Page 56 of Unlawful Seduction

Mallory

Now I knew what being in a loveless marriage of convenience felt like. Cold and boring. Okay, maybe that was a stretch given the sexual tension lingering in the air. Still, the two of us were doing our best to keep our distance from each other. When you added being cooped up in a small space, it all led to crazy thoughts and prickled nerves.

That’s the way it had been all day.

Yet the electricity had crackled as if we were spending time in an open thunderstorm, preparing to be electrocuted at any time. I had a constant lump in my throat that four cups of coffee hadn’t erased. And my legs felt like noodles.

Thankfully, my strange condition had nothing to do with the earlier attack. My headache was all but gone and other than a few bumps and bruises, I was no worse for the wear. Of course, I knew I had Beckett to thank for it. The thing about spending time alone was that you had way too much time to think.

The man in my house hadn’t been prepared to ask me questions in an attempt to locate Beckett. He’d been there to kill me. His visit was all about destroying something the unknown jerk had presumed mattered to the man squirreled away behind a closed door. I was no longer emotional about the attack, just processing the events and wondering whether it was only a matter of time before it happened again.

I didn’t want to think that way. I couldn’t pick up and leave town, but I also couldn’t spend any additional time with Beckett outside of this storm. It would be madness. Suicide.

Why did that sadden me so much?

While he’d joined me for breakfast, eating like a horse, he’d said absolutely nothing. Then again, neither had I. Nothing had come to mind to break the dense ice. It was as if we had glaciers forming around us and that had nothing to do with the continuing wacky weather. I’d grown up in Vermont and had never seen a storm of this magnitude. Ever.

I’d found a little weather radio and had tuned in. The storm was expected to last for at least another full day. That would leave over two feet of snow on the ground. The man might have a four-wheel drive, but he lived on the fucking mountain. It would take two weeks before anyone would even bother considering plowing the roads. There just weren’t enough people living in the immediate area.

I couldn’t envision being stuck with him for longer than a couple of days. What about my practice? With no cellphone reception, I couldn’t call anyone letting them know what was happening. The tension was rising.

At least an hour before, Beckett had gone out doing a little shoveling just to make a pathway for Jax so he could more easily go to the bathroom. Given the rate of snowfall, that would be covered up within hours and he’d need to do it all over again.

Just watching the man work, his huge muscles making the shoveling seem so easy had kept my mind active with some very dirty thoughts. Oh, what was I doing to myself? Torture. That was the term. He was a forbidden fruit or maybe I was his. Either way, one more bite of the apple and we could be poisoned.

Yes, my mind was working overtime making excuses.

I hated that another cold shiver slammed against my spine. When I’d looked out the window before, I’d sworn I’d seen men in masks carrying huge assault rifles. It had been the single thing I’d said to Beckett in hours and he’d jumped off the couch like a firecracker, barely getting into his coat and boots before heading outside.

I’d gotten an up close and personal look at his crossbow. I’d known men who owned them before, a few who’d hunted with them, but the military grade weapon Beckett owned had its own category of danger. The level was off the chart.

He’d taken Jax and spent over an hour running through the snow. Now Jax was worn out from the adventure of not finding a single thing. No footprints. No shell casings. Nothing. I’d tried to explain to Beckett upon his return evidence would be hidden in moments. He’d simply looked at me with his moss green eyes before walking away.

And I’d felt like an idiot.

I blamed my jumpiness on him. He’d wanted me frightened of the unknown. He certainly couldn’t have it both ways.He’d retreated to his office, leaving me alone. The quiet was deafening. I was never without noise.

Not in my office wherever I’d been working or at home. Not even at night. I always had a fan going to drown out the brain fog, the white noise perfect for doing that.

I’d paced the floor runner enough times I’d worn a spot in the creatively hued rug. I’d also had the same glass of wine in my hand for at least forty-five minutes. So much for drinking myself into oblivion.

He was punishing my indiscretion by shutting me out. Fine. Two could play at that game. I jerked away from the back door, once again noticing a massive, older stereo system. For a true musician, an iPad even with something like Bose speakers just wouldn’t do. I’d learned that from my roommate at college.

I chewed on my inner cheek before heading toward it. You could tell a lot about a person by the music they owned. What would I learn about the handsome, gruff, and grumpy man keeping me kind of hostage? What we were sharing really had no distinct category. At least none I’d been able to think of.

He had at least four dozen CDs ranging from Springsteen to some heavy rock, but the majority were classics of some kind including several of just acoustic guitar. They were artists I’d never heard of. I selected one and was immediately rewarded with an incredible sound through unseen speakers mounted seemingly everywhere.

There was even some primal music, the cover of the CD indicating perhaps Viking music. I was certain there was an official name for the genre, but it reminded me of one of my favorite television shows. I chose Spanish guitar instead, stillamused at his selection. The man had so many different sides to him.

I was shocked by how soothing the music was, the guitar player extremely talented. I moved through the living room, swaying my hips back and forth. At least Jax noticed I was trying to break out of being a slug, lifting his head and thumping his tail on the cushions of the couch. I laughed seeing his expression, adoring the way his head was cocked to the side. Even his ears were perked up.

“Don’t look at me that way. It was too quiet in here.” I hummed the tune, recognizing it from a Broadway show.

He whined and dropped his head and I’d be damned if he didn’t wipe his ears with his paws.

“Ah. You’re incorrigible. I’m not that bad.” Maybe I was. I had talents, but singing wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t a half bad dancer though and continued swaying back and forth as I moved from one side of the room to the other. There was another set of bookcases along the wall close to the back door where the guitar was located. I carefully avoided getting too close to the musical instrument for fear I’d again invite Beckett’s displeasure.

There were books of various types, including some on musical legends. The man had very eclectic tastes and that offered quite a view of his psyche. As with everyone else, he was multi-layered. Just thinking that provided a twinge deep in my core.

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