A Trespass in Time Read online

  It wasn’t until today when she got a good look at her cowboy cop that she had faltered in her excitement to leave. And she didn’t like faltering. As pleasant as it was to meet someone new, it was positively annoying to have her plans dimmed. Heidelberg and all the promises of an exciting new life that it guaranteed had been nothing but one hundred percent thrilling for her—before she met Rowan.

  As she slid into the driver’s seat of her car and adjusted the rear view mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself and frowned. What was the point of this? She was leaving.

  Well, one thing was for sure, Rowan thought as he rinsed his razor in the sink, this would go down in history as the most incredible beginning to any first date, anywhere, ever.

  Drawing a weapon to get the attention of the girl of your dreams was, to say the least, an inauspicious beginning. He squinted at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Did he really think she was the girl of his dreams?

  This is why love sucks, he thought. It makes you sound like a damn idiot. But when he looked in the bathroom mirror, he had a goofy smile plastered across his face.

  When the cops showed up to remove Heckle and Jeckle, Rowan knew he had bought himself a long afternoon of paperwork—not just in Atlanta but back in Dothan, too. While it was true he hadn’t pulled his piece, everything still had to be laboriously documented even though, technically, he was still on leave. In his opinion, Ella hadn’t seemed in any condition to be driving herself home but she insisted she was fine. Like a lot of people, she registered the shock of being attacked as worse than the actual attack. At least she had agreed to have dinner with him. Even if she did insist on meeting him at the restaurant.

  Why was he always meeting women with trust issues?

  “I like the hat.”

  Ella tucked her feet up under her on the outdoor sofa and reached for her water goblet.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Rowan said, tossing it onto the spare chair at the table. “All part of the brand.”

  “I can see that.”

  The night air felt like a light layer of velvet on her skin. By day, the Atlanta summer was oppressive. But tonight was proof that, under the right circumstances, a summer evening could be pretty magical. She looked around the outdoor restaurant.

  “How is it I didn’t even know this place existed?” she asked, relaxing into the cushions of the couch.

  “My folks told me about it,” he said. “They’re retired. Plenty of time to read the reviews of every restaurant in town.”

  “You’re staying with them until your medical leave is over?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “The healing or the living with the folks?”

  Ella laughed.

  “I’m a little sore,” Rowan said patting his side, “but I can still kick down the door to Starbucks to rescue distressed damsels when called upon. How about you? Any effects from being bounced against a sidewalk today?”

  Ella shook her head. “I’m good.”

  “You are that,” Rowan said, looking at her with what Ella could only describe as hunger in his eyes.

  He didn’t dress or look like anyone she had ever known. Athletic, tall, rugged good looks. Check. Individualistic…she glanced at the cowboy hat on the chair. Check. And a US Marshal. Triple quadruple Check. She smiled at him, hoping she didn’t look as obvious that she wanted to eat him up too.

  “There’s no way I’m going to be able to eat all this food,” she said. “And I have a world class sweet tooth so dessert is a given.”

  “Not to worry. Go ahead and eat the dessert first and we’ll save the main course for our next date, how’s that?”

  “You’re awfully sure there’ll be a next date.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” she said. “And probably breakfast.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  Dear God, did she just say that out loud?

  “Did you just say…?”

  “Oh, hi, there,” she said to the approaching waiter. “I’ll have a very large glass of your house Pinot Grigio. Thank you.”

  Rowan laughed heartily to her complete embarrassment and the waiter’s confusion.

  God, even his laugh is sexy.

  “Okay, tell me everything,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a glass of beer. “You know who I am. What do you do?”

  “I work for a business intelligence firm doing background investigations,” she said.

  He frowned. “Sounds…fun?”

  She laughed. “No, it’s pretty much as boring as it sounds, but I’m good at it and the benefits are really great. My parents were both CIA operatives,” she said. “So I really wanted something nonexciting.”

  “Wow. Your folks were both spies?”

  “It’s not as exciting as it sounds. My dad always called it the most boring job on earth—interrupted by brief moments of sheer terror.”

  “Your dad sounds like he’s got a sense of humor. They retired now?”

  “My dad is,” Ella said. “My mom died when I was five.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Rowan said. “Growing up without a mother must have been tough.”

  “It was,” Ella said.

  “You an only child?”

  “I am. How could you tell?”

  Rowan laughed. “Only children tend to act…differently,” he said.

  “More selfish? More independent?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I guess you had hoards of siblings to make you so well grounded as an adult?”

  “I’m the eldest of four,” he said, nodding. “My folks are pretty dull compared to yours. My dad just retired from AT&T here in Atlanta. My mom was a homemaker.”

  “What made you want to be a US Marshal?”

  “No one thing, really,” he said. He unbuttoned his top shirt button and pulled out a pair of dog tags. “My uncle’s,” he said. “He died in the Gulf War.”

  “You were close?”

  “I was only ten,” Rowan said, stuffing the dog tags back in his shirt. “But he made an indelible impression. On all us kids, really.”

  After dinner, they drove in separate cars to Ella’s apartment. Ella knew the questions would start as soon as he saw her unfurnished apartment.

  “How’d you get shot?” Ella said, opening the apartment door and letting them both in.

  “Let down my guard for a minute,” he said, looking around. “I was in Juarez transporting the high-priced lawyer of a drug cartel honcho to stand trial in the US.” He shrugged. “Took my eye off the ball for a split second.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Rowan smiled. “Oh, I didn’t lose him,” he said giving her a knowing look. “It just slowed us down some.”

  “Wow,” she said. She led him to an oversized beanbag chair that functioned as sole furniture in the living room, and sat down so close to him she was practically in his lap—a proximity he was doing everything to encourage. “You are one very tough dude.”

  “Yes, that is true,” he said in all seriousness. When they both laughed, he leaned over and kissed her. She felt a rush of pleasure that started in her toes—just like all the sappy romance stories claimed—and filled her all the way up to the tingling, pulsing touch of their lips.

  “You know, Ella,” he said as he held her and looked into her eyes. “I can’t help but notice that we’ve broken into an abandoned apartment and I’m starting to worry about the very real possibility that you are a fugitive on the run.”

  Ella laughed. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t be terribly hospitable because most of the kitchen is packed up and in storage. But I am working on using up the pantry and I do have some things in the refrigerator if you’re hungry?”

  “Well, actually, I think my question had less to do with what do you have to feed me and more along the lines of what the fuck?” He waved his hand around the empty apartment.

&n
bsp; She sighed. Now he would know what she knew. That as scrumptious as this amazing first date was, there would likely be no second date. Even so, she had been dreading the moment when she had to reveal that to him. She knew things would quickly go south when she did.

  “Well, I’m moving,” she said.

  “I actually had already gotten that far.”

  “I’ve taken a new job.”

  “Congratulations.”

  She took a quick breath. “In Heidelberg.”

  Rowan sat up straight and she slid off his lap.

  “Ergo the German language tapes,” he said slowly, looking around the empty apartment.

  “I didn’t know I was going to meet anyone,” Ella said hurriedly. “I’ve been planning this move for ages.”

  “Sure, I get it. When?”

  “My flight leaves Sunday night.”

  It was Friday.

  She could see him pull back emotionally when she said it. She didn’t blame him. What was the point of getting to know each other?

  “Ouch,” he said. “Sunday night. Shit.”

  “Exactly. I’m sorry, Rowan,” she said. “Bad timing.”

  For a minute he didn’t say anything. Ella cursed the empty apartment as the give-away that it was. But maybe it’s best this way, she thought. Now we can both go our separate ways. As if we’d never intersected.

  “Well, then,” he said finally, reaching out to touch a long curl as it framed her face. “Maybe we’d better not waste any more time.”

  The next morning, she rolled over in bed and found that the dream was real. She had a very large cowboy in her bed, and wonders of all wonders, he didn’t even snore. She lay next to him for a moment, watching him sleep.

  “Where did you come from?” Ella whispered to him in wonder and awe.

  His eyes opened.

  “Go back to sleep,” she said.

  He turned to face her. “Impossible.”

  They smiled at each other, not speaking. She snuggled into his arms, feeling safe and complete. She nuzzled closer to him, smelling the lemony maleness of whatever body soap he used.

  “Rowan?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Did you know we’d end up like this? In bed together?”

  “Well, I have to admit that whole breakfast comment you made last night did kinda give me a heads up.”

  “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He kissed her on the cheek. “It eliminated a lot of games that I don’t think either of us wanted to take the time to play.”

  “Sometimes I think games can be fun,” she said, moving around in his arms to look into his gorgeous blue eyes. “But I just couldn’t wait. I know that sounds pretty slutty, I guess?”

  Rowan laughed and looked at her. “No, no, not at all,” he said.

  “I’m mean, what else are you gonna say? You are going to call me, right?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Call you?”

  “As in, want to see me again after I, you know, gave away the milk?”

  He laughed. “Am I missing something or are you really referring to yourself as the cow?”

  “I notice you still haven’t answered me yet.”

  He looked at her and shook his head, his grin melting something deep and wonderful inside her. “Ella,” he said. “I’m bonkers about you. Can’t you tell?”

  She smiled and kissed him slowly on the mouth. “As with any new language, it takes me a while to pick up the subtleties,” she said softly.

  “Take all the time you need,” he whispered, pulling her down to join him under the covers.

  Four hours later when, finally forced by hunger to drag themselves out of Ella’s bed and to the neighborhood Waffle House, Ella had pretty much convinced herself that she was in love for the first time in her life. It wasn’t hard to believe. Everything she saw in Rowan’s eyes mirrored what she was thinking and feeling. The two fed off each other, reveling in how much they had in common, how unique and special the beginning of their love affair was. By mutual consent, neither talked about the impending separation.

  They had waffles and scrambled egg plates piled up on both sides of them and they had already gone through two baskets of biscuits. Rowan loved a girl with a healthy appetite and Ella had that coming and going. In fact, he decided as he watched her, he thought he was damn near ready to admit that he was effing in love with all her appetites.

  But the elephant in the room wouldn’t budge.

  Ella looked at him over the plates of bacon and the bowls of steaming grits. She leaned across the table and took his hand.

  “It doesn’t have to mean the end for us,” she said. “We can Skype and write and visit. We can make it work,” she said. “If…if you want to.”

  Now she was staring right into his eyes, using those gorgeous brown eyes to move him all over the playing field. But especially back to her apartment.

  “Get the check, Rowan,” she said. “We need to make the most of the time we’ve got left.” She drank down her coffee and started gathering up her purse.

  Rowan didn’t need to be told twice. He stood at the table to signal to the waitress.

  Chapter Three

  Rowan drove her to the international terminal at the Atlanta airport. He parked, stood in line with her while she checked her bags through to Frankfurt and sat with her at the Burger King before she headed for security and her gate.

  And he already hurt like hell.

  The last two and a half days had been a whirlwind of lovemaking, talking and feasting—usually in her bed, the sounds of their laughter, their groans of ecstasy echoing off the stripped apartment walls. As he watched her now, sitting so primly, almost nervously, her ankles crossed, her boiled wool jacket across her lap, her leather carryon beside her, he felt like he knew her as well as he had ever known anyone. In the two days they had had together, they had explored each other in every sense of the word and the next step should have been commitment and love.

  Rowan watched her and noticed she was doing a good job of looking everywhere around the airport lounge except at him.

  “You sure you got everything?” he said.

  “Pretty sure,” she said brightly. “I’ll get a bottle of water once I get past security.”

  “Yeah, that’s good,” he said.

  Was he imagining the sheen in her eyes? Was she feeling what he was feeling? Only thing was, if she were feeling what he was feeling she would not be about to climb on that airplane.

  “This really sucks,” he said.

  She looked at him then. Yep. Definitely tears.

  “When are you heading back to Dothan?”

  He knew she already knew the answer but it was something to say. Something other than goodbye.

  “Couple of weeks,” he said.

  “You look well enough to me to get back to work.”

  He knew she was trying to be light and playful. He should make it easy on her. But it wasn’t easy. He felt like shit.

  “Maybe you ought to head on to your gate,” he said, hoping she would say no, that she had some time.

  “I probably should,” she said, reaching for her bag.

  It’s always easier to be the one leaving, he thought. Being left behind sucks.

  He stood up and reached for her carryon. Silently, they walked to the escalators that led to the security floor. He stood behind her on the escalator, watching how her hair cascaded down her shoulders and then flipped up a little. It was almost as if he were trying to memorize her. She turned and looked up at him and smiled, her smile lighting up her whole face and lifting his heart just enough. He leaned over and kissed her.

  “I’m gonna miss you, beautiful,” he whispered.

  “I’m gonna miss you too, Rowan,” she said. He saw her lips tremble and then she turned away.

  At the entrance to security, he put the bag down and took her in his arms.

  “It’s not the end,” she said to him. “We’ll make sure it�
�s not the end.”

  “Yeah, we will,” he said. He kissed her again and then watched her pick up her bag and walk away.

  Ella’s first week in Heidelberg was even better than she had dreamed it would be. The jetlag and then the excitement of so many new discoveries and places had swamped her emotions—just as she had hoped they might—so that she fell asleep numb and exhausted each night.

  On the evening of her second day, she sat in her little furnished one-bedroom off Kleinschmidtstrasse and felt as close to happy as she ever remembered feeling. She snuggled deep in a large tub chair facing the window that overlooked the street with a view of a bookstore directly across from her apartment building. The street was ancient and her building dated back to the early seventeen hundreds. Just marveling at the texture of the ancient timbers in her ceiling gave her a feeling of peace and authenticity.

  Ella tucked her feet under her and sipped peppermint tea from a large mug. She still had trouble remembering what o’clock it was Rowan-time, but he usually called about now so she kept her cellphone within easy reach on the coffee table. She knew the situation was easier for her. She had so many exciting new chapters all beginning at once and poor Rowan had to drive by their restaurant and their Waffle House and her old apartment.

  She couldn’t wait to tell him about her full day of exploring the new neighborhood. Tomorrow would be her first day at the new job. She hugged her knees and looked out the window at the bookstore. The proprietor was rearranging the display window with more books and props of the fall season.

  The phone rang.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey, yourself,” Rowan said.

  “What time is it there?”

  “Three in the afternoon.”

  “Wow. It’s nine here. My day is already over.”

  “How was it?”

  “My German is so bad, Rowan. I found a very cool little grocery store around the corner but that bit about how everyone in Germany speaks English is a lie.”