“Maybe. Eventually.”
He reached for her hand. She gave it to him. They stood quietly.
“Do you think it’s over?” she asked after a while.
“Almost. We still don’t know who committed the murder that you and Olivia witnessed fifteen years ago.”
“It wasn’t one of the triplets, we can be sure of that much. They look nothing like the man who killed Morrissey. In any event, they would have been too young. The murderer was in his twenties at the time.”
“We’ve got a lot to go on now,” Slater said. “Sooner or later we’ll identify him. Victor and Lucas are right. Trevelyan and the clones will talk. Just a matter of time.”
“It will be good to get back to normal.”
Slater turned her so that she faced him. He put his hands around her waist.
“How do you define normal?” he said. “Asking for a friend.”
She gripped his shoulders. “Darned if I know. Olivia and I have always figured that as long as we weren’t locked up in an institution, we were on the right side of normal.”
“This friend, the one who’s asking for a definition, he was locked up for a while. It was an attic, not an institution, but you get the picture. Pretty much the same thing.”
“But he’s out in the world now.”
“Still not anywhere close to normal, though. Never will be.” “Tell me why your friend cares about the answer.”
Slater framed her face between his hands. “He desperately wants to be able to offer the promise of normal to a certain person. But he knows that he can’t do that.”
“If the certain person in question is not exactly normal herself, she won’t care about a promise like that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely positive.”
He drew her closer. “I know it’s too soon to talk about the possibility of a future together, but I need to tell you that I’ve been thinking about it since we ran into each other on the street. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m not asking for a commitment. Not yet. But if you could give me some time, I’ll do everything in my power to show you that I’m serious about a future together.”
She took her hands off his shoulders and wound her arms around his neck.
“How much time do you think you’ll need?” she asked.
Energy whispered in the atmosphere.
“Whatever it takes,” he said. “I’m all in, here, Catalina. I love you.” She traced the corner of his mouth with the edge of one finger.
“I thought there would be fireworks,” she said. “Lots of sizzle and heat and flash-bang energy.”
Slater went very still. His aura got a little more intense. In the shadows it was impossible to read his eyes, but she sensed he was steeling himself for grim news.
“When did you expect all that to happen?” he said.
“When I found the man I’ve been looking for, the one I could love. I just assumed there would be a little lightning in the atmosphere.”
“Are you telling me that you don’t think you could fall in love with me?”
“No. I’m telling you that I am in love with you.”
“But no fireworks? No lightning?”
She smiled. “Oh, there is plenty of both. But there is something even more amazing. What I feel is a sense of certainty. Of rightness. I feel grounded and at the same time I think I could fly.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair. “That’s how I feel, too. A sense of rightness.”
“People are going to tell us that it’s too soon,” Catalina warned. “That we’ve been through a lot of drama in recent days and that makes everything more intense.”
“Who is going to tell us those things?”
“Our families. Olivia.”
“Nope, not me,” Olivia said from the doorway. “You two look like a perfect match. On behalf of the staff of Lark and LeClair, I offer my sincere congratulations. Now, would you mind taking it into a bedroom? I’m trying to get a little sleep here.”
Slater laughed. The sound burst forth in a roar that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep inside him. Catalina was startled, and then a sense of wonder came over her. It was, she realized, the first time she had heard him laugh. They really did have a lot to learn about each other. The drama of the past few days was mostly over, but their adventure together was just beginning.
Olivia smiled at Catalina and disappeared back down the hallway.
Slater scooped up Catalina and carried her toward her old bedroom.
“Now that we’ve got the important stuff settled,” he said, “let’s see about the fireworks and lightning part.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “That sounds like a very good idea.”
He got her into the bedroom and paused long enough to allow her to close and lock the door. He set her on her feet, pulled aside the covers and stripped off her flannel pajamas.
He kissed her with enough intensity to set off the fireworks. The lightning came next. A hungry, urgent, aching tension built within her.
She flattened her palms against his bare chest and drew her hands down to the waistband of his trousers. She unfastened his pants, her fingers shivering a little, but not from the evening chill. Gingerly she lowered the zipper, cautious of the heavy bulge of his erection.
He got a packet out of his pocket, ripped it open and sheathed himself in the condom. When he was ready he hoisted her up into the air. A rush of feminine heat swept through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and sank her teeth lightly into his earlobe.
He groaned and kissed her neck. She closed her eyes against the giddy heat. She felt him move and assumed he was going to put her down on the bed. Instead her back was suddenly up against the wall. He braced her there, gripped the undersides of her thighs and slid into her, slowly, relentlessly, filling her completely. She tightened her legs around his waist and dug her nails into the muscles of his shoulders.
He retreated a little. She cried out in protest and clutched him close.
In response he eased back into her, going deep once again. She fought to keep him where she needed him to be. But again he pulled back.
She gave a muffled moan of protest. Her nails became claws. She was gasping now, straining to take control of the rhythm and depth of each penetration, but he refused to let her set the pace. Again and again he sank himself into her, only to ease back out.
She was so tense, so tightly wound, so desperate for release she started to get frustrated.
“Damn it,” she said.
At that he let go of her right thigh. She was still trapped against the wall and she still had both legs chained around him. He reached down between them and found the taut, swollen bundle of over-stimulated nerve endings. He stroked gently.
It was too much. Too intense. She gave a muffled shriek and came undone. Her climax rippled through her in deep, heavy waves. She could not catch her breath.
He drove into her one last time, his own climax crashing through him, fierce and exultant.
When it was over he somehow got her to the bed. They collapsed together in a damp tangle.
“If we keep doing this,” Slater said after a while, “we really are going to set the bed on fire.”
Catalina smiled. “Fireworks and lightning.”