Borrowed Time

by Miller, Maureen A.

  “It was Colin’s cell.” He heard her speak, but refused to turn around and look at her. “I recognized the pitch of the static.”

  Anger was a better venue anyway. It was something to challenge the other heat inside him.

  “Did you ever think this out, Emily? Did you even once stop to think about what you were getting yourself into?”

  With his teeth grating together, the pain shot up into his temple. “George Barcuda will not stop now. If your brother has something that he wants, he will get it. He will not let two insignificant engineers stand in his way. A lawyer? That was it? That was your plan?”

  “Colin was not insignificant. He was brilliant.”

  And just like that, she was quick to toss aside her own attributes in favor of her brother. It made Brian all the angrier.

  “Alright,” He was tempted to turn, but no, it was better to speak into the dark and not chance a meeting with her eyes, or risk seeing her lips swollen and glossed with the moisture of their kiss. “Then if you and your brother are so damn close, how could he stand by and let you put yourself in danger like that? How could he let you sneak into NMD alone? God Em, you could have been shot.” A staggering thought made his voice ragged. “I could have shot you.”

  Brian would have never aimed to kill a trespasser, but the rules were stringent at NMD. He would have debilitated her if he had to. God damn.

  Emily’s weight shifted on the bed behind him. “Colin didn’t know about it. He didn’t know until I was on the highway, heading towards Albany. You’re right, he would have never allowed me to do that, and that’s why, that’s w—” She cleared her throat, waited, and said thickly. “That’s why he won’t tell me where he is.”

  Brian felt her fist impact the mattress. “He wants to do this alone,” She cried. “and I can’t let him.”

  This time he swiveled, and there was Emily watching him from the shadows. Her eyes were beseeching and her shoulders were tensed in confrontation. Wisps of cinnamon hair curled against her cheek, tempting his fingers.

  “Okay,” he said softly. “We won’t let him do it alone.”

  We.

  Emily was rooted in place, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting atop her knees. Outside, the cold January wind summoned with a siren’s pitch, the shrill song vibrating the window panes. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the chill. At the foot of the bed sat a man with black hair, a tense jaw, and broad shoulders—a shadow that could loom from the dark and consume her in its obscurity. She sensed the strain in his body, as if his immobility was something he struggled to maintain.

  “Why would you help me Brian?” She whispered. “You don’t trust me.”

  The weary giant rubbed at the chorded muscle above his ribs, and pain lanced his face. Emily’s body uncurled, ready to crawl to his aid, but something in his expression warned her off. It wasn’t hostility. It was passion.

  Maybe it was a cliché, but his eyes undressed her. Not merely the elemental jeans and sweatshirt—he stripped to the core and left her naked in all respects.

  “You need sleep.” She said and swung her legs off the bed.

  “Where are you going?” Brian growled after her.

  “You’ve been in a major car accident, you haven’t eaten or slept in nearly two days,” The wicker couch that she slumped down onto wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it offered an opportunity to flee him. “I’ll stay here tonight. You take the bed.”

  With a deep breath, Brian rubbed his palm over his face. The motion drew her attention to the dark stubble, another indication as to how long it had been since he had last slept.

  “Emily,”

  “Don’t argue with me.” She was not intimidated by his tone. “I just—I just don’t want to argue right now, okay?”

  “Neither do I.” He rose, the pop of a bone cracking in his hip reverberated it the quiet room. He approached the couch, and stood before her.

  “I want you in bed with me.”

  Emily gasped.

  “Listen to me.” He continued. “You are a beautiful woman. Damn, you’re sexy as hell and you know I’m attracted to you. I was attracted to the woman who saved me on that dark street.” He reached out and traced a strand of silky hair, the tip of his pointer finger skimming across her flushed cheek. “And now I’m attracted to the outlaw.”

  She trembled at his touch.

  “But honey, the God’s honest truth is I am too tired to be much of a threat to you.”

  Watching Emily’s variable expression was like looking into the tumult at the bottom of a waterfall. Her sloe eyes went from glittering compassion to heated desire, and flashed with anger and resolution.

  The effect left Brian on edge.

  “Well, that’s a relief.” She exhaled.

  Brian held out his hand. “Come on, we’re both too exhausted to argue.”

  If only that were true, but she apparently had one more round in her. Brian dropped his hand and awaited her outburst.

  “What is it?” Emily challenged. “If I’m not right under your grasp, you’re afraid I’ll escape?”

  Pain throbbed dully behind his eye as Brian pinched two fingers at the top of his nose. He shook his head and managed levelly. “Do you want to escape? I won’t stop you, you know.”

  Emily’s back was ramrod straight, “I am a thief. It was less than twenty-four hours ago that you yanked the distributor cap off my car, and now you sit there and say you won’t stop me?”

  “I’m just asking you, Em,” He glanced up, and in the dark sought her gaze in the shadows. “Do you want to escape?”

  With a twitch, her neck turned as she searched the back porch through windows that had grown murky with frost. Her fingers splayed against the frigid panel and when she withdrew them, a moist impression of her hand remained.

  “No.” She said desperately.

  Brian felt an extraordinary sense of tenderness overtake him. “And why do you suppose that is?” He whispered.

  She refused to turn his way, but the rigid set of her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Because,” the words choked out, “I believe I can trust you.”

  Something akin to contentment settled over Brian. He reclined on the bed and groaned when one ankle hooked over the other. Rolling his head to the side on the pillow, he looked at the pensive figure by the window, like Tinkerbell trapped in a jar.

  “Emily,” He beckoned softly. “Come here.”

  She tensed. “What do you want?”

  Such a loaded question. “I want you.”

  Outside, frozen branches engaged in a swordfight, a duel between two surly maple trees searching for dominance over the roof of the portico. Their serenade momentarily returned Brian to that cold blacktop, where the same dance of limbs snapped above him. And just like that bleak night, Emily’s soft voice drew him back.

  “I am not going to sleep with you.”

  Brian chuckled, growing lethargic as he lifted his arms and rested his palms beneath his head. The motion made him ache, but the lushness of the mattress eased the pain.

  “Figuratively or literally?” He prompted.

  Emily turned away from the window, and the gravity of her eyes swiped the grin from his face. “I mean it Brian. If I lie down next to you, don’t expect, don’t—” Her hand picked up where her voice failed her.

  “No,” Brian reached across and latched onto those fluttering fingers. The jolt was instantaneous, as if her touch alone bore the power to bring a man to his knees. This man.

  Was it the haunting recollection of the hand that held faithfully to his through the night? The hand that he accredited for the swift recovery of his wounds? Was she truly an angel struggling to do right?

  “Nothing will happen between us tonight.” He vowed.

  The fingers in his hand trembled. He tugged ever so gently till she stirred like the tide. The warm Caribbean Sea washed over him and rolled to a gentle froth by his side. Fresh jasmine cascaded across the pillow, and a long feminine body depres
sed the mattress.

  I believe I can trust you. When Emily said those words it sounded as if they were torn from her, and the release seemed to have cost her. A shadow of fine eyelashes showed that her eyes were shut, but he knew she was feigning sleep. And her posture, though in repose was stiff with uncertainty.

  Emily’s breathing evened out, her face so close he felt the soft breath brush across his cheek. If he tilted his head ever so slightly, he could touch her mouth with his.

  Was that it? A sexual attraction? Hell yes. But he’d felt that tug numerous times in his life. This was alarmingly different. Right now he wanted to haul her into his arms, pin her thigh between his and fall asleep in an embrace that sheltered them from the night. Emily. He caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, but still she slept.

  Fatigue arrived in a dark cloud to consume him. Just a few minutes sleep would help to regain focus. Brian surrendered to the fog as his last conscious gesture was to link his fingers with hers.

  CHAPTER IX

  Emily’s eyes flew open.

  At first the darkness was so intense she relied only on sound for orientation. The tedious rustle of evergreen limbs brushed the wooden façade, an intimate stroke that soothed the aged planks. In the dark, just beyond her reach, came the timbre respiration of a man.

  For a moment Emily concentrated on that gentle rhythm, dipping her head into the musky scent of the pillow beside hers. The motion clashed her forehead with Brian’s as the even pattern of his breath faltered with a soft groan. A shift of his shoulder settled it back into a soft tempo.

  Emily held her breath and waited, satisfied that he was once again deeply under. She was startled to find her fingers entwined with his. Had she sought his hand in slumber?

  Never before had she even considered exposing that which was held so private. Her pain was a living, breathing animal caged in her chest, each day gestating till she wanted to scream and pound her ribs for release. And where did it come from? Guilt.

  Overshadowed for life by a unique young man with mental skills that defied imagination, Emily accepted her fate because she truly loved her brother. It was impossible not to. Maybe one might not consider her brilliant, or at least not in comparison, but she was an exemplary student with a smart head on her shoulders. And her brother worshipped the ground she walked on.

  When she was young, that adoration was embarrassing, especially when her friends witnessed the tow-headed kid tagging along after her. He was a crafty shadow, always managing a fifty-foot distance between them, never narrowing it, never diminishing it.

  As she grew older that adoration was tested when she went off to college. It was during those years that Colin excelled in school and earned awards like they were candy. When her parents came to visit her on campus, the conversation revolved around Colin’s most recent accomplishments—Colin’s college prospects, Colin’s uncanny skills, how Colin designed the new add-on to their Atlantic home.

  Sometimes Emily wanted to scream. Her thesis, which had earned her great acclaim, went unnoticed in the family. Instead, that week Colin was in the local newspaper for winning the Connecticut Science Bowl.

  Graduation. The world seemed at her fingertips and Emily was ready to take it on. A Marine Technology firm soliciting the university recruited her after only two meetings. Her future was set. George and Marie Brennan were on campus to herald their daughter’s triumphs. Colin couldn’t make it. The Science Bowl offered him the opportunity to partake in a research trip to analyze plankton in Long Island Sound.

  As Emily stood in her dorm readying for the ceremony, her Father’s bulky cell phone rang. Something about that shrill sound diminished the sun that filtered through her third story window. It was an offshore call to inform the Brennans that their son had broken into the engine room of the research vessel and had damaged government property. The firm that owned the ship was requesting their presence immediately or they would file criminal charges.

  Emily placed her hand on the dorm window and felt the last traces of warmth from the sun. If she knew her brother, he had found something unsound in the propulsion system and only wanted to point out the inadequacies of the engineer who designed it.

  “We’re sorry baby, but Colin is probably in a panic right now. You understand, don’t you?”

  More likely Colin was spouting off to his patriotic comrade about the pros of nuclear versus diesel-powered engines. Regardless, it was the catalyst of so many events in her life that had been underscored by Colin’s issues.

  “No,” She pleaded resentfully. “Grandpa Joe is only an hour away from Colin. You’re at least six hours away. Why can’t he go?

  Her Father’s tolerant eyes regarded her affectionately. “Because they need to speak to Colin’s parents, not his Grandfather.” He shifted those cerulean eyes towards his wife and added, “Immediately.”

  “Oh George, but it’s Emily’s graduation.” Feathery fingers dusted across her watch. “The ceremony is only a little over an hour from now.”

  George Brennan cupped strong hands on Emily’s tense shoulders. “Our daughter will treat us to many great wonders in her life. I have no doubt about that.” His fingers clenched. “This is Colin, honey. You know what can happen to him.”

  Instead of letting the thoughts roil inside her head, for once Emily voiced them. “Yeah, he’ll turn into a stark raving lunatic and probably scare the group of students into reconsidering their choice of careers.”

  “Emily,” Her father’s voice was stern.

  “Come on Dad. Don’t you think he does it to get attention? Look, this is the only event in my life that I’ve had just the two of you—you’re undivided attention, and bam, Colin turns up with yet another issue that has to be addressed by his parents.”

  She tugged on the ribbon that locked her hair into a neat ponytail and felt the length cascade down her back. “Of course he’s brilliant. He can play everybody to suit his needs. You know what? Go. Go ahead. What is this ceremony all about anyway?”

  Emily tore at the zipper of her crimson robe. “Heck, I don’t even need to be here, it’s just formality right?”

  Marie rushed forward to hoist the robe back up her daughter’s arm. “Oh Em, we’re so sorry, please understand, and please go get your diploma, don’t let this stop you.”

  “Of course I understand, Mom. I always understand.” She turned away from the sorrowful eyes and felt a surge of heat in her cheeks. “Just go, okay.”

  “George?” Marie Brennan pleaded.

  In the mirror Emily watched her Father’s jaw tense, his arms crossing to rest in a posture she knew so well. Resolve.

  “Emily, I know you didn’t ask for a brother with—well with Colin’s skills, but you have one.” He took a step towards her. “You’re graduating college today. I would have hoped that meant you were a woman now.”

  She locked on the reflection of his slate blue eyes in the mirror, but she refused to turn around. “Would it matter if I were still a child? I never had any choice. I’ve been the grown up for as long as I can remember.”

  “You’re being selfish, Emily.” George nodded, and Marie quickly stooped to retrieve her purse. “I wish we didn’t have to leave like this, but it’s the way it is.”

  “So it is.” Emily said.

  Now she refused to even lift her eyes to the mirror. She waited out the interminable silence, and flinched when the door to her dorm clicked shut.

  An hour later, with a flick of the wrist, Emily hiked up the tresses of her crimson robe and mounted the stairs to the stage, where before a record-setting audience she received the University’s ornate gold embossed diploma. At the same time her parents boarded a prop plane bound for New London.

  The plane never arrived.

  George Brennan’s words had been prophetic.

  That night Emily became a woman.

  It had been nearly a decade since that fateful evening, and the emotions were still raw. For ten years she had been the one they called every time
Colin got into trouble. She had been the one to look on in pride when he graduated at such a young age. And she had been the one who wanted him close by, and introduced him to the Human Resources department at NMD.

  If Emily recalled correctly, George Barcuda made an appearance during that meeting. Wire-framed glasses clutched the narrow ridge of his nose as he stared with impassive gray eyes, and never spoke a word.

  And now it was the pain of recollection that kept her awake in this old-fashioned house, watching the sleeping giant at her side and wishing she could nestle against him. Wishing this virtual stranger could tell her that it was okay. That she had done right by Colin. That her parents didn’t resent her.

  A low groan rumbled from deep in Brian’s chest, the grimace of agony chiseling his face as he shifted in sleep. Emily reached to soothe him, her hand a phantom caress across that muscular vista. She meant to ease his pain, but the candid touch proved an avenue to exorcise her curiosity. Inquisitive fingers dusted across expanding ribs, afraid that the pressure would only aggravate his wounds. Wounds that were encountered in pursuit of her.

  Emily chanced a look at Brian’s face, but the golden eyes were locked away behind drawn lids and black lashes. Even in repose he seemed tense. In the hospital while he slept, she had used the tip of her finger as an eraser and traced the wrinkles across his forehead, making them dissipate. But now the rock solid muscles of his abdomen bewitched her finger. And the pattern she traced was a trek across dynamic terrain.

  Encouraged by the giant’s rumbling breath, Emily explored further, her fingers reflexively kneading the musky fabric of his sweater. She grew lethargic at the heady scent and nestled closer, a natural draw towards heat. Her eyes dropped closed, as she drew innocuous patterns on the masculine cloth with a feathery touch.

  Without warning, a manacle ensnared her wrist, halting the motion of her fingers. When Emily tugged for freedom, that grip remained implacable.

  A single, dogged motion thrust her hand under the warm haven of Brian’s sweater to the erotic landscape of his bare chest.