Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [134]
“Oh, you poor dear.” Lila picked up the newspaper clippings and placed them back in the drawer. “I don’t know why your son would bring those articles and show them to you, but I’m sure he had a good reason.”
Lila walked out of the room, all the while grumbling to herself. “You’d think he’d want to keep his mother from learning that such terrible things had happened to people she knew. The last thing Miss Terri needs while she’s recuperating is to find out that she could well be on that crazy man’s hit list.”
Chapter 26
During the past couple of weeks, Lorie and Mike had fallen into a daily routine oddly resembling that of an old married couple. Minus the sex, of course. They took turns preparing their meals and shared in the household chores. They read the morning newspaper together and considered it a good day if neither Lorie nor the Midnight Killer was mentioned. Although a stray reporter showed up at least once a day, for the most part, the press didn’t bother them, nor did nosy neighbors. Of course, Buddy Pounders had caught a couple of teenage boys spying on Lorie’s house through binoculars and they admitted they were hoping to catch a glimpse of Lorie naked.
She had overheard Buddy tell Mike, “They had copies of that flyer of Lorie from Playboy. You can imagine what they’ve been doing.”
She didn’t want to imagine, but she knew. Boys and men alike often gazed at photos of naked women while they masturbated. Just when she thought there was a chance for Mike and her to put the past behind them, her past came back with a vengeance to put her in her place.
And just what was her place?
In hell, of course, with all the other wicked women.
Lorie’s day-to-day life would be boring if not for Mike’s presence. The sizzle sparking between them kept them both on edge, each acutely aware of the other. She lay in bed at night and thought about how close he was, just down the hall, only a short walk away. So close and yet so far away. And it was driving her crazy knowing that all she had to do was go to him, touch him, kiss him, offer herself to him.
Whether she showered or soaked in the tub, fantasies of a naked Mike joining her aroused her unbearably. When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his big hands caressing her wet, naked body. She could feel his warm breath at her ear, his moist lips sucking at her breasts, his tongue stroking her intimately.
If their hands accidentally brushed or their bodies touched even for an instant, she felt a jolt of sexual electricity ignite between them. At odd moments, she sensed him staring at her. When she looked at him, their gazes would lock and each knew what the other was thinking.
Once a day, never at the same time, Mike escorted her outside for a short walk around her house. That morning, she had picked the last of the blooming tulips and daffodils from her flower garden and, once back inside, had trimmed the stems and placed the flowers in a crystal vase filled with water. The arrangement now graced the center of her kitchen table, where she and Mike were eating lunch.
Lorie wanted to return to work, but had agreed with Mike that it was best to wait for a while longer before resuming her normal schedule. Confinement at her home meant safety. It was easier to protect her in that type of controlled environment. At Treasures, she would be dealing with the public, and that public would include not only customers, but curious townsfolk, overeager reporters, and judgmental activists from the Women for Christian Morality organization. The WCM had done everything short of running her out of town on a rail when she’d come back to Dunmore nine years ago. Recently, she had received so many phone calls from reporters, both TV and newspaper, and publicity-seeking leaders of WCM that all her calls were now diverted to Powell’s and monitored by the agency. It was a better solution than unplugging all of her phones during the day.
Mike alternated between working out of her home and going into his