The Truth About Elyssa. Lorna Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ to lighter topics—the summer’s blockbuster movie, politicians she’d interviewed, a forthcoming book by a former senator that was expected to set Washington on its ears.

      When their plates were removed, he reached for her hand, toyed with her fingers. A faint flush lit her cheeks. He touched her wrist and noted with satisfaction how her pulse jumped beneath his fingers. No matter what he and Elyssa said aloud, below the surface another conversation took place: I want you. Soon. Want me back.

      They continued talking, lingering over coffee and dessert. Brett barely noticed the time passing until he glanced around and saw that the restaurant was nearly empty. Their waiter stood in the corner, eyeing them balefully. Brett beckoned to him. “I think he wants us out of here.”

      Elyssa took one last bite of cheesecake and set down her fork. “That was delicious.”

      “We’ll come again.” Often. Patience was a virtue, but so was persistence.

      A sliver of moon glinted in the star-dusted sky as they climbed Elyssa’s porch steps. The daytime heat had abated, but the air was still thick and muggy. In the oak trees crickets buzzed, the only sound that broke the stillness.

      Elyssa got out her key. “I enjoyed the evening.”

      “So did I. Here, let me get the door.” He took the key from her, unlocked the door and followed her inside.

      “Do you want some coffee?”

      He shook his head. “I’m doing early rounds. What I want—” he stepped closer, put his arms around her “—is this.”

      She only had time to register that this was the move of a confident man, before his lips covered hers.

      She’d imagined kissing him more times than she could count, but now it was real and she was lost. Lost in the pressure of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the warmth and rhythm of his breath. She felt his heart beat in tune with hers.

      She kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his. She could hold him like this, kiss him like this forever.

      “I want you,” he murmured against her mouth.

      Oh, I want you, too. So much. But she’d learned to be cautious. She’d learned how easy it was to go with your emotions and end up paying the price.

      She drew back and put a hand to his chest. “Brett, we’re moving too fast.”

      “Not nearly,” he whispered, sprinkling kisses along her jaw.

      “For me we are. I need some time.”

      He sighed. “I’ll give it to you then…grudgingly.” His lips curved in a half smile. “But don’t make me wait too long.”

      She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure how much time would be long enough.

      “One more kiss,” he said and pulled her close again.

      When they drew apart, his eyes were as dazed as hers.

      Brett kept strictly to the speed limit as he drove home. He didn’t trust himself to drive too fast; his blood still pounded from Elyssa’s kisses. They’d packed a punch he’d never expected.

      “Whoa,” he told himself. This didn’t feel like the lighthearted affair he had in mind. This felt…serious.

      But he knew his limitations. He couldn’t let this relationship become anything but casual. “Back off, Cameron,” he ordered himself. “She’s right. You’re moving way too fast.”

      Still under the spell of Brett’s kisses, Elyssa wandered through the house. She measured coffee into the coffeemaker for tomorrow, turned off the downstairs lights and slipped off her sandals. Dangling them by the straps, she climbed the stairs.

      In her room she glanced at the bed. If she hadn’t stopped Brett—stopped herself—they’d be there now. She’d done the right thing, she told herself firmly, as she ran her hand over the pillow. She needed to probe her heart and mind before she took the next step.

      She went into the bathroom and slowly undressed. How would it have been to undress for Brett? To watch him undress? To feel flesh against flesh?

      Her lips still tingled from his kisses. Her skin was still warm. She looked in the mirror. Dreamy, half-closed eyes gazed back. She touched her lips. How long since someone had kissed her like that? Never before, she thought. Never.

      She slipped into a nightgown and was strolling back into the bedroom when the telephone rang. She jumped, then laughed. Probably Cassie, dying to hear all the details of her evening. Or maybe Brett was calling to say good-night.

      She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

      “Elyssa Jarmon?” The male voice sounded faraway, disembodied.

      “Yes.”

      “This is a warning.”

      Her hand tightened on the receiver. She checked her caller ID. “Anonymous.” Nervously she glanced out the window. The blinds were open, and she stood in a revealing gown, exposed to any eyes that cared to look. Hand trembling, she reached over and shut the blinds.

      “Stick to clowning.”

      “Wh-what do you mean?”

      He laughed. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You keep following in Randy Barber’s footsteps, you’re in trouble.” The line went dead.

      Her legs shook as she sank down on the bed. She sat for a few moments, taking deep breaths, then when she was sure she could stand, she raced downstairs. She peered outside but saw no one. No strange cars, either. Then she checked all the doors and windows and made sure her alarm system was turned on.

      Upstairs again, she tried to calm herself by considering what she should do. Be logical. Make a list.

      She grabbed a pencil and wrote “call the police,” then crossed it out. She doubted she’d get much response by reporting one phone call. She’d done a story once on a woman who’d received dozens of calls from a stalker before the police paid attention to her plight. And in this case, what could they do when Elyssa couldn’t tell them who the caller was?

      The pencil dropped from her nervous hands. Logic and planning hadn’t calmed her yet. Think.

      She could call the telephone company and put a block on anonymous calls. Or tape the next call—if another one came—and try to figure out who was on the line. Yes, that made sense.

      Frowning, she stared at the phone. That voice. She’d heard it before, she was certain. But where?

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