Barbara Dunlop - Overheated

Her fingers curled around his, and something felt totally right about the touch.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the headrest. “What are we doing here, Larry?”

“I haven’t a clue,” he admitted. “You want to stop?”

To his relief, she shook her head.

He pulled into the parking lot of Softco, driving around the building to the back staircase that led to her apartment.

He killed the engine and flipped the catch on his seat belt. Jennifer’s eyes blinked blearily open, but David stayed sound asleep.

“I’ll carry him up,” Larry whispered into the silence.

Crystal smiled her appreciation, and she opened her door, flipping the seat forward to help Jennifer out.

Larry bundled David into his arms, making sure the gecko didn’t get dropped. Then he followed Crystal and Jennifer up the long staircase.

The dog named Rufus was waiting for them in the compact kitchen.

“Oh, man,” Crystal moaned. “The poor guy needs a walk.”

“I’ll take him,” Larry immediately offered, since, obviously, Crystal couldn’t leave the children to walk the dog.

After settling David in the spare bedroom, Larry clipped the leash on Rufus. The dog seemed more than willing to come with him, and Larry followed Crystal’s directions to a pathway that was partially lighted by the overhead lights of the parking lot.

It was a quick walk, and soon they were trotting back up the staircase.

Larry knocked gently on the door, and Crystal opened it, still in her pale-blue dress, but now with bare feet.

“Thanks,” she breathed, stepping out of the way. “I know you don’t like me to call you nice.”

He moved inside. “Couldn’t you call me rugged or macho or something instead?”

“It was very macho of you to walk my dog.”

“That’s better,” he acknowledged, pulling the door closed behind him and removing Rufus’s leash.

“Coffee?” asked Crystal.

He glanced at his watch. “You sure it’s not too late?”

“Nine-thirty?”

“You do have to get up for school in the morning.”

Crystal crossed to the cupboards, opened the corner one, then stretched up to reach the bright red mugs on the top shelf. The action pulled up her hem, revealing a few more inches of shapely thigh.

Larry felt a pulse throb through his brain.

“Cream or sugar?” she asked.

“Black,” he responded, dragging his gaze away.

She set the cups on the countertop, and her dress settled back into place.

The coffeemaker finished filling the carafe, and she poured two steaming cups, taking hers black as well. Then she handed one to Larry, nodding to the small, connected living-room area.

Rufus followed at Larry’s heels.

Crystal took one end of the burgundy couch, and Larry sat down in the other, setting his mug on the end table beside him. The dog curled up next to his feet.

“We okay?” he asked her.

She nodded, crooking one knee and planting her back against the arm of the sofa so that she faced him.

He nodded toward the bedroom. “They going to be okay?”

“I hope so,” said Crystal. “Zane won’t hang around long. I just hope…” She got a faraway look in her eyes.

“Hope what?” he prompted.

“Last time he did this, things got ugly for Amber.”

A horrible thought came into Larry’s mind. “Is he abusive?”

“Not physically. Certainly emotionally.” Crystal paused for a sip of her coffee. “Let’s just say my sister has a troubled relationship with alcohol. Normally, she’s fine. But in times of stress, she leans on it a bit too much for support. And the last time Zane left, it was a time of stress. I ended up keeping Jennifer and David here for a month until she got herself straightened out. I have a feeling it’s going to happen again.”

Rufus gave a little moan, shifting onto his side and stretching his legs out on the wooden floor.

“How long ago was that?” Larry asked.

“Two years.”

“So, the kids remember?”

She gave a nod. “They remember.”

Larry’s gaze flicked to the door of the spare bedroom.

“What about you?” he asked Crystal.

She looked puzzled. “Do I remember?”

“Any exes in your past likely to rear their heads?”

“My husband died two years ago.”

Larry felt an instant pang of empathy. “I’m so sorry. I lost my wife, Libby, three years ago.”

“Did you love her?” asked Crystal.

“Very much.”

“I didn’t love Simon.” Crystal surprised him by saying. Then she gave a nervous laugh. “That sounds callous, doesn’t it? But it’s true.”

“You married a man you didn’t love?”

That definitely puzzled Larry. Crystal must have had her pick of a thousand men.

“I thought I loved him. Doesn’t that sound pathetic? I saw what I wanted to see, until I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.”

“What was it you didn’t see?”

“His fixation on my body.”

“Ouch,” said Larry, feeling even guiltier than he had before. That must be why she’d jumped down his throat.

“To the exclusion of anything else,” she elaborated. “Simon and I had other problems.” She lifted her coffee mug in a mock toast. “He loved the red dress.”

“You don’t have to wear the red dress,” Larry quickly put in.

“I know,” she said. “Trust me when I tell you, I’m never wearing anything I don’t want to wear, ever again.”

Yet, she’d offered to wear the red dress for him. Larry didn’t want to speculate about what that meant. Well, he did want to speculate, but he knew that was dangerous territory.

“I’d asked him for a divorce,” she said, eyes getting a faraway look. “The night before he was killed. I was all set to divorce him, then suddenly I was the grieving widow.”

Larry couldn’t even fathom her experience. He’d mourned Libby for months, years even, taking solace in his work. “How was Simon killed?”

“Scuba equipment failure. He was in the Navy. What about Libby?”

“Heart attack,” said Larry, even now struggling to keep the emotion out of his voice. “We didn’t even know there was a problem with her heart.”

Crystal watched his expression closely.

“It was people like you that made me feel like a fake,” she whispered. “People who deserved the sympathy, the cards, the flowers and the eulogy. Through it all, I wanted to stand up and shout that I was a fraud. I was going to divorce the man. But I knew it wouldn’t have helped. Other people needed to grieve, and they needed me to play my role. So I pretended I’d loved him, pretended I cried and pretended he was the paragon they made him out to be at the memorial service.”

“You did the right thing,” Larry offered.

She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. “And then there’s his service pension and life insurance.” Her voice went lower still. “I can’t spend it. Every penny of that money is still sitting in the bank.”

Larry glanced around the plainly furnished apartment. “You are his widow. You’re legally entitled-”

She shook her head emphatically.

“You have to do something with the money.”

“Maybe if I have kids someday. Maybe for Jennifer’s and David’s educations. But not for me.”

“Penance?” asked Larry.

“Integrity,” she responded.

He drained his coffee cup. “I can respect that.”

The woman had brains and integrity. He admired both. She looked so vulnerable curled up under the soft lamplight.

The urge to draw her into his arms was definitely growing strong. He forced himself to stand up, determined to get out of here before he did something both stupid and inappropriate.

CRYSTAL WAS DREAMING OF expressive, hazel eyes, broad shoulders and tousled, dark hair. Larry drew her into his arms, whispering in her ear. She couldn’t make out the words, but she could feel the puff of his breath on her skin.

He was panting.

Then his cold, wet nose touched her shoulder.

Wait a minute.

She blinked her eyes in the dim light, coming face-to-face with Rufus.

Crystal groaned.

The dog cocked his head, ascertained she was awake, then turned toward the door. Two paces later, he stopped and looked back, obviously expecting her to follow.

“Now?” she asked aloud.

His brows knit apologetically.

She supposed this was what she got for taking in a geriatric dog.

She threw back the covers, planting her bare feet on the woven mat, then tugging her light, sleeveless nightgown down her thighs.

“All right,” she told the dog, following behind. “I’ll open the door, but you’re on your own out there.”

Hopefully, Rufus would be smart enough to water a tree behind the back fence and hightail it back into the apartment. She took her responsibility as a pet owner seriously. But she took her responsibility as a babysitting auntie more seriously.

She followed Rufus through the living room where, to her surprise, he veered off to the spare bedroom.

“Hey,” she hissed. “No. This way.”

Again, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder, waiting patiently.

Then she heard it.

Muffled sobs coming from the kids’ room.

She quickly scooted past Rufus to find David, his face burrowed in his pillow, his little body quivering beneath the sheet.

“Hey, buddy,” she crooned, smoothing his dark hair and crouching down beside the bed.

She gave Rufus a grateful scratch on the head.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, trying not to wake Jennifer who was in the other twin bed across the room.

David shook his head, sniffing and drawing in a shuddering breath.

She grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and handed it to him.

He haphazardly wiped his nose.

“Are you sad?” asked Crystal.

He shook his head.