Into the Fire - Leslie Kelly [76]
Whatever happened with Lacey and her family situation, she had to handle it on her own. Later, when the dust settled, when and if she finally figured out his innocence, maybe she'd come back.
Back at home on Monday afternoon, Nate heard a knock on his door and padded over in bare feet to answer it He hadn't shaved in three days and wore just a pair of sweatpants. When he opened the door, he found a delivery man holding a package.
"You Nathan Logan?"
Nate nodded and signed for the package. Grabbing a five to tip the guy, he shut the door and opened the box. "A tape?" Inside the small cardboard box was a microcassette tape, the right size to fit into his small recorder. Intrigued despite his fatigue—and his hangover—he went into his office.
Inserting the tape into his recorder, he sat down and pushed Play. Lacey's voice broke the silence of the room.
"One Woman's Battle Scars from the Sexual Revolution, by Lacey Clark ."
Nate froze, listening as Lacey spoke. She was, quite obviously, reading her article aloud. He heard the shuffling of papers in the background. That made her comments all the more shocking. "You wrote this?" he asked aloud.
Her recorded voice continued. "I've written many times about true love and soul mates, about looking across a room into the eyes of the person you're destined to be with. In recent weeks, I've come to understand something—true love, perfect mates and soulful union are wonderful. But so is passion."
Nate closed his eyes, tilted his head back and continued to listen.
"How can I advise women to look for emotional compatibility when I myself have discovered my perfect man through our physical relationship? Yes, it happened backward. Yes, it's against everything I've ever believed. But it's true. Passion simply overwhelmed me. Desire wore down my resistance until I was vulnerable and open to loving him and allowing him to love me. To awaken me."
Nate opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling.
"There's no question I love him. I don't know what will happen next. I don't know if there will be a tomorrow, much less a happily ever after. But I do know I can no longer pretend a woman is above her passions, in control of her physical desires. I'm certainly not. I'd be a liar and a hypocrite to say I am. He controls my body and owns my soul, for as long as he wants either one of them."
On the tape, Lacey's voice continued, reading more of her article, more of the research, interview quotes and statistics. Nate had stopped listening. He no longer cared about anything else. Anything except what she'd admitted, to him on the tape, and to the world in her article.
"I love you, too, Lacey."
* * *
Lacey's legs were on the verge of falling asleep as she sat in the upstairs hallway of Nate's building. She'd waited for over an hour—since the delivery man had delivered her package—for Nate to emerge. Still nothing. "Good grief, what are you doing in there?" she muttered. She'd expected—well, she'd hoped—that he'd come barreling out the door the minute he finished listening to the tape. No such luck.
Finally, when it appeared she was going to have to bite the bullet and knock on the door herself, it was yanked open.
"Hi," she whispered from her position on the floor in the hall. Nate had stepped out of his apartment, his keys in his hand, his hair damp as if he'd just emerged from the shower.
"Lacey?" He dropped to his knees beside her on the floor. "Have you been waiting long?"
She nodded. "I gave the delivery man an extra-large tip to not let on that I was here."
Grabbing her hands, he pulled her up and led her into his apartment. His eyes devoured her, yet his hands touched hers so gently. "I listened to the tape," he said.
"I read your article," she admitted.
He waited.
"I don't think my father's going to be very happy with either one of us," she continued with a tiny smile.
He threw his head back and laughed.
"Did you