by Tara Mills
Of course it wasn’t, but he didn’t want to go into it with Chuck just now. Wes was perfectly content quietly basking in the memory of the chemical surge he’d felt at seeing Lauren again. Still, Chuck wasn’t an idiot. He definitely picked up on the attraction. Wes had managed to derail his partner for the time being, but he knew the subject was far from closed.
* * * *
Lauren sighed in defeat. Wes wore his maturity well, damn him. How was she supposed to get over him now, when he looked even more fantastic? Gone was the boy and in his place stood a man, taller perhaps, his masculine body still lean but more substantial, muscular in a way he never was before. His youthful frame now carried the promise of what it once only hinted at. Lauren was lost all over again, this time with a woman’s experience, a woman’s knowledge, a woman’s appreciation, and it made her familiar response to Wes even more powerful.
Her body felt alive again, her circulatory system a veritable superhighway firing her champagne-like blood to every extremity. She couldn’t sit still and she couldn’t walk it off because there was work to do. Unfortunately, she was incapable of concentrating on anything but Wes. Long ago he’d aroused her body and stirred her girlish emotions, but after seeing him today she simply wasn’t equipped to handle the system overload. Without even trying he’d turned her into a basket case all over again. She couldn’t rein her reaction in. She couldn’t even scream or run away and hide from her turbulent emotions. What she needed was a good cleansing cry, then maybe she could find her way back to calm.
Jackie poked her head in the door, her long black curls swinging. “Are you still here? I thought you’d be gone two hours ago.”
Lauren looked at the clock and rubbed her eyes. “I guess I lost track of time.”
Jackie plopped into the chair across the desk and drooped back, letting her hands hang limp over the arms of the chair. “So what’s wrong? You’ve been off all day.”
Lauren glanced evasively out the window and Jackie burst out, “No way. That was him?”
“Him who?”
“Him who…” She snorted. “Give me a break. Him! The guy you’ve been carrying a silent suffering torch for all these years.”
Lauren clunked her forehead onto her desk and covered the back of her head with her arms. “Yes,” she groaned.
“So that’s it. I can see how he got you all twisted up years ago. He’s smoking hot. What are you gonna do about him?”
Lauren looked up, supporting her face on her hands. “Who says I have to do anything?”
“Well, aren’t you a little chicken shit?”
Lauren scowled. “Just what do you expect me to do, march up to him and say, ‘oh, by the way, did you know you’ve had a starring role in my fantasy life for fifteen years’? He’d call in the padded truck, or maybe take out a restraining order against me.”
“Only if you start following him around with binoculars.” Jackie laughed. “Honey, honestly, Hot Shot looked pretty jazzed to see you. Trust me on this one. He was checking you out so hard he should’ve strained something.”
“Wes has never looked at me like that. Ever.”
“You’re blind or in denial, or…I don’t know what.”
Lauren chanced a hopeful peek at Jackie. “You think?”
“I’ve got eyes, and so does he from what I could see, and they were fixed on you—big time. Although, it probably would have been better if you weren’t standing there looking like you’d just swallowed your gum or something.”
“Cut me some slack. I wasn’t prepared. I never expected to see Wes again, so I was in shock, not to mention the timing totally sucked. We had a family to welcome.”
Jackie leaned forward, her plump half smile and endearing dimple making an appearance. “So has he changed much?”
Lauren moaned. “Oh God, he’s even better. This is so unfair! As if the Wes in my head weren’t enough to contend with, now I have to try and cope with the new and improved version?”
“You should call him up and invite him out for a drink or something.”
“Oh sure, let’s just see what I blurt out after I’ve had a glass of wine—and that’s the best scenario. The one that really scares the hell out of me is where I launch myself at the guy and give him his own personal lap dance.”
Jackie burst out laughing and slapped the arm of her chair. “You? Miss prim and proper? Girl, I’d pay good money to see that!” She was laughing so hard she had to dab her eyes to save her makeup. “Honey, I’m just glad to hear you have a fantasy life. It helps somehow.”
“Very amusing.”
“Well, you are kind of dull.”
Lauren hit her with wounded eyes, and Jackie held up a pacifying hand.
“In a nice way, but you know what I mean.”
* * * *
Wes leaned back against Sherry’s counter. His sister closed the oven door and ground her fist into her spine.
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.
He took a contemplative sniff and nodded. “I can’t turn down lasagna.” His eyes lingered on her protruding belly and he shook his head. “I still can’t get over it. My little sister is going to be a mom.”
She laughed. “There’s been a development. Check this out.” She pulled up her shirt and flashed her belly button. “My inny is now an outy. Pretty funky, huh?”
He stared, fascinated. “Does it hurt?”
She laughed. “Not yet, but who knows if that’ll change?”
“Can I?” he asked, his hands reaching toward her, his fingers spread wide.
“Sure.”
He grabbed her belly like it was a basketball and the baby shifted. Wes looked up with an excited grin. “Did you see that? It’s so cool.” He took his hands away so Sherry could drop her shirt. “One question, how do you sleep?”
“My back hurts most of the time now, so not as good as I’d like.”
“From what I hear it’s only going to get worse.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m going to be a walking zombie for a few years. I don’t know how I’m going to manage when I go back to work after maternity leave.”
“You’ll handle it fine. Better than I would.”
Sherry smirked. “Your turn will come. You’re already interested, so I don’t see you holding off on breeding.”
His entire body shuddered. “Take it back.”
“Don’t be such a baby. You know I’m right.”
“Enough,” he warned. “What can I do to help?”
“Aw, you’re so sweet, but Ken’s got everything under control. He’s been awesome now that the shock of impending fatherhood has worn off.”
Wes bit his lip, trying hard not to laugh. “I meant, what can I do to help with dinner?”
“Oh. Why don’t you get the garlic bread ready to go into the oven and I’ll go use the bathroom for the five-hundredth time today?”
She waddled out and Wes went on a scavenger hunt. He looked up when he heard the garage door opening. Papa Bear was home.
* * * *
Wes grabbed a hunk of garlic bread out of the basket and said casually, “I saw Lauren today.”
As expected, Sherry’s head shot up. “You did?”
“Yep. Did you know she’s the director of the Gloria Fields Crisis Center?”
“No. I knew she was thinking about getting more involved with battered women after Sarah’s death but that was about the time she closed herself off from me too. I couldn’t keep her from drifting away. How is she?”
“She looks good.” Beautiful. “I gave her your number and told her you’re expecting. Hopefully she’ll call.”
“I really miss her.”
Sherry’s husband Ken reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”
She laughed and cried at the same time. “It’ll pass in a minute. Don’t mind me.”
Ken looked at Wes and smiled. “Hormones.”
* * * *
It was after seven by the tim
e Lauren walked into her quiet apartment and locked the door behind her. Stepping out of her shoes as she walked she went into her little galley kitchen and dropped her keys on the counter. She gave the mail in her hand only a cursory glance before dropping that as well.
In one step she was at the refrigerator. She grabbed a bottle of water and wandered back to her bedroom. Her favorite lounging pajamas were lying across the unmade bed where she’d left them. She snatched them up and took them into the bathroom with her, kicking the door closed behind her as she reached for the shower curtain.
Thirty minutes later, Lauren pulled the Lean Cuisine out of the microwave and sighed. She wasn’t hungry but since she skipped lunch and only ate a banana for breakfast she had to eat something. Picking up her mug of hot tea, she shuffled into the living room and dropped to her knees in front of the coffee table so she could watch the recording.
She never enjoyed seeing herself on television but this was important. Reviewing interviews and spots helped her hone her message and get the word out. Fundraising and public relations took up most of her time these days, and though it was important, she felt pulled away from those she’d been driven to help in the first place. As director and passionate advocate for battered women and children she naturally had less time to interact with them herself now.
She hit the play button and watched the public access interview, scrutinizing her answers. She wished the host had asked better questions or at least allowed her to take the interview in a different direction. Her PowerPoint presentations were always more effective but with a limited reach. She hoped this interview would bring in more funds by reaching a broader audience but she had her doubts.
When it was finished Lauren shut off the television and took her dishes back to the kitchen. Standing at the counter, she ate a yogurt and thought about Sarah. Two years older than her, Sarah was the quintessential first born. She was a high achiever, beautiful, athletic, popular, and vivacious. Lauren hero-worshipped her big sister. Sarah was one of those rare people who could connect with anyone, no matter what age or social sphere. She was kindness itself.
Lauren, on the other hand, was shy and quiet. She was a silent observer, perfectly content to be the wallflower to Sarah’s blazing glory. She never envied her sister’s social success. Then Sarah met Will. He was handsome and equally confident. Lauren had watched with growing concern as he singled Sarah out and slowly separated her from her other friends
It wasn’t unusual for Sarah to make more time for a boy when she liked him, but she never neglected her closest friends until Will. She dropped sports, cut back on her hours at the pharmacy, and allowed her grades to slip. Unfortunately, their parents weren’t much help either. Their immediate fear was that Sarah might be pregnant or on drugs, but once reassured, they were content to believe this phase would be short lived. They chose to trust their daughter.
Lauren remembered how Will would phone to check up on Sarah when they weren’t together. If she was out, he wanted Lauren to tell him where Sarah was, what she was doing, who she was with, and when she’d be back. His invasive questions rattled Lauren. She didn’t trust him, didn’t like him. He was outwardly sweet to Sarah, but she was crying more in private, crumbling in ways Lauren didn’t understand.
Lauren understood it all now. Will was methodically chipping away at Sarah’s self-confidence, making her distrust herself, her instincts, and crave his dwindling approval more and more.
Lauren never cried at weddings, but she’d cried through Sarah’s. She watched her sister pledge her love to Will with a sinking heart and a pessimism she couldn’t banish.
Sarah and her son were gone now, dead nearly four years, and Will’s parole hearing was coming up. Lauren could hardly stand it. He would get his life back, probably move on to another unsuspecting woman, while her sister and nephew were ashes under the apple tree in her parents’ yard.
Lauren needed to do more, because Sarah did everything she should have to protect herself and her child. She filed restraining orders, changed the locks, and kept everyone informed about her movements, and still he found a way to get to her by breaking into the house one night and brutally raping Sarah then choking the life out of her. Even more shocking was the discovery that Will did all this while their son’s body lay cooling in his bed, his innocent, perfect face covered by his favorite pillow.
Will had been out on bail at the time, and he shouldn’t have been. While abusive men were a constant threat, they could be particularly dangerous in the interim between arrest and trial. Yet the system was slow to respond. Laws weren’t changed, bails remained too low to hold them until their court dates, and lives were irreparably changed forever.
Shaken by her trip down memory lane, Lauren went to check the locks on her front door a third time before heading to bed. The only way she could sleep nowadays was with sound playing in the background. White noise was fine. She preferred the wind or surf. Tonight, she chose surf.
Slipping between the sheets, she turned off the lamp then hunkered down until only her forehead showed above the covers. She knew it was crazy but she needed to be overlooked in her bed by whoever might break in. That’s why she never moved, never changed position during the night. If she could make herself invisible, she would. She didn’t know what a peaceful night’s sleep was anymore.
* * * *
Seven forty-two in the morning and Wes and Chuck stood staring at a damaged privacy fence with the red-faced homeowner cursing his head off beside them. No question the man had gotten a nasty shock when he’d gone out to his stoop to pick up his newspaper thirty minutes earlier.
Wes bent and retrieved the battered license plate lying in the grass. “Nice of him to leave his calling card.” He straightened and faced the angry man. “We’ll follow up on this. You’ll be hearing from us.”
“I certainly hope so,” the man blustered, trailing them to their car.
Chuck slipped behind the steering wheel while Wes called in the plate. As soon as they had the address they went hunting.
The car was easy to spot. The idiot didn’t hide it.
Getting out of their unmarked car, they walked around to the front of the suspect’s car, noting the damaged grill and bumper. The right headlight and turn signal were completely gone. The floor inside the vehicle was littered with empty beer cans, both front and back. Evidently, this was not the guy’s first offense.
Wes shook his head and walked to the front door with Chuck right on his heels. Wes rang the bell first but when nothing happened he pounded on the door. It took several minutes before a bleary-eyed man opened it to them. He was quite a sight in his saggy boxers, heavy stubble, and funky bed hair. He tried to focus on them while he scratched his furry belly but his red eyes didn’t look cooperative. The guy pushed open the screen door and poked his head out. His breath was noxious enough to drop an elephant, and Wes had to force himself not to take a step back.
“Yeah?” the man asked stupidly.
“Mr. Sullivan, can we come in?”
* * * *
An hour later Wes and Chuck left the station. Wes clipped his cuffs back onto his belt and headed over to the driver’s side.
“Now what?” he asked across the roof.
Chuck gave it some thought. “I know it’s early but I could eat. Vickie’s grapefruit diet is killing me. I need a big juicy burger, and if you sell me out to my wife I’ll have to kill you.”
Wes laughed. “Noted. A hamburger sounds good.”
“But let’s walk over. It’ll give the car more time to air out. Goddamned fumes were making my eyes burn.”
Wes stepped back with his hands up, key ring bouncing against his palm, and grinned. “Now you’re talking. You sure you can handle a Broiler burger? Maybe we should find you a bib?”
Chuck snorted. “The wife will never know if I roll up my sleeves. Hell, I’ll open my shirt if I have to.”
“My day’s getting better and better,” said Wes dryly.
They cut ac
ross the parking lot, hopped a couple of curbs, and after a brief wait at the crosswalk, finally placed their orders at the window. The enticing smell of caramelized onion, sizzling beef, and crispy fries hung in the air. Wes’s mouth was already watering when he picked up his tray and they claimed an empty picnic table.
Wes bit into his burger, then tugged a napkin out of the dispenser on the table, stopping a drip before it reached his watch. He glanced up at his partner and snickered at all the napkins strategically poking out between his buttons. At least the guy was still dressed.
“So, you start teaching tonight?” Chuck asked, munching a fry.
“Right.” Wes shook his head. “It’s weird how some things just seem to work out, like me dropping by the gym and finding out they were already looking for someone to take the class.” He took another bite, mulling it over as he chewed. Swallowing, he reached for his glass, using the straw as a pointer. “You should come too.”
Chuck screwed up his face in distaste. “No way. Unlike you, I have a woman who would miss me if I didn’t come home right away.”
“Rub it in.”
“Every chance I get.” He popped a pickle into his mouth. “You really should give that woman at the shelter a call. It’s pretty obvious she floated your boat. What’s her name again?” He thought about it for a second and snapped his fingers. “Lauren.”
Wes set his burger down and blotted the corner of his mouth as it curled up. “Way ahead of you, big guy.”
“Good. There was something happening there, no denying it.”
Wes reached for his soda. “Is that right?”
“Most definitely.”
Wes grinned and slipped his straw between his lips, allowing that comment to be the last thing said on the subject.
Chapter 3
Lauren’s afternoon meeting at the United Way stretched into three hours, so by the time she got back to Gloria Fields there was little time left for anything but returning a few phone calls. If she hustled she could just make her evening aerobics class, but having missed the last two, she didn’t exactly feel inspired to race to this one. Lauren decided to skip it and just go home.