One to Hold (One to Hold 1)

It was the perfect detour, and she immediately launched into the different options I might choose. That led to the topic of gifts, so I pulled out my Macbook. We spent the next few hours looking at pin boards and making lists, until she announced it was late.

I walked her out, promising to drive in and spend the night with her the next weekend—we could complete our lists, do some shopping. For a few moments I stood outside in the cold air, listening to the waves crashing far off and watching the taillights of her car fade into the distance.

Slowly I went back inside and put our dishes in the dishwasher. Our champagne flutes were still in front of the fireplace, but I was tired. I walked to my bedroom ready to wash my face and slip between the cool sheets. Halfway there, I heard a noise in the kitchen. A banging as if a window were falling.

“Mom?” I called, swiftly going back down the hall. “Did you forget something?”

The scream was out of my mouth before a thought registered in my brain. Sloan stood in the kitchen doorway, backlit by the yellow lights. “It’s only me, hon.”

I dashed into the living room and ran around the couch, putting as much space between us as possible. Quickly, I scanned my room for anything to use as a weapon. All I saw was a lamp.

“S-Sloan…” I caught my breath, struggling to keep my voice calm, not fearful. Authoritative and not yielding my ground. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s not very a welcoming remark,” he said, with a grin, a wicked glint in his eye. “We’re supposed to show guests that southern hospitality, aren’t we?”

“What do you want?” I reached for the lamp, resting my hand on the neck and waiting.

“Nice place,” he said, surveying my new home. “I see you got your divorce papers today. Not celebrating, I hope.”

Fear stole the air from my lungs as he quickly crossed the room to me. I snatched up the lamp, but he caught my wrist, jerking it and sending the fixture crashing to the floor. I tried to pull my arm away, but he held it fast, turning me so my back was pressed firmly against his chest.

“You bet I’m celebrating,” I grunted, struggling to free myself from his grip. “My time with you is over. Legally. And forever.”

He only held me closer, wrapping my other arm around my waist and holding me still. “And what are you telling all your old friends about our divorce? That I slept with prostitutes? That I beat you?”

I shivered with dread as his breath whooshed across the back of my neck. “No,” I said, fighting to keep my voice calm, to stay in control. “I figured that was too much information.”

He laughed. “I’ll say. Especially since it was all your fault.”

I struggled so hard to get away from him, my shoulders ached. Finally I gave up. I’d have to out-think him. I wasn’t strong enough to overpower him. For starters, I wouldn’t fall for his tricks. He knew as well as I did what happened that night. And whose fault it was.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” I said. “What do you want?”

His voice was right at my ear. “I want you, of course. You’re incredibly sexy as a single woman. And we never said a proper goodbye.”

His grip loosened on my arms, and I jerked them both free. He only caught me by the waist and pulled me back. “I hope you’re not planning to fight me again. You know I’ll win.”

My stomach lurched, and I hated the dread his words triggered in me. I had to calm my mind, I had to think. Somehow, I had to throw him off and then make my escape.

Taking a deep breath, and closing my eyes for a moment, I relaxed my fighting. I imagined getting a gift on Christmas morning, happy feelings. I tried to make my voice sound like I was having a pleasant realization.

“You’re saying you want to spend the night here?” I was all innocence now. “I guess that’s a good idea. You’re pretty far from Baltimore, and it’s very late.”

The smile returned to his voice and he released me. “To be clear, my dear, I’m not just looking to spend the night. I’m looking to fuck somebody. Namely you. I vaguely recall you’re not too bad in the sack.”

I swallowed the tightness in my throat and turned to face him. “But I don’t understand. Why me? Why not call an escort service?” My eyes flickering around the room, double-checking for something to hit him with. “You know you prefer them.” The words were bitter on my tongue, but I was playing a part, buying time.

“Thanks for your concern about my satisfaction,” he said, lifting an empty champagne flute and sniffing it. “But I confess, my interest in you is renewed now that you’ve added an ‘ex’ to your prefix. You’re still a hot little piece of ass. Oh, and I wanted to let you know, I’m aware you’ve got someone keeping tabs on me.”

My mind was still working, trying to figure out an escape plan, but that made me pause. “I don’t have anyone watching you.”

“Whatever you say,” he breathed, unbuttoning his shirt. “But I’m not an idiot, darling.” He pulled the shirt tail out of his pants and started toward me.

I’d given up on finding a weapon. Tomorrow I was buying a bat, but for now, I had to get out of this house. I grabbed my empty flute and headed for the kitchen.

“I’ll fix us both a drink. White or red?” My plan at this point was to run for it—even if it was into the dark night, even if it was bitterly cold, and I’d probably end up lost. I’d figure that out once I was away.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” he called after me.