Vivian Arend - Turn It On

Maxine raced in and snatched up the phone, dropping the grocery bag in her hand to the floor to juggle the receiver. “Hello?”

“Fucking bitch.”

She froze. “Who is this?”

Rough laughter followed and the line crackled like there was interference or a weak connection. “You live alone.” The whispered words scratched in her ears and she fought to remember if she’d ever heard the voice before.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

The dial tone rang in her ear and Maxine shuddered. She phoned the police and waited anxiously until a marked car pulled into her driveway. An hour later when they left she was still shaking and now spitting mad. She was in the middle of calling Natasha when she realized the last thing she needed was family getting involved. They were already upset enough that she chose to live in the house by herself. There would be no chance she’d be able to fight off their objections if they found out she had a crackpot calling her. And while Natasha wouldn’t tell the family, she’d tell Junior, and that would be as bad as the whole clan knowing.

Maxine paced, putting away her groceries and swearing into the air, wishing there were some way to make sense of it. The police offered nothing more than a promise to do the occasional drive-by and to get her phone records checked. They figured it was likely a prank call. Their suggestion—go on with your life, but keep your eyes open.

Another mouse scrambled across the floor and Max threw a can of soup at it in frustration. She’d been emptying traps for the past week and there seemed to be no end to the mouse hoard.

After putting away her final purchases, Maxine collapsed into her favorite couch in the living room with a cup of tea and tried to relax. All the strange occurrences jumbled together in her brain. The water damage, the phone calls—first the fax machines and now some prankster. Junior had told her he thought whoever put up Gramma’s shelf should be shot, since they’d used smaller screw sizes than building code called for. Even the mouse invasion seemed wrong.

The rest of the house repairs were complete, but there was a sense of unease hanging over her like she’d never felt before. Like something watching her. Waiting.

She snorted into her teacup at her overactive imagination. There was no reason to feel like this. The security system was going in. The police were alerted so if she did have any disturbances she’d be on the quick response list. She lived in Thompson, not New York, for heaven’s sake. This was small-town America, where people looked out for each other.

Still.

She made a face at herself as she wandered down to the basement, looking for where the game equipment was stored. She’d just pulled a baseball bat from the pile when the scent of something rotting hit her. Following the aroma, she ended up at a stack of boxes near the furnace. It took a few minutes to check through them all, but when she opened the right one her eyes watered and her stomach turned over in protest. Whatever had been in the box was in the advanced stages of decomposition, and the stench made her gag. Maxine quickly tossed it into a plastic bag and sealed it tight.

It took another hour to get the putrid stuff to the garbage, and the remaining boxes back in order. She picked up her bat and headed up to her bedroom. She propped the solid wood club in the corner of the room, feeling a little silly. Then she crawled into a tub full of bubbles to try and rid herself of the sensation of the filth that clung to her. Thank God she’d found the box before the furnace had turned on and sent the smell throughout the whole house.

Time to make some plans. The weekend approached and she swore she’d get to see Ryan. No one in her family was going to mess it up this time. Chatting on the phone with him daily was nice, but getting to see him in person? She relaxed into the warm water and sighed. A dose of Ryan was totally what she needed right now to chase away the rest of the gloom and doom hanging over her.

“Boss, all the final checks are done on the second-level windows. Did you want me to link the last relays or do you still plan on completing the hookup?”

Ryan watched through the living room window as Maxine pulled into her driveway. He gave a distracted wave to his foreman. “I’ll finish up, Keith. Thanks, and thank the boys for putting in the extra energy. I appreciate it.”

Keith grinned at him. “I bet you do.” He flicked his head in Max’s direction. “She’s a nice-looking girl, boss. She got a sister?”

Ryan slapped the man on the shoulder and pushed him toward the door. “Cousins only, and even the oldest is too young for you. Besides, I think she’s called Maxilla or some awful thing.”

Keith snickered. “She could be called Godzilla for all I care if she’s got legs like her cousin.” He pulled open the door to admit a smiling Maxine. “Ma’am. Have a great evening.” He slipped out, shooting a thumbs-up at Ryan behind Max’s back.

Ryan shook his head. Damn crew. Usually he had no troubles with the ribald comments from his blunt-spoken employees, but today he could have done without the smart-ass remarks. The discussion as the guys worked the wiring on the master-bedroom windows—suggesting the bedroom calisthenics possible on the football-field-sized bed—had driven him crazy.

Probably because he had the same fucking thoughts running through his mind.

“Hi, Ryan. Long time no see.”

She lit up the room and he couldn’t resist. It had been too damn long since they’d touched, and hearing her sultry voice day after day made his desire for her rocket. He dipped his head to kiss her, soft and gentle, on the cheek before brushing his lips over hers. She leaned into him, her sweet lips clinging to his as she wrapped her hands around his torso to mold them together. He licked her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, brushing his tongue over her teeth. She made a tantalizing little noise deep in her throat that shot a thrill through him. He cupped her neck in one hand, tugging her hips closer with the other as he continued to consume her mouth, slowly and yet completely. One thumb touched warm, satiny skin where her blouse separated from the top of her slacks, and he rubbed back and forth, teasing her.

Tormenting him.

She was submissive under his touch, curving her body against him, She lifted her head to ease his tongue’s path, allow his lips to glide down her throat as they shared the heat growing between them. A distant buzzing broke through his desire-clouded mind.

Fuck, the oven timer.

Ryan kissed her once more before retreating, pulling away from her taste and her touch and the thundering need ripping through him. He smiled down at her. “Welcome home.”

She flicked her gaze to the floor before tilting her chin up in a determined fashion. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.”

They stared at each other for a moment and Ryan’s heart thumped hard. Concentrate. Finish the system first, then dinner, and then see where this goes. Oh Lord, he hoped she was finally ready, and that there were no Turner emergencies to interrupt them.

Max licked her lips. “I need to change out of my work clothes.”

Ryan held himself back. Fuck, did she know her husky voice sounded like an invitation to join her? He took a deep breath—after waiting this long he was not going to ravish her before he fed her. After? All bets were off. “I need to finish hooking up a few things on the system and I promised I’d provide dinner. The cannelloni is nearly ready. You go ahead, I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”

Her eyes glinted as she backed away, teasing him with her smile. “I love Italian food.”

Ryan waved a hand at her. “You love all kinds of food. That’s why we get along so well.”

She made her way up the stars and he stared after her, admiring the sway of her hips, his body tightening with need. She turned at the top and winked at him. “I knew you’d still be watching me.”

Ryan held up his hands in defeat. “What can I say? You’ve got a great…staircase.”

Maxine laughed. One of the many clocks in the house sounded the top of the hour and her laugh died away. She grasped the banister so tightly her knuckles changed color.

“Maxine, what’s the matter?” He was on the stairs, racing up them two at a time to reach her, pulling her back into his arms.

She shook her head and opened her mouth to answer when the phone rang and her face went white. She stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“Is it the damn fax machine again?” he asked, pointing to the phone on a writing desk adjacent to the window. “I’ll get them to stop.”

She mumbled something so quietly he barely made out the words, but it sounded like an apology. She buried her face against him.

The answering machine kicked in.

“…one-nine-seven is not available. Please leave a message.”

Following the beep, a stream of foul curses carried over the line, calling Maxine by name and threatening her with horrible, crude words. Ryan grabbed the phone. “Who the hell do you think you are, asshole?”

The line went dead.

Ryan swung on Max. “What the fuck was that all about?”

Her complexion was paler than before, her eyes huge in her face and Ryan swore under his breath at his stupidity. She was scared to death. The last thing she needed was him going apeshit on her.

“Damn it, this has happened before, hasn’t it?” He forced himself to speak calmly, quietly.

When she nodded he wrapped his arms around her and held her close until the blood pounding through him slowed enough he could hear normally again. He tugged her down the hall toward her bedroom. While he wasn’t sure what else was happening, he knew this.