Winter Adams struggled with the umbrella and finally gave up. She let the strong wind take it and watched as it hit a parked car and went rolling down the street. I should have taken my raincoat, she mumbled. Keeping her head down, to avoid the water from getting in her eyes, she quickly made her way toward the bar. She knew she should have just gone home. Why did she ever agree to meet with this client at a bar? The antique shop was doing very well, so it was not like she needed the money. She was grateful for that much. Winter wanted to sell as much of the merchandise from the New York store. There were too many memories to deal with.
Making the move from New York to Washington had been a big step. Closing down the store in Brooklyn had been difficult. More difficult had been leaving her friends and all the memories of Jake behind. Jake had been kind enough to leave her the business. The very thought of her former fiancee made her want to scream. After four years together he decided it wouldn't work out. She would always remember that day, eight months ago, when he had come home . . .
Winter sat at the desk trying to decide which invitations she should go with. She really liked the parchment paper ones, but the traditional ones were more Jake's style. When she heard him turn the key and enter their Brooklyn loft, she had gone to him with both samples in hand.
"Honey, what's wrong?" she had asked. Looking into his dark eyes she knew it was bad. Over the past year she had come to know his moods and knew when to pry and when to stay quiet. Winter watched as he removed his winter coat and threw it over the armchair. He ran his hand through his short, black hair. Jake was six feet tall with a muscular build. Broad shoulders, slim hips and long lean legs made Winter shudder every time she saw him naked. He was the kind of man who attracted women like flies. Yet here he was with her, Winter Adams, Miss Average American Woman.
"I have to go," he said quietly. Jake Morgan avoided looking into his lover's eyes. He didn't want to see the pain he was about to cause.
"Again? Will you back in time for dinner?" Winter asked.
"No. I won't be back at all."
"Excuse me?" she asked, not believing what she had just heard.
"I won't be back," he repeated.
Winter sat next to the man she loved, the man she was planning to marry. "Jake, what are you saying? What's happened?"
"It's over Winter. We're over." Jake stood up and headed to the bedroom. Winter followed and saw him retrieve a suitcase from the closet.
"I don't understand. It's over? Just like that." She watched as he started filling the suitcase. "What is it you're not telling me?" she asked.
"Nothing! Don't you get it?! I don't want to marry you! It's over!" he yelled in reply.
"I don't believe you! Yesterday you told me you couldn't wait to marry me. Today it's over!? I want to know what's wrong!" Walking to him, she grabbed his arm. "Jake, tell me."
Turning to face her he said, "I . . . I don't love you. I never have."
"You're lying." She said.
"No, I'm not. I'm sorry." With that said, he had walked out. Several weeks later she had received notice that he had signed over his half of the antique store to her. She tried finding him, not willing to believe what he had told her. Jake Morgan had disappeared without a trace. As suddenly as he had come into her life, he had disappeared just as quickly . . .
Now here she was in Seacouver, trying to start over, trying to forget.
Upon seeing the neon sign, she sighed. Winter quickly entered the bar and music filled her ears. She scanned the bar, trying to find the man she was suppose to meet. Sheila, her assistant, had given her a description of the man who had asked swords in the glass case. According to Sheila, Duncan MacLeod was very interested in the items and wanted to meet with her tonight. Not seeing anyone who fit his description she took a seat at a nearby table and gave her order to the waitress.
Winter retrieved a hair pin from her purse and piled her dark auburn tresses on top of her head. Looking in the mirror, she frowned. Long gone was the makeup she had applied that morning. Drops of rain fell from her hair onto the table. I look like a drowned cat, she thought. While she waited for her drink, she glanced around the bar. There were four women at a nearby table giggling. They were all perfectly dressed and made up. She looked down at her lilac colored suit and frowned. Wet, she was all wet. She also observed that they were absolutely gorgeous and thin. At 5'4 and a bit overweight, Winter was not exactly model material. She did, however, workout and eat healthily. Winter was confident in her abilities at attracting the opposite sex, although lately it was the furthest thing from her mind.
Since Jake's abandonment she had not felt up to dating. The opening of the antique shop three months ago had kept her very busy. Now with everything in place and running smoothly she felt lonely. Winter hadn't gone out much except to go with Sheila to a movie once or twice. Maybe it was time to get back in circulation. Jake was in her past . . . forever.
"Excuse me, are you Miss Adams?"
Winter looked up at the tall man with the long, dark hair. She suppressed the urge to laugh aloud. Here she was thinking about Jake and in walks a man who could pass for his brother. Sheila had not exaggerated when she said he was divine. "Please call me Winter. I assume you are Mr. Duncan MacLeod?"
"Yes. I'm sorry I'm late. I...ran into a little trouble. Can I order you a drink?" he asked.
"No, I've already ordered, thank you. Please sit." Winter motioned to the chair opposite her. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Removing his trenchcoat he placed it carefully over one of the empty chairs. Duncan MacLeod was a handsome man. His dark eyes seemed to tell a million stories all at once. He wore jeans and a midnight blue turtleneck. His muscles moved beneath it as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing well-developed forearms. She felt herself blushing at the thought of how his arms would feel around her. It had been a long time since she'd been with a man.
The bartender appeared with Winter's drink and one for Duncan. "I didn't order this, Mike," he said.
"It was sent by the ladies at the table over there," he replied pointing to the four women Winter had observed earlier. "They'd like for you to join them."
Winter looked at the women and saw them wave at Duncan MacLeod. Well, I guess this will be a short meeting.
"Do me a favor, will you? Tell them I said thanks, but I'm *occupied* for the evening."
Duncan MacLeod turned his attention back on Winter Adams.
"Please, don't do that on my account Mr. MacLeod. We can reschedule." Her grey eyes met his brown ones, hoping he would take her up on her offer.
"It's Duncan and there is no need to reschedule. I'm anxious to get started." Smiling he added, "They're not my type anyway."
That smile almost did Winter in. Stop it! A man like Mr. MacLeod is probably married or otherwise taken. "Not your type? I would think they would be any man's type," she laughed.
The way she threw her head back when she laughed was becoming. Duncan could tell this woman was at ease with herself and others. "Let's put it this way," he said, leaning in toward her, "I'm not interested in women who are constantly primping themselves."
Winter noticed the four women gazing into their hand-held mirrors. "Well, then we can get down to business." Handing him some papers she watched as he examined them. She noticed how he bit down on his lower lip in concentration. She stared at his bottom lip wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Oh boy, it's getting hot in here!
"I'm sorry, did you say something." Duncan asked, raising his head.
"Talking to myself, bad habit," she answered.
"These papers seem to be in order. When can I see the items?" he asked. Duncan looked up and noticed her face was flushed. "Are you ok?"
"I'm fine. I think the rain went right through my skin," she said. "The items are in my trunk. Uh . . . it's still raining outside. I don't think it would be wise to bring them in here. Maybe I can bring them to you tomorrow."
"I don't live far from here. You can follow me home," he said.
"Wouldn't you rather see them at the shop? I...mean . . . " Winter hesitated.
Noticing her reluctance, Duncan said, "I'm sorry. That wasn't a come on. I just . . . "
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to join us?" Duncan and Winter turned to see the pretty blonde walking up to them. "My friends and I are willing to share," she cooed.
"I'm sorry. I have plans already," he apologized.
"Maybe next time when you're not so . . . overloaded," she replied in Winter's direction.
She sauntered back to her table and said something that made her friends laugh.
Duncan started to say something but Winter interrupted. "I'll follow you to your place. There's no point in wasting time. I'm sure you're anxious to get your hands on them. I mean . . . on the merchandise." Following him out, she winked at the four women as she passed their table. She heard one of them say, "Can you believe that? He's taking her home!"
The rain was coming down in buckets and with it lightning. Turning the key to start the car, she frowned. The engine refused to turn. She tried again. "What a day! What else can go wrong?"
Duncan approached her white BMW and tapped the window. "Car trouble, huh?"
Winter nodded.
"Come in my car." He opened her door and led her to his t-bird. Once they reached the building, he grabbed her hand and they ran up the stairs to the dojo.
In the loft, Duncan started a fire and reached inside one of the drawers. "Why don't you go take a shower? Your clothes can dry by the fire," he said and handed her an old shirt.
"That's not necessary. I'll . . . "
"Your clothes are all wet. You don't want to catch pneumonia do you?" he smiled.
Winter looked into this stranger's eyes looking for a sign of bad intent. "Thank you."
Duncan showed her to the bathroom and left her to her task. He went into the kitchen to make coffee.
Winter quietly left the bathroom and started toward the kitchen. His shirt came down to her knees, which she was thankful for. Winter watched as he opened cabinet doors and opened the refrigerator. This man was definitely domesticated. I bet he can cook too.
"Cook? Sometimes I do. Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Uh..no...I was just talking to myself."
"You do that a lot, don't you?" Duncan smiled at her. "I can make something quick."
"If it's not too much trouble. I am kind of hungry."
Duncan set himself on pulling together a simple dinner of grilled chicken and a vegetable salad. While waiting for the chicken to cook, he looked over at Winter as she set her wet clothes by the fireplace. Duncan saw the silhouette of her body through his shirt. She was not thin like the women at the bar. He figured she was about twenty pounds over her ideal weight. That wasn't bad, given the fact that those pounds gave her generous curves. His brain took the image of her curves in his mind and wondered how they would respond under his touch.
Turning his attention back to dinner, he detected that his brain wasn't the only body part interested in Winter. He willed himself to think about other things to squelch his evident desire. Duncan served the chicken and vegetable salad, hoping that when he turned around she would still be facing the fireplace.
"Dinner's ready," he announced.
"I get the feeling you've done this before," she said, rather impressed at how quickly he pulled everything together.
"A few times," he grinned, pouring the wine.
"Just a few? I find that hard to believe," she said locking his eyes with hers.
"Why?"
"A man as...as . . . *talented* as you, no doubt entertains often." Winter knew she was playing a dangerous game. She barely knew this man and here she was flirting with him. Why? It had been eight months since Jake had made love to her, that's why. It was time to get over him and what better way than with Duncan MacLeod. He might not think her his type, but it was worth a shot.
"Not really. I'm very selective in the company I keep," he said not breaking eye contact. Well, well, he thought. She was flirting with him. "And you? Do you entertain often?"
Winter lifted the glass to her lips and tasted the sweet wine. "No. But I think I'll start again. It's been too long since I've let my hair down and had fun."
"Sounds like love gone wrong," he said.
"Something like that," she smiled. "But what is that old saying . . . It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
"Do you believe that?" Duncan knew that if it hadn't been for Tessa he would never have known what real love was. Her death three years ago had devastated him but it was her love that had given him the strength to go on without her. He would not have given up loving her for anything.
"Yes I do. Imagine living your life without loving and being loved in return. It would be pretty sad. We take a chance when we fall in love. There are never any guarantees." Taking another sip she added, "Although, I like the other saying better."
"Which one?" he asked. Duncan felt relaxed in the company of this woman. She was the kind of person who would find something in common with just about anybody.
"If you love someone set them free. If they come back to you, they are yours. If they don't, hunt them down and kill them."
Duncan frowned, then saw her biting her lips to prevent herself from laughing. "You had me going there for a minute," he grinned.
"I know. You should have seen the look on your face." She started to laugh and couldn't stop. "I'm . . . sorry . . . but . . . you . . . " Looking at his face she continued laughing. "You . . . looked . . . so . . . horrified . . . "
Duncan laughed and poured more wine. "Here's to love!" he said, lifting his glass to offer a toast.
"To love!" she agreed. As she reached for the glass, her elbow hit the wine bottle sending it crashing to the floor. "Oh, no. I'm sorry." Winter stood up to pick up the broken glass.
"Don't worry about it. I'll clean it up," he said, bending down.
"I'll help."
Reaching for a piece of the glass under the table they bumped heads. Duncan cursed under his breath. "Ow!"
"Are you all right?" Blood gushed his palm and she quickly grabbed a napkin. "Here, let me clean that for you."
"It's ok. I'm fine. It's just a scratch," he said, trying to pull his hand away.
"It's not a scratch! Look at all that blood." She led him to the kitchen and ran his hand under the water.
Duncan knew he had to make a fast getaway to the bathroom. "Let me bandage my hand."
Winter shook her head. "No, I'll do it." Reaching for a clean napkin she dried his injured hand.
"Where are the . . . ?" The wound healed right before her eyes.
"I can explain," said Duncan. He would have to tell her the truth and hope that she would believe him and keep it a secret. "I'm . . .
"Immortal! You're Immortal, aren't you?" she asked.
Duncan nodded. "How do you know?"
Winter told him . . .
Winter knew Jake was hiding something from her. She could only guess that it was the fact that she had told him that she couldn't have children. Winter knew Jake loved children. It was evident by the way he carried on with his friends' kids. The children adored him and called him Uncle Jake. The sadness in his eyes when she had told him about her inability to have any broke her heart. Maybe he wanted to break it off. Winter paced the floor of her apartment. He was late. If only . . . Winter rushed to the front door and opened it.
"Jake! You're here," she said surprised.
"We do have a date, don't we?" he smiled entering the small apartment.
"Yes . . . but. well . . . " Winter did not know how to bring the subject up.
"What? Is something wrong?" he said.
"You've been so distant lately . . . I . . . figured after what I told you last week . . . that maybe . . . "
"That maybe I wanted to break it off?"
Winter nodded.
"No, I don't." Jake hugged her and led her to the Victorian chaise. Sitting he took her hands in his. "But there is something I have to tell you . . . I don't know where to begin . . . You see . . . "
"You're married," she stated.
Jake laughed. "No, I'm not married. I'm . . . "
"Engaged."
"No. it's . . . "
"You're an undercover agent . . . " she said getting worried.
"Winter! Let me get in a word will you?" he laughed.
"I'm sorry. Go ahead," she said.
"There's no other way to say it . . . I'm . . . "
"You're a criminal," she said standing up.
"Sit and be quiet," he said pulling her down. "Winter, I love you with all my heart. It's been a year since we've been together and I think it's time you know the one thing I've been keeping from you . . . " Jake paused.
"Well!! Don't keep me in suspense . . . "
"I'm Immortal. I'm 250 years old and I can't die unless someone takes my head." A week later they had moved in together . . .
Winter's body shook and she tried steadying herself. "My . . . oh boy . . . this . . . "
"Let's sit." Duncan put his arm around her waist and led her to the couch. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine. I've just never met another Immortal before," she said. "Jake Morgan . . . my ex-finance is . . . was . . . is an Immortal."
"Is that why you broke up? Because he was Immortal."
"No. It had nothing to do with that . . . at least I don't think it did." Winter met his eyes and for an instant it was like looking into Jake's eyes. Shaking her head she stood up. "You're Immortal! How old are you? Have you taken many heads? How many countries have you lived in? What . . . "
"Whoa, slow down!" he laughed sitting down.
"I'm sorry. It's just that it's . . . it's . . . so . . . amazing!" Sitting beside him she took the healed hand in her own and examined it. "It's fascinating," she said running her finger along his palm. "I saw Jake heal before my eyes many times . . . " Winter released his hand. "What kind of sword do you have?"
"Katana. I...."
"Do you collect them? Is that why you wanted the ones from my shop? Or do you use different swords depending on who you're going to behead? Why . . . "
"Very inquisitive aren't you?" he smiled.
"Oh no!" she gasped.
"What?"
"The swords! They're still in my car back at Joe's!" she laughed. "Wasn't that the whole purpose of me coming here?" Winter stood up and then sat back down. "I'm losing it. When Jake told me of his immortality . . . well . . . it was . . . unbelievable. I accepted it, but . . . wow . . . you're Immortal. How many of you are there? How many heads have you taken? I mean . . . I know it's not easy doing that . . . but . . . well . . . "
Duncan did the only thing he could think of to keep her from talking. He kissed her.
Part 2
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