Whispers and Lies. Diane Pershing

      “Okay, then. I guess we’ll do it here.”

      He plopped himself down on the second-to-bottom step. Sighing loudly, she joined him, but on the step above. She was eye level with him now, illuminated solely by the bug light from the porch above them. Stray strands of wiry hair were backlit in yellow. “Let’s hear it,” he said.

      He watched her as she gazed down at her hands, played with her knuckles as she spoke. “It’s just that, well, I’ve had just about nothing but trouble with the male of the species all my life. The heartache kind, the being-lied-to kind, the being-left-feeling-useless-and-ugly kind. Mom had a boyfriend for a while, then he stole money from her and took off. I had a husband and he cheated on me. No dad, no male role model while I was growing up. Stuff like that.”

      She raised her gaze to meet his; the expression in her eyes was one of rueful resignation. “I prefer my animals. They always tell the truth. If they’re hungry, they let you know. If they want to be left alone, they go off. They’re soft, eager to please and never leave you.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Now who got naked?”

      He sat still for a moment, taking in all she had told him. This woman moved him, deeply. Words seemed shallow, but he managed to say, “Thanks for trusting me.” He took one of her hands in his and squeezed it.

      She looked down at their joined hands, then back up at him. “Actually, I’m not sure I do.” Her expression was both sad and apologetic at the same time. “But then, that could be more about me than about you.”

      “A real possibility,” he said lightly, wanting her to trust him, but knowing that, at least on one level, she had a right not to. The personal and the professional again.

      He lightly massaged each of her small fingers, one at a time, thoroughly enjoying the physical connection. The hitch in her breath let him know the sensation was mutual.

      “Back to the animal thing,” he said. “The comparison doesn’t hold up. Humans have certain needs—for verbal communication, for the touching of flesh that isn’t all fur. And,” he added with a grin, “unless you’re twisted, there are some fairly basic needs that can’t be filled by them.”

      “Um, yeah, I’ll give you that.”

      He really wanted to ask her what she did for that one specific, very basic need—namely, sex. But he had a feeling it would disrupt the fragile sense of trust they’d established. Instead, he set her hand down on his bended knee and picked up the other one, rubbing the fingers, one at a time.

      Frozen in time and space, Lou simply couldn’t move. Will’s touch was everything she’d fantasized all those years ago. Firm and sure of itself, yet gentle at the same time. Her pulse quickened, her breathing grew louder in her ears.

      “Why did you move so much?”

      His question startled her out of a sensual haze. “Excuse me?”

      “When you were little.”

      “Oh.” Still reacting to his touch, she heard herself answer as though from a distance. “Mom worked as a nanny, for newborns, mostly, and they were short-term jobs.”

      “And so you moved every time a job ended?”

      She managed a shrug. He was massaging the palm of her hand now; there was something amazingly intimate about the whole thing. Hands, knees, touch, warmth. “I guess so. I didn’t question it—I just thought that’s what you did. A job stopped, it was time for a new town. She made packing and moving an adventure, so it wasn’t too bad.”

      “Why’d you finally settle here?”

      You, was what she nearly blurted out. But she was not ready to get that naked with him. In fact…

      Withdrawing her hands from his ministrations, she clasped them around her bent knees. “I begged her. I was thirteen years old and I wanted to start and end a school year in the same place. She managed to get a nice job with the Griswalds as a full-time housekeeper, and she came into a little money from an inheritance so we could put a down payment on this place. I got jobs after school and we got by.”

      “Tell me about her. Do you mind?”

      “Not at all. She was a sweet woman, totally devoted to me. To her detriment, I’m afraid. Not that she martyred herself, trust me. She had hobbies that she loved and good friends. We made a nice life here.”

      And Mom’s had been way too short. Lou felt her eyes filling with tears. “You know what, Will? I’m tired.” She rose from the steps and realized she was actually exhausted.

      “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

      Will followed Lou up the stairs, reluctant to have their evening end. There had been something different, something special about it. Sitting with Lou on the steps, talking quietly in the dark, he’d felt an affinity, an intimate connection to her that was rare for him to feel with anyone.

      At the door, she pulled her keys out from her purse, then turned to him. “Well, thanks,” she said. In the yellow light, he could see the tired lines under her eyes. Large brown eyes. Kind brown eyes.

      “For what?” He handed her the to-go package.

      “Dinner. The talk. The hand rub.” She smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve had human discourse. Conversations with animals tend to be kind of one-sided.”

      Without thinking, he placed his palms on her soft cheeks, angled her head up, bent over and kissed her. He felt her body tense for a moment; then she relaxed. Her lips softened, parted slightly. He slid his tongue in and tasted her. Moist. Sweet. His body responded instantly…and way too intensely.

      Breaking the kiss, he drew back, dropped his hands.

      She gazed at him, eyes wide. “Why did you kiss me?”

      It had been a momentary lapse of judgment, following through on something that should never have begun in the first place. He didn’t want to play around in his hometown, then leave. Not with someone vulnerable to hurt the way Lou was.

      Still, he owed her the truth. “I told you I was attracted to you. Nothing since has changed my mind. I’m sorry we don’t live near each other.”

      “Oh.” He could see she was not sure what to do with that. Embarrassed, she fumbled for her house key and inserted it in the lock. Then she turned again to face him. “Good night, Will.”

      “Sleep well.”

      Whistling, he began to descend the stairs and was halfway down when he heard a piercing cry shatter the stillness of the night.

      Chapter 3

      Will rushed right back up the stairs and flung open the door to see Lou standing in the middle of the living room, her hand to her mouth and shaking her head. It was a small, high-ceilinged room with two archways, one that led to the rear of the house and another through which a kitchen was visible. The entire place was in shambles. Lamps were overturned, couch pillows strewn about, the drawers of a tall sideboard pulled out and their contents, mostly table linens and large platters, dumped on the floor. Paintings had been torn off the wall, their backs ripped open.

      Quickly, Will closed the door, went to Lou and guided her to a small chair near the fireplace. “Sit,” he ordered, then added, “Stay here.” She did.

      He picked up the fireplace poker and quickly searched the rest of the small living quarters. The rear arch led to two small bedrooms and a bath. The first bedroom was in as much disarray as the living room: clothing heaped on the floor of a closet, drawers opened, sheets and blankets tossed about. Whoever it was who had done this had been in a hurry. It looked as though a tornado had tunneled its way through. In the small bathroom, the contents of the medicine cabinet lay scattered on the tile floor. The second bedroom, however, was amazingly neat. It seemed obvious they hadn’t had time to get to this room before they’d taken off.

      Will