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I'll Take Forever Kobo

Page 2

by Barbara McMahon


  'If I get pneumonia, you'll have to nurse me.'

  'I wouldn't!'

  He leaned closer, looking deep into her eyes, his going warm and soft. Jenny thought she would lose herself in the power of his gaze. She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back again.

  'My guess is that you would,' he said softly. His dark eyes lit with amusement as he towered over her, his broad shoulders and height dwarfing Jenny, his eyes doing strange things to her emotions.

  She stepped back, not wanting to be so close to him, turning to break the spell.

  'There's a drier downstairs, off the kitchen. It's in a laundry room. Just get out, go away!’

  'How big’s your husband?'

  The question took her off guard. 'Huh?'

  'Can I wear something of his while these things dry?'

  Jenny knew a moment of panic. 'I—er—he's small. Not much bigger than I am.' She was trying to think of something to give him, get him away. Get him off this line of questioning before he realized the truth.

  'I... there's a bathrobe you could use. But you should hurry, he'll be along soon.' She moved slowly to the closet, opened the door a little and reached in for a large blue terry-cloth bathrobe. It was large on her, but would be much too small to fit the stranger. Still, it would half to do until his own clothes were dry. She thrust it at him.

  He took it, glancing around again.

  'Mind if I take a shower, too?' he drawled.

  She was momentarily off guard. Maybe he didn't mean to harm her after all, just get dry and warm. Maybe things would be okay and he'd leave when he was warm again.

  'I don't care what you do as long as you get out of this room,' she said, glaring at him.

  'Will I have time before your husband gets home?' he said, watching her closely.

  'I hope not!' She turned away, willing him to leave, wishing she could push him out the door, out of her home.

  'I might chance it.' He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Jenny moved to sit on the edge of the bed, straining to hear him, hear where he was, trying to envision what he was doing. She looked around her bedroom. There was nothing with which to wedge the door shut, nothing she could place as a barrier to his returning if he so chose. How she wished she had a lock for the door.

  The noise from the bathroom penetrated her thoughts. He was taking a shower. Of all the nerve, first he broke in, now this!

  Could she sneak in and surprise him, overpower him while he was not expecting her? She rose, then realized he probably would have locked that door— that room did have a lock. Anyway, once she had done it, what was she to do, find something to tie him up with, try to stay awake until someone else arrived, watching him all the time until she could be rid of him? She could throw the gun out into the snow if nothing else. Turning him out wouldn’t work; he had no qualms about breaking her window, he'd just come back in from another opening. And would probably be angry, too.

  She could dress quickly, take off. If he was in the shower long enough she could get to the car. And then what? The snow would probably prevent her from even getting out of the driveway. And she couldn’t take off into the blizzard without protection. That’d be crazy.

  She pondered various plans, discarding one after another, trying to come up with something, anything, nothing coming to mind that she felt would work under the circumstances. Maybe she’d be okay; he'd left her alone so far.

  'My clothes should be dry soon.' His voice came from the door.

  Jenny looked up in fright, her throat going dry, her eyes wide. He’d opened the bedroom door. Framed in the opening his long legs showed below the short terry robe, broad shoulders straining the material, the robe barely covering him, open at the throat.

  He stepped in. 'Where's your husband?' he asked, moving close to the bed, looking down at her.

  'He'll be along soon, had to go to—um—to Lake Tahoe on business.'

  'No, there's no man living here. There are no clothes in the closet, no razor or aftershave in the bathroom. No signs of a man.'

  Jenny's eyes dropped. Her bluff hadn't worked.

  'You're right,' she said slowly. 'He was killed in a car accident about a year ago. He won't... he's never coming home again.'

  The first fierce hurt and anguish had diminished. It had been over a year now since she had been told the news, been stunned by it. The last year had been hard, but Jenny was over the worst, now. Settled with life, going on.

  'So now you know. There won’t be anyone else coming.' She twisted her wedding ring nervously, round and round. What now? Now that he knew she was alone?

  'I'll be gone in the morning,' he said softly. 'You'll be safe. I'm not going to hurt you.'

  For some reason, she believed him. She felt a whoosh of relief. Maybe, just maybe she would be all right. If she could believe him.

  She looked up at the stranger, and a small smile tugged at her mouth.

  'You don't look like a villain in that get-up,' she said. The scanty terry-cloth robe scarcely covering his body, his long, powerful legs beneath the short cover gave him a comical look. She felt less afraid.

  He smiled back. 'Didn't you know? I'm not the villain, I'm the good guy!'

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jenny watched as he turned and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

  Good guy, indeed, she thought scornfully. Just who did he think he was? A crook who broke into people’s homes and scared them half to death. She drew a deep breath, trying to calm down. Was he coming back? What did he really want–to escape being found by Nate, or more? The minutes dragged by.

  Yawning, she crossed carefully, silently, to her window, drawing the curtains to one side, peering out. It looked as if it were still snowing, from the little she could see reflected in the light from her window. She turned back, anxious to get into bed and get to sleep, seek oblivion from the nightmare in which she found herself.

  She grimaced at her now cold chocolate; how she longed for her cup of warm cocoa, but she wouldn’t leave her room again tonight. The old adage was true—ignorance was bliss. Had she not left her room a little while ago, she'd still be blissfully unaware of the stranger's presence. Would he have stayed downstairs all night? Could she have avoided any knowledge of him except a broken window found in the morning?

  If it would stop snowing soon, maybe the stranger would leave before daylight to get as far away from Nate and Jim as he could. Go to wherever he was heading and leave her in peace. She sighed, unfastening her robe. She'd be better able to cope in the morning.

  The click of her door jerked her head around. The stranger, fully clothed once more, stood in the frame, his arms full of blankets and a pillow. Jenny recognized the yellow blanket and coverlet from the bed in her guest room.

  'What are you doing?' she asked, drawing the robe close again.

  'Just got some covers for the night. It's cool in here.'

  'What do you mean, in here?’ A touch of fear coursed through her.

  He paused, dumped the blankets on the floor and shut the door. 'I'm tired. I want to go to sleep,' he explained patiently, as if to a child. 'It's not warm enough to sleep without some covers, so I got these.'

  'Well, take them back where you found them. Sleep in there!'

  He shook his head. 'Can't do that. Have to make sure you don't try something in the night. I wouldn't hear you from the other room.'

  Jenny's surprise showed. 'Try something? Like what?' Had he read her mind earlier?

  'I couldn’t list all the options. Signal a neighbor, try to get out and go into town.'

  'On a night like this? You're nuts!'

  Shrugging his broad shoulders, he bent to smooth one blanket out, placing the pillow at one end. 'Nevertheless, I'll just sleep in here tonight.'

  Jenny watched in disbelief as he stretched out on the floor in front of the door and covered himself with the yellow blanket and patchwork coverlet.

  'I'm a light sleeper, by the way,' h
e said as he drew the cover over his jeans, across his chest and up against the pillow. 'Goodnight, Jenny,' he said softly.

  Jenny glanced frantically about, as if seeking something that would enable her to get rid of her unwanted roommate, but saw nothing remotely helpful. She glared at him, to no avail. He had his eyes closed already, his breathing was even. He couldn’t have fallen asleep that quickly.

  With an angry flounce, she turned off the lights, holding her breath to see if he moved. After a long moment of straining her ears, she relaxed, slowly eased off her bathrobe and climbed into bed. She lay back, straining to detect any movement, any sound indicating that he was moving. He had not touched her except for taking the phone. He had said he wouldn't harm her, but could she believe him? Could she take the lamp and smash it down on his head, rendering him unconscious? She doubted it. And if he were a light sleeper as he said, he’d hear her so there’d be no surprise attack.

  Dozens of scenarios played through her mind. All ending up in failure and an angry man to boot.

  She held her breath again, listening to his slow, even breath. If the rhythm was any indication, he was already asleep. Closing her eyes, Jenny was again reminded poignantly of her husband. On one or two nights after they had been married and she had not been able to sleep, she had found such comfort in lying in the dark listening to Johnny's steady breathing. How like, yet how different, the sound of the stranger. It was nice, sharing with someone else.

  Jenny's eyes flew open. What was she thinking of? She wanted him out of her house, out of her life! He'd leave in the morning. She'd see to it, somehow. Daylight would offer a way.

  On that hopeful note, she fell asleep.

  When morning came, Jenny almost thought she had dreamed the whole escapade. She rose at her usual time and glanced out of the window. The sky was still overcast. The snow had stopped, but lay heavy on the trees, bending the branches low. She couldn’t tell where her driveway was the snow blanketed the landscape entirely. As she dressed, she went over the events of last night. She was alone in her room, even the blankets had been removed. Maybe he’d left already. Maybe she wouldn’t ever see him again. Curiously, she felt a small pang of disappointment at this thought. Only because she wanted an explanation. Wanted to know what was going on.

  Jenny dressed quickly, pulling on flannel lined blue jeans, a soft blue sweater and warm boots. She brushed her hair until it shone. Her hair was shoulder length, which helped keep her warm in winter and was easy to put up off her neck in summer. Set for the day, she ran lightly down the steps. Entering the kitchen, her eyes flew to the spot before the door where she had first seen him. It was empty. The broken pane was patched with paper, the room warm, as a kettle came to a boil on the stove.

  The stranger was sitting at the breakfast table, tipped back in his chair, lazily watching her.

  'Hi,' he said easily.

  'Hi,' she replied stiffly. Moving into the room, she went to the table, sat gingerly on one of the chairs and faced him. 'Do you have a name?'

  He smiled. 'Sure. Kyle Martin. What's yours?'

  'You called me by it last night.'

  'Jenny, I know from your neighbor Nate. Jenny what?'

  'Warwick.' She glanced out the window. The snow was deeper than she had thought. 'Are you leaving this morning?'

  He shook his head. 'I doubt it. How can I get anywhere in that mess?'

  'Walk.'

  He shook his head again. 'I'd freeze my butt off before I got a mile. It's cold out and the snow is almost hip deep in spots.'

  'Well, you can't stay here!'

  'Last night proves I can. Anyway, I don't want to get into an argument. I plan to stay, so make up your mind to it.'

  Jenny glared at him.

  The shrill whistle of the kettle broke into her thoughts. Out of habit she rose and took it from the burner.

  'I'd fix coffee, but I don't know where you keep it,' Kyle drawled, watching her.

  'Am I expected to wait on you, too, while you're here?'

  'Come now, Jenny, you have to eat, how much trouble to fix a little extra for me?' he said reasonably.

  'Look, Mr. Kyle Martin, just who are you and why are you breaking into people's houses, hiding? I don't want you here. Can't you find somewhere else to go?'

  'I'm visiting this area incognito, you might say. I don't want certain people to know.'

  'Oh, that's clear. Who? Nate and Jim? Was there a poker game?'

  'No, there was no poker game.'

  The silence after that statement dragged on and on. Jenny, waiting for further explanation, Kyle silent, watching her. Finally her impatience bubbled over.

  'Well, why don't you want Nate to know you're here?'

  'It's long and involved and doesn't concern you. At least, I hope it doesn't. It's not that I don't want your friend Nate to know. I don't want anyone to know. I'd forget asking questions about things that don't concern you, it’s safer that way. Are you going to fix us breakfast?'

  Her emotions seething, Jenny turned and began to get things out for the meal. She knew a subtle threat when she heard one. Even though he hadn’t done anything to harm her, she didn’t trust him. What was going on? How was this guy connected to Nate and Jim? Why had they been out looking for Kyle late last night? And why didn't he want anyone to know he was here?

  Only a crook would be so secretive. And carry a gun. She wondered where he’d put it while he dried his clothes. She should have dashed out and looked for it while he was in the shower.

  She drew the cups she needed for the coffee from the cupboard. She used the French press for the coffee. When it was read she filled both cups. Slamming one down before Kyle, spilling a little, she kept her eyes away from him. He slowly put his chair back on all four legs, drawing the cup near him. Jenny quickly gathered the things she’s fix for breakfast—eggs, bacon, bread, milk. All the while she prepared the meal, she was conscious of his steady gaze on her. Finally, frustration rising, she turned to him.

  'Do you have to watch my every move?'

  Kyle shrugged, a smile lurking in his eyes. 'More interesting than watching the wall.'

  'Well, I don't like it. Look somewhere else!'

  'I'll look where I want. Unless you want to try to make me look elsewhere?'

  'You're making me nervous,' she muttered, turning back to the eggs. His eyes were unnerving, his very presence unnerving.

  In spite of his constant regard, she finished preparing the meal. Disdainfully placing his plate before him, she sat opposite. Eating with her eyes firmly on her plate, she tried to regain her composure.

  Kyle kept half an eye on Jenny as he ate. The meal was eaten in silence, only when he was finished did he speak.

  'That was delicious. Is there more coffee?'

  Jenny stared at him for a long moment, then rose and took his cup. It took a few minutes to make another cup. When she handed him the full cup she glared at him, only to be confused by the amused regard she met when her eyes locked with his.

  'Did you say you have a four-wheel-drive vehicle?' he asked.

  Warily Jenny looked back. 'Why, are you planning to steal it?'

  'Can it get me out of here?' He ignored her comment.

  She sighed and rose to go to the window. Looking out, she surveyed her yard. The snow had stopped during the night. At an estimate, it was about eighteen inches deep–deeper in some areas where it had been blown into drifts. The trees were heavy with snow, branches bowed beneath the weight. She tried to see where her driveway was. Surely CalTrans had cleared the highway by now, and if her jeep made it to the road, he could get away. She turned back.

  'You’d have to dig out of the garage and pack it down until the jeep got on top of the snow, then it might make it to the highway.' She licked her lips, waiting for his response.

  'Can you drive me out?'

  Jenny was surprised. 'Me? I thought you’d take the jeep.'

  'I'm not into grand theft auto, and if I took it I don't know how to get it back
to you. Besides, I don't have much experience driving in snow. If you've lived here a while, chances are you do have the experience necessary to get us out.'

  'You want me to take you to the highway?' Was that where his car was? Or had he parked it in town? Could he have walked all that way yesterday in the storm? Why had he been out in the storm in the first place? Who was he?

  'No, not the highway, to Strawberry.'

  'Strawberry? Palmer’s closer.'

  'Exactly why I want to go to Strawberry.'

  'And you'll be gone?'

  'Never saw such a hospitable lady! Are you always so anxious for guests to leave?'

  'Not invited ones. You're hardly a guest.'

  'I could stay.'

  'No, I can take you to Strawberry. Ready now?'

  Kyle chuckled at her quick response. Jenny felt her heart lurch at his lop-sided smile, the way his eyes crinkled. The tan he had was evidence of time spent out of doors, even in winter. Was he a skier? Snow boarder? He was certainly athletic enough to excel at winter sports. What was he up to? In other circumstances she might have been interested in learning more about him. Now she was only interested in getting him away from her home and out of her life. At least she hadn’t seen the gun in a while. She considered throwing the hot teakettle at him. But if she missed, it would undoubtedly make him angry. And the though of deliberately injuring someone–even this intruder–was hard to implement.

  She watched him as he rose. There was no superfluous flesh on the man: his shoulders were broad, his chest large, his legs long. He was trim, graceful, dynamic. In other circumstances, she might be interested in learning more about him. Now–she just wanted him gone.

  'Know me again?' he mocked.

  She flushed and turned away, vexed that he had caught her looking. Hearing his chuckle only made her angrier with herself. She cleared the table, doing her best to ignore him.

  Kyle left the room and she was alone. Quickly she ran water over the dishes. She'd wait to wash them when she got back. Strawberry wasn't far. It wouldn't take her long to get rid of him. At least he wasn't stealing her only means of transportation–she hoped.

 

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