Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (5 page)

Stepping around the bed, Jeremy went to the window to study the street below. The room didn’t offer much of a view, just a line of row homes. No alleys for stalkers to lurk in. “There’s no way to climb up,” she pointed out. “Not even Spider-Man could get in here.”

“He won’t try to get in.” Jeremy shut the blinds. “Have you invited anyone in recently? Male or female, doesn’t make a difference.”

“Just my friends. Heidi, Suzette, Norelle and her boyfriend Nathan. I’ve known them all for years.”

“No boyfriends? No dates?”

“Not for a while. My last real relationship happened years ago, and it didn’t end well. It kind of soured me on serious dating. You’re the first man I’ve had in here in months.” She blushed furiously. “God, that sounds pathetic.”

“No, it sounds cautious. That’s good. Like you said, there are a lot of screwy people out there.” He turned from the window, ducking to avoid the overhead light. Higher ceiling, bigger bed. So many things she needed.

They returned to the living room. Colleen curled up on the couch. Now that the situation had had time to sink in, she found her anxiety receding before a wholly unexpected wave of outrage. Who were these people, and how dare they do this to her?

Answers danced at the edge of her thoughts, just beyond memory’s reach. She had a sudden flash of an older man who moved the way Jeremy did. She squelched it with the unconscious ease of long practice. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t her mother.

She realized she’d instinctively folded her body into a smaller target and deliberately uncoiled and stretched out her legs. Her childhood had nothing to do with today. The world had been different back then.

A harsh, wooden groan drew her attention back to Jeremy. No amount of self-compression would make him small enough to fit into the rocking chair he’d selected. She couldn’t keep a giggle from bursting free at the sight he presented, a giant on doll furniture. He winced apologetically at the chair’s every creak, as if he expected it to shatter into kindling beneath him at any second.

“Maybe I should sit on the floor,” he said.

“There’s plenty of room over here,” popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. To her horror he took her up on it, abandoning the chair with eager alacrity to claim the other end of the couch. The cushions sagged beneath his weight.

“Better,” he pronounced.

For him, maybe. Twin urges warred within Colleen, between her head and her cunt. The upper half told her to scrunch up against the armrest and keep as much distance between them as possible. The more insistent lower prodded her to crawl into his lap and bury her hands in that thick, shaggy hair for added security. She told both ends to screw themselves and stayed where she was.

Fortunately, Jeremy also held position and briskly got down to business. “Is this the first time you’ve noticed someone watching the school?”

“Not the first time, just the most recent. We get weirdoes every now and then. Guys who sit in their car or stand at the fence and stare at the kids. Sometimes somebody’s ex stops by without their partner’s consent. We always call the cops. This was just the first time that—” She swallowed down the word
scared.
“Really worried me. Are you sure they weren’t after Shayla?”

“I’m pretty sure he had an adult in mind. If this is what I think, they don’t bother with children. Speaking of exes…”

“It wasn’t him. That’s over. He won’t come back, and he sure wouldn’t stalk me. This was a stranger.”

“Then you saw him. What did he look like?”

Colleen frowned. She couldn’t remember a thing now, beyond the coat and the hat. And the eyes. Those stood out with frightening clarity. “Red eyes,” she said. “Over by the mailbox. That can’t be right. They must have been brown.” She looked at Jeremy, almost in accusation. “You were staring right at the mailbox, too. Did you see anybody?”

His own eyes grew guarded. “I didn’t want to scare you, or Shayla. Yes, I got a look at him. Yes, he followed us. I’m pretty sure you’re the target.”

“Why?”

“Why you? No idea. They pick their vics at random. Trouble is, now that he’s fixated on you, he’s sure to try again. His kind’s really single-minded. Since he couldn’t get you at the school or the Stantons’, he’ll come here. By now he’ll know where you live.”

Colleen shuddered. “What does he want?”

“He won’t get it,” Jeremy assured her. “Wallace and I will make sure.”

“We should call the police. Make really sure.”

“It won’t help. These people are slippery. Wallace will take care of it. He knows what he’s doing. Let’s talk about something else. You really grew up in a commune?”

Not her favorite topic, but she jumped at the distraction. “The Woods and the Waters. It was up near the Sierra Nevadas, outside Sacramento. I think it used to be an old Gold Rush town. It was one of those rural back-to-nature things. They did some farming and crafts and made ‘authentic’ Indian blankets to sell to tourists. I wonder if they were growing pot? I can’t remember now.”

“How old were you?”

“I was eight when the commune broke up. Mom, well, she had some problems.” Try
complete break with reality
. “The state put me in a foster home. I got lucky. A nice family adopted me and brought me to Hermosa Beach. I’ve been here ever since.”

“Oh, so you’re adopted, too.”

“Yes, like Shayla.”

“And me. My bio-family died in a house fire when I was little. I was brought up in Tacoma.”

“Washington? How’d you end up all the way down here?”

He shrugged. “It’s a long and boring story. You don’t want to hear it.”

“It looks like we’ve got all night. Unless you can think of something better to do?” Inwardly, Colleen winced.
Way to be subtle, Slut-Lady
.

Jeremy refused to take the bait she dangled. “This commune you lived with. They weren’t one of those survivalist groups or anything like that, were they?”

“Oh geez, no. Just a bunch of retro hippies. They lived off the land and welfare payments and cheating tourists with the fake Indian junk. Why? You don’t think that guy today is connected to them, do you?”

“We shouldn’t rule anything out.”

“We can rule them out,” Colleen said firmly. “Looking back on the whole mess now, I can see what losers they were. They wouldn’t hurt anybody. Anyway, if they wanted me this bad, they had plenty of time to come get me.”

“Maybe they couldn’t find you. Maybe they didn’t know your new family had moved you down here.”

Colleen narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you, some kind of detective or crime fighter or something?”

“What, me?” He snorted. “No, that’s Wallace. I’m not much of a fighter.”

“So if he gets past Wallace, I’m doomed.”

“He won’t get past Wallace. He won’t even try to get inside. We figure he’ll try to lure you to him, like he did this afternoon.”

“Nobody lured me,” Colleen said vehemently. “There wasn’t any voice.”

She could see he didn’t buy it. Even Colleen didn’t buy it. The echoes of that silky voice kept mocking her denial. She couldn’t forget how easily it had oil-slicked over her will. She would have crossed the street and handed herself over to God knows what had Jeremy not stopped her.

Jeremy
. Colleen looked up and was startled to discover how close he’d moved toward her. How close they’d moved to each other. She couldn’t recall just when she’d left the security of the armrest. Yet here she sat in the center of the couch, and here he sat right next to her, his inviting lips not even three inches away.

What was she thinking? Was she thinking at all? His boyfriend was right outside.

She scooted away. “I think I–I’m going to read for a while. Try to relax. In my bedroom. By myself. I’ve got coffee if you want it, or there’s soda and stuff in the fridge. You can watch TV or play the radio or something if you want. I’ll get you a pillow and blankets.”

“That’d be great.” He seemed as surprised as she at their sudden, unexpected proximity. Like her, he hastily retreated to his end of the couch. For a gay man, he was having one tough time keeping his hands off a woman.

For a supposedly decent woman, she was having an even tougher time keeping her hands off someone else’s man.

Colleen bolted up and darted into the bathroom. She rushed through her tooth brushing. No shower, not tonight. Not with Jeremy only a door’s thickness away. Showers sparked thoughts of wet, naked bodies pressed against bathroom tiles while warm water cascaded over skin and the mirror fogged up. She had to bite her lip to keep from groaning aloud.

What the heck? What’s going on? Since when did I turn into such a slut?

Since she’d first looked into Jeremy’s eyes, that’s when. Every time she looked at him, she had to get close to him, touch him. He had become a craving, a hunger. She needed the contact with his body as much as her lungs needed air. From his own behavior, it was obvious he was grappling with the same desires.

This is crazy. Think of something else. How about psycho stalkers? Yeah. There’s a happy thought.

It worked, somewhat. She was able to return to the living room with a pillow and blankets and not let herself drift into his orbit again. He’d gone into the kitchen to make himself coffee. The TV was on, tuned to a sports channel. She dumped her bundle onto the couch.

“Here you go. Need anything else?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.” He gripped the sink with one hand, as if letting go would send him rushing straight into her arms. He looked at her then quickly away. Embarrassment tightened his jaw.

Oh God. No longer concealed by the pillow and blankets, her breasts had come to attention, her nipples straining against the cotton confines of her blouse. They ached for the relief only a man’s hands could provide. Colleen blushed and dropped her stare. It arrowed straight to Jeremy’s crotch without any effort on her part. The source of his own discomfort formed a huge bulge in his jeans. Nothing short of moist lips and a welcoming mouth would knock that puppy down. If she stretched her jaw wide enough—

“I’m—” Her voice cracked. She tried again. “I’m going to bed.” What a thing to say, given the state they were in. She kept her stare fixed determinedly on the floor.

“Okay,” he croaked back. “Yell if you need anything.”

He’d provide it, too, and without hesitation. Anything she wanted, even with his partner right outside. His straining groin and the impressions her prickle picked up on made that as clear as California’s sky. All she need do was give the word.

Colleen bit down hard on the word and scurried back to her bedroom. She shut the door and locked it, more for his protection than her own.

Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind—
Guess what’s number one?
her inner Norelle voice gleefully mocked—so she plucked a book at random from the pile of paperbacks on her nightstand and tried to relax enough to read. Fifteen minutes later, she slammed it irritably back onto the pile, having spent the time staring at the same two paragraphs. Apparently not even Grisham could close her eyes tonight.

Instead, she lay awake and listened to the sounds of the man in the other room. These consisted of the low murmur of the TV and the groans of protest from her couch every time he shifted his weight. At length he got up. She followed the sound of his footfalls from the living room to the bathroom. He didn’t clump as Colleen expected from someone his size. He almost seemed to whisper over the floor.

Again distant memories stirred. His quiet steps reminded Colleen of someone a long time ago who could move through dry leaves without making them crackle or tread through dirt without leaving tracks. Then the bathroom door clacked shut and Colleen lost the thought or perhaps buried it again.