Struck by Lightning. Christa Maurice
to the floor in a helpless pool. He was a really good kisser.
“For your experiment. No uniform, no rain.” He grinned and walked out.
No uniform, no rain? Oh, the excuse for the last kiss. The romance scale. She couldn’t let him get away like that. Too much like giving him the upper hand. She hurried to the door and yanked it open. “Thanks. So far the theory holds.”
He stopped and turned around.
“It is more romantic with the rain and the uniform.”
He smiled, apparently pleased with that even though he shouldn’t be. “Good. Stop by the station sometime and we’ll try it with the uniform.” He waved and walked around the corner.
Damn, he got the last word anyway. Rebecca scowled. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Had he actually parked down that street or did it just end the conversation before she got another comment in?
“So, are you going into performance art now too? Or is this just the latest toy boy?” Bess sniped, stopping behind her on the steps.
Rebecca wished Bess didn’t hate her so much so she could tell her about the entire encounter. She wanted someone to talk to. “You decide. Are you going to do your shift here today?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Then I guess I’ll go home. No need for two of us to wait around all afternoon.”
Bess made a lemon sucking face and pushed past Rebecca into the gallery.
Rebecca stared at the corner. He would be a challenge. She needed a challenge right now. The fine-art crowd was like shooting fish in a barrel. If she dribbled paint on a board and nailed it to the wall cockeyed, they would congratulate her on her vision. The hero, however obsessed he acted, wasn’t cowed and might not take all the torture she dished out. His maneuver just now proved that. She had to respect any man who wouldn’t let her have the last word.
Now she just had to wait until he made another appearance. Which he would. They always did.
Chapter 3
That went well. Really, it went well. Dan kicked a rock off the sidewalk in front of him. That woman, Rebecca, was obviously a complete fruit bat who he should damn well know to stay away from and yet what had he done? He’d kissed her. And what had he done after that? He’d asked her to stop by the station. Then he’d turned down the wrong road so she wouldn’t have time to tell him no, causing him to have to walk seven blocks out of the way in the heat to get to his car.
But now he knew where she worked and what her name was.
Lew’s question still ran through his mind. Why? What was it about this one? Why hadn’t he just walked out when she ducked his dinner invitation? Why had he given in to the overwhelming urge to kiss her? And why had he laid all those corny lines on her? Maybe you could teach me? Why not just invite himself up to her place to see her etchings? Something about those eyes, that voice. No way was he not going to try again.
Now, he had to think of the next move. Would he be able to wait for her to stop at the station? Would she stop at the station? Should he try dropping in at the gallery in a couple of days?
Women never made it this difficult for him, but he did love a challenge.
* * * *
Rebecca stood at the corner of Washington and Worchester with her hand on the post office box, staring down the street at the fire station. From this vantage point she could only see half the open bay door and part of the paramedic truck. The truck was in, but she had no idea if the hero was. Just about every day for the last week, she’d found a reason to wander up to the letter box. She’d sent letters to friends she hadn’t seen for years and snail mail to people she usually emailed. Stooping to sending a card to her high school art teacher was just pathetic and she’d done it anyway. Miss Schuler would want to know she was successful.
She had not seen the hero.
By her calculations, he should have caved to her allure at least four days ago. No male resisted her for more than a week. Max cracked inside three days way back when they were in Orientation together. The hero seemed to be made of sterner stuff.
Which made him very annoying. By this time she should have had time to reel him in and play him out again.
She turned and walked back to her apartment. Bess had suddenly taken an interest in working in the gallery. In the original deal, she had taken three days a week, while Bess, Edie and Max split the other three days. Over the summer, Rebecca had taken on more and more days as the others went on vacation or just lost interest. She hadn’t minded because for the moment the gallery was the only thing going on in her life. Now Bess was taking an interest again. She kept showing up in the middle of the day on days Rebecca was supposed to be on her own and driving her out.
For a week now there’d been no place to go and nothing to do.
Except for today. Today she’d had a valid reason to go to the mailbox before pick up. Today was the due date of her first loan payment. Yesterday, she’d listened as her father left an unsubtle message on her machine reminding her of the due date and the terms of the agreement. She’d spent the night scraping together both this payment and the next and carefully wording an acid letter telling them how well she was doing and enclosing a clipping from the paper. Sending them both payments now meant living on ramen for a few days, but it would be worth it. This particular deal with her parents had strained their relationship in ways that Rebecca hadn’t imagined.
The gallery strained every relationship she had. Turning away from the fire station, she started back toward her apartment. She had no desire to work on new pieces, and no need to since the gallery was already overstocked and out of storage. She also didn’t feel like sitting around waiting until time to go to the gallery in the morning.
Last week she’d promised Billy she would stop in and draw stories again. Maybe she should gamble some of her dwindling cash supply on the hope of getting enough tips to cover lunch. At least it would get her out and it would make Billy happy. Even if she didn’t cover her lunch, making Billy happy would be a good payment.
* * * *
Dan pushed through the doors of the bookstore. He’d confidently told Lew last Thursday that he’d found her and she’d be showing up at the station any day. Well, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday had passed, but any day hadn’t arrived. He’d even meandered nonchalantly over to the gallery yesterday, but the crabby woman had been there so he hadn’t bothered to go inside. He’d tried to call Bobbie for advice on women and she’d told him brusquely that she didn’t know any before hanging up on him. Jack’s advice had been to find out where she lived and move in. Dan hadn’t tried Kevin because he valued his head being attached to his neck. Mark was too annoyed by Dan detouring down Market every time they came back to the station to be helpful. If it didn’t have an engine, Lew didn’t understand it, so asking him was useless. Dan had entertained asking Lew’s sister, but dismissed the idea out of hand. She was all of sixteen, not a fount of feminine knowledge yet. Asking an old girlfriend just seemed wrong too. If he called Daisy, she’d have a honey-do list for him and he wasn’t her honey. That left him Jack’s sister and Jessica. Which left him Jessica. He could only hope that her anger at Kevin wouldn’t spill over onto him.
He spotted her at the information desk scowling at a sheaf of papers. The scowl looked like it had been carved on her face. She’d also chopped off her hair. If Kevin would just apologize already, everybody’s life would be easier. Maybe she wouldn’t be a good source, considering her and Kevin’s track record.
He leaned on the counter, smiling. “Hi Jessica. How did the written exam go?”
She looked up and somehow, the scowl deepened. “What do you want?”
“Just to say hi. I haven’t seen you since the wedding and you just had the written yesterday. I wondered if you’d gotten your score from HQ yet.”
“No,”