Winterfall (6 page)

“Neglect?”

“Yes. They didn’t beat me or call me names. They were just cold.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” The words came out sounding bitter. “During that time my father was convicted of setting a series of fires in Bangor. My first foster family decided I was too mouthy one day and I ended up in a second foster home when I was thirteen. I put up with that family until I was eighteen and left for college in Boulder.”

“Put up with the second family?”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the couch. “They made the first family look positively cozy. Both parents were functioning alcoholics and they had six of us foster kids. The parents were about as disengaged as my first foster family. But the five boys bullied me consistently pretty much every day. I had to fight hard to survive it.”

She dared open her eyes to see his reaction. He shook his head in disbelief.

Mark’s frown deepened, and so did the sympathy in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. The parents should have made them stop.”

“Should have. But they didn’t.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I survived it.”

He put his mug down on the coffee table. “Is the fact your father is an arsonist…is that why you’re a firefighter?”

“In part.” She sighed. “I’ve been volunteering as a firefighter here way before Long Valley exploded. But there’s more.”

Her breath shortened at the mere thought of reliving what had happened. She stood slowly and went to the big front window, looked through the multi-paned glass and at the manicured neighborhood.

“You know,” she said, “My neighborhood has survived riots and upheaval since Long Valley erupted. It’s almost like a little island that can’t be breached.”

“I was surprised when I came into the neighborhood and saw it unscathed. It’s a damned miracle.” His voice was quiet and deep. “I hope it lasts.”

“So do I. I put extra locks on the doors, but I refuse to put bars on the windows like so many other people have.”

“Harder to escape if there’s a fire in your home, right?”

“Right.” She kept quiet for a long time, and the fact he hadn’t asked her to continue the story surprised her. His patience must be legendary.

In that freaky way the mind sometimes works, a flash of fantasy hit her. Mark, naked and tending to her every sexual need, his touch slow and exquisitely thorough. Would he make love like that? Heat filled her face and she cleared her throat.

“If I tell you any more,” she said, “it will be like…like letting the darkness in.”

Fear rose inside her. She stared out at clouds gathering thick and dark over trees to the south.

She heard him stand and walk toward her, his tread soft on the hardwood floor. He stopped somewhere behind her but not too close. “Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

Her mouth was dry, her throat thick with emotion. She swallowed hard once. Twice. “I haven’t needed to. Everyone knows about it really. If you look it up in the newspaper archives it’s all there in black and white.”

“You didn’t go to a therapist?”

“No. None of that.” She didn’t turn toward him to see his reaction to what she’d said or was about to say.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But I’d like to help.”

“Why?”

“I’m a damned good listener. And I like you.”

She battled in her head with whether to go on, but what difference would it make? He could look it up later and still have the story. It wasn’t as if she could hide it from anyone who wanted badly enough to know.

She plunged ahead, terrified she’d stop telling him and horrified she wouldn’t stop talking once she began. “When I was a college freshman, I was rooming in a dorm with my best friend.” She refused to allow emotions to override her telling of the story. “I woke up one night and smelled smoke, and before I could even turn the bedside light I knew what was wrong.” She rubbed her arms as a chill went over her body. She watched the rain outside slow to a trickle, lightning still jagged across the sky. “I woke my friend and we raced to the door. The doorknob was hot.” She drew in a slow breath and tried to ignore the guilt, the horror of what she’d experienced. Rushing to the end of the story would help. God, she hoped it would help. “Our room was on the second floor. The only thing we could do was climb out the window. We tied bed sheets to the metal frame of my bed. By that time even though we’d stuffed clothing under the crack of the door, there was smoke coming in through vents. We were choking on it. She insisted I climb out the window before her. First Responders had heard us scream for help but a ladder truck hadn’t arrived yet. I scampered down the bed sheet rope. I was almost to the bottom when…”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled over, despite her struggle to contain them. She wiped at her eyes.

Still he waited, not saying a word and standing there with that rock-solid patience.

She still didn’t turn toward him. “I reached the ground, but when I looked up she was nowhere in sight. I screamed for her. The firefighters wouldn’t let me climb back up. I was fighting them and trying to get to her. They dragged me off to an ambulance because I’d sucked in a lot of smoke and could barely breathe. They promised they’d get her.”

“They didn’t.”

More tears came.
Oh, crap.
She hadn’t wanted this. “Not until it was too late. She’d passed out. The smoke was too much for her. They reached her before the fire did, but it was too late.” She drew in a ragged breath. “I know they did everything they could. They rushed to help her but it was just too late.”

She hadn’t heard him move, but his hands came down lightly on her shoulders. She lowered her head.

Mark squeezed gently, the sensation comforting and soothing. “I’m so sorry.”

Many others would’ve tried to express more sympathy. Instead he just held her. Slowly she turned toward him and broke contact. His eyes held a staggering sympathy and understanding she hadn’t expected.

“You blame yourself for her death, don’t you?” he asked.

Surprise that he’d guessed kept her quiet for a few moments. “Not as much as I used to. I kept thinking that if she’d gone first…”

“You can’t second guess yourself. Her death wasn’t your fault.”

She nodded. “It’s taken me a while to figure that out.”

He caressed her cheek with a gentle touch before drawing back. Her senses were swimming in the sensation of his touch, no matter how swift.

“I’ll be right back.” She escaped to the bathroom down the hall and dabbed her eyes with tissue.

She stared into the mirror and drew in a couple of deep breaths. God, he had to think she was a basket case. She’d dumped a lot on him in a short period of time. Her eyes were red and her face a little blotchy. She left the bathroom with a new tissue in hand. He was standing there with his mug in hand.

She gave him a lopsided smile. “More coffee?”

I put his mug back on the coffee table. “I’m good.”

She didn’t wait long before saying, “I’m sorry I dumped all of that on you.”

“It’s all right. I asked.”

“Still, you barely know me.”

“I know you’re one hell of a brave woman.”

She swallowed around the thick lump rising in her throat. “I’m more terrified than I am brave.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She laughed, but it was sarcasm rather than humor that fueled it. “I’m just surviving like everyone else.”

“With what’s going on in our town, in our country right now, that’s pretty damned extraordinary.”

“I had some hard knocks in my life, but I’ve moved forward,” she said.

“Do you know how amazing that is?” He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. “Most people never move forward. They bitch. They complain. But it’s easier to be unhappy than to be happy, so they stay miserable.”

She smiled. “You’re absolutely right. You’re something else, Mark O’Day. You’re determined, aren’t you?”

“Most people I know would call it stubborn as hell.”

“I suppose that can be a good quality to have in your line of work.”

“Yep.”

He shifted closer to her. Lean and strong, his body looked ripped. Hard as granite and dangerous. Even though she’d just expressed a tragedy in her life, the sight of his big, strong physique set her libido on fire. His nearness disturbed her on a primal level. Not that he’d hurt her. No. That he’d disarm her with his charismatic presence and personality. As he looked down on her, her body reacted with undeniable need. She inhaled his masculine scent, so clean and with a hint of musk. Her blood ran hot and thick with desire. Juliet couldn’t deny the intense heat and interest in his dark eyes.

Impulsively she placed her hands on his chest and patted him. “Thanks so much for listening to me today. It meant a lot, but I’ll bet you have a lot better things to do than listen to me babble.”

“Nah, I came here to see you, remember?” He cupped his hands over hers and held her against hot, hard muscles. Her fingers tingled. “I’ll make you a deal. There’s this little Italian place in town that’s still operating full speed. Go to dinner with me tonight.”

His request took her off guard, but not as much as feeling his body under her touch, and the warmth of his hands. What would it hurt? “I haven’t been on a date in…I don’t know, two years maybe?”

He chuckled, and that gorgeous smile almost melted her into her shoes. “Is that a yes?”

“All right. Yes.”

His grin grew wider. “Good. I can pick you up at, say, six o’clock?”

“It’ll be nice to feel like our world is…normal in some respects.”

“We have to hold on to those parts of our world with both hands. Hold tight.”

He cupped the back of her neck and drew her closer.
Oh wow.
Slow, so slow he dipped his head, and she knew without a doubt what he intended. When his lips met hers in a soft exploration, the tingle low in her belly grew on a warm wave. He caressed her, a sweet asking that left her on the edge. Amazed by the delight his kiss brought her, she responded. He took the kiss a bit deeper, his mouth opening hers slightly, and his tongue flirted with one gentle flick. She couldn’t hold back a soft moan as her body responded, nipples tightening and tingling, and moist heat gathering between her legs. The kiss was so exquisite and tender, teasing and promising, that she almost drew him nearer, almost took the kiss to the next level.

He drew away almost reluctantly. When he released her and stepped back, heat grew in her face. She was shaking, wanting.

He look out the window behind her. “I’d better get back to Sentry Security.”

“I thought…” She cleared her throat. “I thought you had time off.”

“I do. But I think if I stand here much longer, I going to want a lot more than either of us should be getting into right now.” He released her hands, but he brushed his index finger gently along her jawline. “I’ll see you tonight.” His deep voice brushed over her like a touch. “Call me if you need me.”

Another one of those crazy spirals of heat swirled around in her lower belly.
Oh, man. If I need you.

She let him out and waved as he headed to his SUV.

When she closed the door and locked it, she leaned back against it and stared into space. She touched her mouth. If a simple brush of lips and tongues could do that to her, what would happen with a deeper, longer kiss? She stood, back against the door for a long, long time.

* * * *

Why did I agree to a date so soon?

Juliet stood at her bedroom closet and stared inside. “I’ve got nothing to wear.”

She really didn’t. The only good Italian restaurant in Buckleport was Di Medici. An intimate place, it was nothing fancy but the food far outshone the humble surroundings. She could get away with anything casual, but most everything in her closet consisted of jeans and formless clothes. Digging around to the far left of the small closet, she found a light sweater dress she hadn’t worn in months. She sighed and glanced at her watch. She’d better get with the program if she expected to be ready by six o’clock.

As she took a shower, she heard her phone ringing on the dresser in her bedroom. She wondered self-consciously if it was Mark calling back to cancel. With his security job she didn’t take it for granted he’d manage to follow through on the date. He could get called into work. On the other hand, news reports said Buckleport had settled down by a degree. Life in the small Maine city had been chaotic for months, but martial law had calmed things. People were calling for martial law to be lifted, and she could understand. After all, it was something no one had imagined could happen in the United States of America. But it had when the police couldn’t handle the unrest. She soaped up quickly and closed her eyes as she took the fast shower. Once she toweled dry and went back into the bedroom, she rummaged through her dresser for the sexiest underwear she possessed. A matching demi push up bra and lace panties—both fire engine red. Then she halted.

“What the hell am I thinking?”

The sweater set was form fitting enough that it was unforgiving, and that meant if she wore this type of bra, Mark would think she wanted to jump his bones. Which she did. When had she last wanted a man like this? She couldn’t remember.

“Beside the point. I’m not doing anything about it tonight.”

She returned the red underwear to the drawer and found a less provocative purple bra and hip hugger panties.

After she slipped into the underwear, pantyhose, and modest heels, she surveyed herself in the mirror. She’d never been one to primp, and she hadn’t worn makeup in days. Why start now? Ignoring the question, she dug out her makeup and put on a light application of foundation, blush, eye shadow and eyeliner. She hated mascara and wouldn’t use it. At the last minute she remembered lipstick and found a light shade that gave her lips a hint more rose color. She hadn’t gunked up her face this much in a long time. There, that would do. She brushed her short spiky hair over her head to give it more volume and then tamed it into submission with a few more strokes of the brush.

She made a face, stuck her tongue out. “This hair.”

She’d long ago given up on doing anything extraordinary with her hair, and keeping it short worked when firefighting.