Tasting Fear

by Shannon McKenna

  The doctors said that it would take a while for the anxiety to ease. The pills they’d prescribed rattled in her purse. She hadn’t taken them. All she had were her feelings. She didn’t want to cut herself loose from those, too. And she wanted to be sharp, if Reptile Eyes came calling.

  She thought constantly about calling Liam, but something always held her back. She’d told him that she loved him, so technically, the ball was in his court. But this was no game. She was too raw, too sad for games. She just wanted to go to him, hold out her heart and say, “Take this. It’s yours anyway, you great big idiot. So take it already.”

  The intercom buzzed. She leaped up, her heart in her throat.

  Her sisters both had keys. And Reptile Eyes would not buzz. He would transform into fetid slime, ooze under the crack in the door, and reconstitute himself on the other side like the über-evil Terminator III.

  She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Just as well she’d left the light off. She curled into a tight ball, and gave the intercom the finger.

  Buzzzzzz, it rang, loud and long and demanding. Persistent bastard. She waited. Two minutes. Three. Buzzzzzz, again. Curiosity laced with fear dragged her to the window. She leaned out to peek.

  Liam stood on the top of her stoop. Her heart leaped, thudded heavily against her ribs. Her legs started to wobble. Buzzzzz, he hit the intercom again. He looked up into her eyes, and held out his hands, palm up, in silent entreaty. She shuffled to the intercom like a zombie and buzzed him in.

  She unlocked all the locks, of which there were many. She’d added three more to her collection since the Reptile Eyes episode.

  She opened the door. He was thinner. Pale, drawn, and deadly serious. In the flickering light from the stairwell, she saw the fading bruises beneath both eyes. A broken nose, Eoin had said, and cracked ribs. Hanging out with her was hard on a guy’s health.

  She suppressed the concern, the guilt. The desire to fuss.

  Her heart was careening at such a fast clip, she felt woozy and faint. She couldn’t speak, so she just stepped back and gestured him in.

  He shoved the door shut after him, blocking out the light, and she was grateful she’d left it off—until she started remembering the last time they’d been alone, in this room, in the dark. Making love.

  He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She blocked all the automatic babble-mode replies at their source. The “Oh, I’m fine and how are you” bullshit. She had nothing to lose, no reason to lie. “No,” she said flatly. “I feel like shit.”

  He took a step closer. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She choked on her laughter. “Oh, are you? I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t concentrate. I’m scared of my own shadow. I am wrecked, Liam. I am roadkill. So don’t ask stupid questions. And don’t tell me that you’re sorry. Because I don’t want to hear it.”

  “You’re going to have to hear it. Because I’m not done saying it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She backed up, and her thighs bumped against the couch. She was so wobbly, she sat down with an undignified thump. “Don’t tell me what I have to do, because I am so very done with all your arrogant pronouncements and your bullshit ultimatums!”

  “I love you,” he said.

  That cut her tirade off and left her gasping for air. She just hung there, head dangling, hands clamped over her mouth.

  Liam sank down onto his knees. He pried one of her hands off her mouth, pulled it to himself, and kissed it, with reverent slowness, like a sacred ceremony. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  She didn’t know where to start. This thing between them was a maze, a confusion of entrances and exits, full of dead ends, land mines. Her heart shook at the idea that there might be a way through it.

  If she could find that narrow, winding way. If they could find it, together.

  “Why didn’t you call?” she blurted. The question she’d sworn she would not ask had popped up and asked itself, without her permission.

  He hesitated, his face turned away. “I couldn’t. First, I was numb. Then, I was scared. Then, I was embarrassed. I was just…stuck. In a big machine. I had to shake loose of it. It took some time. But I’ll regret how long it took for the rest of my life.”

  That startled a watery smile out of her. “Don’t get melodramatic. The rest of your life is a long time.” She paused. “I hope.”

  “Do you?” He slid his arms around her hips and laid his head in her lap. “No matter how long it is, it’ll be too long without you.”

  Whoa. Following up his advantage, the crafty, presumptuous bastard. He’d caught her in a weak moment, and now he was just waiting for her to cave. And oh, how she wanted to cave. So badly.

  Nancy put her hands on his shoulders, with a vague notion of pushing him away, but as soon as they made contact, her fingers dug in. His muscles seemed leaner, harder than before. He trembled.

  She couldn’t push him away. She had no strength for it. She found herself bowing down like a wilting flower. Draped over him, her hands splayed over his ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.

  “How’s your nose?” she asked.

  “Healing,” he replied. “No big deal.”

  “It was for me,” she said. “It was huge, for me. You saved my life. Again. Thanks, by the way.”

  He lifted his head, and frowned. “Speaking of which. You should not be alone here. It’s not safe.”

  She sighed. “Don’t start. If it comforts you, my sisters have been babysitting me. I just needed to be alone.”

  He looked dubious, but let it go. After a moment, he cautiously tried again. “So. Ah, how did it all go?”

  “How did what go?”

  “The gig. Peter and Enid. Are they megasuperstars now?”

  “Not one bit of sarcasm out of you, or it’s out the door, Knightly.”

  He lifted his hands in quick surrender. “Sorry.”

  She harrumphed, unmollified. “It went well,” she said coolly. “It was a big boost for both their careers. And mine, too, incidentally.”

  “Ah. Well, good. I’m happy for them. And you.”

  She was appalled to realize that she was trying not to smile at his supercareful, kid-gloves tone. “That’s very big of you, Liam.”

  “I hope they appreciate you now.” The edge was back in his voice.

  “I think they do. They even paid back the money they owed me.”

  “No shit?” He looked impressed. “How’d you swing that?”

  “I put my foot down. I admit, that approach does have its uses.”

  He looked away. She couldn’t see his mouth, but she could feel that he was trying not to smile. “Funny how you should say that,” he said. “Myself, I’ve been working on the concept of compromise.”

  “Oh, really?” Her heart thudded crazily. “And how do you feel about it these days?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not as bad as I thought.”

  They gazed at each other. She laid her fingertips against the bruises under his eyes, petting them. He seized her hand, kissed it.

  “I called my father,” he offered.

  She blinked, taken aback. “Wow. And? So? How did it go?”

  “It was weird,” he admitted. “Awkward. But we got through it.”

  “So? What did you say to him? What did he say? Tell me!”

  He kissed her hand again, and again, making her wait. “I, uh, asked him if I should send him an invitation to my wedding.”

  Her jaw dropped. Too much, all at once. Her throat shook.

  “Ah, shit,” Liam muttered. “I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I know I have to propose, and beg and grovel first. And I didn’t mean to sound like it’s a done deal. It was a…a hypothetical question.”

  “Hy-hypothetical,” she whispered.

  “Yeah. You know. In case I get lucky.”

  She hid her face. He waited patiently for several minutes.

  “So?” he coaxed. “You are my queen. Everythi
ng that’s beautiful and fine. I’ll spend my life trying to be worthy. Trying not to fuck this up. Please. Say yes. Be my wife.”

  “I…I love you, too,” she burst out.

  His grin began to spread. “That’s a yes? That means I got lucky?”

  “That means I love you,” she said. “I already have two wedding dresses in storage. I don’t know if I could handle being engaged again.”

  “Okay,” he said promptly. “Let’s skip the engaged part, and go straight to the married part. I got on the Internet before I came here. There’s a red-eye flight for Vegas. Tonight.”

  She started to laugh, helplessly, tears in her eyes. “Oh, God.”

  “We can get married by an Elvis impersonator. Spend three days on a vibrating bed. Rent a convertible, drive through the desert.”

  It sounded surreal. Wonderful. “What about the invitation? For your dad?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, that. We can do another wedding when we’re back. For your sisters, and your friends. This one will be just for us.”

  He waited for a moment, and went on, his voice more hesitant. “Your schedule permitting, of course. I didn’t buy the tickets yet. Didn’t want to seem cocky. It can wait. If you’ve got work commitments.”

  “Wow, Liam,” she said demurely. “That speech sounds rehearsed.”

  “It’s so obvious?” he asked, rueful. “Give me credit for trying.”

  Nancy slid her hands around his waist. “Have you been eating?”

  “Hey! You stole my line.”

  “I have to fatten you up,” she said. “There’s this great little Vietnamese place down the block that has killer noodles.”

  “Don’t you have any noodles here? Spaghetti, linguini?”

  “Are you kidding?” she scoffed. “With a name like D’Onofrio?”

  “If we make our noodles here, we have the advantage of being able to get naked and sweaty while the water boils,” he pointed out.

  She laughed at him, tears slipping down her face. “Um, all right.”

  “That’s awesome. But you haven’t answered my proposal.”

  She bit her lip. “Liam. I love you. You love me. Isn’t that miracle enough for now? Can’t we just be grateful? Let’s not push our luck.”

  He looked mutinous. “I want it all. Every night. In my bed.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured. “I thought you were working on the concept of compromise.”

  “Yeah, but let’s not overdo it.” He touched her face, as carefully as if she were one of Lucia’s orchids. “I almost lost you forever,” he said. “It would have ripped my heart out. I love you, Nancy. I’ll never stop loving you. Push your luck with me all you want, and keep on pushing. There’s no limit to it. It’s bigger than any limits. It’s deeper than the ocean.”

  Something moved inside her chest, swelling until her heart was about to burst. Until there was no more room for fear.

  “Yes,” she said, and reached for him.

  Ask for More

  Chapter

  1

  It was him again. Right on time.

  Nell ducked behind the dessert display case, eying him hungrily over the pecan fudge brownies, tingling from that guilty rush she got whenever she saw him. The only thing effervescent enough to ease the chronic, heavy ache in her middle that she was carrying around these days. She craved the feeling.

  He checked to see if his usual table by the window was free. It was. The lunch rush was nearly over by the time he arrived; three-fifteen, regular as clockwork.

  He took off his jacket, tossed it on the chair, and seated himself. He pulled out a laptop, opened it, and set to work, face grimly intent. As he had every day Nell had worked the lunch shift at the Sunset Grill.

  For weeks he’d been coming every day, and she’d found herself starting to take all the lunch shifts she could, even though she earned way more tips with dinner. Broke as she was, that fleeting, ephemeral rush was worth more to her than the cash. She had it bad.

  Considering that the guy remained utterly oblivious to her existence.

  She polished her glasses, perched them back on her nose, and fished the order she had just taken out of her short-term memory. She dished up ratatouille for the table of women underneath the aquarium, sneaking peeks as she drizzled vinaigrette and tossed grated beets and sunflower seeds on their salads. She loaded the tray and chose a path through the restaurant that brought her by his table. Close enough to smell the detergent his crisp white shirt was washed in. The next sneaky sweep past him garnered her a hungry whiff of his aftershave. Mmm. Nice. Those shoulders, wow. Flaring out, so broad and thick. Solid-looking. He wasn’t movie-star handsome at all, not with that narrow, angular face. She’d studied his features minutely, reviewing them in her dreams and daydreams, but every time she saw the real flesh-and-blood thing, it was a fresh thrill. She loved the severity of his features. That bladelike nose with a crooked bump on it, the black, slashing eyebrows set at a sharp upward angle. His cheeks were lean, with grooves flanking his mouth, and he had crinkled lines around his eyes, as if he’d squinted into desert sun. His mouth was grim, his black hair short, sticking up wildly. She doubted it was due to styling gel. He was not the type to affect messy hair on purpose. This guy could not possibly be bothered.

  She peeked at his computer screen from behind his broad, muscular back. It was full of incomprehensible code. She forced herself to march away without looking back. She was going to be realistic and mature and ignore him today. After one more tiny, hungry peek.

  Behind the counter, her boss, Norma, looked over from the mushrooms she was grilling. “Here again, eh, Nelly? Can’t get enough of that strip steak sandwich, I see. Before I lose you in a romantic haze, hon, I need to ask a favor.”

  Gack. Who knew her silly crush had been so obvious? Nell grabbed the bread knife and began slicing. “Ask away.”

  “Easy does it, hon. That knife is sharp. Can’t help but notice that you never take your eyes off the fellow. Can’t blame you. If I were twenty-five years younger…hell, maybe even just fifteen years younger…” Her voice trailed off, eyes twinkling, waiting for Nell to soften, but Nell just pressed her lips together and cut more bread. “Looks like a workaholic, though,” Norma mused. “Always typing, never a glance at the cute waitress serving him. Take it from an expert. Leave that guy alone.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but it’s not relevant,” Nell snapped, tossing bread into baskets. “I’m not getting anywhere near him.”

  “Whatever you say. Are you free to work an evening shift? Kendra just called in sick. The girl’s driving me crazy. Always at death’s door.”

  “Sorry, Norma, but I’m teaching a discussion section tonight for the summer school American poetry lecture course.”

  “I was afraid of that. Oh well. We’ll be shorthanded, but we’ll survive. Get some coffee for that hardworking fellow before he starts feeling neglected. Do you absolutely have to wear those glasses, hon?”

  Nell snatched her glasses off and polished them defensively.

  “Unless you want me to bump into tables! What’s wrong with them?”

  “They just make you look so, I don’t know. Intellectual, I guess.”

  “Norma, I’ve got news for you. I am intellectual!”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, hon. Your eyes are so pretty, I just want the world to see them.” Norma tucked a hank of curly brunette hair behind Nell’s ear, chucked her on the chin, and tugged down the front of Nell’s apron so it showed more bosom. “For God’s sake, Nelly. Use those assets of yours. Work it. Go on, scram! Get the man’s order!”

  Nell poured a cup of coffee and scurried out with her order pad, self-consciously tugging her orange apron bib back up over her cleavage. She felt nervous and fluttery every time she took his order. God knows why. He’d never glanced up from his screen. She could take his order stark staring naked, and he would never notice.

  She placed the coffee on the table. Without moving his eyes from the screen
, he reached for it and took a swallow. “Thanks,” he said, in that resonant, distant voice that made her shivery. “The usual, please.”

  “Okay,” she replied. “We have three soups today: minestrone, French onion, and three bean. Which would you prefer?”

  A small frown furrowed his forehead, but he didn’t look up. “I don’t care. Whichever is fine.”

  “One bowl of whichever, coming right up,” Nell murmured, staring at the cowlick in his hair. There was raffish stubble on his tense-looking jaw. His cuffs were turned up, revealing tough, ropy muscles and black hair that lay flat and silky against the golden skin of his forearms.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, fingers tapping.

  “Um, no, of course not.” Nell fled, flustered, and ran herself promptly into a table edge. She bit back a yelp. She would have a bruise tomorrow. A stern reminder of what happened when one gave in to adolescent urges. The fact that Norma had noticed was proof that she’d let her crush get out of hand. She put the order in and began assembling his lunch. Norma glanced over with professional interest. “The usual, I assume?”

  Nell nodded, popping a roll into the toaster grill. She scooped an enormous serving of Knorma’s Knockout Coleslaw onto a small plate.

  “You’re ruining me with those portions, hon. He’s not worth it.”

  “Cut it out, Norma,” Nell snapped, preparing the garnish. Thick slices of tomato, radish rosebuds, and carrot curlicues. She tossed on a handful of alfalfa sprouts, hesitated for a moment, and then cut a substantial slice of sweet onion and added it with a flourish, since his breath was neither her responsibility nor her problem. The toaster pinged. She pulled out the roll, avoiding Norma’s gaze.

  “What soup did he want?” Norma inquired.

  “He doesn’t care. I’m going to give him the three bean.”

  “Really? I don’t know, hon. Minestrone might be safer.”

  Nell ladled a bowl full of soup. “He’ll learn to express a preference if he doesn’t like it,” she said in a clipped voice. When she hefted the tray, the soup slopped dangerously near the edges of the bowl.