CHAPTER ONE
A tear slid down Melissa Malden's cheek. She swiped it away as she sat in her Escort and glared at the Lovin' Arms Apartments office and clubhouse. Light from an April sun, rising behind her, highlighted peeling, faded paint. What had she gotten herself into? She rubbed her right shoulder. It still ached from when Carleton Chase twisted her arm and demanded she give in to his sexual demands.
She sagged into the car seat, picked up the Lovin' Arms brochure she had been given in Chicago and looked at the shiny new clubhouse pictured there. It was a pleasing beige with dark brown trim. The building in the photo was fronted by brilliant flowers. Nothing but dead weeds in front of the place now.
And the location. The brochure said Naperton, in central Illinois. Actually the complex was five miles outside Naperton and surrounded by farm fields. Were the apartment buildings as run down as the clubhouse? Would she have any protection out here if Carleton Chase found her? She shuddered. If he did she was afraid she would kill him this time if he didn't kill her first. She drove around the clubhouse. Dead leaves and other debris filled a swimming pool behind it. Screeching tires jerked her attention back to the road. A red convertible raced toward her. She braced herself and squeezed her eyes shut as she pushed frantically on the brake pedal. Tires stopped squealing. Silence. She opened her eyes.
The convertible had stopped inches from the front of her car. She took a deep breath, sighed, folded her arms over the steering wheel, and lowered her head. A moment later a voice that seemed to rumble up from the earth asked, "Are you all right?"
She looked up into a man's dark, concerned eyes and his tanned face. Heavy black eyebrows arched below black untamed hair.
Why was this fool driving so fast when the posted speed limit, according to the sign nearby, was twenty-five miles an hour.
"What, who, I mean ... you were speeding. You nearly killed me," Melissa managed.
"You weren't looking where you were going. You were in my lane. Are you okay?"
The man's broad shoulders and chest muscles threatened to break the confines of a white T-shirt. Bulging biceps strained the sleeves. He towered over her. She felt dizzy. She wished the car door was open so she could escape.
"Want to get out of the car? See if anything is broken?"
He opened the door, held her under the left arm, and lifted her off the seat. He smelled of soap, as if he'd just taken a shower. She imagined water cascading off his massive chest, down past his flat stomach, and... She shook her head, looked up, and said, "I seem to be all right. Let go of me."
"No problem," he said. "I've got to get going then, if you're okay. Sorry I was driving so fast. I was in a hurry and didn't expect anyone around at this hour. If you're here to rent an apartment you'll have to come back about nine. Our new manager is supposed to show up today. She should be here by then."
He backed the convertible and drove slowly around her. A huge leather golf bag filled with clubs sat on the back seat. Its white leather matched the upholstery. The convertible roared out of sight as soon as it reached the country road. Melissa backed her car to in front of the clubhouse and sat there for a moment before digging into her purse to get the keys she had been given. Her image reflected in the glass of the front door of the clubhouse as she approached. My god, she thought. What must he think of me, seeing me in baggy blue jeans and this faded, oversized jacket? I look like a stuffed monkey.
"Does it make any difference," she said aloud. "You came here to escape from a monster. You're twenty-three years old. Your career has come to this? You haven't been here long enough to see your office or apartment, and already you worry about how you look. Better you should always look this way."
She glanced about and was relieved to see no one saw her talk to herself.
* * * *
Jud Wheeling saw a speed-limit sign beside the road and slowed the convertible. One more speeding ticket, he thought, and they'll suspend my license. I wouldn't need to speed if I wasn't always pressed for time. It was his father's fault, talking him into taking a job as a maintenance man in a run-down apartment complex.
His dad had been so reasonable. He said, "You're thirty years old, Jud. Your mother and I worry about you. Sure, there's enough money, it's not that. But don't play your life away. Take the challenge of this job, see if you can cope with real life problems as well as you do with games."
Jud had hated to admit it, even to himself, but his father was right. All the excitement of playing golf, going to sporting events and having affairs with the brittle women of his crowd had dwindled away. And the job would get him away from Addy. He didn't doubt that she would hunt him down, but at least he would be away from her for a while. Maybe, eventually, she would understand that it was over.
On the other hand, he didn't take this job and where it would lead to make him as narrow as his father, only thinking of profits, never having time to enjoy anything. And he didn't want to go back to college and study engineering again.
His dad had said, "It's time to settle down. You like to build things, repair things. Remember all the building sets you had when you were a kid? You could work at this run down property, Lovin' Arms. See if you can turn it back into a moneymaker. As a maintenance man you could learn the business from the ground up. You say you hate offices. This way you could be outside a lot, at least in the summer."
His mother nodded, her brown, doe eyes pleading. He couldn't refuse. They had spent so much effort trying to make him happy.
I'm cheating though, Jud thought as he pulled into the parking lot of Naperton's Bellwood Country Club. Playing golf won't get that place fixed up. At least I've been doing something though, fixing up one apartment at a time. He looked at his watch. It was five minutes past six, and he was late for his tee time. He didn't really care. He didn't feel like playing golf.
He was anxious to get back to Lovin' Arms. Why? Because of the woman in that little car he almost hit? She was a dumpy little thing, like a medicine ball in those ridiculously baggy clothes. He wondered what she looked like underneath. Her eyes. What color were they? Hey, hold on. Lose interest in golf and start on women again. No way. You promised to give this job a try. Get back there and do something. Clean out that pool, cover it, have it ready for the season opening.
"Damn, I'll have to go the library to learn how to take care of it. There ought to be enough money to hire someone, but no, I have to do these things myself. I promised.
"And now I'm talking to myself," Jud added. The sound of his voice evaporated into the air swishing past as he drove back to the apartments. He noted the Escort parked in front of the clubhouse and thought of stopping. She wasn't in the car. He wondered where she was. He hoped she would rent an apartment. Then he couldn't help it if he had to do some work around her place. But what was this? Since when was he interested in dumpy women? He tried to remember the color of her eyes. Blue, maybe.
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