Charlotte Boyett-Compo- Windspectre (4 page)

Fear permeated every pore in Cathleen's body and dried up the saliva in her mouth. She couldn't swallow past the lump in her throat anyway. Standing there feeling as though something unseen was crawling all over her, she was beginning to think she'd start screaming and be unable to stop.

"Get yourself together!" she hissed.

The longer she stared at her shoes, the more convinced she was something was hiding there. One way or another, she had to know. Standing there frustrated with her dread building in increments was solving nothing.

She glanced at the open closet. Cheap wire hangers hung there and if she could unbend two or three and twist them together, she would have something to poke at the shoes. Putting the travel bag on the vanity, she eased over to unhook a trio of the hangers and began unbending the spiraled wire on the neck of the hanger, straightening each one as best she could before twisting the three together to make a flimsy, crooked prod of sorts.

It took her two tries to snare the shoe that was right side up with the hook of her prod. She managed to lift the shoe, shake it then drop it, turning it over in case something lurked inside. Satisfied nothing did, she pulled it toward her, stopped, then thrust the prod down into the toe. When nothing scurried or slithered out, she breathed a sigh of relief, dragging the shoe to her. Just to be on the safe side, she repeatedly poked the wire into the shoe several times. Feeling nothing, she bent down and picked it up, her heart in her throat as she gave it a vigorous shake.

Though relieved the shoe appeared empty, she nevertheless looked down into it before dropping it to the floor and slipping her cold foot inside. Even then she thought she could feel something wriggling over her instep though that part of her foot wasn't even in the shoe to begin with.

Stabbing the prod at the other shoe, turning it over, she waited to see if something came out before rocking it back and forth on the floor then running the wire shaft into the toe. She could feel nothing there and nothing came running up the wire to attach itself to her face and send eggs down her gullet. After being just as careful—if not more so—with that shoe as she'd been with the first, she finally had it on her foot, though she was still reluctant to get near the bed.

Once more trying to decide if she was feeling sick, she decided she was more scared than anything else. Whatever had bitten her had to still be in the room, but apparently it wasn't lethal. Not knowing how long ago the bite had occurred, she knew she needed to get a medical evaluation as soon as possible. The only way to do that was to leave her room or call 911.

Standing there chewing on her lip, Cathleen finally managed to get herself in hand and picked up her travel
bag again, holding it to her chest. She started skirting the bed in which she'd slept, eyes glued to the floor around the beds. Her purse and overnight bag were at the foot of the bed she'd not slept in but she hated getting close to the bed, for the spread ran all the way to the floor and if something was hiding behind it, it could leap out at her. Taking a deep breath, she hurried to the door, disengaged the lock, and opened it, pushing the portal wide. After taking another deep, ragged breath, she ran to her purse and overnighter, threw the purse and travel bag into the opened overnighter, slammed the top down and plucked it up to tear out of the room, nearly breaking her ankle when she stepped off the concrete walkway, wincing as the bright morning light stabbed brutally into her suddenly sensitive eyes.

The key to her car was inside her purse that was inside the overnight so she slung the bag on the hood of her car and opened the lid. It wasn't until she took the purse out that she realized that whatever had bitten her could have wriggled or slithered into the bag. She shot backward as though she'd been yanked by invisible hands, staring with wide eyes at the opened suitcase on the hood of her car.

Another minute or so passed before she could put a trembling hand into her purse to retrieve her key. At least her purse had been shut all night so nothing could have gotten inside it. Pushing the trunk release on the key fob, she somehow found the courage to get close enough to the overnighter to shut the lid, scooping it up again to carry it to the back of the car where she dumped the contents into the maw of the trunk, straining to see if anything moved among her possessions. When nothing did, she let out another harsh breath and carefully rearranged her clothes in the overnighter, grateful the two expensive suits from which she would choose to wear to her first meeting with her boss at WindGenInc hung unwrinkled and unsoiled in their plastic sheaths on the hook in the backseat. Her only concern was finding a rest area at which to change before reaching her destination.

Shutting the trunk lid, she left the car and headed for the motel office, intending to tell whoever was on duty what had happened, but she'd taken no more than four steps when all thought suddenly evaporated from her mind and she forgot whatever it was she'd been about to do. She stood there staring at the motel office—her brows drawn together—then calmly turned around and went back to her car, punching the key fob to unlock the driver door.

"Must not be late for my first day," she said as she opened the door and got inside.

By the time she had a pair of sunglasses in place on her face and drove away from the hotel, all thought of the time she'd spent agonizing over what had bitten her was completely forgotten and the twin puncture wounds had faded away.

Chapter Three

Melissa VanPelt kept up a steady stream of chatter as she ushered Cathleen down the corridor and into the presence of the owner of WindGenInc, Anthony Boudreaux. The cheery secretary introduced them, then with a bright smile backed out of the Boudreaux's office, closing the door softly behind her.

"Did you have a good trip up, Cathy?" Boudreaux inquired. He was sitting at the largest, most expensive looking desk Cathleen had ever seen. "Or would you prefer I call you Cathleen?"

"Cathy is fine," she said, looking into a pair of sky blue eyes that were sharp and appeared to miss nothing. "It rained all the way."

"That makes driving tiring, doesn't it?" he asked, steepling his fingers as he gazed at her.

"I've never cared for bad weather," she admitted.

"Neither have I," he agreed.

After almost an hour of discussion concerning her new job, what was expected of her, and various and sundry other important matters, Boudreaux suggested Cathleen settle in to the company owned apartment that was being provided for her as part of the hiring packet and then report to work the following day.

"You look a bit tired to me. I was going to suggest we have lunch since it's a bit late in the morning for breakfast, but I think you need to rest," he said. "Why not get a good night's sleep and be fresh and ready for your first day in the morning?"

That sounded good to her and she thanked Boudreaux for his thoughtfulness. Upon leaving his office, she was shown her own and was quite taken with its spaciousness and genuinely liked the young woman who would be her personal assistant right from the beginning.

"If you need anything, just ask," Anita Price said. "I'm here to make your job as easy as I can. When you're ready, I'll take you to your apartment. Oh, may I have your car keys? I'll have someone bring in your bag and put it in your apartment."

Cathleen handed over her keys. "Could we take a stroll through the building so I can acquaint myself before we do that?" she asked.

"Of course," Anita replied and Cathleen's first personal assistant led the way.

"Mr. Boudreaux said if you didn't feel up to going to the cafeteria for lunch, to remind you that you can have room service bring you up a tray," Anita said.

"There is room service?" Cathleen asked, eyes wide.

"Oh yes," Anita replied. "Twenty-four hours a day. Just dial 7 on your phone."

Those she met on the pocket-size tour of the facility all appeared to be friendly, helpful individuals and Cathleen knew immediately that she was going to enjoy her job at WindGenInc. As soon as she saw the furnished apartment that would be her home, she knew she'd lucked into the position of a lifetime.

Her luxurious and well-appointed apartment was on the fifth floor along with three other apartments—that of the Director of Research, the Comptroller, and WindGenInc's husband and wife legal team. The sixth floor belonged entirely to Boudreaux.

"The first floor is, of course, the business offices," Anita told her. "Second floor is where the cafeteria, gymnasium, a small convenience store, and pool/spar areas are located. There's also a barber shop, beauty salon, dry cleaners, and nurse's office on that floor. We even have a small theater where the latest movies are shown and a very pleasant little pub if you need a little fortification at the end of a tiring day. Mr. Boudreaux has tried to make the facility as self-efficient as possible so his employees have very little in the way of wants and needs that aren't provided for them."

"What about the research center, itself?" Cathleen asked. "Where is it housed?"

"The third floor is entirely dedicated to the research for our turbines and wind generators. Fourth floor is a state of the art lab that is off limits to all but the scientists who work there. You just about have to have a PhD in nuclear physics to get in there! Oh, and there is a helo pad above the sixth floor."

"Did I see a golf course on the way in?" Cathleen asked.

"Yes, and there are tennis courts, biking and jogging paths, squash and handball courts as well as a large outdoor pool," Anita replied. "The dormitories for those who wish to live on site are at the far end of the property."

"Very impressive," Cathleen said.

"There is maid service, by the way, and if there is something you want from town, Max Guthrie, our jack of all trades, makes a trip in at least once a day in the van so just give him your list and he'll procure whatever it is you need if you don't have the time or the inclination to go into Etheridge, that's the closest decent sized town."

The more she learned about WindGenInc the better Cathleen liked it and when she was told there were clubs among the workers where chess players, electronic gamers, card and board game enthusiasts and various other hobbyists met, she felt very good about her change of employment.

When Anita left her with the news that Cathleen's personal belongings from her old apartment would be arriving later in the day, Cathleen took off her shoes and flopped down on the plush corduroy sofa that looked out over the elegantly coiffed gardens edging a spectacular crescent-shaped pond upon which swans and geese lazily glided.

"I am really going to like it here," she said, tucking her legs under her. She lay her head on the sofa's back and closed her tired eyes. The sunlight—though not as intense as it had been when she was outside for all the windows in the facility had been deeply tinted to keep out intrusive glare, still bothered her and made her very sleepy. It wasn't long before she floated away on a soft, fleecy cloud, deep in REM sleep.

* * * *

"Come to me, Cathleen,"
he said and his sensual voice made her ache in all the right places.

He was waiting there in the darkening shadows of the deep afternoon with his hand outstretched to her. His handsome face held just a hint of a smile and those brilliant amber eyes were glowing with unrepentant desire. The soft silk shirt he wore tucked into a pair of black leather pants was as white as snow and billowed at the sleeve as the wind plucked at it. It was opened halfway down his broad chest so she could see the dark hair that matted his upper body. Over him were the sweeping arms of a tall, majestic oak, the leaves of which rustled gently in the breeze. Behind him, the waters of the pond glistened in the dying light from the scarlet sun.

She moved toward him on bare feet, keenly aware of the swish of the long white cotton skirt that flowed around her legs, the white peasant's blouse that left her shoulders bare to the air caressing them. With every step she took, she could feel the impression of the lush green grass beneath the soles of her feet and the coolness of the blades tickling her ankles.

A sweet scent of gardenia drifted on the breeze and swirled around her to drape her in its precious perfume. She inhaled deeply, drawing that wonderful fragrance deep into her soul.

She held her hand out to him as she drew nearer and their fingertips touched. He threaded his fingers through hers and pulled her gently to him.

"I have waited all day for this,"
he told her. His free hand went to her hair and he plowed his fingers through the dark tresses then reached down to capture her other hand, pulling her arms behind her so her breasts were hard against his chest, his hands imprisoning hers at the small of her back.
"I could not rest wanting you as I do."

"Who are you?" she asked, looking up into his beautiful eyes.

"Whoever you want me to be,"
he answered.
"Whatever you wish me to be."

She smiled softly. "I need a name."

His full lips—the lower just a bit larger than the upper—moved into a lazy grin.
"You can call me Syn,"
he said in a husky voice.

"My Syn," she said.

His smile widened
. "Aye, my Cathleen. That is precisely what I am."

She opened her lips to him as he lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss stole her breath as he pressed her to him with such heat, such firm but gentle force, she felt every inch of his body from chest to thigh against her.

"Do you want me, Cathleen?"
he whispered against her lips.

"With all my heart," she answered.

His tongue slid between her lips to claim her, thrusting smoothly, hungrily against her own, sweeping across her teeth, along the pallet of her mouth, at the corners of her lips. As he kissed her, he molded his lower body to hers, allowing her to feel the thick, hard erection that pushed at his pants.

"Do you want all I have to offer you?"

"Yes," she said on a long sigh.