River’s End

stuffed it in the closet. Why had he sent it? Was it a peace offering or a threat? She didn’t want the first and refused to be intimidated by the second. But she hadn’t been able to throw it away.
    When the phone rang, she jumped foolishly, then rolled her eyes in annoyance. It had to be Noah, she thought. Who else would call so late? She caught herself before she could snatch eagerly at the receiver, deliberately let it ring three full times while she took careful breaths.
    When she picked it up, her voice was cool and brisk. “River’s End Naturalist Center.”
    She heard the music, just the faint drift of it, and imagined Noah setting a scene for a romantic phone call. She started to laugh, to open her mouth to make some pithy comment, then found herself unable to speak at all.
    She recognized it now, Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty.
    The soaring, liquid, heartbreaking notes of it that took her back to a warm summer night and the metallic scent of blood.
    Her hand tightened on the receiver while the panic-trip of her heart filled her head. “What do you want?” Her free hand pressed and rubbed between her breasts as if to shove back the rising pressure. “I know who you are. I know what you are.”
    The monster was free.
    “I’m not afraid of you.”
    It was a lie. Terror, hot, greasy flows of it swam into her belly and slicked over her skin. She wanted to crawl under her desk, roll up into a ball. Hide. Just hide.
    “Stay away from me.” Fear broke through, spiking her voice. “Just stay away!”
    She slammed the receiver down and, with panic bubbling madly in her throat, ran. The doorknob slipped out of her hand, making her whimper with frustration until she could cement her grip. The Center was dark, silent. She nearly cowered back, but the phone rang again. Her own screams shocked her, sent her skidding wildly across the floor. Her breath tore out of her lungs, sobbed through the silence. She had to get out. To run. To be safe.
    And as she reached for the door, the knob turned sharply. The door opened wide, and in its center was the shadow of a man.
    Her vision went gray and hazy. Dimly she heard someone call her name. Hands closed over her arms. She felt herself sway, then slide through them into the black.
    “Hey, hey, hey. Come on. Come back.”
    Her head reeled. She felt little pats on her face, the brush of lips over hers. It took her a moment to realize she was on the floor, being rocked like a baby in Noah’s lap.
    “Stop slapping me, you moron.” She lay still, weak from embarrassment and the dregs of panic.
    “Oh yeah, that’s better. Good.” He covered her mouth with his, poured an ocean of relief into the kiss. “That’s the first time I ever had a woman faint at my feet. Can’t say I like it one damn bit.”
    “I didn’t faint.”
    “You did a mighty fine imitation, then.” She’d only been out for seconds, he realized, though it had seemed to take a lifetime for her to melt in his grip. “I’m sorry I scared you, coming in that way. I saw your office light.”
    “Let me up.”
    “Let’s just sit here a minute. I don’t think my legs are ready to try standing yet.” He rested his cheek on hers. “So, how’ve you been otherwise?”
    She wanted to laugh, and to weep. “Oh, just fine thanks. You?”
    He shifted her so he could grin into her face. Then just the look of her, clear amber eyes, pale skin, had something moving inside him. “I really missed you.” His hand roamed through her hair now, stroking. “It’s so weird. Do you know how much time we’ve actually spent together?”
    “No.”
    “Not enough,” he murmured, and lowered his mouth to hers again. This time her lips were soft and welcomed him. Her arms lifted and enfolded him. He felt himself sink, then settle so that even the wonder of it seemed as natural as breathing. She had no defenses now. He drew her in, soft, slow, sure until there was nothing but that stirring mating of lips.
    “Liv.” He traced kisses along her jaw, up to her temple. “Let me close the door.”
    “Hmm?”
    Her sleepy answer had sparks of heat simmering inside the warmth. “The door.” His hand brushed over her breast, his fingers spreading as she arched toward him. “I don’t want to make love with you in an open doorway.”
    She made another humming sound, scraping her teeth over his bottom lip as she slapped at the door in an attempt to close it herself.
    Then the phone rang, and she was clawing to get