Past Suspicion (Christian Romantic Suspense) by Therese Heckenkamp

Author:Therese Heckenkamp [Heckenkamp, Therese]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: PublishAmerica
Published: 2003-07-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Though the storm continued to rage outside, with a fury that battered the walls and penetrated the basement, I was aware only of the silence between Justin and me.

Justin continued to play with the radio. I listened to static and squeals until I wanted to snatch the radio and throw it out a window. But I managed to control myself, mainly because I had a feeling Justin was trying to annoy me; and if he was, I certainly wasn’t going to let him know he was succeeding. Also, the closest window was farther away than I was willing to go.

“Are you looking for another weather report?” I finally asked, careful to keep my voice patient.

“No.”

I clenched my teeth.

“Here we go!” Justin set the radio on the shelf and looked up in triumph as music began playing. I was so surprised, I smiled.

Justin smiled back. Without warning, he held his hand out to me. He even swept a bow. “May I have this dance?”

My smile faded as I hesitated. I hoped Justin couldn’t see me blushing. “I—I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Justin said. “I am. Just follow me; you’ll get the hang of it.” I caught a faint, insolent challenge in his eyes.

I lifted my chin. “All right.” And I took his hand.

Then just like that, we were dancing. Carried away by the sweet strains of music, I became lost in the enchanting candlelight atmosphere. It didn’t seem real that I, the school wallflower, could be dancing so easily, and yet it seemed more real than anything else. So I’d missed my prom back home. Big deal. I hadn’t even had a date.

I forgot everything but the moment. No longer was the wind and rain and thunder a threat, but rather it became a piece of atmosphere to be tucked into the background along with the music.

In Justin’s arms, I felt protected. Completely. I never knew being held by someone could feel like this. And now that I was convinced the storm couldn’t touch me, my worries and anger melted. In retrospect, I think it’s frightening that I could be so easily subdued. But the thing is, I wanted to be.

I didn’t know what station Justin had found; I only knew it was perfect. Nothing too rocky, nothing so dull that it would make us fall asleep on our feet. It was just right to keep us dancing. No more did I smell the musty basement, but a mix of rainwater and leather, which was odd because Justin wasn’t even wearing his jacket. The moment was magical.

Even now I can easily recall the songs we danced to. And every once in a while I catch one playing somewhere—unexpectedly—and I have to stop what I’m doing, wherever I am, and remember . . . All else vanishes and I am there again in my uncle’s basement, dancing by candlelight with the strangest man I’d ever met, while a storm rages outside.

“Memories are made by moments like these . . .

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