The pain was incredible! Just when he didn't think he could run another step, new urges would force him forward. He could barely breathe for the pain, each pounding step sent burning sensations up his legs. He couldn't stop, because if they caught him there would be no telling what would happen to him. There had to be some place! Some place where he could hide and be safe!

The wet pavement suddenly seemed to slip out from under his smooth soled dress shoes and threw him to into the corner of a bay window. His body was reeling from the sudden stop, but he could hear them behind him. His desperation forced him to his feet and his hand yanked open the door to the ancient New Orleans shop. A dark head looked up at him as he stood with his back to the door and his chest heaved with pain from every breath.

"Help me!" he gasped.

She ran out from behind the counter she was sitting and rushed to his aid. She pushed him to his left and proceeded to tuck him under a seat of a bay window. There was no door; no covering and anyone could've seen him if they had entered the shop.

Suddenly the door opened and the fearsome crowd was there. All that stood between him and them was a tiny slip of a girl with wild curly black hair and pale white skin.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Did you see someone come in here?" one of the young girls panted.

"No. Whoever you are looking for isn't here." She said with a strict tone.

"No, I saw him come in here." A second girl said.

"You did not see what you thought. You are going to leave." The woman said.

"Come on, Becky. He's not here, let's go." The first girl said, taking the others with her. The second girl was not easily swayed.

"I know I saw him come in here." She insisted.

"I said get out." The woman said.

"Okay, whatever." Then second girl finally left.

The woman went to where he was curled in a ball, under the bay window and held out her hand. Fear paralyzed him as she reached out to him.

"You're safe now. Please. Come out." She said. He crawled out and took her offer to help him up. Her hand was warm to the touch and strong. "See?" she said, "Everything is going to be all right."

"Thank you. . ." he said, still trying to catch his breath.

"Come here, sit by the fire. You must be chilled to the bone. You're soaked through." She said, taking him to a roaring fire to the right of the store's front door. He hesitated as they passed the window. Someone was peering in. Almost absently, she waved an open palm between the peering girl and him. "She can not see you. C'mon now, it's all right, sit." She helped him out of his sports coat and hung it on a round rack by the fire. She directed him toward a high-backed chair with a matching ottoman.

The shop was an old bookstore with bookshelves reaching to the ceiling. The cashier's counter was directly in front of the door, about half way back. The fireplace sat to the right of both, before the counter. It was an old stone fireplace, decorated with an old Oriental rug spread out before the hearth in faded colors of red and gold. It smelled of warmth and old books.

She pulled his shoes off without asking and placed them near his jacket to dry. She left him there and returned shortly with a wash cloth. His breathing was still rapid and broken, and the chill she spoke of was starting to set in. She put the cloth to his face and it was wet and warm. It smelled of lavender and he involuntarily breathed it in. She set to wiping the sweat and grime from his face and then his hands from when he had fallen. His body gave out a shiver and she reached for the bottom of his cable knit sweater.

"You are too wet, this needs to come off. Don't fuss." She chided him and she pulled it up over his head to reveal nothing but a white tee shirt. "I will get you a blanket." She appeared with a blue and gray quilt that smelled of the same lavender. He leaned forward and she wrapped it around his shoulders and tucked it around his chest. She pulled up the ottoman and sat there facing him.

She had the most incredible dark eyes he had ever seen. They were pools of obsidian. Her wild dark hair was restrained by a clip at the top of her head and one at the nape of her neck and fell to the middle of her back. She was shorter than he was. She wore a gray baby-tee and a relaxed cut of jeans with a casual black shoe. She wore no jewelry that he could tell. Her skin was startling white and utterly flawless, almost translucent. She acted as though she had no idea who he was.

"My name is Raven." She said, smiling. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are."

His breath had returned and he put out his best show biz handshake.

"My name is Howie."

She shook his hand. "It is nice to meet you Howie." She smiled. "Do you mind if I ask why those girls were chasing you?"

"They are fans."

"Fans?" she asked, "Are you famous?"

"Yes, you could say that." He said, lifting an unbelieving eyebrow. She really didn't seem to know who he was.

"Should I?"

"Huh?"

"Should I know who you are?" she asked, "Are you an actor?"

"No." he smiled.

"But you want to be." She guessed.

"Yes, someday, maybe. I'm with the Backstreet Boys." He said, but she only shook her head. "We're a pop singing group."

"I'm afraid I don't have a radio." She said.

"Do you watch MTV?" he asked, but she looked at him like she didn't understand. "It's on TV."

"I don't have a TV." She nodded.

No wonder she hadn't heard of them, he thought. She only had these old books.

"I only have these books." She said, waving to the shelves. "Let me get you some tea to help warm you." She said getting to her feet.

Howie stared into the fire and shook his head. This was a rarity for sure. He might have actually met someone had no idea of who the Backstreet Boys were. What a trip. When she returned, she handed him a white ceramic mug with an herbal tea that was one of his favorites. She had nursed it with lemon and honey.

"Are you on a trip?" she asked.

"What? How did you know?" he asked as she sat with her cup on the ottoman.

"You aren't from here." She said.

"No, I'm from Orlando. That's in Florida."

She let out a little giggle. "I know where Orlando is. Is your tea all right? Is it how you like it?"

"Yes, it's perfect." He said.

"Good, it isn't often I meet men who like to sweeten their tea." She smiled, "So, Howie, do you read?"

"Uh, sure." He replied.

"Good. I have a book I think you will like. You can read it while you sit here and dry off." She handed him a old hardcopy of a graying book, titled: "The Spanish Invasion."

"It is a wonderful story. It's actually fiction, but good fiction." She said, standing over him. "I need to go and work on the receipts for today. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, thank you." He said. She slid the ottoman near his feet and he stretched out his legs and set his feet down.

A clap of thunder wailed in the distance, but they paid it no mind. The fire roared at his feet and she toiled at the counter with paper and pencil. He opened the book and began at chapter one.

The storm raged on for hours after he fell asleep. His dreams took him far away from the screaming fans, the demands of his work and worries of his family. The heat from the fire began to enter his body and he stayed where he was until she woke him a few hours later.

Her hand gently lay on his knee, shaking him hesitantly. "Howie?" she asked, peering down at him. "Howie, you need to wake up. I'm afraid you will be late if I let you sleep much longer."

His brown eyes opened on to her smiling face and her warm hand smoothing his cheek, one finger tracing the line along his bearded jaw. A manicured finger tapped the tip of his nose. "It is time for you to go." She smiled.

How could he move? He had never felt like this before. He was so warm and comforted that he almost decided he never wanted to leave. She took his sweater from the chair, gave it a shake, brushing some debris from the back, and then picked up his shoes. He had sat up; setting the book that had been resting across his chest aside on a side table. She handed him his shoes first. He sat up and laid the blanket back instantly sending a shiver down his body. She bunched up the sweater and carefully placed it over his head. She pulled his ponytail from the collar as he pulled his arms through the sleeves and adjusted them. Her hands ran down his arms and she took his hands.

"This should help drive that nasty chill from you." She gave his hands a gentle tug, encouraging him to lean down toward her. Her cheek grazed his and he felt heady from the scent of her. She lingered with her cheek against his and Howie pulled away first.

"How can I thank you?" he whispered.

"There's no need. I enjoyed having you. I sometimes don't have visitors for long periods of time." She smiled with a shrugged. "It's I who should be thanking you."

"I was hardly good company. I fell asleep." He joked.

"You were running pretty hard when you hit my window. You must ache all over. Here, I want you to take this." She said, letting go of his hands and reaching around him to pick up the book. She handed it to him for him to take. He took it and tucked it under his arm. "I think you'll finish it some day."

"I think so, too. It is a great story." He said. "How much to I owe you?"

"For what? The book, oh, nothing. It's a gift." She said.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, they are my books. I can give them to anyone I want." She laughed. "Here, I can even give you a bookmark." She went to the counter and brought back a paper bookmark. She took the book from under his arm and tucked it into the pages. She playfully lifted his arm and tucked it back under. He chuckled with her.

"Thank you, Raven. I almost don't want to leave." He said, taking her hands this time.

"You can't stay. I have to close up soon." She said, looking up at him. Her left hand left his and she reached for his face again. It seemed she was fighting something by the way she hesitated. He trapped her hand in his and brought it to his face. She traced the line of his bearded jaw again, her fingertips coming to rest under his chin. He leaned in, pulling her into his arms, but she turned her face away as his lips barely grazed hers. She slipped her arms around his body and buried her face into his sweater. He could feel his heart racing beneath her cheek. She pushed away and took a couple steps back.

"You need to go, you're going to be late." She said.

"Can I call you? I'm in town until tomorrow night, can I stop by again?" he asked.

"I don't think you'll ever need to." She smiled.

"Of course I do. I'll need to see you." He said.

She walked by him and opened the door. She was smiling warmly at him as she held door for him. "C'mon now!" she laughed, "I can't have you being late for your singing tonight."

He returned her smile as he reached for his jacket. He pulled it on as he walked toward the open door. He put one arm around her, pulled her close, and simply kissed her cheek.

"Good-bye, Howie." She whispered.