April 1, 2003
Salem, Oregon
For the first time in her life, Sarah was having a happy birthday. There had been a few false starts in jobs where advancement, for one reason or another, didn’t happen. Those false starts had given her experience, though, and a resume full of glowing recommendations.
Finally, her hard work had paid off when she was hired by Bryan Chesterson, a city councilman in Portland. She would be his administrative assistant while he made a bid to move up to the Oregon state senate. He was young and single with dark good looks and a charismatic personality. His family had old money, and his father sat on the appellate bench of the state court. Bryan’s connections and his seat on the town council had garnered him the support of the local police and fire departments. He appeared to be the front-runner in the primary election to be held in twenty months.
Sarah was thrilled with becoming an important member of his campaign and threw herself into her job, working long hours as she traveled the state with his entourage. Bryan was a born politician. His views were slightly to the right of center, and Sarah felt his campaign platform reflected his moderate opinions. In her weekly calls to her mom, who still lived in the trailer park with Mary Jo, Sarah gushed her admiration for the man she was sure would be Oregon’s next junior state Senator.
No one was more surprised than Sarah when Bryan took more than a passing interest in her.
Two months before the election, Bryan and Sarah were working late smoothing out the final version of his platform. They’d ordered in from the local Chinese restaurant, and while they ate, Sarah went over the demographics she had kept track of on one of her many spreadsheets.
Bryan stood behind her chair and followed her explanations. He leaned forward to get a better view of her laptop screen.
“So you see why we need to make a bigger push to win more young females to your side,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she turned her head, which brought her mouth within inches of his. She leaned back to put more space between them.
“Right now, I’m only concerned with winning the approval of one young female,” he murmured. “Are you going to vote for me, Sarah?” His dark gaze roamed her face pausing on her mouth, then returning to her eyes.
Sarah’s heart sped up. “Of course you have my vote, Mr. Chesterson. I believe in you and know you’ll be a fantastic senator.” He smelled so good up close, and his five o’clock shadow turned his handsome face a bit more roguish. Her mouth went dry and her eyes rounded in surprise when Bryan closed the distance between them and kissed her. “Mr. Chesterson, I—”
“Bryan, Sarah. I want to hear my first name on your lips.” He kissed her again.
All logical thought fled. The ten-year difference in their ages Sarah had used to keep her mind from going in exactly this direction now didn’t seem so large. She knew he had no steady girlfriend but often appeared at social functions with a rotating pick from a group of young, hip, wealthy socialites. Women far out of her league. Sarah never dreamed he might see her as anything other than a campaign worker.
“Don’t act so surprised, Sarah. Haven’t you noticed how attracted I am to you?”
She shook her head slowly, at a loss for words.
“You’re beautiful, Sarah. And smart as a whip. A professional who’s doing more for this campaign than all the rest of the staff put together.”
“Thank you, M— Bryan.” She bit her lip and blushed furiously. “I never imagined you would notice me, other than as a hard worker who believes in you.”
Bryan took her hands in his and drew her to her feet. “Then it’s past time for me to show you how I feel about you.” He tugged her closer and kissed her more deeply as his hands slid down her back and brought her hips against him.
Holy crap! She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against his chest, her head swimming from the assault of his pheromones, which had unleashed her own very private and tightly repressed fantasies.
By three-thirty a.m., when she unlocked the door to her apartment, she knew a whole new chapter was opening in her life. An exciting, wonderful chapter.
Two weeks later, Sarah had her earbuds in as she typed up notes from Bryan’s last speech. She was hurrying to finish so that she and Bryan could leave for his apartment, something that had gone from occasional to, well, maybe not regular, but certainly more frequent. She was so engrossed, she didn’t hear Bryan come down the hall to her office and lean in the doorway. Finally sensing being watched, she glanced up and found him studying her with a smile.
She removed her earbuds. “I’m almost finished. Give me another fifteen minutes.”
“Hurry, Sarah. I’m impatient to get you all to myself.”
His eyes held a hot, sexy gleam that made her insides go gooey. She shooed him out of her office with a flick of her fingers. “Don’t stand there and watch me. It will only make me take longer. I’ll be along in a few minutes.” She stuck the earbuds back in and resumed typing.
She finished, saved the file, and stowed the earbuds in her desk drawer. As she shut down her computer, she heard raised voices coming from Bryan’s office.
“Don’t think you can just shunt me aside and replace me with that redheaded beard I know you’re banging every chance you get.”
Sarah started down the hall toward Bryan’s office but paused as she listened to his reply. Who was that, anyway? She and Bryan had been very discreet, or so she had thought.
“Listen, Tony, you know as well as I do that our little liaison was just a passing fancy. Neither of us made any promises about a long-term relationship.”
“But you said . . . you told me we were so good together. You know I thought that meant we had something special.”
“And you know that coming out in the middle of a campaign is tantamount to political suicide, so stop pushing me.”
Sarah held her breath, her thoughts spinning wildly. This couldn’t be real. Bryan had had an affair with Tony Sullivan? He was gay? Or maybe bi? Holy crap! And I’m nothing more than convenient camouflage.
She turned and staggered back to her office, and collapsed behind her desk. Tony’s voice had become more strident, and she had no trouble hearing him even this far away.
“That’s not true anymore, Bry. Public opinion has changed a lot in the past couple of years. Coming out wouldn’t ruin your chances of winning this election. In fact, it might actually give you a boost in the polls. Think about it, Bry. Otherwise someone might make a few bucks leaking the story to the media.”
Sarah quickly put her earbuds back in and rebooted her computer. If Bryan came to find her she didn’t want him to know she’d overheard that conversation.
Now she had to figure out an excuse to break their date for tonight.
Because there was no way in hell she was sleeping with Bryan ever again.
Two days later, Tony Sullivan “jumped” to his death from the roof of their office building.
And Bryan began to question her excuses to keep postponing their next date.
Amanda and Dev were getting married. As happy as she was for the couple, the news only reminded Marjorie that she would never have that kind of joy. Sighing, she put those thoughts out of her mind and concentrated on Mandy and Dev’s big day.
They wanted a no-frills wedding, so the only guests for the actual ceremony would be both sets of parents, Chris Majewski, the best man, Zoe, the maid of honor, plus Jeff and Marjorie.
Dev’s parents and Amanda’s mom and step-dad were coming to stay at her B and B.
Marjorie offered to host a casual reception so the people who worked at Dev’s radio station could come celebrate with them. It would be a casual affair with burgers and hot dogs, salads and beer, a modest wedding cake, and champagne for a toast, of course.
She had to prepare a menu and decide on
decorations. Zoe, one-half of the A to Z Event Planning company, would be by soon to help her with those. The rehearsal dinner would be at the marina restaurant, but Marjorie was pulling out all the stops for breakfasts during the parents’ stay.
Her cell phone rang, and Zoe’s image appeared on the screen. “Hi, Zoe. How are things at the gallery?” After their grand opening on Memorial Day weekend, Zoe had been bubbling with good news. It seemed all of her friends had significant others and wonderful futures ahead. She had . . . Marjorie mentally kicked herself. I should just be glad to be alive. “If it’s too busy over there for you to get away, I can stop in on my way to the grocery store.”
“No, I have help here now, so I can take a break. I’ll be over in about fifteen minutes, okay?”
“Wonderful. I have tea and a fresh batch of cookies.”
“Oh, you do know my weakness, Marjorie. I have a surprise for you, too. See you in a few.”
Marjorie gathered the items she’d bought for the tables, then poured iced tea and put out the cookie samples she planned to have along with the wedding cake from Olivia’s bakery.
Zoe came to the back door, and Marjorie let her in. “I’m going to follow your lead as far as decorations go, Zoe, since you’re the event planner.”
Zoe shook her head ruefully. “We have to keep it simple. Amanda’s been adamant about wanting casual, relaxed, and un-fussy. She only agreed to the reception here because she knew the guys at the radio station would be insulted if they didn’t get to celebrate a bit.”
“Yeah, Lance did mention that Andy and Neal are going around grinning like idiots and acting as though they were responsible for getting the two of them together.”
Zoe selected several cookies from the assortment Marjorie pointed to and began to sample them. “Ooh! These are good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of coconut macaroon. “No doubt Andy will take a slew of pictures and post them on the station’s website. Which reminds me, have you seen the web site he put together for the gallery? It’s fantastic.” Zoe tried a chocolate chunk cookie next.
“I had no idea Andy was a website designer.”
“I’m telling you, that man is your go-to guy for anything techy. He put pics from our Grand Opening on the home page and told me I should talk to all the artisans about selling their items on line as well as in the gallery. Are you up for that, Marjorie? The picture of you showing a customer one of your necklaces came out really good. Next time you get a chance, check out the website and tell me what you think, okay?”
“There’s a picture of me on your website?” Marjorie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Zoe, you should have asked me first. I don’t want that kind of publicity!”
“Why on earth not? The more people who see your pieces, the more you’ll sell. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Zoe frowned. “I thought you’d be thrilled to get a little spotlight after all you’ve done for me.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I love that you thought of me. And I’d be happy to have some of my pieces displayed on your site. Truly.
Just as long as my picture isn’t there. I have to see that picture and make sure it doesn’t resemble me. Especially the “old” me. Otherwise I’ll have to ask Zoe to take it down, which will only make her wonder even more why I’m so camera-shy.
What a mess. She’d been sure she dodged the newspaper reporter when he had taken pictures but didn’t realize Andy got pictures for the website, too. Marjorie forced a smile and offered Zoe another cookie. She worried too much.
But she couldn’t help feeling like a coal miner whose canary had just keeled over.
Chapter 6
Marjorie grabbed her flashlight and some spare batteries and raced across the yard. Within two steps, she was soaked through from the downpour, her hair plastered down her back in a tangled mess. Dark clouds roiled overhead, the lightning flashes coming closer and closer together, thunder crashing right behind each burst. She ran up the wooden stairs to Lance’s apartment and knocked on the door.
“Lance, it’s Marjorie. The power’s out.” Duh. He probably could tell that already since his windows showed no sign of light. Marjorie Mathews, master of the obvious. “I brought you a flashlight and some batteries.”
No response.
She put her ear to the door and then banged on it again, harder. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. It was eight o’clock, and he never left for work before ten so she knew he was in there. She listened again. She hated standing out on the tiny landing with the lightning flashing all around her. The door swung open just as another bolt sizzled across the sky, its tendrils flaring out and lighting up the world with a million kilowatts of bright white light.
Silhouetted against the darkness, Lance filled the doorway, his broad shoulders and well-muscled chest bare, his chiseled six-pack disappearing into gray gym shorts. Damn, he was a fine specimen. His hips just barely kept those shorts from sliding down his long legs . . . Marjorie forced her gaze back to his face. His eyes were wild and angry and his jaw was clenched hard enough to make her own teeth hurt.
Darkness snapped back followed by an enormous boom of thunder.
“Lance, I—”
Before she could finish she felt his hand clamp around her arm and jerk her into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. The toe of her sandal caught on the threshold and she lost her balance. In less than a second she was spun around and hauled against the hard chest she had just admired, while Lance used one arm to pin both of hers to her sides, and the other to put a choke hold around her neck. The flashlight clattered to the floor, its beam making crazy shadows leap and spin on the walls as it rolled across the floor. It came to rest under his bed, where the disheveled covers muted its light to a faint glow.
Lance murmured into her ear, his voice dark and menacing. “Who are you? What are you here for?” He increased the pressure on her throat.
If that maneuver was supposed to produce answers it had the exact opposite effect. Marjorie could barely breathe let alone speak. She tried to lean her head back to loosen his grip and get more air, but he only closed his arm more tightly around her. In a moment, she would pass out. She struggled to raise her arms. Not a chance. His were like steel bands. A faint ringing began in her ears and dark dots danced before her eyes.
She was definitely going to take that woman’s defensive course next time the ‘Y’ in Salisbury offered it.
Assuming she lived that long.
Using the only weapon she had, she stomped as hard as she could on his bare toes. He grunted but didn’t loosen his hold on her throat. Okay, that was all she had. She couldn’t believe he’d actually kill her, even though she now suspected he was caught in one of his flashbacks. She mimicked fainting—not hard since she was almost there anyway—her knees buckled, her muscles relaxed, and her head fell back on his shoulder.
He released his chokehold and let her slide to the floor, but kept both her wrists manacled with one of his big hands. For the next minute, she concentrated on increasing the oxygen content in her blood.
Her hands trembled and her heart pounded, partly due to her own private flashback. It had been months since she’d allowed herself to remember Lenny, but the rough handling of the past few minutes brought back the physical responses Bryan’s security chief had provoked. Marjorie shook like the leaves on the oak tree she’d passed in the yard. She had no idea how to handle this situation. I’ve worried all this time about Lenny, but now I’ll die at the hands of a friend who has PTSD? How ridiculous is that?
The storm seemed to stall directly overhead. Lightning flared continuously with its crackle and spit instantly followed by rolling crashes of thunder. Try as she might, she couldn’t control her startle reflex. The second time she flinched, Lance spoke again.
“You may as well open your eyes. I know you’re conscious.”
She obliged, and freaked out all over again at his icy stare. This was not the same man who had rented this apartment from her for the past four months. This was Mr. Hyde, and she wanted Dr. Jekyll back. Right now. She glanced around the dimly lit space. All of the windows had blackout curtains pulled tightly across them so that the flares of light were barely visible through the gaps. The curtains did nothing to mute the noise however. She wished the damn storm would move on. Quickly. She trembled all over and her own sweat mixed with the rain that soaked her clothing.
“Did you kill the dog?”
Kill the dog? Holy crap. She shook her head. “No.”
“Don’t fuck with me, woman. I want to know who killed Spike.” He gave her wrists a little shake.
She shuddered at the menace his bunched muscles and narrowed eyes projected. “I don’t know who killed your dog. I didn’t even know you had a dog, and I certainly would never kill one. I like dogs.”
He picked up the hem of her gauze top which dripped cold water on her belly. Goosebumps cascaded down her arms.
“You’re all wet. Why?”
Oh boy. She glanced from side to side, not able to meet those killer eyes. “I’m wet from the rain.”
“We’re in the middle of the desert, woman. There is no rain.”
Well, shit. Marjorie forced herself to stare directly at him again. She now understood the term scared spitless. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow. And she could hardly think straight with the constant explosions of thunder overhead. This was probably the wrong move but . . . “There is rain.” She tilted her jaw toward the dark curtains. “Go look out the window. It’s pouring.”
His grip tightened on her wrists and she felt her bones grind together. Ow.
“Don’t give me that shit. You think I’m stupid?” he snarled.
Theirs by Chance Page 6