Blush crept into her cheeks and she stood. “I’m gonna change.” She tilted her head and tapped her lips with her finger, her eyes drifting over him. “I think I may have a pair of shorts that will fit you if you want to get out of your wet clothes,” she offered with a sheepish grin.

“You have something that would fit me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I might,” she replied.

“Okay,” he said, curious to see what she brought for him.

She returned in a dry clothes and hesitantly extended a pair of faded cut-offs to him.

Steve stood, reading the melancholy expression in her eyes and the slight tension in her arm as if second-guessing the offer. “These were Tom’s, weren’t they?” When she nodded, he took them from her outstretched hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said. Her eyes met his. “I’m sure. The bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

He walked away, turning once to look at her before he disappeared around the corner.

Steve inspected the soft well-worn fabric and then his reflection in the mirror. I can’t believe she did this. His thoughts drifted to Peggy and the full closet at the cottage. If the situation were reversed, could I do the same? He didn’t have an answer, at least one he’d admit to, and he shrugged the questions out of his head. Stripping out of his wet suit, he slid the shorts on and raised an eyebrow. Oddly enough, they fit perfectly.

He picked up his wet swim trunks and walked into the living room. “What should I do with this?”

Jennifer had her damp clothes in her hands already. “I’ll take that.” She stared at him. “They fit.” She met his clear blue eyes and took his wet shorts, turning and heading toward the kitchen.

“Why are you going in the kitchen with wet clothes?”

“I’m gonna put these in the oven.” She smiled sweetly holding the wet clothes up and hesitating in the doorway.

His mouth dropped for a split second.

“Seriously, our laundry room is off the kitchen.” She disappeared and he heard the dryer turn on.

She got you dude! Her sense of humor was still a little warped, even after all these years. He chuckled dryly. When she stepped through the kitchen door, he said, “I thought…well, never mind. You got me.”

She laughed.

The musical tenor of her laughter set him into action and he crossed the distance, sweeping her into his arms. Her eyes widened and her laugh teetering into a gasp. The line of her body arched into his touch. As one hand tangled in her long damp hair, the other planted in the curve of her back, just itching to go lower, but he held in place. Staring into her jade eyes, he forced a ragged breath and slowly leaned toward her luscious parted lips, wanting to taste the sweetness of her mouth.

This cannot happen!

Steve pulled away, startled by the sudden admonishment. Her eyes were still closed, still expecting the kiss. When he loosened his grip and stepped back, they shot open. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, questioning him silently.

His heart thumped in his chest as if he’d been hit with a tazer, and his breath matched the electrifying experience, coming in short quick bursts. He concentrated on taking long slow breaths, attempting to regain control.

“I have to go.” He took another step away from her, two years of not feeling anything in contrast to the overwhelming tornado of emotions was too much for him to cope with. He turned and headed for the door.

Jennifer caught his arm. “Steve.”

He didn’t look at her. “You aren’t ready for this either, Jen,” he said as he opened the door.

“How do you know?” she whispered.

He met her gaze. “Because I saw the way you looked at me when I came out in these shorts.” He removed her hand from his arm. “I’m not ready.” He let his eyes graze over her. “It was good to see you again.”

“But?”

He gave her a little smile. “I’m not ready for you.” His voice was soft and gentle and he turned, walking to the elevator, refusing to look back because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave. When the elevator doors closed, he rested his forehead against them, welcoming the cool metal.

He closed his eyes and for the first time in two years, the face he saw etched onto his eyelids was not Peggy’s.

Chapter 4

Jennifer stood staring at the elevator for almost a full minute thinking he would change his mind and come back. When he didn’t, she closed the door and inhaled, trying to ease the sting of his rejection.

She crossed to the balcony in time to see his car disappear from sight and she glanced at the small mess on the table. Sinking into the lounge chair, she began to clean up, analyzing every move in an attempt to understand why he pulled away.

Didn’t he feel the current? The electricity? The same intensity? Or was it just her? She looked back at the parking lot and shook her head. The way he looked at her, the way he held her, god help her, it felt like coming home.

“No, it isn’t just me,” she said, but there was no strength behind the words, no conviction.

With a sigh, she gathered the containers and dumped them in the garbage, taking the bag to the dumpster and destroying any evidence he had been at the apartment. When the dryer buzzed, she retrieved the clothes and folded them neatly, tucking them away on the top shelf of her closet.

Something in the back of the closet rustled and Jennifer jumped, spinning in the direction of the disturbance. Cold air engulfed her and the hair on the back of her neck bristled. Fear wrapped around her heart in a tight fist, constricting the sudden pounding in her chest and pulling the air from her lungs. Wheezing, she drew a thin breath and shivered. She shot out of the closet and slammed the door but it did nothing to eradicate the feeling she wasn’t alone.

She backed away slowly, wishing Steve had stayed a little longer. With her eyes glued to the closet door, she changed into her nightshirt and grabbed her bathrobe. She retreated to the living room, slipping the floor length chenille around her as tight as it would go.

Channel surfing and restless, Jennifer bit the edge of her lip. Her eyes shot down the hall toward her bedroom, every few seconds before returning to the television, and she sank lower and lower into the couch as the night wore on. After a couple hours of bouncing her attention between the hallway and the repetitive drivel on the television, her eyes drooped, closing slowly. She drifted off despite her unease.

* * * *

Hands shook her.

“Jen, wake up,” Tracy demanded.

Her eyes fluttered opened trying to place where she was. She looked up at her friend and it all came back to her. “What time is it?”

“Around two,” Tracy answered. “How did it go?”

“How’d what go?” she mumbled and sat up, still half asleep.

“Steve. Did he come up?”

She shook her head awake enough to slip into the role. “He’s an asshole.” Jennifer got up and headed to her room. “Night.” She closed her bedroom door on Tracy’s questioning eyes, crawling into bed and instantly falling asleep.

* * * *

During the night, the closet door popped open and a pair of red shimmering eyes peered out. Jennifer shivered in her sleep and pulled the blankets tight.

 

Chapter 5

Jennifer woke at eight and wandered into the shower. She let the pulsating jets wash away the edges of sleep, lingering, enjoying the massage on her back and legs. After what seemed like an eternity, she reluctantly shut the water off and wrapped herself in a towel. Her brow furrowed as fragments of a dream drifted into her consciousness—blood, pain, and fear.

She shivered at the image and shoved it down into her subconscious where it belonged, flipping on the hairdryer to take the chill out of her wet locks.