by Mary Birk
The Landing, popular with tourists and residents alike, had been here ever since she could remember, but the familiarity of the rustic building did nothing to calm her nerves. Mounted lamps shone cones of light sporadically along the weathered wooden pier that connected to the restaurant. In the restless dark water below, the reflected light shimmered and shuddered. Like the water, her stomach just wouldn’t settle down.
Finally, she got out of the car, smoothed her dress and went inside. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim light, then scanned the dining room. She saw with a mixture of relief and disappointment that Terrence hadn’t arrived yet. She checked her watch. A few minutes early. She hung up her coat in the unattended coat room and decided to have the hostess seat her at a table so she could wait for him there. Less awkward. Standing in the entryway of the restaurant and waiting for him would make her look like a nervous school girl. She was determined not to look nervous, and certainly not to look like a school girl.
Following the young woman who led her to the table across the scuffed plank flooring, Anne tried to project the illusion of serenity, assumed her elegantly poised persona, the one that seemed to fool most people. Breathe in, breathe out, she told herself.
The hostess seated her at a table by the window with a view to the water below the wharf. A little shaded electric brass lamp cast a soft light over the table surface, the low light romantic ambiance inside contrasting with the bleak view outside.
Anne ordered a glass of white wine and looked out the window. Her heartbeat felt too rapid and again she tried to calm down with slow breathing. Odd to get so anxious about seeing someone she knew so well, but then, since the honeymoon, few of their meetings had gone well.
Anne picked up the cold glass of wine the waitress had brought while she was absorbed in her thoughts, and put it to her lips. She wanted to gulp it down, but she’d already had one glass at home, so she knew she’d better go slowly.
Then she saw him.
Her heart pounded rapidly and a flush burned her face and chest. She automatically lowered the glass back to the table. He was dressed in brown pants and a dark brown cashmere sweater. His hair was a little untidy from the wind, but he looked good. Not just good, he looked perfect. Damn.
She watched, her mouth sandpaper-dry, as he searched the room. His eyes found her, locked on her, and he crossed the room quickly, never dropping his gaze. She felt the incredible physical desire she’d had for this man since the first time she saw him. It was as though there was no one else in the room but him, no one else in the world but him, no one else for her but him. Double damn.
He leaned down, put his hand on her arm and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek that sent an electric current coursing through every part of her body. He still did it for her.
“Hi.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as breathless to him as it did to her.
“How are you, Anne?” His eyes bore into her, and she knew with a sinking feeling that she was not over this man. Not even close. He released her arm and sat down across from her.
She just looked at him, not trusting herself to speak, tried to project serene.
The heat from his eyes pierced her and he pressed for a response. “Anne, are you all right?”
Recovering herself, she tried for a smile. “I’ve been better. I’m glad you’re here.”
“That’s guid to hear.” That damned accent. She loved his accent.
She tried to keep her breathing normal, but her body wanted to leap across the table to him, and her hands wanted to touch him so badly. Down, hands. Down. “I’m sorry I missed you this morning. I waited, but you must have been tired.”
“You could have woken me up. I wouldn’t have minded.”
She felt an overwhelming shyness and looked down at her wine glass, running her finger along the rim. She tried to make her voice friendly but not personal. “I hope you don’t mind going out. I thought it would be easier for us to actually be able to talk here. You know, alone.”
“No problem. I remember this place. It’s nice.” His eyes looked her over, slowly and deliberately. “You look nice. Very nice.” He smiled, and his smile was deadly and definitely personal. “Beautiful, in fact.”
“You, too.” Her throat closed up. Had she really said that? He dumped you, Anne. Have some pride.
He chuckled. “Not many people would call me beautiful, my love.”
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She took a sip of her wine, stalling while she got her mask back in place. “I wanted to thank you again for staying. This has been so awful, and it feels like the police and FBI don’t have a handle on anything.”
“I don’t think they’d agree about that.”
They stopped talking when the waitress approached and took Terrence’s drink order, leaving a fragrant basket of warm sourdough bread.
When the waitress left, Anne resumed, proud of herself for the impersonal tone she heard in her voice. Good girl, she thought. You can do this. “You mean they think it’s Andrew.”
“With the molestation evidence, I’d say it’s a safe bet that he’s the focus right now.”
She tore off a piece of bread and chewed slowly, then took a drink of wine. She shook her head when he offered her the butter. He didn’t seem to remember she liked her bread plain. “They think it’s strange that I found her body when I did. Where I did. I almost wish I hadn’t taken the dogs there—that I hadn’t found her.”
The waitress brought Terrence his drink, and again they were quiet until she left.
“But if you hadn’t been there, Anne, her body may not have been found for a long time, if ever. It could have been washed back out to sea.” He drank his whiskey slowly and looked at her steadily. She felt herself melting under that look. Estranged husband, Anne. Estranged.
“I know. That’s a dreadful thought.”
“It’s better she was found. Better for her family than not to know what happened to her.”
She nodded and her eyes started to fill with tears. Not again. She couldn’t cry again. He reached into his pocket and handed her a pristine linen handkerchief. She took it and wiped under her eyes, trying to protect her mascara from making her look like a punk rocker. “I keep doing that. I still can’t believe Lenore’s dead.”
“We can leave if this is too hard.” In a gesture almost imperceptible, his hand lifted toward hers, as if he was going to hold it, but then he stopped. Had she imagined it?
“No, just talk about something else for a minute until I get control of myself. I know we need to talk about it. I just don’t want to cry again.”
Terrence picked up the menu. “How about if we order some food and talk later?” He got the waitress’s attention. They ordered the steamed clams to start and then Dungeness crab for their dinner. He told the waitress not to hurry bringing out the entrees so that they could take their time and talk over drinks and appetizers. He always told waitresses that. He didn’t like to be rushed.
“So tell me, Anne, you’re a bright lass. What do you think is going on here?”
She twisted her wine glass around by the stem, but kept her face on him. “I don’t know. There was a lot of publicity over the sale of the paintings.”
“Yes, I know.” He looked down at his drink, avoiding her eyes. “I saw a magazine article about the auction—including a photo of you and Grainger.”
“You did?” Her face got hot. Damn. Andrew loved that photo, but she’d been afraid someone would see it and recognize her. And someone had. The very someone she hadn’t wanted to see it.
“Yes, I did.” His voice was neutral, but his jaw tightened.
“I wish you hadn’t.” Anne felt a hard lump in her throat.
“You and me both, girl.” A hint of hurt ghosted through his voice.
“I’m sorry. About that, and about this press coverage. I don’t know how they got your name. Jeanne said it’s all over the news.” She made a face. “BBC, too. I’m so sorry.” His family would see it
. She wondered what he’d told them about their marriage.
“Makes a guid story I guess. We’re probably lucky they don’t know we’re here tonight.” He patted her hand and then raised it to his mouth to kiss her wedding ring. The touch of his lips sent a shiver up her arm. She checked his hand and saw that he, too, was wearing his wedding ring. Had he been wearing it before? She had been too distracted to notice.
“Go ahead. Tell me the rest of it, lass, about the night she disappeared.”
She loved it when he called her lass. With his Scottish accent, it sounded like a caress. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. She plunged in, knowing he would already know much of it. She told him briefly about the Valentine’s night events, about the gala at the Colony and about the kidnapping. She felt a little embarrassed talking about being with Andrew—at the party and afterwards—but she didn’t see any way to avoid it.
Terrence took a drink of his whiskey. “You can see why Shelton thinks this isn’t adding up as a kidnapping. No attempt to collect the ransom. The evidence of a history of molestation.” He looked at me with a hard glance. “And the girlfriend just happening to find the child’s body.”
Anne looked away, avoided his gaze. She wanted to say she wasn’t the girlfriend, but she was. She wondered if Terrence had a girlfriend. “They can’t seriously think I had anything to do with it.”
“Of course you didn’t. But it does look suspicious.” He took her left hand in his, fingering her ring, and she felt a jolt deep in her abdomen.
She took a sip of wine, trying to ignore the ache of longing brought on by his touch. “Believe it or not, it never occurred to me that I would be a suspect.”
“They probably can’t cross anyone off yet. They want you to take a polygraph test.” He arched his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
“Do you think I should?”
He nodded. “Yes. You should.”
So he didn’t think she had anything to hide. She relaxed a little. “I just hope they’re accurate.”
“A lot depends on the examiner giving the test. But I talked with Shelton about it and the examiner they’re planning to use is good.”
“Okay. If you say so, I’ll take the test.”
“Good. Just call in the morning and let them know when you’ll be there.” He suddenly became more serious. “Also, Anne, you need to be careful. I’m not saying I think Grainger did this—I don’t know. However, if he did do it and if he thinks you know something, or he loses control for some other reason, there’s a possibility you could be in danger.”
She could tell he was being careful with his words so as not to offend her, but she pulled her hand away. “He didn’t have anything to do with it. I know it wasn’t him. It was someone else.”
“If you know of any reason why Andrew might have wanted to get Lenore out of the way, you need to tell Shelton or Chief McLendon. You can’t keep it to yourself.”
His eyes bore into her, but she resisted the urge to look away.
“He didn’t have anything to do with it, Terrence. I know him.”
“You didn’t answer me. Did he have a reason?”
They stopped talking when the waitress arrived with steaming platters of food. When they were alone again, Terrence took her hand back. She knew Andrew would be hurt if he saw, but he wasn’t there and she couldn’t bring herself to pull it away.
“Anne, tell me. Had you told him you weren’t ready to be a mother?”
She closed her eyes, didn’t answer.
“You did, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“Did you tell him I was coming after we spoke Saturday night?”
She nodded again.
“Was he upset about it?” Reid held his breath while he waited for her to respond.
She didn’t answer.
Reid exhaled. “How badly does he want you to marry him?”
Anne caught her breath, shook her head. “He wouldn’t have hurt Lenore. Never in a million years.”
Chapter 46
REID AND ANNE LEFT the warmth of the restaurant for the brisk cold of the parking lot. Her coat fell open and his eyes were drawn to the soft cleavage that he had been trying to avoid looking at all night. With some women, he might think it had been done on purpose to tantalize him. But Anne wasn’t like that. She wore her incredible beauty artlessly, casually, like something that had just happened to land on her.
He loved her in this dress. He supposed Grainger did, too. He tried to push that thought out of his mind. Tonight she’d worn it for him. And his ring. Although he’d tried at first to keep his face from registering that he noticed it, he’d found himself drawn to it and the fact of it all night. It had not been on her finger earlier, but she’d worn it tonight.
They talked more easily now, and much of the awkwardness with which they had begun the night was gone, although his suspicions about Grainger lay between them like an invisible barrier. Reid walked Anne over to her car and stayed with her while she unlocked it. He opened the door but she made no move to get inside.
“Thank you so much for staying to help.” She reached up and put her arms around him.
“How could I not?” He brushed his hand against her face. Her skin was soft and warm. She leaned closer.
He felt himself become aroused and knew that she had to be able to tell. Instead of pulling back, she pressed herself against him more tightly. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to put his hands all over her body. He should be able to touch her. She was still his wife, wasn’t she? But he knew he could not let himself forget that just a couple of nights ago she was sharing another man’s bed.
Anne had the generally lovely characteristic of being easily aroused and willingly seduced. Soft and sensual. Nice in a lover but, he thought grimly, maybe not so good in a wife. Being separated hadn’t stopped them from returning to their roles as lovers before. Where did this come from, this strong visceral reaction to one particular woman? This woman. But he wanted more than sex with her. He wanted her back as his wife. And he didn’t want to be sharing her with Andrew Grainger, or for that matter, with any other man.
Anne, apparently oblivious to his thoughts, reached up and took his bottom lip in her mouth, bit it softly, then releasing it, gathered his mouth into a full kiss, tumbling him into a wonderful agony of longing. He let himself kiss her back, hungry for her, not wanting to stop. He moved back from her slightly to see her face. Her eyes had that sleepy, almost hypnotized look she got when she wanted him, and he could tell it wouldn’t take any effort at all on his part to get her into bed. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from her.
She looked at him, puzzled. “Terrence?”
He shook his head. “No, Anne.”
She moved away, hurt darkening her eyes.
“Come here, lass.” He put his arms out and she let him gather her back in. “As much as it’s killing me, I can’t be with you that way until and unless you can tell me it’s over between you and Grainger. And not just tell me, tell him.” Holding her face against him, he was determined not to let her see his face. He did not want her to see what it was costing him to push her away when the only place he wanted to be was deep inside her body.
From what Shelton had reported of her telephone call with Grainger, and how she had just kissed him, he thought he still had a chance with her. Grainger had by no means closed the deal. There was still hope that she was holding out from accepting the man’s proposal because of him.
“How can I?” Her lip quivered.
“My love, I’m not saying it will be easy. But you have to make a choice—be with Grainger or be my wife. You can’t have it both ways.”
She looked up at him, her face stricken. “How can I be so cruel? He needs me so much right now.”
Reid hated to ask the next question, but he had to know. “Do you love him?”
She was quiet, and the silence was torture to him.
“Anne?”
Finally she spoke and he coul
d tell she was choosing her words carefully. “He’s a good man and he’s just lost his daughter in a horrible way. He loves me and I care about him a great deal.”
His heart lurched at her words and he closed his eyes. “What about me?”
She moved away, out of his arms, and wrapped her coat tightly around herself, tying the belt. “He loves me, Terrence, but even more, he actually likes me—something you never did.”
Reid’s jaw dropped open, at a loss for words. “I like you, Anne. I love you. Christ, I adore you.”
“Couldn’t prove it by me.” Tears filled her eyes. “Terrence, you left me. I wrote you and called you, I begged you to talk to me, to come back. And you just ignored me. How do I know you won’t do the same thing again? That you don’t want me now just because you know someone else wants me?”
He took his thumbs and wiped the tears from underneath her eyes, giving her a resigned smile. “Someone else will always want you, my love. That’s never going to change. That isn’t why I’m saying this. I know I said some stupid things to you. Believe me, I kick myself every day for my part in causing this. But as bad a husband as I’ve been, I still love you. And I definitely like you.” He pulled her back to him and held her so close that he could feel her heart beating.
She was quiet and he looked down at where her face was hidden inside his jacket. “Anne? Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was muffled against him. “Did this just come to you?”
“Of course not.” He tried to soften the impatience he heard in his voice. “I’ve been thinking about us all the time, every day.”
“Then where have you been?”
“I don’t know. Trying to figure out a way back to where we were.” He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “When I saw you in that magazine photo with Grainger, I was afraid to call. Afraid what you’d say. Terrified that you’d tell me you wanted your freedom. So I just came.”