She admired these shadowy men and wanted to know if, like Richard, the stranger worked for the government. Even as a child, guests moved in a cloud of silence. Paisley knew they were no ordinary family. Questions were forbidden and Dad never spoke of his work. Finding clues became her passion, and she'd become very good at it. She would start where the trail left off, at the restaurant. If he turned up the next day, it might not be a coincidence.
With her heart saying yes, and her head saying no, Paisley followed her heart. Here she sat, in the very same restaurant, the very next day, at exactly one o'clock, to test her hunch. Wearing her favorite lace shirt and curve-hugging pants, she liked the black fabric accentuating her butt. Standing in line, she tried to unleash her sexual confidence. At least, her feminine wiles should unhinge him. She tossed her hair back and thrust out her hip. In maddening suspense, she waited for him to show. She awaited his broad, muscular form to materialize, from the flock of lunch patrons, with the same mixture of the fear and excitement she felt yesterday. All night, her desire throbbed. She wanted to see how this would play out.
She ordered a Caesar salad and deposited herself at the same wooden table. Though it wobbled slightly, its position provided a view of the door, as well as the marble counter, where a few lawyers she recognized, from sleazy commercials, grumbled. They complained about their cold food. She, too, longed for heat. Settling in, she picked at the romaine while covertly checking out the diners. No such luck finding Mr. Dark and Testy.
What will I do if I see him? Act dumb and pretend? Or tell him she thought he might have been someone she knew? After all, as a blonde, she could feign the undeserved ditziness thrust onto those of her coloring. The trouble being, she didn't lie well. She'd probably stutter or put her foot in her mouth. But the chance of running into him again seemed slim unless he usually hung out here. She couldn't see him frequenting such a frilly place unless it was convenient, or he happened to love the food. The purple, floral décor didn't fit a tough man's image. A dark bar with plenty of noise and private grief suited him more.
Just thinking about him, her excitement rose. Tingles rushed up her torso, excellent for writing inspiration. To capture her mood, she took out her worn notebook and jotted down some notes. She made a list: handsome in a fierce, sexual way, not in a pretty-boy way. Tall, broad, physically powerful, must ooze authority. He more than likely has a government job, hence the attitude.
"Is that a wish list or something else you are conjuring?" a deep voice boomed from over her shoulder, causing her skin to flame to red. She detected a hint of humor, beneath the mocking tone. "Is that supposed to describe me?"
About to die of embarrassment, she peeked behind her. The mysterious man from yesterday grinned, so she turned back around and quickly closed her notebook. He loomed over her, his shadow blending with hers. Now if only they could tangle and merge. She squirmed in her seat, squeezing her legs together, as if to quell the feelings he provoked. She feared he'd sense her rampant lust and tried not to think sexy thoughts.
"No," she said defensively. "I'm writing. I'm a writer."
As if considering the information, he inquired, "Isn't that kind of redundant?"
"What are you? An English teacher?"
"Maybe," he said as he moved to sit across from her.
His attention roamed over her blouse and then back to her still-heated face. He seemed to enjoy her blush. His mood did not project quite so threatening as the day before. Maybe now he realized that her intentions toward him were of a lovelorn writer and not those of a spy.
"What concern is it of yours what I do?" Paisley tried to sound confident.
"I don't know yet. I'm still trying to figure you out," he answered. His brow wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. "Why were you watching me?"
Coldness blanketed her. That hostile look settled in again. His hawk-like eyes stared, as if picking out places he'd like to probe inside her mind. She didn't like being questioned. She raised her chin and challenged him, refusing to be intimidated.
"Is it a crime to notice a man?"
"Maybe," he said, checking out her bust again in her tight top. "So, you were interested in me for sexual reasons?"
Flustered, she said, "I apologize for bothering you. Now please, let me return to my novel."
"If your novel contains anything about me, I'm afraid I can't leave you alone."
He moved again to stand beside the table. Okay, now Paisley felt threatened.
"And, why not?"
"Well, let's just say, it interferes with national security."
The hard look from his almost-black eyes seemed to pin her to the seat.
"You have got to be kidding!"
According to his stance, he wasn't. This whole situation rattled her. Denied freedom of speech, feeling like a criminal, she'd had enough of this intimidation. Her insides practically boiled, though something gave her a hunch he jested for fun. Still, she did not need to have her emotions toyed with.
Her body reacted strongly as she faced him. She put her purse over her shoulder and said, "Let's pretend I don't exist."
"That's my job," he replied, looking her up and down and settling his gaze on her mouth as he spoke.
"And what job exactly is that?" Paisley asked directly.
"I can't tell you."
He made eye contact with her again. Paisley wanted to kiss his sensuous mouth. His bland voice and actions did not match the fervor burning in his eyes. His detachment had to be a front because passion bubbled beneath the surface, as if she affected him in a way he didn't know how to fight. As if shoved behind a barely-closed door, why fight those feelings, deny the certainty of their attraction? But then Paisley tried to deny it, as well. Beneath his soldier-like bearing lay a man. And something about that man got to her, and yet she feared the crush of his intensity.
"What can you do?" she demanded, pushing past him. Her hardened nipples peaked as they brushed over his chest. Surely, he could feel them through his thin cotton shirt? "Leaving me alone needs to be at the top of your list.”
Her wrist caught just as she passed, she turned back to him, surprised by his expression. His touch burned her. Looking bewildered, he scrutinized her, making who-knows-what kind of assumption, but she didn't want to deal with him. She had enough trouble dealing with the war going on inside her. If she had stumbled onto a terrorist activity, her life would not be worth living. His grip tightened, and alarm bells went off in her head.
Paisley felt claustrophobic suddenly. She jerked her arm from his hand and ran out. Maybe she didn't know how to handle a man like him. For a second, she'd felt unsafe and vulnerable and that frightened her. Her desire still pounded low in her center. That, too, frightened her. With hands shaking, she tried to unlock her car door, but the key just would not go in. This was not her day!
"I'm never going back there again. I'm such an idiot," she told herself out loud.
She fumbled with the key once more and attempted to steady her sweaty hand. Then she gasped as firm fingers encircled her wrist and squeezed lightly, taking the keys from her hand. His body pressed to her back and he placed his hands on her upper arms. He turned her to face him, and his amused look confused her. He flashed a smile, showing snow-white teeth. She didn't resist him as he ran one hand down her arm.
"That's not your car." His voice rolled, deep with want.
"How do you know? Maybe you need to recheck whatever info you have on me."
Paisley tried to hold herself together, determined to act strong.
He stepped back a little. When he covered his mouth to conceal a laugh, she turned, following the direction of his humor-laden gaze. A hunched-up older man sat in the car, giving her a nervous wave. Revealing grayed teeth, the man asked if she needed a ride. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her right then. The poor old gentleman must have wondered what she was doing. From the heat of her face, she knew it burned scarlet.
Without speaking, she held out her hand for her car keys. She moved to the next car over and tried again. Her mystery man followed which prolonged her embarrassment. Paisley felt she had over-reacted somewhat.
"I think I might have to protect elderly men from you. You are a danger to them, perhaps a stalker. I'll put that in your file. It will say, 'not a threat to national security; she just likes to scare old men in their cars.”
Okay, it is funny, I admit, but his dominating posturing deactivated my resolve. Helpless not to smile, she silently begged for an end to this embarrassment, at her expense. If only it happened to him.
He sighed and seemed to level with her. "I'm flattered that you want to make me a character in your book, Paisley Storm, but I have to politely ask you not to."
"Politely? Man-handling me is polite? And how do you know my name?"
But he would know her name by now, if he were indeed an agent. He must have got her info from the DMV. Her insides roiled with anxiety and arousal. What else does he know?
Instead of answering, he pulled her hard against him and whispered in her ear, "I did a little research. Your books are arousing. I almost wouldn't mind being in one. I like how you write about (redacted because it is mature content).
What? I never wrote that! He never read my books. Is he making fun or playing with me? Getting a whiff of heady male scent, she fought against the fervent feelings, wreaking havoc in her. Warm tingles emerged from intimate places. She hated herself for the attraction. He didn't deserve it. Did he? She wanted love and passion, not mere toying with. But he looked so strong, so damn sexy!
"You didn't answer how you know me," she snapped, though breathlessly, "and I want you to unhand me right now, or I'm going to call the police!"
"I work for the government. And I don't believe the government wants you meddling in my affairs, so pretend we never met," he said before slowly stepping away.
She cursed her body's protest.
Cocky as hell, he added, "And keep your fantasies about me in your head and not on paper."
"What? What fantasies?"
"The ones I see smoldering in your eyes."
With a hint of a smile, he walked away. Like a lone cowboy, he disappeared into a black sedan a few cars down. The wind blew in his direction as if urging her attention to him, signaling what? That he was a pain in my ass! He boldly winked at her before merging with the traffic. With her jaw still hanging, she watched him go. What could she do? Did she have to take that?
Soon he would be disappearing into the heart of Norfolk. His sleek car stopped at the light, in the left hand lane. It idled there in the traffic, a split-second from vanishing. He hesitated even after the light changed. Why? Either he was not paying attention or was egging her on? Perhaps his hesitation signaled an invitation, but she had never been that daring before.
"What a jerk," she muttered, mulling over emptiness.
Quickly getting into her car, she noticed that her faded air freshener smells like dust. Turning the key, the car started smoothly.
Stuck with all these conflicting feelings, she needed an outlet. Pulling out into the traffic, she stared one last time at his car, knowing she'd probably never see him again. She didn't want to return to the humdrum life she led. She missed his sense of danger, despite her better judgment. The man blasted her senses to warm heights, so she followed him past the Shoney's toward Norfolk. Something inside Paisley wanted to fling good judgment behind.
"Okay, Mister. If you are an agent, what do you think about this? You want to play with me? Game on!"
Acting on impulse, which gave her a passive-aggressive thrill, she decided to follow his car. Though probably not the smartest thing to do, it sure felt exciting. She didn't want to lose track of him. His car way ahead, she stepped on the gas, exceeding the speed limit by a dozen miles per hour. She hogged the road; not letting anyone cut her off. Things got precarious. This area had the reputation for the worst drivers. She'd just become one of them.
Running a red light, Paisley careened around a van to keep him in sight. If he knew, he didn't let on; he simply continued to his destination. She could see him fiddling with the buttons on the radio. He never seemed to check his rear-view mirror, unless he was trained to make it appear that way. He gave no clue if he knew she tailed him or not. His mind must have already cast her aside. She wasn't ready to be banished because she might never see him again. But Paisley wanted to see him again and try to figure him out.
"You don't even see me. You can't be that good an agent," she chastised.
Growing self-conscious about her recklessness, she slowed a little. A burly-looking cop, driving in the right lane, giving her a stern look; perhaps deciding she was just a crazy woman driver. He let her be. So, she behaved until he turned into a residential area. Her speed limit stayed on target for another block and then sped up. With the cop out of the way, she passed a few cars in a zigzag pattern. She wanted to satisfy her questions about this man. Was he an agent?
Did he like her even a little? Is that why he came back to the restaurant and approached her? Unfortunately, she wasn't too familiar with this area. A mall she used to frequent stood a half mile up ahead on the left, but it had gained a reputation for drug dealing and gang violence. Good Lord! What if he was a drug dealer? Fear usually kept her beyond this point, but today she ignored her reservations. This man stole her sanity.
He kept going past a dozen restaurants and then onto a shoulder. He turned off into a garbage-strewn, service-industry vicinity known for violence after hours. Maybe he was on his way to kill someone the government didn't like. Maybe he was just a pencil-pusher. Curious to find his workplace, she stayed close behind him, dodging around traffic. One SUV nearly side-swiped her, but she focused on the destination he traveled to. She hoped he didn't head to where he lived. That would be awkward. How could she explain herself? Besides, she didn't need that much information. Certainly, that would be crossing the line. But she kept going, journeying away from safe territory. With her life a dead end, she needed a mission. Of course, whether or not this was the right mission to pursue remained unknown.
Fear snapped her back to reality, for a moment, but too late to turn back. Mr. Elusive headed toward a shady business district with a few warehouses behind chain-linked fences. She decided to turn around and pulled into a gravel parking lot. Abruptly, his car stopped, and he drove back into the car park as well. He jumped out to confront her.
"Oh, shit!" she muttered, ducking down in her seat.
She covered her eyes and squeezed them shut. Knowing she bought this on herself with her immature behavior did not help.
Hearing her car door open and feeling a hand pull her out, Paisley opened her eyes to face the music. Held firmly by the shoulders until she wriggled away, he let her go easily while gesturing in frustration.
"Lady, you are damn stupid!"
That stung, though warranted. She kicked at the gravel, not having anything to say in her defense.
"I ... I know what you are," she answered with confidence.
"Excuse me?"
He stood with head high, back straight, feet wide. With command presence, he acted like he controlled the world. Her eyes surveyed every potent inch of him.
"You are a government agent of some sort, aren't you? CIA? FBI?" She pressed on with her questioning, determined to win back some control.
"What makes you think that?" he said coolly.
"The way you walk, the way you act above the world. Or maybe you are a terrorist."
"Is that so?" That amused look came back to his face as he spoke, "You've got a hell of an imagination."
She shrugged and added, "My dad was an agent, and, apart from other tell-tale signs, you seem just as pigheaded."
"Then you should know that you shouldn't be playing games with me."
How could she tell him that he excited her? Couldn't he come to that conclusion on his own?
"Can you tell me what the hell you are doing?" he asked, leaning to almost tower over her. "You could get killed or worse."
"Uh, I..."
Before she could finish, he seized her again and covered her lips with his. The sudden kiss dazed her, before she sank into it, yearning for more. His tongue surveyed her mouth, claiming its territory while ruling over it. Then he pulled away just a bit and looked at her. Her insides whirled. She held onto his strong arms for support. Oh, my, they are muscular, she realized. She knew nothing of this man, but she foolishly endangered herself for his attention, and, sadly, she didn't care. She wanted to keep going. She focused on the ground to get her bearings.
"There is some inspiration for your book. Now go home and leave me alone."
He spoke the words, but his eyes told a different story. Tremors surged through her body. She couldn't believe he'd said that. Walk away and forget?
"What?"
"You heard me."
"And what if I don't?" Paisley challenged.
His hands gripped her hard around the waist, and he studied her. Sad eyes beseeched hers, and she longed to say that she understood that kind of sorrow, stemming from loneliness, not being able to fully share your life with another. Then slowly, his hand cupped her face, and he caressed her cheek with a finger. Lightly, he traced her features, as if committing them to memory.
"What do you want with me, Paisley Storm?"
In response, she took his face in her hands and tenderly moved in for a kiss. She felt him jolt a little, as if surprised by her response then he eagerly deepened the kiss, spinning her senses out of control.
"We need to stop."
His lips curled into a big smile. "I like a challenge, but this has to wait. I have things to do. Besides, you shouldn't tease wild animals." he added, with a little slap to her behind.
"Will I see you again?"
Getting into his car, he asked, "Are you sure I even exist?"