Shadowfires

but he sensed that she wanted to progress in small, easy steps. A leisurely romance provided plenty of time for her to explore and savor each new strand of affection in the steadily strengthening bond that bound them to each other, and when at last they succumbed to desire and surrendered to complete intimacy, sex would be all the sweeter for the delay.
    He was willing to give her as much time as she required. For one
thing, day by day he felt their need growing, and he derived a
special thrill from contemplating the tremendous power and intensity
of the lovemaking when they finally unleashed their desire. And
through her, he had come to realize that they would be cheating
themselves out of the more innocent pleasures of the moment if they
rushed headlong through the early stages of courtship to satisfy a
libidinal urge.
    Also, as a man with an affinity for better and more genteel ages,
Ben was old-fashioned about these matters and preferred not to jump
straight into bed for quick and easy gratification. Neither he nor
Rachael was a virgin, but he found it emotionally and spiritually
satisfying-and erotic as hell-to wait until the many threads linking
them had been woven tightly together, leaving sex for the last strand
in the bond.
He parked the Thunderbird in Rachael's driveway, beside her red 560 SL, which she had not bothered to put in the garage.
    Thick bougainvillea, ablaze with thousands of red blossoms, grew
up one wall of the bungalow and over part of the roof. With the help
of a latticework frame, it formed a living green-and-scarlet canopy
above the front stoop.
    Ben stood in cool bougainvillea shadows, with the warm sun at his
back, and rang the bell half a dozen times, growing concerned when
Rachael took so long to respond.
    Inside, music was playing. Suddenly, it was cut off.
    When at last Rachael opened the door, she had the security chain
in place, and she looked warily through the narrow gap. She smiled
when she saw him, though it seemed as much a smile of nervous relief
as of pleasure. “Oh, Benny, I'm so glad it's you.”
    She slipped the brass chain and let him in. She was barefoot,
wearing a tightly belted silky blue robe-and carrying a gun.
    Disconcerted, he said, “What're you doing with that?”
    “I
didn't know who it might be,” she said, switching on the two safeties and putting the pistol on the small foyer table. Then, seeing his frown and realizing that her explanation was inadequate, she said, “Oh, I don't
know. I guess I'm just… shaky.”
    “I heard about Eric on the radio. Just minutes ago.”
    She came into his arms. Her hair was partially damp. Her skin was
sweet with the fragrance of jasmine, and her breath smelled of
chocolate. He knew she must have been taking one of her long lazy
soaks in the tub.
    Holding her close, he felt her trembling. He said, “According to
the radio, you were there.”
    “Yes.”
    “I'm sorry.”
    “It was horrible, Benny.” She clung to him. “I'll never forget the sound of the truck hitting him. Or the way he bounced and rolled along the pavement.” She shuddered.
    “Easy,” he said, pressing his cheek against her damp hair. “You
don't have to talk about it.”
    “Yes, I do,” she said. “I've got to talk it out if I'm ever going
to get it off my mind.”
    He put a hand under her chin and tilted her lovely face up to him.
He kissed her once, gently. Her mouth tasted of chocolate.
    “Okay,” he said. “Let's go sit down, and you can tell me what happened.”
    “Lock the door,” she said.
    “It's okay,” he said, leading her out of the foyer.
    She stopped and refused to move. “Lock the door,” she insisted.
    Puzzled, he went back and locked it.
    She took the pistol from the foyer and carried it with her.
Something was wrong, something more than Eric's death, but Ben did not understand what it was.
    The living room was shrouded in deep shadows, for she had drawn
all the drapes. That was distinctly odd. Ordinarily she loved the sun
and reveled in its warm caress with the languid pleasure of a cat
sunning on a windowsill. Me had never seen the drapes drawn in this
house until now.
    “Leave them closed,” Rachael said when Ben started to unveil the
windows.
    She switched on a single lamp and sat in its amber glow, in the
corner of a peach-colored sofa. The room was very modern, all in
shades of peach and white with dark blue accents, polished bronze
lamps, and a bronze-and-glass coffee table. In her blue robe she was
in