Rising Page 6

  “Yeah, right. That reminds me. He freaked when he saw my eyes were blue. I tell you, the man is demented. I think I should be afraid.”

  “Sweetie, you just worded that wrong. The man freaked when he saw your blue eyes. They are an unusual color. I just think he’s smitten with you and you can’t recognize it because of the giant wall you’ve built around yourself to keep men out. Well, you can’t keep this man out. He owns your apartment. He has a key.”

  “That’s a scary thought.” Sara ran red thread through the sewing machine. She’d considered telling Gretchen about her date with Ron to counter her reference to her wall keeping men out, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to relive the ridiculous night with an ignorant, rude man. She didn’t even want to think about that night.

  “I think its destiny,” Gretchen said. “Now, tell me again what he looks like.”

  “I already told you. He and Shane Adams could be brothers, except Mr. Dimitriou is younger, much more handsome, and way taller. I swear his hair brushed dust streaks on my ceiling. Now, I ask you, how is a girl in a wheelchair supposed to scrub ceilings?” she asked, holding a straight pin in her mouth.

  “Your ceilings are exceptionally low. But that still puts him at about seven feet tall. Wow.”

  “Wow—as in scary.”

  Gretchen climbed the step stool and hung her curtain. After adjusting the fabric, she smiled. “You’re in the wrong profession, girl. You should be a seamstress. This looks amazing. Now only one window to go.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So what do I do about the giant?”

  “I think you should plant a big wet one on him next time you see him, but that’s just me.” Gretchen smiled.

  She was not taking this seriously enough. “I don’t know why I try to have intelligent conversations with you. Oh shoot. Look at the time. I need to get going if I’m going to be back before dark.” Sara wheeled her chair around. She packed her sewing supplies up in a box and scooted it under the table.

  “All right, go. You’ve done your charity work for today. We can finish this tomorrow. Then we can go out and celebrate my new drapes. If you want to invite Shane Adams, I can find a date and we’ll double. I’d love to meet him.” Gretchen wriggled her eyebrows as she folded the last unfinished curtain panel and placed it in a box.

  “It’s Mr. Dimitriou, and no, a date with him is completely out of the question. Not only am I broke, but he’s my landlord, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Well, don’t worry about paying for it. It’ll be my payment for the curtains. And some of the best relationships start out between landlord and tenant.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m sorry my car is in the shop,” Gretchen said. “It should be ready tomorrow. Do you want me to walk you home?” She pulled the completed curtains closed over the darkening windows, and then smiled in appreciation.

  “Oh, sure, and then I could walk you back here,” Sara answered. “Then you could walk me home again, and then…”

  “I get it.” Gretchen dropped her hand on her hip and sighed. “But as strong and independent as you are, a woman in a wheelchair is less able to defend against attackers.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know, but, not to worry. I have my trusty pepper spray to defend for me,” she said, lifting it out of her purse and holding it up.

  “Well, keep it handy. I noticed some slimy looking perverts eyeing you the other day.” Gretchen grimaced.

  Oh, great. Maybe she should have Gretchen walk her home. Yeah and who would protect Gretchen?

  Wheeling out the front door of the apartment building, Sara wished she could hail a taxi, but she still had to go grocery shopping and she needed what was left of her money to pay for food.

  Sara wheeled down the sidewalk. Twilight had painted orange and purple streaks in the sky as she bumped over the curb to cross the intersection of Apohana Drive and Kaniki Way. She passed by a shop called Linens of Hawaii and then passed a corner garage. She paused before wheeling by the gas station. Drivers around here rarely watched for short, wheelchair-bound females.

  As Sara approached the first of several apartment buildings, she noticed a tall figure blanketed in the shadows. Through the darkness, she thought she saw the gleam of his teeth for a moment. As he was almost out of sight, she noticed he’d stepped away from the building.

  Oh, please, don’t let him be following me. She rushed to the end of the block. She took a quick glance over her shoulder. She didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there behind the dumpster or the mountain of clutter by the road.

  Sara’s wheels spun over the sidewalk as she hurried. She had lived in this neighborhood for only two months—not enough time for a crippled recluse to meet the people who lived near her. She looked around to find some comfort. All she saw now were rundown apartment buildings with few lighted windows. She knew that if she needed help, she’d be lucky to find it. To survive here, people learned to avoid trouble.

  Sara chanced another glance behind her. The same tall figure bounded toward her, half a block away. She wheeled faster. She was going so fast, her arms should have been burning by now. She had to be running on pure adrenaline.

  The next block was hers. Her apartment was in the last building on the right, next to a grove of coconut trees riddled with beer cans, cigarette butts, and other discarded trash. Beyond that lay the ocean shore.

  She flew across the parking lot to the glass door that led to safety.

  What in the world? This wasn’t her door. The cracks were gone and the metal was shiny and new.

  “What are you doing…?” an angry male voice beat in her ear. Gretchen would have been proud of her knee-jerk reaction. Sara pulled the pepper spray out of her pocket and took aim, spraying the large figure in the face.

  “Awwwwww, Gromot.” If she thought the voice had sounded angry before, it was furious now. Funny, she had a flash of déjà vu, as if she’d heard that irate voice before.

  Sara fumbled with her keys. After several failed attempts, she finally grabbed the right key and tried to thrust it into the lock. It only went a quarter of the way. “Oh please, oh please, oh please,” she chanted as she tried again and again to get her key to work.

  “Sara Taylor.” The voice calmed, slightly less menacing, and then she recognized it.

  “May I ask what I did to deserve getting sprayed in the eyes with acid?” Mr. Dimitriou bent over and pressed hands on his face. He dabbed at his red eyes.

  “Oh, Mr. Dimitriou, I’m so sorry. I thought you were… Well I don’t know… but I… I thought someone was going to attack me. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I was about to scold you for being out alone at dusk.” He sniffed. “But I see you brought protection and I must say it’s quite effective.”

  He tried to rub his eyes, “Uhg.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you. Come inside and you can rinse your eyes out.” She tried once again to unlock the door. “I can’t seem to get my key to work.”

  “I know you can’t. This is a new door with a new lock. I was just going to give you your key when you… uh.” He sighed. “Well, never mind.” He squinted at the lock, slipped in the key, and turned it.

  “Oh.” She was speechless. Feeling like an idiot often robbed her of her powers of speech.

  Mr. Dimitriou gave the door a gentle shove and it swung open on its own. “This new door should make it easier for you to get in and out of the building.”

  “Oh, um, thank you.” And why is he spending so much money accommodating my needs? Mr. Dimitriou followed her down the hall and stopped at her new steel door. It looked like the main door wasn’t the only one he’d replaced. Sara remembered her conversation with Gretchen.

  Could he be infatuated with her? She looked him over.

  No way.

  There was no possible way a man who looked like he stepped out of a Gladiator movie could be interested in a little, handicapped woman. She’d always though
t Ron Hathaway was good looking, but compared to Mr. Dimitriou? Well, there was no competition. Mr. Dimitriou made Ron look like George McFly.

  Mr. Dimitriou took another key out of his pocket, put it in the lock, and held the door open for her. Warning bells rang in her head. He had a key to her apartment. He could come in here whenever he wanted. And she had doubts about this man’s sanity. He sure did a lot of things that seemed crazy, and despite his unreal level of hotness, she didn’t want to die at the hands of a lunatic.

  Sara wheeled past Mr. Dimitriou and was about to bid him farewell when he strolled in and shut the door like he owned the place. Well, technically, he did, but this was her apartment. She paid good money for it.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Dimitriou,” she began. He took three steps over to her sink, turned on the faucet, and washed out his eyes. Oh right. The eyes she’d sprayed with pepper spray. She had invited him in, hadn’t she? The man had turned her into an imbecile.

  “Listen,” he said, “I’m sorry I scared you. It’s not easy being nearly seven feet tall. People always think the worst of you. And with you being crippled, it has to be hard living on your own.”

  “Excuse me? Crippled?” Sara’s angst rose. “I know English isn’t your native language, so I’d better warn you. People in my condition don’t like to be called crippled. It’s not politically correct.” Sure, she called herself crippled all the time, but that was different.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh no? So what’s the term I should use?” He leaned against her counter; it creaked under his weight.

  “Well, those who don’t have the use of their legs are called paraplegic. And those who don’t have the use of their arms and legs are called quadriplegic.”

  “Oh, so you can’t move your legs?” He looked suspicious, as if she’d faked her disability. She’d give anything to be able to walk like a normal person.

  “No, I can’t move my legs.” She glared at him. Technically, she wasn’t lying. Her deformity didn’t look anything like legs.

  “So, have you been this way since birth?” He pulled up a chair, straddled it, and made himself at home.

  “Do you always ask personal questions that are none of your business?” She narrowed her eyes.

  He smiled. “Only of people who spray acid in my eyes.”

  “It’s not acid, it’s pepper spray. And it doesn’t do any permanent damage.” She saw that his eyes were still quite red and so was the skin around them.

  Dang, she felt guilty. After all, he’d done quite a bit for her. She glanced at the door and noticed, for the first time, a peephole just her height. Was Gretchen’s theory really so farfetched?

  “I’m sorry I sprayed you with pepper spray,” she said just above a whisper.

  His brows furrowed as he flashed a crooked smile. “I’m glad you did.”

  Okay, maybe he was crazy.

  “Now I won’t be quite so worried about you being out on your own in this neighborhood.” He shrugged.

  Okay, now that was just sweet.

  “Listen, Mr. Dimitriou.” She sighed. “How about I try to make amends?”

  His brows furrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, my friend Gretchen invited me to go on a double date with her tomorrow. And I would be happy to treat you to dinner and a show.” Did she just say that? What was she doing? There was no way this Greek god would go out with her. She felt her face heat with embarrassment. Great, there goes her confident façade.

  “You’d pay to take me to dinner with your friend and her date?”

  Actually, Gretchen would be paying, but he didn’t need to know that, so she nodded.

  “I appreciate the offer.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

  Darn it. Why did she have to ask him? She should have known he’d refuse.

  “But I just wouldn’t feel comfortable having you pay for our date. But, if you’d allow me to pay, I’d love to come.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  His dark eyes sparkled as he smiled. “Yes really.”

  She brushed her fingers through her hair. Was it hot in here? The shrill ringing of the phone startled her.

  “Oh excuse me, it might be a client. I’ll be just a minute,” she said as she wheeled over to an old, black wall phone. Missing client calls was not an option when one was on the brink of homelessness.

  She put on a smile and answered the phone. “Hello, this is Sara.”

  “Sara, where are you?” Her heart made a splashdown in her stomach. Of all times for her to call.

  It was her mom.

  She held the phone away and covered the earpiece as her mother screeched. It didn’t help much. “How could you leave me for so long and not tell me where you would be? You think a few emails telling me you were fine would be enough for me to know you’re not dead?”

  Sara held the phone back up to her ear and spoke low. She didn’t want Mr. Dimitriou to hear this conversation, but with her mom screaming at high decibels through the receiver, it was impossible to have a private conversation.

  “How did you get this number?” Sara asked.

  “I had to hire a private detective to find you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I was going to call, but after I moved… ”

  “Don’t lie to me, Sara,” her mother said, cutting her off. “You’ve always been an ungrateful child. I can’t believe you neglect me like you do. When I think of all the things I’ve sacrificed for you, it makes me sick to see how you’ve turned out. Now I want you to come home right now.”

  “No, Mom. I’m not coming home. I have a life here. I’m an adult and I need to take care of myself right now.”

  “You selfish child.” Sara felt the vibrations of her mother’s voice as she covered the receiver. “You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself. I shouldn’t have come back for you. I should have left you at the bottom of that cliff. I can see why your father never came to get you. You’re just like him. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. When I think of all I’ve suffered because of you… I wish you’d never been born.”

  Sara had heard it all, more times than she could count. Usually she buckled and apologized, but not this time. This time she said what needed to be said.

  “Mom, say what you want. You’re just mad because you can’t control my life anymore. Get some professional help, and maybe then we can talk.”

  She carefully hung up the phone, cutting off her mother’s tirade midstream.

  Sara felt shaken, but still triumphant. She turned toward Mr. Dimitriou and her stomach clenched. His brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she said.

  She paused for a long time. What could she say? How could she explain? Her mother was a selfish woman and a nutcase on top of that. There was no way he’d want to date her now. She took a deep breath, and looked down.

  “Your mother found you at the bottom of a cliff?”

  Her eyes snapped up. “Sort of…” she said. Her cheeks flushed with warmth. “Listen, I know that you agreed to go on a date with me just to be polite. If you’d rather cancel, I’ll understand. Really, I will. I invited you on a whim. Honestly, I think it may be best if we just keep things simple. You’re my landlord and I’m your tenant. And I like it that way.”

  Mr. Dimitriou got up, stepped over, and sank to his knee beside her chair as she kept up her explanation. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “it was noble of you to accept my invitation, but I know you couldn’t… possibly….”

  Dang. Having his rugged face this close to hers almost made her lose her train of thought. “ever… be interested….”

  Xanthus moved in closer, just a breath away. “Hmmm?” He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, the intensity of his gaze bore into her soul.

  “…in someone… like me?” Did she just phrase that statement as a question? He raised his hand and pressed his palm to her c
heek. His touch was electric. He’s going to kiss me, was her last coherent thought.

  His warm lips pressed down on hers. His mouth moved expertly, coaxing hers into response. And respond she did. A flame ignited a hunger and need she hadn’t even realized she possessed. Her hands, of their own accord, rose to his head, her fingers weaving through his hair as she attempted to pull him closer.

  This was a new experience for her. She’d never dreamed a kiss could be so amazing. His mouth worked magic with hers, a magic that seemed to have the power to bring her to life in a way she’d never felt alive before. She barely noticed being lifted out of her chair, didn’t notice the ties anchoring her blanket rip away. But when she felt the blanket begin to slide, the spell shattered into a million jagged pieces. If the blanket slid any more, he would see her deformity!

  Sara attempted to pull away from his iron grip. Somehow, the blanket still covered her, thank goodness.

  “Mr. Dimitriou, please stop,” she breathed as he trailed hot kisses down her neck.

  He didn’t seem to hear her as he continued his gentle assault.

  “Mr. Dimitriou, stop!”

  His body froze.

  “Sara,” he said through ragged breaths. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, breathless herself.

  “No. No, it’s not. I should have known better than to kiss you in your condition. It was unforgivable of me.”

  What did that mean? Why should her being in a wheelchair keep him from kissing her? Realization dawned on her as her heart sank. “I was right. I knew you’d never consider me as a real possibility for a relationship.” Her lips burned from his kisses and her body cherished his embrace. She wanted him, obviously much more than he wanted her. How dare he toy with her like that? “It’s a good thing I’m a crippled girl. At least you have your pity. Would you please put me down?”

  “You misunderstand me.” He shook his head as he continued to cradle her in his arms.

  A single tear trailed down her cheek. “My mother was right about one thing. Guys are pigs.” She slapped the tear away.