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getting caught twice? Think about that. The odds of either of us ever having a gun pointed our way again has got to be eighty zillion to one. So the way I look at it, I just survived the worst moment of my whole life. Everything from here on is a cake-walk."
"I never thought of it that way." She took a deep breath. "I can't believe this, but I think I feel better already. Just seeing you so together after going through the same thing I did makes it easier to handle."
Did that mean she was going to leave? Hello, have a good cry, feel better, then back to the boyfriend? No way.
"Want some coffee? Tea? I've got some good green tea."
"You know," she said with a twist of her lips which, on a day like today, had to suffice for a full-fledged smile, "all of a sudden that sounds good."
He started toward the kitchenette. "How about something to eat? I don't have much but—"
"No. I still can't think of eating. Just some tea would be great."
Good, he thought, because unless you're into chunky peanut butter and stale Ritz crackers, I'm afraid you're out of luck. The cupboard is bare, babe.
"Have a seat on the couch there and I'll start the water boiling."
What do I do now? he asked himself as he filled the kettle.
He'd been planning to start canvassing the Upper West Side with his printout. He'd called in sick at work, telling them he was still too shaken up to make it in. They'd all been understanding, even going so far as to offer him stress counseling, which left him feeling guilty.
But what he needed far more than stress counseling was a big follow-up story.
Then George Meschke himself got on the line and went on about how sales of this week's issue were going through the roof. Lots of the outlets had squawked at first at the double shipments they received, but now they were calling to say thanks—they'd sold out.
So Sandy was the man of the moment down at The Light , but that wasn't going to help him here at home. As much as he needed to find the Savior, he so wanted to make the most of this chance with Beth too. She'd come looking for him , damn it, so he'd be a real jerk to blow her off. Turn her away now and he might never see her again.
Shit. Why couldn't anything be easy?
"Do you take yours with sugar?" he called as he checked the bowl.
He usually snagged a packet or two from the coffee shops and delis when he remembered to, but it looked like he hadn't remembered in too long. Just a few white granules speckling the bottom.
Beth hadn't answered him so he headed back toward the front room.
"I hope you don't need—"
And as he moved, for a second, just a second, he had a vision of her lying on the couch, stripped of her clothing, her white skin stark against the dark fabric, open arms reaching for him as she offered herself in grateful repayment for what she considered an act of unparalleled bravery. After all, if he'd been willing to sacrifice his life for her safety, the least she could do was…
And there she was, lying on the couch…
… limbs akimbo…
… fully dressed…
… sound asleep.
Got to hand it to you, Palmer, he thought. You sure do have a way with women. A real knack for riveting their interest.
And then it hit him that this was perfect. She could sleep here while he started canvassing.
Yes! Like having his cake and eating it too.
He tiptoed into his bedroom and grabbed a pillow and blanket, then returned to the couch where he slipped the former under her head and tucked the latter around her body.
He found a pad and scratched out a note.
Beth —
Had to go down to the paper. If you wake up before I'm back, please don't leave. We have LOTS to talk about! Sandy
He placed the pad where she had to see it, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
"You're safe here," he whispered.
He grabbed the envelope with the printouts, tucked them into his knapsack along with his note pad, pens, and tape recorder—be prepared, as the Boy Scouts say—then eased himself out.
Life hadn't
"I never thought of it that way." She took a deep breath. "I can't believe this, but I think I feel better already. Just seeing you so together after going through the same thing I did makes it easier to handle."
Did that mean she was going to leave? Hello, have a good cry, feel better, then back to the boyfriend? No way.
"Want some coffee? Tea? I've got some good green tea."
"You know," she said with a twist of her lips which, on a day like today, had to suffice for a full-fledged smile, "all of a sudden that sounds good."
He started toward the kitchenette. "How about something to eat? I don't have much but—"
"No. I still can't think of eating. Just some tea would be great."
Good, he thought, because unless you're into chunky peanut butter and stale Ritz crackers, I'm afraid you're out of luck. The cupboard is bare, babe.
"Have a seat on the couch there and I'll start the water boiling."
What do I do now? he asked himself as he filled the kettle.
He'd been planning to start canvassing the Upper West Side with his printout. He'd called in sick at work, telling them he was still too shaken up to make it in. They'd all been understanding, even going so far as to offer him stress counseling, which left him feeling guilty.
But what he needed far more than stress counseling was a big follow-up story.
Then George Meschke himself got on the line and went on about how sales of this week's issue were going through the roof. Lots of the outlets had squawked at first at the double shipments they received, but now they were calling to say thanks—they'd sold out.
So Sandy was the man of the moment down at The Light , but that wasn't going to help him here at home. As much as he needed to find the Savior, he so wanted to make the most of this chance with Beth too. She'd come looking for him , damn it, so he'd be a real jerk to blow her off. Turn her away now and he might never see her again.
Shit. Why couldn't anything be easy?
"Do you take yours with sugar?" he called as he checked the bowl.
He usually snagged a packet or two from the coffee shops and delis when he remembered to, but it looked like he hadn't remembered in too long. Just a few white granules speckling the bottom.
Beth hadn't answered him so he headed back toward the front room.
"I hope you don't need—"
And as he moved, for a second, just a second, he had a vision of her lying on the couch, stripped of her clothing, her white skin stark against the dark fabric, open arms reaching for him as she offered herself in grateful repayment for what she considered an act of unparalleled bravery. After all, if he'd been willing to sacrifice his life for her safety, the least she could do was…
And there she was, lying on the couch…
… limbs akimbo…
… fully dressed…
… sound asleep.
Got to hand it to you, Palmer, he thought. You sure do have a way with women. A real knack for riveting their interest.
And then it hit him that this was perfect. She could sleep here while he started canvassing.
Yes! Like having his cake and eating it too.
He tiptoed into his bedroom and grabbed a pillow and blanket, then returned to the couch where he slipped the former under her head and tucked the latter around her body.
He found a pad and scratched out a note.
Beth —
Had to go down to the paper. If you wake up before I'm back, please don't leave. We have LOTS to talk about! Sandy
He placed the pad where she had to see it, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
"You're safe here," he whispered.
He grabbed the envelope with the printouts, tucked them into his knapsack along with his note pad, pens, and tape recorder—be prepared, as the Boy Scouts say—then eased himself out.
Life hadn't
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