Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  She, of course, handled a horse as well as a car since Central Pennsylvania was a mecca for equine stables. With mountains, pastures, and valleys to ride plus the abundance of Amish with traditional horse and buggy on the road, one couldn’t drive two miles without seeing a stud service or hay for sale. But she laughed at Deems’ story, because visions of a handsome man on a white stallion stayed in her mind, a man sitting tall in the saddle, like Prince Charming coming to rescue the fair maiden—albeit with muffled screams. Stretching, she kissed his cheek.

  He jerked back, eyes wide. “What was that for?”

  “For not hurting the horse.”

  “Humph.” A smiled tugged at his mouth.

  Arriving with their appetizer, the food server placed a plate of bacon-wrapped figs before them.

  Lauren served Deems two then helped herself to the remaining two. She cut one in half, sampled the fruit, and then swooned. “These are good. He drizzled balsamic over them.”

  In no time, they polished off the appetizer.

  Dabbing a napkin to her mouth, she smiled. “This place is nice, Deems. Thank you.”

  He grabbed her hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. “If you told me about the dress, I’d have made arrangements before the evening started.”

  Shrugging, she sipped her wine. “I went on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. Since Antonio tortured us all week, he cut our day shorter than we anticipated. The women in our class gave me the names of some shops within my price range.” She met his gaze and smiled. “You deserved to see me in something other than blue jeans.”

  “You’re beautiful, Lauren.” Without breaking eye contact, he lifted her hand to his lips.

  His gaze darkened. The honey gaze connected to hers was so warm and tender, she couldn’t look away. Her heart melted, and tears threatened behind her eyes. She was falling for this man, and every argument to counter the feeling sounded so lame. Oh, God, what should I do? Suppressing the lump in her throat, she stared at her wine glass. “We shouldn’t have let ourselves become so involved.”

  With a soft touch of his hand on her cheek, he returned her gaze to his. “I don’t regret a second of our time together. Yes, we will have difficulty saying goodbye, but I intend to relish every minute together. Who knows? Maybe you’ll love me enough to stay.”

  She already loved him and wanted the man for the duration of time but struggled with the conflict of telling him so. Unable to form words, she kissed his soft lips. He deepened the kiss, and every muscle in her body released its tension. She swore she’d slip right off the bench seat and onto the floor so, as an anchor, she grabbed hold of his suit lapel. Somewhere during those few moments, she became vaguely aware of the food server who removed their empty appetizer dish, topped off their wine glasses, and disappeared as quietly as he came.

  Deems touched the very edges of her soul and gripped her heart in ways never experienced. She was powerless to stop the yearnings he created—ones of love, security, and an overwhelming sense of peace. He had proven life wasn’t so bad after all.

  Someone cleared his throat. They broke their lip-lock to see the server pointing to their entrees.

  “Please forgive the interruption,” he whispered. With a smile tugging his mouth, the man backed away and disappeared.

  The aromas of herbs and onions were enough to break them apart. Deems ordered stuffed pork chops with a delectable blend of rosemary and garlic, tiny potatoes, and asparagus. Hers was a petit filet mignon, medium rare, smothered with mushrooms and wine sauce.

  They dug in.

  Between the mouth-watering food, splendid wine, and Deems’ company, she erased Jo-Jo from the inner recesses of her mind. What’s done was done, and she wanted nothing more to do with her ex. He was no comparison to Deems, and she silently thanked Jo-Jo for ending their engagement. She sipped her wine. “How long has Lou followed me?”

  Before answering, he shoved a potato slice into his mouth, chewed, and then swallowed. “Since the day he transported you to the condo.” His gaze searched her face. “Please don’t be mad. Eric’s close proximity bothered me.”

  How could she possibly be mad at a man for watching her back? God, how I love him! Her heart felt so damn full. She fed him a piece of her meat. He returned the gesture and fed her a bite of his pork. Her eyes rolled at the succulent blend of rosemary and butter. “Boy, that’s good.” She buttered a petite roll. “What about Lou’s chauffeur job? What does the boss say about him following me around all day?”

  He dabbed his napkin on his mouth. “Lou’s entitled to days off, and the company has several drivers as backup. Remind me to give you Lou’s cell number. If you’re in for the day, tell him. He also won’t follow if I’m with you.”

  Swirling a slice of mushroom into the wine sauce, she suppressed a smile. “I’m glad. I want you all to myself.”

  Deems finished the last morsel on his plate and leaned back with a hand on his belly. He glanced her way, gaze sparkling. “Until morning?”

  “You know damn well that’s what I mean.” Her mouth lifted at the corners. “We still have half a string of condoms to use.”

  Chuckling, he fingered a strand of her hair. “I like how you think. Waste not, want not, right?”

  “The ever-practical country girl, that’s me.” She resisted the urge to lick the plate clean. Instead, she crossed her fork and knife in the center.

  Deems tapped his fingers on the tablecloth and eyed her. “For your information, I have a fresh supply in my pocket—in case we run out.”

  We’ll use every last one or my name isn’t Lauren Howell. She would miss him but wanted him to miss her more, even as he eventually walked down the aisle with a bride on his arm. She sure as hell would remember him and gulped the last of her wine to swallow the sadness creeping into her heart.

  A man in a chef’s uniform hurried to the table, all smiles. “Deems, so glad to see you. Did you enjoy the meal?”

  Deems gestured with a kiss to his fingertips. “Excellent, Frederic, as always.” Then, he kissed Lauren’s hand. “Meet Lauren Howell.”

  The man took her outstretched hand and patted the top and bottom. “You like my place?”

  “I love everything, Frederic.”

  “I’m pleased, mademoiselle.” He slapped his hands together. “Well, I won’t keep you two apart. Deems, stop by for a drink sometime.”

  “I will, Frederic. Thanks for seating us on short notice.”

  “Anytime, my friend.”

  As Frederic stopped at other tables, she nudged Deems. “If you’ve only been here once with your parents, how does he know your name?”

  A faint smile touched his lips. “When I can, I help small businesses. Frederic needed money, so I lent him some.”

  “Wow, that’s really nice.”

  He shook his head. “Purely a business arrangement.”

  The server arrived to remove their empty plates. He used a small hand-held vacuum to suck the loose crumbs on the tablecloth, and then reset the table for coffee and dessert, which followed immediately. “Compliments of Frederic.” He grinned and disappeared.

  Lauren stared at the huge tower of chocolate. “I’ll never get this whatever it is into my stomach!” The dessert was a work of art with curls of chocolate surrounding either a pudding or cake.

  “Nonsense. The sugar will give you energy. As for me, looking at you gives me enough stimulus, but I see Frederic gave me his signature custard-filled cake.” He took her hand and kissed the fingers before lowering it to his lap.

  She gasped at where he placed her hand, for he was hard and ready. She leaned close to his ear. “Are you telling me something?”

  His gaze glowed. “That’s what you do to me.”

  “Is that a fact?” She massaged the protrusion.

  Eyes widening, he nearly jumped off the seat.

  Thank God for the tablecloth.

  “Are you ready to leave?”

  She almost laughed at the plea in his voice. “I haven’
t tasted my dessert yet. Does this place provide doggie bags?”

  He groaned into his coffee cup. “Maybe I can wolf down a few spoonfuls.”

  “Good idea. Eat some of the tower.” Gaze twinkling, she wiggled her eyebrows. “I don’t want you to slacken off tonight.”

  He exaggerated a gasp with a hand to his chest. “Never!”

  Chuckling, she started on her dessert, ever careful to take her time to savor every bite.

  He, on the other hand, gobbled his dessert without stopping and then sat back and watched her.

  Finished, she dabbed a cloth napkin to her mouth.

  Without wasting a second, he leaned close. “Ready?”

  “Depends.” She shot him a wry grin. “Only if you’re ready to experience the vigor of a country girl after you’ve wined and dined her.”

  His arm shot into the air to catch the attention of the server.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next morning, Deems exited the elevator, whistling. He whistled a lot these days. No particular tune. Just a happy-go-lucky tempo because of the woman upstairs. His feet refused to touch the floor, and for the first time in years, he considered canceling an appointment. After all, today was Saturday, a day to sleep in and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman. But he’d agreed to a business breakfast with a prospective high-rise client from Alaska. The meeting should only take a few hours, and Lou called to say he stood ready with the limo at the curb. Since Lauren tested the durability of one too many condoms last night, she should be zonked until mid-afternoon. Once he returned, they’d start all over again. He smiled at the thought.

  “Mr. Lambert?”

  Robert’s voice broke into his reverie. The impeccably-dressed security guard stood behind his counter with a frown creasing his forehead. A brow raised, Deems strolled to the desk. “Yes?”

  “You wanted to know if Drummer returned? Last night, he walked in and headed straight for the stairwell. When Johnny stopped him, Drummer demanded to see Ms. Howell, but she just left in a cab.” Frown deepening, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Then, he requested to go to her floor and leave a note under the door. Of course, that’s not allowed, and he refused to leave the note with Johnny. Apparently, he knew which floor.” He shifted the gun holster on his hip.

  Deems gave Robert a one-eyed gaze. “Drummer headed for the stairwell?” Heat flushing from his collar, he silently cursed. Jan knew the Stewarts, where they lived, and on what floor. Despite her brother’s warning, she told Eric. How friggin’ stupid. Such a simple slip, and a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Gritting his teeth, he stepped closer to the desk. “Why didn’t Johnny mention the incident when we returned?”

  Robert coughed into his hand. “Begging your pardon, sir, but he said you and Ms. Howell were all google-eyed, and his news would spoil your mood.”

  Deems mentally denied the use of the description, but damn, the woman turned him on without the slightest provocation. He almost took her in the elevator. Like a good boy, he waited until they entered the condo. After that, she was all his. News about Eric most definitely would have killed the mood, so he silently thanked Johnny for his discretion.

  “Do you want me to tell Ms. Howell?”

  He’d like to move her to his condo with its tighter security, but in doing so, she’d discover everything about him. And so what? How could he expect her to stay in New York if he wasn’t completely honest? He shook away the question. “No, don’t tell Lauren and don’t let her leave without calling Lou.” He pointed a stiffened finger at Robert. “Make sure you remind her about Lou in case I’m detained longer than I anticipate.” He headed for the door and to the waiting limo, his nerves on edge. “A change of plans, Lou. Take me to the police station.”

  Hurriedly pushing away from the fender, Lou opened the rear door. “What about your breakfast meeting?”

  He scowled. “I’ll call and offer my apologies—the usual shit. If he’s anxious to sell, he’ll meet with me at another time. Otherwise, I don’t give a damn.” Before stepping into the limo, he stopped and stared down the street. “After the police station, I want you to go to the office. On Betty’s desk are the phone numbers for the security firm handling our buildings.” Brows tight together, he looked at Lou. “I want a man guarding Lauren day and night. Visible. Sitting in the hallway. Escorting her wherever she goes. I don’t want a hair on her head hurt!” He tugged at his collar to release some heat.

  Lou cocked a brow. “What happened?”

  “I’ll explain on the way.” He dug into his wallet and extracted Detective Baylor’s card. Whipping out his phone, he called the number listed.

  “Baylor.”

  “Good. You’re in. I’m swinging by to see you.”

  “And who might you be, sir?”

  His frustration at Eric robbed his brain of logic. For some strange reason, he expected Baylor to recognize his voice. He sucked in a calming breath and released it. “Deems Lambert, Detective. I’m a friend of Lauren Howell. We spoke briefly about the Torres incident. Will you be at the station for a while? I have to talk to you.” Baylor would give good advice. I’ll need some before I beat Eric to a pulp.

  “Sure. The front desk can direct you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you in twenty.” He disconnected and handed Lou the business card. “Here’s the address.”

  Damn that Eric. Any normal man would take no for an answer and move on, but Eric’s behavior bordered on psychotic. And Jan…simple and naïve Jan, engaged to a stalker. She needed a strong dose of maturity or be stuck with this loser forever.

  In no time, Deems stood in the precinct’s downtown Manhattan lobby where a receptionist directed him to the detective bureau on the second floor. Casting his gaze across dozens of desks, he spotted Baylor with his attention intent on paperwork. His black suit jacket hung on a nearby coat rack, his white tie loosened, and black shirt unbuttoned at the collar. To see him in the same outfit as their prior meeting surprised Deems. Had he no other color clothes? Then again, Deems instantly identified him and hurried toward the detective. Clearing his throat, he extended his hand.

  With a lift to his brow, Baylor stood and took the outstretched hand. “What brings you here?” He waved Deems toward the wooden chair alongside his desk.

  No pleasantries, which was fine. A cut-to-the-chase man. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he flopped onto the wooden chair. The damn legs rocked and threatened to collapse beneath him. Grabbing hold of the desk, he expected his ass to hit the floor. When the chair held, he released the desk and explained his visit to the detective. While he had the older man’s attention, he mentioned the time span for acquiring a restraining order.

  After a heavy sigh, Baylor’s hard-lined face relaxed. “I’m homicide, Mr. Lambert. Stalkers are handled by a different team.” He leaned back in his chair and promptly created a loud screech. “Yes, I know about the delays with restraining orders, and truthfully, we can’t do much without them. If Drummer attempts any physical contact, then yes, we can arrest him on an assault charge. As a cop, I’d like to lock every stalker in a cell, but right now, the law is on their side.” He sat forward and leaned on the desk. “How about a bodyguard for Miss Howell?”

  “I’m making arrangements. Lauren will have a guard at her door as early as this afternoon.”

  Nodding, he tugged on his ear. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  Deems scanned Baylor’s cluttered desk. “I’m sorry I wasted your time, but I needed to vent.” He slapped his knees and stood. Maybe he wasn’t too late to join his client for breakfast. The man said he would eat anyway.

  Who was he kidding? How could he possibly think about business? Lauren wasn’t safe until something was done about Drummer. Even at the risk of alienating Jan forever, he would do everything in his power to stop Eric. A bribe perhaps, to entice him out of New York and away from Jan and Lauren. He had the resources. The company’s legal department, for example. With the right push, they’d obtai
n a restraining order in no time.

  Funny how I haven’t considered such an easy route. What the hell was wrong with his brain? He employed one of the best legal departments in the city, and one call to the head honcho would solve all his problems. Early Monday morning, he’d introduce Lauren to his world of finance, take her to see the company lawyers, and push the process through the courts. Enough was enough.

  Baylor slipped one of his business cards from the holder on his desk, wrote on the back, and then handed the card to Deems. “Go to the third floor and see if this detective is in. If not, call him on Monday and tell him I sent you. This way, we’ll put Drummer’s stalking on record.”

  Deems glanced at the card. “Okay, thanks.” He slipped the card into his suit jacket pocket and adjusted his tie. “Any luck with the Torres murder?”

  “You mean our backpack thief?” Again, he leaned back then ran all ten fingers through his crew cut before clamping his hands behind his head. “Only that he made a hop, skip, and jump from Columbia to the Bahamas to Florida before landing in New York. Our two-bit smuggler might have gotten in over his head.”

  Thoughts collided, none good. Deems clamped onto the back of the chair and eyed the detective. “When was he in the Bahamas?”

  Creaking forward, Baylor rummaged through the folders on his desk, selected one, and flipped through the pages. “A little less than a month ago. A pass-through. One day.”

  Deems’ jaw tightened. Was his suspicion even possible? But the facts were falling into place, and if the dates coincided… He nodded toward the folder. “What’s the date for his stopover?”

  Baylor told him and paused, his gaze sharp. “You know something?”

  “My sister and Eric Drummer were in the Bahamas on the same date. I don’t know if we’re looking at a simple happenstance, but Jan told me Eric disappeared for an entire day.” Deems groaned aloud then scrubbed both hands over his face. Dammit to hell. He mentally kicked himself for not putting two and two together sooner.