DEFENGING THE EYEWITNESS (12 page)

She cleaned the store with a vengeance. By the time four o’clock rolled around and it was time to close, she was sure the place had never sparkled quite the way it did then. Working with fabrics tended to create perennial dust and little bits of thread and lint, but they were all gone now. She figured it would last about two or three days.

She didn’t think again of the mysterious notes until she was walking the three blocks to her house.

Like mother, like daughter.

What in the world did that mean? All she knew was that it felt seriously creepy. Even though it was still daylight and people were about, she quickened her step. She wanted to get back to the safety of her house, and hoped Austin would be waiting there.

A little shiver of nervousness hit her as she realized she hoped a man would be waiting for her. She hoped this was a sign she was growing out of at least some of her shell.

This morning she had kept their conversation to the purely impersonal, avoiding any possibility that he might penetrate her defenses the way he had last night. He was no fool, and probably realized exactly what she was doing.

That note hovered at the edge of her mind, then burst to the foreground, making her seriously uneasy. It felt like a threat, and made stepping out of her hiding place even scarier. But how would hiding within herself make it any better?

Austin’s car was parked out front when she arrived home, but as soon as she entered she realized he wasn’t there. Disappointed and despising herself for it, she went to shower and change. Cleaning the shop had created a need for her to clean herself. The thought amused her somehow, and lifted her mood.

After she dressed, she picked up her clothes hamper and headed for the laundry room beside the back porch. After she started her first load, she went to make a pot of coffee and started when she saw Austin there already making it.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Not at all. I was just about to make it.”

“Good. How was your afternoon?”

“Quiet. No customers at all, so I cleaned the place.”

He nodded and turned around, leaning back against the counter as the coffee brewed. “Dinner tonight.”

She waited, looking at him uncertainly. “Yes?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve tried it before, but your grocer makes his own Polish sausage.” One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I think we’ve gotten to the point of dueling ethnic foods.”

In an instant everything else vanished and a laugh escaped her. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. He gave me some of his smoked stuff to sample and told me how to cook it. Have you eaten it before?”

“I didn’t even know he made it.”

“Well, something to do with health codes and all that. He can’t sell it in the meat case, so only those of us who are blessed to be considered trustworthy are offered any. The only Polish sausage I ever had was made by a big company. He assures me this is the real thing, that it’s much better, and we’ll love it. Given the hour, I guess we’ll eat it like hot dogs. I got bakery buns.”

“Sounds good.” She was still smiling, and liked the way his eyes seemed to hold warmth for her.

“Great. Next week he’s going to teach me how to make cabbage rolls. And I promised to teach him how to make chiles rellenos. Cooking class begins.”

Turning, he filled two mugs and brought them to the table.

She realized she liked the way he had fit into this town. “Food must be an international language.”

“It’s certainly at the core of most socializing.” He sat facing her, still smiling. “Nothing like exchanging recipes.”

Another giggle escaped her. “Do you know how funny that sounds coming from a man?”

His smile widened. “Pardon me, but we’re
chefs.
”

“Excuse me.” She was still smiling, and unreasonably happy. This development both amused her and warmed her.

They ate the sausage on buns, the mood cheerful. She enjoyed the break from all the heavy thoughts she’d been having. Austin was good at diverting conversation, and he made her laugh easily.

But the laughter had another effect. It made her increasingly aware of him, of the attraction she felt for him. Last night’s kiss had seared itself into her memory, along with the totally novel sensation of sitting on a man’s lap. She had felt his desire for her, a secret and guilty pleasure. She wasn’t sure he had wanted her to notice that.

How would she know, with her limited experience? Men were a mystery to her, she realized, and she had only herself to blame for that.

But mystery or not, there was nothing mysterious about the feelings he was evoking in her. She tried to look at her plate, but her gaze kept drifting back to him, drinking him in. She wondered vaguely if she was using him as an excuse not to think about all the hard and scary stuff of the past day but didn’t believe that was true.

From the instant she set eyes on him, she had noticed how darkly handsome he was. Exotic. She had felt a pull toward him, unlike anything she had ever felt before. From that first instant, he had been turning her common sense and protective shields into shredded paper.

How did he do that?

He had finished eating and glanced up to catch her staring at him. A faint smile framed his mouth.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I may grab you again. I’m sure you don’t like being manhandled.”

She didn’t. Except for last night, when she hadn’t minded it at all. Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she dropped her gaze. “Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,
chica.
I like that expression in your eyes. I like the way it makes me feel. It makes me imagine all the ways I’d like to make love to you.”

She drew a sharp breath and dared to look at him. Inside her, everything went crazy, then started to melt into a hot ache. A throbbing she
did
know began between her thighs, so strong that she felt she couldn’t stand it if someone or something didn’t touch her there. She shifted on her chair, trying to ease it, but even the pressure of her jeans wasn’t enough.

Sensations and needs she’d been forcing herself to ignore for years refused to be ignored. Instead of fearing them, she wished she knew what to do about them.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said quietly. The smile had vanished. “But if you want to explore this,
you
have to take the next step. I won’t grab you again.”

Her breath stuck in her throat. Her heart speeded up from a steady, heavy beat to pounding as if she were running a marathon. Fear and desire warred in her as never before.

She
had to take the next step? She didn’t know how. What was the next step? Imagine being her age and knowing less that the average high schooler. All her fault. She’d been denying this side of herself for a long, long time. Because she feared it. Because it would bring her close to a man.

She had done an amazing job of shutting down her desires, making them almost nonexistent. Then this guy shows up and it was game over?

She wished she could get mad at him for eliciting these feelings and making her so confused. But it wasn’t his fault she’d been hiding inside herself for so long. The only question now was whether she had any real courage left.

The kind of courage that would help her take the next step. She felt an urge to just run from this, but she’d been running for a long time, and apparently her safety had been illusory. Was she going to run again, this time from something she truly wanted?

He sat there completely still. She studied his olive-skinned face, his dark eyes, his high cheekbones and strong jaw. He had made her see herself through his eyes, made her recognize what she was doing to herself, yet he was still here.

“If you had a brain,” she whispered, “you’d be heading for the hills right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m so messed up.”

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you’re messed up. I think you took the best path you knew to deal with some terrible things. The question now is, do you want to change that path? It won’t be easy.”

No, it wouldn’t. But it was beginning to seem necessary. Living a half life wouldn’t satisfy her forever. Or if it did, she was going to reach the finish line wondering if she’d even run the race.

“I’ve never...” She couldn’t force the words out.

“I know.” His face gentled, but he offered her no escape.

She had to make the next move, or none at all. What did she really want? That was the question.

Then the answer pushed past all her questions and concerns, and it was utterly clear: she wanted him. And she wanted the experience. But mostly she wanted him.

On legs that felt at once weak and strong, she stood and walked around the table. When she reached his side, she looked down at him and he looked up. Waiting.

She could still run.

But then she reached out and laid her hand on his shoulder. It felt so strong beneath her fingers, and through his shirt she could feel his warmth.

“Austin?

“Yes?”

She felt so awkward. She felt frightened, almost like the day she had gone with her friends to a swimming hole and they were jumping off a tree limb that hung out over the water. She could still remember sitting there, telling herself to jump, while her body remained frozen. Beneath her, kids who had already jumped into the water splashed and played. But then it was her turn, and she froze, unable to move. Then something inside her had said, “Just do it.” She had jumped.

Just do it.

She trailed her shaking hand down his powerful arm until she found his hand where it rested on the table. He turned it over at once and welcomed her grasp. She felt as if there was almost no air in the room.

And still he waited. For what? Finally, daringly, she gave his hand a little tug.

He stood then, wrapping her gently in his strength. “You can always say no,
querida.
At any time, at any point.”

Then he kissed her, gently at first, seeking her response. Heat flared in her instantly, as if it had smoldered for so long it only needed a breath of air to ignite a wildfire.

As his tongue painted the sensitive tissues inside her mouth, shivers of longing ran through her. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hung on for dear life. Already he was taking her places she hadn’t even visited with last night’s kiss.

Nerve endings awoke to fresh life. Every part of her became acutely aware of him pressed against her. She felt the soft fabric of his shirt beneath her hands. The hardness of his entire length against her, an utterly new and confounding sensation.

It felt so good, so very good, just to be held close and kissed. Earlier that morning, she had come up against his hard body as they practiced self-defense, but it hadn’t been the same. Her attention had been focused on her moves, not so much on him.

Now she forgot everything except him, and as he stoked the fires in her, first with his kisses to her mouth, then with kisses that trailed over her cheek, a gentle nip to her earlobe followed by more kisses along the column of her neck, she grew bolder. She ran her hands over his shoulders, then down his back, feeling his muscles move beneath her touches. Each new sensation poured waves of heat through her body, making her self-aware in a new way.

Her breasts ached for touches she had never really imagined. Her body cried out to be borne down beneath his weight. The flesh between her legs seemed to develop a life of its own, pulsing so hard it almost hurt.

She sagged into him, needing to be impossibly close. He smelled so good, of fresh air, of man, of soap and even the dinner they had just shared. As he trailed his mouth along her neck, causing her to shiver, she reciprocated and felt him shudder in response as she found the prickly skin he probably hadn’t shaved since much earlier. She liked the difference.

Then he startled her, making a quiet exclamation she couldn’t understand. Spanish? It almost tripped her out of the moment, but not quite, because he astonished her by sweeping her off her feet and carrying her back toward her bedroom.

Swept off her feet, she thought hazily. She hadn’t really believed men did that. Apparently, Austin did. She clung to his shoulders, even as he lowered her to her bed.

“Easy,
querida,
” he murmured. “We have all the time in the world.”

A little bubble of happiness rose in her, as she wondered who he was trying to remind of that: himself or her. All the time in the world? She didn’t know if she wanted to wait that long to discover what lay ahead. Impatience now goaded her, having driven out the last of her fears.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. Then he turned to her and got rid of her sneakers and socks. So little and yet so much. Only then did he stretch out beside her, propping his head on his hand and smiling down at her. For the first time she started to feel really nervous. Excited but nervous. Little bubbles of anxiety popped in her stomach, not quite drowned by the other awakening hungers.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, running his fingertips along her cheek and neck. Delight poured through her.

“Not your type,” she reminded him, amazed that she could speak at all when her entire body seemed full of demands she couldn’t even name.

“Oh, very much my type,” he said. “Very much. A few weeks ago would you have imagined yourself about to take a Latino lover?”

She felt a smile dawn on her face. “I never thought of taking even an Anglo lover.”

His face sobered. “I know. Just be sure, Corey. Please. This is a huge step.”

She dared to lift her hand to cup his cheek, enjoying the feel of his stubble. Enjoying a sense of freedom to reach out and touch him. All new and delightful sensations. “Be my first, Austin.” She didn’t dare ask for more than that.

He bent to kiss her again, this time so deeply that she felt as if he would enter her very soul. The kiss carried her away on a tide of longing so strong that when he broke it she was amazed to realize he had unbuttoned her shirt.

For an instant, beneath his gaze, she felt shy. He didn’t give her long to continue feeling that way. With a twist, he released the front catch on her bra and her breasts spilled free. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, but then she heard him catch his breath.