Worlds Apart

Worlds Apart

Marlene Dotterer

Copyright © 2013 by Marlene
Dotterer

Smashwords Edition

Cover design by Laura
Shinn

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the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction.
Characters, places, organizations, events, and dialogue are
products of the author’s imagination.

Acknowledgments

This book is a departure from my
previous stories and I have to confess to some nerves about it.
Perhaps that’s why I corralled so many people into reading it for
me, to catch mistakes and express opinions. I owe beer to a lot of
people.

The brave critiquers at the Online
Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror (OWW) saw
the earliest version and gave enthusiastic approval (yes, I’m
talking about you, Rhonda!), as well as spot-on criticisms that
made the story better. Rhonda Garcia, Amy Raby, David Fortier,
Jesse Bangs, and Darke Conteur remain faithful friends and good
judges these many years later. I’m a little surprised at how many
years it has been.

I was thrilled to have a fan
volunteer to read for me. I can’t imagine a better vote of
confidence. So a big “thank you!” to Ann Bresnan, and her daughter
Shay Bresnan, for kudos on what worked, and honest criticism for
what didn’t. Both of you had awesome ideas!

Closer to home, it turned out I
was a dangerous person to know. My dear, dear friends, Melani
Menendez-Barretto, Carol Valladao, and Diana Swantek lent me their
time and their eyesight to catch all those errors I always miss.
They did some amazing work and I am very grateful!

Thank you to my SFF crit group, Ed
Miracle, Lani Longshore, and Jordan Bernal, who always catch my
adverbs, and are relentless about point of view. You help me look
like a real writer. Let’s have champagne!

Chapter 1

An itch started in the back of
Tina Cassidy’s neck, spread to her shoulders, and turned into a
shudder as it crawled down her spine. The e-mail on her screen was
innocuous: a patient, Kathy Brayley, described symptoms of
intestinal distress, which hit her entire family before dawn. That
they had fevers made it a bit more serious than most stomach
ailments, but that was not enough to cause such a feeling of
foreboding.

She called Kathy and arranged to
obtain stool samples from each of them. Maybe the extra step would
calm her nerves.

After a brief conversation with
the patient, Tina typed up a quick note, shaking off one more
shiver of unease. Then she put it out of her mind while she saw her
scheduled patients. Shortly before closing, another family called
with the same symptoms.

There was no reason to think the
two cases might be related.

~~

Tina headed home after teaching a
diabetes nutrition class at the library, her mind already turning
to the evening ahead.

Change clothes, eat some dinner,
and play with Beowulf for a few minutes, then I need some time at
Eddie’s.

Her body wanted a night at the
club in Portland, but she was working tomorrow. A few drinks, one
or two games of pool, and some dancing were all she’d get
tonight.

It would do.

After a few minutes of teasing her
black cat with a string and flashlight, she stood in her underwear
in her bedroom closet, tapping her nose as she decided what to
wear. She was drawn to the new black dress, but it was far too
naughty for an evening at Eddie’s with men she considered
friends.

With a last glance at the dress,
she turned to the casual section of her closet and grabbed a pair
of jeans and a sweater. The sweater was pleasingly snug, with a
daring plunge to the neckline. The deep blue set off her black hair
and made her brown eyes appear larger under her arched brows. A
glance in the full-length mirror told her she looked sexy, but not
so much that she’d distract her friends.

It was just too bad there wasn’t
anyone to distract
her
.

~~

Maybe it was the Wild Turkey, but
Tina made the mistake of playing pool a little too well. Or more
likely, Mike Ormand’s prodigious beer drinking caused
him
to
play a little too badly. Either way, he lost his temper over
something and raised his arms to shake them at her.

Unfortunately, he still had his
cue stick in his hand. Tina could see he’d forgotten he was holding
it and she backed against the table behind her, keeping her eye on
the waving rod. Glasses clinked behind her. From his perch on a
stool, Jake Wilson slipped an arm around her waist and patted her
hip. “Easy there, darlin’.” His words slurred in her ear. “Don’t
wanna be spillin’ the slop, now do you?”

Tina ignored him. Mike stepped
closer, towering a foot above her head, the cue still
waving.

“Now Mike,” she said, “that was a
fair shot and you know it. The ball went in the pocket nice and
easy. It was just pure luck that your four-ball got hit out of the
way.”

Mike tended to be slow after a few
drinks, so he gave her words some thought. Tina sensed Jake was
ready to pull her out of the way if the cue inched closer. His
swaying upper body gave her doubt as to his usefulness in that
regard.

She was surprised when a light
baritone broke into their tableau. “I beg you, sir. For the sake of
your fellow men, please reconsider your actions.”

“Huh?” Mike turned to the fellow
who stood beside him, but he didn’t lower the stick. Tina glanced
without moving her head. The stranger was a few inches shorter than
Mike, clean-shaven, with light brown hair, and wearing a trim
suede-leather jacket. That's all she noticed, since she felt it was
important to keep an eye on Mike.

“I beg you,” the man repeated,
“not to mar the beauty we all find so entertaining. If you hit her
with your cue, there will be a bruise. We will all be
disappointed.”

Asshole,
Tina
thought.

The man continued, his voice
becoming grim. “Of course, if I see the smallest indication that
you might actually hit her, I would prevent your action. You would
not be pleased with the result.”

Okay, maybe not an
asshole.

Mike lowered the cue and shrugged.
“Wouldn't really hit her,” he said in a whiny tone. “But she's
robbin' me blind, and she knows I got kids to feed. She's got no
heart.”

A couple of nearby customers
guffawed at this and Tina rolled her eyes, sliding away from Jake
to put the table between her and Mike. “Hearts and pool are two
different games,” she said. “You didn't ask to play
hearts.”

“Tell you what.” The stranger
placed his half-empty glass on Jake’s table. “I'll take your spot
for this game. Give you time to relax and get your arm back. If I
win, you get the pot. If I lose, I'll pay your ante and you're out
nothing.”

Mike wasn't that slow. “Why in
hell would you do that? You don't know me from Adam.”

The stranger's smile relaxed as he
offered an innocent shrug. “I'm not doing it for you. I've been
trying to figure out how to get this woman's attention for an hour.
You're obviously regulars, and you know each other well. I couldn't
find an opportunity to break in until you lost your temper.” He
turned to Tina with a slight bow. “If the lady is willing to give
me a game?”

Tina’s lips twitched in response
to the raucous laughter this provoked, and she gave him a thorough
look. He was cute, in a scruffy kind of way. Straight brown hair
hung over his forehead. His eyes were an interesting golden-brown,
his face a bit craggy, as if his skin had a story to tell. Full
lips that were downright inviting. His body was trim, almost too
skinny. She figured he was thirty, maybe thirty-five.

And just might make up for missing
Portland.

She crossed her arms. “All right.
But you have to play me a second time. Double ante.”

He took Mike's cue. “I believe
it's your inning?” He gestured toward the pool table.

He looked her over as she came
around the table. She stopped a few feet from him, giving him
plenty of time to see what he wanted, not hiding her own casual
observation. His eyes met hers just as Jake chortled “she's found
some fresh meat,” which was heard over the crowd's ribald
encouragement. She smiled and stepped closer. “Welcome to Green
Roads, Oregon, Mr
…
?” She tilted her head
and held out her hand. The laughter quieted down as the others
waited to hear his name.

His smile was for her alone, but
he answered so everyone could hear. “Clive Winslow. At your
service.” His smile deepened as the crowd hooted its approval of
his phrasing. His hand squeezed hers, warm and gentle.

Tina suppressed the rising inner
flame his touch ignited and imitated his formality. “Tina Cassidy,”
she said with a dip of her head. She dropped his hand and strolled
to the pool table to pick up her cue before glancing back at him.
Yes, he just might make up for Portland.
“Services to be
determined.”

Chapter 2

Tina Cassidy surprised
him.

Clive was not expecting anything
interesting as he drove into Green Roads. The four-wheel drive he'd
rented in Portland made light work of the steep paths off the I-5.
He was in Oregon on business, and Green Roads was the town nearest
his final destination. The rain was cold and he was hungry when he
pulled into the parking lot of Eddie’s tavern. He'd already booked
a room. At eight o'clock on a Friday night, the tavern was crowded,
but he wasn't going to fight the weather to find a quiet place to
eat. He tossed his bag in his room and went down to the bar, taking
a small table in a corner and digging into a west coast version of
Yankee Pot Roast.

Halfway through his meal, he
noticed her. She was hard to miss. A crowd favorite, judging by the
cheers and calls that accompanied her arrival. He perked up to see
her, although at first he wasn't thinking about picking her up. She
was just nice to watch, a confident, pretty woman, poured into her
clothes, with an easy laugh and teasing manner. She was about
five-five, thirtyish, with dark brown and gold-streaked hair that
kissed her shoulders when she moved. Her aura intrigued him. There
was something about it that hinted at magic, and he wondered if she
knew about that part of herself. Some Flatlanders did have magic
abilities, although Clive rarely saw them.

He watched an apparent ritual
unfold as she flirted with all the guys and they brightened under
her attention. None of them had a chance in hell with her, and they
all seemed to know it.

Then she started playing
pool.

He watched her bending over the
table from various angles, sometimes catching a glimpse down the
'v' of her sweater, sometimes the curve of her profile. Best of all
was when her round ass was offered to his view, and he prayed she'd
take her time setting up the shot. He didn't know if
he
had
a chance with her either, and for a while, he knew he couldn't risk
finding out. Standing would have been too embarrassing.