeth moved in the bed brought images to his mind the darkness couldn’t hide. He walked back over to the table and began to undress.
His fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. He hadn’t been this nervous undressing since Eton. But he’d been a boy then, losing his virginity in the blink of an eye with a girl he couldn’t even remember. Now he was a man. A man who had to spend the night lying chastely next to a woman he desired more than any he’d ever met.
He really had to curtail that train of thought before he embarrassed them both. Latin. Consummate—Conjugate verbs. Abstenero, absteneras, abstenerat...
Finally, when he’d finished undressing, he slipped under the covers and tried not to feel the heat of her body next to his.
A soft moan escaped her lips in the darkness. He lifted himself up on his elbow. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said and swallowed. “It’s all just a little overwhelming.”
“We’ll be fine,” he said in a voice far too husky to be reassuring.
“You don’t snore, do you?”
He could see the vague outline of her face as she moved onto her side. The soft curves of her smile shone through the darkness.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
She laughed and let her head rest on the pillow. “Goodnight, Simon.”
“Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
She rolled away from him, and he let out a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Sleep was a long time in coming. As th
e night dragged on, he found himself watching her. It was soothing and comforting in ways he didn’t dare explore. He listened to her slow breaths and watched over her until sleep finally claimed him. It was a ritual he would repeat every night they were together.
Chapter Six
Elizabeth rolled onto her back and lingered in that foggy place right on the edge of sleep. She wanted to slip back into the haze, but something felt wrong, and slowly she started to wake. She stretched her legs and pushed the covers down to her waist. She blinked a few times, but her eyes didn’t seem to focus properly. She squinched them shut and then tried again. It wasn’t her eyesight, she realized; it was the room. This wasn’t her apartment.
Then, the bed moved.
She gasped and carefully looked to her left. A man’s back. Simon. New York. Time travel. For a moment she’d thought it had all been a dream. Moving through time to a strange place. Stuff like that didn’t happen. Except in dreams. In some bizarre Nyquil hallucination with images coated in thick green syrup.
But it was real, she reminded herself, feeling the thin sheet in her hands and the lumpy mattress at her back. Very real. She was back in time. With Simon.
As if on cue, he moaned in his sleep and rolled toward her. She held her breath, afraid to move. She didn’t want to watch him—it felt too peeping-tomish—but she couldn’t help it. He looked younger, happier. His mouth was caught in a gentle smile; whatever he was dreaming about he seemed to be enjoying it. She realized with a pang of sadness that she’d never seen him so relaxed and content. He was always a little on edge, as if prepared for some unseen foe. A part of him always seemed to be struggling, always on guard. It must be an exhausting way to live. With all they had to face now, Simon was sure to carry an even heavier burden than usual. It would be just like him to fall into a brooding mode and push her away.
There had to be something she could do about that. Lying there in the early morning, she made a pact with herself. She would do whatever she could to ease his load. She’d put on her bravest face and swallow her insecurities. He had enough to worry about without adding her into the mix.
Out of Time Series Omnibus (Out of Time: A Paranormal Romance & When the Walls Fell) Page 5