BOH 8-21-07 (00178434).DOC (7 page)

free. She felt like she balanced on a high wire without a

net. She tried and failed to read Mike’s expression. Fear

mushroomed with his long silence. God, what had she

done? She’d never be able to sit across the dinner table

from him again.

She rose, a quick getaway on her mind. Then he

smiled. A long, slow smile that curled her toes. Her

fingers itched to caress his cheek. She sank onto the couch

and pushed her hands under her thighs to curb

temptation.

“Just a little in love with me?”

Her voice came out as a squeak. “Yes.”

“I fell for you the second week. You’re so damn young.

Knew it wouldn’t work, so I shoved you to the smallest

corner of my heart. You’re grieving, Cyn. They say a

person needs at least a year to get over losing a spouse.”

Afraid she might hyperventilate, Cyn took deep

breaths, the sound raggedy to her ears. She wouldn’t have

been more shocked if Mike had shape-shifted into a

panther.

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Immediately, he became Mr. Concern. “Are you all

right?”

“No.” She gasped a few times before she managed to

gain control of her breathing. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m happy it’s in the open. Now we can get to know

each other and—”

“No!” Cyn startled herself with the vehemence of her

response. “Didn’t you understand what I said? I’m not

ready to tackle a serious relationship. I can’t take that

chance. I’ve come this far. I need to know I’m a whole

person.”

Cyn blinked at the curtain of hurt that descended

over Mike’s face.

“I see. So until you decide you’re a new woman who

can handle a relationship, we continue as before, ignoring

what’s growing between us?”

“We have to.”

Mike rose, picked up his glass and drained the

contents in one swallow. “You’ve made a unilateral

decision. I’m not sure why you even bothered to tell me.

Since you’ve been so honest, now it’s my turn.”

Cyn frowned. This was a new side of Mike. But could

she blame him for being angry?

“I want a partner who’s willing to give as well as

take. One that shares problems and is willing to work

them out—with me. I need someone who doesn’t make

decisions that affect both of us without discussing the

issue first.”

Cyn stumbled to her feet. “You don’t understand.”

His gaze roamed her face. She saw no softening in his

eyes. “Unfortunately, I think I do.” He started toward the

stairs, and then looked over his shoulder. “I’ll see you

tomorrow. Lock the door behind you.”

Cyn stood in stunned silence long after Mike left,

feeling like she’d spent the last hour in a blender on high

speed. On wobbly legs she left the house and crossed the

yard to her apartment. But it wasn’t her apartment, not

really. What if Mike wanted her to leave sooner rather

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than later?

She lifted her chin. If so, she’d deal with it. Even

though she’d hurt him tonight, someday he’d thank her.

****

bedroom. He rested his head against the glass pane and

watched Cyn scurry across the lawn. He pulled over a

rocking chair and opened the window. An owl hooted in

the near distance. Bullfrogs croaked a symphony from

behind the house. He filled his lungs with the delicious

scent of sweet pepper bush. Sounds of the night generally

brought him comfort. So quiet, so peaceful; yet tonight it

did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.

He hadn’t wanted a woman so bad since Mary Jo.

Not only in his bed but in his life. He’d been a fool to tell

Cyn how he felt. Now, he’d have to live with the

consequences. Both of them would feel the strain. There’d

be no more camaraderie like there’d been for the last

several months.

One by one the lights in her apartment went out.

What were her thoughts as she climbed into bed? Did she,

like him, regret opening the can of worms? Or did she lie

in bed, thinking the time had arrived to leave what had

been her sanctuary since Peter died?

Goosebumps covered his arms two seconds before he

bolted out of the chair. His jaw dropped as he watched

Peter Jenks materialize. “Just going to give up and let

Cyn slip away?”

Mike wiped a shaky hand across his eyes. “Jesus,

Jenks. You know better than to sneak up on a man.”

“I no longer have to worry about the ramifications of

that, Sir.”

Mike loosened the top button of his shirt. Sweat

broke out at the sudden appearance of the dead tech

sergeant. He lowered himself back in the chair and

cleared his throat. “Cyn’s doing just fine.”

“I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on her. She has

accepted my death and is moving on.”

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Mike studied the apparition. Peter’s spirit had

changed since the night on the bridge. Tonight he was

almost translucent.

“You can tell I’m fading,” Peter stated in a matter-of-

fact tone. “It’s near time for me to move on. I’d hoped to

see you two together before that happened.”

Mike wanted to groan. How did he explain to a dead

man that the last thing his wife wanted was someone to

take care of her? “Don’t worry.”

“You never answered me. Are you gonna fight for

her?” “Look, this conversation is way too strange.”

“Do you deny having feelings for Cyn?”

“No. I care—more than I should. She’s not

interested.”

“Up to you to make sure she gets interested, Sir.”

“You’re wrong, Jenks. Cyn’s right. She has to find her

own way this time.”

Mike prepared for an argument and was surprised

when Jenks spoke. “You’re right.” The young man’s spirit

had further faded until it was barely discernible. He

doubted he’d be seeing the young soldier again.

“I’m rooting for you, Sir!” The young soldier vanished

so fast, Mike wondered if he’d imagined the whole

incident.

He bent to unlace his boots. This had been one hell of

a strange night. The woman he’d fallen for didn’t want his

love. Yet, her dead husband was on his side.

He was tempted to punch the wall. He wanted to yell.

Because of Katy sleeping down the hall, he did nothing

but struggle out of his uniform and made a beeline for the

bed. He’d sort it all out in the morning.

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Pam Champagne

The nerves in Cyn’s stomach weren’t fluttering

because her date was late. They churned for Mike. A

month had passed since they’d admitted their growing

feelings. Four weeks of ignoring the sparks ricocheting off

the walls whenever they were in the same room.

Yet, neither made a single move to cross the

imaginary line drawn in the sand.

The tension skyrocketed this afternoon when she’d

told Mike and Katy she wouldn’t be there for supper

because she had a date. She might as well have dropped a

live bomb on the floor if the shocked horror on their faces

was anything to go by.

Cyn cringed at the memory. Katy had run from the

kitchen. After one accusatory glance in her direction,

Mike had followed his daughter without saying a word.

Cyn made her fifth trip across the room and stood in

front of the full-length mirror, twisting her body one way

and then the other. Slip not showing. Hair in place.

Where was John? According to her bedside clock, he was

fifteen minutes late.

She picked up the picture on her bureau and ran her

finger over Peter’s image. Her vision blurred. The frame

clattered to the floor. Mike stared back, instead of Peter.

She squeezed her eyelids tight. When she opened them,

Peter once again smiled at her.

A sharp knock sounded on the door. “Coming,” she

muttered. Another knock. This time loud enough to be

considered rude.

She opened the door and stared in amazement at the

young man standing stiff on the threshold, a frown etched

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on his forehead. Her gaze traveled over his three-piece

suit and came to rest on spiffy black wing-tip shoes.

Somehow this young professional bore no resemblance to

the man with whom she’d shared conversations in the

library. She’d been looking forward to a friendly casual

dinner, sharing a few laughs. Somehow she doubted her

scenario would play out.

“Cynthia, are you ready?” His terse tone grated on

her nerves. “We’ll be late. I made reservations for eight.”

His gaze passed down her body in one quick sweep.

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know she’d come up

lacking. Maybe she should say good night right now and

save them both from a boring evening. “Actually I’ve been

ready for at least thirty minutes. You’re twenty minutes

late.” John’s open-mouthed expression was priceless. She

damn near burst with pride that she’d stood up for

herself. Brushing by, she flounced down the stairs without

looking back to see if he followed.

Once on the highway, John maneuvered the red

sports car like a pro, weaving in and out of traffic.

“Handles like an obedient woman,” he bragged and

ignored the blare of a horn from an outraged motorist he’d

just cut off.

“Excuse me?” She hoped the ice in her voice froze his

ass. His gaze slid to her, and the idiot had the audacity to

grin. “Lighten up. I’m joking.”

Somehow she doubted it.

At sixty miles per hour he managed to read a

billboard touting the Republicans in 2008. “Dream on you

conservative bastards. It’s time for the liberals to have a

say with what goes on in the world.” He reached over and

patted her knee. “Don’t you agree, Cynthia?”

The way he said Cynthia irritated her like a

toothache. “Sorry. I’m a registered Republican.”

“You’re kidding?” He swerved into the passing lane

and barely missed rear-ending a Toyota. “I don’t see you

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as a conservative. How can you back the party that’s put

us in the middle of a bee’s nest in the Middle East?”

“My husband gave his life for his country in Iraq.”

Long moments passed. It didn’t bother her in the

least that she’d more than likely made him

uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, but because of your loss, you of all people

should want the US to pull out of Iraq. It’s all about oil,

you know.”

The throb in her head kept time with the boom of the

bass on the radio. She flicked off the switch and then sat

in painful silence for the rest of the trip.

Mike rolled off the couch and paced the floor. The

more he thought about the way Cyn had dropped the

news of her date, the more pissed he got. Hadn’t she

realized how devastated Katy would be?

Forget Katy. If she’d told him she was moving out, he

wouldn’t have been more surprised. A paperback on a

corner table caught his eye. An espionage thriller.

Perhaps it’d take his mind off what Cyn and her date

were doing right now. He slumped on the couch and

opened to a random page. Five minutes later, he tossed

the book on the floor, lay down and gave his emotions full

rein.

Had he screwed up his chances with Cyn because

he’d taken things too slow? The last thing he’d wanted to

do was rush her into another relationship. Night after

night he’d waited for her to give him a sign. It’d taken all

his willpower not to drag her into his arms.

Plus, he wanted to make damn sure Peter’s spirit had

vanished. Having a ghost pop in and out without warning

was bad enough. No freakin’ way would he make love to

Cyn if there was a chance her dead husband might show

up. Mike checked the time. Idiot, he chided. Three

minutes later than the last time he’d looked.

Mike bolted off the couch at the peel of tires in the

driveway.

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He arrived at the window just in time to see Cyn

climb out of the car, then lean back in. She straightened

and slammed the door. The car left rubber on the asphalt

as it pulled out into the street. She ran toward her

apartment. What the hell? Evidently, the date hadn’t

gone well. He refused to feel guilty about the surge of

satisfaction welling in his chest.

Ten minutes later he knocked on her door. When she

opened it, the fire in her eyes had him rethinking his

visit.

“What do you want?”

Well, that didn’t bode well for his late night visit.

“Are you okay? I couldn’t help but hear your date take off

and—”

Her chin jutted forward. “And what? You came to

gloat?”

Mike reached out and touched her shoulder. “No.

Hopefully, you know me better than that.”

“I’m sorry. Come in.” She turned away. “Right now

I’m so damn mad I could spit nails.”

“What happened? That is, if you want to share,” he

amended quickly.

“John’s a damn Democrat. That’s what’s happened.”

Mike couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Last time I