Dead Aim by Ridley Pearson

Author:Ridley Pearson [Pearson, Ridley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7953-4644-6
Publisher: RosettaBooks
Published: 1990-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

I let myself in through the front door quietly. The front door is mostly glass and I could see her curled up on the couch, asleep under an afghan, the fading orange glow of the fire’s embers reflecting off the chimney of a hurricane lamp. I knew she hadn’t activated the security system, because if she had, my entrance through the property gate would have sounded a bell that would have awakened her. Then it occurred to me that perhaps the bell had sounded and she was simply playing asleep to see what I would do with her. I unlocked the door and headed to the security panel, which is hidden in the front coat closet. It works off a twenty-second delay—just enough time to enter the “disable” code and stop the alarms from sounding. After I disabled the house code, I punched in the numbers for the fence alarm to see if it was activated and it was. So she was either playing with me, or she had fallen quickly back to sleep.

A third of the Chardonnay remained. I poured myself a deep glass, quietly placed a small log on the fire, and took a chair across from the couch and studied her. I decided she was asleep. Her mouth was cracked open slightly and her breathing was long and regular. Her face looked peaceful and even childlike in sleep. Beautiful. A sprig of her brown hair cascaded down over her chin, and at the corners of her eyes were the faintest beginnings of crow’s feet. The afghan heaved with her breaths, her hands wrapped up in it, holding it close to her neck, keeping her warm.

I sipped on my wine. I had only known this woman a matter of days. Days. And yet my heart was fully with her. I felt no urgency to hurry our friendship or relationship (I wasn’t sure which it was). And though I longed for intimacy with her, I knew if it would come at all, it would come on its own time schedule. We both would know when the moment was right. There was no need to force it.

She made a sleep sound and stretched a leg. The fire sparked and crackled with the fresh log. Some lyrics came to me and I rose to find a scrap of paper and write them down. This done, I returned to my chair and worked on the wine, my attention split between the mesmerizing fire and this enchanting woman. A half hour passed. My wineglass emptied and I decided it was too late to pour myself another. I went into her room and turned down the bed. Then I went back to the couch and knelt by her. I could hear her breathing and the heat from the fire warmed my right side. I slipped a hand under the afghan and hooked her knees. She came partially awake and smiled demurely. I ran my left arm under her back and up to where I could support her head.

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