“Thanks, but no movie. I’m eager to return to my research. I can get a good couple of hours work in tonight.”
After he settled her in the truck’s passenger seat, he walked to the other side of the vehicle, and slid behind the wheel.
Alex turned toward him and shook her head. “After spending so many hours with a boring academic, you’ll probably be very glad to get back to your interesting life.”
She might be testing him, encouraging him to reveal something about his life or about the way he usually spent his time. But his past wasn’t of interest to him right then. What occupied his thoughts now were the next few hours he was destined to spend alone while she pieced together the life of two, long-gone Indian lovers.
As he entered the highway, he cleared his thoughts, but before long he resumed his earlier contemplation. He had a good idea of the way he’d like to spend those hours, and he’d bet his expensive boots she had the same idea. He was also willing to bet that without too much encouragement, he could have her in his arms and in bed with little thought to those other young lovers.
If it did happen, he’d want to kick himself in the ass. Hard. Real hard. He had to keep the proper perspective in this situation. If he couldn’t, then he damned well had no business being here at all.
****
With a swipe of his elbow, Kent knocked the alarm clock to the floor. He’d been asleep for six hours, but he felt like he had slept for only six minutes. Slinging an arm over his eyes to shut out the late morning sun filtering through the dozen tiny holes in the weathered window shade, he groaned. One of these days he wouldn’t have to get up on a Saturday except when he damn well wanted to.
His stomach growled at its emptiness, even as it heaved at the mere thought of food. A fly landed on the remnants of a day-old ham sandwich on the table next to the bed, circled above his head, and came to rest on the side of his mouth. He slapped, spit, and spewed curses that took his mind off the turbulence in his stomach.
Keeping down his food had suddenly become a big problem. Until recently, he had only the nausea to deal with, and he had always kept it under control. Even Alex had never suspected anything. But now, the time he spent in the bathroom was increasing daily.
Last night had been worse than usual. Now that he thought about it, he had felt increasingly worse day after day for the past month. He needed more and more drugs to keep his pain at the level it was a year ago, where he could bear it. The street prices of the fucking drugs were steadily going up, but his bank account wasn’t. Not yet, anyway.
He eased himself to a sitting position and waited, head in his hands, for the bed to stop swaying. He reached for the glass of water that had been on the table as long as the sandwich and took a few sips, clenched a fistful of sheet in his hands, and let his stomach adjust to the first liquid of the day. Idly, he rubbed the scar on his cheek. Something he did every morning when he awoke. As if he needed the reminder of what he’d been through.
Iraq. Just television battles to most Americans. But the beginning of the end for all the unlucky bastards like himself who lived through the hell of them.
To make it through frontline battles and then be trapped in a fiery barracks was pure irony. That his injury was not battlefield related didn’t make what lay ahead any easier to accept. Actually, being injured off the field made the adjustment to civilian life harder. He had become just a paper hero. Only he and the other losers in their bunks really knew or cared about the horror they’d been through. He’d been shipped to the hospital with the rest of the poor bastards who had lived through the inferno and patched up as best the army could, or cared to, do.
He’d been left with the pain and a need for anything that could take it away. A need that finally ate away any promise of his chance at the great American dream. Again, he passed his hand over the scar on his face, and his stomach knotted from more than the sickness in his gut. He’d never been particularly handsome. Girls hadn’t fallen all over him as a kid or waited breathlessly for his phone call as a teenager. But they hadn’t turned away in revulsion, like they did now.
They hadn’t even seen the scars on the right side of his body that zigzagged down his arm and torso to his knee. He kept them covered with long sleeves and long pants.
He took a few more sips of water and stood. When he felt strong enough, he made his way to the bathroom, wondering as he walked what the rest of his life would be like after everything was over.
Strange how easy the deeds had been so far. First, Cindy. Then, that old crone French. He’d killed before. But the killing hadn’t been personal. He hadn’t known, seen, or touched the enemy. Now was different. He’d actually slept with the enemy. Once, anyway.
In the kitchen, he took the pot out of the refrigerator and set it on the stove, lit the burner, and waited for what remained of the day-old soup to heat. He’d force himself to eat slowly, chipping off the time from something else. Like a shower. He needed nourishment more than he needed to be clean.
He couldn’t afford to be late for work again. He desperately needed the pittance he made. Soon, he’d have enough money to see him through graduation and a decent job, at least. Maybe even beyond.
But for now, he had other things to think about. Other plans to make. Other people to get rid of. People like the arrogant bastard who had become her shadow.
Then, after the shadow disappeared, he’d have her all to himself again.
Chapter Eleven
When they returned from lunch, Alex wasted no time getting back to work. She insisted the television wouldn’t bother her.
So, Beck tuned in to a baseball game, adjusting the volume only loud enough to hear. They were both deep in their respective activities when the doorbell rang.
Alex looked over at Beck, shrugged, and stood from behind the desk. “I’m not expecting anyone.” She started toward the front door, and when he made a move to follow, waved him away. “It’s probably Mr. Millbourne again.”
He ignored her silent command and stood anyway, but instead of following her down the hall, he stationed himself at the doorway where he could see and hear everything that transpired.
“What are you doing here?”
Her quick gasp would have had him at her side in a flash if she hadn’t motioned with a hand behind her back for him to stay where he was.
“I’ve come to talk.” The male voice floated down the hall.
The tone of his voice was not particularly threatening, but the hair on the back of Beck’s neck rose anyway. Only fragments of Alex’s reply, delivered in a hushed voice, reached Beck, the repeated tossing of her wild, blonde curls sending a negative message to whoever was on the other side of the door. When the door swung toward her, she took a quick step backward, the hand behind her back still motioning for him not to interfere.
“Charles, your behavior is really annoying me. I’ve made myself as clear as I possibly can about our relationship.” After a slight pause, she added, “At the moment, I’m entertaining company.”
Beck quickly covered the twenty paces down the hall to stand behind Alex before she could wave him back again. “Need any help, Alex?”
Charles looked from one to the other of them, a slow flush spreading from the V of his open-neck shirt to his smooth-shaved cheeks. He passed his tongue over his lips a couple of times before he spoke, fixing his gaze on Alex. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I need to talk. I didn’t see your car outside, but I saw the light in the den. I came by a couple of nights ago, but—”
“You were here the other night? Out back?”
Beck saw Alex’s breathing accelerate. Her thought was the same as his. The prowler. He fit the old man’s description perfectly. Maybe five nine. Scarcely a hundred sixty pounds. Yeah. The old guy next door might be long in the tooth, but he had the night vision of an owl.
Charles nodded. “I know you’ve been going out to that site, but I took the chance you might be here.”
Alex stiffened her shoulders. “I
’ve asked you not to come by or call.”
Beck stepped to the side.
Charles averted his gaze from Alex to Beck but quickly turned back to Alex. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
That did it. Screw Alex’s little hand flutters. Beck spoke directly to Charles. “How about talking to me?”
The flush on Charles’ face deepened. “Listen, pal—”
“I’m not your pal.” Beck stepped up next to Alex. “I don’t have to listen to a damn thing you have to say. What’s more the lady’s already made it quite clear she doesn’t want you here, so I suggest you leave.”
Charles turned to Alex. “Are you sure?”
Beck took a threatening step forward. The guy was being a royal pain in the ass. If this jerk was someone Alex had dated, he couldn’t imagine why. But he sure as hell could understand why she cut it off.
Alex put a hand on Charles’s arm. “Charles, you and I didn’t hit it off. I tried being friends, but that arrangement didn’t work, either. I really think leaving things as they are would be easier. For both of us.”
Beck held his breath. He wasn’t up to a brawl right here in Alex’s home. But he wouldn’t run from one if that was the only way he could get rid of this guy.
“I’m sorry I bothered you, Alex. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again on campus sometime.” Without another word, Charles turned and walked toward his car.
Alex let out a long sigh. “Well, at least one puzzle is solved.”
Beck draped an arm over her shoulder, and they walked back to the den together. “Yeah, babe, but we’re not out of the woods, yet. We still have all those missing pieces of the other puzzle to put together.”
“We should at least sleep better tonight. I really don’t think he’ll come back.” Alex crossed the room and again took her seat behind the desk.
“You’re doing more work?” Now that the prowler was no dangerous maniac and just some moonstruck jerk that couldn’t take no for an answer, he was much more relaxed and in the mood for sharing quality time. He figured she should be feeling a heck of a lot better now, too.
Alex reached for the sheaf of papers to her left. “Only a little while longer. I want to get as much done as I can before I get busy at the site again. Now that one more thing is off my mind…” She hitched her head toward the front of the house and then lowered it to search in the bottom drawer of the desk.
Beck went over to his favorite chair, sat, and glanced over at Alex. His breath caught in his throat as the light from the desk lamp caught the ends of her curls and set them on fire. Her face was partially hidden, but what he could see was softened by the warm glow of the light as it caught her cheek in shadow. She reminded him of the angels in the picture books his grandma read when he was a little boy—golden and innocent, untouchable, desirable. More desirable than any angel or woman had a right to be.
At that moment, he wanted her so badly he would gladly relinquish a year of his life. But he couldn’t have her. Not yet. Maybe never. Oh, he would eventually make passionate love to her, of that he was certain. But he still wouldn’t have her. Women like her didn’t hook up with men like him. If he even suspected she might, he’d never let it happen. He’d run like hell.
He wasn’t cut out for hanging with women who couldn’t be trusted. He hadn’t met a woman yet who could be trusted when the chips were down. To shut out the face that had haunted his dreams every night, he closed his eyes. But even then, her face drifted before him in that mysterious way images slide behind the eyes. Her face was the last thing he remembered, until he felt her hands at his shoulders and her voice at his ear softly calling his name.
Greedily, he breathed in her scent. Today, she smelled like roses. Yesterday, the scent was lilacs or lavender. He couldn’t remember which. He only knew that every day she smelled like a different, sweetly scented flower.
He was fully awake now, but before he took in his surroundings, he needed the fantasy of believing he was waking from sleep in her arms, her hair soft around his face and her breasts so close to his lips he could touch her nipple with his tongue.
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. Part of the fantasy was real. She was leaning over him, the upper half of her body close enough to touch. The valley between her breasts beckoned. He heeded the call and slid a finger between the soft mounds of flesh. He waited, not daring to breathe.
She moved imperceptibly closer.
He breathed again, his heart in his throat. He ran his other hand up her thigh, all the while watching the way her lids lowered, her breathing deepened, and moisture gathered at the corners of her mouth. His mouth watered for a taste of hers.
As he coaxed her forward with pressure behind her thigh, she read his mind perfectly, opened her mouth and lowered herself to straddle him on the generous club chair. Her thighs clasped his. Her knees were snug at his hips. Jesus, he was already full-blown hard.
When she locked her hands behind his neck, he couldn’t have disengaged his lips from hers if his life depended on it. His heart pounded so hard from the sudden rush of blood through his veins he thought the top of his head would blow apart and render him senseless.
He moved his hand around to the inside of her thigh, and when she yielded, he cupped his palm between her legs. God damn. Why wasn’t she wearing a skirt so he could work his fingers inside her panties and feel her heat? Feel if she was wet for him.
The rest of the thought vanished when she pressed herself harder into his palm, forcing his knuckles into his already swollen flesh. The pain was so pleasurable he nearly exploded right then. Deftly, he slipped his hand from between their bodies. Only zippers separated them now. One second more and they would both go up in flames. Every parry of their tongues, every soft, sexy bite at the inside of his lower lip, and every purr she breathed into his mouth told him she wanted him.
Where to take her? Here, on the chair in the den? Almost impossible. Upstairs? He’d never make it. On the floor? Not where he’d prefer, but on the floor was the easiest and fastest. And he needed her now. He’d make it up to her later, the next time…
He couldn’t hold back the groan that started when the unwanted thought reared its ugly head. Doing this wasn’t right. He would be taking advantage. But the old familiar hunger that required frequent, healthy doses of hot, hard sex told him he’d have her now anyway and pay whatever price his haste demanded later.
Then, just when he’d figured out the best way to get them both down to the floor, that too moral, unwanted part of him got dredged up again and reminded him what he’d been trying to forget. He could not let this encounter be one of his usual quick fucks with someone he liked well enough but didn’t care deeply about.
As he debated the pros and cons of the situation, she settled the matter for him by ending the kiss so abruptly his head fell backward. She stared in amazement or bewilderment—he wasn’t sure which—he was in too agitated a state to accurately interpret any emotion other than his own fierce need to strip off their clothes and get down to business. He certainly wasn’t prepared for the sobs she suppressed by clamping her lips together, forbidding any sounds to pass through them.
Damn it. What was he supposed to do now? Put his arms around her? Hold her close and tell her everything would be all right? Say nothing? Do nothing? Aw, shit. This relationship was too damn complicated. Caring, even a little, about someone you wanted to screw messed up your mind. Not to mention caring did serious damage to your sex drive. “Okay. What’s wrong? What’d I do?” He trailed the finger between her breasts upward and rested his hand on her shoulder while he waited for her answer.
She pulled back far enough so she could look at him. Her lips were still clenched, and her shoulders had lifted along with her chin. “It’s not what you did. It’s what I did or shouldn’t have done. I’ve led you to believe I could…we could….” She looked at the ceiling. “I can’t let anything start between us. We each have our own agenda.”
He pulled in a breath, held it until his he
ad cleared a little, and then exhaled in exasperation. “I understand all that, but we have an agenda right now, and up until a few seconds ago, you were damn ready to follow it.” Her eyes still avoided his as she continued her soliloquy.
“Just as soon as I can convince you all of this interaction has been blown way out of proportion, that it would be best for both of us if you would get on with your life and let me get on with mine, things will settle down for both of us. You can go back to what you had before we met.” Gripping the side arms of the chair, she eased herself from his lap and stood.
His stomach plummeted. He held his breath and waited for her next move, but when none came, he pushed himself off the chair and stood in front of her, waiting patiently until she finally looked at him. He narrowed his eyes. “You know something, babe? You’re the most stubborn, pig-headed, tunnel-visioned woman I ever met. When you get something in that curly blonde head of yours, a chisel is needed to pry it loose.
“Beside the fact I haven’t signed off on this job yet, I kind of like being around you. Something between us clicks. So, I’ll be as stubborn as you. I’m not giving up until I find out if the sparks we make can build the biggest, hottest damn fire since fire was invented.”
She lowered her head. A deep flush covered her face. “Yes,” she admitted, “we do click on some level. But more than that is needed for two people to put together a meaningful relationship. I have to tell you, Beck, right now I can’t take on one more challenge.” She turned away her face. “I can’t get involved with you. I can’t risk another bad relationship.”
He let out an explosion of air. “Is that what you’re worrying about?” He put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a light shake. “Look at me,” he said in a firm but gentle tone. When she did, he continued, “I’m not looking for a relationship—at least not the traditional kind—so you needn’t worry about that. I gave up on the idea of a long-term relationship a long time ago.”
Unearthed Page 13