by Julie Miller
She took another leisurely sip, purposely letting the moisture from the glass drip onto the front of her dad’s old button-down shirt and trickle beneath the placket to her hot skin. The soft, worn cotton was stained with all the colors of her remodel, including a splash of dark blue from the shutters she’d been painting for the living and dining room areas this evening.
Once, she’d dreamed of restoring a home like this with her former boss, Quinn Gallagher, and raising a family together in the big house and spacious backyard. But Quinn, a widower who’d needed his trusted assistant to fill in as babysitter, comforter and sounding board, had fallen in love with someone else. And the need that Elise had hoped would blossom into something more had vanished in the span of a few hectic, dangerous days, leaving her reeling and alone. Easy pickings for Quinn’s business associate, Nikolai Titov, who had said all the right things and made her feel wanted...and then used information she’d inadvertently shared to not only ratchet up his plot to destroy Quinn’s security empire, but to murder Quinn and his daughter. Fortunately, Quinn’s new wife, a rifle-toting member of KCPD’s premier SWAT team, had been there to save them both.
A familiar knot of guilt and regret twisted in Elise’s stomach. While she couldn’t fault Quinn and his daughter for claiming happiness and moving on with their lives, there’d been no one but her parents to help her pick up the pieces of her broken dreams two years ago. And she’d been too humiliated to share everything with them. She hadn’t even shared all the details with the counselor who’d evaluated her before qualifying for the job at police department headquarters. How foolish or desperate did a woman have to be to have an affair with a man, and not know until he sent her flowers from the airport as he was leaving the country that he didn’t feel anything for her at all—that he’d only been using her?
Eric and Susan Brown had known something had changed in their daughter after that. They’d helped her make the down payment on this run-down Victorian with good bones in a quiet neighborhood south of downtown K.C. They’d encouraged her to dip into her savings for new appliances and updated wiring. They’d set her up on a couple of dates and said they understood when Elise bowed out of seeing those perfectly nice men a second or third time.
It was just her and Spike and a lot of hard work now. Hardly her dream life. Quinn and his wife were raising a family, all right, but Elise wasn’t any part of it. After Quinn and Nikolai, she didn’t want a man in her life. It hurt too much to love the wrong person, to believe in something that wasn’t really hers. She couldn’t trust a strong shoulder to lean on, even if it did smell of crisp cotton and musky man.
An image of George Madigan’s stern countenance drifted into her thoughts. Turning to him for grounding comfort had been so tempting this afternoon. A full-fledged smile from the man would probably awaken the hormones she kept in careful stasis inside her. And she could guess that a man in the prime of his life like George would definitely know how to use that firm, masculine mouth to kiss a woman.
“Really?” Alarmed by the sudden drift of her thoughts, Elise put the glass to her own lips, mentally warning herself to chill. She knew the hazards of a workplace romance better than anyone.
She shouldn’t wish that she had more hugs and laughter and love in her life. She had her job at KCPD and her own place that was gradually transforming into a thing of beauty. George needed her to keep his life and office running efficiently, not speculate about kissing him. After a hundred years of use and neglect, this house needed her to care for it. Her days were full. Both jobs were as rewarding as they were exhausting. She’d adopted a wonderful dog from a shelter to keep her company. She didn’t have to depend on anyone. She didn’t need anything more.
She shouldn’t want...more.
A drop of ice-cold water fell from the glass and splashed her thigh near the fraying hem of her denim shorts, startling her from the depressing quagmire of her thoughts. “Oh. Wow.”
She hadn’t gone to that dark place for a while, and hated that she’d allowed the loneliness to creep into her head the moment she’d stopped for a break. Must be the flowers she’d received at work and deposited at St. Luke’s Medical Center afterward for distribution to needy patients. The gift reminded her of that horrible time, that was all. It didn’t mean she still had to wallow in the past.
Dismissing any remnants of longing or dissatisfaction, Elise wiped away the rivulet of water on her skin and swallowed the last of her tea. Swinging her feet down to the deck, she sat up on the edge of the chaise lounge and peered over the railing to find the dog before heading inside. “Spike?”
Just as she put her lips together to whistle, he let out a high-pitched bark and charged through the yard, heedless of the spinning water that dampened his hair as he ran past. He was sounding the toodle alarm, barking at something or someone at the side of the house.
Elise set down her glass and stood. “Spike! Shush!” With the last fingers of daylight leaving the high, cloudless sky a muted shade of gray, she could guess it was around nine o’clock. Some of her older neighbors were probably trying to settle in for the night. “You’ll wake someone.” She clapped her hands to divert his attention. “Spike!”
But fifteen pounds of ferocious guard dog wouldn’t be silenced.
Elise hurried down the steps and followed him to the chain-link fence to see what had alarmed him. But when she saw the tall blond man walking up the sidewalk to her backyard gate, she slowed her steps. Her guest might look handsome enough in his pressed jeans and polo shirt, but he wasn’t necessarily welcome. “James.”
“Is it safe?” James Westbrook tucked the skinny sack he carried beneath one arm and knelt down to hold his hand flat against the fence to let Spike sniff and lick his palm. “Hey, big guy. Remember me?” Spike’s barking quieted with the recognition of a familiar scent. But his long tail curled between his legs and he darted behind Elise when James reached over the top of the gate to pet him. “I guess not.”
As he pulled back to his side of the gate, Elise brushed her hair off her forehead, although that was probably the least messy thing about her ratty painting attire. She noted with annoyance that James’s well-gelled hair was barely moving in the bursts of wind swirling dust and dirt through the air. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”
“I rang the doorbell, but no one answered.”
Elise glanced up at the steady hum of her bedroom air conditioner, sticking out from the window above the back door. She hadn’t heard anything. Of course, the sprinkler made a little bit of noise. And she’d been neck deep in self-pity for the past few minutes, too.
But wouldn’t Spike have heard the doorbell? Or the slam of a car door? Maybe that’s what had alerted him in the first place. If so, James had decided pretty quickly to come to the backyard rather than wait on the porch for her to answer.
Despite the ninety-degree heat that lingered, Elise shivered with an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. Since the debacle of Nikolai, she never had liked surprises. And now she’d had two in the same day? She tipped her chin up to assess James’s unexpected arrival. “What are you doing here?” she repeated. “You got my message, didn’t you?”
“That you were working late?” He adjusted the slim glasses he wore and smiled. “I thought you meant at the office. If I’d known you were painting tonight, I’d have gotten some takeout and come over to help.” He glanced down at the gate between them, then pulled off the sack to reveal the bottle of wine he’d brought. “May I come in? It’s a cabernet sauvignon, like we drank back at Mizzou.”
Another gift.
Perhaps not as significant as twenty-three roses, but unsettling, all the same.
“James,” she began. Elise inhaled a deep breath, clearing the Go away from the tip of her tongue and summoning a polite explanation. Not that she really owed him one. But bitchiness just wasn’t in her nature. “I did work until about six. T
hen I had errands to run. By the time I got home, it was too late to meet you anywhere. So I changed into these old clothes, zapped some leftovers in the microwave and went to work on the shutters.”
“What do you do for fun, Lise?”
Trying not to bristle at the pet name he’d given her when they’d been dating, Elise gestured toward the pale gray siding and white trim. “Reclaiming this house is fun for me.”
“No. That’s rewarding,” he corrected with a teasing smile. “Sounds like you’re avoiding me.” He raised the wine bottle again. “Could be why I felt like I needed to bring a peace offering.”
Guilty feelings surfaced, then eased out on a breathy sigh. “It’s not you, James,” she assured him. “It’s me.” And a screwed-up love life, a little lack of confidence and nary a spark of the attraction a younger, more innocent Elise had once felt for him. “I’m flattered by your attention, but I’m just not interested in a relationship right now.”
“I get that.” He dropped his hand to the gate, but she still made no move to open it. “You and I broke up a long time ago when we graduated from college and I took that job in Korea. But we’re still friends, right? We share history. I’ve been back in the States for a couple of months now, but Kansas City doesn’t feel like home yet. I find I’m still thinking in a foreign language. I make wrong turns in the neighborhood where I grew up. Landmarks have changed or aren’t even there anymore.” He slid his hand over to rest on hers. “Can you blame me for seeking out a familiar face?”
Elise pulled away from the warmth of his fingers and bent down to pick up the dog. It was an obvious wall of defense she was putting up, but Spike didn’t seem to mind. The dog licked her jaw a couple of times before settling into her arms and Elise smiled, even as James’s faded. “What about your father?” she asked. “Isn’t he retired now? Won’t he spend time with you? There’s a Royals game on TV tonight.”
“To be honest, I was hoping for some younger, prettier company than Dad. You and I could watch the game.” He slipped the wine bottle back into the sack and held it out to her. “I promise to keep the evening perfectly platonic.”
The streetlamp in front of her house flickered on and grew bright. Even if she trusted James’s promise, the hour was late. She had to be at work early in the morning. “To be honest, I was getting ready to clean up and go to bed.”
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses before he sighed and shook his head. “Once upon a time you and I talked about getting married, Lise.”
The regret in his tone cooled the air around them. She’d admit that there were some good memories between them. But that was all they were—memories. There was not one pang of hope or regret when she looked at James now. “We were practically kids then. You wanted to see the world, and I’d snagged that internship at Gallagher Security Systems. We just weren’t meant to be.”
“You turned that internship at GSS into a career, didn’t you. I bet you were making good money there.” He folded his arms over his chest, eyeing her like the businessman he was. “Why’d you leave that kind of success and take a job with the city?”
Her smile faded. She rubbed her fingers along the soft warmth of Spike’s flank, buying time to compose herself before deciding on the appropriate answer. She wound up using the same vague truth she’d given in her interview with George Madigan. “Money isn’t everything. There was nothing more for me at GSS. I wanted new surroundings. I needed a new challenge.”
“Turning this into a showplace isn’t challenging enough?” He pointed to the painter’s tape lining the glass inside the dining room windows. “Are you sure I can’t help you do something here?”
Elise looked at his hands, which were pale and pristine compared to the stained fingers with which she was petting the dog. He wasn’t really into home repair work, was he? “I’ve made enough of a mess for one night. I’m really tired.”
“Maybe another time?” He put up his hands in placating surrender before she could answer. “Strictly as friends. I don’t know why you’re so gun-shy about rekindling things, but I won’t put any pressure on you. Like I said, I’m just looking for someone my age to hang out with until I get my feet under me again.”
“How about I invite you over the next time I have a big piece of furniture to move.”
He laughed, and the awkwardness between them eased a little bit. “Deal.” He thrust the wine over the top of the gate. “Here. You’d better take this.”
Elise backed away a step. “I couldn’t.”
“Of course, you can. It’s a gift.”
If he was hoping she’d invite him in to share a glass, then he’d be in for a long wait. Still, she sensed he wasn’t going to move until she accepted the so-called peace offering. At least she knew who was giving her this gift. She wrapped her hand around the neck of the bottle.
“Thank you.” Ask him. Why not? Clearing up the mystery would go a long way toward improving her chances of getting a good night’s sleep. “Did you send me flowers at work today? There wasn’t a card attached, and the officer at the front desk said he didn’t find one, either. I haven’t had a chance to check with the florist yet. It’s a bit of a mystery.”
“You used to like it when I sent you flowers.” He grinned. “Remember? A daisy or a rose? To commemorate any little event—acing an exam, the start of spring break...” He grasped the rail at the top of the gate and leaned in. “Thanking you for a special night?”
Yes. Those had been sweet and romantic and fitting for the young couple they’d once been. Not the point. “The flowers I got today weren’t cheap.”
He snorted. “That cabernet wasn’t cheap.”
“James, did you—?”
“I can see I’m not getting anywhere with you tonight.” He shook his head, then adjusted his glasses, glancing skyward before zeroing his gaze in on hers. “Keep an eye on the weather. We’re under a tornado watch until midnight. I wouldn’t want you or the pooch there to get hurt. Good night.”
And then he was striding away.
Her mouth opened to call after him to clarify his response to her question, but Elise wisely snapped it shut. Better to just let him leave. “Good night,” she muttered.
Were straight answers really so much to ask for? Elise plopped Spike down on his feet in the grass as James walked to the curb where he’d parked. A black-and-white police car cruised past on its regular rounds for the night, giving her ex the impetus to climb behind the wheel and start the engine when he hesitated at the open door, no doubt readying another argument as to why she should rethink sending him away.
Elise waited for James to pull into the driveway behind her car and back out in the opposite direction to leave the neighborhood, and then she turned off the water and picked up her glass. “Come on, boy. Here, Spike.”
The dog bounded up onto the deck and followed her into the house. He danced around her feet while she locked the back door and headed into the kitchen. She hit the light switch with her elbow, flooding the room with light before setting the wine on the granite counter and rinsing out her glass. She turned on the radio to get an update on the possibility of dangerous weather, got Spike a treat from the jar next to the sink and set about her nightly check of the doors and windows on the first floor.
She secured locks and pulled window shades and makeshift curtains, listening to the jingle of Spike’s tags as he lapped up a drink of water in the kitchen. She stopped for several seconds in front of the living room air conditioner, unhooking the top couple of buttons on her paint shirt and cooling the perspiration on her skin before turning it down for the night. Moving into the foyer, the growing noise from the wind cruising through the leafy trees outside and knocking twigs and other debris against the house fully registered. Elise paused with her fingers on the front door’s dead bolt.
She could hear the dog in the kitchen at the back of the hous
e.
Her breath hitched in her chest at the disquieting thought that crossed her mind. Praying that she’d be proved wrong, Elise quickly returned to the living room and turned the AC unit back on high. The light in the foyer flickered at the sudden drain on the neighborhood’s overtaxed power grid as the machine roared to life and the cold air blasted her again.
Noisy enough. She couldn’t hear Spike anymore.
Then she opened the red front door and reached outside to press the doorbell.
The instant the bell chimed, Spike barked and came running from the kitchen. He barked again, eager to greet or warn off their visitor.
“Shush. It’s okay, sweetie. It’s just Mommy testing a theory.”
But the yapping and squealing continued until she picked him up and pushed open the storm door to show him no one was there. Greeted by a wall of summer heat and uncomfortable suspicion, Elise crossed the porch, mentally timing how long it took her to reach the railing at the edge of the house.
Elise hugged the dog against her shoulder, patting his back as if burping a baby. “He lied to us, Spike.”
Such a small slip of the tongue. Maybe nothing more sinister than a clichéd response.
I rang the doorbell.
No way had James stood on her front porch, announcing his arrival. He would have needed to sprint down the steps and around the side of the house to the back gate to reach her before Spike heard the bell and sounded his alarm. But James had strolled up the walk. His breathing had been perfectly normal, without a drop of sweat visible anywhere.
Glancing up and down the street, Elise peered into shadows beyond the streetlights but saw nothing out of sorts. The only thing that wasn’t right was the portentous wind that made her clothes instantly stick to her skin again, and the nagging suspicion about a man who claimed to be her friend.
Why would James lie? What was the point of sneaking around her house? And when she’d asked him about the flowers, he’d never actually confirmed sending them. Or denied it.