High Risk

Chapter 1-2

Jesus. Abbott put down the white cable-knit sweater (he’d been thinking how warm it would be for the coming winter). Not five minutes and already the whores are starting in. He tried not to meet her eyes, to pretend she wasn’t there, but her gaze was relentless, almost burning into his back. He looked back at her, quick—a scowl.

He hoped the frown was enough to send her scurrying away. Rummaging through the pile of sweaters on the table, he waited to feel the absence of her stare…and was disappointed. It was as though he had somehow encouraged her; almost as if he could feel her breath on him and it made him furious. The blood pounded a beat at his temples, the pain ratcheting up a notch.

Why couldn’t she simply leave him alone?

Slut. Who else would put on a get up like that and parade around in public, especially on a weekday afternoon? Abbott wished he could just tell her he wasn’t taking the bait, that it would never work with him.

Abbott wanted a nice girl.

* * * *

Beth brushed a stray hair off her forehead and approached him.

“I’m looking for a sweater to buy my brother for his birthday.” She rummaged arbitrarily through the stacks and pulled out a gray V-neck. “What do you think of this?” She held up the sweater and tried to engage his eyes. Such blue eyes.

But he wouldn’t look back, even though the green of her eyes had never failed her before. Ah…playing hard to get. Fine, it would just make the spoils all the sweeter.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask one of the salespeople? That’s what they’re here for.”

Beth leaned closer. “What would they know? They’re just here to move the merchandise. I need an honest opinion.” Beth paused. “From a man who obviously knows a thing or two about looking good.”

“I don’t think I can help you.”

Beth watched as he walked away. Why? Didn’t he understand the signals she was sending?

She watched his ass, encased in worn Levis, and thought she’d be damned if she let this one get away. Not without serious pursuit.

“Wait!” Beth caught up with him, placing a hand on his arm, squeezing the bicep beneath the black cotton T-shirt. “Is that how you take a compliment?”

“What?” That surly expression again. Didn’t he know how alluring it looked? “A man should know how to take a compliment a little more gracefully.” Beth winked. “One never knows which one will be the last.”

“Listen, I’ve got an appointment in about fifteen minutes. I gotta buy these jeans and get outta here.” He sneered. “Thanks so much for the kind word.”

He turned his back on her.

* * * *

Abbott felt her eyes boring into his back as he scanned the rack of jeans for his size. Distracted—none of the sizes made sense. Anger, hot, began to grow inside, buzzing like an insect, growing, growing.

Why the hell doesn’t she go chase some other guy? There are plenty around who’d be more than happy to give her what she wants.

Plus herpes…or maybe the clap…or s******s. Even AIDS. It’d be what the tramp deserved anyway.

Abbott shivered as he felt her fingernail trace its way down his spine. Where did she get the idea? She leaned close and whispered, “I think you’re one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen.”

Abbott thought for only a moment. The last comment had enraged him. Little f*****g tramp. Why doesn’t the b***h leave me alone? I made it clear, didn’t I? What do I have to do, hit her? Take that fine little neck and snap it?

* * * *

She watched as he turned. The scowl had vanished, gone, replaced by a smile. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“That’s the kind of compliment I’ll take.” He spun from the jeans, giving her his full attention. “I can’t find anything I like on these racks.” He put emphasis on the last three words.

Sooner or later, even the biggest ones topple. Beth wetted her lips. A blush rose to her cheeks.

“I know what you mean. The only thing in this store I want isn’t for sale.” She giggled. “At least, I hope not.”

Abbott finally met her green-eyed stare. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

“What’s that matter?” He started toward the exit. “We can just go to your place.”

Beth swallowed, the heat of the hunt rapidly cooling. She never brought people home. Cardinal rule. Of all the encounters she had chronicled in the black journal she kept hidden in the bottom of her lingerie drawer, not one of them had taken place in the home she shared with Mark. Not only might he come home unexpectedly (unlikely…but bringing someone home was still not worth the risk), but she didn’t want any of her encounters knowing where she lived. How would she explain an unexpected visit from one of her suitors, lovesick and wanting more? What would Mark say if he should open the door to a handsome stranger asking for her?

What would she say?

Besides, what she really wanted to avoid was sullying the place she and Mark shared. Their nest. Their home. The place they had made together. “I can’t bring you home.”

“Why not?”

Beth shrugged. “Just can’t. Don’t you have a place?”

* * * *

Abbott watched her squirm. This wasn’t just a w***e. This was an adulterous w***e. Bad enough she f****d around—hell, he hadn’t even asked her name yet—but she f****d around behind some poor schmuck’s back. Some poor schmuck who was probably out right now bustin’ his balls to pay for her alley cat clothes.

It made him sick.

Abbott grinned. “I live with my ma right now. She don’t approve of me bringin’ girls home”

* * * *

Beth glanced at her watch. It was getting to be too late to hunt for someone else. “How about a motel?” she whispered, wishing she could clear her voice of the hint of desperation.

“Can’t do it. C’mon, let’s just go to your place.” He started toward the exit.

Beth stood, rooted. “I can’t.”

He stopped. “What’s the matter? You married?”

“Well, I, no…” Beth laughed, too high. She sighed. “Yes, I am.”

He shook his head. “Then what the f**k are you doing?”

The guilt rose up, hot. She didn’t need this. She should have stayed home, which was where she was going right now. She’d toss out these clothes and all the others like them and never do this again.

Maybe she had been spared. Maybe this was some kind of message. She hurried from the store.

And stopped. There she was, in the mirror before her: color high, eyes shining. She wanted—no, needed—to be appreciated. She couldn’t bear going without.

And he wanted her.

She turned. Just one more look. I’ll go home after that. I promise.

At first, she thought he was gone, and the prospect made her gasp. But then she saw him, near the door, his face filled with longing.

How could she say no?

* * * *

The w***e. Abbott watched her, thinking maybe he had shamed her into behaving herself. And he had…for maybe two minutes.

He smiled, then turned toward the revolving doors.

He knew it would be only a fraction of a second before he heard the click of her high heels…faster, faster.