Tim yawned hugely as he padded downstairs, an empty glass in his hand. He almost tripped over his feet at the bottom, and steadied himself with a muted curse. The morning was cool, the house enveloped in a pre-dawn glow. He walked into the kitchen, resting the glass in the sink.
Butterball, the fat ginger queen of his home, wrapped herself around his legs. He smiled, and felt the cat's purr against his leg. He bent to retrieve the cat food from under the sink.
"Come on, then, Puss, here's breakfast!" He refilled the ginger cat's bowl with clean water, filled a second set of bowls for the feisty young Siamese male, Keebler, and then went to open the top half of the back door that led out into the backyard. He leaned on the sill, and stared out on a peaceful morning. The fog had not lifted a foot off the ground, and the resulting picture stirred a deep, satisfied response inside him. He inhaled deeply, watching the mist swirl upward. By the time the sun came up, the morning would be clear and crisp, and the soupy mists would have dissipated.
Although Timothy Chandler was no longer in the first blush of youth, he enjoyed his life with satisfying gusto. He was a writer, and his latest book had finally gone to press last evening. He had a week before he needed to begin work on the next project. Well, not begin, but rather complete. He thought about what he had planned to do with his time off, and the smile on his face this time was deliberate, and calculating. His sister Gwen was coming later this morning to house-sit for him, while he went on his first little vacation in five years. He needed this time away, for more than one reason.
He watched as the fog began to lift, and rehearsed his plan. The trip to the lake would take almost all day, but once he had recovered a little, he'd begin to weave the spell that he hoped would win him the prize he most sought -- the woman he was falling in love with. It had taken him long enough to figure out, or perhaps admit, or both, that he loved Kathryn Harrison, and he knew that now, though all the fear and misunderstandings of the last year had been aired and expunged, he had to show her that what he felt was real, and that he would always love her. He had to show her that only she was the spark that set him off, like Roman candles on Independence Day.
Tim closed the top half of the back door, and went to check his messages. No one had called from the publishers, which was a good sign...unless they had e-mailed him. He touched a key and the laptop lit up. Kathryn had left him a message.
"I got here a little while ago, and you're right, Tim! It's beautiful! Even in the dark! Wish you were here!"
He sat down. "I wish I was there, too, toots! But I'll be there before you know it! Keep my spot warm for me."
Immediately, the IM box came alive, and before long he was grinning broadly. "Showered yet? I kinda like the image in my head..." She stuck a tongue out.
Tim chuckled. "Sure you want THAT image?" he winked and she replied,
"Too late. Already there!" The rolling-on-the-floor-laughing emo appeared. "What time will you get here?"
"Around six!"
"Can't wait...see you later, babe!" The little flirt emo appeared, their mutual sign-off note. He sent it back to her, and felt the place in his heart he'd kept closed off warm with thoughts of her, and what he planned to do when he saw her...
...Tim woke to the stewardess's hand on his shoulder.
"Seatbelt, please, sir! We're about to land."
He struggled into an upright position and put on his seatbelt. He'd been to the lake before, and had told her about it when he got back. He'd told her he was thinking of maybe retiring there. How they had gotten from those friendly chats, to intimate disclosures about her raging hormones, to this rendezvous, had him thinking lusty thoughts by the time he was on his way to the lake.
The lights twinkled on the front porch and in the kitchen when he walked up the front steps, lugging his suitcase. He pushed open the door and immediately the smell of cooking assailed his nostrils. He dropped the case and followed his nose, entering the kitchen as a tall, caramel-skinned woman stood up from peering into the oven. She turned, as though she had heard him, and their eyes met. Her smile started there, in those big brown eyes, and spread over her whole face. She looked exactly as he remembered, and his response was immediate and telling, if she had looked at the front of his slacks. He resisted the urge to adjust himself.
They had talked a few of times on the phone, in addition to the two, and sometimes three-times-daily chats on instant messenger, and had exchanged photographs, and he had met her for lunch while on a book tour a few months earlier. But this was the first that they would spend any significant amount of time together, and Tim did not know what to expect. It had taken some careful negotiating on his part, with a very light hand, to get her to agree to share the cabin with him. He broke the awkward silence.
"Hey there, pretty lady! Something smells good in here!" He approached her slowly, and watched her walk toward him, his skin tingling in anticipation of touching her.
"Hey, Tim!" Her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat. She stopped about a foot away from him and stared.
Tim felt his cheeks heating, so great was his desire to make contact with her, and he reached out and touched her face.
"Still beautiful!" When she smiled, he found he needed to hold her, so he did, pulling her fully into his arms. He felt her shudder, and he tilted her face up and stared into her eyes.
"What?" she asked. A small frown marred her brow.
"Nothing," he lied, willing himself not to shake. "I'd forgotten how beautiful you are in person," he continued. She smelled of some sweet, exotic fragrance, but under that, he smelled her, the essence of her that rattled his composure. He dropped a tender kiss on her hair, lightly, so she didn't feel it, and letting her go abruptly, moved away to sit at the table.
