Gwynne Forster - Secret Desire

Kate knew she watched him because she loved the rhythm of his long strides, seemingly carefree. Taking that at face value could get her into difficulty, she knew, because Luke Hickson was not a happy-go-lucky man. She’d learned, too, that his eyes had a crinkle and a glint that could fool her into thinking he was about to break into a smile. But she knew she’d better wait until he actually laughed. That crinkle and glint could get a person into trouble.

She set the buzzer and went into her office. Business was slow, and she had to create some excitement. She wanted the store to become a place where people hung out, a kind of cultural center. She’d thought of putting two round, marble-top tables in the front and serving coffee, but discarded the idea. With one cup of coffee and a magazine, a person could occupy a table for hours. A reading group. She’d sponsor one, and give the members a fifteen-percent discount on books.

She bit into a piece of gingerbread. If Luke said he’d tasted better, she wouldn’t believe him. She posted a sign-up sheet on the wall to enroll customers in the reading group and answered the door.

“How may I help you?” she asked the woman, a stranger.

The woman produced a business card. “My first romance novel is just out, and I was wondering if you’d like me to sign your stock.”

Her stock! She had three copies of Duckie’s Love Gone Wild, and if she sold one of them, autographed or not, she’d be lucky. With its hideous cover, customers didn’t even turn it over to read the blurb. She sympathized with the woman, who had to feel terrible about that cover, so she gave her a chair and brought her a bottle of lemonade. If only the woman would drink it, so she wouldn’t see her getting the books from the bottom shelf in the section next to Horror and Different Strokes, a euphemism for same sex.

“You only have three?” the author asked. “This is fabulous. You’ve sold all the rest. I suppose you’ll order some more?”

Kate made it a policy not to lie except to save somebody from excruciating pain, and she nearly shouted for joy when the buzzer rang and she didn’t have to answer. That joy was short-lived, however, when she saw Axel Strange.

She introduced him to the author, hoping to divert his attention from her, but he had charm enough for both women. And, to her chagrin, he was the first person to sign up for the reading group, and she immediately lost interest in the idea.

“This is a gas,” he said. “I love reading and discussing books.”

Was that so? Well, he could prove it. “In that case, you’d value a book signed especially for you by the author herself. Ms. Gray is signing books.”

As she’d expected, he made a show of getting the book, engaging the woman in a long conversation about his own writing plans, and questioning her about writing—how she got started, and how long it took to write a book. When Ms. Gray showed signs of exasperation, she called him off.

“She’s only here for a short while, so maybe you’d like to drop her a note.” The woman blew out a long tired breath, quickly signed the remaining two books, thanked Kate, and left. Ms. Gray had evidently had as much of Axel as she could take. Unfortunately for Kate, she was stuck with him.

“How about dinner? The River Café’s the best place around here, but I don’t walk in other men’s footprints, so we’ll go somewhere else.”

Presumptuous, wasn’t he? “Lieutenant, I’m going home to relieve the woman who’s taking care of my son. I’ve had a long day, and I just want to relax.”

He half frowned and half smiled in a chiding way. “Aw, Kate…I can call you Kate, can’t I? You’re not giving me half a chance. Don’t pay any attention to what old Hickson says about me, I’m—”

She cut him off. “Lieutenant, let me tell you that Captain Hickson has never said a word to me about you. Any impression I have of you is one you’ve given me.”

He ignored that barb. “Oh, be a sport. I’m enchanted with you, and you know it.” His face lit up with a smile. “I give a great massage.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean, you work two jobs? Does the police department know you moonlight as a masseuse?” His wounded look could only have been feigned, she decided.

She was not going out with Axel Strange. Might as well be straightforward. “Lieutenant Strange, I’m sorry, but I’m not going out with you.”

A smile quickly erased his suddenly cold expression, causing her to wonder whether he lacked substance. “At least you didn’t say never. Next time, okay?”

“Good night.” She almost asked him to wait until she locked up, but thought better of it. If you gave Axel Strange an inch, he’d take a mile.

Since there hadn’t been a customer in the last half hour, she figured she might as well close the store. She put the day’s receipts in the safe, flicked off the lights, stepped out of the front door, and locked it.

“Give me your keys, lady.”

Oh, Lord, not again. Fear streaked through her, but she steadied her nerves. She knew her life might depend on her staying calm. “There aren’t any keys to this store,” she lied. “My security contractor has to open it from his computer.”

“I’m talking about your house keys, and hurry up.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a voice too strong to be hers, “but I don’t have the house keys with me. I leave them with the superintendent, because she takes care of my…my place.” She looked him in the eye, hoping to convince him.

“Don’t give me all that crap. I mean, the keys to your house in Biddle, and I want them this minute.” He brandished something in his coat pocket that bore the shape of a handgun.

She glimpsed the squad car as it turned the corner, its high beam headlights piercing the twilight, and dashed toward the middle of the street. The car screeched to a halt, and Officer Cowan jumped out. The man raced off down the street.

“What’s the matter?” Cowan yelled loudly. He had a hand on each of her arms.

She explained. “I don’t have to tell you how glad I am to see your car. The man had just started to get rough.”

Cowan yanked off his hat and scratched his head. “He’s blocks from here now. I’ll drop you home, but I want a description. Come by the precinct tomorrow before you open the store and give me the details.”

As Cowan drove her home, she described the man as best she could, but she didn’t mention her fear that the man knew Luke’s moves and considered her vulnerable in Luke’s absence.

At that moment, Luke was assuring himself that he could keep Kate at arm’s length, enjoy her friendship, and leave it at that. He stopped at Dillards in Elizabeth City and bought a CD of Burl Ives songs for Amy, who had just discovered the late folksinger, and a toy rabbit for Marc. Amy didn’t like sharing her own rabbit with Marc, but she loved the child so much that she didn’t want to deny him anything. He bought a colorful set of Bambi and His Friends for Todd. The boy reminded him of Marcus as a small child, exacting a price for his cooperation. If Todd had to take a bath, he wanted as many animals in the tub with him as possible.

His mood shifted as he drove toward Caution Point. He’d been an uncle, first to his wife’s nieces and nephews, and now to Amy, Marc and Todd. He loved all of them, but he was forty-two years old and didn’t have children of his own. He parked in front of his brother and sister-in-law’s home—the one place where his cares always seemed to take wings, as though trouble was unwelcome there—but this time a cold loneliness seeped into him. He sat in the car for some minutes after parking, willing himself to put on a cheerful visage. Finally, he got out of the car, breathed deeply and energized himself with the clean fresh smell of ocean air. He looked across Ocean Avenue at the dogwood trees adorned in pink and white blossoms, giving their trunks and limbs up to the will of the soft spring breeze. Birds chirped from the branches of the crab-apple tree beside his car, and he felt his loneliness roll off him. Amanda and the children greeted him at the door. With Amy holding one of his hands and Marc tugging on the other one, he followed Amanda to the back porch.