Local Hero

a hint of what true, ripe passion could be. And then it had been over. She had come to believe that, like so many other things, such passions were only temporary. But this—this felt like forever.
    He’d thought he knew all there was to know about women. Hester was proving him wrong. Even as he felt himself sliding down that warm, soft tunnel of desire, he warned himself not to move too quickly or take too much. There was a hurricane in her, one he had already realized had been channeled and repressed for a long, long time. The first time he’d held her he’d known he had to be the one to free it. But slowly. Carefully. Whether she knew it or not, she was as vulnerable as the child sleeping beside them.
    Then her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer. For one mad moment, he dragged her hard against him and let them both taste of what might be.
    “Bombs, Hester.” She shuddered as he traced his tongue over her ear. “The city’s in shambles.”
    She believed him. With his mouth hot on hers, she believed him. “I have to think.”
    “Yeah, maybe you do.” But he kissed her again. “Maybe we both do.” He ran his hands down her body in one long, possessive stroke. “But I have a feeling we’re going to come up with the same answer.”
    Shaken, she backed away. And stumbled over the robot. The crash didn’t penetrate Radley’s dreams.
    “You know, you run into things every time I kiss you.” He was going to have to go now or not at all. “I’ll pick up the VCR later.”
    There was a little breath of relief as she nodded. She’d been afraid he’d ask her to sleep with him, and she wasn’t at all sure what her answer would have been. “Thank you for everything.”
    “Good, you’re learning.” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Take care of the eye.”
    Cowardly or not, Hester stayed by Radley’s bed until she heard the front door shut. Then, easing down, she put a hand on her sleeping son’s shoulder. “Oh, Rad, what have I gotten into?”

Chapter 5
    When the phone rang at 7:25, Mitch had his head buried under a pillow. He would have ignored it, but Taz rolled over, stuck his snout against Mitch’s cheek and began to grumble in his ear. Mitch swore and shoved at the dog, then snatched up the receiver and dragged it under the pillow.
    “What?”
    On the other end of the line, Hester bit her lip. “Mitch, it’s Hester.”
    “So?”
    “I guess I woke you up.”
    “Right.”
    It was painfully obvious that Mitch Dempsey wasn’t a morning person. “I’m sorry. I know it’s early.”
    “Is that what you called to tell me?”
    “No . . . I guess you haven’t looked out the window yet.”
    “Honey, I haven’t even looked past my eyelids yet.”
    “It’s snowing. We’ve got about eight inches, and it’s not expected to let up until around midday. They’re calling for twelve to fifteen inches.”
    “Who are they?”
    Hester switched the phone to her other hand. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she’d only had a chance to gulp down one cup of coffee. “The National Weather Service.”
    “Well, thanks for the bulletin.”
    “Mitch! Don’t hang up.”
    He let out a long sigh, then shifted away from Taz’s wet nose. “Is there more news?”
    “The schools are closed.”
    “Whoopee.”
    She was tempted, very tempted to hang up the phone in his ear. The trouble was, she needed him. “I hate to ask, but I’m not sure I can get Radley all the way over to Mrs. Cohen’s. I’d take the day off, but I have back-to-back appointments most of the day. I’m going to try to shift things around and get off early, but—”
    “Send him down.”
    There was the briefest of hesitations. “Are you sure?”
    “Did you want me to say no?”
    “I don’t want to interfere with any plans you had.”
    “Got any hot coffee?”
    “Well, yes, I—”
    “Send that, too.”
    Hester stared at the phone after it clicked in her ear, and tried to remind herself to be grateful.
    Radley couldn’t have been more pleased. He took Taz for his morning walk, threw snowballs—which the dog, on principle, refused to chase—and rolled in the thick blanket of snow until he was satisfactorily covered.
    Since Mitch’s supplies didn’t run to hot chocolate, Radley raided his mother’s supply, then spent the rest of the morning happily involved with Mitch’s comic books and his own sketches.
    As for Mitch, he found the company appealing rather than distracting. The boy lay sprawled