Creepers by David Morrell Page B

The pain of loneliness was a familiar if somewhat unpleasant companion. Before today, Corelli never considered that his prolonged grief over Jean's death might be a way to avoid the responsibility and reality of his own life. He'd always felt a great part of himself had died that night with her-- and now he began to feel he wanted that life back. Jean was dead. Frank Corelli was very much alive.

    Chapter 5
    Louise was nervous. Actually nervous! Like a college girl waiting for a blind date. Not that she'd been one of the flighty girls who viewed a higher education as four years of sowing wild oats before getting married. She'd wanted to learn, enjoyed the process. And had gone into Fine Arts because she had a decided talent for drawing and painting. It had paid off in a successful career. Textile design might not be the epitome of artistic endeavor, but it satisfied her creative spirit and it filled her bank account to overflowing.
    But now, once again sitting at the vanity table, all the money in the world couldn't have made Louise feel less nervous about her date with Frank Corelli. She rearranged a wild wisp of hair, wishing, not for the first time, that after her divorce she'd done a little less work and spent a little more time investigating the appealing and slightly frightening world of men. Before her marriage she was always being asked out, but she limited herself to one date a week, even on summer vacation. Only after she met and married David Hill did it occur to her that she was afraid of men--as evidenced by a long series of one-time dates with an endless number of faceless men.
    But David hadn't let her off the hook so easily. He was a grad student in business administration when Louise was in her junior year. He followed her, talked to her, cajoled her, and eventually convinced her she'd be better oft with him than without him. Louise acknowledged this barrage of flattery by giving him her virginity during her senior year. And for two weeks after, David avoided her, stopped calling, and refused to answer her calls. Louise was convinced she'd been a fool and had paid the ultimate price for her naivete. It seemed the classic case of the unwilling virgin seduced and abandoned by the older man. Until David resurfaced with profound apologies and a gushing display of tears that both fascinated and embarrassed her.
    "I needed the past two weeks . . . alone...to think," he shyly explained over dinner their first night back together.
    "Think about what?" she asked coldly.
    "You...me...us." He easily declined the pronouns.
    "You mean now that you've gone to bed with me, what are you...me...us...going to do about it?" Louise mocked in a voice intended to be lighthearted but that was filled with deep hurt at her betrayal.
    "I want to marry you, Louise," David blurted out. "Look, we both know I've been around, but this is the first time I've ever felt like this."
    "Oh?" was all Louise could manage to say. The fact was, she didn't know David had "been around."
    "I know you're not the kind of woman who plays around, then walks away laughing. You're serious. And I like that." He smiled and played with his chin like he always did when he was serious. "So, what do you say? Marry me?"
    Louise was a sucker for David's easy charm. Physically he was her dream man--blond as vanilla pudding; flawless blue eyes, perfectly trimmed mustache flecked with red highlights, and enough nice white teeth for three handsome men. That the attraction on both their parts was mainly physical didn't become obvious until he started fooling around with other women. But that came years later. After moving to New York City. After Lisa was born.
    Lisa.
    The tears started automatically. In the past three days Louise had cried more than she had in her entire lifetime. They sprang from her with an ease and volume that reaffirmed her Italian ancestry. Louise now dealt with her tears offhandedly, as she might with a fit of sneezing--she waited patiently until