Читать книгу Midnight Rhythms - Karen Van Der Zee - Страница 7

THE man stood stark naked in the bright light of a full moon, all of his masculine splendor on full display. Samantha stopped in her tracks and stared at the man poised at the edge of the pool. “Now I know I’m going nuts,” she muttered to herself. “I’m hallucinating, seeing things.”

The strap of her heavy book bag bit into her right shoulder; she’d been carrying it around for the last mile home, having left her car by the side of the road with an empty gas tank. She was exhausted. She’d lived on five hours of sleep a night for the past two weeks and it was no wonder she was hallucinating. For a moment she closed her eyes, then opened them again. No naked man by the pool. She let out a deep sigh, realizing she’d been holding her breath. All she wanted was to get inside, have a shower and go to sleep.

She stumbled to the front door and let herself in, dropped her bag, and practically crawled to her bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, she kicked off her shoes, picked up the phone and dialed Gina’s number at the hospital. Gina was a nurse and worked the evening shift.

“I’m going crazy,” she told her friend. “I’m going stark raving mad.”

“Did that bald instructor make another pass at you?”

“Yes, but that’s not it.” Samantha unbuttoned her blouse and struggled out of it. “I can handle him, but I think I’m seeing things. My mind is playing tricks with me. Is that what happens when you delve into the mysteries of business law with only five hours of sleep?”

“What do you mean you’re seeing things?”

Sam began to laugh. She couldn’t help it. “You’re not going to believe this. I ran out of gas a mile from home and—”

“I believe it, Sam,” Gina said dryly. “It’s a warning, a metaphor. You’re going to run out of gas if you don’t stop and relax once in a while. So tell me, what are you seeing that’s so funny?”

“I came walking up the driveway just now, a few minutes ago, and I saw a man standing near the swimming pool.”

“A man?”

“Yes.” Sam closed her eyes, seeing the man again. “Buck naked. All his God-given glory illuminated by a full moon. He looked like some Greek or Roman statue. He looked like Michelangelo’s David. He was gorgeous. Artistically speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” said Gina.

“He looked very much like he belonged there, near the pool, amid all those big trees, and that fat moon overhead. Like a real statue.” Revelation struck her. “Oh! That’s why I saw him! Somebody showed me her vacation pictures yesterday—all these Italian paintings and fountains and statues. No wonder. Just a trick of the light, I guess.”

“Phew,” Gina sighed. “What a relief. I was worried you were going nuts and it was all my fault because of what I said yesterday.”

Sam frowned. “I forgot about that.” Gina had told her it was high time to start thinking about romance, to find a man, to find love. She’d been alone too long and she deserved a good man. Well, Gina meant well, but Sam was not in the mood for romance. She was too busy working and going to school getting her degree. She was determined to be a college graduate before she turned thirty next year.

She sighed. “What I need right now is not a man, but a shower and a good night’s sleep. I won’t have to get up and study in the morning, so I’ll sleep in till seven.”

“Wow. Seven. I’m impressed. What about your car?”

“Oh, shoot, yes.” Sam raked her fingers through her damp hair. Thick and curly, the only way to keep it tamed was to pin it on top of her head or gather it back in a ponytail with a scrunchy. Maybe she should just have it cut really short. It would be cool and easy in the heat of summer. Except then she’d have to keep it trimmed all the time to keep it looking neat and when was she ever going to have time to go to the hair salon? She let out a weary sigh. Always this struggle for time. And now an empty gas tank to deal with.

“I’ll take Susan’s car and go to the gas station and get a can of gas and fill my tank, drive it back here, walk back to my car…it’s going to cost me an hour.” She groaned. “There goes sleeping in.” She unzipped her skirt and pulled it off. “I can’t win. God, what a miserable day. The air conditioner at the office wasn’t working and there was one crisis after another, and I had to stay late and almost didn’t make it to class in time.” She frowned. “I never had dinner, come to think of it. I should be hungry, shouldn’t I? I don’t think I am, though. Oh, well, in this heat, who wants to eat?” Only June and it felt like August, the sweltering air humid and thick. She stripped off the rest of her damp clothes and staggered into the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom, taking the portable phone with her.

She looked at herself in the mirror, which was a mistake. Light blue eyes, pale face, brown hair—she looked washed out, her lipstick and blush long worn off. Maybe it was the light. Right, sure, she thought with a grimace. She turned away from her reflection.

“Anyway,” said Sam, turning on the shower, “how’s everything with you?”

“Fine, same old thing. What’s that noise?”

“The shower. I’d better get in before I have no strength left to stand on my feet. Talk to you soon.”

“Take it easy, Sam,” said Gina. “Hallucinating about naked men is definitely a warning sign. Your feminine self is trying to tell you something.”

Sam rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Yes, Mommy.”

She had a shower, washed her hair and felt marginally better—still exhausted, but clean. Wrapped in a short cotton robe, she looked a little better, too, the blue of the robe brightening her eyes. Her stomach was grumbling now, and she felt thirsty. Having dried her hair and tied it back to keep it out of her face, she went to the kitchen to find something to eat. A banana, a glass of milk. She wasn’t sure what she would find. She hadn’t shopped for food in days.

The hardwood floor felt cool and smooth under her bare feet. It was such a beautiful house and she was happy to have the opportunity to live here for a while, house-sitting for Susan and Andrew, friends who were on a six-month tour of southern Europe, making a documentary. Such a stroke of luck, too, just when her apartment building had gone co-op and she’d been forced to move out.

House-sitting for Susan and Andrew was a perfect solution. The McMillans owned several acres of wooded land in Virginia, not too far from the civilized world of Washington D.C. The one-story house was an irregular, sprawling structure built to fit in with its natural surroundings. It had a big wooden deck and an in-ground swimming pool in the yard. Inside, the house was airy and spacious and furnished with casual, comfortable furniture and colorful artwork. Being used to apartment living, Sam found all the space simply wonderful, although sometimes, when she allowed herself the luxury of a moment of introspection, all that space made her feel a little lonely.

Light came from the kitchen. Had she left it on this morning? No, she was sure she hadn’t. Besides, she hadn’t noticed it being on when she’d come home. Trepidation gripped her. She stepped into the kitchen and her heart stopped as she took in the scene.

A red towel wrapped around his hips, Michelangelo’s David was pouring himself a whiskey.