Worlds Apart Read online

  Worlds Apart

  Marlene Dotterer

  Copyright © 2013 by Marlene Dotterer

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover design by Laura Shinn

  All rights reserved. No Part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be submitted online at www.marlenedotterer.wordpress.com/contact.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, places, organizations, events, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination.

  Acknowledgments

  This book is a departure from my previous stories and I have to confess to some nerves about it. Perhaps that’s why I corralled so many people into reading it for me, to catch mistakes and express opinions. I owe beer to a lot of people.

  The brave critiquers at the Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror (OWW) saw the earliest version and gave enthusiastic approval (yes, I’m talking about you, Rhonda!), as well as spot-on criticisms that made the story better. Rhonda Garcia, Amy Raby, David Fortier, Jesse Bangs, and Darke Conteur remain faithful friends and good judges these many years later. I’m a little surprised at how many years it has been.

  I was thrilled to have a fan volunteer to read for me. I can’t imagine a better vote of confidence. So a big “thank you!” to Ann Bresnan, and her daughter Shay Bresnan, for kudos on what worked, and honest criticism for what didn’t. Both of you had awesome ideas!

  Closer to home, it turned out I was a dangerous person to know. My dear, dear friends, Melani Menendez-Barretto, Carol Valladao, and Diana Swantek lent me their time and their eyesight to catch all those errors I always miss. They did some amazing work and I am very grateful!

  Thank you to my SFF crit group, Ed Miracle, Lani Longshore, and Jordan Bernal, who always catch my adverbs, and are relentless about point of view. You help me look like a real writer. Let’s have champagne!

  Chapter 1

  An itch started in the back of Tina Cassidy’s neck, spread to her shoulders, and turned into a shudder as it crawled down her spine. The e-mail on her screen was innocuous: a patient, Kathy Brayley, described symptoms of intestinal distress, which hit her entire family before dawn. That they had fevers made it a bit more serious than most stomach ailments, but that was not enough to cause such a feeling of foreboding.

  She called Kathy and arranged to obtain stool samples from each of them. Maybe the extra step would calm her nerves.

  After a brief conversation with the patient, Tina typed up a quick note, shaking off one more shiver of unease. Then she put it out of her mind while she saw her scheduled patients. Shortly before closing, another family called with the same symptoms.

  There was no reason to think the two cases might be related.

  ~~

  Tina headed home after teaching a diabetes nutrition class at the library, her mind already turning to the evening ahead.

  Change clothes, eat some dinner, and play with Beowulf for a few minutes, then I need some time at Eddie’s.

  Her body wanted a night at the club in Portland, but she was working tomorrow. A few drinks, one or two games of pool, and some dancing were all she’d get tonight.

  It would do.

  After a few minutes of teasing her black cat with a string and flashlight, she stood in her underwear in her bedroom closet, tapping her nose as she decided what to wear. She was drawn to the new black dress, but it was far too naughty for an evening at Eddie’s with men she considered friends.

  With a last glance at the dress, she turned to the casual section of her closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater. The sweater was pleasingly snug, with a daring plunge to the neckline. The deep blue set off her black hair and made her brown eyes appear larger under her arched brows. A glance in the full-length mirror told her she looked sexy, but not so much that she’d distract her friends.

  It was just too bad there wasn’t anyone to distract her.

  ~~

  Maybe it was the Wild Turkey, but Tina made the mistake of playing pool a little too well. Or more likely, Mike Ormand’s prodigious beer drinking caused him to play a little too badly. Either way, he lost his temper over something and raised his arms to shake them at her.

  Unfortunately, he still had his cue stick in his hand. Tina could see he’d forgotten he was holding it and she backed against the table behind her, keeping her eye on the waving rod. Glasses clinked behind her. From his perch on a stool, Jake Wilson slipped an arm around her waist and patted her hip. “Easy there, darlin’.” His words slurred in her ear. “Don’t wanna be spillin’ the slop, now do you?”

  Tina ignored him. Mike stepped closer, towering a foot above her head, the cue still waving.

  “Now Mike,” she said, “that was a fair shot and you know it. The ball went in the pocket nice and easy. It was just pure luck that your four-ball got hit out of the way.”

  Mike tended to be slow after a few drinks, so he gave her words some thought. Tina sensed Jake was ready to pull her out of the way if the cue inched closer. His swaying upper body gave her doubt as to his usefulness in that regard.

  She was surprised when a light baritone broke into their tableau. “I beg you, sir. For the sake of your fellow men, please reconsider your actions.”

  “Huh?” Mike turned to the fellow who stood beside him, but he didn’t lower the stick. Tina glanced without moving her head. The stranger was a few inches shorter than Mike, clean-shaven, with light brown hair, and wearing a trim suede-leather jacket. That's all she noticed, since she felt it was important to keep an eye on Mike.

  “I beg you,” the man repeated, “not to mar the beauty we all find so entertaining. If you hit her with your cue, there will be a bruise. We will all be disappointed.”

  Asshole, Tina thought.

  The man continued, his voice becoming grim. “Of course, if I see the smallest indication that you might actually hit her, I would prevent your action. You would not be pleased with the result.”

  Okay, maybe not an asshole.

  Mike lowered the cue and shrugged. “Wouldn't really hit her,” he said in a whiny tone. “But she's robbin' me blind, and she knows I got kids to feed. She's got no heart.”

  A couple of nearby customers guffawed at this and Tina rolled her eyes, sliding away from Jake to put the table between her and Mike. “Hearts and pool are two different games,” she said. “You didn't ask to play hearts.”

  “Tell you what.” The stranger placed his half-empty glass on Jake’s table. “I'll take your spot for this game. Give you time to relax and get your arm back. If I win, you get the pot. If I lose, I'll pay your ante and you're out nothing.”

  Mike wasn't that slow. “Why in hell would you do that? You don't know me from Adam.”

  The stranger's smile relaxed as he offered an innocent shrug. “I'm not doing it for you. I've been trying to figure out how to get this woman's attention for an hour. You're obviously regulars, and you know each other well. I couldn't find an opportunity to break in until you lost your temper.” He turned to Tina with a slight bow. “If the lady is willing to give me a game?”

  Tina’s lips twitched in respon
se to the raucous laughter this provoked, and she gave him a thorough look. He was cute, in a scruffy kind of way. Straight brown hair hung over his forehead. His eyes were an interesting golden-brown, his face a bit craggy, as if his skin had a story to tell. Full lips that were downright inviting. His body was trim, almost too skinny. She figured he was thirty, maybe thirty-five.

  And just might make up for missing Portland.

  She crossed her arms. “All right. But you have to play me a second time. Double ante.”

  He took Mike's cue. “I believe it's your inning?” He gestured toward the pool table.

  He looked her over as she came around the table. She stopped a few feet from him, giving him plenty of time to see what he wanted, not hiding her own casual observation. His eyes met hers just as Jake chortled “she's found some fresh meat,” which was heard over the crowd's ribald encouragement. She smiled and stepped closer. “Welcome to Green Roads, Oregon, Mr…?” She tilted her head and held out her hand. The laughter quieted down as the others waited to hear his name.

  His smile was for her alone, but he answered so everyone could hear. “Clive Winslow. At your service.” His smile deepened as the crowd hooted its approval of his phrasing. His hand squeezed hers, warm and gentle.

  Tina suppressed the rising inner flame his touch ignited and imitated his formality. “Tina Cassidy,” she said with a dip of her head. She dropped his hand and strolled to the pool table to pick up her cue before glancing back at him. Yes, he just might make up for Portland. “Services to be determined.”

  Chapter 2

  Tina Cassidy surprised him.

  Clive was not expecting anything interesting as he drove into Green Roads. The four-wheel drive he'd rented in Portland made light work of the steep paths off the I-5. He was in Oregon on business, and Green Roads was the town nearest his final destination. The rain was cold and he was hungry when he pulled into the parking lot of Eddie’s tavern. He'd already booked a room. At eight o'clock on a Friday night, the tavern was crowded, but he wasn't going to fight the weather to find a quiet place to eat. He tossed his bag in his room and went down to the bar, taking a small table in a corner and digging into a west coast version of Yankee Pot Roast.

  Halfway through his meal, he noticed her. She was hard to miss. A crowd favorite, judging by the cheers and calls that accompanied her arrival. He perked up to see her, although at first he wasn't thinking about picking her up. She was just nice to watch, a confident, pretty woman, poured into her clothes, with an easy laugh and teasing manner. She was about five-five, thirtyish, with dark brown and gold-streaked hair that kissed her shoulders when she moved. Her aura intrigued him. There was something about it that hinted at magic, and he wondered if she knew about that part of herself. Some Flatlanders did have magic abilities, although Clive rarely saw them.

  He watched an apparent ritual unfold as she flirted with all the guys and they brightened under her attention. None of them had a chance in hell with her, and they all seemed to know it.

  Then she started playing pool.

  He watched her bending over the table from various angles, sometimes catching a glimpse down the 'v' of her sweater, sometimes the curve of her profile. Best of all was when her round ass was offered to his view, and he prayed she'd take her time setting up the shot. He didn't know if he had a chance with her either, and for a while, he knew he couldn't risk finding out. Standing would have been too embarrassing.

  But when the big guy she was playing started yelling and brandishing his cue, Clive saw his chance. Judging from the crowd's reaction, he didn't think she was in danger, but the distraction helped settle his erection, and he figured a stranger might calm down the bully. And damned if it didn't work out better than he hoped.

  She’s a Flatlander, warned the voice in his head. She doesn’t know what you are. He quashed the voice, and once their pool games were over and she was in his arms on the dance floor, it was silenced for good. There was no room for anything beyond his intention to urge her into bed.

  There was little doubt of that. She seemed as hungry as he was for companionship. Despite her flirting, she wouldn't cross a particular line of chaste behavior around her friends. He could accept that. She wasn't a whore, she was just a nice girl who lived and worked with these people, and he knew to treat her with respect. But he hoped she knew the restraints came off once he got her alone.

  That happened sooner than he expected. About ten-thirty, they moved into a slow number and he pulled her into a tight hold, watching her face. She didn't move away when his arms loosened. She swayed against him, pressing into him with deliberate movements.

  He bent to whisper in her ear. “Uncle, uncle. Have mercy, Tina.”

  She laughed, tilting her head to look up at him. “I don't want to hurry things, but I have to work tomorrow. This can't be a late night for me.”

  A rush of disappointment left him dizzy. He had hoped for several hours with her. This was a woman who deserved thoughtful, intense, and varied loving, and he'd been making some very specific plans. Now it sounded like they were heading for a quickie and goodnight.

  Damn.

  Still, he'd be a fool not to take what she offered. “Well then,” he said, still swaying with her. “I have a room upstairs. Perhaps we can dance there.”

  “Which room? I'll meet you there in a few minutes.”

  For a wild moment, he thought she was going to skip out and have a laugh with her friends at his expense. But her eyes were dreamy as she smiled at him. Maybe she just didn't want to be seen leaving with him, which was kind of silly. He was aware there was a betting pool going around and she had to know about it, too.

  “Room six,” he said.

  She nodded and stepped away, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Grab our drinks. I'll be up in five minutes.”

  ~~

  It was a new moon tonight. Clive stared at the clouds for a moment before closing the blinds on his room’s window. Nothing to worry about, he said to the voice in his head. If his warning system had a retort, it faded under the knock on the door.

  His desire rose at the sight of her. He watched her place her coat and purse on the corner chair, warring against his conflicting needs. He wanted her now, fast and hard. But he also wanted to explore every inch of her, to build her pleasure bit by bit as he tasted her deepest places, to watch her eyes as she came beneath him. Would he have time?

  She stayed by the chair and looked him over, her lips curving upward in a smile of pleased anticipation. He took her hands and pulled her toward him, losing himself in her eyes. She tugged her hands free and reached up to caress his face, her fingers a feather of warmth against his skin. His guard crumbled under her touch, and when she brushed her thumbs over his lips, he grabbed her, and crushed his mouth into hers.

  That kiss undid him as if she'd pulled a string that held him together. The feel of her, her smell, her essence surrounded him, filling him with their matching passion. Thought vanished along with their clothes. Every flick of her tongue claimed him. Every touch of her hands sliced him open by her simple act of giving.

  She'd been quite clear that this night was for fun. Yet when he looked at her now, her aura pulsed with a braided mix of deep compassion and giving. She gave of herself with every caress, a tiny flow from her soul to his, igniting more than passion in him. Did she know she was doing it? Why would she give so much to a stranger? She didn't know her danger, what he was. He knew he should stop her, try to bring this back to a fun night of inconsequential sex. But his need for human connection won out, and he fell back on the bed, pulling her onto him.

  She settled herself on top of him and began a slow track across his chest, soft nibbles that sent shivers into his stomach and down every nerve in his groin. He squeezed her bottom, enjoying its round perfection. Her teeth on his nipple invited him to squeeze harder, but as she glided to the other nipple, he moaned and slid his hands up to her head.

  Her hair was soft and its waves tangled in his fing
ers. He sensed her willingness to follow his lead. He moaned again in agonized indecision, then tightened his hold on her head and lifted it, to lose himself in her lips.

  His soul had never been touched like this. He had no resistance. Her kiss was hard, but her arms slid around him with gentle regard. He gave in, pushing her onto her back. Rolling with her, he took control of her mouth and lifted her leg.

  He knew he was rushing, that she might protest or mock him later. But he growled deep in his throat as he buried himself in her, reveling in her gasp. She lifted her hips to guide him deeper, her damp tightness raising his throbbing nerves to jangling pain. It was impossible to be gentle. He thrust hard, over and over, lost in her as he pressed. She stiffened at the same moment she took his ear lobe into her mouth, her probing tongue softening her shout of pleasure.

  When he felt her breathe again, he rose up to look into her eyes. He pulled back, pausing before pushing hard into her, then again as his climax reached her innermost curves. He thrust again, before forcing all his weight onto those few inches of heaven, and trembled with the swells of his release.

  He lay gasping into her neck. She wrapped her legs around him and released her grip on his bottom, sliding her hands up his back in a soft caress. Their breathing slowed and she turned her head, meeting his lips with a deep kiss. Her tenderness broke his heart with longing to experience it again.

  But he had nothing to offer her in return. He could give her pleasure for this one night, and he would do that to the best of his ability.