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Leah seemed to want to say something else or maybe didn’t know what else to say; either condition was awkward. Finally she bobbed her head and turned to hurry to her own car. Her full skirt flew around her legs. Today’s dress was particularly hopeless, a lavender print that did nothing for her coloring and with a small ruffle around the neckline. It looked like a yard-sale reject, though Leah pulled down a good salary—Jaine knew exactly how much—and probably shopped at nice department stores. She simply had no fashion sense.
“On the other hand,” Jaine muttered to herself as she unlocked the Viper, “I have no people sense.” Her judgment must be seriously off, because the two people from whom she would never have expected sympathy and sensitivity—Mr. deWynter and Leah Street—were the two who had gone out of their way to tell her they were sorry about Marci.
Mindful of Sam’s instructions, she drove to an electronics store and bought a Caller ID unit, signed up for cellular service, went through all the paperwork for that, then had to choose a phone. The selection engrossed her; did she want one of the little flip-tops or one that didn’t flip? She decided on the non-flipper, figuring that if she were running for her life from a crazed murderer, she didn’t want to have to deal with flipping up before dialing.
Next she had to decide on a color. She immediately dismissed black as too basic. Neon yellow? It would be difficult to misplace. The blue one was cute; she didn’t see many blue ones. On the other hand, there was nothing like red.
Once she selected the red phone, she had to wait for it to be programmed. By the time she left the electronics store, the late summer sun was almost down, clouds were sweeping in from the southwest, and she was starving.
Because a cool wind was blowing in off those clouds, promising rain, and she still had two more stops to make before she went home, she got a fast-food burger and a soft drink and gulped them down as she drove. The burger wasn’t very good, but it was food, and that was all her stomach required.
Her next stop was a firm that installed security systems, where she answered questions, selected the system she wanted, and wrote a large check. The system would be installed a week from the upcoming Saturday.
“But that’s ten days!” Jaine said, frowning.
The beefy man consulted an appointment book. “Sorry, but that’s the earliest we can get to you.”
Deftly she reached over the desk and plucked her check from where it lay in front of him. “I’ll call around and see if someone else can get to me sooner than that. Sorry I wasted your time.”
“Hold on, hold on,” he said hastily. “Is this some land of emergency? If someone is having trouble, we move them to the top of the list. You shoulda said so.”
“It’s an emergency,” she said firmly.
“Okay, let me see what I can do.” He studied the appointment book again, scratched his head, tapped his pencil on the book, and said, “I can work you in this Saturday, since it’s an emergency.”
Careful not to let any triumph show in her expression, she returned the check to him. “Thank you,” she said, and meant it.
Her next stop was a building materials store. It was a huge place, with everything one would need to build a house, except the money. She bought a peephole for the front door—the instructions said “Easy to install”—and a new kitchen door that wasn’t half glass and two new deadbolts. After making arrangements for the door to be delivered on Saturday, and paying extra for the privilege, she heaved a sigh of relief and started home.
Rain began splattering on the windshield just as she turned onto her street. Darkness had fallen, deepened by the cloud cover. Lightning flashed briefly in the west, lighting up the belly of the storm system, and thunder rumbled.
Her house was dark. She usually got home well before dark, so she didn’t leave any lights on. Normally she wouldn’t worry about stepping into a dark house, but tonight she felt a chill creep up her spine. She was edgy, more aware of her vulnerability.
> She sat for a moment in the car, reluctant to turn off the motor and go inside. No vehicle was parked in Sam’s driveway, but there was a light on in his kitchen; maybe he was at home. She wished he would leave his truck in the driveway instead of parking it in the garage, so she could tell when he was there and when he wasn’t.
Just as she turned off the headlights and ignition, she saw movement to her left. Her heart jumped into her throat, then she realized it was Sam, coming down his front steps.
Relief flooded through her. She gathered her purse and plastic shopping bags and got out of the car.
“Where the hell have you been?” he shouted, looming behind her as she locked the car door.
She hadn’t expected him to start yelling; startled, she dropped one of the bags. “Damn it!” she said as she leaned down to pick it up. “Do you have to make a career out of scaring me?”
“Someone needs to scare you.” He grabbed her upper arms and hauled her up to face him. He was shirtless, and she found herself nose-to-pectoral-muscle with him. “It’s eight o’clock, you may have a killer stalking you, and you don’t bother to call and let anyone know where you are? You deserve more than just being scared!”
She was tired, nervous, the rain was getting heavier by the minute, and she was in no mood to be yelled at. She lifted her head to glare at him, and water trickled down her face. “You told me to get Caller ID and a cell phone, so if I’m late, it was your idea!”
“It took you three goddamn hours to accomplish what a normal person can do in half an hour?”
Was he saying she wasn’t normal? Incensed, she put both hands on his bare chest and shoved him as hard as she could. “Since when did I start answering to you?”
He staggered back maybe an inch.
“Since about a week ago!” he said furiously, and kissed her.
His mouth was hard and angry, and his heart pounded like a sledgehammer beneath her hands. As always when he kissed her, it was as if time spun away, leaving only the here and now. The taste of him filled her; his bare skin was hot to the touch, despite the rain beating down on them. He locked her against him, his arms so tight she couldn’t draw a deep breath, and against her belly she felt the thrust of his erection.
He was shaking, and suddenly she realized just how scared he had been on her behalf. He was big and rough-looking, and strong enough to hold his own with an ox; every day he probably saw, without flinching, things that would make the average person cringe in horror. But tonight he had been afraid—afraid for her.
