Allegra's Shadow

by Dana Sanders Hill

  When she reached her bedroom, she glanced at the clock. It was 2:19 a.m.

  With a weary breath, Beth headed back to bed. Just as she found a comfortable position, the Great Dane mix started barking, then the Chow Chow and the Weimaraner chimed in. Her eyes shot open with aggravation. Usually, she could ignore them because she had developed a deaf ear to their barks, howls, and yips over time, and she was a deep sleeper. But not this morning. Beth tossed the light sheet aside, strode the window seat and pushed aside the blinds. When it was daytime, she could see a little of Allegra’s backyard from here, but it was too dark to see much now.

  The dogs were making a fuss over a possum, a skunk or a stray cat, she told herself. Maybe even a deer.

  Beth went back to bed and closed her eyes. Soon, she would be too tired to hear anything.

  #

  Fury closed the deck door and shut off the alarm next to it.

  Stupid dogs.

  A deep breath. Then another.

  At least the house was empty.

  Fury ascended the stairs, intent on reclaiming what didn’t belong here.

  The engraved bracelet.

  Allegra didn’t deserve it anymore, even if death. Once someone treats a person like garbage, they no longer deserved gifts.

  Fury would sneak in here a hundred times more, if that’s what it took to find that bracelet.

  #

  Later that morning, Mariah eyes opened up earlier than expected. Shifting a little in the bed, she rolled onto her side, willing herself to go back to sleep. She snuck a peek at the digital clock and its red numbers, which indicated that thirty minutes had passed, and concluded that lying in bed was fruitless.

  Mariah threw back the hunter green blanket and got up, planting her feet on the carpet. She raised her arms and stretched, naked, then heaved a sigh. Until Anthony came along, she hadn’t slept naked since she was a child. She wore a long T-shirt to bed. Now the sensation of something against her skin while she slept felt alien to her.

  Mariah picked up the navy blue robe that lay across the foot of her bed and meandered to the window, pushing aside the drapes and raising the blinds. Her room faced the street and the huge tree that grew in front of it. When she left Terry, Mariah moved back home with the intention of finding her own place as a single woman again. Now she was thirty-four and still had yet to move out, not because she couldn’t afford to; it was just comforting to remain here. Besides, there was nothing special about living alone.

  Mariah heard the roar of an engine before she saw a white sport car jet by. Mariah opened the window to let in the breeze, then looked around the room. Her prized possession was her queen-sized bed with a low footboard and a padded headboard. For a few seconds, she envisioned Anthony sprawled across it, nude.

  “Stop it,” she admonished herself, squeezing her eyes shut. When the image cleared, Mariah headed to the shower, trying to drum up some energy to face the day.

  Twenty minutes later, Mariah was in the kitchen, toying with her breakfast.

  Seeing the forlorn expression on her daughter’s face, Anna sat across from Mariah at a natural, solid wood table that created a splash of color against the peach-toned kitchen. She wore a daffodil blouse against black trousers and black suede shoes from Nine West. “Call the man,” Anna gently advised.

  Mariah’s robe-clad shoulders sagged a little. She chewed and swallowed her cornflakes. “Now you sound like Solé.” Two-toned eyes dropped before her mother’s unwavering look. She stirred her cereal, distracted. Then she dropped the spoon in the bowl and let out an audible breath.

  “What about me? I’m single, but I’m telling you to go for it.”

  Mariah lashes lifted.

  It had taken a while for the sadness to leave her mother’s eyes after she left Robert St. Cloud. He was her first love; she had children with the man. But the marriage couldn’t withstand his sense of entitlement, his infidelity, his favoritism of Allegra, or the accusations about Mariah’s paternity. When he died of a heart attack at the age of fifty while driving, Anna didn’t shed a tear. She’d triumphed in spite of him, and managed to have a few serious relationships over the years.

  “When I think back to what I told him about Terry and my father.” She closed her eyes and tried to swallow the lump that lingered in her throat. “I must’ve looked desperate…and pathetic.”

  “So to not appear desperate and pathetic, you ran.” Anna leaned forward and covered Mariah’s hands with her own. “You don’t know what the man thinks, and by the way he reacted when he discovered you’d left without a word, I’d say it’s more than sex to him.”

  Mariah shook her head vehemently, and slid her hands from underneath Anna’s. “I can’t fall for the fantasy of a relationship with him.” She stood, the hem of her robe reaching the middle of her calves. She picked up the bowl and walked to the sink, dumping the remaining milk and cereal in the garbage disposal before washing the spoon and bowl. When finished, Mariah turned around, folding her arms across her chest. “Mom… about my father…?”

  Concern shadowed Anna’s features. “What is it?”

  She swallowed. “He blatantly denied paternity to one of his lovers the last time I was there. Why did he let me visit if…he couldn’t stand the sight of me?”

  Suddenly stricken, Anna didn’t answer. The silence between them was like a detonated bomb. Then, she revealed the heartbreaking truth. “He only let you visit to keep his adoptive relatives happy. He told them he didn’t believe you were his. They believed you were. They wanted both of you to visit. He knew that if he didn’t adhere to their wishes, he wouldn’t have inherited anything.”

  “So it was all about money and property for him?”

  Her mother swallowed. “Yes.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “He told me after they died, shortly after your last visit. I think he did it to hurt me more than you.” Anna’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, hon. I was never going to tell you.”

  After hearing her mother’s shocking admission, Mariah called Solé and told her everything.

  Solé ripped out a Spanish epithet. “He never deserved you anyway. Meet me at my house after work,” she advised. “We’re going shopping.”

  By the time Solé got home and changed clothes, the air was humid and the sky played peek-a-boo, alternating between being overcast and letting a few rays of sun peak through the clouds.

  The two women arrived at the Paramus Park Mall fifteen minutes later.

  It was late Friday afternoon, before the after-work crowd started filtering in, and Solé made a beeline for a lingerie store. This mall was similar to the ones in the Triangle – two stories high and long, the length of a few football fields – with more than two hundred stores. It didn’t take Solé long to breeze through the store, wind around a customer or two, and zero in on a black mesh teddy. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Mariah asked as Solé handed her bankcard to the cashier.

  “You know you want something.” The cashier handed the check card back to Solé, then folded the lingerie and placed it, along with the receipt, in the bag. “Thanks,” Solé said, taking the bag and turning away. “What about the bras with the gel?”

  “I did like those.” Besides, Mariah needed a pick-me-up in the worst way.

  Solé put a hand on her shoulder. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

  With a roll of her shoulders, Mariah went ahead and treated herself.

  It was amazing what a trip to the mall and a minor decision such as changing one’s taste in lingerie could do. Mariah got three gel bras, bare, royal blue and black – a woman always needed a black bra – and six pairs of panties in different styles. She wore hi-cut briefs, but she purchased skimpier underwear once in a while, like the cheekies she wore right now. After today, though, there would be no more hi-cut briefs for her.

  When Mariah left the store, her spirits lifted a little higher…

  …only to come crashing
down to Earth in a pit of flames when the two women returned to Solé’s and saw Anthony Caine sitting in her living room, his hand wrapped around a tall glass of lemonade, as if he belonged there.

  #

  Anthony gripped the glass in his hand a little tighter as he watched Mariah, and though he appeared amused, there was nothing funny about the situation. He spotted the look of momentary panic crossed Mariah’s face before she schooled her features into a deceptive mask of reserve.

  She’s freaked out. Good, he thought without an ounce of sympathy.

  #

  Oh God. What was he doing here?

  Mariah’s breath caught in her lungs as she stood in the living room, her eyes taking in Anthony’s long form. She noticed everything about him − the unsettling fire in his eyes, the onset of his five o’clock shadow, the sand-colored utility shirt that hugged the corded muscles of his shoulders and biceps and the well-fitted khaki cargo pants – and was irritated with herself for it. What eluded her awareness was how she crossed her arms in front of her in a defensive posture, with the lingerie bag dangling from her fingers. “Anthony,” she spoke with artificial poise, “what a surprise.”

  Anthony set the glass down on the end table and rose to his full height. “I’m sure it is,” he countered, but an undertone of sarcasm laced his words. “Ms. D gave me your address. So I stopped by your house and caught your mom as she was leaving. She directed me here, and Mark was kind enough to let me stay.”

  Mariah tensed.

  Mark, was a wiry man of average height with light bronze skin. His compelling brown eyes, the firm features and confident set of his shoulders made him a favorite among the opposite sex. He wrapped a sinewy arm around Solé’s waist and smiled at Mariah, the motion apologetic. “No problem,” he stated.

  But Mariah knew he wasn’t sorry. Mark was enjoying this. She’d get him back later.

  #

  Solé stole a glance at her husband. He was enjoying himself. So was she. They had never seen Mariah act so jumpy around a man before. It was entertaining for them to see a man break through Mariah’s reserve.

  Solé observed Mariah and Anthony, who glared at each other, with hidden curiosity. If there was enough space they’d be circling each other like mountain lions.

  She extended her hand to him. “I’m Solé.”

  She assessed the man before her as he shook her hand. She could see why her best friend headed for the hills. The man was gorgeous, with an aura that seemed to vibrate like a gong, when he watched Mariah. And his eyes…the man looked like he wanted to eat Mariah her alive, in a naughty way, of course. Solé thought she saw Mariah tremble like a gazelle sensing danger from downwind.

  Solé could empathize. She was trembling, and she wasn’t even a blip on Anthony Caine’s radar.

  #

  “Mariah, you want something to drink?” Solé asked.

  “Whatever you’ve got,” Mariah replied. She needed a drink. Her throat was drier than the Serengeti Plains. Mariah experienced a feeling of desertion as her best friends disappeared into the kitchen behind a set of swinging doors, leaving her alone with the man who frightened and aroused her.

  A strained silence enveloped the room. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

  “What are you doing here?” Anthony countered, his tone was velvet, yet edged with steel.

  Mariah met his gaze, a dangerous mix of fury and hunger, without flinching. “I didn’t realize I had to notify you before I left.” She held her hands in the air, the lingerie bag rustling with the motion, indicating that she wasn’t going to say anything more. “I can’t do this now. Not here.”

  “I agree,” he retorted. “I know just the place.”

  #

  By the time Solé and Mark returned to the living room, a gauntlet had been thrown down. Anthony suggested that they finish their conversation at his hotel room on Hackensack Avenue. Mariah was disconcerted, preferring a more public place, but the look in Anthony’s eye dared her to back down. Being the defiant person she was, she accepted the challenge.

  Twenty minutes later, Mariah pulled the strap of her purse off her shoulder, setting it on the wooden table next to her lingerie bag. She wished she’d left it in Anthony’s car and wanted to kick herself. Now she’d have no excuse to leave.

  Mariah took a fleeting glance around. It was a standard king guest room furnished with a nightstand, a king-sized bed, and a neutral soft chair. A large TV across from the bed sat in a wooden entertainment center.

  It wasn’t a large room, so when Anthony stood in the middle of it, his presence seemed to engulf what little free space there was. Mariah raised her chin and turned to face him, trying to ignore that king-sized bed.

  “Okay, Anthony. Let’s get this over with. What do you wa-?”

  “Answers. Why did you run away from me?” An eerie light smoldered in his eyes.

  Chapter 9

  He stood motionless, but Mariah knew he could move lightning-quick when a situation called for it.

  God, she was furious at her vulnerability to him. “I didn’t run.”

  “Why? Did? You? Run?”

  “Bite. Me.”

  Anthony’s lips tensed. “Mariah, don’t play with me.”

  “Oh, please. Get over yourself,” she shot back, her voice low and taut with anger.

  He had a thunderous expression that was unfamiliar to her, but she refused to back down.

  Mariah, unaware that she’d taken two steps toward him, pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “Information-sharing is not a post-requisite for sex. You don’t have papers on me; you’re not my father or Terry and –”

  “Don’t.” He sliced a hand through the air and took a step forward, the muscles of his jaw working. “Don’t go there. Don’t compare me to them. I care about you; they didn’t.”

  Mariah clamped her mouth shut, stunned by his blunt admission. Part of her sensed that he did, but the cautious side of her heart was afraid to believe it. Stumped, Mariah wandered toward the window and paced. She shook her head. “This is insane,” she murmured to herself, though her words were loud enough for Anthony’s ears.

  “What? That people can have deep feelings for someone in a short period of time?”

  Disconcerted, Mariah crossed her arms and averted her eyes. She felt him come up behind her, close enough to feel his breath on the space between her shoulder and neck, and her heart pounded an erratic rhythm. She tingled when he said her name.

  He swung her into the circle of his arms, his eyes tender. Without warning, both hands closed over her shoulders. Keeping her eyes level with his chest, Mariah unfolded her arms and placed her palms on flat against it, the heartbeat was strong and sure. Anthony put a hand under her chin, lifting her face. Mariah raised her eyes and saw a fiery invitation in the depths of his, not just physical, but emotional as well.

  His hands found their way down her arms to the indentation of her waist, pulling her closer. When she remained silent, he answered for her in the form of a question, his timbre more frightening for its gentleness. His eyes locked with hers. “Why are you afraid of me, Mariah?”

  “I am not.” Mariah’s eyes widened with exasperation.

  One corner of his lips tilted in a slight, knowing smile and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, her eyes, and he kissed her soft mouth. His hands caressed the planes of her back before cupping her buttocks through her skirt, bringing her body flush with his.

  Mariah’s body tingled from the contact. Her arms twined around his neck as she drank in the sweetness of his kiss. She felt herself guided across the room until the backs of her legs met the soft chair. Hungry lips and tongues advanced and parried as Anthony urged her down. One hand, big and square with its blunt fingertips and close-cut nails, spread across Mariah’s chest and pushed her back.

  His beautiful head bent, and Mariah felt his warm, open-mouthed kisses on the tops of her thighs, which parted of their own volition. Bolts of pleasure
zipped throughout her body, settling low in her abdomen. Lean hips nestled against her damp heat as his other hand grabbed the hem of her skirt, delving under it, exploring the supple, yet firm lines of her thighs, her hips, before removing her underwear.

  Anthony’s powerful hands settled around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Bewildered, but too aroused to stop him, Mariah reached out, her fingers curving into his forearms as her wedges gave her a sense of balance. The air in the room was heavy, and she couldn’t seem to breathe in enough to sustain her.

  Anthony’s nostrils flared as his fingers unbuttoned her tunic. Mariah sat up and shimmied out of the garment, the material sliding down her back, over her arms. Anthony dropped it on the floor beside the chair, and a lace bra with a front clasp followed. The air-conditioning unit turned on at the moment and cool air drifted over Mariah’s skin.

  Anthony lowered Mariah back down and kissed her. Mariah spine curved and her fingers came up, clenching in his hair, pleading for more.

  Anthony drew back, his right hand on her hip while he unzipped his pants. He bowed over her, their mouths grazing. He dipped his head again, his hot mouth opened at the pulsing base of her throat before moving up to graze her earlobe. “Hang on,” he ground out, his breath against her ear, then dove into Mariah with unerring accuracy.

  She threw her head back, unable to stifle her sob of intense fulfillment when Anthony’s hands circled her hips. Mariah’s fingers dug into the muscles of his forearms as she mimicked his movements.

  Anthony lifted her legs, draping each of them over his forearms, opening her farther to him. He bowed over her again, lowering his head, capturing her lips with his, sending Mariah’s senses reeling.

  A deep-throated moan escaped and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He propelled his hips forward and Mariah’s eyes expanded even more and a startled, erotic-filled yell erupted from her throat, the sensation equivalent to the effect of dropping a match in a gasoline lake.

  Anthony’s responding growl resonated in his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric of the chair. He turned his head until his lips met the silky skin of Mariah’s inner thigh, opened his mouth and laved it with his tongue.