False Security (2 page)

Mark locked the
front doors of the bookstore after his long day. Time had dragged its feet
against his ego from the second Rachel gave him the brush-off. He’d been so
sure she would say yes. Girls never said no.

He flipped a switch and darkness
claimed the store. His eyes adjusted, and he moved through the shadowed rows of
books to a door with a red and white “Employees Only” sign. He entered the
storage room and maneuvered around the racks containing books and supplies.
Searching for anything out of place, he glanced at the shelves, and stopped to
straighten up the cleaning supplies.

Mark placed a hand over his
mouth and yawned. The past two weeks, he had worked twice as hard to make up
for Greg’s absence. Mark’s body never missed an opportunity to remind him of
its limitations, but the frequent visits of their newest patron kept him going.

Mark shook the thought out of
his head. At twenty-nine, he reveled in his bachelor status. Greg nagged him to
settle down, reminding him he couldn’t chase women for the rest of his life,
but Mark never listened.

Commitment didn’t scare him.
Anna turned Greg’s life around for the better, and Mark dove into the role of
best man at their wedding. Yet when Greg tossed the garter belt, Mark thrust
his hands in his pockets. Standing in a crowd of men cheered on by zealous
girlfriends with weddings twinkling in their eyes, Mark stepped away from the
action.

Mark relished his perfect life,
and he controlled everything the world threw at him. He had no boss looming
over him, no landlord collecting rent, and no significant other monitoring him.
He needed nothing else to keep him happy.

Though Rachel declined to have a
cup of coffee with him, he shouldn’t have asked in the first place. Out of all
the women in the world, she had the potential to bring complications into his
otherwise uncomplicated life.

The silver lining of the
rejection cloud bringing him comfort, Mark activated the security alarm and
opened the back door. The chilly night greeted him, and he regretted not
grabbing a jacket at home that morning. The automatic door lock on the backdoor
engaged itself, and he took a few steps outside into the cool night air. He
froze in mid-step.

Rachel Thomas stood in front of
his old Chevy pickup truck.

Positive she would disappear, he
closed his eyes. When he reopened them, she shoved her hands into the pockets
of a formfitting black jacket and smiled. Under the glow of the parking lot
lights, a crisp May breeze moved her hair around her shoulders. Moistening his
lips, he started toward her.

“I assumed this was your truck,”
she said.

“You assumed correctly.” His
hyperactive nerves made his voice sound foreign. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,
and I’d like to have that cup of coffee with you. That is, if it’s not too late
to take you up on your offer.”

Mark smiled. “I’d love to have a
cup of coffee. I know this great place on 21st Street—”

“I live right over there,” she
said, pointing to the neighborhood behind the store, “and I have a coffee
maker.”

“That sounds fine, too.” Not
seeing another vehicle with his truck in the parking lot, he asked, “Did you
walk here?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me drive you home.”

Following her directions, he
steered his pickup through a sleepy neighborhood and into the driveway of a
light blue house with white trim. The sidewalk led past a willow tree
threatening to overtake the lawn. On the front porch, the wind pushed a wooden
swing along to the tempo of rustling leaves. Each creak of the swing invited
them to sit and enjoy its relaxing movements.

Rachel pulled a set of keys out
of her jacket pocket. Mark’s curiosity grew with each of the three deadbolts
she unlocked, all requiring different keys. After they entered the house, she
relocked the deadbolts along with two chain locks.

“You do know you’re in Wichita,
Kansas, right?” Mark asked. “We have our share of incidents, but it’s not the
crime capital of the world, especially not this neighborhood.”

“We rent this place from an elderly
woman,” Rachel said. “She probably feels safer having so many locks. Oh, and
the house came furnished and decorated as is.”

Mark followed her into the
living room and realized why she made the last statement. The avocado green
couch resembled one his parents owned during his youth, and the blue and orange
plaid recliner complemented the orange walls. “It’s very colorful,” he said.
They walked up two steps of shag carpet into a kitchen with yellow countertops,
accented by daisy wallpaper.

“I don’t quite know what to
think about the house, but Danielle loves it.”

“Is Danielle your roommate?”
Mark asked.

“She’s more like a sister to me
than a roommate.”

Not hearing any other noise in
the house, Mark asked, “Is she here?”

“She’s out at some club, getting
into trouble, I’m sure.”

“I take it you don’t approve.”

“It’s not like I don’t approve
of her going, but clubs and bars aren’t for me. I would rather be at home
reading than in a club sitting at a corner table, sober enough to know most of
the people dancing look like complete fools.”

Mark chuckled. “That’s a good
way of looking at it.”

“Danielle’s a good girl, though.
She doesn’t go there to drink or pick up guys. She only wants to get out and
dance for a few hours. It’s her release from the stress of life.”

“She never brings anyone home?”

“Like I said, she’s a good
girl.” She opened a cabinet beside the sink and removed a coffee can and a box
of filters. Turning to Mark, she said, “There’s a catch to this whole coffee
thing.”

“What?”

A corner of her mouth turned
upward. “I have no idea how to make coffee.”

“You have a coffee maker and you
don’t know how to make coffee?”

“Danielle always makes it. I
never paid attention before. All I know is you add water and hot coffee
magically appears from nowhere.”

“This particular coffee maker is
much easier to operate than you think,” he said. Taking the box of filters and
can of coffee grounds from her hands, he explained his actions while he worked.
“You put four scoops of grounds into the filter, then pour water into the top.
That pushes the hot water from the reservoir through the filter, and gives you
instant, hot coffee.” As soon as he stopped speaking, the first drops of coffee
fell into the carafe.

“I’ll never remember that.
Kitchen appliances and I don’t get along.” Rachel wrinkled her nose. “I guess
it’s the kitchen in general that doesn’t like me.”

He laughed with her. “Any other
catches I should know about?” he asked.

“Nothing comes to mind.” Rachel
leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. Her mouth twisted into a
crooked smile. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself? I only know you
own a bookstore and you have great taste in mystery novels.”

“I wondered about that. How do
you know I’m not some deranged, psychotic lunatic?”

“Outside of being able to tell
you’re not one, ask me what I do when I’m not in your bookstore.”

“What do you do when you’re not
in my bookstore?”

“I volunteer at a domestic
violence shelter, where I teach self-defense.”

“So if I was psychotic—”

“You’d probably end up in the
hospital with any number of contusions and broken bones.”

He raised a brow. “Good thing
I’m not psychotic. Now, I know you’re new in town, but you never said where
you’re from.”

“Danielle and I moved here from
Indianapolis, but I’m originally from California.” She pulled two mugs off the
tree on the counter and handed them to him. “Are you from here?”

“Born and raised.” He filled the
cups with coffee. “It might be a little strong. Do you take it black?”

“Yes.” She accepted the cup from
him, and sipped the coffee. “It’s good,” she said, and sat down at the table.
“Much better than Danielle’s coffee. She makes it so weak, and then loads it up
with cream and sugar.”

Mark grabbed the handle of his
mug. The backs of his fingers grazed the hot ceramic, and the heat from the
coffee burned into his skin. He juggled the hot mug, and chose a chair adjacent
to her. The fragrant steam of the coffee wafted into his nostrils, and the
liquid warmed its way down his throat.

“Why did you move to Kansas?” he
asked. “Do you have family in the area?”

Rachel set her mug down on the
table. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she said, “I don’t have any family. My
parents both died when I was young and I have no brothers or sisters.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was quite some time ago.
They were in a car accident. A drunk driver ran them off the road.”

“That’s terrible,” Mark said.
“You don’t have any aunts, uncles, or grandparents?”

“Both of my parents were only
children and my grandparents passed before I was born. The death of my parents
left me an orphan.”

“Did you go live with a foster
family?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice
since I didn’t have anyone else. Does your family live here?”

“Greg and his wife, Anna, are
the only family I have. Mom died when I was ten and Dad had his heart attack a
year later. Greg was twenty-one when Dad died, so he assumed responsibility for
me. I was lucky to have him.”

“Sounds like it. I was also ten
when my parents died, so I know how hard it is. Your parents didn’t have
family, either?”

“They did and I imagine they’re
still alive somewhere, but I never knew them outside of a few scattered
photographs. I think both my parents were the proverbial black sheep.” Not
wanting to scare her off with the dark conversation, he changed the subject.
“What does your roommate do for a living?”

“She waitresses at some
restaurant by the mall. Dos Amigos or something like that. All I know is she
brings home delicious enchiladas for me. She also volunteers part-time at the
shelter on her days off.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but if you
volunteer at the shelter, and your roommate is a waitress who also does
volunteer work, how do you guys live?”

Rachel shifted in her chair, and
Mark worried he pushed the conversation too far with the personal questions.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t ask you things like that.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel said. She
moistened her lips. “My parents left me a trust fund, which allows me the
freedom to do volunteer work instead of sitting in a cubicle all day.”

“Ah, so you were a rich kid,
huh?”

Rachel laughed. “I guess so. I
don’t really think of it like that, though.”

“If I grew up with someone else
making my coffee, I wouldn’t know how to make it, either,” Mark said. “I take
it you had maids, gardeners, and at least one cook.”

“All of the above,” Rachel said.
“In a way it was bad because I never learned how to cook. Danielle can’t cook,
either, so unless she’s making boxed macaroni and cheese, our meals consist of
‘Welcome to Greasy Burger, can I take your order?’ It’s a far cry from having a
personal chef.”

“Well, you are in the company of
a pretty good cook. Maybe I can remind you how wonderful real food can be.”

Her smile grew, and her eyes
sparkled. “Maybe.”

Rachel couldn’t
erase the smile from her face and butterflies danced in her stomach without
thought of ever stopping. Talking to Mark seemed so natural, and she found
herself unable to keep her eyes off him. She didn’t know which attribute drew
her in the most: the wisps of dark hair falling around his brow, the intensity
of his bluish-grey eyes, or his sensual, wide mouth. It all came together and
brought her insides to life.

Though men had approached her
before, most deemed her off limits after speaking to her for a few minutes. If
they didn’t, she excelled at alienating them. She also ignored Danielle’s
attempts to persuade her to date. She avoided luxuries like dreaming, dating,
and love.

But Mark was so far removed from
any man she had ever known. Around him she didn’t feel so trapped or caged, and
her reservations disappeared. She looked forward to going to his store, to
talking with him, to seeing his face. She devoured the words in every book she
bought to have an excuse to go back to his store and interact with him. With
Mark, laughter came easy and smiling came easier. She missed those rarities in
her life.

His intrusion into her life
unnerved her. She had devoted too much time and energy to constructing the
fortress around her world. The well-fortified walls had no visible entrance,
yet Mark somehow broke through her defenses. She had not intended for this to
happen.

Rachel glanced at her watch,
prompting Mark to do the same. Two hours had flown by without consulting her.
Their chairs had moved closer to each other during their conversation, and
Rachel battled the urge to push her chair away from him.

“I didn’t realize it was so
late,” he said. “As much as I don’t want to, I should get going. I have to open
the store tomorrow morning.”

“I have to get up early, too.”

He didn’t move.

Her heart picked up speed and
her breathing shallowed. She tried to look away, but his eyes held hers
captive. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his lips with her
fingers. She closed her eyes as he took her hand and kissed her fingertips.

A slight tremor rattled her
body, and she withdrew her arm. The spell broken, she picked at a small chip in
the handle of her mug, aware of Mark’s scrutinizing gaze. She stammered, and
tried to find some nonsensical excuse for her actions.

She turned toward the sound of
the deadbolts unlocking on the front door. “Danielle’s home,” she said, trying
not to sound relieved at the interruption. “I’d better go let her in.”

Danielle banged on the door and
yelled Rachel’s name. A touch of panic latched onto Rachel, and she froze for a
moment.

“Is she okay?” Mark asked.

Rachel realized the cause of
Danielle’s behavior, and her eyes widened. “Your truck is out front,” she said.
She rushed through the living room and tore the chains off the front door.

Danielle Palmer stood on the
porch, wearing black pants and a black spaghetti strap top under a light black
jacket. Large, golden curls bordered the frightened look on her face, and she
held a can of mace in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Rachel
whispered. “Put that away!”

Danielle returned the mace to
her purse and stepped through the door. “I thought they...wait a second. Whose
truck is parked outside?” she asked. Her mouth dropped when Mark entered the
foyer. “Oh, wow.” She straightened her posture and extended her hand. “I’m
Danielle Palmer.”

He shook her hand. “Mark
Jacobson. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

“Danielle, Mark and his brother
own the bookstore on the corner,” Rachel said. “You know, the one I get my
books from.”

“Oh,” Danielle said, drawing out
the word as if making a connection. To Mark, she said, “I apologize for all the
commotion. I didn’t know Rachel had company tonight. I’ve been on edge since
our last home was broken into. That’s why we have so many locks on our door.”

A puzzled expression crossed
Mark’s face. “I thought the lady you rent the house from put on the locks.”

“She did,” Rachel said, “but
Danielle wanted to keep them because of the break-in.”

Danielle put her hand on
Rachel’s arm. “You know, Rach, I think I’ll head back out. I’m a bit hungry and
I’m sure there’s a drive thru open somewhere.”

“You don’t have to go on my
account,” Mark said. “I was getting ready to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Danielle said, her
energetic voice deflated. “I didn’t mean to make you leave.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry,” Mark said.

“Oh good. Then I guess I’ll see
you around soon,” she said. She raised her eyebrows and directed her last words
at Rachel. “At least I hope I do.”

After Danielle walked into the
living room, Rachel smiled at Mark, as if the simple gesture could explain her
best friend to him. She turned and led him outside into the night air, which
had chilled even more while they stayed warm inside. She wrapped her arms
around herself and stepped down from the porch.

“I’m sorry about Danielle,” she
said when they reached his truck. “She gets paranoid at the littlest things.
She must have gotten scared because she didn’t recognize your truck and didn’t
know you were coming over tonight.”

“I’d be a little paranoid myself
if my house had a recent break-in.”

Rachel bit down on her bottom
lip and wrung her hands in front of her waist. “You know, earlier, I didn’t...”
She took a deep breath and tried again. “Well, I didn’t mean, you know—”

“You are so damn cute when
you’re nervous,” Mark said.

She pursed her lips and dropped
her hands to her sides. “I’m not nervous. I...I don’t know what happened
earlier, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yes, you did.”

Embarrassed, Rachel laughed and
looked away from him. He laid his hand on her face, and she lifted her eyes. His
thumb traced her lips. She didn’t want this, didn’t need this, but she couldn’t
help herself. Mark lowered his head, and she smiled when his lips touched hers.