Thunder and Lightning

She still found it hard to believe her attraction to her sexy neighbor was the catalyst for the odd shift in weather. But every night when she looked at the weather maps displayed on TV that predicted something entirely different from what was experienced the following day, she couldn’t escape the fact that the freak storms just might be her doing.

Returning her attention to Cam, she fought to keep her mind on their conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him and she was almost sure she hadn’t. Rather, she liked to think that what she’d done was free him.

“Well, I know how much you wanted the job in Savannah,” he said with resignation in his voice. “I certainly can’t bemoan you following your dreams.”

“That’s very considerate and u

nderstanding of you.”

“And I know you never intended anything permanent with me. Marriage and children aren’t on your agenda, are they, Bev?”

She bit back a sigh. Hard to have children when one was immortal and whose “gift” would be revoked if anyone were to discover her secret.

Regardless of that deadly caveat, Bev could not even begin to fathom bringing something she loved with all her heart and soul into the world, only to watch a son or daughter deteriorate day after day until Death inevitably stole them from her. Her immortality was a random bestowment and there was no guarantee her children would inherit her genetic composition. And even if they did, once they discovered her secret… Again, it’d be all over for her.

As for marriage… How the hell would she ever explain to a husband that she didn’t age? Credit Botox, clean living and Pilates?

Of course not. Those excuses would only go so far. The cat would inevitably escape the bag and immortality as she knew it would slip through her fingers, taking with it whatever life she’d built for herself.

She had no choice but to own up to the reality of the situation. “That was never my dream,” she told Cam.

Though “owning up to reality” didn’t necessarily mean there was truth to her statement. Yet reality kept the walls erected around her. Kept her heart intact. Kept her sane—and alive—throughout the centuries. “Really, this all worked out the way it was meant to.”

“Yeah, but… You didn’t have to leave in the middle of the fucking night,” he repeated, but with much less frustration.

Bev smiled. “Actually, I did. I needed to be in the office first thing Monday morning and leaving in the middle of the night was the latest possible time for me to catch a flight and still meet my work commitment.”

Cam was quiet a moment, then said, “So you didn’t sneak off? You wanted every last second you could get.”

“I did. But now… Well. I’m happy here, Cam. I want you to let go of all of this and move on.”

“And you’ll be okay?” he asked, the concern thick in his voice.

Bev took another sip of her wine, tamping down the familiar twinge of guilt and loneliness she experienced when she left someone behind.

Forcing an even tone, she said, “Thank you for caring. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

She was a little over six hundred years old, after all. Not the thirty-one years he believed her to be. Leaving her companions was old hat for Bevelyn Goitia.

Though, admittedly, it never got easier.

“Now stop worrying about me. I’ll survive.” She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Have a good night, Cam.” And life. She disconnected the call.

It was officially over between them and, of course, she felt a sense of loss. But she wouldn’t contact Cam as the years passed, would instead tuck the memory of him away in the far recesses of her mind. Along with the others she’d left behind out of sheer necessity. Making her existence lonely and painful at times. But much less so than if she didn’t keep such a tight rein on her emotions and her heart’s desires.

Unfortunately, Bev had another human to keep at arm’s length. An unexpected attraction she’d felt from the moment she’d moved into her new home and had gotten that first glimpse of the hot-and-hunky Cane McAllister. Instantly, Bev had been seduced by his devilishly handsome looks, smoldering black eyes and powerful, sinewy body.

Despite the monumental threat he posed to her carefully crafted shield.

Setting aside her wine and ignoring the curriculum vitae of a new client—a downsized chief operating officer of a global corporation who would be difficult to place in a new position given the current economy—Bev crossed to the tall French doors along the west wall of her living room. They were cracked open and a warm, sticky breeze caressed her dewy skin and ruffled the white sheer curtains that covered the glass-and-wood panes.

As she stood before the opened doors, the thick, humid air enveloped her. The lazy rotations of the ceiling fans cooled the beads of perspiration forming along her hairline as she peered out at the veranda.

The evening heat was bearable only because it brought the scent of flowers in bloom that Bev couldn’t resist. Given her heritage, everything fresh and fragrant enticed her. She turned the air conditioner off at night so that she could open the doors and let the earthy smells filter in. The fans throughout the house hummed quietly and created a slight breeze that kept the rooms from being too sweltering to be tolerable.

Her long hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, keeping the strands off her neck. The white lace tank top and loose-fitting, dove-gray jersey lounging pants she wore were a good complement to the weather. Albany had been just as hot and insufferable in the summer, but there was much more to the rise in Bev’s internal temperature than the humid climate.

Focusing her eyes across the courtyard, her attention shifted to the object of her very intense—and highly forbidden—desire. Standing on his own veranda, his large hands wrapped tightly around the black, wrought iron railing, Cane McAllister seemed to be just as rigid and lost in thought as she’d been.