Free Into the Storm by Ruth D. Kerce Page A

She hated
storms.
    The doorbell rang, and she jumped. "Dang it!"
Her nerves were shot, and the storm had just started. Bad weather
always did that to her, ever since she'd been a little girl and had
gotten locked out of the house during a lightning storm.
    She started down the hall. "Who would be
crazy enough to get out in this?" She made her way to the front
door and peeked out the side window. "Oh, I don't believe
this."
    She unlatched the chain, turned the lock, and
pulled open the door. "Nathan, what are you doing here?"
    "Am I early?"
    "Early?" She glanced past him, expecting to
maybe see more people from the office, but nobody else was around.
Him suddenly showing up -- alone -- seemed quite coincidence, given
her thoughts had been on him all day.
    He huddled beneath a soggy newspaper. "Can I
come in?"
    "Oh, yes, of course." Val stepped back from
the door and motioned him inside. "You're soaked." His hair was
plastered to his head, despite the newspaper covering, and water
ran down his face.
    He tossed the paper out the door, then rubbed
his arms, obviously chilled. "Bad timing tonight."
    Looking at the wet floor beneath his feet,
she shut the door. "You didn't answer me. Why in the world are you
here in this storm?" No off-site business meeting had been
scheduled that she knew of.
    "For our date."
    "Date?" Her head snapped up. "What date?"
Even though she'd asked, she already knew the answer and couldn't
believe she hadn't immediately put the pieces together upon seeing
him. Frustration tightened her chest. Janine!
    He glanced at her sweats. "I thought we had a
date tonight."
    "I'm going to kill her," Val muttered.
"You're dripping over everything." Her voice cracked, and she
sounded surly, but she couldn't help herself.
    He wiped his face, and a line of water
trailed off his elbow. "Sorry."
    She held up her hand in a halting motion.
"Don't move from this spot." She rushed down the hall as the lights
flickered. She hoped the electricity wasn't going. That would be
all she needed.
    "Did I get the wrong night?" Nathan shouted
after her.
    "You could say that," she answered, raising
her voice so he could hear her. A moment later, she reappeared with
a cloth robe. "Drop 'em."
    His eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
    "Your clothes. Peel 'em off and put this on."
She handed him the robe. "I've got to check on dinner." With a
shake of her head, she rushed off. Janine was in major trouble. She
was going to put glue in that girl's lip gloss, so she'd keep her
mouth shut for once in her life.
    "What do you want me to do with my clothes?"
he called out.
    "Toss them in the dryer. The laundry room's
on your right." She set two places at the kitchen table. She
couldn't very well kick Nathan out. She wouldn't send anyone back
into that storm. Not until his clothes dried anyway.
    On the bright side, with the worsening
weather, she was actually happy for the company. She wouldn't be as
afraid with someone else here.
    At the sound of a cough, she turned. Nathan
stood in the doorway. He looked, well, yummy and very natural
standing there in the robe, like he belonged. The robe fit him
perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist. "Hi,"
she greeted.
    "Hi, yourself." A wary look crossed his face.
"This obviously isn't yours. Is some guy going to kick me in the
ass for wearing his robe?"
    Val chuckled. "It's my brother's. He forgot
it the last time he visited from California. Sit down. Pizza's
almost ready."
    He pulled out a chair and sat. "Have we been
set up by Janine, or did you really tell her that you wanted to
have dinner with me?"
    "She said that?" She took two bottles of beer
out of the refrigerator and set them on the table.
    "Yep, that's what she said."
    "We've been set up." She pulled the pizza out
of the oven and slid the pieces onto a platter in the center of the
table. "Help yourself." She sat across from him.
    Nathan picked up a gooey slice of cheese and
pepperoni and placed it onto her plate.
    The polite gesture touched