The Admirer's Secret (14 page)

Chapter 29

T
he throaty grumbling grew into predatory snarling. Haley blindly backed up, slowly increasing the distance between predator and prey. The animal stepped forward, matching her steady pace. The last step put the animal directly into a patch of pale moonlight that had managed to glide through the branches of coniferous overhang. Fear-invoked tunnel vision permitted Haley to see nothing but sharp white fangs glistening with slobber at the end of a scrunched nose. The animal’s large eyes feasted on her, and though the animal’s coat was long and thick, Haley imagined the hair was standing straight up on its back. The animal crouched in attack mode and no “here, doggy, doggy” was going to work on this beast.

Her mind fast-forwarded to the scene where her lifeless body was being ravaged and torn apart by long canine teeth. And she
imagined her own vain attempts at stopping it. Haley’s mind raced for another solution. Was it dogs or bears that would eventually leave if one stood perfectly still? Or was that a mountain lion? Or was she supposed to lie down and play dead? If only she had paid attention to her dad’s lectures on outdoor survival fifteen years ago! But she had considered it pointless, useless Boy Scout knowledge, letting it slip in one ear and out the other.

Regardless of what it was
, she had to increase the distance between her and this hungry animal, because it was inching closer. And one thing she did remember: many animals traveled in packs. Where there was one, there would probably be more. So she needed to take action now. Or never. She could either stand perfectly still and pray that the animal would miraculously lose interest, or take off and hope she could outrun it. She chose the latter.

Forgetting all wilderness survival tips she might have accumulated over the years, she didn’t look back to see if the dog was tailing her. By the time she reached her car, she was exhausted and out of breath. Adrenaline delivered the one last ounce of energy she needed to thrust her car door open, jump in, and slam the door shut, enclosing her in the sanctuary of her vehicle. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest while sucking in gulps of air. Those carnivorous fangs flashed through her head; the past few seconds replayed in her imagination, only her menacing mind unfolded an alternate ending: the animal attacked and enjoyed a meal from her meaty limbs. Quickly popping her eyes open, she willed the thoughts away.

“I’m safe. I’m in one piece. Everything is okay now,” she whispered hoarsely. She checked her door locks anyhow, not that the animal would know how to use a door handle. Though she did once hear of someone’s dog who opened a refrigerator door with ease. Her car doors were locked in case this happened to be one of those animal prodigies.

Everything in her body felt numb as she fumbled to collect herself. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t think, only breathe labored gasps of stale air that had a thickness from being retained in her car. When she talked herself down from near panic, she realized her fingers still clutched her camera. She was surprised, and thankful, that she hadn’t dropped it mid-flight. She tucked it back into its holder and placed it on the passenger seat beside her. She hadn’t taken all the pictures she wanted, but it was time to get away from here. She’d come back another day
to finish.

Once her heart rate felt like it had returned to as close to normal as possible after a near-death incident, she was stricken with one glaring concern: Marc was waiting for her.

Then another thought. What if?

And another. What if the animal had attacked first? What if she had tripped up during her flight and gotten mauled? It wasn’t her mom or
Hollywood or Allen that she thought of; she thought of Marc. Nothing else mattered except him.

The tears finally came, and her body shook with each powerful outburst. She let the salty droplets stream down her cheeks, not caring about the passing traffic, ignoring the cold biting at her toes. She let the emotions boil over until her tear ducts ran dry.

When the last salty droplet was wiped from her blood-hot cheek, she promised herself that tonight Marc would know the depth of her feelings for him. Her hands still trembled as she peeled away from the curb.

Chapter 30

A
s Marc waited beneath the awning of her covered front porch, he breathed a mixed sigh of relief when he saw several lights burning brightly in stark contrast to the pitch-black winter night. He paced a moment, then stepped up to the plate—really the welcome mat—and knocked. The front door immediately creaked open before he had a chance to step back.

A beautiful woman greeted Marc with a flustered “hey!” She used her body to block out the cold air. “You’re late, mister.”

“I was here a little earlier and thought maybe you were going to cancel on me.”

Her knowing grin implied that she had already figured that.

“I would never do that, Marc! Long story, though. Pretty crazy stuff. I’ll tell you later.” Looking him over, she continued, “So are you prepping yourself for the Ice Festival by standing out here?”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? This isn’t cold; it’s refreshing.” A shiver gave away his fib.

“Come in out of the cold while I grab my coat.”

“I thought you’d never ask!” He followed her into the house and stood by the door with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“You call this refreshing? You must have polar bear blood in you if you think this is comfortable.” Her coy open-mouthed grin egged Marc on.

“I suppose I do. Y’know, while I was waiting outside for you, I was wondering why you weren’t here. Then I figured you’d never stand up a prize like me.” He smothered the words with mock sarcasm, then snuck a saucy wink.

She cocked her head and squinted as her eyes ran up and down his body. “I don’t know about a
prize
, but you are definitely
something
.” The game was on, and this woman could dish it out just as much as she could take it.

“Boy, you go for the throat, don’t you? Won’t even spare a man his dignity…” he pretended to grumble.

“I guess that’s the humanitarian side of me. Well, I’m all set, so let me get my things and we can head out.”

“Wow, I was expecting at least an hour for you to get ready while I waited.”

“Ah, you think you know all about women! Well, be prepared to be shocked. I’m not your typical girl. Though you—you’re starting to sound more typical by the minute, Marc!” She laughed that genuine kind of laugh, the kind that eases all one’s nerves and one can’t help but join in. Something about her made him feel different, like he was in a dream, but also rooted in reality.

She was incredible, and at times he was afraid that he’d wake up and realize she was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Just being in her presence was enough for him to want to be a better man. Not that he felt the need to please or impress her, because he had a feeling she could see through men’s fake attempts at charming her. And he guessed that many men tried. No, it was more than that.
She brought out the life in him, the electric energy that only love could produce.

“Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” His impromptu comment left a sweet silence between them. They stood at the front door quietly enjoying being with each other. It wasn’t a flashy or poetic moment, but it contained its own simple perfection in its honesty.

“No, you didn’t, but feel free to tell me as much as you want.” She smiled a flirty, pouty smile—a pursed-lip smile that a woman uses to reel a man in, but still keep him at bay. Everything inside him wanted to grab her waist and draw her closer for a kiss. Those soft pink lips were so tempting, so inviting, yet also so lethal to his ego, especially if she objected and pulled away. He decided to start with handholding and see where it went from there.

A tinge of electricity shot through him as she brushed up against him on her way to the closet to retrieve her coat. He wondered if it was intentional or incidental; either way, it warmed him faster than hot coals and remained
with him long after they entered the cold night air.

“Let me help you with that,” Marc insisted.

He took the coat from her and guided her around, holding her narrow shoulders while he did so. Any physical contact with her was a rush, even if it was over the clothes and on the shoulders. As he helped her with her black wool coat, he relished the way her eyes traveled over him. The whole time he had been there, her eyes were glued to him and his to her. And that was when he knew—he’d make his move tonight, when the time was right.

It was a cold night—a perfect night for the festival. The sky was clear with a thousand stars dazzling in the blackness. The moon shone bright, illuminating the streets and casting pale light through bare tree branches. He couldn’t imagine a more ideal night.

When they arrived at Lake Chautauqua, Marc found a parking spot close to the massive bonfire where a throng of people stood huddling for warmth. Marc enjoyed the distinctive scent of burnt wood as they approached and then joined the crowd. Smoke billowed up into the night while radiation from the orange flames blanketed the surrounding observers with the fierce heat. The blend of too hot and too cold had many of the bystanders turning around in circles, as if they were on a rotisserie, warming each body part in turn. This panorama of young children roasting—and catching fire to—marshmallows, elderly couples holding wrinkled hands, dads piggybacking their kids, and teens clumped together pointing out objects of affection was what life was about.

“I was really looking forward to tonight,” a soft voice commented, breaking the relaxed hush. Her breath visibly moistened the air. Marc turned to his date and nodded. It was remarkable that already they had felt so content in the lulls between chatting.

“Me too. There’s nothing quite like it, huh?”

“You’ve got that right. Hey, do you want to check out the ice castle?”

“I’d love to.”

As they made their way through the crowd, Marc impulsively grabbed her hand and led the way. He waited to see if she’d pull away, but she didn’t. Her gloved hands were so small compared to his, and he loved the way it felt to show the world that he was with this striking woman. She stepped a beat behind, though connected by their hands, until they arrived where the iced-over lake met the sandy beach. About twenty feet from the frozen shoreline, constructed on the beach, was a large, glistening castle made purely of ice. Every color imaginable glowed behind the blocks of ice, giving the setting a dreamlike effect. Sculptures of angels blowing trumpets surrounded the castle, and ice benches were positioned around the castle for those who wanted to sit
—not minding an icy rear end in the process—and absorb the fantasy of it.

The duo entered the castle to examine the detail up close. She found a private room around one of the corners and led him to a centerpiece that stood in the middle of it. It was a fountain made of ice, and the water spouting out of it was frozen in time. Detailed etching rounded the base of the fountain, and she ran her hand over the sculpture.

Marc was delighted when she took his hand and placed it beneath her own so he could feel the texture of the patterns through his gloves. His body was so close to hers that he felt warmth emanate from her body. It was all he could do to stop himself from kissing her right then and there. They stood in silence, his arms around her, her hand cradling his. She shifted a little, allowing her back to press firmly against his chest. 

“Isn’t this sp
ectacular? That someone could craft such ornate work on blocks of ice?”

“Yeah, amazing,” he answered mechanically; his mind was on something else.

“Do you know how they sculpt this stuff?” She turned her face and looked at him. He blinked back. “Earth to Marc.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry,” he shook his brain back to the conversation, “they actually cut the blocks of ice out of this lake using chainsaws and logging tools. Then ice sculptors use smaller chainsaws to carve the artistic details. Because some layers of the ice freeze translucent and other parts transparent, that gives the ice a striped effect when they stack them to make the castle walls.”

“That’s interesting. I was afraid this winter would be too warm for the lake to freeze.”

“
Lake Chautauqua always has a knack of getting cold enough to keep the Ice Festival thriving,” he laughed. “It’s times like these that I’m glad we get this kind of weather. Otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here enjoying this time together.”

“Very true,” she whispered.

He gently lifted her hand to his cheek, brushed it against his day-old stubble, and intertwined his fingers in hers. They were alone. It was the perfect moment. Keeping their fingers wrapped together, his arms gently pulled her around to face him. She obliged, and he swallowed his anticipation. With a deep inhale, the ice-cold air cleared any trace of bad breath, a backup for leaving his gum in the car. Just as he leaned in for the kiss, a small child squealed from behind him, apparently in the middle of a game of tag with her older sister. Marc pulled back and smiled at the sudden disruption, and she reciprocated with a giggle.

“I’m starving. Wanna get some food?” she suggested.

“Definitely. Let’s go.”

He guided her out of the ice castle and into the bustling crowds. Several food vendors lined the street serving a variety of ethnic foods ranging from hot sausage to halushki, and even deep-fried fish sandwiches for the more conservative eater. As they strolled down the line of makeshift outdoor restaurants, each picked their favorite festival dish, then they headed to a private bench situated on the outskirts of the bonfire.

Marc watched as she ate her gyro with extra cucumber sauce. Her face was highlighted in some parts and shadowed in others by the fire’s bright glow. Barely touching his hot sausage sandwich, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When he did finally sink his teeth into the seasoned meat, he realized it probably wasn’t the best meal to eat before initiating a first kiss.

He shoved the sandwich down and noticed her empty plate; she definitely wasn’t shy about licking it clean. Another endearing quality—a girl who didn’t pick at her food. Taking both of their
paper plates, he tossed everything into the flames. Crackling wood sent hot ashes into the air, like magma spouting from a ruptured volcano. The warmth on his face and chest felt such a contrast to the crisp air against his back.

Marc reached over and held her hand as they sat staring into the
ravenous flames. The atmosphere and quiescence was so comfortable, and he couldn’t imagine enjoying it like this with anyone else. He wanted to capture it and bottle it so that he could feel this way over and over.

As she leaned into him, he put his arm around her and held her close, so close that he could hear the faint sound of her breath going in and out, in and out. His body followed as his chest rose slightly, and in no time his own breathing was in sync with hers. They sat there in the silence, feeling the curves of one another’s shoulders and arms circling around each other. She fit so completely in his embrace, like she was created to be next to him. For the longest time, neither seemed to move for fear of
interrupting their wonderful moment.

When she at last turned her body around to face him, she reached over to hug him, a seemingly typical friendly hug, but as she pulled away, she didn’t pull all the way away. She
lingered close, like she was leaning in a little. A tingling sensation ran up his back in nervous anticipation of the passion that intensified with each moment.

Slowly Marc placed his hands on both sides of her face, tipped her chin up, and
dipped his lips toward hers. Closing his eyes, he felt her soft lips touch his, and it was as if everything stood still for that single kiss. No longer was the air freezing his toes and fingertips, as warmth spread throughout his entire body, enveloping his senses. His hands traveled down her neck and settled on the small of her back, gently pulling her closer. Their lips moved together, their tongues danced in unison, tasting one another’s sweet flesh. 

They kissed right through the background noise of laughing children and chatting bystanders. It wasn’t a passionate, face-gorging kiss. They were in a G-rated family environment, after all, which kept Marc’s hormones in check. But it was enough of a kiss to confirm that she felt for him what he felt for her. It was the sweet pure kiss that meant so much more to him. It was the kiss you share with someone you love, not
just someone you lust.

He pulled away, and as their lips parted, she re-opened her eyes, meeting his. He brought his hands to her face and held it. Tracing her curved
jawline with his fingertip, he kissed her once more, this time on the tip of her nose. He rested his forehead against hers, all the while keeping her gaze. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive, so invigorated. It wasn’t animalistic appetite, or meaningless infatuation. It was much deeper than anything he had ever experienced with a woman.

Marc pulled her
into a tight embrace, as if he was afraid to let her go. The romantic prelude urged him to speak the words of his heart, but after knowing her so briefly, he didn’t want to send her running with any premature confessions. Marc held her for several moments in silence, until finally shattering it with a whisper so soft he could barely hear it. Her ear brushed against his mouth as he spoke.

“You know, these times we’re sharing have been some of the most wonderful moments I’v
e had in a long time…” Marc was afraid to say more, but the words found their way past his lips. “I don’t ever want to stop making memories with you.”