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Furious with herself, Jenna shut the motel room door on Ryker’s retreating back, and turned to face the room. Frustrated energy coursed through her body, making her want to shout and punch things. But instead she would put her anger to good use and take her pent up energy out on the room. Her eyes scoured every surface, mentally working out the order in which she needed to start cleaning things. Germs from higher surfaces would float down onto lower surfaces when she wiped them, so she always started higher.
Bending to one of her bags, she pulled open the zipper and took out a couple of large plastic bags, similar to those favored by dry-cleaners. The bags contained her bed sheets, and she got to work, pulling the motel supplied sheets off the bed, checking the mattress for any stomach-turning stains, and then remaking the bed with her own bedding. She even carried her own pillow with her, unable to bring herself to sleep with her face on something so many others must have breathed and drooled into.
With the bed made, she got to work on the surfaces, cleaning the shelves, the lamp stands, the television remote, and the telephone—though she doubted she’d ever need to use the thing. Her antibacterial wipes found every surface she would touch, including the door handles and the light switches. Finally, she wiped everything down in the basic, but otherwise clean, bathroom.
She disposed of the empty packet of antibacterial wipes, together with all the used wipes, in the trash.
And then she allowed herself to rest, but not for long. Her whole body would be covered in the germs from the day, and she needed to wash.
Jenna undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor, and went, naked into the bathroom. She reached around the old shower curtain, wishing she’d been able to do a better job of it than just wiping it down, and switched on the faucet. The water quickly warmed, and she climbed beneath it. Using her own toiletries, she soaped down every inch of skin and then shampooed her hair. She had her own towels, though they were starting to get a little thread bare from all the use they got, but even so, she rinsed herself off, and used one towel to create a turban around her long hair, and the other to wrap around her body.
She rubbed herself dry and went to stand in front of the full length mirror. This was her daily obsession, her regime, which she conducted at least once a day, if not more if the situation allowed.
Jenna let the towel drop to the floor and stood, staring at her body in the mirror. Her face was okay, she didn’t mind her face—even if it did cause people to make comments along the lines of ‘you’d be so pretty if you lost a bit of weight,’ and, ‘you have such a pretty face,’ as if highlighting that the rest of her looked like crap would make her feel any better.
Maybe she could lose some weight if she really tried. But what was the point? It wasn’t just the weight she had to deal with. The weight wasn’t the main thing making her body ugly. Anyway, she didn’t have much else in her life now except the few small comforts of the food she enjoyed, wine, and chocolate.
She assumed most women who hated their bodies avoided mirrors at all costs, but she used the mirror as a form of punishment.
Jenna studied every inch of herself. She cupped her large, heavy breasts in her hands, lifting them up to imagine what they would look like if they were round and perky like the women in the magazines men seemed to love. She sucked in her stomach as best she could, then let it out again with a huff. She grabbed the folds of flesh around her middle, pinching the rolls as if she could cut them off with pretend scissor fingers. She twisted to look over her shoulder, at the further folds mid-way down her back, and the expanse of her backside, at the thickness of her thighs and the dimples that covered them.
Once her inspection of her fat was complete, her gaze moved to the huge, twisted scar that ran from the mid-point of one side of her back, right the way around her waist, to just above her groin. The doctors had done the best they could to stitch her back together, but the scar still appeared like a giant red and white welt, as if she’d literally been cut in two. That wasn’t far from the truth. The metal of the passenger door had folded upon the truck’s impact and sliced into her torso. She’d barely survived. Several days of surgeries had followed, during which she’d lost three liters of blood, together with one of her kidneys and her spleen. She’s also lost one of her ovaries. The doctors had told her she would still go on to live a full life, as long as she was careful to avoid infection and didn’t put her one remaining kidney under too much stress. They’d also told her she should consider not waiting too long before having children. Only having one ovary, plus the other stresses her body was under, meant getting pregnant and staying pregnant would be harder for her.
Jenna figured pregnancy would be the least of her worries. She didn’t want another guy coming anywhere near her. She’d been twenty-four at the time of the accident, and was twenty-five now. But there was no way she could bring a child into the mess that was her life, even in the unlikely event someone could tolerate her for long enough to do the act that would create one.
Self pity swelled up inside her, but she pressed her lips together and closed her eyes against her reflection. She’d cried too many tears over the last year. Recently, she’d had a better handle on her emotions, but with the approaching date, she found she was starting to struggle again.
She let out a sigh and turned from the mirror. Bending to her bags, she pulled out her clothes—her usual outfit of leggings, a smock-top, together with a fresh set of underwear—and got dressed. At least fully clothed, she could pretend she was just like everyone else.
Jenna took her laptop from her bag and settled herself on her bed. In places that didn’t have Wi-Fi, she used a USB dongle to connect to the internet. She topped up her credit as she needed it, not wanting to add a contract to the list of things she could be traced by, but even using the pay-as-you-go version made her nervous. It was still registered in her name, after all, and in her head she could see all the internet beams pointing down at her position like neon flashing signs.
Still, she had no choice. Even being on the move, she still had to work to pay for all the things she needed, same as everyone else—a roof over her head, food, her car—and so she needed to work.
Jenna checked her email. She had a couple of requests from people wanting her to write advertising copy for various items. Most of the time, she was able to write the pieces simply from the description the company provided her with, or from clips she could watch online, but on occasion items needed to be sent to her. On those occasions, she’d needed to provide the company with the address of the motel she’d been currently staying at so they could send her the product. Though she didn’t like to stay in one place for long, she needed to work, so she stayed until the item arrived. The company never asked for them to be sent back.
As always, when she was working, the time flew by, and by the time she lifted her head from her laptop, dusk had fallen, the world outside her window coated in a deepening purple hue.
A sharp knock on her door made her jump. Her heart leapt in her chest, instantly banging against her ribcage, while every muscle in her body tensed, her ears straining for the next sound. Who the hell would be knocking on her door? Was it him?
No, he wouldn’t bother to knock.
The realization made her calm down, and the knock came again.
Jenna got up and went to the door. She stood on tiptoes and peered out of the spy hole. A man stood outside, standing side on to the door. She caught sight of dark hair, a serious, strong face, a glint of a ring in his ear and a dark swirl of tattoos reaching up his broad throat.
Her heart leapt again, but for a different reason. Ryker! What the hell was he doing here?
Quickly, she yanked her hair from the ponytail she’d pulled it into after her shower. She ran to the mirror and checked under her eyes for any smudges of mascara. She fluffed her hair and grabbed a lip balm, smearing some over her lips, before rushing back to the door. She took a calming breath and then slowly opened the door.
Ryker had just started to walk away, but turned back when he heard the door opened. The sight of him made her breathless. The thick fringe of eyelashes highlighted the blue of his eyes. The fullness of his mouth made her want to bite his lower lip. The tattoos and piercings gave him a hint of danger.
“Oh, hey,” he said. “I’d almost given up on you.”
“Sorry. I was working. I tend to block out the outside world when I’m lost in a project.” She glanced down at the paper bag in his hands. Tantalizing scents wafted from the opening. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted the bag up as explanation. “I figured if you didn’t want to go out to dinner, I would bring dinner to you?”
She blinked in surprise. “You did?”
He approached, and his form suddenly seemed imposing. “I don’t usually take no for answer. I wanted to have dinner with you.”
“Really?” She couldn’t imagine why he would want to eat dinner with her in a stuffy old motel room. “Don’t you have somewhere more interesting you want to be?”
He glanced over her shoulder, toward the bed, and the corner of his mouth quirked, make her heart beat harder. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else more interesting than your motel room.”
Her voice raised an octave. “Arlington must be really dull then.”
“Or perhaps I just find you exciting.”
Time froze. All she was aware of was the way they were captured in the moment, their chests rising and falling, the way their eyes locked. Blood rushed to every sensitive area, her lips tingling. Her body was betraying her even while her mind shouted at her to push this gorgeous man out of the door and forget he ever existed.
Ryker stepped forward, closing the gap even farther.
“I know when I want something, Jenna,” he growled. “I don’t give up that easily.”
Every action seemed to happen in slow motion. He reached out, his fingers slipping lightly across the skin of her throat, to slide into the hair at the nape of her neck. Her breath quickened. He wore a chunky, silver ring, the cool of the metal scorching the heated flesh of her throat.
He leaned in, hesitating for a moment to allow her to move into him slightly, giving her consent. And then he kissed her.
Ryker’s lips were warm and soft. He controlled the kiss, his lips parting, causing hers to open in response. His hand cupped one side of her cheek, as his tongue lightly flicked against the tip of hers, seeking entry. She couldn’t help but respond to him, and their tongues met in a cautious, delicate dance. He tasted of mint, and her tongue touched the metal ball of his piercing, sending a thrill of excitement through her.
This is the most perfect kiss, her mind announced. No matter how long she lived or how many men she met, no first kiss would live up to this one.
They broke apart, though Ryker stayed close to her, his fingertips still lightly touching her jaw, his eyes boring into hers.
“You kissed me,” she said, unable to keep the wonder from her tone.
He smiled and her heart felt like it might explode. That was the sort of smile she could fall in love with.
All at once, her perfect moment crumbled. She could never let him see her body. They’d kissed, and he was a guy. Of course that’s what he would expect next. And forget her body; she would have to say goodbye to him in a day or two. There was no room for relationships in her life. She wouldn’t draw someone else into the mess that was her life. It wasn’t fair.
Though it broke her heart, she stepped away, moving out of his reach.
“I’m sorry, Ryker.”
He shook his head. “Hey, I’m sorry. I pushed things. Will you still eat with me?”
Her emotions were in a whirl. She’d been starving only moments before, but adrenaline had sapped her appetite. Plus, she felt self-conscious eating in front of Ryker. She could imagine herself with noodles hanging from her mouth, and bits of meat stuck between her teeth.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, glancing away.
“Hey, stop it.” His tone was sharp. “I brought you dinner, and I meant for us to eat that dinner. I won’t have you changing that just because I kissed you, got it?”
She nodded and glanced at the floor. “Got it.”
Jenna stepped back and allowed Ryker inside. She could barely believe she had this incredibly gorgeous man in her room, and he’d brought food. Wafts of spices and warmed meat assaulted her nostrils, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. It was as if she’d been transported into some kind of ultimate fantasy, but she was still awake.
Ryker glanced down at the trashcan filled with used wipes and an empty packet.
“You did a lot of cleaning.”
“Yeah. I like things to be clean.”
“Do you have that OCD, or something?”
She snapped. “No, it’s not like that. I just like things to be clean. I have my reasons.”
He held up his hands. “I was only asking.”
And it wasn’t like that, was it? She didn’t have OCD, it was just that after she’d gotten out of hospital, her survival instinct had gone into overdrive. She’d allowed something out of her control to almost kill her, and she hadn’t planned on letting the same thing happen again. From that point on, she’d promised herself she would do everything she could to take care of her. Screw what everyone else thought.
Ryker spread the boxes across the desk, one after the other, after the other.
Wow, he must really think I eat a lot. But she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t delighted to see the food. She’d stopped for a decent breakfast of bacon, pancakes, and maple syrup mid-morning, but she hadn’t eaten since.
She was starving.
“You sure ordered a lot of food.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well I didn’t know what you liked, so I figured I’d get a selection. We’ve got steamed dumplings, salt and pepper ribs, special chow mein, nasi goreng, duck with mushroom, and prawn crackers.” He paused. “You can’t have Chinese food without prawn crackers. I think it’s like a law or something.”
She laughed. “Definitely a law. But I have no idea what some of those things are.”
He grinned back. “You know what? Neither do I, but the guy at the takeout recommended them.” He fished back in the bag and produced two slender paper packets. He held them out to her. “Chop sticks or forks?”
“Oh, forks,” she said, reaching for the wider packet. “I eat too fast to mess around with chopsticks.”
He smiled at her again and her heart did a back flip. “That’s my girl.”
They sorted the takeout boxes between them and sat, cross-legged on the floor. Jenna did her best not to think about the number of feet that had passed over the surface and the number of bacteria that had been brought in on the bottoms of all those shoes.
Ryker quickly distracted her from her thoughts. He speared a dumpling with his fork and lifted it to her mouth. “Here, try this. It’s good, I promise.”
Tentatively, she parted her lips and took a bite. The dumpling split, half landing in her mouth, and the other half falling. They both reached to catch the pastry and meat, their hands fumbling together, as juice dribbled down her chin and she struggled to laugh around the mouth full of food. Ryker caught the half of the dumpling and popped it in his own mouth, chewing appreciatively. For once, she found she didn’t feel like a glutton eating around someone.
She caught him staring, a thoughtful smile on his face.
Quickly, she chewed and swallowed, wiping the juice from her face. “What?”
“I was just thinking I could get used to eating with you.”
Her stomach dropped and she glanced away. “No you can’t. I have to leave in two days.”
“Why, Jenna? Why do you have to leave?”
Tears filled her eyes and her appetite vanished. “I can’t tell you, Ryker.”
He shook his head. “Nothing could be that bad?”
She lifted her eyes to his.
“You have no idea.”