If he had, he'd apparently just assumed she was too busy to answer. James hadn't even noticed that she was wearing someone else's clothes, or that her hair was wrapped up in a T-shirt.
The whir of the garage door closing sounded and she heaved a sigh and leaned against the kitchen counter, wondering when she and James had grown so far apart. He worked nights--twelve-hour shifts, 7:30 P.M. to 7:30 A.M.--Monday through Thursday. He left after dinner and arrived home between 8:00 and 8:30 in the morning, usually coming in just as she was leaving either for classes or for work herself. The weekends were the only time they had together, usually going out with friends Friday nights. He slept all day Saturdays and then played hockey with buddies Saturday night. Sundays they spent with their parents, his or hers on alternating weekends, visiting in the afternoons after he got up and then having Sunday dinner with them. Sunday night was the night they usually had sex.
Holly grimaced as she realized how regimented they were. Sex once a week, family once a week, friends once a week, work and school the rest of the time and precious little time alone together without friends or family around. Why was she surprised that he hadn't noticed she was missing?
She should be glad, Holly supposed. At least she didn't have to deal with the police and endless questions. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway drew her from her thoughts and she moved to peer out the window, eyes widening when she saw her own car parked there. No one was inside.
Pushing away from the counter, she hurried out of the kitchen and to the front door. There was no one in the driveway or on the sidewalk nearby when she rushed outside. Holly noted that as she rushed to the car; then her attention was taken up with the fact that the driver's-side window was missing, with just sharp bits of glass sticking out of the door frame. Groaning at how much it would cost to repair that, she opened the door and peered in, gasping when she saw her purse sitting on the passenger's seat with a folded piece of notepaper on top of it. Reaching in, she grabbed both items and quickly rifled through her purse until she found her wallet. Much to her relief all her credit and debit cards were still there.
Dropping the wallet back in her purse, Holly unfolded the notepaper and read the words scrawled on it.
Holly,
Sorry about the window. Anders didn't have keys and had to break it to get in. I'll call and arrange for the repairs.
When you need me, I'll be here.
Justin
Holly crumpled the note and peered up, then down, the street. There was no sign of Justin. The note said he'd be here, not if she needed him, but when she needed him. And he'd be here? Here where? And who was Anders?
Swallowing, she backed up a couple feet, then turned and hurried back into the house. Slamming the door closed, Holly locked it, then stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should she call the police?
And tell them what? That after picking her up when she fell and knocked herself out, and after apparently watching over her for two days and nights until she'd regained consciousness, he'd then had the audacity to return her car and purse?
That last thought made her frown, and Holly moved to the round mirror above a small hall table halfway up the pale yellow hall. She quickly unwound the T-shirt that covered her greasy hair and then leaned in to examine her scalp in search of the head wound that had knocked her out.
There was nothing. Not even a lump let alone a great gaping wound to explain such a long length of unconsciousness. Straightening, she stared at herself for a moment and then turned and walked upstairs. The main overriding emotion she was experiencing was bewilderment and confusion. She was home safe and sound, but had no idea what had happened. How could she have been unconscious for two days and nights and not have any kind of wound to show for it? Had she hit her head at all? And if not, what had happened? Had she been drugged? If so, how? When? For that matter, where?
These questions rolled around and around her mind as she walked into the upstairs bathroom, turned on the shower, stripped and stepped under the stream of steaming water. How and where could she have been drugged? She had been headed back to the office. She hardly would have changed direction and gone elsewhere dressed in her pajamas as she'd been. She would not have gone to a coffee shop or anywhere where she might have had a drink to be drugged. Heck, she wouldn't even have run into the corner store in her pajamas. The only reason she'd felt able to go to the office that way was because she'd known nobody would be there and--Holly froze in the process of shampooing her hair as it finally occurred to her that she had missed two days of work. Her husband may not have noticed that she was missing, but the office certainly would have.
Cursing under her breath, she quickly rinsed the shampoo out of her hair and turned off the water. In the next moment she'd pulled the shower door open, stepped out and snatched up a towel to wrap around herself as she hurried across the hall to the bedroom. There was a telephone on the nearest bedside table and Holly snatched up the receiver to quickly dial the cemetery office. It wasn't until the answering service picked up that she recalled that it was past office hours and it would now be closed.
Sighing, Holly set the phone back in its base without leaving a message and stood to return to the bathroom. She'd have to go into the office in the morning and try to clear everything up, she thought as she brushed her teeth. She was actually surprised that they hadn't called the house to ask why she wasn't showing up for work. Or maybe, like James, they hadn't noticed her absence, she thought, rinsing the foamy toothpaste out of her mouth. That didn't seem likely, but if someone had suggested that James wouldn't notice if she went missing for two days, she would have laughed at the very thought. Of course he would notice. He was her husband. They lived together. How could he not notice?
Very easily, apparently, because it had completely slipped his attention, she thought grimly as she set her toothbrush on the edge of the sink. That's when she spied her engagement and wedding rings. She didn't remember taking them off before showering. She must have taken them off the last time she showered, and forgot to collect them again. She had a habit of doing that. She really needed to get them sized. They were both a bit loose and she worried about losing them down the open tub drain when she showered so took them off before getting in. The problem was she kept forgetting to put them back on afterward, which meant she was ringless almost as often as she wore them.
Ah well, she knew she was married, so supposed it was fine. Holly moved back to the bedroom and dropped to sit on the side of the bed. She just couldn't believe James hadn't even noticed she had been missing. If the situation had been reversed, she certainly would have noticed his absence. Wouldn't she?
Suddenly terribly depressed . . . and exhausted, Holly glanced toward the open bedroom door and the bathroom beyond. She'd left her borrowed clothes on the floor and should really go collect them. She should dress and eat and check her blood too. But all of that seemed like too much effort. She'd just rest first, Holly decided and swung her feet up on the bed as she reclined. A little nap and she'd feel better.
Justin watched until Holly lay down and closed her eyes. He then settled to sit on the roof of the back porch. It was directly outside the bedroom window, resting about three feet below the window ledge. It had given him a perfect view into the room.
Lucian had said he was to watch over her. It would have been easier had Justin been able to read and control her. He could have waited inside then. This way he had to stay outside, on the roof, and hope none of her neighbors noticed. The thought made him glance around at the neighboring houses. Most of the upstairs lights weren't on yet. It was early enough that the inhabitants were relaxing after dinner, settling in front of the television or curled up with a good book. Most wouldn't be heading upstairs until bedtime. That was lucky for him. It was mid-spring. The days were getting longer and the nights starting later which meant that while the sun was setting, the night sky was still light. He would be noticed here if anyone looked.
Justin scanned the h
ouses again, aware that he'd have to keep a sharp eye out until it grew dark, then he would disappear into the shadows. Until then, he probably stuck out like a sore thumb. Movement drew his gaze to the house directly behind Holly's and he spotted a wide-eyed teenage girl staring out at him from an upstairs window. He met her gaze, slipping into her thoughts just as she opened her mouth, probably to call out to her parents. A moment later the teenager turned away and went about her business. She wouldn't recall seeing him. Nor would she look out the window again. He'd seen to that.
Sighing, he scanned the other windows in the house and then glanced over the neighboring houses again. The next hour would be taken up with doing that over and over . . . unless Holly woke up and moved downstairs. If that happened, he'd have to move to a window on the lower floor.
Justin knew he didn't really have to watch this closely. There was no one in the house with her so no risk that she'd bite anyone, but he wanted to watch her. He enjoyed watching her. Besides, who knew when her hunger would kick in? They'd been giving her blood right up until about five minutes before she'd woken up. But she was a new turn. Hunger might claim her at any moment, or might not arrive for hours. The amount of blood a new turn needed was always more than a mature immortal, but it could vary widely depending on the physical well-being of the one turned. Justin had spotted an insulin pen and blood tester in her purse as he'd looked for her keys and knew Holly had been a diabetic before the turn. But he wasn't sure how much damage her body had incurred over the years from the ailment. That would affect her need for blood, though he wasn't sure by how much.
He supposed he'd just have to wait to see.
Four
"Holly? Holly! You slept through your alarm."
Moaning sleepily as someone shook her shoulder, Holly turned onto her back and peered blearily up at the fair-haired man bent over her. "James?"
"Yeah. Get up, girl. You'll be late for work," he warned and turned to walk out of the room.
Holly stared after him with confusion and then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 8:11. She had slept through the night and--
"Crap!" she muttered and tossed the sheets aside to get up, realizing only then that it was actually the towel she'd fallen asleep in. Catching it up again, she stood and wrapped it around herself, then moved to the closet. She had to dress and--
Holly paused in front of the closet but rather than search for clothes, she merely shifted her feet as she thought. She wasn't even sure she had a job anymore. She'd missed two days and might be fired. She really needed to call and find out and . . . she was starved. Turning, Holly headed out of the room. She would eat first, and then call, and then dress. At least that way she would know what she was dressing for . . . work, or groveling at the temp agency for a new position.
A grimace claimed her lips at the very thought. Holly hate, hate, hated working for the temp agency, but appreciated the job at the same time because they were willing to work around her class schedule.
Holly had worked full-time to support them while James had got his applied sciences degree at the local college. He'd worked too, part-time, like she was doing now. The degree had got him a job with a low starting wage, but a lot of promise for the future. Now it was her turn. So, James had his full-time position and she had her part-time gig with the temp agency while finishing her degree. They were presently between spring and summer courses, so she had been working full-time the last week and was supposed to this week . . . but she'd missed two days. The temp agency may already have put someone else in her position.
Holly walked down to the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator, examining the contents. She'd gone shopping the night before her unfortunate trip to the cemetery and had bought loads of fruits and vegetables. Most of them were now gone and what remained didn't look very appealing.
Sighing, she closed the door and glanced to the cupboards. There should be cereal. James didn't eat cereal . . . and she had spotted a milk carton in the refrigerator. Whether there was any actual milk in it was another question. James had the annoying tendency to put empty cartons, or nearly empty cartons, back in the refrigerator. She started toward the cupboard where the cereal should be, but then changed her mind. Cereal just didn't seem appealing to her at the moment either.
Holly turned in a circle and then moved to the phone. She may as well get the call done. If she did have to go to work, she had to get moving and then she could grab something to eat on the way.
Holly knew the temp agency number by heart and quickly dialed it, then waited patiently for Gladys to answer. The woman took her business very seriously and showed up as early as 7:00 A.M. or even before that when things needed doing.
"Good morning, Temps for Hire."
Holly forced a smile into her voice and said, "Good morning, Gladys."
"Holly! Good morning, sweetie. I'm glad you called," Gladys said sounding happy. "I have to tell you, you're really making points for us at Sunnyside. They love you there."
Holly stilled, her eyebrows rising. Finally she asked in cautious tones, "They do?"
"Oh, my, yes. Every time I call they give me nothing but compliments on you and your work."
Holly hesitated, but then asked, "And when did you last talk to them?"
"Yesterday. I called for my weekly checkup," she answered promptly. "And they gave me an even more impressive report on you than last week. Keep up the great work, my girl. You're making the company look good."
Holly closed her eyes briefly and gave her head a small shake. This didn't make any sense at all. It seemed they hadn't tattled that she'd missed two days' work. That or they hadn't noticed, which didn't seem likely . . . unless neither the boss nor his daughter had bothered to show up themselves. But that couldn't be. Someone had to have been there to answer Gladys's call and give that stellar report.
"So, what did you call about, Holly?" Gladys asked when she remained silent.
Grimacing, she bit her lip briefly as she tried to come up with an excuse for calling, and then said, "I just wanted to remind you that I can only work part-time again after this week."
"Oh, yes, your classes start again," Gladys murmured, the sound of shuffling papers coming through the phone. "Well, that's okay. I'll put Nancy on the days you can't work," she assured her, and then asked, "You did schedule your classes so you have two days free each week again, didn't you?"
"Yes. I e-mailed my class hours to Beth on Monday," Holly assured her and glanced toward the ceiling when James called her name from upstairs.
"Oh, good, good," Gladys said. "I'll get them from her and work out how to handle the Sunnyside taxes. In the meantime, I should let you go. You need to leave for work soon, I'd guess."
"Yes. Thank you." Holly said good-bye and hung up, then headed upstairs to see what James wanted.
She found him in the bathroom, staring down at the clothes she'd stripped off earlier to take a shower. The black jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket and makeshift bandana all lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. Holly bit her lip, knowing he would want to know whose clothes they were. In his rush to get to work last night he hadn't seemed to notice the borrowed clothes she was wearing, but he wasn't in a rush now and there was no mistaking them for anything but a man's clothes. He would want to know whose they were and how she'd got them.
"Jeez, Holl, you give me hell all the time for leaving my socks laying around instead of putting them in the hamper, and then you go and just leave all of your clothes where you take them off?" he asked with a combination of amusement and irritation. "I saw them there when I came in, but then forgot they were there and tripped on them on the way out of the shower. I could have knocked myself out or something if I'd hit my head on the tub or toilet. As it is I think I wrenched my shoulder catching myself on the counter."
Holly let her breath out on a slow sigh. He hadn't noticed they were a man's clothes. She supposed it was hard to tell from a crumpled heap . . . maybe. Her gaze shifted to his shoulder as he rubbed at it with
one hand, his expression pained. James was shirtless, wearing only his pajama bottoms. He had a nice chest, muscular enough to have some definition, but not overly so, and with just the slightest paunch. He was an attractive guy. Always had been. It had always made her wonder if she even would have caught his eye if they hadn't been thrown together by the lives their parents had led.
Holly's parents were archaeologists. She'd spent the first eighteen years of her life being dragged from one dig to another. Most of that time she'd lived in tents and had been homeschooled in camp . . . by James's mother. His father had also been an archaeologist and a lifelong friend to her father. They'd worked together. James's mother, a teacher before she'd married his father, had traveled with them to look after her and James and had schooled them both. Holly had grown up with James. They'd been each other's only friends. He'd been her first kiss, her first date, her first everything and she was the same for him. Marriage had been the natural next step and it was going beautifully. They never argued, never disagreed. In fact, this was the closest thing to a fight they'd ever had.
"I'm sorry," Holly murmured, stepping forward and urging him to turn his back to her. Once he did, she began to massage his shoulder. "How was work?"
"Oh, same old same old," he muttered as she pressed her thumbs into the knotted muscles. "That feels good. A little gentler though please."
Holly eased her grip, her eyes following the line of James's shoulder to the curve of his neck. He had his head turned away and her position behind and a little to the side gave her a perfect view of the muscle that ran down from his jaw to under his clavicle . . . and the external jugular vein that ran over it. She could almost see it throbbing under the skin. Holly found herself staring at it as she worked the muscles of his shoulder and had to fight the urge to touch and kiss him there. This wasn't the day they had sex. James was always exhausted after work and she was always in a rush to get out the door. It was no time to initiate something and she knew it, so just waited for the desire to recede.