Watching For Willa. Helen Myers R.

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СКАЧАТЬ sure he had an excellent view; then she gave him the slow smile that used to make A.J. start breathing like a freight train engine carrying one car too many. “But I’m hardly alone am I, Mr. Denton? After all, I have you to watch over me.”

      Something mesmerizing and yet untamed flared in his eyes. “That’s your biggest danger.” This time he was the one to point to the phone. “Make your call. You have three minutes before I reset the electronic bolt lock. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of that door when I do.”

      Willa stared, speechless, until he disappeared into a room and slammed the door behind him. Surely he didn’t mean that?

      But what if he did?

      Most important, what was that nonsense about his being dangerous to her? She didn’t care for that threat one bit, or how it reminded her of the stalkings going on around Vilary.

      Get a grip, kiddo. The only thing she could take comfort in was knowing that a man in Zachary Denton’s condition was about as likely to be connected with the trouble in town as it was apt to snow tonight.

      Wishing she’d never come over here, Willa hurried across the room and snatched up the telephone’s receiver. Only then did she notice that her hand was shaking. Zachary Denton had achieved what he’d set out to do: he’d frightened her. In fact he’d left her trembling all over.

      He waited until late to make his move, waited until she’d returned from another trip to town and had shut off the lights for the night. He’d begun to think she never would. What an energetic one, he thought, circling the house to peer in the uncurtained windows to make sure she had given up the scrubbing and polishing for the day.

      Determined, too. She had to be to spend the night in a sleeping bag on the floor. He’d seen her retrieve the thing from the van a short while ago. He would have to remember that about her. It meant she wouldn’t be a pushover; not at all like the others, who’d proved no challenge, making him lose interest.

      He’d already discovered much from simply watching her. Yes, she was the best so far. The least like Judith, though, except for the hair…and the eyes. But that was okay. What was important was that she was here, conveniently within reach.

      The sudden flash of the overhead light in her kitchen made him recoil and press flat back against the cool damp stones of the house. Damn, now what? His heart pounded surging adrenaline through him like a pulsating sprinkler system gone haywire. Had she spotted him? He hadn’t heard a scream. But what if she’d run to the phone to call the police? He had to check and find out.

      Easing to the window again, he peered around the metal trim. No, he’d let himself worry for nothing. Apparently, she was only thirsty and had come down to get a drink. He watched her fill a glass with ice cubes, then bottled water from the refrigerator.

      His confidence returned and with it came lust. But all too soon he had to press himself back against the unyielding stone because her skimpy top and panties left little to the imagination.

      He wanted to touch her breasts. He rubbed his hands over smooth mortar and stone pretending it was her flesh. He wanted to hurt her, knowing she would be aroused; he wanted to hear her beg him to stop, though he knew she wouldn’t really mean it.

      He owed Judith for teaching him that secret. If not for her, he might never have discovered his hidden talent, his great power. And soon beautiful Willa would know it, too…would know his power.

      He imagined the ecstasy that moment would bring, the feel of his hands around her creamy throat as she drew him deeper and deeper inside her body. That would be the best moment because the harder he squeezed, the sooner her face would become Judith’s…desirable, untouchable…cruel, untouchable Judith. Only then would he let the fiery red sea of excitement and pleasure consume him.

      If only he could tell Willa now how fantastic it was going to be. But it was too soon. “Much too soon,” he groaned in misery as he rocked his feverish forehead against the night-cooled stone. His pelvis, too.

      Then he stopped. Another idea was forming.

      If he hurried, he could do something. He could be her first thought in the morning. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, he thought as the house went dark again, but it was a beginning.

      Eager to get started, he stumbled off into the night.

      CHAPTER THREE

      She stretched, as far as the sleeping bag allowed, and took her time before opening her eyes. Waking had always been a sensual experience to her, much like indulging in a long bubble bath, slipping into something sleek and silky or making love. Something to be enjoyed thoroughly or not at all. Her mattress hadn’t been ideal—now thirty, she had to admit she preferred the comforts of a conventional bed to roughing it with the equipment she and A.J. had used back when they’d been hikers and campers—but there was nothing like the sleep that followed a day of all-out physical labor to make a hard floor inconsequential.

      Ready for some coffee and round two, she finally flipped back the top of her unzipped sleeping bag and rolled herself up onto her feet. She stretched again as she padded to the bathroom. By the light already spilling in through the windows she estimated it was around six o’clock, her favorite hour to start the day. All she needed now was coffee and a banana, her breakfast almost every morning. After that she would be ready to start painting.

      When she came out of the bathroom, still toweling her face dry, she thought about the newspaper and hoped she would find one on her driveway when she got downstairs. Thank goodness the paperboy had been running late yesterday; she’d intercepted him and he’d agreed to add her to his route starting today. She liked to ease into her mornings with the paper. Not via the front pages, though. After A.J. died, she’d stopped giving herself an ulcer over what they printed there.

      What appealed to her was browsing through the home and living sections, the fashions and finally the comics. Who cared if her accountant brother-in-law rolled his eyes at that? Willa smiled as she hung up the single bath towel she’d brought from the duplex. Jack could chide and lecture all he wanted about how a business-woman needed to pay attention to the financial news. As far as she was concerned, her “business” was understanding women and their fantasies. Nothing she’d ever read in the so-called serious sections of the paper had ever helped her or anyone she knew have a happier more satisfying relationship with a lover or spouse. In fact, from her vantage point, those killed romance.

      An article about how more people were adding fountains into their homes for their ornateness as well as their soothing effect, inspired her to invest in one for the entryway of her store. As anticipated, it soon lured passers-by, who then became intrigued with the sensual massage and bath products she displayed around the fountain.

      And that hadn’t been an isolated experiment. The fashion sections of the paper helped her determine upcoming color trends and styles for her lingerie and loungewear inventory. The comics gave her a lift on days when being an entrepreneur seemed to be the most insane choice a woman in her situation could make. Let the financial moguls posture and pontificate on the business section’s pages; she’d never met one who understood how to tell his slightly plump wife that he would love to see her in a sexy item of lingerie or robe.

      Willa bent at the waist and brushed her long hair forward from the nape. Thinking of robes reminded her that she needed to call Starla and remind her about the short silk ones they were going to bring out of stock to add to the sale merchandise today. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t. Her young assistant manager would utter a funny, theatrical СКАЧАТЬ