Trust Fund

"Give me more," the young woman murmured. Bo Hancock smiled in his measured way, the hint of emo-tion veiled by midnight. He was enjoying the multitude of bright stars filling a moonless sky, the scent of Melissa's perfume blend-ing with the sweet smells of spring, and the absolute serenity of this place he dearly loved. They might have been the only two people on earth, but that was the estate's charm. It made him feel safe. Bo had grown up here, exploring every corner of the es-tate's vast forest as a child. He knew it better than anyone. He'd played touch football on the great lawn in front of the playhouse with his father, brothers, uncles, and cousins before Thanksgiving dinner each year, the soft grass blanketed thinly by snow some Novembers, bathed in warm sunshine others. He'd canoed and swum in the cold, clear lake in summer and played hockey on its ice in winter. And he had experienced his first kiss beside the lake at fifteen, hidden with the girl in a grove of sweet-smelling cedar trees. "What do you mean, Melissa?" Bo asked, his gravelly voice made even rougher by his fondness for alcohol and tobacco. "Give you more what?" He knew exactly what she meant. The young woman brushed against him as they stood on the smooth granite of the mansion's back veranda. "More of your words-to-live-by," she answered, mesmerized by his voice. It was gruff for a young man, but oddly reassuring too. Like a shovel scraping rock and a cat purring at the same time. "Oh, I see," Bo said, drawing his words out. He took a drag on his cigarette before beginning. "The best relationship you ever know will be the one in which you love each other for your faults--not despite them." "That's nice," Melissa said as his words dispersed slowly in the stillness of the evening, her voice all at once as raspy as his. Bo chuckled softly. He had finally broken through her ve-neer of detachment. He understood why she needed that barrier, but it had gotten in the way of any meaningful conversation be-tween them. He looked away from the many points of light sus-pended above them to admire her silhouette. She was tall and statuesque, with long, jet-black hair and eyes as dark and mysteri-ous as the surrounding woods. "You weren't expecting anything quite so romantic," he said. "Were you?" "I don't know," she answered, trying to sound indifferent. "How about this one?" Bo suggested, his tone lighter. He realized that he had caught her off guard and that she needed a lifeline. Saving people was one of the two things he enjoyed most in life, particularly when he had introduced the danger. And that was the other. He took a swallow of scotch. "Make certain you approach both love and cooking with reckless abandon." Melissa's laugh was genuine. "What on earth does that mean?" "It means I'm willing to risk burning down the kitchen in pursuit of the perfect meal," he answered, a wry smile on his full lips. Melissa tried to suppress her answering smile, but couldn't help herself. He liked the way her eyes caught the starlight, and the way her long black hair shimmered down her back. She was a beautiful woman, and on one level he understood his brother's need for her. "It means approach every day as if it's your last. Never second-guess, never look back." Again Bo's words resonated in the silence of the night. "It's all those things." Melissa tried to regain her composure, but Bo had a way about him. She wanted to confide in him, to feel his powerful arms wrapped around her. She sensed that he would understand her anguish. But none of that was possible. BoFrey, Stephen is the author of 'Trust Fund', published 2002 under ISBN 9780345428301 and ISBN 0345428307.