Edge of Midnight (10 page)

It started with that summer school course. She’d gotten a C+ in chemistry her senior year, trashing her perfect four point average. Her mother’s response had been to bully the school into letting Liv retake a summer school equivalent with the hopes of adjusting her grade.

It was a waste of time, since she was already accepted into the college she wanted, and had no further interest in chemistry. But no. That C+ was a moral failing, to be corrected by wholesome discipline.

Her mother never imagined what kind of trouble was going to saunter into Schaeffer Auditorium. So much for wholesome discipline.

The lecture hall had been nearly empty. Most of the students were swimming at the Falls. Liv had been there, though, dutifully scribbling notes. It was surprisingly interesting. The grad student lecturing was great. Kev McCloud was his name, a tall, skinny guy with blond hair that stuck out all over his head. When he talked about chemistry, his eyes lit up like green flashlights. That enthusiasm was contagious.

Then the door to the hall creaked open. She turned to look, and bye bye, carbon structures. That was the last note she ever took.

The guy in the doorway looked as out of place as a wild panther. Luxurious blond hair. Sleeves ripped off a denim work shirt, showing off thick, ropy arms, broad shoulders. The lecturer, who she learned later was his twin, said “Don’t come to my class late, you furry little punk.”

Shocked murmurs and giggles swept the room. The pantherlike apparition was unfazed. “Lighten up, you tight-assed geek,” he replied.

The guy lecturing rolled his eyes and launched back into his lecture. The panther turned, scanned the hall. His eyes lit on her.

She looked down, face hot, heart tripping, as he paced to the back of the auditorium. He found her aisle and began slithering towards her between rows of seats. She was hiding in the back behind her hair, the hall was nearly empty, and he was coming to sit with her. She’d entered a parallel universe. The sky had fallen. Time ran backwards. Pigs flew.

“Is this chair free?” His voice had been so low and soft.

This one, plus ninety others exactly like it is what she should have said, to spare herself a decade and a half of obsession and regret. But she hadn’t.

She’d jerked her head yes. Sealed her own fate.

His body lowered itself with sinuous, catlike grace into the chair. His shoulders were so broad, he exceeded the space alotted to him.

His bare arm touched her own. Oh. He was so…so hot.

His arm was thick with sinewy muscles, glinting with sun-bleached hair. She was frantically conscious of that scorching contact between his arm and hers. It was connected to every nerve in her body.

He smelled like herbal shampoo. His hands, resting on jeans-clad thighs, were long and battered, covered with scratches, ink stains.

Things like this never happened to her. She let her hair fall across her face and vibrated with emotion, studying whatever she could without turning her head. The holes in his jeans, the split tops of his boots, mended with silver duct tape. The class ended. People rustled and murmured. It made no sense that such a gorgeous guy should single her out. There had to be a punch line. She braced herself for it.

Then he brushed her hair to one side and looked behind it.

She made a squeaking sound that only a dog could hear. Every strand of her hair transformed into an exquisitely receptive sensory organ. Hot-cool ripples of excitement chased themselves over her skin.

He looked into her face, his eyes full of intense curiosity. She was immobile, open-mouthed. Vibrating. Seconds passed.

“Wow,” he whispered.

And that was all it took. She was his. Heart and soul. Lost.

Liv dashed the tears out of her eyes and heaved herself up off the bed. She tossed her smoky, nasty clothes into a pile and plucked her cream silk robe out of her suitcase with the tips of her fingers, hoping not to smudge it. Which reminded her of the greasy handprint on Sean’s T-shirt.

Of course. True to form. Everything referred right back to Sean, in an endless, obsessive feedback loop. Seeing him had brought back so vividly the way he’d made her feel that summer. Strong and connected, so aware of the grace around her. Certain that all her dreams could come true, because Sean’s very existence was proof of that.

How unbelievably innocent she’d been. How stupid.

The closest she’d come to that feeling, post-Sean, was when she finally decided to open her bookstore. Well, hell. So much for that. Maybe it was just a mirage. An ephemeral cocktail of endorphins.

She stared at her pale, pinched face, the hell-hag snarl of hair. She must have looked like such horrific crap when he’d seen her today.

And it did…not…matter. Goddamnit. Let it go. Forever. Let a hot shower wash it away.

Done, purified, she wrapped a towel around herself, opened the door—and would have screamed, if her lungs had been capable of sucking in air.

Sean McCloud was sitting on her bed.

Ouch. On the plus side, it had been a fabulous stroke of luck to catch her in the shower, giving him the perfect opportunity to dust her stuff with beacons. Tonight he was a firm adherent to the classic McCloud school of thought; plant bugs first, apologize later.

He’d been trying to figure out how to spare her the adrenaline rush when she came out of the bathroom, to say nothing of the embarrassment should she prove to be buck naked. Unfortunately, he hadn’t come up with any bright ideas in time. His brains were fried.

The door burst open, and Liv marched out, no longer wrapped in a towel. Her skimpy silk robe was swathed around her so tight, it showed every detail of her taut nipples. Christ, she was pretty. He loved that uppity, chin-in-the-air posture.

“You practically gave me a heart attack.” Her voice was chilly with royal hauteur. “Are you nuts? What are you doing? Did you sneak in?”

He snorted. “Can you see your mother inviting me in?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question. It’s snotty and annoying. What are your intentions, Sean? Should I scream for help?”

“Please don’t.” His smile faltered. “I didn’t know your number. Your parents would have me wrapped in chains and sunk into a lake if they saw me, so sneaking was my only option. Sorry I scared you.”

“How did you get in?” She flounced past him, dug through her suitcase for her comb. “I thought there were policemen outside. I thought they had alarms all over the place. For all the good it’s done me, I might as well be in my own place.”

He shrugged. “The cops didn’t see me. I slithered alongside the hedge, climbed the maple, crawled onto the oak that grows up next to the roof. Then I came in through the attic gable window, which was not alarmed, for your information. Through the crawl space, down through the trapdoor into the laundry room…and here I am. Piece of cake.”

“What enterprise.” She wrenched the comb through her hair.

“I wanted to see how safe you were in the bosom of your family.”

He couldn’t stop staring, though he could tell it made her uncomfortable. She pulled her robe tight, evidently unaware of how the sheer silk showcased her awesome body. Her white throat bobbed.

“So?” she demanded. “What did you conclude? How safe am I?”

“Not at all,” he said flatly. “If T-Rex is a tenth as good as me, he could be sitting right where I am now. I’m betting he is. Somebody should tell your folks this. That somebody probably should not be me.”

“Yes, they’re prejudiced,” she admitted. “But if you hadn’t stopped us from getting into the car, I’d be dead right now.”

“There is that,” Sean agreed. “Did that earn me some points?”

“With who?” She laughed nervously. “With my mother?”

“I don’t give a shit about your mother. I’m only interested in you.”

She fended him off with sarcasm. “I’m so honored,” she said. “But you were way, way down there into the negative numbers, point-wise.”

His mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “Am I up to zero yet?”

She dragged the comb through another tangled lock. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know why you’re here, what you want, why you care. What does zero mean? A blank slate? Like nothing ever happened between us? I’m sorry, but I just can’t pretend that.”

He shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

They stared at each other until Liv’s eyes dropped. She dug the comb into another thick snarl, her fingers trembling.

So she wasn’t immune. Angry, but not indifferent. Triumph leaped inside him, like flames. He wrenched his gaze away from her face. The wad of condoms was stiff in his jeans pocket, digging into his thigh. T-Rex. He had come here to talk to her about T-Rex.

“So you have no clue who this guy is?” he asked. “Most stalkers are known to their victims.”

“Yes, I know that,” she said shakily. “But I have no idea.”

“No jealous ex-boyfriends?”

She shook her head again. “Not a one.”

“I don’t see how an ex-boyfriend of yours could be anything but jealous, princess.”

The statement hung in the air. She lifted her chin. “Are you jealous, Sean?”

He clenched down on the hot flare of excitement. “What, you mean, I count as an ex-boyfriend? I rate the list? I’m honored.”

Her gaze was penetrating “Don’t wiggle out of the question.”

He took a deep breath, and threw it out there. “Is this a sneaky way of asking if it was me who burned your store and rigged a bomb in your car? Is that what those idiots have been telling you?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“My brothers can vouch for me, if there’s any doubt,” he told her. “But even if I were so jealous I was sick with it, I would never hurt you, Liv. Not you, nor any other innocent person. Never. Is that clear?”

She stared into his eyes, and nodded. “That’s clear,” she said.

“You believe me?” He could hardly believe it.

“I believe you.”

He let out a jerky sigh as something inside him finally relaxed.

“I still want to know how you knew about the bomb,” she said.

Sean stared down at the pink hooked rug. “It’ll sound strange.”

“Try me.”

It took a while to puzzle out the best way to describe something so intangible. “I have…feelings. When I’m in a combat situation, I get warnings. Prickles on my neck, tingling in my balls. I was trained to act on it without thinking. It only works if you trust it blindly.”

Her clear white brow furrowed. “You mean, like, intuition?”

“You could call it that,” he said. “Maybe it comes from growing up with my dad, I imagine. You know about his illness, right?”

“Yes, I heard that he was—”

“A nutcase? Yeah. He saw danger everywhere. Every place was a potential minefield. Anything, a pen, a jar of nails, a carton of milk, could be a bomb in disguise. It was stressful, living with the guy.”

“Oh. Uh, wow,” she murmured. “I see how that might—”

“Skew your perspective, yeah,” he finished, matter-of-factly. “My brothers and I didn’t have any other point of reference. Dad’s bad guys were behind every tree.” He paused, reflecting. “It’s not that far from reality, now that I think about it. Look at T-Rex. You never know.”

She was shaken. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad for me,” he said impatiently. “I’m just showing you my train of reasoning. The letter was part of it. You said T-Rex wanted to make you burn. He used the word ‘explosive.’ That made me think about Kev’s truck exploding, which reminded me of a dream I had. Kev was in it, and he was worried about your car.”

She was oddly gratified by that. “My car? Kev? Really?”

“Yeah. So I saw you and Madden walking towards your car, and it all came together. The note, the explosion, the dream.” He lifted his hands. “There it is. My convoluted mental processes laid bare.”

Her thoughtful eyes stayed on him, making him twitch. “This is the part where you tell me I’m a lunatic, right?”

“I don’t think you’re a lunatic,” she said. “Or if you are, I’m lucky that you are. I’d be blown to bits if you weren’t. So thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t have any choice.”

She looked perplexed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “It means what it means. I’m not playing word games. It’s not something I did voluntarily, so thanks are meaningless.”

Liv wrapped her arms across her tits. He got real busy trying not to think about how soft and lush and hot she must be under there, all perfumed from her various girl goops. He forced his mind back on track.

“I was wondering if you’d let me look at T-Rex’s e-mails,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

The question stymied him for a moment, but there was no reason not to tell her the naked truth. “Because I’m interested. Because I don’t want you to get hurt. Because I’m so curious, it’s fucking killing me.”

“Ah. Well. If you put it that way,” she murmured.

She pulled out a laptop out of her suitcase, sat down and tippety tapped on it. The light from the screen lit up her face, serenely lovely in concentration. She gave him a quick smile, and laid the opened computer on his knees. “I opened the folder. There are nine of them.”

The dates ranged the past three weeks. He clicked and read them in sequence. They were just as she had described. Pseudo-poetic slime. Clingy declarations of obsessive love, minute observations of her physical charms, comments on her clothing and activities. The last three had suggestions that grew more sexually explicit with each succeeding letter. His jaw tightened as he read them. Scumbag asshole.

He nodded, snapped her laptop closed, and handed it back to her.

“So? What do you think?” she asked, setting it aside.

“My first impression is self-conscious, artificial,” he said. “Like he’s following a template.”

“The fire and the bomb weren’t artificial,” she said.

“No, they sure weren’t,” he agreed. “Thanks for letting me look.”

“You barely looked.” Her tone was faintly accusatory. “It took you, what, two minutes?”

“I have a photographic memory,” he told her. “I’ll be reading those e-mails all night long.” His gaze swept the dim room and came to rest on the chemistry textbook on the bedside table. He leafed through it. “Wow, here’s a blast from the past. I thought you hated this thing.”

“I did hate it. I only liked it when your brother was explaining it.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, Kev was a genius at making that stuff interesting. He got his undergrad degree in two years. Could have done it in less, if he hadn’t had to work nights. He was already working on his thesis when he…” He stopped, swallowed. “Ah, shit. Never mind.”

“You were pretty brilliant at it yourself,” she said, to break the poignant silence. “You didn’t even need the textbook.”

His short laugh hurt his burning throat. “Son of a bitch cost eighty bucks. Why buy it when you can read the one at the library?”

“You never took notes at the lectures, either, but you always remembered everything,” she said. “It made me so jealous.”

He flipped the textbook shut. “Dad taught us to remember what we heard. For him, taking notes was a sign of mental sloppiness.”

“Wow,” she murmured. “That’s rigorous.”

“Rigorous. Yeah. Good word to describe Eamon McCloud. The trick is to make your selections as the data comes in. You organize the important stuff. The rest you toss into the garbage.” He paused. “I throw away the garbage. But I remember all the important stuff perfectly.”

Her eyes grew wary at his tone. “Oh yeah? And what stuff is that?” She picked up the comb and dug it into another hank of her hair.

He flinched when she yanked it through. “For Christ’s sake, would you stop that? Give me that comb.” He plucked it out of her hands and held it out of reach when she tried to grab it back.

She lunged for it. “Sean, this is not funny—”

“Sit,” he ordered. “On the bed.” A brief wrestling match ensued which he promptly won, and soon she was seated on the bed, clamped in the vee of his thighs. He grabbed a lock of her hair and started in on it. “Where were we? Oh, yeah. We were talking about what’s important enough to remember, and what’s insignificant enough to forget.”

The position was intimate. Her silk-clad hips were so smooth, so hot where they touched the inside of his thighs. His body thrummed.

“Sean,” she whispered. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

“Your hair will be,” he assured her. “Just relax, and let me be your lady-in-waiting for a few minutes. It’s no big deal.”

She was silent as he worked slowly up the length of the lock of hair, smoothing out every little tangle until it combed smooth and easy down the entire length. He laid that lock over her shoulder and chose another one, taking it patient and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Drawing it out, as long as he possibly could.

“So, ah, what do you think is important enough to remember?” she inquired, in a brisk, let’s-move-on type of voice.

He draped a smooth, perfect lock of hair over her shoulder, and chose another one to lavish his attention on.

“You,” he said.

Oh dear. This was like one of her private middle-of-the-night fantasies. Sean, materializing in her bedroom and telling her she was important to him. She could not fall for this lethally dangerous hooey.

“Oh, get out,” she quavered. “Let go of me. This is a bad idea.”

He grabbed her around the waist as she tried to get up. “I remember every detail,” he said. “From the moment I first saw you. What you wore, how your hair was dressed, the smell of your shampoo. Everything. 3-D, full sensory overload. I can’t shake it.”

She twisted and gave him a quelling glance. “Shut up, Sean. That is just so much calculated bullshit, and I’m not falling for it.”

“The first day, at the construction site, you wore a white blouse,” he said softly. “Your skirt was blue. Your hair hung down to your ass.”

“Construction site?” She frowned. “I met you at Schaeffer Auditorium. At your brother’s class.”