Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

that was fine.”
    It seemed that the rain had let up a bit, but they were still in the wind shadow of Ben’s. As soon as they made the turn away from the building toward Jack’s, they saw that the let up was illusory. Again, the wipers had a hard time keeping the windshield clear.
    Jack backed up the drive and stopped so the trunk was just steps from the door. Great plan―so-so results. They worked quickly to bring their things in, but while they did not get completely soaked, they were more than damp by the time they had everything inside. As they schlepped their stuff up the stairs, they both began to shiver.
    The apartment was cool and dark, and the sounds of the wind-driven rain slapping at the windows and skylights made it seem colder than it really was. Moving quickly, Max turned on the lights and Jack turned up the thermostat. The lights made the place feel warmer, and when the furnace clicked on, the change was dramatic. What had felt cold and ominous moments before now became cozy and welcoming.
    “Come here,” Jack said to Max as he moved toward her.
    She stepped into his open arms. For a brief moment, there was an instant chill as the cold, wet fabric pressed between their two warm bodies. But it took only a moment for their body heat to overcome that chill.
    “I need to get out of these wet clothes,” said Max.
    “Need some help?”
    “No, I can manage, but thanks for the offer.” She pulled away and headed for the bedroom.
    “Something to drink?” he called after her.
    “Sure, something warm.”
    “Hot, or cold and warming?”
    “You decide.”
    Jack didn’t feel like tea or coffee so cold and warming was it. He opened his liquor cabinet and looked over the bottles. “Oh yeah, perfect,” he said to himself as he withdrew a bottle of sipping bourbon. One of his running buddies had given it to him as a present when she moved to Kentucky. He poured two glasses and took a sip. He closed his eyes and savored the warm sensation as it slid down his throat and through his chest.
    “This mine?” Max whispered as she reached around him for her glass while running her other hand across his back. He hadn’t heard her come back into the room. Turning toward her voice, he found that she had returned wearing an oversized sweatshirt, but her legs were still bare. She took a sip and swallowed slowly. “Mmmm. Perfect,” she said.
    Jack’s heart rate took a jump. Then he said, “I need to get out of these wet things. Be right back.”
    Jack quickly changed into flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt that he had won at some long-forgotten race. When he returned to the living room, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness. Max had turned the lights back off, and only the low, flickering glow of several candles lit the room. Max was curled up on one end of the couch, her legs under a fleece blanket, and she looked delicious. He stopped and looked at her. He could barely hear the storm above the sound of his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears. She looked up and smiled. With great effort he steadied his breathing, picked up his drink, and said, “Room for me?”
    Her answer needed no words. He sat at the other end of the couch and faced her, tucking his legs under the same blanket. He watched her over his raised knees. The storm raged, the candles flickered, and they sipped their drinks in silence, each totally focused on the other. Max moved first. Her foot slid under the cuff of his pants and up his leg, causing a warm pressure elsewhere. “Thank you for a wonderful time,” she purred.
    He straightened his left leg and ran his foot up along her leg, feeling her silky skin. For as long as his leg would stretch, all he felt was ever-warmer skin. Even in the flickering candlelight he was sure that he saw her eyes soften and her neck begin to flush. “You’re welcome,” he managed to breathe. He swallowed the last of his drink and kept his eyes on Max as he slowly reached back with his right arm, intending to put his glass on the table next to the couch before moving in for more intimate contact.
    As he did so, his elbow hit the lamp, which teetered. He had to twist fully to try to grab it with his left arm. This rapid twisting caused his left leg, which had been extended alongside her body, to push her toward the edge of the couch. In an attempt to maintain balance, his right leg swung onto the floor, taking the blanket with it. This pulled Max even closer to the