Moments In Time: The Complete Novella Collection (9 page)

“That only happens in the movies. In real
life, people are better at hiding secrets.”

I lifted my feet up onto the couch and
crossed my legs. “I don’t want to lie to him. He deserves
better.”

Melisa grasped my hand and her eyes grew
serious. “He deserves you, and you deserve him.”

“No, it’s not right. I have to tell him. I
forgot the slip of paper I’d written his number on at the hotel, so
I’ll go back to work on Monday and wait for him to show up.”

“You have to think about this carefully.
This could change everything. He might never forgive you.”

“ Maybe he will. I’ll explain everything. If
not, at least I’ll know I did the right thing.”

Sunday evening, I stood in front of the
mirror and rehearsed how I would tell Nick the truth. After
repeating a string of words to myself for almost thirty minutes, I
showered and went to bed.

***

The doorbell woke me up around two a.m. I
slipped into my satin robe and stumbled to the door.

It had to be Melisa. She visited me often
now. But never so late.

I yanked the door open and green eyes stared
back at me. “Nick.” I swallowed hard.

“Can I come in?”

“Hmmm... Yes.” I stepped aside. My hand
grasped the door for support. I wasn’t prepared to see him yet.

“How did you know where I lived?” I asked,
closing the door.

“You gave me your address at the hotel. We
were supposed to have dinner at your place tomorrow night. Or have
you forgotten that?” Nick’s gaze swept the room. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” My apartment was airy and
comfortable. A big contrast to how I felt. “What are you doing
here?” I sat on the couch, hands tucked under my bottom so he
couldn’t see them shaking.

“I missed you. We spent a great night
together, and then you don’t call for a week and don’t answer my
calls? What’s going on? Have I upset you in some way?”

I shook my head and blinked back tears.

Nick came to sit next to me, and drew me
close. “Then what is it? Why do you look so upset?”

“It’s nothing...” I’d planned to tell him
the truth, but now the knot in my stomach rose up and choked
me.

He shot to his feet and paced the room. “I
don’t get this. There’s obviously something wrong. Why won’t you
talk to me?”

“I can’t.”

Nick ran both hands through his hair and sat
back down. “You can tell me anything, anything at all. Whatever’s
bothering you, we can work through it together. I promise you
that.”

“No, we can’t... Nick, I—”

“Look,” he said seriously. “It was not a
coincidence that we met that day at the chapel. We were meant to
walk into each other’s lives. That’s why we bumped into each other
again at Stalford. I feel so much for you. I’d like to believe you
feel the same for me. When we were together, I really felt you
liked me as much as I like you.”

“I do, I really do. But—”

“Let’s not throw this away. One doesn’t come
across something like this often. Carlene, I want to be with you. I
know you’re still healing from the loss of your ex, and that’s why
you’re holding back, but I am in love with all of you. We can work
through this together.”

I rose to my feet and went to stand by the
window, gazing into the darkness. “There’s too much you don’t know
about me.”

“Tell me, baby. Let me in, so I can get to
know you.”

“I can’t.”

He didn’t say anything more, but I could
hear him shuffling around behind me.

He approached me, but I didn’t turn to face
him. He stood so close that heat radiated from his body to
mine.

My heart skipped a beat.

As he pressed the length of his body against
mine, his erection hard against my butt, he made me forget about my
plans to confess.

“Tell me you don’t miss this.” Nick wrapped
his arms around me and slipped one hand inside the robe. He cupped
my breast, and with the other hand, unraveled the cord of my
bathrobe and peeled it off. The satin material brushed against my
body and pooled at my feet.

The confession would have to wait. I needed
Nick. Just in case I never got the chance to be so close to him
again.

I shivered as he moved his free hand toward
my panties.

With just a finger, he removed them from the
area he was interested in and pushed them to my knees. He paused
and took his hands away from my body, leaving me cold. He unbuckled
his belt, unwrapped a condom. His warm breath caressed my skin as
he slid it on. Then he pulled me close again, bent me forwarded,
and parted my legs with his knees, opening me up to him. My breath
caught as he gripped my thighs and pushed into me, igniting me.

He slid in and out slowly at first, and then
faster and harder, as our moans, groans, sighs, and my screams
merged into one.

I gyrated my hips from side to side, feeling
all of him. It was hungry, painful, beautiful sex that stole my
breath.

Together Nick and I rose up the ladder of
passion, higher and higher, until we climaxed at the same time.

Panting, Nick straightened me but didn’t
pull out. His arms remained wrapped around my body. He kissed my
neck and the back of my ear. “Tell me you can live without this and
I’ll leave.”

“I can’t,” I whispered. But inside, guilt
gnawed at me. It couldn’t go on like this. He had to know. “But we
need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.” He slid out then, and I turned
to face him.

“I’ll go and have a quick shower first, is
that okay?” I needed time to prepare myself for a moment that might
just change everything.

“Take as long as you need. I’ll be
here.”

When, five minutes later, I walked out of
the bathroom, drying my hair, my eyes zoomed in on what Nick held
in his hand, and my heart stopped. He held a framed photograph of
Chris.

“Who is this?” he asked, his face ashen.

I leaned against the doorframe for support,
suddenly dizzy with fear. “I... I... Nick...”

“Answer me, dammit!” he shouted, his voice a
blade of steel that cut right through me. “What are you doing with
my brother’s photo?” His eyes were daggers. “Who are you?”

“Nick.” I walked to him and tried to touch
him, but he yanked his arm away. “You’re her, aren’t you?
You
are Marianne Adams, the woman who shot and killed my
brother.”

“I can explain.” Tears welled up in my eyes
and flooded my throat. “I wanted to tell you.” My first name was
Marianne, but after Chris died I wanted to be someone else, and I
started using my middle name instead.

He threw the photo onto the couch and
grabbed his suit jacket. “What’s there to explain? You killed my
brother,” he shouted.

I sank to the couch. “Yes,” I muttered. “But
it was a mistake. The police confirmed it.”

“I don’t give a damn what the police think.
How can a killer be innocent? You pulled the trigger. That makes
you guilty of murder.” He leaned on the wall for support. His brows
knitted and his eyes narrowed to blazing slits. “How could you not
tell me? How could you make me find out like this?”

“Please sit,” I begged through my tears.
“Allow me to explain.”

He straightened up again and wiped his eyes
with the back of his hand. “No.” He walked to the door. “I know the
truth now. All I need is for you to stay the hell out of my life.
You belong behind bars.”

“Please, don’t say that.” I shot up from the
couch and ran after him as he barged through the door. I followed
him, barefoot, all the way to his car, shouting his name. But I was
too late.

Nick climbed into the Porsche, slammed the
door shut, and drove away.

I fell to my knees on the sidewalk—not
caring that grains of sand dug into my skin—and buried my face in
my hands, weeping. He would never forgive me. My happy ending had
turned into a nightmare. But I wanted him back. So much that it
hurt. But how could he love his brother’s killer?

END OF BOOK 1

Rekindled
Moments

(Moments in Time #2)

By Dori Lavelle

The day I met Chris, I’d been inching my way
through the isolated Shop ‘n’ Carry grocery store parking lot, my
shortcut to and from campus.

Every step was a slip. When I’d left my
apartment hours earlier, the skies had shown no sign of an
approaching snowfall. In fact, the day had started off mild, which
made me believe the long, harsh winter was finally ending. Fool
that I was, I’d taken my spring trench coat and sneakers instead of
a heavy winter coat and boots.

My sneakers sank into the fragile cushion of
snow, my feet growing wetter with every step. I shivered and hugged
myself to keep warm as the wind whispered into my ears.

Home was fifteen minutes away. Not that far,
but in winter distance multiplied. And I definitely didn’t have
enough money on me for a cab.

“Want a ride?” A deep, warm voice rang out
in the cold.

I startled and peered through the snowfall
in the direction of the voice.

It belonged to a guy in a black pickup
truck, which was idling a few parking spaces away from me. His eyes
were fixed on my face.

Suddenly a little warmer, I called, “No,
thanks,” and pulled my woolen hat further down my forehead,
catching a whiff of my lavender-scented fabric softener. As I
passed his truck, I evaded his gaze, but every fiber of my being
begged me to meet those electrifying eyes.

As I did, he stuck his head out of the
window and gave me a smile that knocked my heart out of place. “At
that rate, you’ll make it through this parking lot no earlier than
tomorrow morning. I promise I won’t bite.”

I shrugged, gave a small smile, and kept
walking.

When I arrived home twenty-five minutes
later, I could barely feel my fingers. It took a long, hot shower
to warm me up.

Lara, my roommate—who later fell in love
with a French exchange student and followed him back to
Paris—prepared hot chocolate for me.

Curling my fingers around the white mug, I
inhaled the soothing aroma of chocolate. Every sip coated my tongue
and warmed my throat. Its richness reminded me of the voice
belonging to the stranger from the parking lot.

***

The next day, I made sure I was dressed for
winter; the temperatures had plummeted even further. I thought of
taking a different route home to avoid bumping into the guy from
yesterday. Not that I didn’t want to see him again, it was just
that he was so sexy I feared I’d be all clumsy around him and he’d
lose interest. But I couldn’t help myself. An invisible string drew
me toward the Shop ‘n’ Carry parking lot. Besides, I needed to get
home as soon as possible. I was consumed with exhaustion after a
long, drawn-out lecture on marketing principles from my ancient
professor.

Lacy snowflakes blinded my eyes as my gaze
raked the lot for a black pickup. Every nerve of my body told me he
was there, even if I couldn’t see his truck. Was I just being
crazy? But no—there he was, leaning against his pickup.

He met my eyes and grinned. Despite the cold
weather, he only wore a leather jacket, white T-shirt, and jeans.
“Remember me?” he asked as I neared the truck. He was parked at the
entrance of the lot, which meant I couldn’t exit without passing
him. “Change your mind about having me drive you home?”

This time I took a good look at him. He was
above average in height, with sculpted facial features, a buzz cut
peppered with snowflakes, and muscular arms with biceps that bulged
against the sleeves of his form-fitting jacket. Handsome. Seriously
handsome.

As I drew closer, a smile tipped his lips
again, and my cheeks burned.

In spite of myself, I returned his smile. I
had to admit, he had my heart pounding with that grin. But I shook
my head at his invitation.

At twenty-two, I’d dated a few guys, but
something had always been missing. If someone had asked me, before
I met Chris, if I’d ever been in love before, I probably would have
said no. Any guys I really felt drawn to had never shown much
interest in me. If they didn’t find me attractive enough, that was
understandable. I sure wouldn’t have been attracted to myself. My
hair was dull. I was too skinny and too tall, with no curves. None
that I could see, anyway.

Lara thought otherwise. According to her, I
was so beautiful, men feared being turned down if they asked me
out. Hard for me to believe, but to each her own.

“What if I threw in a cup of coffee, or tea,
or something cold? Whatever you prefer.”

I wanted to accept his invitation, but I
didn’t. Not for another three days.

Chris never gave up. Every time I walked
through the parking lot, he was there, smiling at me from his
pickup.

On the third day, he changed his strategy.
Instead of inviting me out for coffee, he brought the coffee to
me.

How could I say no to that?

Inside the truck, he wrapped a blanket
around my shoulders and poured me coffee from a thermos flask. Out
of a bag he pulled sachets of sugar, a pint-sized milk carton, and
chocolate and vanilla doughnuts.

No one—and definitely no guy—had ever done
something so nice for me.

***

Since our first coffee date in his truck, we
saw each other often. When we weren’t together, we talked on the
phone. We had both grown up in orphanages, and that fact only drew
us closer. Within a week, we were an item, and I became the envy of
every girl in town. Most girls who met Chris wanted him, but he
only had eyes for me.

Even though he told me I was beautiful, I
had to make myself look and feel like I deserved him. I cut my hair
into a cute, sleek bob, and Lara helped me pick out clothes that
flattered my figure and made me appear more curvaceous.