Night Tides (16 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
HE MAN CLOSED
the basement door and got a beer from the refrigerator. It was so hot down there that he always felt like he needed a shower after each visit. His sweat-soaked underwear made him itch. Yet his beauties repaid him for their water by the way their skin glimmered and trembled in the light, and that was worth any discomfort. He discovered it was ridiculously easy to forget the Asian one who’d died.

He sat at the kitchen table, lit a joint, and looked at his watch. It was only dinnertime, nowhere close to night. He longed for darkness, for the time to get behind the wheel of his truck again and go cruising for Rachel Matre. He’d learned her habits well enough now to know she would be out late, jogging along the lake, just as she’d done the night before. Finding her was just a matter of patience and luck, the former of which he could control. He trusted fate for the latter. After all, with the exception of the Chinese girl dying on him, everything had gone perfectly. And even that hadn’t really been his fault.

He took a long drag off the joint. His fingers tingled as the chemical lethargy settled in. It would be time soon enough; for now, he could luxuriate in the anticipation.

“T
HAT WAS NICE
,”
Rachel said as Ethan opened his truck’s passenger door for her.

“You sound surprised,” he said as he took her arm and helped her down. She saw him admire the way the summer dress crept up her thighs; she appreciated the arm muscles visible past the cuff of his short sleeves.

“Well, with all the misfires between us, I wasn’t getting my hopes up,” she said. She smoothed down her dress, a bright green floral pattern that she knew brought out her eyes. It stopped just above the knee, not far enough to be scandalous but certainly well within the come-ahead-Fred range. In a pinch, though, it could also mark the no-way-José line. She was still uncertain how to designate it for the evening, although the moment of truth was approaching fast.

Ethan clicked the key chain, and the little chirp told him the truck was locked. She smiled at this little act of faith. What would he do if she left him stranded on the doorstep after a quick peck on the cheek?

When she turned to face him, she tottered a little, as if the dress shoes were unfamiliar, and saw him suppress a chuckle. What he didn’t know was that the stumble was completely unrelated to the shoes. Instead, she was struck anew by his masculine silhouette, by the way his chest and arms strained against the polo shirt’s fabric while his waist didn’t even touch the material where it dangled over his belt. There was nothing threatening about this either, like with some muscular men. It simply made her knees wobble and filled her with the desire to run her hands over his chest.

How will I get through this
, she wondered,
with my dignity intact?

D
INNER AT
M
ADISON’S
unique Ella’s Deli had been a delight, not least because Rachel didn’t have to cook any of it. Afterward, Ethan took her for a ride on the old-fashioned carousel outside. Finally they stopped at the Harmony Bar for drinks and left when the live music started.

They’d both learned their lesson at lunch. All evening the conversation had steered mercifully clear of politics, religion, or anything remotely controversial. Instead, they discussed favorite songs, movies that made them laugh, and books that meant a lot to them. She was pleasantly surprised that he was so well read and delighted that he loved John Mellencamp’s “Cherry Bomb.” And, most surprising for a male, he hated anything involving Adam Sandler. She told him about running and listened politely while he described his weight-training routine.

The physical tension between them could’ve lit a cigarette, but she didn’t mention it. She forced it down, afraid of disconcerting him with the intensity of her erotic response. But she sensed that it was reciprocal, and by the time they arrived back at her diner’s door, she was sure they both wanted to simply rip off their clothes, throw themselves onto a bed, and get at it.

Rachel put her key into the lock and stopped in mid-turn. This was the moment when she would decide what the hem of her dress represented. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. “I really enjoyed tonight, Ethan. Really.”

“Me too.”

She fingered one of her shoulder straps and looked up at the indigo sky. The Wisconsin summer sun stayed obstinately around until 9:00 P.M. Watching the last pink clouds to the west, avoiding his eyes, she said, “I know it’s still early, but part of me wants it to end right now, so that it’ll stay a good memory.”

She could hear his disappointment, but he said, “I can understand that.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, faking an assurance she didn’t remotely feel. “Other parts of me are recommending somewhat… bolder action.”

He put one hand on the doorjamb and leaned in close. Since she was on the first step, their faces were at the same level. He said, “Will you think less of me if I admit that the same thought has been on my mind most of the evening?”

“Only most?”

“Well, that steak was
really
good.”

She laughed. She felt his breath on her lips, smelled the slight mix of beer, beef, and the Altoid he’d chewed on the way here. Then their eyes locked, and the moment seemed to go into that thicker realm of time where instantaneous events pass slowly enough to really absorb them.

When she spoke at last, her voice was ragged, soft, yet certain. “I want you to come inside.”

“I want to,” he said, and rested his hand lightly on her waist.

It felt huge to her, and powerful, a hand that could hold her down and make her do anything. No, she corrected, make her
want
to do anything. She took a deep final breath before her courage failed. “I have to warn you, though, there are things about me that are a little… no, they’re
very
weird.”

“Are you secretly a man?”

She giggled. “No, not
that
weird.”

“Then I can probably work around it. I have some dark things too.”

She felt dizzy with desire and wanted nothing more than to fall against him and feel those strong arms lift her up. But she held on to her dignity. “Can we talk first?”

“We can talk
only
. If that’s what you want.”

She could tell by his eyes that he meant it. It was more than she’d hoped, and now she was even more apprehensive. But she turned and opened the door before she could change her mind. His hand slid to her hip as she moved, and she felt the brief touch all the way to her toes.

Neither noticed the lone figure slumped in a Ford pickup parked down the street, invisible in the dark evening shade of an old birch tree.

T
HEY KISSED
in the stairwell before she even turned on the lights. He spun her easily to face him, but his initiative was swept away by the hungry embrace she threw around his neck. Off balance, he fell back against the door and slammed it shut. She kept him pressed there in the dark, standing on her toes to reach his mouth with her own. She felt his response through his jeans, and his hands were on her ribs, thumbs stroking the sides of her breasts.

She broke the kiss long enough to gasp, “We’re not talking.”

“No.”

“I lied back there, when I said I wanted to talk, you know.”

“And I’m lying right now, when I say I don’t want to see you naked.”

She giggled. “It’d be way too much like Cinemax to do it for the first time on the stairs up to my place, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, we
are
adults, and this
is
your building,” he said, moving his hands to fully encircle her breasts. She sighed at the pressure of his strong fingers kneading her through her dress. “Technically, we’re already
in
your place.”

She kissed him again, her tongue hungrily raking his. “It’ll be more comfortable upstairs,” she said against his lips.

“Smells like you just painted down here too.”

She nodded. “And I need to pee.”

He chuckled. He moved his fingertips back to her hips, running them along the band of her thong panties beneath the dress. “Then apparently we’re meant go upstairs.”

They kissed intensely as they worked their way up the steps. At the top landing, she kicked off her shoes and ground herself wantonly against him, delighted by his response and her own eagerness. She felt the beer just enough; she was far from drunk but relaxed enough to quiet the second-guessing commentary in her head. Whatever happened, she’d chosen this of her own free will, and, by God, she’d follow through and enjoy it, even though she knew there would be no climactic moment for her.

She opened her apartment door, turned on the light, and felt the expected rush of mild embarrassment at her decor. But thoughts of shame of
any
sort vanished the moment he spun her around and kissed her again. This time he backed her up to the wall, and there was a fleeting moment where she remembered the
other
time a man had done that, when it had not meant desire or tenderness or lust but an attempt at possession. But, again, the intensity of the moment pushed those memories of Don back down out of sight. She lifted one leg and rubbed her bare thigh against him, his rough denim delicious against her soft skin.

“Excuse me for just a moment, okay?” she gasped.

“Okay,” he said, and stepped back. He made no effort to hide the erection distending the front of his jeans. She closed the bathroom door and stood still for a long moment, simply catching her breath.

E
THAN FOUGHT
the panic coursing through him. He’d stood upright while bullets struck the sand all around him, walked knowingly across a mined bridge, and never faltered. But those acts had not depended on his damn
dick
staying upright. At the moment he could barely remember how it felt when it wasn’t tumescent, but he knew from experience that its attention could flag at a moment’s notice.

He noticed the cat curled up on an arm of the couch, one paw dangling. He smiled, grateful for the distraction. “Well, hi there,” he said softly. “You must be Tainter. Rachel told me about you. Yes, she did.”

The cat’s eyes did not open. He slid slowly off the arm and landed on all fours, then slunk under the couch.

Ethan took a long breath and slowly let it out. Maybe he should leave now, before he disappointed her and humiliated himself.

I
N THE BATHROOM
,
Rachel flushed the toilet, then pulled the dress over her head and hung it on the bathrobe hook. She wore only dark blue panties beneath it. She turned on the water and looked in the mirror, trying to see herself the way Ethan would. She was slender, firm-breasted, her hair a bit disheveled. She had tan lines, and the tattoo below her navel drew attention to that area. But she had to admit, for a woman her age she held up pretty well. He might not be winning the lottery, but she was no cheap parting gift either.

She reached for her robe, then stopped. That was pointless; she was already naked in a way that had nothing to do with clothes. No need to be a hypocrite.

She turned off the light and opened the door. He stood in front of her couch, contemplating the Frida Kahlo poster above it, until he realized she’d returned. The look on his face was everything she’d hoped for.

He finally said, “I’m… speechless.”

She smiled. “Good. We decided not to talk, anyway.”

She guided him into the bedroom and closed the door to keep Tainter from interrupting. The only light came from the streetlamp outside the window. She pushed him down on his back and peeled him like fresh produce in the diner, starting with his socks and working up. When she slid his jeans down his legs, his erection announced itself through his Jockey briefs. With a moan of desire that made him shiver, she pulled off his underwear and knelt over him, her fingertips lifting him to her mouth.

He closed his eyes and arched his back. “Oh, God, Rachel—”

“Shh!” she ordered. “Just… enjoy.”

She wanted him to know what it felt like to be engulfed in something, to experience what she did when the lake spirits claimed her. She wanted to
take
him, to possess him, and she knew that at this moment his whole being was concentrated in what she now kissed, licked, and sucked.