Runner's Moon Trilogy Megabook Series (39 page)

She felt like crap. Every joint and muscle in her body ached, like she was coming down with the flu. Her mouth tasted like Sherman's army had marched through it. And to top off the whole mess, she was going to be late for her eight o'clock class.

"Damndamndamndamndamn."

Slowly Sarah rolled out of bed and plodded to the bathroom, dropping her nightgown somewhere along the way. A hot shower wouldn't hurt. If she was lucky, it might even manage to get her body moving again like a normal human being's.

Rather than blow dry her hair, she twisted it into a knot at the nape of her neck and pinned it down. After applying a touch of makeup, she threw on a pantsuit and hurried out the door, praying she wouldn't meet too many red lights to slow her down.

As she pulled into the faculty parking lot, her gaze automatically went to the spot where the attack had nearly taken place. No, it had taken place. The perp just hadn't been able to finish what he'd started.

In the next instant her mind shifted gears, and she felt her body tense at the thought of Simon. But it was a good tense.

A kind of sexual tense. The kind that got her juices flowing, which surprised the hell out of her. She had never been this aroused by a man, even when she'd gone to bed with one.

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Hungry, yes. But the deed had never played itself out to a satisfactory end the way the experts claimed it could.

She remembered reading that nearly twelve percent of women never experience an orgasm in their lifetimes, and almost seventy-five percent never achieve one during intercourse. God knew she had tried everything in the book to keep herself out of that lowly bracket. But after so many years of trying, and so many failed relationships, she had accepted the sad fact that she was one of those unlucky few.

Still, the way his touch affected her burned in her memory.

Her reaction had been a first for her.

As she hurried toward the sciences building, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and glanced at the little window. 1

new message. Her heart leaped at the possibility, and she dialed in for the voice mail.

"Miss Drumman? This is Officer Tunney with the police department. This is simply a courtesy call to remind you that you need to come in and sign some papers before we can process Mr. Durrow."

Sighing, she punched the number to save the message and shoved the phone back into her purse. She had a four-hour window between this morning's class and the next. She would go over there as soon as she could after she released the students and would give the police what they needed.

The construction crew was already busy at work. She tried not to search through the tangle of men, but she couldn't help herself. Unfortunately she didn't spot him before she entered the building.

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A scant hour later she dismissed her eighteen students and hurried upstairs to check her email before heading over to the police station. She noticed an absence of people standing at the window in the empty office next to hers but didn't think much of it when she entered her office and dropped into her chair.

She was going through her regular mail while waiting for the computer to boot up when Brinna Martinez stuck her head in the door. "Hey! Good morning!"

"Hi, Brin! What's up?"

"Did you hear about a rapist being caught last night?"

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face as she stared back at the secretary. Brin nodded, seeing her paled complexion.

"It's on the news. Some guy tried to rape a woman on campus last night, but the police got him before he could.

They must've beaten the guy up pretty badly. The news says he's at the hospital with two broken legs."

"Do they, uh ... do they know who he attacked?" Sarah asked, feeling the tightening in her chest.

"Yeah, but the police don't release the names of the victims. Rumor says it's probably one of the students on campus."

"A student?"

Brin nodded as she narrowed her eyes. "Yeah. Hey, are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale."

Sarah waved off her concern. "My paper." The simple explanation was enough. Everyone in the sciences building knew about the project Sarah had been working on for the 538

past eight months. They knew about the long hours she put into it, outside of her regular work hours.

"Take it easy, girl. How much longer before you have to present it?"

"Five weeks."

Brin made a face. "Doesn't give you much time, does it?

And with finals coming up pretty soon."

"I'm not worried about finals. I told Rodriguez I wouldn't be able to be on the exam boards this semester because of my project. He gave me the exemption." Thank goodness the Dean of Sciences was willing to cut her some slack because of the paper. She motioned toward the empty office. "Where's the Hunk Herd? Isn't it time for them to be ogling the construction crew?"

"Oh, you didn't hear?" The secretary's eyes widened.

"Someone must've complained about the girls showing a little skin at the guys. Anyway, campus police phoned Mayers and put the kibosh on everything. Too bad. I hear there was one blond guy every girl couldn't wait to get her hands on." Brin looked over her shoulder, then back at Sarah. "I need to go.

Mayers is probably looking for me. You take care of yourself, okay? Yeah, the presentation is coming up, but you're not going to be worth spit if you don't get enough rest, you hear?"

Sarah grinned. "I hear you. Thanks, Brin." She waited for the woman to close the door, then she turned back to her computer. The three or four emails she needed to answer were quickly taken care of. After checking her watch, she grabbed her purse and left for the police station.

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It didn't take as long as she thought it would. They already had her deposition from the night before typed up and waiting for her to read over and sign. She picked out the attacker's mug shot from a page of police photos. A little over an hour later she was free to go.

It was after lunch time, and she had to admit she was famished. A quick check of her cell phone didn't reveal any uncaught calls. Phoning in to her campus voice mail also turned up zilch. Disappointed, she drove back to the university.

Simon, are you or aren't you going to call like you promised?

He won't, and you know full well why not.

If she were smart, she would grab hold of her heart and give it a good one-eighty. When was she going to learn she was not the kind of women good-looking men were interested in? At least not for any kind of permanent relationship.

Her chest felt tight, her skin dry. Her breathing became jerky. Any second now the scalding tears would damn her.

And it would serve her right after getting all giddy over this man's attention. If she was lucky, he was just someone who had helped her out when she most needed it. Nothing else.

And definitely nothing more.

But he did something to her insides. It wasn't so much his looks or the sound of his delicious voice but a combination of things. Like the way he'd held her when she'd finally fallen apart. And the way she'd felt so warm and comforted. And his scent, that pepperminty smell that was refreshing and cleansing, right down to her soul.

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Sarah roughly shook her head as she pulled into the parking lot. Men like Simon Morr used women like her for their sexual gratification. A one-night stand, or perhaps two if she was a good cook who offered a meal in the bargain. Yeah, he was a foreigner, with some foreign-born ideas as to the difference between temporary material and wife material. But it didn't take two long looks to see which category she belonged in. What man wanted to be seen with a dowdy, slightly overweight woman on his arm, when he could have the pick of any litter?

"You wanted his attention to mean something because you've become desperate," she bitterly told herself as she stomped into her office. "You wanted that moment he held you to be the start of something fantastic. A fairy-tale romance, complete with Prince Charming. Well, Prince Charming doesn't exist!"

Her purse hit the wall, bounced off, and landed on the floor with a soft thud and a rattle of keys. She bit her lip to muffle the sobs, but it was useless. Burying her face in her folded arms, Sarah leaned on her desk and cried.

He hadn't told her he was going to call to ask her out. He had said he was going to check on her to see how she was doing. There had been nothing overt or romantic about the way he had behaved toward her. In fact, he had been nothing if not a gentleman in helping her through a traumatic event.

She had no one to blame but herself if she was attempting to make anything more out of it. No one to blame for umpteen years of failed relationships and the unquenchable desire to 541

be loved so fiercely that she became the center of one man's universe.

Just as she wanted to place that one man, that nameless, faceless man, into the center of hers.

Grabbing a tissue out of the box on her desk, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Okay. Square one. He may or may not call. Let's give the good guys a good, wholesome

"if." He calls, wants to know how I'm doing, I say okay good, okay fine, and he ends the conversation with a "Be careful; I'll see you around." kind of quip. Hang up. Finis. Short, simple, and not sweet.

On the bright side, I'll have plenty of time to get my treatise finished.

On the down side, I'm going to have to buy a new vibrator just to get my mind off of Mr. Simon Morr. Well, hell, like that's really going to solve that problem!

She had lunch in the Student Union building. Fortunately her next two classes were in the planetarium. The darkness inside the room helped to hide her red eyes. Once the last class was dismissed, Sarah remained inside, staring up at the array of suns and planets spread across the domed ceiling.

She typed in the dates of the charts into the database, pulling up the files that had initially drawn her into what had quickly developed into a major obsession. Taking one of the aisle seats, she stared up at the anomalies, flipping from one picture to the next with the help of the little remote in her hand.

They were here. She knew it so deep in her gut, it was like the stars were personally trying to point it out to her.

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They were here, which meant they were out there. Out in the big cities, or small towns, or undiscovered no man's lands. And if she couldn't get a photo of one, then she had to use the data the telescopes and computers fed her.

Given a little more time, she realized she would be able to convince anyone of her findings. Heaven knew what had taken her so long to accept the truth for herself. But now that she had the key and the knowledge, everything else fit into place more perfectly than the blocks in the Cheops pyramid.

After turning off the projector and computer, she shut down the room for the night, then headed back to her office.

Her movements were automatic. Her mind remained on Mr.

Simon Morr. And with each individual thought, her body reacted with its own message.

Deny it all you want, Sarah Drumman. You're hot for the man. You're in lust.

"Heaven help me."

So how could a woman who had never had a serious crush in her life suddenly fall like a sack of lead bricks for a man simply because of his looks?

No. She shook her head in denial as she gathered up what papers she wanted to grade and stuffed them into her shoulder bag. No. She hadn't fallen for his looks.

Then what? The sound of his voice? That toe-curling accent that was a little Latin lover and Italian gigolo all rolled into one?

She locked her office door and headed for the elevator.

Nope. Not the voice. It hadn't been the voice.

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Okay. The eyes. Those out-of-this-world eyes. All sky blue with jade pieces shimmering in them. And that smile. Mustn't rule out the smile that could turn any woman into a horny puddle.

Sarah paused outside the doors of the sciences building.

Her gaze swept the poorly lighted sidewalks, and beyond them, the parking lot. The sun had recently set but still spilled pale orange rays across the sky. The coast looked clear, and she headed for her car.

No. It wasn't the eyes or the smile.

Then WHAT?

When her mind clicked, and she remembered his warm hands, and the memory of the all-encompassing sense of caring and protection that had slipped over her, Sarah felt her heart come to a sudden standstill. Hitting the brakes, she pulled off to the side of the road and waited for her internal organs to start working again. Heart, lungs, brain—everything had switched off.

She looked down to see her hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Her body was trembling from the rush of cold that dropped down over her once the blanket was lifted. Simon's blanket. That undeniable infusion of heat and happiness was gone but never forgotten.

That's what had made her fall for him. Fall ... fall in love with him.

"Ohhh, shit. Shit!" she added a second time, hitting the steering wheel in anger for good measure. Having something nearby she could beat up on without fear of retaliation was handy a thing. "Shitshitshitshitshit!"

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Mr. Morr had called to her in the most primal way any man could. His act of chivalry and protection had claimed her as surely as if he had clamped her in chains. Because that was what a knight in shining armor did. He rescued his lady love from all sorts of foul evildoers. He offered his heart and his sword without any regard for his own safety. She had been searching all of her life for the one man who epitomized that unrealistic icon of heroism and ultimate lover, never believing the man would actually walk into her life.

And when he did, Sarah had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.

"Shit!"

Why did life have to be so fucking cruel?

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The tears that poured down her face this time were angry ones. Hot, self-loathing ones. For all she knew, the man was a two-timing narcissist. Then when things went wrong, she could place a healthy chunk of the blame on him.

Or maybe he's a philanderer. Or a bigamist. Or gay! Hell, he worked in a stud-infested field like construction. Why couldn't he have been gay?

Why did he have to reach underneath her wall of self-preservation and plug himself into her heart like an electric blanket—all soft, warm, comforting, and smelling faintly of peppermint?

Whether or not he had done it intentionally, it had happened. And now she was going to need to find a way to cope. Live through it. Something. Construction on the new wing wasn't due to be finished until next year. And there was no way she was going to manage through all those months without running into him again.

Sarah eased her little sedan back onto the roadway and continued homeward. There were a hundred and one things she needed to do. Little errands that screamed for her attention and had been screaming for the past few days. For one, she needed to pick up her dry cleaning. She also needed to go to the supermarket and put something in her refrigerator other than bottled water and a package of bologna.

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She glanced down at the gauges. She also needed to stop for gas, unless she had a secret hankering to start weight training, beginning with pushing her car to the nearest service station. But at the moment nothing mattered but getting back to her apartment where she could soak in a hot tub, read a steamy romance, and maybe work off some of this frustration with her little electric toy.

It was dusk but not dark enough to turn on her headlights.

Still, when she turned the corner and pulled up next to the gate, Sarah was stunned to see the elegant figure casually leaning against the polished black motorcycle. Staring mutely at his impeccably dressed figure as he unfurled himself from where he had been waiting, she was unaware that the gate's security system had recognized her car and begun opening for her to pass through. Simon made a gesture for her to drive in. Nodding slightly, Sarah drove into the complex and around to her parking spot. Simon followed on the big shiny Harley.

There was an uncovered space two spots over from hers.

Visitors were allowed to park in the uncovered spaces, but he already seemed to know that and pulled into it before she had the chance to tell him. She stood near the trunk of her car and continued to watch in mute fascination as he parked the bike and got off. He was dressed in a pair of creased khaki pants and a long-sleeved shirt. A black helmet and a black leather jacket were tied to the rear of the seat. And on top of them was a dark pink tulip. Her eyes got wider.

A tulip?

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Before she could comment, or even give him a hello, Simon grabbed the flower and started to approach her.

Whoa. A flower. The flower was for her.

She couldn't take her eyes off of the sight of the partially opened bud riding in his fingers. No one had ever brought her flowers before, least of all a strange man whom she'd just met. And the ones her father had sent her before he died didn't count.

Sarah raised her eyes to see his nearly turquoise ones staring right at her. Every hope, every wish she had fought and argued against suddenly came back with a vengeance.

He approached her slowly, moving closer and closer until she felt inexorably pulled toward him. His body was a magnet determined to dominate her. Determined to guide her toward that precipice and let her go free-falling toward ... what?

What does it matter if he's right there falling with you?

She had to say something, anything, no matter how bland it sounded. Her panties were getting wetter and her knees shakier with every step he took.

"I thought you were going to call me," she accused in a pissed-off tone of voice. Surprised at herself, Sarah blinked and took one mental step back.

"Forgive me. Although I actually said I would contact you, not call you." Simon stopped less than a yard away and held out the tulip. It was a lovely bud on the verge of opening. The color reminded her of freshly scrubbed lips right after a morning's tooth brushing. Or baby toes. Blushing pink little baby toes.

"What makes you smile, Sarah?"

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Her head jerked up at his question. "Huh?"

Chuckling in that deep, dark way he had that turned her insides gooey, he held out the flower for her to take. "I'm not familiar with your dating customs here. So if I do something wrong, please don't take it personally. In fact, you would be doing me a favor by correcting me." Giving the tulip a little shake, he mutely urged her to take it. "I was told you might like this. I hope the smile is a result of it."

Not familiar with the dating customs?

Well, crap, Sarah. He's not from around here, remember?

For that blunder you just earned yourself a place in the Idiots'

Hall of Shame.

She reached out to take the flower from his fingers. His hand shifted, taking hers as she accepted the bud.

Warmth poured like a deluge from his body into hers. It shot through her arm and went straight to her heart and lungs, until every breath she took afterward sent contentment and joy rushing through every vein.

Her fingers involuntarily clutched his hand as these unexpected feelings closed around her. She heard a gasp, then realized it had come from her. A moment later Simon was standing so close to her she could feel the heat of his body through his clothes. He continued to hold her one hand, but his other one was now resting along her neck. She raised her eyes to find him searching her face.

"Are you all right? You went pale." The tender concern was nearly her undoing.

"I'm ... I'm..." Oh, damn, she couldn't think straight! She could barely breathe, but when she did the air was infused 549

with that light, minty aroma. Heaven help her, but the man was intoxicating!

"Let's get you inside before you faint," he murmured and slipped an arm around her waist. The gesture pressed her hip against his, and she could feel the rhythmic flow of his thigh muscles. At that point she completely turned into gelatin.

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing. Sarah found a place to nestle her face between his neck and the collar of his shirt, a patch of skin she could nuzzle without guilt. Her head felt woozy, her body weightless. She was trapped in a place between reality and dreams, where Simon epitomized every fantasy lover her imagination had ever created.

But he was totally unlike the faceless men who swooped down over her and roused her into a state of extreme sexual agitation. His voice didn't purr from a set of double A batteries. He was real. She was hopelessly in love with him.

And now there appeared to be the faint, faint hope he might fall in love with her.

"Please, God. Please."

"What?" He turned his head slightly. The side of his face pressed into her hair. Sarah could swear he held her more tightly.

"Three-oh-nine. Apartment three-oh-nine." She felt her lips touch that warm, fragrant skin, and instantly a memory of snowy nights and mugs of steaming hot chocolate stirred with little peppermint sticks came to her.

This really wasn't happening to her. But in case it was, she never wanted it to end. Just let me die right now. Let this 550

moment be the last conscious thing on my mind. This last beautiful memory.

"Where are the keys?"

Keys? Incredibly, they were in her other hand. Keys in right, baby-toes tulip in her left. Sarah felt him slowly release her legs and lower her feet to the ground, then pluck the key ring from her numb fingers. Once the door was opened, he lifted her back up and carried her across the threshold like a groom with his new bride. Now that's a thought, Sarah mused as she caught herself smiling.

But instead of carrying her to the bedroom, Simon lowered her onto the couch. Sarah reluctantly let her arms slide into her lap.

"How do you feel? Better?"

She blinked up at him as he checked her over.

"You could do with a glass of water," he announced, turning on his heel and striding into the kitchen. She could hear him opening and closing cabinet doors in his search for a glass. She was about to direct him to where the tumblers were located when she heard the distinctive clink of glassware. Before she could think, she caught the sound of him opening her refrigerator door. She was biting her lower lip when he re-entered the living room with her water.

"Thank you," she said, taking the glass from him. She was aware of him watching her like a hawk as she drank down the cold liquid. He was right. The water chased away the wooziness and cleared her head.

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"It's been a rough couple of days," he said softly. He remained standing in front of her instead of sitting down on the couch next to her. Sarah frowned to herself.

"Yeah. Yeah, it has. Look, I'm sorry about my, uh ... I mean, I didn't mean to sound so grouchy back there." She suddenly remembered what he'd said earlier. "A date? With me?"

Perching his hands on his hips, Simon laughed heartily.

The deep, robust sound was as mind-boggling as his smile, she realized. "Why not a date with you?"

"But..."

"But what? Don't tell me you've never been on a date before."

He was teasing her. Playing little word games with her. Yet there was nothing demeaning or hurtful about his actions.

Another switch in her brain flipped on, and Sarah understood the man was completely at ease with her. She watched as he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.

"There's that smile again. Your smile is very beautiful, do you know that?" he said.

No, she didn't. In fact, no one else had ever told her that.

Well, thank him, you goofball! A little voice nudged.

"Thank you. And to answer your earlier question, I've been on very few dates," she admitted truthfully. "My career and my schooling sort of kept me out of the dating pool." Waving a hand in front of her face, Sarah tried to refocus on the reason why he was standing in the middle of her living room.

"Where were you wanting to go? To take me?"

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Her question seemed to surprise him, which also surprised her. Surely the man had a destination in mind. Or at least an idea of where he wanted to take her.

"To be honest, Sarah, I had planned to take you to a nice restaurant. Then maybe take in a late viewing of a movie somewhere. But I might have a better idea now."

Better? Better than dinner and a movie? She waited to hear the rest of it.

Two strong hands reached out and clasped hers, pulling her off the couch and onto her feet. It took nearly everything in her not to take that last step that would place her against his body, or to wrap her arms around his neck and draw his face down so she could kiss him. He was from another country, she kept telling herself over and over. He might not like it if she took the initiative. Her attentions might appear overt or pushy.

No. She had to play it coy. Let him lead. Let him be the gallant knight. The chivalrous gentleman. In fact, she might just enjoy the hell out of having all his attention to herself.

"I noticed your cold box is empty. Let's go to the supermarket for a few things, and let me cook you a meal reminiscent of my home w ... country." He gave her hands a little shake and turned on that solar flare smile. "Let me entertain you tonight. Will that be acceptable?"

Let me entertain you? Sarah felt her heart nearly lock into position. Cook for me?

Oh, sweet Jesus, woman! Do you know what this could mean? Do you know where this could possibly lead? With him 553

here in the apartment until the late hours of the night, there was the possibility he would remain the entire night.

All night.

And that didn't mean with her in her bed and him here on the sofa. Nope. No way in hell.

"Okay," she finally managed, the breath she had been holding gushing out of her. Smiling again, she added a nod for good measure. "I've never had a man cook for me. It sounds like fun."

"We'll need to take your car."

"That's fine! I need to stop for gas on the way, though. I'm riding on fumes."

The comment seemed to puzzle him, but she blew it off as another one of those terms he was unfamiliar with. After all, with his accent as thick as it was, it was obvious he hadn't been in this country long enough to lose it.

"Never mind. Do you want to drive?" Coy. That was the word of the day. Coy. Wait for him to open all the doors. Let him lead and guide and drive and do all that macho stuff men preened themselves to do for their lady friends. Who knows?

She might discover she preferred to be coddled like a prized pet.

Nodding, Simon took her half-empty glass and placed it on the corner table at the end of the sofa. While he held the front door open for her, Sarah dropped the baby-toes tulip into the glass to keep it fresh and left the apartment.

She felt like singing for joy the way people did in those old musicals. At least her actions would match the humming 554

already singing through her body as she anticipated what the night might bring.

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