by Laura Storme
type of behavior before and it always meant trouble
in some fashion.
"So, Alex, diving in with both feet are we," asked
Allen from his desk, sending a glance at Francine as
she bent over to pick up some object too small for
Alex to see, but necessary for her to pick up and
allow Allen a glance at her upper thighs. Alex
sighed softly at the action.
"I'm trying to. There is a lot more to understand
than I thought. But I love a challenge. "I'm sure you do," responded Francine, "A helpful
hint, Alex, you might want to dress down. We
don't wear too many suits around here.
"I'll take that into consideration," Alex replied
acidly.
Francine sauntered into James' office and closed
the door. Alex peered around the cubicle wall that
separated her from Allen to a window that
connected Allen and James. Alex heard Francine
giggle as James closed the blinds on the
window. She had a feeling she knew what was
going on, but kept her mouth shut and her mind
open as she continued to rummage through her pile.
Chapter 2
Alex had completed an exhausting month at the
factory. More often than not, she was staying late
and finishing old projects so that a new one could
be begun the next day. She had taken all of the
knowledge that Jeff, James, Larry and Allen were
able to give her and put it to good use. The offices
and factory were running a much more smoothly
and even Francine had to admit that Alex was good.
James worked late every night, too. It wasn't so
much that he had work to do, but it gave him an
excuse to be near Alex. She had refused to give an
inch in the office romance department and objected
to his carrying on with Francine even if it was
silently. Jean had moved out of their house and into her father's and he no longer liked to be there
alone. It was too big for just him and the dogs and
he considered selling it more than once.
Alex had just finished clearing her desk for the last
time, when the intercom on her phone
buzzed. She had thought that she was alone in the
offices because she hadn't heard anyone moving
around for a while. A glance at her watch told her
it was past six and her stomach reminded her that
something more substantial than Pepsi and half a
sandwich was necessary.
"This is Alex," she said into the receiver.
"Hi, can you come in here, please," said the
voice. It took two seconds for Alex's brain to click
on the name to go with it. She was still having
difficulty matching faces, names and voices. Jeff didn't express any concern, though. He knew it
would take time for her to learn them.
"Sure, I'll be right in," she replied, then hung up the
receiver and made her way into James' office.
James had just finished replacing the receiver and
calming his nerves, when Alex came in. He had
come to know her a little better in the past
month. He was impressed with her work even
though he only requested a few items here and
there. His reaction to her when they shook hands
that first time came as a shock to him, particularly
on the heels of his pending divorce from
Jean. When Jean had served him with divorce
papers, James had admitted to himself that he
would probably be spending the rest of his life
alone. He had understood her reasoning behind the request for divorce. Jean had made her point,
when she had discovered his passion for sampling
the women in his travels and as much time as he
had spent at home, Jean was better off for getting
the divorce.
"What's up?"
"Close the door, please," he requested.
"There's nobody here, James, accept for the second
shift machine shop. I'd prefer to leave it open,"
said Alex, remembering the recurring incident that
took place every day since she arrived. Francine
emerging from James' office about 20 minutes after
going in and flushed and a little rumpled. Alex
hadn't thought about much else since. She had
indeed felt the tension between her and James
since they met, but didn't feel comfortable playing office games with him. She would let Francine
handle that.
"Is there a particular reason," he queried, lighting
another cigarette.
Alex glanced at the ashtray and saw the pink lipstick
that Francine favored outlining the edge of one.
"Nope. Just prefer it that way, thank you.
"Fine. I just wanted to let you know, that I think
you're doing a fabulous job. I haven't made that
clear and I'm sorry. How are you doing out there?
Have enough to do?"
"Yeah, I'm fairly busy. I found a few things
confusing, but everyone seems more than willing to
help me.
"Any questions about the machine shop?" "Not that I can think of. Are there any goals you
would like to see met for that area?"
"A few; would you like to discuss them over dinner,"
asked James.
Alex pressed herself further into the back of her
chair at that question. She had seen the wedding
ring on James' hand when they met previously, now
it was removed. Alex heard the rumors of James'
pending divorce, but with his ongoing liaisons with
Francine so fresh in her mind, she refused to give in.
"I can't. I still have some unpacking to do and I
need to go shopping for some casual
clothes. Francine keeps pointing out that I'm
overdressed. James looked slightly abashed at the mention of
Francine's name. He thought she suspected
something, if not knew all together. It wasn't
much of a secret in the plant about Francine and
James. That didn't help him. James couldn’t
ignore the deeper desire that caused him to feel
something for Alex. He had ignored her mention
of a fiancée on purpose. He still was unsure of his
emotions which were running the gamut from
devastation from Jean to love reborn in Alex.
"Can you detail it in a memo or at least a list and
leave it on my desk? I really do want to get going,"
asked Alex as she stood to leave.
"Yeah, I'll do that," James responded. Alex
detected the note of rejection in his voice and
ignored it. She had just walked out of his office and back to her cube to collect her things when she
heard a noise from the reception area. She
glanced at James' office wondering if he had heard
it, but when no movement came from his office, she
ventured into the reception area.
Francine had shut off the lights which plunged the
room in total darkness. Alex was still shaky about
the layout of the office and stubbed her left foot on
the copier as she passed it.
"Dammit," she whispered.
Suddenly, a hand snaked out of the darkness and
grabbed Alex's right arm jerking her against a
hardened chest and belly. Alex let out a small<
br />
scream that was stifled by a sweaty hand over her
mouth. "Who are you," whispered a rough voice in her ear
as the hand moved inches from her mouth for her
to reply.
"Alexandra Chambers," she whimpered in a quaky
voice. Alex tried to be calm. She knew that
James was still in his office, because she had just
left him and not heard the door to the plant
open. Her captor wasn't much taller that she was
and could feel the scratch from his beard or stubble
on her neck. Alex could smell the scents of
aftershave, cigarettes, coffee, sweat and machinery
oil mingle with the smell of her own fear as her
assailants breath labored in her ear. His left hand
clamped her mouth, holding her close to him and
his right hand roamed freely over her body, feeling
the softness of her silk blouse and cotton
skirt. The hand continued to slide down her curves until she felt it catch the hem of her
skirt. As it was slowly raised, she felt the
roughness of the knuckles on her naked thigh and a
cool breeze as the skin was exposed. Alex then
felt the callused palm of the hand caressing the skin
underneath. The unknown man inhaled at her
softness and pulled her closer to him. Alex felt the
growing hardness at the apex of his thighs and
prepared to give another scream when the clamped
hand finally freed her mouth again.
"Why are you here so late," he said, moving the
hand from her mouth to her right breast squeezing
it harshly.
Alex didn't hesitate and let out an ear shattering
scream. Abruptly, she was let go and shoved to
the hard floor in the office. James was putting on his coat to leave, when he
heard the scream. At first, he thought it was a
piece of metal straining against one of the machines
in the shop, but then he recognized that it was
coming from the direction of the offices.
"Alex," he whispered and bolted through the door
into the reception area.
Alex was sitting on the floor on the verge of tears
when the lights came on suddenly. James felt his
stomach clench as the worst thoughts came to
mind. James knelt in front of her and brushed the
hair from her eyes with one hand as the other lifted
her chin up.
"What happened? Are you okay? Can you get
up," he asked anxiously. Alex shook her head dumbly and allowed James to
help her up off the floor of the reception area. He
led her to one of the chairs that sat in the room and
retrieved a glass of water from the cooler
nearby. Alex sipped from the cup with shaking
hands and sank into the softness of the chair.
James stood by and watched her tremble from
whatever had happened. Without touching her,
James surveyed her for physical injuries and noted
the tear in her blouse that exposed her right arm
and the grease stains on her chest. He also caught
sight of the faint scratches on her outer right thigh.
"Alex, can you tell me what happened," James
asked anxiously
"No. I want to go home," she said. Alex stood up
and fought to control her balance. James had extended a hand to help her steady herself, but she
batted it away, "Please, James, I just want to go
home," she repeated in gulps as she moved to her
desk on shaky legs, retrieved her keys and purse and left the plant.
Chapter 3
Alex sat dumfounded in her car for several minutes
before starting the engine. Eager to be away from
the plant, she tore out of the driveway and let her
car do the driving to her small house not far from
the plant. Upon arriving, she stumbled in the
front door dropping the contents of her hands and
arms onto the couch.
The house was small, but serviceable, she didn't
plan on needing more space than just for
herself. The entrance, where she stood, brought
her directly into the living room. A doorway on
the other side of the room led her to the dining
room, small kitchen and the stairs. Briefly, she
glanced about her living room with its fancy furniture. Her furniture had gone into storage
when she moved in with Tad and then brought it
with her to Ashmore Valley. The overstuffed
couch, chaise lounge, entertainment unit and table
set had looked fashionable in her townhouse in
Springfield, but they looked out of place here.
As twilight continued to fall outside, still on unsure
legs, Alex walked to the kitchen and removed a
bottle of vodka from the cupboard. She quickly
poured herself two fingers of the Stoli into a rock
glass and downed it quickly. Alex had never been
much of a drinker, but found that the alcohol
calmed her still shaking body. Alex sat down at
the table in the dining room and poured another
drink. She drank this glass slower as the alcohol
moved through her veins. She was still shocked
and a little more than slightly frightened of the incident at the factory. Alex caught sight of her
reflection in the reflection of the sliding glass door
that led from the dining room to the patio in back of
the house. Her disheveled appearance served as a
wake up call to reality making her move from the
table to climb the stairs for a hot bath.
Alex sat in the tub and scrubbed herself for the
third time. It seemed no matter how hard she
scrubbed both her hair and her body she could still
feel the touch and smell of her assailant. The
sounds of her attacker's breathing and hard voice
kept running through her head like some cruel joke
and she shook her head to stop the noise.
Exhausted, Alex climbed from the bathtub, wrapped
herself in a towel and walked across the hall to her
bedroom. The bedroom looked overwhelmed by
the large four-poster oak bed that occupied the comer between the windows. Alex had covered it
with a mauve comforter and throw pillows. Now it
offered its sympathy to Alex as she crawled into it,
still damp from her bath, emotionally overwhelmed
from her attack and sleepy from the
vodka. Before her eyes closed she remembered
briefly, the warmth of James' touch and a small
smile touched her lips.
James drove himself home at a steady pace trying
to keep the attack out of his mind. He was
concerned about her, but hadn't located a home
number in her file to be able to call and check on
her. He thought about stopping at Grayson Laird's
house for a quick beer before going home, but
thought better of it. Jean would be at the house,
packing and moving her stuff out. He promised he
would help her. James pulled his SUV into the driveway and parked
alongside the U-Haul that Jean backed up to the
door. As he walked into the house, he glanced
into the truck and noticed that Jean had been here
for a while because it was almost full. He also saw
that Jean'
s father and brother Jay were helping her.
"Hello," he announced as he walked in the house,
hoping to attract somebody's attention.
Jean came down the stairs followed by her father
and brother who were moving her cedar chest from
their bedroom. She hesitated briefly but
continued towards him. "Hi. I didn't think you
were gonna make it," she said.
James looked into those eyes that he had fallen in
love with five years ago; the eyes that were now so
filled with pain and hatred for him. James attempted to reach out and take one of her hands,
but she jerked it away. She had made her choice
and now refused his touch.
"I'm here. What needs done?"
"Nothing," she said opening the door and moving
out of the way so that the cedar chest could be
loaded onto the truck, "we're finished. That was
the last piece.
James had been surprised at how much they had
gotten on the truck, but didn't realize that Jean had
been able to finish without him.
"You're done?"
"Yeah, you didn't expect us to wait for you to show
up did you?" "Actually, I thought you and I could sit down and
talk before you started.
"Why? What more is there to say?"
"You can tell me why we can't work this out.”
"James, I've told you. Your affairs can be followed
by your passport. You've sampled everything and
everyone in anyplace you've been. Do you really
expect me to stay here and play happy homemaker
while you dally with every beautiful woman you
see?"
"Jean, I'm sorry. What about therapy?"
“Jean, it's time," came a voice from behind Jean.
James turned his attention to Ray Martin, Jean's
father. He remembered how upset Ray had been
when Jean had called him and told him about the impending divorce. Ray had not been supportive
of the marriage to begin with, and now with James'
life suffering more scrutiny came further under fire
from him.
"Jean," James said reaching for her arm as she
turned to go.
"James, let her go," replied her father, "Don't you
think you've hurt my daughter more than enough?"
"That was never my intention, Ray and you know
it. "
"It doesn't matter now. She's made up her mind,"
he said with finality and left James standing on the
porch. James walked back inside and closed the
door softly. The house had a tomb like feeling. It
felt strange and foreign without Jean's stuff here in the house. James had deluded himself into