Shadowfires. By: Dean R. Koontz

But he felt love in the tenderness of her touch and in the weight of her

gaze when he caught her looking secretly at him.

In love, they had not yet made love. Although she was a present-focused

woman with the enviable ability to wring every last drop of pleasure

from the moment, that did not mean she was promiscuous. She didn’t

speak bluntly of her feelings, but he sensed that she wanted to progress

in small, easy steps. A leisurely romance provided plenty of time for

her to explore and savor each new strand of affection in the steadily

strengthening bond that bound them to each other, and when at last they

succumbed to desire and surrendered to complete intimacy, sex would be

all the sweeter for the delay.

He was willing to give her as much time as she required. For one thing,

day by day he felt their need growing, and he derived a special thrill

from contemplating the tremendous power and intensity of the lovemaking

when they finally unleashed their desire. And through her, he had come

to realize that they would be cheating themselves out of the more

innocent pleasures of the moment if they rushed headlong thrnugh the

early stages of courtship to satisfy a libidinal urge.

Also, as a man with an affinity for better and more genteel ages, Ben

was old-fashioned about these matters and preferred not to jump straight

into bed for quick and easy gratification. Neither he nor Rachael was a

virgin, but he found it emotionally and spiritually satisfyingand erotic

as hell-to wait until the many threads linking them had been woven

tightly together, leaving sex for the last strand in the bond.

He parked the Thunderbird in Rachael’s driveway, beside her red 560 SL,

which she had not bothered to put in the garage.

Thick bougainvillea, ablaze with thousands of red blossoms, grew up one

wall of the bungalow and over part of the roof. With the help of a

latticework frame, it formed a living green-and-scarlet canopy above the

front stoop.

Ben stood in cool bougainvillea shadows, with the warm sun at his back,

and rang the bell half a dozen times, growing concerned when Rachael

took so long to respond.

Inside, music was playing. Suddenly, it was cut off.

When at last Rachael opened the door, she had the security chain in

place, and she looked warily thrnugh the narrow gap. She smiled when

she saw him, though it seemed as much a smile of nervous relief as of

pleasure.

“Oh, Benny, I’m so glad it’s you.”

She slipped the brass chain and let him in. She was barefoot, wearing a

tightly belted silky blue robe-and carrying a gun.

Disconcerted, he said, “What’re you doing with that?”

“I didn’t know who it might be,” she said, switching on the two safeties

and putting the pistol on the small foyer table. Then, seeing his frown

and realizing that her explanation was inadequate, she said, “Oh, I

don’t know. I guess I’m just.. . shaky.”

“I heard about Eric on the radio. Just minutes ago.”

She came into his arms. Her hair was partially damp.

Her skin was sweet with the fragrance of jasmine, and her breath smelled

of chocolate. He knew she must have been taking one of her long lazy

soaks in the tub.

Holding her close, he felt her trembling. He said, “According to the

radio, you were there.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was horrible, Benny.” She clung to him. “I’ll never forget the

sound of the truck hitting him. Or the way he bounced and rolled along

the pavement.” She shuddered.

“Easy,” he said, pressing his cheek against her damp hair. “You don’t

have to talk about it.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I’ve got to talk it out if I’m ever going to

get it off my mind.”

He put a hand under her chin and tilted her lovely face up to him. He

kissed her once, gently. Her mouth tasted of chocolate.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go sit down, and you can tell me what

happened.”

“Lock the door,” she said.

“It’s okay,” he said, leading her out of the foyer.

She stopped and refused to move. “Lock the door,” she insisted.

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