by Nancy Radke
Angry at herself, she ran down the stairwell to the basement laundry, gathered her clean clothes and brought them back up. Entering her apartment, she carried them through and dropped them in a heap on her bed to fold. It was time to order the pizza and get a much needed shower.
A sound behind her made her spin around, her eyes immediately finding the source. Her apartment door was open—she had not closed it completely—the setting sun backlighting the tall man standing halfway in, a determined look on his face. He had on a heavy overcoat over a black suit, the fur collar up, for there was snow on the ground today, a light layer but the air was chilly.
"Logan!" The surprised cry of longing revealed her innermost feelings more than a hundred words, and the agony of the past week was there in her eyes, unhidden, for him to see. Her hand stretched out towards him even as he spoke.
"You inviting me in?"
"Did you ever need an invitation?" Her lips were burning with a deep desire for the touch of his and she moved forward as if compelled, afraid of saying the wrong thing and sending him away again.
"No, but I want to be sure of my welcome this time. No Mace." He stepped away from the doorway to meet her, the determined scowl replaced by a relieved smile as she flew the last few yards to him, and the strength of his welcoming arms as they closed around her canceled out the harsh words he had spoken when he left...such a long, long time ago.
It was not really a time for speeches. It was a time for the kind of healing that can only be done with comforting arms and questing lips. It was time to say ‘I love you’ without words.
Each gave and gave again...their heart with a searching intensity—apologizing, forgiving, comforting...all the things that can best be said by showing.
She clung to him as to a lifeline, the need for him so great that her reserve was cast away entirely as she gave herself in love to this man...this one who was a stranger no longer.
"Oh, Logan, I love you—"
"And I love you. That's the last thing you said to me. It kept echoing through my mind. I knew you wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it."
"My letter?"
"It came, yesterday. I was regretting leaving you before I was halfway back to Green Bay. I reminded myself of your background, your mother’s husbands, knowing that they were why it was difficult for you to trust. But I stubbornly kept away, trying to make my head rule my heart."
"I'm so sorry I said those things." Her voice was low, a gentle whisper across his lips.
"It's okay," he said, pulling her closer so that there was not a hair's breath between them. "But I came so close to losing you—"
"Not so close. I wouldn't have given up that easily."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. I was headed for Tennessee. As soon as the Super Bowl was over, you were going to find me camped on your doorstep."
"A most forward young lady. What would your mama say to that?"
"Probably tell me to hurry up and bring you home."
She looked down at herself, wrinkling her nose in chagrin. "You pick the worst times to come through that door. "
"What's wrong?" he said, his smile permanent now, settling in his blue eyes and spreading across his face from within. "You look fine to me."
He had to be in love if he wasn't bothered by the dirty, disheveled state she was in. "I need a shower."
"Go get one...I'll wait."
She dithered, wanting to get clean, but not wanting to leave his side. "How soon do you have to leave?"
"I have a week."
"A whole week?"
"Uh, huh. Coach Dobb gave me that long to ask you to marry me and get my head back on. He figured I could get ready for the Super Bowl best by seeing you."
"Oh. He knew what was going on?"
"Jake told him. I had trouble in the last game—"
"I watched. The first quarter. But you got things straightened out—"
"Coach told me to either come to a decision before I went back onto the field or else he'd put in Steve Rollings, my back-up."
"But—" She looked indignant and he defended the coach's actions.
"I couldn't concentrate. A professional athlete is supposed to play his best no matter what's happening in his private life, but the tension and despair was affecting my performance. A happy man plays better than a sad one, every time; and carries the team with him.
“So I made my decision, told him what it was, got congratulated by the whole team—and we went out fired up and ran right over the Hornets."
"And he gave you a whole week off?"
Her bewilderment made him chuckle. "Me and some of the injured players. He's not being generous, just wants to win. And he figures a quarterback who has his life straightened out is going to play better than one who doesn't. He said to tell you if you didn't promise to marry me he was going to come out and ask you himself."
She smiled, gently amused, and he added, "He would, too."
Suddenly conscious of the open door, Alison pulled back and looked at it. Quick to pick up the direction of her thought, Logan released her and took the two steps necessary to close it.
Then stopped.
The young man from the airport entered, kicking the door the rest of the way open and stalking inside, a gun in his left hand and a set of keys in his right.
Logan heard Alison’s gasp as his training took over. The handgun was not yet pointed towards them, which it would be as soon as the man cleared the rebounding door. Less than a second, it was all he needed to shift his weight and launch himself at the intruder, his right hand sweeping out to knock the gun down.
A reflex squeeze on the trigger sent a bullet into the intruder’s leg, and Logan lost no time in spinning him around and dropping him to the floor. He landed an elbow on the man’s throat, hearing the cry of pain as he wrestled the gun away and shoved it beyond them, towards Alison.
She was standing frozen, with a shocked look on her face, but walked forward, picked up the gun and pointed it at them.
Logan saw her look down at her finger and move it off the trigger. He nodded, happy he wasn’t going to get shot.
He had been attentive when the coaches described certain moves as being dangerous and against football rules. Here and here, the places he wasn’t supposed to hit anyone, he now used to further put the maniac out of action. He left the guy curled in a ball on the floor and very carefully took the gun from Alison.
“Call 911,” he said, and she did so while he made sure the man stayed still except for his groaning.
“You...you hurt me!” the man cried.
Logan thought of all his friends and fellow players whom this man had injured or killed and had no sympathy at all. The guy would probably be declared innocent because of insanity.
“If you give pain, you’ve got to be ready to receive it,” he said. “You’re getting off lightly.”
Alison began to tremble, and sat down quickly on the nearest chair. Logan pulled up one for himself, checked the bullets—there were plenty, and looked over at her. She was hugging herself closely, her lips trembling, but she was safe, unhurt, and had just said she loved him. Again.
“Thanks for taking your finger off the trigger,” he told her. “You had me worried.”
“More than him?”
“He was on the floor. You had the gun.”
“It’s heavier than a can of Mace,” she admitted.
“Remind me to teach you to shoot.” He smiled at her and she smiled back—the flashing sweet smile that he often watched for, that encompassed her features; making her eyes glow and lifting her lips slightly. He could see her relax, no longer feeling threatened.
The police arrived and it didn’t hurt that they quickly recognized him. Logan explained the importance of catching this man, that he was wanted by the FBI for the murders of several players. He did not want them to let him go on a technicality. Two of them assured him that they would accompany the man all the way to his arraignment, and would double guard him unt
il the FBI took him into custody.
“We’ve all received alerts about this guy,” one said. “It was fortunate you were able to disarm him.”
Logan pulled out his wallet and extracted Mark Stone’s card. “Here’s the agent who’s handling the case.”
It took two hours to wrap everything up, then they were once more alone in Alison’s apartment.
Alison closed the door and turned to Logan, who was putting a chair back into the dining area. She was so happy he hadn’t been hurt. She had recovered from the shakes while the police was there, but she still felt weak. “I thought he was going to kill you.”
“I was lucky. Now we can all get back to normal living,” he said with a smile of relief. “No more watching over our shoulders for him to try something.”
“I’m so happy he’s gone.”
“Me, too. I didn’t want to bring you into danger. One of the other reasons I stayed away was to keep him from you. I wonder how he followed me?”
“He’s been around here the last few days.”
“What?”
“I thought he was a new tenant.”
Logan looked like he had just witnessed a horrible tragedy. “Oh, my dear. I put you in danger... If he had hurt you... Ahh! I can’t imagine...”
“He didn’t.”
“No. No thanks to me.” He took a deep breath, shuddering. “I love you.”
"And I love you," she told him, almost in amazement. It seemed strange to be able to say it to him. Yet her love seemed to deepen with every magic moment they spent together.
He stepped closer, serious. "Will you marry me?"
"Yes...if you think we can make it work."
"Marriage...it's like that lane in Alderwood. We take the chance and go down it. It might be disappointing or it might be full of promise, but we'll never know until we take the risk. I want you as my partner, for life."
"But what if I mess up? I'll try not to, but—"
"I'll love you so much you won't have the time or inclination to have any doubts about me." She smiled more broadly at that—he would know how—and agreed with him when he added, "I'm willing to take the chance that we can weather pro life together. I certainly can't see me ever wanting to marry anyone else. I love you, my dearest."
Alison nodded her head. At last she realized that life could only progress if people were willing to take chances. If he was willing to take the chance for future happiness by trusting her with his love, she could do the same. And told him so.
"Perfect." He thrust his hand into his coat and pulled out a ring box. "This is to make it official." He flipped the lid open to reveal an emerald solitaire in an unusual antique setting of gold.
She couldn't think of words to say and watched as he removed it and slid it on the fourth finger of her left hand. It was a trifle loose, she'd have to get it made smaller so she wouldn't lose it.
"Do you like it?" he questioned before she could get her tongue unstuck. "You do want one, don't you? I mean—"
"Oh, yes, it's beautiful; it's...it's striking."
"If you wanted something else...a diamond?"
"Oh, no. This is marvelous It took my breath away, that's all. I've never seen anything so lovely."
"Are you sure?"
"You just try and take it away from me," she declared, words coming easily now. "You'll never get this back," she warned, "so you'd better be prepared to go ahead with a wedding."
The relief showed in his eyes as she threw her arms around him for another kiss.
"I thought maybe we could go see your folks, then go to mine."
"When?"
"As soon as you can get ready."
"Now?”
He nodded.
“I'll have to get someone to cover for me tomorrow—"
"How about the rest of the month? I'd like you to stay with my folks when I go back to Green Bay, get to know them better, then come to the Super Bowl with them."
"Done." She picked up the phone and started dialing, her appointment book in front of her as she took the plunge into her new life.
THE END
Thank you for reading “Tennessee Touch.” If you enjoyed this story, please do me a big favor. Go back to www.amazon.com and leave an honest review. Authors live and die by their reviews. The few extra minutes readers take really help an author out. Thank you.
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OTHER WORKS BY NANCY RADKE
SHORT STORY EXTRA: The Prettiest Gal on the Mountain
THE SISTERS OF SPIRIT SERIES
WORKS BY OTHER AUTHORS
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OTHER WORKS BY NANCY RADKE ...Sisters of Spirit Series
Want a clean, funny, sweet romance? Grab TURNAGAIN LOVE, #1 Sisters of Spirit Sweet, Contemporary, Humorous. Stranded on a small island, Jennel is happy to see her handsome rescuer until she finds out he is taking her job. Affaire de Coeur gave it four stars. Scribes World said "Turnagain Love has some fascinating twists and turns, unexpected complications, and charming scenes."
Can’t get enough of those Turnagain Love characters? Pick up CLOSED DOORS, #2 Sisters of Spirit Sweet, Contemporary. Ellen must help him keep the secret which could destroy his way of life. “All the characters from Turnagain Love are back, as unpredictable as ever.” Gail P.
Looking for a little mystery sprinkled in with the romance? Investigate STOLEN SECRETS, #3 Sisters of Spirit Romantic Mystery Murder and robbery in a Seattle houseboat community. “An emotional roller coaster with a feel-good ending. Ms. Radke sprinkles in humor when you least expect it.” J. Rogers
Want more sweet romances, this time with a strong suspense element? Try out COURAGE DARES, #4 Sisters of Spirit Suspense, sweet, contemporary. Mary prays for courage to overcome her tragic past and finds her answer in the dangerous present. “This story really kept me guessing. I never knew what would happen next.” Allison D.
SAMPLE: SONGS FOR PERRI
PROLOGUE
Tragedy gave no warning.
Slamming the door on her mother’s new Range Rover, twenty-six year old Perri Linn started to pull on her much-traveled suitcase, then paused to watch the swiftly approaching car.
Her step-father's home was perched on the edge of the mesa near Phoenix, and was the last house on the road. If the car passed the next driveway...which it did...it must be coming here, to his place.
Squinting to see better through the heat waves, Perri recognized Walt's silver gray Mercedes. She knew they weren't expecting her yet, so why would he and her mom be coming home in the middle of the day? Could it be an emergency—they were traveling awfully fast?
They must slow down to turn into the driveway!
As if in defiance, the car roared on past and smashed into the large rocks set as a barricade on the mesa's edge. Red dust swirled upward towards the hot Arizona sun, cloaking the twisted metal.
With a noiseless scream, Perri raced down the gravel drive. A woman lay half out of the car on the driver's side, her light golden hair, so like Perri's own, revealing her identity.
The wreck burst into flames, but Perri ignored the furnace-like heat and half-carried, half-dragged her mother out of danger; then used her hands to snuff out the fire on Crystal's dress.
Blood. Everywhere. Flowing from Crystal's face and arms and body—mainly her head. Perri yanked off her own blouse to press against the deepest wound. "No...no...no," she whimpered, trying vainly to stop the torrent. Wasn't anyone around to help? She didn’t have her cell phone, she had dropped her purse as she ran.
"Papa? Was he with you?" she shouted.
"No. He's...he's still working..."
Perri sighed in relief. Her step-father was deaf, but that wouldn't have hindered his escape if he wasn’t injured.
"My pendant." Her mother yanked at the large ivory pendant around her neck as if it were choking her. A favorite piece of je
welry, it had been given to her by a friend working in Africa.
"Leave it, Mom." Frantic, Perri looked toward the nearby homes. Hadn't anyone heard the crash?
"Take it," Crystal insisted, in a voice so weak Perri had to concentrate to hear. "Take it to..." She faltered, recovered, tried to speak again; all the time struggling with the pendant's leather thong.
Her actions pushed Perri's hand away; started the flow of blood again. "Mom, please. Lie still."
But her mother fought the thong until Perri unscrewed the ivory clasp. With the pendant's removal, Crystal relaxed and let Perri reapply the compress.
"You go—” Her words were slurred.
"I can't. You'll bleed—”
"No. You go. You go... must have it..." Crystal's eyes glazed and she seemed to lose her thoughts.
"Mom!" Perri shouted, desperate to keep her mother conscious. "Mom, what happened?"
"Scorpion."
Perri kept the shirt pressed against her mother's head as she glanced over at the burning wreck. A scorpion in the car? No wonder her mom had crashed. She had an excessive fear of all snakes and bugs and spiders.
"It's cooked now," Perri assured her, looking back down. Her mother's next words were almost too faint to hear.
"No. No. Pendant. Take it. Inside..." Giving a small sigh, Crystal dropped into unconsciousness.
"Mom!"
The crunch of gravel next to her caused Perri to look up, seeing her parent's nearest neighbor, a nurse, running to them. Crouching down, the woman took Crystal's wrist, feeling for the pulse.
"She's still with us, Perri. Keep that pressure on." The woman had brought a first-aid kit with her, plus an armful of clean towels. She bandaged as she talked. "My son called 9-1-1, then Walt, while I grabbed these things."