Free Forever by Linda Cassidy Lewis Page B

folded the pages, and shoved them into his back pocket without a glance. What the hell was going on? Why was he here with a woman who couldn’t stop jabbering about some man who lived and died nearly two hundred years ago?
    “I have more to tell you,” she said.
    “Is it about Jacob?”
    “Yes. I looked—”
    “I don’t want to hear it.” Seeing her hurt frown, he softened. “Not right now.”
    “All right.”
    He said nothing else for a moment, and she sat quietly, looking down at her fingers shredding a paper napkin she’d found lying on the table.
    “What’s going on, Tom? I thought we had a great time last night at—”
    He shoved back his chair and shot to his feet. “I’ve got to go.”
    “Tom . . . wait.”
    He didn’t turn back, or even hesitate as he stalked through the lobby.
     
    As the doors closed behind him, Annie jumped up to follow. She caught up with him as he was about to get in his truck. “Tom, please . . . don’t be angry with me. I don’t know why I . . . I’m confused.”
    He turned toward her, looking as miserable as she felt. “Annie, I can’t—” His jaw snapped shut. Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and bruised her lips under a fierce kiss.
    For a second, she was stunned. Oh God. I can’t breathe . He’s going to crush me against this wall . With pure primal instinct she shoved Tom back against the truck with all her strength and spun away from him.
    He burst out an apology. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I—” He broke off and reached one hand toward her. “Annie?”
    His voice filtered through to her and she struggled to focus on his face. This was Tom, not Gary. Tom was only trying to show his love. He wasn’t trying to attack her, to rape her, to punish her.
    “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I didn’t mean to do that—I’ve scared you.”
    “It’s all right . . . you didn’t know . . . you—”
    “Didn’t know what?”
    She waved his question away and glanced toward the theater. “I’ve got to get back to work. Could we talk . . . later? Could you call me after I get home tonight?”
    Not waiting for his response, Annie turned and ran back toward the theater.
     
    Tom stood by his truck for several minutes after Annie left, trying to figure out what the hell had happened in the last half-hour. Not until two women, getting out of the car in the parking spot opposite his, gave him curious looks did he climb into his truck and start the engine. As he drove home, he tried to make sense of his going to the theater. And then— jeezus —he’d grabbed Annie and kissed her. What the hell?
    He had no memory of his thoughts leading up to that action. The whole meeting seemed unreal. As he drove, trying to reconstruct his afternoon, his hand went to his forehead. With a shock, he realized he was pain free. He’d started for home because of a killer headache, but then what? He could barely remember leaving the construction site. Why had he ended up at the theater? He’d driven there for—
    (For what?)
    To see what she’d found out about Jacob.
    (Liar. You were headed there before you knew about that.)
    Had he been? Yes. He’d wanted—needed—to see Annie, like a junkie jonesing for a fix. She’d become his illegal drug. Forbidden fruit. But he hadn’t found satisfaction. Instead, he’d resisted. He’d walked out. But then he’d acted like a brute and scared her. It was fear he’d seen on her face when she pushed him away, not anger or even disgust. It was terror.
    She’d said, “You didn’t know.”
    It dawned on him there was a lot he didn’t know about Annie. For all the talking they’d done in the past three days, she’d told him very little about herself. When he called her tonight, he would ask questions and not give up until she answered them.

8
    June 9, part two
    A s in most families with active teenagers, having dinner together was a hit and miss thing for the Cogans. Tonight was one of those rare