Chapter Seven
“No,” Lesley cried and lunged for Cole’s arm. She’d do anything to stop him from going inside the apartment. “You can’t go
in there. They could be waiting.”
Cole didn’t seem to hear her. He brushed her hand aside as if her grip were no more effective than a child’s.
“Cole,” she pleaded a second time.
He had apparently forgotten her presence until Lesley climbed out his side of the car and ran after him. With all her weight
she pulled against his arm. “Cole,” she cried frantically. “You could be killed.”
He turned to her then, his eyes shining with an unnatural light. Hate. Never had Lesley seen anything more vivid in a man’s
eyes. Cole hated with an intensity that paled under every other emotion. His reactions were single-minded—even common sense
was banished under the all-consuming drive.
Realizing nothing could effectively stop him, Lesley flung herself in front of Cole. His hands tried to push her behind him,
but she clung to him, her own fear giving her strength beyond her normal capabilities.
“Lesley,” Cole groaned and gripped her around the waist, holding her upright. His face muscles had relaxed and the intensity had waned. “If anyone was in there waiting, they could have killed us both several times over.”
“Oh.” She swallowed and loosened her hold.
“You put your life on the line for me.” His face loomed bare inches from her own. “Why?”
“I . . . I didn’t want to see you hurt.” Her love had driven her just as his hate had him. But she couldn’t tell him that,
she couldn’t give him another weapon.
Cole raked a hand through the dark hair that swept naturally over his forehead. “You can be the most exasperating female.”
“Me?” she shouted incredulously.
He ignored her outrage and folded her fingers in his. “Come on, let’s go see what damage they’ve done.”
“Who?” Lesley wanted to know. “Jennings?”
Lesley felt the tremor that went through Cole as he tensed and glanced down at her. “No, that isn’t his style. Jennings has
others do his dirty work for him.”
Cole pushed open the door to his apartment with one hand. It banged against the wall, and the sound vibrated through the room.
One flip of the light switch and the area was flooded with light.
Lesley let out a sickened gasp at the mess that lay before her. The living room was in shambles, the furniture slashed and
the stuffing pulled from the cushions. Something had been thrown through the television screen and the shattered glass was
everywhere. Her gaze followed the path of destruction through the apartment.
Speechless with shock, they moved into the kitchen. The contents of the refrigerator had been dumped on the floor. Egg yolks
and milk jelled on the linoleum. A bag of flour had been carelessly tossed across the top of the counter and stove.
“Oh, Cole.” Lesley could hardly bear to look. In all her life she had never seen worse chaos. “We’d better phone the police.”
“No!” he shouted.
“Yes,” she returned stubbornly. “You can’t let this kind of destruction go unreported.”
“I know who did this and I know why. The police won’t help.”
“But, Cole,” she argued.
“I thought you said you could trust me?” He made the shouting words a question. “Were you just lying to me?”
Lesley stared back at him dumbfounded, unable to answer.
“And why should I tell you anything? What right do you have to invade my life and demand answers to questions that are none
of your business?”
“None,” she answered in a soft, trembling voice. “None whatsoever.”
Cole rammed both hands into his jeans pockets and shot a gaze at the ceiling. Neither spoke for several long moments.
“They didn’t find what they were looking for. That’s the reason for this.” His hand made a sweeping gesture toward the kitchen
and living room.
Lesley nodded, realizing that in his own way he was apologizing for his outburst. He was angry and lashing out at her. His
reaction hurt, but it was understandable.
Avoiding as much of the egg and milk as possible, Lesley walked across the kitchen and took the broom from the narrow closet
on the other side of the refrigerator.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a confused look.
“Cleaning up. It’s got to be done.” And if she was occupied, it would be easier to swallow back the questions that demanded
answers. Who had done this? Why? And what were they searching for so desperately?
“Lesley,” Cole groaned and took the broom out of her hand. “I’ll do that. I don’t want you to have to deal with this mess.”
“But I want to help.” Her voice wobbled treacherously. “You’re always pushing me away—let me at least do this.”
He didn’t look pleased about it, but he managed a grin. “Any other woman in the world would have stormed off, and with good
reason. I didn’t mean to shout at you.”
“I know,” she supplied softly. “But I understand.”
An unreadable expression passed over his face. His eyes seemed to caress her. Lesley swallowed tightly. The anguish, the mental
torment he was enduring, was all there for her to read. Every part of her yearned to reach out and comfort him.
“Do what you can in there and I’ll tackle the living room.” Cole broke eye contact first, pivoting sharply into the other
room. Lesley watched him for a few moments as he stooped over to pick up the glass, but soon concentrated on her own efforts.
“If we were still hungry, I might have been able to cook something out of this,” she teased.
Cole made a disgusted sound and continued working.
With a soft smile lighting up her eyes, Lesley decided to dump the flour mess on the counter onto the floor before tackling
that. With the broom she swept it off the counter. The white powdery substance filled the air until it was almost impossible
to see. She coughed and waved her hand in front of her face. When the air cleared she glanced up to find Cole standing, hands
on hips, watching her, his eyes filled with amusement.
Lesley brushed the hair from her eyes. Her hand came away caked with the fine dusting of flour.
“Here, let me do that,” Cole muttered and took a step toward her.
“Don’t you dare,” she cautioned. “You’ll track the flour everywhere.”
“You come here, then.” He pointed to the place where the carpet ended, where the living room met the kitchen.
Lesley did as he requested, attempting to brush the flour from her face and hair.
Cole sighed audibly. “You’re only making it worse.” He took a handkerchief from his hip pocket and made a show of unfolding
it.
“That had better be clean,” Lesley admonished with laughing eyes.
He laughed as he brushed the hair from her cheek and lightly ran the soft cotton cloth over her face. Although his touch was
cool and impersonal, Lesley’s reaction was overwhelming. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. Immediately she regretted the
telltale action and forced a bright smile onto her taut mouth.
“Thanks.” She cast her gaze downward.
“Lesley.” Her name was murmured in a soft tone, and when she glanced up she watched, amazed, as a nerve flexed tensely in
his jaw. Her heart leaped at the tender look in his eyes.
Smiling gently, Lesley reached up and caressed his cheek, her hand lovingly stroking the proud line of his jaw. Cole’s hand
covered hers and directed it to his lips. Lightly he kissed her palm. The teasing gesture made her knees grow weak, and she
locked her arms around his neck and fit her body to his.
Cole wrapped his arms around her and covered her mouth with hungry kisses that skyrocketed her to dizzying heights. The first
taste of longing raced through her blood, catching her unaware. Frightened and more than a little unsure, she released her
hold and levered herself away.
Cole relaxed his grip and expelled a long, shuddering breath. His eyes were still closed.
“I . . . I got flour on you,” Lesley managed after a moment, her voice unsteady. Gently she brushed it from his shirt. Her
palm could feel the rapid beat of Cole’s heart and the labored breathing as he struggled for control.
“I’ll get back to work,” Lesley said and was surprised at the sound of her own voice. It was scratchy and weak.
Silently they worked in different rooms, at their separate tasks, but they were together mentally, even spiritually, in a
way Lesley found unexplainable. She remembered stories her mother had told her as a child about the years Lesley’s father
was in the war. Months on end, and there was no word, no letters. Her mother didn’t know if he was dead or alive, and yet
somehow she did know, because the love they had for each other ran so deep that it spanned time and distance. At the time
Lesley hadn’t understood and must have looked puzzled. When you love, her mother had explained, then you’ll know. Years later,
Lesley discovered the same sensation for this mysterious man, working silently in the room next to hers. But they could have
been continents apart and it wouldn’t have mattered.
“You look very intense.”
Cole’s comment caught her off guard. “I was just thinking,” she answered without meeting his eyes. The floor had been cleaned
and mopped, the counters scrubbed. The transformation in the small kitchen was dramatic, as was the contrast in the living
room where Cole was working.
“What will you do about the furniture? Almost everything will need to be replaced.”
“I’m not sure it would be worth the trouble,” Cole answered her thoughtfully. “I won’t be around here much longer.”
The rest of what he was saying faded into oblivion.
Wouldn’t be around here much longer, Lesley’s mind echoed.
He was leaving, within a matter of days.
He’d pack his bags and without a backward glance be on his way.
She meant nothing: a small-town girl who was a convenient distraction.
Cole would leave without a thought, without looking back, and with him would go her heart.
How could she have been so stupid as to fall in love with this man?
Didn’t she recognize in the library that a man like Cole wouldn’t want anything to do with a nobody like her?
Lesley felt the shock vibrate through her. “Where will you go?” The question was squeezed out through the tight block of pain
that formed in her throat.
“More questions?” His look seemed to sear right to her heart. Fresh pain washed through her.
For a moment Lesley stared at him blankly. She felt the blood drain from her face, her breath caught in her lungs, but she
answered him with a short shake of her head. “No,” she managed. Her hand was shaking visibly as she replaced the broom and
mop in the narrow closet. She made a show of looking at her watch, but couldn’t have guessed at the time.
“It’s getting late. I’ll say good night.” Her eyes refused to meet his.
His hand on her shoulder stopped her as she stepped into the living room. His touch sent shock waves rippling over her skin.
She shrugged her shoulder, breaking the contact. “Don’t,” she warned in a wavering voice. “Don’t touch me.” Each word was
enunciated plainly so there would be no doubt about her feelings.
“You’re angry.” Cole sounded surprised.
“You know, sometimes your brilliant perceptions astonish even me,” she returned flippantly. “Good night, Cole.”
He looked so shocked that she almost wanted to laugh. With her head held high and her chin angled regally, Lesley marched
past him. The short distance that separated their front doors was covered in a matter of seconds.
Lesley opened her front door, looked up and let out a bloodcurdling scream.