One Week To Live

by Joan Beth Erickson

  “After you,” he said, ushering her inside. Sitting opposite her, he watched the candlelight dance across her face. He’d been waiting for a romantic night like this with her. He just wished for different circumstances.

  “It looks and smells delicious.” She picked up her fork.

  “I can’t take the credit. The thank-yous go to Mario’s.” He smiled. “But I did set the table.”

  “You did a great job,” she said, returning his smile.

  Seeing some of her earlier sadness slip away made him happy. “Let’s make a toast.”

  “To friendship,” she said, raising her glass.

  “Yes, friendship,” he replied. He yearned for much more than that and hoped she did, too.

  “And to Mario’s,” she added after taking her first bite of lasagna.

  Holding up his glass so the red liquid glowed in the candlelight, he made another toast. “To my beautiful dining companion. I hope for more nights like this one.”

  She didn’t say anything. Instead, she returned to eating her meal. Hadn’t she liked the toast? He’d never been short of words, at least not on paper. However, right now he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He felt like a tongue-tied teenager on his first date, but he wasn’t a teenager. Why did she leave him speechless when there was so much he wanted to say?

  She broke the silence. “You’ve never talked about why you decided to choose journalism as a career.”

  He set down his fork. He didn’t want to discuss work, but it was better than enduring the rest of the meal in silence. “I enjoyed writing from the time I was a kid, working on student newspapers from junior high school on. I prefer factual articles. I’ll leave the fiction to guys like my friend who owns this condo.”

  “He obviously makes a good living at what he does,” she quipped, looking around.

  “Yeah, that’s the problem with my kind of work. I’ll never be rich, at least not monetarily. My riches come from what I do, the stories I tell. I love seeking out human interest pieces.”

  “But you weren’t always a feature writer.”

  “No,” he said. What was she leading up to? “In my younger days, I chose investigative journalism. I thought of myself as a crusader protecting the rights of innocent people. I wanted to correct wrongs inflicted by more powerful individuals.”

  He reached for his wine glass. He no longer wanted to talk about himself. He wanted to learn more about her. She’d always been so closemouthed.

  “Why did you feel you needed to be a crusader?”

  “Something happened near the end of my senior year of college.”

  “What?”

  “My father died in a lumber mill accident.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No sorrier than me when I learned his death was due to unsafe mill conditions. The mill had already been cited and fined, but they’d done little about the problem.”

  “Oh, Brian, that’s awful.”

  He raked his hand through his hair. “When I graduated I wrote a series of articles exposing the company’s continuation of unsafe practices. They were finally forced to change things and pay restitution to the families of the four men killed. It didn’t bring my father back, but hopefully I helped to save other lives.”

  He drank more wine. “Enough about me. Tell me more about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” she asked. Her voice held uneasiness.

  “If I’m to champion you against that ogre of an ex-husband, I need to know more about him.” Although he attempted to make his tone light, it wasn’t.

  “There’s not much to say. I’ve already told you about him.”

  “Would he physically harm you, abduct you?”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “Now do you understand why I didn’t want my name in the paper?”

  “Dunning spilled the beans to his frat buddy, not me.”

  She glanced out the window avoiding both his eyes and comment. She changed the subject. “I think a storm is brewing over the mountains.”

  “I talked to my cop friend about your ex. He’s going to check him out. Pursue another restraining order to keep the man away from you.”

  She shook her head. “It didn’t do any good last time. Why should it now?”

  Once more avoiding his gaze, she looked out the window. “The distant lightning is intensifying.”

  Sensing he wasn’t going to learn any more about her tonight, he suggested they go outside to watch the storm unfold. “That is if you’re done eating.”

  “Yes, I’m done.”

  He once more topped off their wine glasses and handed her glass to her, careful to avoid touching her hand this time. With every glance, every touch, his desire increased. How much longer could he contain himself? One misstep and the romantic evening he’d hoped for would vaporize. He escorted her onto the balcony, and they stood side by side in silence watching the lightning show.

  “The storm is some distance away,” he said, trying to make conversation when he’d rather be kissing her.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “In fact it may never reach us.” For him the air already buzzed with electricity. The mere thought of them in bed wrapped in each other’s arms while the storm raged outside caused him to suck in a sharp breath.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied. That was a lie. She should be in his bed right now, not on this balcony. Would she eventually return his advances or spend the rest of the evening avoiding them? He put his arm around her waist.

  “Listen to the thunder,” he said. The fact that she didn’t back away proved encouraging.

  “What about it?” she asked.

  “When the storm is close or right over head, the thunder sounds like a single loud clap. Kind of like a gun shot. The low rumbling thunder you’re hearing now means the storm is farther away.” He didn’t want to talk about thunder. He wanted to kiss her.

  The distant sky lit up as clouds flashed bright white against the night’s blackness. “Wow,” she muttered.

  “Desert storms are impressive. That was intracloud lightning.”

  “Well, aren’t we a smarty,” she teased, snuggling into his embrace.

  He grinned, savoring the feel of her soft curves against him. Thinking of those curves naked and pressed against his bare skin, his arousal intensified. To distract himself, he returned to the storm discussion.

  “It happens when lightning arcs between opposing charge centers within the same cloud. From the outside, it looks like the clouds are pulsing with light.” He thought about the charge brewing between them.

  “How do you know so much?” she said, looking up at him.

  “I just do.” Bending, he brushed his lips across hers as thunder rumbled and the distant sky lit up with lightning bolts. When the kiss deepened, she pulled away.

  “Where do you think the storm is?” she asked, clearing her throat and looking toward the mountains.

  “At the moment it’s over Red Rock Canyon.” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. Shit, he thought, as he saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Is that where he’s taking Polly?” she asked. “Why?”

  “I don’t know why he’d take your grandchild there.”

  She didn’t respond. Why wouldn’t she admit the kidnap victim was her granddaughter? She still didn’t trust him with her secrets.

  “Not knowing who this guy is frightens me.”

  “We’ve never known who the guy was. What frightens me is what he’s capable of doing whether he’s the real kidnapper or a copycat.”

  “Since he’s a copycat, will he follow the same pattern as in the San Diego case?”

  “He should. However, we’ve already noticed deviations in the copycat’s behavior,” he said.

  “Polly could already be dead.” She choked on the words.

  “We haven’t gotten the seventh clue yet.” His words of reassurance fell flat.

  “Would that s
top him? He could end his game without delivering a seventh clue. Tucker’s little boy was killed on the sixth day.”

  “It’s a different guy,” he said.

  “But he is a copycat,” she pointed out. “Speaking of Tucker. Have you heard from him?”

  “No. After Ray died, I tried to call him. He hasn’t responded to the message I left. I suspect he’s working undercover.”

  She nodded, her face filled with worry.

  Moving closer, he took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Your grandchild is going to be all right. Believe me.”

  “But…”

  He swallowed her next words in a long kiss that left them both breathless.

  ****

  Every time he approached her, touched her, kissed her, she backed away from him. She couldn’t help herself. His actions were obvious. He wanted her. Her actions implied she didn’t want him. Maybe she shouldn’t, but she did. With every touch, every kiss, she desired him more. She shouldn’t be feeling this way right now, but she couldn’t help herself.

  After what she’d been through the last few days, she longed for the comfort of his arms around her. She yearned to forget everything for a little while in the throes of lovemaking with this man. She knew the man well enough to realize that sex wouldn’t be enough for him. Nor would it be for her. Becoming involved meant committing to someone and that scared her.

  Could she trust him not to betray her? He said he’d never write a story about her daughter and her without her permission. She wanted to believe him, but wasn’t certain she could. She should walk away now before things became more involved, but she didn’t want to.

  A soft breeze ruffled her hair and cooled the night air slightly. Trying to distract herself from the spell cast by his kiss, she focused on the distant sounds of street traffic and car horns. The distractions weren’t enough. She couldn’t ignore his presence or the spicy scent of his aftershave teasing her nostrils. Several bolts of lightning pierced the distant blackness sending squiggly fingers of searing white light toward the ground.

  “That’s cloud-to-ground lightning, the most dangerous kind,” he said.

  “The kind that causes fires and kills people.” Without looking, she sensed he’d inched his way closer.

  “Yes.”

  He once more attempted to put his arm around her and once more she backed off. She now stood near the end of the rail next to the condo’s wall. Soon she could no longer escape him.

  “As a kid I feared lightning storms,” she said, trying to make conversation. “When I woke up screaming, my father came in to hug me and soothe my fears away.” The memories of a happier time when her father showered her with love proved bittersweet.

  “Funny, my mom comforted me. I’d pretend the lightning and thunder didn’t scare me, but she knew better.”

  “Was your son afraid of thunderstorms?”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His green eyes reflected his pain.

  “Were you an investigative reporter when your son was abducted?”

  “Yes,” he said, grimacing.

  “What were you working on?”

  “Human trafficking, namely the transportation of young girls from Asia to be sex slaves in Las Vegas. I was about to expose a crime ring involved in the trafficking when they took my son.”

  “I suppose they demanded your silence for your son’s life.”

  “Yes.”

  She shouldn’t be pursuing a subject that caused him such distress, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to know more about this man.

  “It must have been horrible for you.”

  “It was.”

  Seeing the suffering edged on his face, her compassion took charge and she moved closer to him. When he grabbed her, she went willingly into his arms. The crushing kiss that followed made her gasp. Then he backed away. Without a word, he left the balcony and went inside. Stunned by his reaction, she followed him in and found him at the bar pouring himself a shot of scotch.

  “Brian.” She gently touched his shoulder. Instead of turning toward her, he turned away.

  “I don’t need your pity. I’ve had enough of that. Both pity and blame.”

  “Blame?”

  “Yeah, blame.” His words held rough emotion. “There are those who blame me for my son’s death and maybe they’re right. If I hadn’t been so determined to write the story, my son could be alive.”

  Guilt filled his words. Recalling her daughter’s harsh words earlier, she understood the sting of guilt. Weren’t they a pair? Each of them guilt ridden by actions they’d always regret.

  “Holding onto that kind of blame isn’t good. Let it go,” she said. Why was she lecturing him on holding on to blame? She harbored enough of her own.

  Touching his arm once more, he finally turned to her. “I’m sorry. Maybe neither one of us is ready to take this relationship further right now.”

  His words surprised her. Hadn’t he been the one pursuing her while she’d continually backed away from what he wanted?

  “We both have ghosts hovering in the wings,” he said.

  His honesty touched her. She gently stroked his freckled face and he leaned into her caress. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him, softly brushing his lips with hers.

  “I don’t deserve you,” he growled, crushing her to him.

  The kiss that followed was filled with hungry need. She’d been avoiding close physical contact for a long time. She’d believed that she’d be safe if she stayed clear of close personal relationships. She’d never known what it was like to care for someone and have that love returned.

  When the kiss ended, he didn’t need to ask her the question that hovered between them. Together they walked toward the bedroom. As they did thunder rumbled closer and the storm-driven wind increased.

  ****

  Watching the bedroom light go out, he put the high-powered binoculars away. What he’d seen on the condo balcony made him grimace. She wasn’t supposed to be in that man’s condo or his bed. She should be in her own apartment in her own bed alone. The fact that he’d now have to alter his plans angered him. He hated having to reorganize his life because she wasn’t following his agenda.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thursday night

  Silence filled the bedroom, the only sound the rain beating against the window. Keeping his eyes trained on Angie standing a few feet away, he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. She didn’t look at him as she stripped off her tank top and shorts. He wanted to be the one to remove her bra and bikini panties, but he didn’t approach her. He feared the romantic spell might be broken if he did, and she’d change her mind.

  He realized that thoughts of Polly loomed just below the surface. But at this moment, he wanted to carry her away from her world of worry, chase away the dread and uncertainty for a little while.

  The compassion swimming in her eyes earlier overwhelmed him. After his son’s death and the bitter divorce, he’d walled himself off from caring about anyone. With this woman, the wall dissolved. Part of this stemmed from sexual need, but it was much more than that. He desired this woman in his life for more reasons than sex.

  When she removed her bra and panties, he sucked in a breath. She was so beautiful. He wanted to turn on the bedside lamp, but he didn’t. It might spook her and she’d flee.

  The fact that she’d removed her clothes without hesitation surprised him. Did she do it quickly to keep from changing her mind? He cherished her more for committing to something she wasn’t sure of.

  She came to him and softly rested her hands on his bare chest. A breath caught in his throat. She feathered her fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers and a shiver coursed through him. When she started to unfasten the button, he stopped her.

  “Let me.” Undoing the button and sliding the zipper down, he slipped his jeans and briefs off. They stood naked a breath away from each other.

  “God, I want you,” he said, his v
oice rough with desire.

  “I know,” she whispered, looking down and smiling. “That’s obvious.”

  He chuckled. Taking her by the hand, he guided her toward the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. Tossing the bedspread and blanket aside, he gathered her into his arms. Together they sank onto the cool satin sheets, their hot bodies intertwining. The mere sensation of her softness sliding across his bare skin drove him to the edge. Don’t rush it, he told himself.

  She captured his lips in a passion-driven kiss and he fervently returned that kiss savoring her mouth’s sweetness. Before he could stop her, she trailed kisses down his chest gently nipping at each of his nipples as she did.

  He moaned. “You’re driving me insane.”

  “Am I?” she asked, continuing the exploration of his body with her mouth and tongue. “Good.”

  When she moved lower, he stopped her. “No,” he gasped. “Not yet.”

  He devoured her perfume-scented body with kisses. Nibbling on her soft lips and neck, he caressed each breast, teasing the nipples into erection with his fingers. She moaned. He took each breast into his mouth and suckled it, and she writhed with pleasure.

  “Now,” she groaned.

  He desired her with an aching need, but it wasn’t time yet. He needed to pleasure her, savor her body more. He trailed kisses across her flat stomach and moved lower. With each stroke she begged for more. His caresses soon took her over the edge into a shattering climax.

  To his surprise, she quickly pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Without hesitation he slid inside her, the warm wetness enveloping him in mind-blowing pleasure. They began to move together, their rhythmic dance driving her into another climax. Trembling, she screamed out his name.

  With a crack of thunder overhead and a brilliant flash of light filling the room, he followed her to dizzying heights and plunged into his own mind-blowing experience.

  “Geez,” he managed to mutter, dazed by their passionate lovemaking.

  “‘Gees’ might be one way of describing it,” she whispered, taking in a breath.

  A satisfied smile played across her face as she rolled off of him. He yearned for her to remain on top of him forever, their bodies locked in perpetual lovemaking. He took her into his arms and pulled her close.