Chapter 15

Earth, Wind, and Fire

W hen we entered the lounge in fresh shirts void of absorbed sweat, a sassy extrovert warbled out the lyrics to September by Earth, Wind, and Fire at the microphone. She was old enough to have danced to the song at her senior prom and without a reserved bone in her gyrating body. Because she wore a joyful expression living out her fantasy moment of superstardom, I smiled and reached for Winter's hand.

She bounced as she clutched it tightly, lest I dare try to pull it away, and beamed at me in delight.

"There's a table," Tammy directed and pounced like a starving lion on a gazelle, ready to fend off any scavengers.

She waved us over with a triumphant grin. The tinny sound of canned synthesizers, drums, and brass filled the room, and the jubilant, older woman blasted out, "Ba dee ah!" flinging a hand in an arc over her head.

We were back to being a party of five again, as R.B. and Jeri were already sitting with Marty and another woman I didn't know. I had learned a few additional names and faces today, but my brain was spinning with too many other bizarre facts for me to focus on anything. I'm attracted to a younger, petite nerd who's traveled in space, who is a virgin, and someone might want to kill me. Oh, and will I or won't I win an award tomorrow night? I congratulated myself for remembering my own name.

The four of us gathered around the table Tammy had procured and ordered drinks. This time, Winter played it safe with a light beer. I hadn't mentioned she'd called me a tree after downing a hurricane last night because it had just been so cute. Not wishing to keep everyone waiting, I'd quickly freshened up and changed my red pullover for a marbled teal and white casual top Alice had called "Trendy yet unique."

Taking my advice, Winter changed into skinny jeans and a charcoal T-shirt with a fun font displaying, "Reading is Lit" dancing above a white graphic of an open book—normal, while still expressive.

We chatted, flirted, and nursed our drinks while conference women—alone or in pairs—claimed the microphone to sing a favorite tune. Some sounded fabulous enough to make a career of it, and others projected a voice only a mother could tolerate.

When she was on her second beer, Winter turned a coy expression on me. "What shall I sing for you?"

"Oh, you can sing too?" I teased. "Did you sing on the space shuttle, entertain the rest of the crew? What other surprises do you have waiting to spring on me?"

She batted her lashes and grinned, revealing nothing. "You'll have to wait and see. Now, give me a song."

Gazing into her big, blue eyes, and aching to touch her, I couldn't think of a single song title—karaoke or otherwise. "You're good at surprising me," I said. "You choose."

With an energetic bounce, she hopped away to get in line for the mike.

Elaine leaned in and cupped her hand to her mouth. "I think she really likes you. What are you going to do about it?"

What indeed? I considered. "I'm certainly not planning to break her heart if that's what you mean. She's a delightful elf and a freaking robot engineer."

"Not who you're accustomed to dating, huh?"

"You mean sweet, loyal, protective, and innocent?" I replied. "Nope. A step up from my usual." In an instant, I realized how true a statement it was. Even Tracy, as much as she loved me, wasn't willing to give me the time I needed to come out of the closet. And my other girlfriends? Honestly, there hadn't been that many. They had either been too absorbed with their problems, wishing me to fix everything for them, or they'd been leaps and bounds ahead of me, impatient when I couldn't keep up. I had to remind myself I'd only just met Winter. I didn't know if she saw a psychiatrist each week to keep her mental illnesses in check or if she was so creative and intelligent that she'd become bored with me in a week. But more and more, I wanted to find out.

Everyone clapped for the act that finished, and Winter took the microphone. With fearlessness I seldom could evoke, she announced, "So, I'm just singing this song for somebody, and I hope she knows it's for her." A familiar-sounding musical introduction started, and she took a deep breath. Referring to the words on the screen, with frequent glances at our table, Winter belted out Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me with convincing fervor.

Talk about being overcome with warm fuzzies! If I'd been standing, I would have felt the earth move under my feet. Instead, I sensed another brick crumble from my protective wall. The last time anyone sang a song for me was Bobby Templeton in the ninth grade. Winter was a breath of fresh air to a lonely soul. Her gesture was so hopelessly romantic that once again I found myself torn between my desires to ravish her and to protect her heart from emotional harm.

When she returned to our table, we all offered her another round of applause. "I didn't know you could sing!" Tammy exclaimed with a smile as broad as her shoulders.

"What a fun performance," praised Beth. "I loved all the facial expressions and gestures like you were in a music video."

"And you claim to be shy," Elaine added in jovial accusation.

"Yeah, well, I can only do something like that with the aid of alcohol," Winter laughed. She plopped back into her chair, and I enveloped her in a friendly hug, followed by a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you," I said, igniting a pink flush on her pixie face. At the risk of getting lost in her admiring gaze, I looked her straight in her electric blues and said, "I see you, Winter." Whirled about by a cyclone of emotions, I laughed, shrugged my shoulders, and added in humorous diversion, "And, besides—sneakers are more practical than heels."

Winter joined my laughter, swinging her sneaker-clad feet back and forth while gripping the edge of her chair. With a smug smile, she teased, "How do you know it was for you? I could have been singing to that hot chick over there across the room."

I glanced in the general direction she tossed her head. "Which one? I may have to throttle her, rough up the competition."

Giggling, Winter turned a playful aspect back to me and downed the last swallow of her beer. As she cradled the bottle, inspecting its brown hue, she radiated vibrations of joy and delight that coiled their tendrils around me, drawing me into their web. It had been a long time since I'd felt so appreciated and wanted. It's possible that I'd never felt such a pure emotion from another person. Lust, desire, bitterness, and rage, yes. Others had directed extreme and potent feelings toward me in the past; however, what I sensed from Winter was genuinely baffling.

Winter can't love me. She doesn't even know me. She really doesn't know me. And if she did, what then? Disappointment. I needed to nip this in the bud, or I'd be the one with the broken heart.

"OK, our turn, honey," Tammy declared, drawing my attention away from the woman at my side to the one across the table. She stood up, drained her bottle, and slapped it down with a satisfied, "Ahhh."

Beth hit her joystick and maneuvered away from the table. "Our usual?"

"If you like," Tammy replied, motioning for Beth to take the lead. Twisting over her shoulder, she commanded, "Y'all better clap and cheer."

"Of course we will," I replied in feigned indignation.

"They are hilarious," Elaine assured Winter and me. "They have this routine they do at all the conferences." For no apparent reason, Elaine's face screwed up in a confused frown. "What's that?"

My gaze followed a line from her pointed finger to a folded piece of paper resting on the other side of Winter. I didn't remember it being there when she got up to sing. But ever since she did—no, ever since we walked in—I'd been absorbed with Winter, my awareness wrapped in her to the neglect of anything else.

Winter's joyous expression dimmed, and she snatched it up. When I saw her eyes round and her mouth fall agape, I plucked the paper away from her.

"Now, on the side terrace. Let's settle this." My impulse was to crush the note and hurl it far away, but it was handwritten. Detective Campbell would want to run tests on it. "Fingerprints," I absently said aloud.

"Here." Elaine opened her purse and fished out a plastic bag. "Don't move your fingers. Just drop it in here."

I obeyed, sparing her a scrutinizing look. "What all do you keep in that purse?"

Elaine met my eyes without humor. "A little bit of everything. You aren't thinking about going."

"I certainly am," I declared. At the microphone, Tammy and Beth launched into their rendition of Elton John and Kiki Dee's duet, Don't Go Breaking My Heart . Oh, the timing. The irony!

"Look," I stated with determination. "This needs to stop. I'm going to see who meets me on the patio, find out what her problem is, what she wants, and do whatever I have to." I bolted up with ire and resolve surging through my veins. "Don't worry; I can handle myself."

Winter flew to her feet, matching my gaze with fiery fortitude. "Fine, but I'm going with you."

Securing her palms on the table, Elaine pushed up and straightened her back with obvious effort. "And so am I."

"Look, y'all," I started.

"No, it's settled." Elaine's stern declaration was accompanied by her resolute expression. "If you go anywhere, we're going with you."

"Besides, if anything happens or if she says something incriminating, you'll need witnesses," Winter added sensibly. "Aspen." She secured a surprisingly forceful grip around my upper arm, drawing my gaze to hers. "I won't let her hurt you."

" I won't let her hurt you ." I didn't like this at all. They shouldn't be so stubborn.

Tammy and Beth crooned, "Don't go breakin' my, don't go breakin' my …"

"And I won't let her hurt either of you," Elaine proclaimed. "So, are we going to stand here all night?"

Together, three unlikely musketeers marched down the hall from the lounge, taking the same route I had when I fled the room on Thursday night. A glass door opened from the hall into a small room with vending machines, an icemaker, and recycling bins. It also held a cushioned bench, while drapes dangled to the floor, framing windows overlooking the patio. Even this service corridor was decorated with an illustrious French painting in an elaborate white and gold frame.

The entry door closed behind us as we strode through to the metal door with a long handle leading outside. However, when I yanked to pull it open, my arm almost jarred out of its socket. Winter and Elaine bumped into me from behind. I scowled at the door and tried pushing, pulling, and rattling it.

"Stupid door's locked! It was open Thursday night. Didn't my idiot stalker even check to see if the door was unlocked before telling me to meet her out there?"

Winter stepped to the side and peered out the window onto the picturesque terrace. "There's nobody out there."

"Figures," I muttered in disgust. "She's just messing with me. Come on; let's go."

I led my protectors back past the machines and the comfy bench that lay under the watchful gaze of an eighteenth-century courtly gala. But when I pressed the handle, nothing happened. I pulled, pushed, twisted, and still the door wouldn't budge. I was getting a bad feeling about this.

"Does anyone else smell something off?" Elaine asked as she took a step back and sniffed the air. "I have a very discerning nose, and—" She stopped talking to gasp.

In an instant, the draperies burst into flame, followed in quick succession by the carpet and the cushioned bench. Small space, fire, and no way out. This was an intentionally set deathtrap!