Unfinished Business
Chapter Nineteen
Sam wandered through the first floor of his home checking locks, and ensuring that all means of entry were secure. It wasn't that he didn't think that Robyn had checked, he just needed to make sure for himself.
The faint sound of the shower reached him as he continued through the downstairs cutting off lights and setting the coffee maker. His mind was immediately filled with thoughts of the woman who stood under that spray of water. He could imagine her smooth shoulders with warm soapy water splashing over them, perfect beads clinging to her neck. Dark hair would be plaster against her head, and gracefully following its line toward her spine. It his mind's eyes she turned and looked at him, her golden gaze cool and curious. That's when he shook himself, realizing that he was standing stupidly near the counter in front of the coffee maker.
Going back out toward the den, not bothering to turn any lights back on, he dropped bonelessly onto the sofa. He was mind-numbingly tired. That was his problem. That probably explained why he was suddenly feeling so emotionally exposed, so -- he hated the word -- vulnerable. He really needed to get some decent sleep.
Challenging the notion, he closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall against the seat back. Again a pair of golden eyes were there, her gaze direct and knowing. He didn't know if he would ever adjust to that about her. She seemed to have an ability to look within and see more than what was visible on the surface, things that he intentionally carried beneath, hidden away and safe.
The look and the expression changed as he remembered the way she had been while they were headed toward the school to pick up Beth. She'd been laughing and smiling with him, her eyes dancing with amusement. His lips curl into a smile in response.
Then things shifted. His mind relaxed and he felt a sensation of floating, as if he was completely weightless, almost drugged. All else faded except for her face. The smile morphed from amused to seductively promising, and her eyes seemed to have locked on him, drawing him in. He was completely captivated, body and soul. Unable to move and not wanting to move.
Robyn moved closer to him them, seeming to float gently forward, the strength of their link growing stronger. She reached for him, her eyes now beseeching. Her touch was very near and he tingled in anticipation of it . . .
Thump!
Sam jolted awake, his eyes flying wide. Heart pounding, he glanced about, mildly disoriented. He must have fallen asleep, he realized. Discovering that the sound of running water from the shower above was no evident, he wondered how long he had hung their in a semi-dream state. There was no time like the present to go upstairs, head to bed and see if he could fall asleep as quickly as he had on the sofa.
Letting loose a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and suddenly froze to the spot. A sound from the opposite side of the patio door had gone through him at whiplash speed. Anxiety induced adrenaline flooded his system and for a moment all he could do was stand there and stare at the closed vertical blinds which blocked the door.
His brain told him that he was imagining things, but his heart was pounding in his chest. He had to know one way or the other. With a quick step he moved toward the cloth blinds, shoved them to the side and found himself face to face with a giant of a man dressed in dark clothing and a knit cap fitted low over his head.
His pounding heart felt as if it ceased to beat altogether as he jumped back with a startled yelp. He wasn't sure how it happened, but in his backward momentum, his feet became tangled in a low wooden magazine rack sending him tumbling backward, knocking into an end table. He went down hard, taking the lamp, pictures and other table contents with him to the floor in a loud crash.
He kicked at spilled magazines, slipping on the slippery pages which seemed to have mired themselves beneath his legs and feet. Suddenly a light blinked on and hands were on his shoulders, sending him into yet another frightened reaction as he struggled to get away.
"Sam!" Robyn's voice cut through his shock, bringing him immediately back to himself. Releasing a heavy breath, he fell weakly back against her and closed his eyes.
"What's wrong, Sam? What happened?" She asked, wrapping her arms more completely around his shoulders, pulling his back into her chest. "Tell me."
Sam raised a hand, warding off the question for a moment as he tried to get his breathing and heart rate back under control just a little. Then, still panting slightly, he pointed toward the door. "There was a man outside. . . on patio."
Robyn's grip tightened slightly in reaction. "I'm going to go over and check it out," she told him after a moment. She helped him sit up more fully and stood to move toward the glass door, carefully stepping around the spilled objects.
"They're probably gone by now," he said, following her movements. The light color of the gown and robe shown mistily in the dimness as it floated behind her. He realized as well just how thin it was. The light reflecting from the hallway allowed glimpses of the sleek figure beneath. Embarrassment flooded him as he continued speaking, hoping to redirect his attention, "I didn't expect to see him. I overreacted."
Robyn continued on toward the door, and peered delicately through the side opening of the blinds. "It's a normal reaction, Sam. It's called 'fight or flight' response." He saw her open the blinds a little wider and peer through, scanning the whole of the back yard.
"I agree with you that he's gone. He probably didn't expect to see you there either." She turned away from the window and approached. "Do you think you'd recognize him again if you saw him?"
Sam blew out a breath, releasing the last of the adrenaline that had flooded his system. Then closing his eyes, he tried to picture the man he'd seen. He was still there, even though most some important features were obscured, such as hair color. The eyes had been light. "Yeah," he nodded, opening his eyes. "I could probably sketch him for you."
He looked about at the mess he'd made as he responded. Getting himself moving, he began to right everything, scooping the magazines into a neat pile. Robyn moved down beside him to help.
"That would be great," she said. "We can get it to the proper authorities to see if we can get some kind of an identification."
He looked up at her. Her hair was starting to dry in loose waves and the smell of his soap wafted warmly off of her body. He lost whatever else she said when she looked up from what she was doing. As their eyes met and held, he felt the stirrings of something deep within himself. Something frightening.
"Are you going to be okay?" Robyn asked, gently, setting her magazines aside and moving in even closer. "Why don't you let me get this stuff for you?" She took his arm and pulled him into a standing position.
Sam followed somewhat meekly, never looking away from her while she maneuvered them toward the sofa. Her touch at his arm seemed to emanate a warmth which spread from there and throughout his body. "No, I can help," he responded a beat too late, especially since he was already allowing himself to be pushed back into the cushions of the couch.
"You're completely exhausted. Let me." She released him, but the warmth remained. With faster motions than he was sure he would have managed, she made quick work of clearing up the mess. She turned on a side lamp and then disappeared and returned with a glass of water and a sketch pad.
"Do you think you could draw now? While it is still fresh in your mind?" She settled on the sofa beside him, drawing one of her feet up and beneath her.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." He would do his best to draw the man. But the image that stayed with him, that wanted to be etched onto the paper with charcoal was the one of her seated on the sofa, the soft light from the lamp playing across glowing skin.