by Misha Crews
Good morning, Blake Sera. What are you going to do with today?
What she really wanted to do was spend time with Caleb, but given the circumstances she wasn't sure if that was a good idea. Besides, after their unusual day together yesterday, there was a distinct possibility that he wouldn't want to see her. The thought made her heart hurt.
As if on cue, her cell phone jangled on the nightstand. She reached out a lazy hand and picked it up, smiling when she heard Caleb's voice rumbling on the other end. His tone was full of adorable masculine uncertainty, as if he weren't sure he should have called.
"No, I'm not doing anything," she assured him. "I've been disgustingly lazy today, actually. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. Maybe, Blake thought wickedly, the idea of her lying in bed gave him pause. Then he cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you have any suggestions for what an out-of-towner might do to keep himself busy here in LA."
Blake pushed herself into a sitting position. She'd wanted normality, and here it was. "Well, are we talking legal activity, or illegal?"
Now she heard a smile in his voice. He knew she was teasing him. "Legal, please."
She sighed. "How boring. Well, there's all the usual touristy things – the Tar Pits, the Observatory, etc."
"Boring touristy things sound perfect for me," he told her.
"Me too, actually. I've had so much excitement lately it's likely to kill me." Ooh. That was a bad choice of words, given her conversation with Greg last night. Blake winced. Caleb probably thought she was nuts.
"Well then," he said, "would you like to come sightseeing with me? Sounds like boredom could save your life." If he did doubt her mental stability, his voice gave no sign of it.
The invitation spread warmth through her body. "I'd love to, but…." She trailed off. Hadn't she just been thinking that it might be a good thing not to see him again? Although "good" in this case was a relative term. No, it would be better to turn him down. Better for him, and maybe even better for her. She opened her mouth, fully prepared to say the right thing.
"Yes," she said impulsively. "Yes, of course I want to come along."
This time, Caleb let Blake drive. Her mechanic had apparently dropped her car off early in the morning, and she was insistent on being the one behind the wheel.
"I give terrible directions," she'd told him firmly. "If you want to get where you're going, I have to drive."
Caleb didn't bother pointing out that they'd made it to the party last night just fine, with her shouting directions into his ear while he drove the bike. He would have preferred to drive today because he could've used the rearview mirror to see if anyone was following them. But he didn't think it would be wise to press the point. He didn't want Blake to get suspicious.
So he buckled himself into the passenger seat of her red BMW convertible, surreptitiously adjusting the mirror on his side of the car so that he could keep an eye on the traffic behind them. In the guise of an awe-struck sightseer, Caleb would occasionally torque himself around, trying to catch a glimpse of any suspicious cars in their area. No one appeared to be following Blake, but if someone were doing a professional tail on her, it would be difficult to spot.
They cruised smoothly down Sunset Boulevard, crossed Crescent Drive and North Beverly, and turned right into the driveway of the Beverly Hills Hotel.
Caleb looked uneasily at the towers of the pink palace. Once again he found himself concerned that maybe he was under-dressed for the occasion. His own discomfort both amused and irritated him. He hadn't worried so much about his clothes since his first week of boot camp, where the smallest smudge on his boot would likely have netted him a hundred pushups in the blazing sun. What's the worst that could happen to him here? They'd ask him to put on a jacket? Come on, he told himself, cowboy up.
He shouldn't have worried. The Polo Lounge maitre-d' greeted them pleasantly, remembered Blake's name and showed them to a shady table on the brick-covered patio. No one gave his clothes a second look.
After lunch they went to the La Brea Tar Pits, which turned out to be just down the street. For some reason, he'd had the idea that it would just a big puddle of tar with some cheesy models of woolly mammoths propped up around it. But it was bigger than he'd expected, with a full museum and even a laboratory where visitors could watch through large windows as fossils were cleaned and repaired.
Blake took his hand as they walked through the museum exhibits, gazing at the fossils – stone thumbprints of plants and animals long gone from the earth. Caleb kept his eyes on the people around them, taking advantage of the glass in front of the displays to see if he could catch the reflection of someone paying too much attention to Blake.
Of course, she got attention wherever she went. She looked lovely as ever, wearing a gauzy brown top with an Indian print dancing across it. She was also wearing unfussy jeans and flip-flops, although that kind of casual was likely to be pretty expensive. He'd spent enough time with his sister and nieces to know that much.
When they'd had their fill of earth, they turned their attention to the sky. Caleb had seen the Griffith Observatory many times – every time he'd watched Rebel Without a Cause, in fact. And he couldn't walk out the front door of his motel without seeing the dome of it hovering against the mountains in the distance. On some days it looked so close that it seemed he could reach out and touch it, caress its shining white dome from the street.
But that was just an optical illusion, of course. And as they pulled into the parking lot, ready to see the real thing, he felt himself twitching with excitement.
Blake grinned at him as they climbed out of the car. "You're just like a kid at Christmas, aren't you?"
"Well yeah," he said. "I've always been fascinated by space." He looked at her. "Don't you know that every little boy wants to be an astronaut?"
"And I guess you think that all little girls want is to live in the Barbie Dreamhouse," she teased.
"If I had any idea what little girls wanted, I'd probably be married by now." He'd meant that as a joke, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth they sounded like a heavy bit of self-revelation.
As if to punctuate the statement, three little girls with blond pigtails bobbing dashed past them, giggling. A woman in a blue sweater vest followed, panting slightly. She glanced at Caleb and Blake apologetically as she passed.
Her husband brought up the rear, his pace brisk. He was wearing a pink polo shirt and sandals of the kind favored by tourists in cities around the world. Caleb flashed him a knowing grin – that's a lot of women to handle, my friend! – but the man ignored them, keeping his eyes on the ground.
"Interesting family," he murmured to Blake. "That's the first man I've seen today who hasn't ogled you with both eyes."
"He probably got his fill from the rear view," she responded blithely. "Or maybe he's fed up with females. With three daughters and a wife, it wouldn't surprise me. Women can be pretty exasperating at times, even I'll admit that…not to mention incomprehensible."
Caleb knew that comment was directed at him, as an attempt to get him to expand on his "if I knew what little girls wanted" statement. He appreciated her interest, but ignored it. He wasn't ready to have that conversation with her. Instead he took her hand as they walked up the lawn in front of the north door.
The view was unlike anything Caleb had seen before, with Hollywood in one direction, and the Pacific Ocean in another.
"Whew," Blake breathed. "On a clear day, you really can see forever."
Caleb wasn't sure how long Blake had intended for this visit to take, but the hours slipped by quickly. They saw the slideshow, the meteorite exhibits and the Foucault pendulum, which was designed to demonstrate the rotation of the Earth. Caleb stocked up on souvenirs for his nieces and nephews, and when they went outside, the sun was already dipping over the horizon.
Tourists were clustered at the far end of the lawn, watching the sun begin to set over the ocean.
They found a place by the railing, and Blake settled comfortably against Caleb's side, sliding an arm around his waist. The sun had lit the sky on fire, throwing tongues of red and gold flame across the purpling clouds.
"Isn't this amazing?" she breathed, leaning closer to him.
He looked down at the top of her head. "If I didn't know better, I'd think this was the first sunset you'd ever watched."
She looked up at him, her eyes soft, almost shy. "It's the first one I've ever seen with you," she said quietly. "I guess that makes it special."
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to bend his neck, incline his head forward ever so slightly until his mouth rested against hers. The air between them grew thick with longing, and he wondered that she, who had been so brazen the night before, would suddenly be so shy. It wasn't coquetry or manipulation – he had seen enough of both to know. In spite of the way that sexuality seemed to hang around her like a mist, there was an innocence about her which prevented her from renewing last night's embrace. Probably the same innocence which had prevented her from inviting him in last night, although he knew it had been on both their minds. He wanted to make a move, but he didn't dare let things go any farther between them than they already had.
She gave him a gentle smile, full of sweet longing, and rested her head on his shoulder, allowing her eyes to drift back to the horizon.
And that was when he saw him. The man in the pink shirt, standing maybe ten yards away, with his flock of women surrounding him. The girls were cooing sweetly at the sunset, but the man's gaze was fixed firmly on Blake. The look in his eyes sent a chill down Caleb's spine.
This was not the look of a man admiring a beautiful woman. It was the look of a hunter, sighting its prey.
This man was dangerous.
Caleb's eyes flicked over the man's wife and daughters. The girls huddled around his legs like waves breaking against rock. His wife leaned companionably against his arm. Caleb knew in an instant that they had no clue what was going on. The wife had no idea who her husband was, the girls had no idea who their father was. By Caleb's grim assessment, he man in the pink shirt was a killer.
It takes one to know one.
Cut and run, his gut urged him fiercely. He wanted to throw Blake over his shoulder and run for the car. Get her out of here, get her somewhere safe. Hide her.
But that was ridiculous. The last thing he needed to do right now was call attention to the two of them. And for reasons he wasn't fully willing to define, he didn't want to expose himself to Blake. At least, not yet.
No, what he would do is get her away from those menacing eyes, make sure she was safely ensconced in the Entwistle Ridge house, and then use Steve's full resources to find out who this pink-shirted jerk was. Subtlety was the name of this game.
One thing was certain, the guy wasn't going to try anything violent here. Not with all these witnesses. No, this was just a little reconnaissance mission, a chance to sight his target while at the same time treat the wife and kiddies to a nice day out. What a dedicated family man.
The sun dropped below the horizon, eliciting murmurs of appreciation from the crowd around them. Caleb took the opportunity to slip an arm around Blake's shoulder and steer her to the exit. She didn't object.
Maybe she thought it was an amorous gesture. Caleb wished to hell that that's all it was.
Despite his worry, he felt elation creeping around the corners of his mind. Whoever was trying to hurt Blake had exposed themselves. It wasn't much, but he didn't need much. He would get them.
Walking down the path to the car, he wrapped his arms around her protectively. Nothing was going to hurt this woman. Not while he was around.
Chapter Nine
"So then, what, he dropped you off and he just left you there?" Mira's elegant fingers grazed the shelf in front of her, absently trailing past rows of downy teddy bears and plush purple elephants. "Dropped you on your pretty little behind and then rode off into the sunset?"
"Pretty much." Blake bit her lip as she tried to explain the unexplainable. "I mean, no, actually – first he went through the whole house and checked all the windows. Then he walked around with a flashlight looking in the bushes. I guess it was a little weird, when you get right down to it."
"A little." Mira gave Blake a concerned look. "And you haven't seen him since?"
"No. He's called, though, every day – sometimes twice a day."
"Well, I guess that's something, at least."
"I guess." Blake, feeling her friend's worry, gave her a wan smile. Mira, who was still glowing from her spur-of-the-moment trip to Rome, may have been one of the most beautiful people that Blake had ever met, inside as well as out. Almost six feet tall, with smooth, dark caramel-colored Cuban skin and wide green eyes, set off by luxurious black hair that corkscrewed into wild, sexy ringlets around her head. She was an unshakeable optimist and had a generous heart. At just barely twenty-one, Mira's modeling career was still on the rise, and she usually split her time between LA and Paris. She was the closest thing that Blake had to a best friend.
As if to prove the fact, Mira grabbed a teddy bear off the shelf and shook it in Blake's face, trying to elicit a laugh. It worked. Blake laughed and pushed the bear away, then rolled her eyes and told Mira to cut it out.
"What?" Mira asked. "Don't you think this would be good for Ernie?"
"Don't be ridiculous. He's eight, not three. He needs big-boy stuff." Blake didn't really feel like discussing her weird love life – or the lack thereof – not even with Mira. She hooked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and gestured with her chin. "Come on, let's check over there." She started toward the sports section.
They were browsing through Woodland Toybox, an upscale establishment that had just recently opened in Beverly Hills. It was a small, coy shop that catered to the tykes of the rich and famous. Blake spotted a recent Oscar-winner and her husband checking out a display of antique rocking-horses. A sales-serf lurked in a nearby corner, waiting to dance attendance on the first customer who produced a Platinum card.
"I can't wait until this kid turns thirteen – the golden age of the gift certificate. Buy him a gift card and let him pick out his own damn toys," Mira grumbled good-naturedly.
Blake looked back over her shoulder. "Personally, I'm surprised Penny didn't register for gifts," Blake said. "She's so organized – I can't believe that she's actually leaving it up to her guests to pick presents for her son!"
"I think her organizational skills are being tested, what with the twins on the way."
"I'm sure that's true." Blake stopped in front of a boxed set of baseball equipment. "Now here's something that just might work."
Mira steered the conversation back to the true subject of her interest. "So this guy Caleb, what's his deal? You think he got freaked out, thinking about Rube and all?"
But Blake shook her head. "He doesn't seem like the type for that. But it was definitely strange that he took off that way, especially after we'd had such a great day together. At least, I thought it was great."
"Honey, any day with you is a great day."
"You see why I love you?" Blake batted her eyes dewily.
"Look, you seem to think he's a good guy, and if he is, then he has his reasons, right?"
"Oh, I'm sure he does, although I'm not at all sure that I'll ever find out what they are. Every time I suggest we get together, he says he's busy. I don't know. Maybe 'busy' is Iowa-speak for 'married.'"
"Or 'gay,'" Mira put in.
Blake smiled painfully. "He's not gay, that's one thing I'm sure of. Maybe it means 'I'm already schtupping someone else, since you didn't put out right away.'"
Mira studied her friend closely. "It's like that, huh?"
"No," Blake said slowly. "I don't really think it is. But like I said, i
t doesn't look like I'll ever have a chance to find out now."
Mira brightened as the gong of reality struck. "You're in love with this guy."
Blake's face went blank, and then she burst out laughing. "You are such a hopeless romantic!" she said. "Every time I turn around you're accusing someone of being in love."
"It's not an accusation!" Mira protested. "It's a statement of fact. Besides, love makes the world go 'round, don't you know that?"
Blake felt her laughter fade away, her good mood evaporating like vapor, leaving a dull ache in its place. "I'm not in love, and I'm not going to fall in love. With the situation I'm in, love is one thing I can't afford." She looked back at the toys on the shelf. "But not the only thing, apparently. How can they charge this much?"
"Don't you dare try to change the subject! Something's going on here and you need to tell me about it."
"Okay, fine." Blake picked up a softball and rolled it between her hands. "Maybe I am a little hung up on this guy."
"No kidding."
"But I know it's never going to work, so I'm just torturing myself by thinking about him! Anyway, it's probably for the best if we don't see each other again."
Mira touched her lightly on the arm. "Why don't you just call him and tell him the truth?"
"What truth?"
"You know – about you. And Rube."
Again Blake shook her head. "Can't do it. Won't do it. Rube needs to be able to trust me."
"Rube needs to come home and explain himself to you, is what he needs to do!" Mira's voice rose, and Blake shushed her. Mira continued in an angry whisper. "I'm sorry, but for him to disappear like that? Again? It's not right. He's just asking for you to leave him."
"Well, he can ask," Blake said stubbornly, "but I won't do it."
Aware that there was a lot more Mira wanted to say about the subject, Blake turned and went back to the first set of sports equipment that she'd been eyeing. It had everything – baseball bats, balls, gloves, bases, everything a boy needed on his eighth birthday. She tapped the box. "This is it. Ernie will love it."