Hit 'N' Run (Under Suspicion #1)

by Lori Power

  Not missing a beat, Mitch walked towards the stately lady, holding out his hand. “I’m Mitch Morgan, an old school chum of Lorna’s. She’s invited me for dinner to thank me for helping her paint the fence.”

  Mariam flashed a glance at Lorna. “Isn’t that marvelous,” she said warmly, accepting his outstretched hand in her cool, firm grip. She smiled warmly, her apple-doll face, all cheeks, with a dimpled chin. “Company. And an old school chum. We always have lots of food—too much really for three people,” she said with a wink. Glancing at her daughter, Mariam waved a hand, taking charge. “Lorna dear, I’m home now; I’ll keep an eye on Kris so you can run upstairs and freshen up, if you like.”

  Chapter Eight

  After a quick shower where she scrubbed her skin within an inch of its life to remove the brown stains splashed on her like freckles, Lorna decided to leave her hair loose over her shoulder for a change. Telling herself her menstruations had nothing to do with having a man over for supper, she slipped on a light-yellow cotton sundress with spaghetti straps. She felt very feminine and not just a little desirable. With just a touch of gloss on her lips, and a coat of mascara on her lashes, she made a face in the mirror, deluding herself as to why she was going to such trouble.

  “You know why,” she mocked her reflection, raising her eyebrows. Laying her palms flat on the counter, she counted her breaths, calming her racing heart. She didn’t want to feel this attraction to Mitchell anymore. The strong pull of wanting him to pull her against his strong chest and make her feel safe and taken care of. But those kinds of feelings could only end in pain for her—again. She stood and smoothed the dress across her waist, over her hips, wanting him to want her and she being able to walk away. Needing him to need her like she needed him. Part of her ached to hurt him like he had hurt her all those years ago. And yet she yearned for his arms to wrap around her and tell her he would never leave and that he didn’t care what lay behind them; the only thing that mattered is what lay ahead.

  “Enough stalling.”

  Kris’s chirping while he played in the living room with his many figurines, reenacting one show or another, cloaked her descent down the stairs. She paused at the bottom, adult voices sailing to her from the kitchen on the slight breeze from the open patio doors.

  Lorna peeked around the entrance.

  “You’ve known Lorna for a long time?” Mariam questioned Mitch. Her hands worked in a blur whipping her homemade Caesar salad dressing in a deep bowl.

  Pulling her head back, Lorna laid a hand lightly on the doorframe, not yet ready to make an appearance. Curious, she listened. “A long time ago…during our last year of university. We lost touch. Obviously.” There was a smile in his tone. “She was my tutor.”

  “Oh.” Mariam hummed the word. “She used to do a lot of that to make some extra money. Did she help?”

  A deep chuckle resonated up his vocal cords and Lorna felt the vibrations along her inner thighs. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

  Happiness could be heard in Mariam’s voice. “Nice of you to keep in touch.”

  “We didn’t actually. I only met up with her again when we ran into each other in Vancouver,” he said, laughing again. “Quite literally ran into each other.”

  “So that was you? She didn’t say.”

  “Still a closed book then,” Mitch said, sobering. “She never did give much away.”

  “No,” Mariam agreed. “Keeps herself to herself, that one. Now my Natasha, there was a chatterbox. Always on the go. A real social butterfly.”

  Lorna visualized Mariam’s mossy green eyes watering like dew on a meadow when she spoke of her daughter. Lorna had experienced this so many times over the last few years, she forever felt lost not knowing how she could ever make it better for Mariam.

  Footfalls echoed across the stone floor. Mitch’s voice hushed. “I didn’t know Natasha all that well, but I certainly am sorry for your loss. I remember her being very vivacious.”

  “She was that,” Mariam said in a bare whisper. “Thank you, dear. First my poor Brent from a massive heart attack, just after the girls graduated, then Tasha.” A shuddered sigh escaped the woman’s lips. “Just about four years now.”

  “It’s tough. I understand. I lost my father a year ago—April.” Lorna heard the chair legs pull back from the table. “When they’re gone, you have so many regrets. I was away on a job when he passed. I can’t seem to let it go that I wasn’t here.”

  Clanking metal against ceramic let Lorna know Mariam had resumed her mixing. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to have regrets.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.”

  “You were close?”

  “Yes,” he replied and Lorna longed to see his face as her palms pressed against the wall. She had an urge to run her hand along his cheek to ease the burden of his pain.

  “You know they say the mourning gets better with time.” A slight clatter indicated the ceramic bowl had been laid on the counter just as bottles clinking let her know Mariam had opened the fridge. “Now I don’t know who they are, but I think they’re full of shit.”

  A guffaw followed a cough. “I knew I liked you from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Mitch laughed, and Lorna closed her eyes, visualizing his deep dimples and the lines that looked so becoming fanning over his tanned skin. “I like the way you talk.”

  The splish of a cap twisted off the top of a beer made Lorna’s mouth water.

  “Takes one to know one.” The bottles clicked before silence descended.

  “But we’ll always have a piece of Tasha.” Mariam continued, seeming by the sound of her voice to return to her post by the sink in dinner preparation. “She left us Kris, and he’s so much like her. Every day is a blessing.”

  “Hey Mama, what you doin’?” Kris’s words caused her to stand up straight and made her realize how long she had been eavesdropping. “You look purdy in your lallow dress.”

  Pulse beating loudly in her ears, she bent down to scoop the boy into her arms. “Thank you, my darlin’.” She kissed the top of his head. “You smell so good, like fresh outdoors.”

  “Like the sunshine. Like your lallow dress,” he said, regarding her with adoring green eyes. “I touch your hair?”

  Kris always loved to run his fingers through her hair. “I not mess it,” he said with such innocence his words melted her heart.

  Lorna bent low to accommodate his reach. After he ran his chubby fist through her hair, she kissed him, smiling into the top of his head. “You do smell like sunshine.”

  Lorna stood from her squatted position only to see Mitch staring at her in the most peculiar way from the archway to the kitchen. Shit, does he know I was spying?

  ***

  “Kris dear, Nana already put the sauce on the noodles; you don’t need to add more ketchup,” Mariam said to the small boy who seemed to wear more of the food on his face than he was getting into his stomach. She reached her napkin to wipe the red from his cheeks.

  The child grinned at his grandmother. He knows what he’s about, Mitch tried not to smile.

  “It’s good Nana, mmm-umm.” Red sauce formed a blurred circle from his nose to the bottom of his chin. His small tongue shot out to lick his lips. “Yummy. Want some ketchup, Mitchell?”

  The kid was so adorable he could see why the two women doted on the youngster. A foreigner to home life, Mitch hadn’t been around ‘normal kids,’ let alone any kids in such a long time, but he had been absorbed easily into this group. Kris had put him under a spell of adoration. “Sure, why not,” he agreed, allowing the child to pour ketchup over his noodles.

  Both women at the table raised their eyebrows. Lorna shook her head almost imperceptibly.

  “It’s fine,” he said, holding her gaze, enjoying the gentle warmth of her light brown eyes. “I like ketchup.” Which he did—on French fries. Lasagna? Maybe not so much.

  “Mmm-umm, me too.” Kris took another large bite of his noodles smeared in the bright-red goo. “You really
a policeman?”

  “Yes, I am,” he said, mirroring the child’s movements, putting a heaping helping of lasagna on his fork and smearing it with ketchup. Here goes nothing. Let’s hope I can keep it down. “What are you going to be when you grow up?”

  “An Avenger!”

  Mitch almost choked on his food, taking a large gulp from his water glass. “An Avenger, eh? Just like Tony Stark?”

  Kris jumped up from the table to place his hands firmly on his hips. “Maybe Captain America. I a superhero!”

  Mitch started to laugh before catching the set jaw line in the young boy’s face suggesting his being a superhero was no laughing matter. Seeing the child’s grandmother and Lorna barely holding it together, he understood they knew better than to laugh at the boy’s ambitions.

  “Come on and sit back down at the table,” Lorna instructed. “Finish your meal.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Supper was cleared, and Mariam shooed he and Lorna along as she took Kris by the hand. “You two go now and catch up,” she said, shooting a meaningful gaze at Lorna Mitch clearly understood. He lowered his chin, hiding his own smile of satisfaction. “I’m going to give this young man a bath.”

  “I Super Kris!”

  “Yes, indeed you are,” Mitch heard the older woman say as he and Lorna moved out to the wide front porch where a swing sat off to the side, sheltered by a thick hedge of lilac bushes.

  Off in the distance, the sky was a painting mixed with pinks and oranges as the sun prepared to settle for the night. Standing close to the railing, Mitch regarded Lorna. The play of uncertainty across her features made him ache to cup her cheek and ease her worry. He remembered this vulnerable side so well—like yesterday when she tripped over the library carpet. Like then, his heart twisted, wanting her to feel comfortable. He took her stiff hand to lead her towards the swing.

  She resisted slightly, and he tugged just a bit. “Come on,” he said, coaxing. “We’ll catch up.”

  She sat down heavily with a sigh on the other side of the swing. “Listen, Mitch…”

  The distance between them was too far. Overcome with impatience, he decided he had waited long enough. All day. Then through supper. Yesterday after pulling her over. The last five years, in fact. His lips cut her off. He couldn’t help it. Not one bit. As soon as she sat down, luscious curves enhanced by the girl-next-door shift of a yellow dress, he became determined to taste her lips. Drawn to her like a moth to the flame, he had to know if her body still responded to his as he remembered. He needed to know—once and for all—that he did not imagine the connection they had before.

  Pulling back to scrutinize her features, try to read her, he wrapped his hand around the base of her neck enjoying the silk of her hair as it slipped over his fingers when he pulled her face back towards him. Without waiting for an invitation, his lips sliced across hers, so full and soft against his own. He tilted his head as his mouth moved over hers, his tongue running along the edge, tasting the citrus of her lip gloss. “Yumm.” he purred before lifting his head again, only slightly, to see her eyes flutter.

  Encouraged, he continued.

  He was rewarded when her lips parted, yielding to him, and he didn’t need a written invitation before his tongue took command. His other palm slid down the span of her back to settle just above the curve her hip, urging her towards him. His lower body hardened in response to her proximity when her arms came up to twine around his neck. With dueling tongues, their lips meshed. His breathing became laboured, as though he were running a marathon. Moving his mouth along her jawline to her earlobe, he gently nipping and tugging his way down the length of her neck to settle at her pulse point.

  “Ahh,” she breathed, and he vibrated with longing. She was like putty, all melted longing, and he had a need to take her right there on the swing. “Mitch.”

  Smiling into the soft part of her neck, he said, “Is this what it takes for you to say my name correctly?”

  Her body stiffened, her head coming up, and Mitch moved his lips quickly to reclaim hers. The kiss deepened and he demanded more. To his surprise, she didn’t fight against the building passion. Instead, she enhanced the fire, returning his kiss, moving her hands to either side of his face, pulling him closer, her own fever adding fuel, blazing a trail across his cheek to his neck.

  One of her hands came down between them to unbutton his cotton shirt, sliding her hand inside across his taut nipple.

  “Lorna. I want you so badly,” he said, his own hand coming to rest on the outside of her dress. Her breasts seemed to strain against the thin barrier of the fabric.

  Mitch was only vaguely aware of splashing and singing sailing down on them from the open window until Lorna stiffened in his arms, pushing away from him. Sitting up straight, she adjusted her dress and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “What am I doing? W-we doing? I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. Not ever. Not with you.”

  Not with me? “What?”

  She pushed him back farther from her, creating distance. He registered the void, a deep hole. Something precious had been taken from him. Her hand twitched and she smoothed her hair into place. Her eyes, previously unfocused, turned to him with a penetrating stare, burning with golden flecks. “You have to go, Mitch. It’s getting late.”

  Trying to recapture the moment, he said. “It’s not a school day tomorrow, Mom. Can’t we stay up a little later?” He leaned forward, reaching for her to draw her back in, but she resisted, palms outstretched. She pulled away, widening the gulf.

  “I can’t. Not with you.”

  There it was again. “Why not with me? What’s the problem with me? Why was there always a problem with me?”

  She blinked a couple of times, owlishly. Shaking her head, she started to get up, but he reached for her arm, tugging her back down. “No, tell me, Lorna. What’s the problem with me?”

  With sparks in her eyes, her mouth thinned. “Why did you come here? What do you want from me? I have a child, a business, and a life. You can see I don’t do casual. You know that. That’s why it didn’t work. What do you want?”

  Emotions high, his temper replaced his passion and popped like a cork from the bottle. All the hurt he had carried around with him these last five years exploded. Wounds, which began and ended with Lorna. “What kind of bullshit is this? Why didn’t it work before? I want to know why you left me—strike that, I deserve to know.”

  He breathed deeply, gulping for air and paused to run a hand under his cap, shaking his head. “Maybe I need some closure after all these years. I didn’t initiate things, I let you have your space. I kept my distance when you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me, but then there was McNabs—and damn it, I need to know why the girl who seduced me at grad ran away. I want to know why I couldn’t find or contact you. I thought we had something special and then you just up and fuck off like our being together meant nothing at all. And you have the nerve to tell me you don’t do casual. For your information, I didn’t consider us casual. I’m sorry for wearing the skirt in this discussion, but I need to know why?”

  ***

  Lorna sagged back in the swing, struck as though with a physical blow. Never had she expected to see such open hurt on his strong face. She lowered her eyes to her hands, now clasped in her lap, holding tight to one another like an anchor.

  “After all these years, maybe I just need to know,” he flared, bouncing back against the seat of the swing, setting it in motion. “You always closed yourself off from me. No matter how I tried. Just when I was getting somewhere, you’d close down. Then when I finally give up, what do you do, come on to me at the graduation party. You open yourself up and you’re like a beacon of light I can’t resist. Tell me I’m not alone in this.”

  Mitch grabbed her by the shoulders, his blue eyes ice on fire. “Tell me I didn’t imagine it all. Tell me you felt it too.”

  Overwhelmed with his raw passion, Lorna stared, her throat swelling with pent-up emotion. “I felt it,”
she said, swiping a rogue tear from the corner of her eye. “I did too.”

  He shook her shoulders, caught himself and released her with a huff. “Was it all just a game for you? Did you just need to know you could bag the jock? The rep was invisible fluff, you know. What happened? Where’d you go? Why’d you leave?”

  Lorna remained silent. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  This couldn’t be right. She saw him. Didn’t she? All these years…

  His palms fell heavily onto her shoulders again. “Tell me,” he raged in a hoarse whisper, his fingers digging into her skin. “Tell me and then I’ll leave you alone. You won’t ever have to see me again.”

  “No,” she croaked, her hand shooting out to cover his forearm. Words and movement complete before she understood she meant it. “No. Not again.”

  “Not again?”

  Lorna lowered her head. Silent.

  “Tell me,” he urged, his fingers almost hurting her slender bones.

  “No…You left me,” she murmured, lifting her head. “It was you who left me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, her hair fluttered forward over her cheek. “When we were in the tent. You left me.” Humiliation hummed with the memory, heat flared under her skin. “Your buddies came back. Started chanting your Captain Morgan mantra, and you went out. Remember, they asked you if you had finally bagged the ‘cyberfem’? Remember, that’s they used to call me.”

  “Lorna, you have the whole thing wrong.”

  “I don’t think so,” she whispered, wrenching her shoulders from his grip. Where intimacy reigned mere moments before, now an ocean of unrest lay between them. “You left to join your heckling fan club.”

  “No, you have it wrong. I went out to shut them up and shoo them away—”

  “I waited for you.” She cut across his words, her voice but a murmur. “I waited and waited, and when I did come out—”