The Pleasures of Winter (26 page)
She glanced at her wristwatch. It was almost 10pm. She would have an early start to get back to the city on time and god knew when Jack had to leave. She had no intention of sitting through a movie.
In a wriggling manoeuvre, she slid across his lap until she straddled him. She couldn’t resist running her hands across his shoulders. So broad and solid. All that power beneath her hands was intoxicating, but his stillness was unnerving. Jack laid his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. At least he hadn’t rebuffed her attentions. She nipped along his jaw where the skin was thin and sensitive.
He didn’t react. What was going on?
Abbie opened one button on his shirt, and then another, tracing a path with her tongue on his bare skin until her mouth closed over his nipple and his eyes jerked open. Ah, a reaction.
Jack picked up the remote control and switched off the TV. ‘It looks like you have an evil plan to seduce me.’ The words were encouraging, but he sounded strangely distant.
She tried to infuse a hint of devilment into her voice. ‘You have no idea.’ What was up with him tonight? His passive behaviour was so at odds with the way he was usually.
He ruffled her hair. ‘Let’s go to bed, then.’
They climbed the stairs together but without touching. Jack switched on the bedside lamp and unbuttoned his shirt. Abbie stared at him. His stomach rippled and flexed with every breath, and the muscles on his chest and arms were sharply defined. His body never failed to amaze her, nor the amount of time it took to keep it that way.
She waited for him to take command, to order her to undress, but nothing happened. She cleaned off her make-up, stripped off her dress and climbed into bed beside him.
Jack rolled over and kissed her with breathtaking intensity. Ah, this she knew. She relaxed against him, trusting him with her body. He stroked and caressed her until she was helplessly squirming against him, wordlessly begging for more. He kissed his way down her body, tasting and nibbling until she moaned and begged. He watched her every reaction, varying his attentions from tender to rough, utterly focused on bringing her pleasure. But there was something missing.
His first hard thrust inside her almost brought her to orgasm. She clung on to his shoulders as he rode her with merciless intent. Abbie clawed at his back, thrashing wildly beneath him until her entire being turned into one rushing torrent of sensation and she came.
When she opened her eyes again, Jack was staring at her.
Her stomach flipped. Something was terribly wrong. Maybe this was break-up sex, if there was such a thing. ‘Please tell me that you’re not breaking up with me.’
He pressed a damp kiss on her forehead and smiled. ‘Never.’
She lay against him in silence until the helicopter came
to collect her. She expected, in spite of the noise, to sleep all the way home. It had been a long day, she’d had amazing sex and had to work in a few hours. Instead, she spent the journey staring out into the night, battling an inexplicable sense of unease.
Abbie spent the day in turmoil, unable to make sense of what had happened the night before. She knew that their relationship had changed, but she wasn’t sure whether she liked it. She tried Kit’s cell, but then remembered that Kit was on one of her New Age retreats and out of contact except for emergencies. There was no one else she could talk to. Except Jack. She would just have to wait till ten.
By the time she logged on, she felt wrung out and almost past caring.
Wild orchid is typing.
He had finally opened up to her. She felt closer to him now than she had the previous night when he was making love to her. Jack wasn’t trying to break up with her, he had been trying to show her the difference between D/s and vanilla, and now she knew it was no longer her favourite flavour.
She felt absurdly happy that he was laughing. She felt like she’d been run over by a truck but it was OK now. Everything was going to be all right.
Michael Delaney is typing.
Abbie wasn’t sure what woke her. She’d been working flat out for the last week since her vanilla date with Jack, and the clock on the side table said 3.15am. She should be asleep. She lay awake, listening. The noise came again. It sounded like drawers being pulled out.
For a moment, terror froze her muscles, then she forced herself into action. How had she not heard them get in? She must have forgotten to bolt the front door. Jack would kill her, if they didn’t get to her first. She slid out of bed and made her way quietly to the bedroom door. The noise came from the kitchen this time. She could hear the sound of the refrigerator being opened and closed.
OK
,
calm down, they’re outside and you have a lock on the door
. Her father had insisted on it after the last time she’d had a break-in. She turned the key and slid the deadbolt into place.
She had to call the police. Abbie patted the floor beside the bed, searching. She’d been rereading the texts from Jack on her personal phone before she fell asleep; it must be here somewhere. She didn’t dare to turn on a light. Her phone beeped as it came to life and she smothered the sound against her chest and tried not to breathe. She heard the sound of glass breaking and a male voice cursing.
With shaking fingers, she dialled 911.
‘Emergency Services, how can we help you?’
‘There’s someone in my apartment,’ she whispered down the phone.
‘Ma’am, can you speak up?’
Abbie crawled along the floor until she had reached the furthest spot from the bedroom door. ‘There is someone in my apartment. Please come.’
She could barely keep the fear out of her voice.
‘Ma’am, you need to give me your name and address and I’ll send a car. Where are you now?’
‘In my bedroom. I’ve locked myself in,’ Abbie whispered. She rattled off her name and address.
Another crash came from outside. Louder this time. They would hardly expect her to sleep through that. ‘Please hurry.’
The operator stayed on the line, trying to soothe her. ‘Ma’am, just hang on there, there’s a car in the area, someone will be with you shortly.’
Abbie waited for what seemed like for ever, keeping her eyes firmly on the locked door, watching the doorknob turn first in one direction and then the other. Outside, she heard the blare of a police siren. The doorknob twisted again. Then, she heard a loud thump and the sound of raised voices.
‘Cops coming,’ a gruff voice muttered and Abbie heard a door slamming. Her first instinct was to open the door, but what if they were still there? What if they were just pretending? She sat on the floor, hugging herself, trying to stop shaking.
‘Ma’am, are you still there, ma’am?’
Abbie pulled the phone to her ear. ‘Yes, I –’
‘The officers are in your building, ma’am. Just hold on.’
‘Thanks. Thank you for staying on the line.’
‘You’re welcome, ma’am.’ The call disconnected.
Abbie jumped when a loud rap came on the bedroom door. ‘Ms Marshall? This is the New York Police Department.’
Afterwards was a nightmare. Her apartment had been torn apart. She couldn’t tell what had been taken. Her computer disks were spread around the floor, her cushions had been ripped apart and all her books had been tossed around, pages torn and their spines broken.
One of the cops picked up an antique silver frame. ‘Well, they weren’t looking for valuables. Can you tell if anything is missing, ma’am?’
She scanned the shelves again. Two portable disk drives were gone, but her precious laptop was still in the bedroom. Some photographs from Honduras were trampled into the rug, alongside a torn orchid. The broken glass from the frame glittered on the petals of the flower.
Bile rose in her throat. It was the same people, it had to be, and now they knew where she lived. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. She had to tell the police.
She watched the officer’s face as she talked and what he thought was a routine burglary turned into something far more sinister.
‘Ma’am, have you someone you can call? A friend, maybe?’
‘Yes, I’ll grab a few things. I don’t want to stay here.’
She called Kit, glad to hear a friendly voice on the other end of the line. Kit told her to come over immediately. She packed an overnight bag and wondered if she could
put off calling Jack until the morning. She could just imagine the dire punishment that awaited her if she did. No, it had to be done. She took a breath and pressed his number on the phone, praying that he was still awake.
‘I’ve had a break-in,’ she said quickly when he answered. ‘The police are here.’
‘What? Are you OK?’
She looked around at the mess. ‘The cleaner won’t like it but I’m fine. I can’t talk for long.’
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No. I locked myself in the bedroom.’
‘Get out of there. I warned you about taking chances.’ God, he was turning into a Neanderthal again. Curiously, it made her feel better.
‘I wasn’t planning to stay here tonight. Jack, I think it was connected with the story about Honduras.’
‘Honduras?’
‘Well, it’s the only news story I’m still working on. They’re hardly concerned about my crimes against fashion.’
She heard a snort on the other end of the line. He was definitely going to put her over his knee for that remark.
‘Abbie, I’m not joking. You are to take all necessary precautions. Or I’ll do it for you.’
She hugged her coat around her. ‘I’m going. I’ll stay with Kit for a few days. I’ll let you know when I arrive.’
‘If you do anything stupid, you are going to make the acquaintance of every single implement in my playroom. You will be typing standing up for a month.’
He sounded as if he really meant it. ‘I’ll be fine. I just wanted to hear your voice. I’ll call you when I get to Kit’s.’
‘Text me when you leave your apartment, and when you get to Kit’s. And don’t go anywhere on your own.’
She ran downstairs to get her cab, feeling strangely reassured.
Jack was playing pool when the phone rang. Worrying about Abbie had been driving him crazy all day, even through his call-back audition for
The African Queen
. He had to let off some steam. He was in his favourite bar which, despite Californian anti-smoking laws, always seemed to be dim and smoky, even in the late afternoon. He was dressed in a baggy lumberjack shirt and wire-rimmed glasses, with his hair brushed over his face. If a tourist managed to find his way here, he’d be hard-pressed to recognize Hollywood heart-throb Jack Winter.
Most of the patrons here were bikers, truckers or farm workers. It was a hang-out for locals. When Jack asked people to call him Michael, no one blinked. The beer was good, the women were friendly and the nachos were spicy.
There was twenty dollars on the table, and Jack had lined up a tricky cross shot. He cursed the phone, but didn’t think of ignoring it. Only a handful of people had this number. He checked the display, hoping it was Abbie, but Kev’s ID glowed on the screen. Reluctantly, he answered it.
‘About time, you bastard,’ Kev snarled. ‘Where the hell do you get off, busting up my date and then ignoring my calls?’
‘Sorry, Kev, I wasn’t ignoring you. I just had my phone
switched off.’ In this bar, he couldn’t mention the
African Queen
audition.
‘And did you have your brain switched off when you crashed my date with Abbie?’
Jack shoved his hand through his hair, not caring that it might make him easier to recognize. ‘Yeah, about that –’
‘Don’t try to weasel out of it.’ Kevin’s annoyance came clearly through the phone. ‘You might have had a thing with her in Honduras, but you told me it was all over. So, what the hell were you doing coming on like a caveman?’
‘Change of plan, Kev. It’s not over. I know, I should have told you.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Have you seen her? How is she with all this shit?’
‘Abbie’s fine. She’s living with her friend the Crazy Cornrow Girl in an apartment in the Village that looks like something off the Psychic channel. I mean, she has dreamcatchers in the kitchen. How long is she planning to stay there?’