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Stephanie bent closer to the paper until her nose touched, but it made no difference. She could not make out the words. She grumbled in annoyance. “Meechi, come here a minute, please.”
Her daughter appeared at the entrance to her room, which looked like it had thrown up the color pink on every spot. Or rather it did to her now that she couldn’t see the distinctive designs very well. “Mommie, I’m right in the middle of the good part.”
Stephanie raised a single eyebrow. “Excuse me, miss? I think you better check the attitude and come help me. Now.”
Her daughter pressed her lips together and set the book in her hand aside. Then she hurried over to Stephanie. “Sorry, Mommie.”
“That’s better. Now, what time does it say this program begins?” She handed the page to Meechi.
“It says seven o’clock. Are you really going to that, Mommie? You can’t even see the costumes.”
“But I’ll be able to hear the music.” Stephanie smiled. “Everything has been put on hold, but this is the one thing I can enjoy.”
“You still write in your notebook,” her daughter suggested.
Stephanie hugged her. Meechi was a typical child with little patience for anything other than her interests, but at least she tried to help Stephanie with the little things she had trouble with. She didn’t know what she’d have done if the accident happened when Meechi was an infant. A shiver raced over her skin, drawing goose bumps. And that man…
Stephanie had inquired about who pulled her from her car and called an ambulance for her, but no one had any info. He disappeared after making sure she would get help, and that was the last she heard from him. Either way, he had her gratitude.
The TV blared in the background while Stephanie went about finding clothes to wear to the play. She liked to listen to her shows while straightening the apartment, and when Meechi read from her endless supply of books, Stephanie sat as close as she wanted to the screen. In that way, she could just make out what was going on. With her writing, she’d had to switch from notebook paper to drawing paper because she couldn’t see the lines. She made sure to make her letters large and to keep the lines straight. What she missed most of all being legally blind was seeing Meechi’s sweet face. She encouraged herself with the fact that it wouldn’t be much longer until she had surgery and could see again.
By six, Stephanie was dressed for her rare evening out, and kissing Meechi good-bye. “Don’t stay up late reading. I know how you are.”
Meechi peered up at her, she knew, with wide, innocent eyes. Stephanie couldn’t help kissing her again.
As she stepped from the building and strolled toward the taxi, Stephanie had the feeling someone watched her. She paused and scanned the area. Shapes, colors, and shadows were all she could make out. She heard the neighborhood kids playing on the opposite side of the street. Someone strolled along the walk not far away, but it didn’t appear that they paid her any mind. Maybe paranoia had set in after the accident and because of her limited vision. This was why she liked to get past her fears and go out sometimes, to shake off that helpless sensation.
She jumped into the waiting taxi and settled back with a smile. She loved jazz music, and tonight was a special treat. At the club, she paid the driver and stepped out of the vehicle. A bevy of voices rose around her, and shadows moved in and out of the light. She stood still to get her bearings. A breeze raised her dress hem a little when the taxi sped off.
Nerves s
tirred in Stephanie’s belly. Which way was the entrance to the club? Crap, I should have thought of that. A familiar scent wafted on the air, and she breathed it in, trying to identify it. Definitely a man, and while he wore a touch of cologne, it wasn’t what she found recognizable. The man himself, his essence, captured her attention. The shadows shifted once again, and this time, brought a huge bulk in front of her. She knew he stood before her. When he spoke, his deep voice sent chills racing each other down her spine.
“May I help you to where you’re going?”
Stephanie raised her gaze from the ground to somewhere near the top of his head. She had to crane her neck to reach it and would have given her right arm to see him clearly. He didn’t sound like a serial killer. In fact, his somber, yet polite tone sounded yummy, and from the extent of his shoulders, she guessed he was built. Desire that had been dormant for the most part since her husband died rose up inside her, and she put out a hand to him.
“Thanks. Um, how did you know I couldn’t see?”
He took her hand in his, and she almost creamed her panties.
“A guess.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and turned toward the building. “My name is Hawke Cooper, by the way.”
“Stephanie Martin. It’s good to meet you, and thank you for helping me. I’m sure I would have found my way eventually.” She let out a small, nervous laugh. “Crap, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m glad to have help. I just…”
“Like to keep your independence? I understand. Don’t worry about it.”
They passed through the door with him holding it open for her to go ahead. As soon as they were inside, he took her hand again. She couldn’t find it in her to pull away. Heck, being the poor little blind woman wasn’t bad when it brought men like him near—at least for tonight.
“I don’t want to offend your girlfriend or wife clinging to you and all,” she said with heavy suggestion.
He chuckled, and she was almost lost in the sound. “I have neither, and I assume you’re here alone because if you were mine, I wouldn’t let you stray from my side for more than an instant.”
She caught her breath. “I should tell you I have two big brothers who will kick your ass if you try anything.”
“Then I’ll be on my best behavior.”
She grinned. “You’re assuming I will let you sit with me during the performance.”
