The Shelter of His Arms (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Dawn Stewardson

  The odds that the wrong person would see them, would figure out that she was staying here, had to be eight million to one. But he didn’t want to take even that slight a chance.

  “Now you’ve got me wanting to go out, too,” he said. “It’s not a good idea, though.”

  “I know. It’s just that I’ve only been out twice since I got here. Yesterday, to meet Evan Reese. Then today, to Steve’s...” She shook her head. “I still feel so badly about him, Travis.”

  He slid closer to her—prompting Snoops to leap off the couch. When her gaze met his, her eyes were as blue as the sea and glistening with tears.

  “Oh, Celeste,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

  She buried her face against his shoulder and hugged him hard. He thought she was crying but wasn’t sure. Then he felt her tears on his neck.

  “Things are going to get better,” he said into her hair. “I promise.”

  “And do you always keep your promises?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Always.”

  After a long minute of silence, she eased away far enough that she could look at him and said, “Travis, if I didn’t have you I don’t know what I’d do.”

  He smiled, aware his heartbeat was accelerating. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me, isn’t it?”

  She did her best to smile back. “It’s a very good thing,” she murmured before she leaned closer again and kissed him.

  That was all it took. He was instantly lost in her warmth, her softness, her sultry scent. Lost in his love for her.

  * * *

  TRAVIS LOCKED HIS apartment door, then led the way downstairs, ordering himself to act cool. Anything else would only make Celeste more nervous.

  When they reached the front door, he gave her a lingering kiss before opening it. Then he checked the street to be sure there was no one just standing around, keeping an eye on his place.

  There wasn’t. Of course, that didn’t mean someone wasn’t watching from one of the parked cars—using the angles to prevent being seen.

  Reminding himself the Ice Man had no way of knowing Celeste was here, he took her hand and started down the outside steps.

  Just as predicted, it was another chilly day. Even so, while he walked her to the yellow cab waiting at the curb he could feel himself sweating.

  Once she was in the back seat, he headed around to the driver’s open window and asked the undercover officer playing cabbie to take good care of her.

  “You’ve got it,” the man said.

  “See you later,” he told Celeste through the window.

  The tight smile she gave him made him wish he could have ridden along with her. But they just couldn’t risk that.

  He remained where he was until the taxi disappeared from sight, making sure that none of those parked cars pulled out and followed it. Then he strode down the block to his Mustang.

  Barely fifteen minutes later, he was walking into the restaurant directly across the street from Zia’s.

  As promised, a table had been reserved for him at the front window. It afforded a perfect view of Celeste, already there waiting.

  He ordered the lunch special, even though he knew he was too anxious to eat, and settled in to watch—trying, one more time, to convince himself that this would be a complete nonevent.

  Celeste probably wasn’t in any danger at all. Not when Wayland had most likely changed his mind about the contract. In fact, he might have already called it off.

  Well, no, that was being overly optimistic. He’d wait until he saw how things went with her. But even if they went badly, from his perspective, the Ice Man wouldn’t try to make his hit in a restaurant.

  However, just on the off chance he might, Hank had taken every possible precaution.

  The alley door was locked and a uniform was back there again. No one would be able to sneak in unnoticed.

  Also like last time, detectives were both inside Zia’s and on the street. Plus, Celeste was wearing the vest.

  He couldn’t help wishing she had on a wire, as well, but the vest would smother the sounds of any normal-level conversation. Besides, it didn’t really matter that he couldn’t listen in, because nothing was going to go wrong.

  Unless, of course, the Ice Man did make his move—and shot her in the head.

  Travis told himself that couldn’t conceivably happen. Hank’s people would be on him long before he could get off a shot.

  At least, that was how the scene was supposed to play out. If the hit man showed. Which he shouldn’t.

  “Travis?”

  He looked up to find Hank standing beside him, his expression strained.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, instantly assuming Celeste was in a lot more danger than he’d been telling himself.

  But what Hank said as he sat down was “My father’s had a heart attack and it’s touch-and-go.”

  “Oh...man...I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He knew Hank was close to his parents.

  “It was my uncle who called. My mother’s in such bad shape she can’t even talk on the phone. I’ve got to get to Chicago.”

  “As soon as you can.”

  Hank nodded. “I’m already booked. The plane leaves in two hours, so I’ve pretty well got to head for the airport right now.”

  “What about Robbie?” Taking off on short notice had to be hard when you had a child to worry about.

  “Mrs. Chevalier said they’ll be fine.”

  “Thankfully you have a great housekeeper, huh?”

  “Exactly. But, look, I’m sorry I’ve got to leave with everything the way it—”

  “Don’t even think about it. I just hope your father comes through all right. And call me after you get there, okay? Let me know how he’s doing?”

  Hank nodded again. “And I’ll phone Koscina on my way to the airport. He’s already figured out that you’re unofficially still involved with the case. So I’ll tell him that if there’s anything you need to know he should fill you in on the quiet.”

  “Thanks.”

  Koscina, the detective who’d replaced Travis as the other primary on the Parker case, was an all-right guy. So if Travis did need anything it shouldn’t be a problem.

  But he’d feel a whole lot better if Hank wasn’t going to Chicago.

  * * *

  CELESTE SPOTTED BRYCE before he saw her—walking down the street, watching for the address.

  Despite the cold, he wasn’t wearing a coat. Just a perfectly tailored three-piece suit that looked new and a silk tie that looked expensive. Dressed to kill.

  When the phrase formed in her mind, her pulse began to race and her throat felt dry.

  Even though she was almost certain he wouldn’t, personally, try to harm her, and even though Travis kept assuring her that hit men didn’t like places where there’d be witnesses...

  As Bryce breezed into the restaurant, she told herself not to let him know how frightened she felt. But she wasn’t the actress. Donna was.

  Donna, who had disappeared without a trace.

  That thought made it tough to return the warm smile Bryce gave her.

  “I’m not late, am I?” he said, glancing at his Rolex.

  “No, I was early.”

  He smiled again, and kissed her cheek. She managed not to cringe.

  “Aren’t you taking off your coat?”

  “Maybe in a bit. Right now, I’m a little chilly.”

  “Then why don’t we get another table. Away from the door.”

  “No, this one’s fine. I like sitting near the windows. Watching the world go by.”

  “Uh-huh, you always did.”

  The waiter was at their table before they could say anything more, and Bryce ordered a bottle of Orvieto without ei
ther asking if that was all right with her or looking at the wine list.

  “So,” he said as the man turned away. “This friend in Connecticut. You met her recently?”

  As in, he meant, since he didn’t know her, it must have been after they’d broken up.

  “Yes. She’s a freelance editor, too, and we worked on a series together. For Harper,” she added, thinking that detailed lies were probably more convincing.

  Bryce nodded as if he were sincerely interested in her work, although he never had been when they were together.

  The waiter arrived back with the wine and they silently sat through the uncorking-and-tasting ritual.

  Once he was gone again, Bryce held his glass up in a toast. “To us.”

  She forced her glass to her lips, but couldn’t make herself take a sip. She had an almost overwhelming urge to simply repeat what she’d told him yesterday, to say there was no us. But the plan involved getting him talking, not making him angry.

  “You said you’ve been thinking about what I suggested,” he continued.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “We had a lot of good times together, Celeste.”

  “We did,” she agreed, although “a lot” was a decided exaggeration.

  “And I’ve learned my lesson. I really have.”

  “Well, I guess that’s one of my biggest problems with your proposition,” she said slowly.

  “The way I moved out and Donna moved right in made me realize you didn’t really care that I’d left. And if you’d reached the stage of having so little feeling for me, I don’t see how—”

  “Celeste, that wasn’t it. I hadn’t stopped loving you—I just made a stupid mistake. I know that now. I realized it almost immediately. But she gave me an ultimatum. Said that either she moved in with me or we were through. And I was so upset because you were gone...

  “There’s no point in dwelling on that, though. As I said, I made a mistake—both by getting involved with Donna in the first place and by giving in to what she wanted. And I know I can’t apologize enough for being such an idiot. But she’s completely out of the picture now.”

  “You’re sure about that? She’s turned up and you’ve talked to her?”

  “Well...no, I haven’t heard from her. And I can’t say that makes me unhappy. Celeste, she’s a crazy woman. So crazy I can’t believe I didn’t realize that when I first met her.

  “But the important thing is she’s out of my life now. And I don’t want her back in it. I want you back.”

  When he covered her hand with his, she resisted the urge to pull hers away.

  “No matter what Donna might say or do in the future,” he continued, “I—”

  “Small world, isn’t it.”

  Celeste’s startled glance flashed to Evan Reese. He’d materialized beside their table and was staring at Bryce’s hand on hers.

  “You here again, me here again,” he said, his gaze shifting to her face. “Must be a function of our cosmic connection.”

  She simply removed her hand from Bryce’s and said nothing, but she knew it was far more likely a function of her having told him she came here all the time.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a couple at a nearby table looking her way—and realized they must be the detectives Hank had promised.

  All right, then. She could relax. If things got out of hand, they’d step in. But surely she could deal with Evan Reese. She’d had enough practice over the past little while.

  When she turned toward him once more, he smiled as if they were best buddies. Then he glanced curiously at Bryce and she had to introduce them.

  “I saw you yesterday,” Reese said as Bryce rose to shake hands. “After the service. You seemed to be having such an intense conversation with Celeste that I wondered who you were.”

  “I’m her husband,” Bryce told him, sitting down again.

  Reese’s expression went cold. Celeste stopped breathing. She didn’t know what he’d say next, but she was certain it wouldn’t make her happy.

  “Your husband,” he said slowly, staring at her. “I thought you were divorced.”

  “You thought wrong,” Bryce said, smiling to show he was merely clearing up the misconception—in a friendly way.

  Reese icily said, “Really,” and didn’t smile back.

  Bryce caught her gaze and silently asked her to explain what was going on.

  She only wished she knew. Reese was the proverbial loose cannon.

  “Well, you are a busy woman, aren’t you,” Reese said. “I’m starting to wonder if there’s room for me in your life. I mean, between a husband and a boyfriend...”

  She didn’t say a word when he paused, and she knew Bryce wasn’t about to, either. As curious as he had to be, he was too smart to let Reese manipulate him into any sort of scene.

  Finally, Reese turned to him and said, “You do know about the boyfriend, don’t you? The police detective?”

  “Of course,” he said smoothly. “Detective Ballantyne. You probably saw me talking to him after the service, too.”

  “Detective Ballantyne?” Reese’s voice jumped an octave on Hank’s name.

  “You’re even busier than I thought,” he told Celeste.

  Then he looked at Bryce again. “No, I meant Detective Travis Quinn. He’s the one she’s practically living with. Or maybe I should leave out the practically.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sunday, October 10, 1:41 p.m.

  CELESTE STOPPED BREATHING once more. How did Reese know she was staying with Travis? Should she ask him or not? And if he knew, who else did?

  Both he and Bryce were staring at her now, and she simply couldn’t decide what to do.

  “You’re wondering how I found out what you and Quinn are up to, aren’t you,” Reese said at last.

  She gave him the most casual shrug she could manage.

  “Well, I wanted to talk to you Friday night. I felt uncomfortable about the way we’d left things between us. We were here for lunch,” he explained to Bryce. “And we had a bit of a...disagreement.

  “At any rate,” he said, turning back to Celeste, “I figured if I phoned I’d only get your machine, so I decided to pay you a visit. And when you weren’t home, I waited. Only, you never showed.”

  “Are you saying you waited all night?” Bryce asked.

  “My car has a good heater. It was comfortable enough. But the whole time,” he continued to Celeste, “I was wondering where you could be. Then yesterday, at the service, I realized where.

  “Quinn was there, pretending he wasn’t paying the slightest attention to you but actually keeping an eye on you the whole time.

  “I found that pretty strange, until I figured out that the two of you just didn’t want people to realize you were...close. Then it struck me that maybe you’d gotten really close.

  “So this morning, when you weren’t home again, I went down to West Twenty-eighth—his address is in the book. And after I sat watching from my car for a while, what do you think I saw? You and him coming out of his place, acting all lovey-dovey before you got into that cab.”

  Reese had clearly finished his explanation, but Celeste just didn’t know what she should say.

  There was a long moment of silence, then Bryce said, “Well, it sounds as if you should be a detective yourself, Mr. Reese. And it was nice meeting you. But before you arrived, Celeste and I were in the middle of discussing something important, so...”

  “So you’d like me to leave.”

  When neither she nor Bryce corrected his conclusion, Reese said, “Well. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Without even looking at her again, he turned away.

  As he walked out of the restaurant, she murmured, “Thank you,” to Bryce.

 
“You handled that really well,” she added—thinking that right this instant she was feeling far more kindly toward him than she had in a long time.

  Then she remembered the contract and went cold inside.

  “Who is he?” Bryce said, his voice quiet, but his tone telling her he was angry.

  “He was a patient of Steve’s. And for some reason he’s convinced that we should be friends.”

  “I see. And what about this Detective Travis Quinn?”

  She tried merely shrugging, although she knew it would only buy her a few seconds.

  “Are you living with him?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got all afternoon.”

  He waited, glaring at her, while she racked her brain for something to say.

  She didn’t intend to tell him she was staying with Travis because of the contract on her. Not after Hank had said that knowing about it when the Ice Man wasn’t aware they knew was a big advantage.

  Finally, Bryce drained his wineglass, then said, “Well, I hope you enjoyed your revenge—even if it did get cut short.”

  “My revenge?”

  “How long were you going to keep it up? Pretending you were actually considering a reconciliation with me, when you’re living with some cop?”

  She nervously licked her lips, thinking that keeping quiet had to be her best move.

  “You know, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got a serious problem when it comes to women,” he muttered. “I totally misread Donna. And I lived with you for three years without realizing you’d ever do anything as calculatedly cruel as this. So, as I said, I hope you enjoyed it.”

  With that, Bryce rose, tossed a couple of twenties onto the table, then strode out to the street.

  * * *

  TRAVIS WAS STILL SITTING in the restaurant across from Zia’s, his breathing pretty well back to normal.

  His body had gone onto red alert when Evan Reese had shown up. And it had stayed that way while he’d watched the pantomime that ensued between Celeste, Reese and Wayland.

  The entire time, he’d been wishing he could hear as well as see. But at least he knew that nothing awful had happened. And he’d managed to more or less relax once Reese left.