Victoria (11 page)

"Where are we going?” Chappa still tried to recover from the blow.

"You're going to the grave, my man. My needs have changed.” Chappa felt a sharp pain to the back of his head right before he passed out.

The music blared, and everyone was having a good time.

Victoria had remained outside in the parking lot for a good fifteen minutes until someone recognized her. Her brother's friend, Jerry, a police officer, walked her inside from the parking lot. There was no turning back now.

It was obvious everyone recognized her immediately when she entered through the front door. She smiled politely, but her heart pounded out of control. Her body shook and she scanned the room for Steven. Their gazes met simultaneously and both of them froze where they were. Her hand instinctively covered her mouth in shock, and the tears burned her eyes. The strength she got from her pep talk earlier just disintegrated, in one ‘poof'—it was gone.

He was more handsome than she recalled, taller, sexier, and in exquisite physical condition. She could feel herself blush, her heart race, her mouth became dry. Damn it, she never loved anyone more.

Swallowing hard, she stood in one place, unable to move any further. Steven closed the distance between them.

Steven watched her as she entered the room, and his heart paused a moment, then the pounding started again, just like yesterday when he saw her outside her office. She was gorgeous, and he noticed the way others stopped to check her out as he made his way to her. He had been through a war for Christ's sake, and yet, nothing compared to the trepidation, the anxiety he feared at this moment. It was powerful, emotional, and he hoped not disastrous.

He couldn't help himself as his gaze traveled over her body. His body instantly and naturally responded. Missing her, he needed to feel her body against his own. He needed to touch her, to feel her, and love her once again.

She wore a fitted pair of Capri pants, light beige that accentuated her curvy figure and an expensive looking blouse that hid a tight-fitted tank top, beaded along the trim. His gaze roamed over the slight cleavage, then toward the gold heart locket around her neck. It was from her father for her sixteenth birthday.

Pausing in front of her, all he wanted to do was embrace her, kiss her breathless, and be completely alone with the woman he never stopped loving. Only, twisted within those emotions was a feeling of unfamiliarity. Had time made them strangers?

It seemed like forever and when he stood so tall and amazingly irresistible in front of her, the electricity between them was enormous. She couldn't force herself to hate him. Victoria couldn't breathe just from the sight of him. He was real. He was alive. She swallowed hard.

She begged her mind and body to stick to the plan, to hate him, to resist him with all her might.

Her plan failed as he reached for her. The feel of each solid hand against her body punctured through the material of her blouse, directly to her skin. His arms drew her into an embrace and she lost it.

All she could do was hold him and cry ... just hold him and cry.

She didn't know how long they embraced, just that she'd missed him and had felt dead inside until this very moment. She sobbed uncontrollably, releasing all the fear, anxiety, and heartache that had filled every inch of her body, heart, mind, and soul. In one embrace, it all released. She felt it move through her body right down to her toes and out.

This man had the power to heal her, to touch her in ways no other human being, action or miracle, could ever touch her. He would always possess her heart.

Steven caressed her hair, holding her compressed against his body. It seemed like they merged as one.

"Tory, sweetheart, I've missed you so much; you're so beautiful. My God, you're gorgeous.” He looked into her eyes and embraced her again.

"I can't believe it's you. You're alive,” was all she could say as others gathered around them, obviously making celebratory comments, overjoyed at their reunion, more than aware of the love between them.

Steven's father approached, and Victoria wiped her eyes while Steven held her gently around the waist.

The three of them embraced and the crowd cheered.

"Get over here, you two. This is a real celebration and time for a few words,” Steven's father, Jerry, said. Then someone passed Victoria a mug of beer and one to Steven.

"Hey, hey, hey, everybody. I've got a few words to say!” Jerry yelled, and the sound of hushes flowed over the crowd of people. Victoria dried her eyes best she could, then took a few steps away from Steven, letting go of his hand.

They exchanged glances as Jerry talked about his son, the Marine, and how proud he was and how grateful he was that Steven was alive. Steven looked at her as if he could sense her fear and reservations. If anyone could destroy her masquerade ... it would be Steven.

"Welcome home, Steven!” Jerry shouted. Then others joined in as they cheered and the music started playing again.

Stories and conversations continued through the night along with an uplifting spirit that seemed to extinguish the fact a cop killer remained at large.

Worries the new information about her father's connection to Linda Delaney would come to life, she couldn't help celebrate her lover's return.

Her lover. Glancing toward Steven, watching him smile and linger in the crowd with family and friends was just too much to handle. Pretending that everything was fine, that they could fall right back into a relationship was exhausting. All these people standing around her, celebrating Steven's return, drinking their beer, their cocktails, and talking about law enforcement, the military and the war, politics and River Point was overwhelming.

Did they all forget about her father's murder? Would they even care if their local politicians and perhaps board members cheated them?

Glancing around the room as women pined over Steven, took every chance to caress his muscular arm, give him a welcome home hug, or blush from his natural sex appeal was taking too much effort to care. Years ago, moments like that would have made her possessiveness emerge. She'd grab his arm, kiss his cheek, and cuddle next to him as others looked on in admiration.

Not now—not ever again. There was a killer loose, there was work needing done that mattered and when Steven chose the war over her, new priorities were set.

Vowing that anything she wanted for herself was unobtainable until her father's killer was behind bars, she quietly and discretely left the building.

She made her way outside where it was less noisy and breathed a little better.

She stood by the rock wall on the side of the parking lot that overlooked a large sitting area. Needing to take a breath of fresh air before she headed to her car, she absorbed the numbness she felt. Her heart twisted with desire, regret, a need to succeed, and a weakness to give up.

What will I do now? How am I going to continue?

"It's pretty loud in there.” She recognized Steven's voice immediately, nearly jumping in surprise. She turned her head toward him then returned her gaze to the open field of tall grass.

She hadn't even heard him approach. It was one of his special gifts. Sneaking up on the enemy was probably what must have kept him alive.

The thought brought chills over her body.

"I just needed some air. I have to get up early tomorrow.” She kept her gaze forward. Her body filled with emotional conflict. W
ill he touch me, please touch me? Go back inside and make this easier for me.

Steven took a step closer. She could feel him as he took in a breath of air. The sensation of his hand taking her left hand as his right hand moved her hair behind her shoulder and away from her face sent shivers and sparks through her body. There was an inner need, combined with an impassionable emotion, so immense it overwhelmed her.

Instantly, the tears rolled from her eyes, and the deep sob that escaped from her mouth shocked them both.

Her body felt weak at his touch, and he definitely felt the same way as they moved toward one another.

There was silence between raspy breathing and entwined fingers.

"You smell so wonderful. You really do look amazing, Tory."

Releasing her hands, Steven wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his cheek against hers.

The warmth of his skin had her closing her eyes, inwardly visualizing his body on top of hers in a heat of voracious passion. Catching her breath, she cursed the natural reaction to her long lost lover.

The desire scared her and she knew she couldn't trust herself around him.

Making an effort to attempt to forget about everything that happened, including the way he left her and dismissed her from his life. A struggle to accept him and soak in every ounce of him, raged through her flesh and bones. There was no way they could start from where they left off, no matter how much her body wanted him.

Victoria pulled away, turning her face away from him.

She noted his reaction and he didn't appear surprised.

"Don't do that, Steven. Please. We can't just start off where we left things."

Attempting to walk away, she didn't get far before he stopped her by taking her hand and blocking her path with his body.

A body no woman in her right mind would deny or push away. She thought he looked strong, handsome, and damn it, irresistible, but she fought it, she had to.

"Don't be angry with me. Please talk to me. I've missed you."

Glancing away, attempting to avoid his amazing eyes was a battle. She found herself scrounging up any and all tidbits of anger and pure acting skills to throw him off, lead him away and keep her from confessing her true emotions.

"What did you expect, Steven, that everything would stay the same—that I would be the same person?"

"No! Yes. Maybe. I don't know, sweetheart. It's just that you still mean everything to me, and I can't not touch you, be attracted to you, and want you.” He reached for her again, and she took two wobbly steps backwards, nearly falling in her attempt to evade his touch.

"Don't do this, Steven. Please, just go back inside and enjoy the party. I'm glad you're home safely, and you have to understand that I'm ... I'm a different person. I need time to get used to this. I thought you were dead.” She stuttered before beginning to cry again.

He pulled her against him, into a safety blanket that had the ability and power to take away every fear, every ounce of sadness and pain she ever felt. Holding her tightly, he caressed her hair, making her feel exactly the way he had before he left for the war.

The urge to spill her guts, confide to the one man who owned her soul and her heart raged through her. She wanted to tell him everything, and she knew if Bret Collins hadn't killed her father, then she would take Steven back right now and start exactly where they left things.

"You can have all the time you want, sweetheart. I'll wait until you're ready. This, I promise."

Brushing her fingertips against his forearms made her insides flutter. Every defined muscle from fingers to shoulders was masculine, sexy, and enticing. As long as he kept holding her like this, she couldn't evade recapture anymore.

Their breathing grew rapid, she could feel his hand caress her lower back then slowly, softly glide over her backside.

Naturally, she moved her hips against him and laid her cheek against his chest.

Was there a way they could make love, stay hidden, and escape to a secret location, a hotel, a car? Damn it! Her libido's ability to entice, crave, and eroticize so deeply over this man, was outrageous. What am I talking about ... a car?

Outraged by her own suggestion, she thanked the heavens that she didn't actually verbalize such a suggestion.

Get away from him, Tory!

The sensation of Steven's rock solid chest beneath her cheek while his hands invaded the walls she fought so hard to build had her holding on tighter. He touched her as if he owned her, had every right to glide hands across her flesh from her backside to her hipbones, then from her ribcage to her breasts.

"Stop!” Shocked that she fell into his spell—a fantasy that could have caused destruction and failure—had her pushing away from him.

He didn't give into her denials, her attempt to stop feeling exactly what he appeared to have felt himself.

"Let me hold you, Tory.... Please?” he begged of her in a whisper, pulling her flush against his body.

They held one another for a few minutes. She was grateful for his silence because it gave her enough time to rationalize the situation, her emotions, and her mission. He didn't attempt to seduce her again.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled away.

"I'm gonna get going. I've had a long week, and I'm going to need all my strength for Sunday. Goodnight, Steven."

Blocking her path, he held her hand in his own and stared at it a moment. She prayed he would just release it and let her go.

Instead, he brought the palm of her hand to his lips and kissed her skin. Before letting her go, he locked gazes with her and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight, Victoria."

Steven watched her as she walked toward her jeep. Her brother and cousins were right. Although he had been out of Victoria's life for a while, she still showed her emotions, no matter how hard she tried not to. Her eyes, her amazing brown eyes gave it all away.

He continued to stand there long after the blue jeep left the parking lot. Remnants of her exotic perfume lingered on his t-shirt. He could practically feel her cheek against his chest, her hips against his groin. She still wanted him ... still loved him. He walked toward the old rock wall and sat upon it, embracing the silence from the loud music and crowd inside.

All he wanted to do was be alone with Victoria, to tell her everything that happened and why he had to make the decisions he had made.

It couldn't be too late. She couldn't possibly be in love with that other guy.
Is that why she pushed me away?

The thought tore his heart wide open and sent a fierce flow of anger and regret through him.