“Too bad.” He reached for his cell phone.
Allie glared at the tree. This was turning into a confrontational Christmas, but she couldn’t blame Daniel for picking a fight. He was only trying to help. Still, she hated for him to burden her sister. He would probably make it sound worse than it was.
Not that it wasn’t bad…
Not that she wasn’t afraid…
She grabbed the phone away from him and dialed the number. “I’ll tell her myself.”
The line rang and rang and Allie almost hung up.
Until Olivia answered. “Hello?”
“Oh, hi, it’s me. We just had dinner, and…” She hedged for a moment, hoping her sister would pick up on the troubled vibe.
She did, but who wouldn’t? It didn’t take an empath to read between the lines. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“I’m being stalked, threatened, and Daniel thought—”
Olivia’s voice jumped. “That I could help? How long has this been going on?”
“A few weeks. We’re certain it’s a woman. First she trashed my room, then she put ghoulish comics of me on Daniel’s door and on his truck.” Allie glanced at her lover. He was watching her. “We have a list of suspects, but there’s one who’s—”
“Mentally ill?” her sister asked quickly.
Allie’s pulse jiggered. “Yes.”
“Does she have a split personality?”
“She’s schizophrenic, but that’s not the same as having a dissociative identity disorder.” Allie knew because of the research Daniel had done.
“Then my thoughts must be jumbled because that’s the feeling I’m getting. But I’ve been wrong before.”
Olivia paused, and Allie pictured her, sitting in a London hotel, with her curious husband by her side. Surely West was locked into the conversation.
“We can come home early,” Olivia said. “We can get this figured out together.”
“Absolutely not. Daniel and I can handle it on our own. He promised to protect me.”
“And you trust him?”
“Yes, of course.”
“With your heart?” came the psychic reply. Or maybe it wasn’t so psychic. Olivia already knew that Allie was in love with Daniel.
“With my life,” Allie said, countering her sister’s question. Because trusting Daniel with her heart would hurt far too much.
Chapter 13
Two days later on a dreary Monday morning, Daniel and Allie got ready for work. He’d been dreading this moment, and now it was here.
She glanced out the bedroom window. “They say it’s going to rain.”
He put on his scrubs, wondering how he was going to concentrate on his job. He’d been keeping in touch with the Kangees, and Ann hadn’t returned home, not even for Christmas. “Promise that you’ll be careful.”
“A little rain never hurt anyone. Besides, it’s supposed to clear up by noon.”
“You know I wasn’t talking about the weather.”
“Stop worrying, okay? I’ll be fine.” She flashed a brave-hearted smile. “My students wouldn’t let anything happen to their favorite teacher.”
“Your students are a bunch of elders. What can they do? Fight your stalker off with their canes?”
She swatted his arm. “Very funny.”
“I’m serious, Allie. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“The senior center is downtown, with plenty of pedestrians and lots of traffic. I’ll be safe there.”
“Your loft is downtown, too, and that didn’t stop the stalker from trashing it.” He stood back and watched her put the finishing touches on her outfit. As always, she wore a gypsy ensemble with Native jewelry. Her hair was long and straight and as dark as a raven’s wing.
A raven’s wing…
Shaking away the comparison, he moved forward, getting protectively close to her. If he could lock her up in a tower, he would. Like a mythical princess, he thought. Like one of her paintings.
How many times had he imagined her as a character in a fairy tale? Too many, he decided.
Pulling himself back to reality, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what Olivia said about Ann having a split personality.”
“Sometimes my sister’s readings aren’t accurate.”
“I know. But I’ve been trying to figure it out, to make sense of it, just in case.” Olivia was a gifted empath, and he didn’t think it was wise to dismiss her input. “Maybe Olivia got that feeling because Ann impersonated you on the day she vandalized your loft. That might make Ann seem like she has dual identities, especially in a psychic’s mind.”
Allie belted the sash around her waist. “Are you convinced that Ann is the stalker?”
“I’m not convinced of anything.” Except that they were being tricked somehow, and that troubled him most of all.
Allie sighed. “Whoever she is, she’s dragging it out.”
He frowned. “Three threats within two weeks are more than enough.”
“I know, but it seems as if we spend most of our time waiting for her to strike again.”
We do, he thought, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned in to kiss her. She tasted like the lemon-flavored toothpaste she used.
Cool and sexy.
He captured her tongue, and they rubbed against each other. Suddenly he couldn’t think beyond his rising erection.
Hungry for more, he backed her against the nightstand until she was seated on the edge of it with her legs open and her skirt hiked up.
“Daniel?”
“We’ll make it quick.” He removed her panties. “I just need to be inside you.”
Allie seemed to need it, too. While he fumbled for a condom, she renewed their lust-driven kiss.
Together, they pulled the front of his scrubs down and the very instant he was sheathed, he plunged into her.
The nightstand rattled, banging against the wall, but the roughness excited both of them. Allie was biting at his lips as they kissed.
Was this what should have happened in the past? Hot sex between friends? Damn, but it felt good.
Still, it was confusing, too.
When the lip-biting ended, he looked into Allie’s eyes and thought he saw a secret, something she was keeping to herself.
“Tell me,” he said.
“Tell you what?” She slid her hands under his shirt and clawed his back.
“About your secret.”
“I don’t…”
She clawed him deeper, and he let it go. This was all that should matter. Hot bodies. Feverish sex. Catlike marks on his skin.
He thrust into her again. “You’re making me crazy.”
She sucked in her breath and wrapped her booted legs around him, pulling him closer, pulling him tighter. Apparently he was making her crazy, too.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a hollow sound, then realized the predicted rain had begun to fall.
Big, noisy drops slashed against the window panes, fogging the glass and creating a winter ambience.
He caught Allie’s gaze again, and they stared at each other. He was close, so damn close to climaxing.
So was she. He could feel the erotic tremble.
When she gasped and shuddered, he let himself fall into the same carnal abyss. Only now the rain seemed to be inside him.
Pounding wildly against his heart.
On her way to work, Allie reflected on every heated touch, every fast-paced thrust, every spoken word.
Did Daniel suspect that she loved him? Was that what he was asking her to tell him? The secret he wanted her to reveal?
At the time, he’d caught her off guard, and she hadn’t understood. But now that she had time to analyze it…
Allie gazed out the windshield. Rain fell in a steady rhythm, and the wipers swished in time to the music on the radio. The oldies station was playing It Never Rains in Southern California.
Of course the lyrics weren’t meant t
o be taken literally, and Allie saw them for what they were: an emotional tale, one man’s hard-luck journey.
In some ways, the song reminded her of her dad. He’d been a Hollywood actor who’d never really made it.
“I wish you were here, Dad.” Then she could confide in him. She could ask for advice, and they could discuss her options.
Should she tell Daniel that she loved him? Should she expose her heart?
Allie arrived at the senior center, her thoughts scattered. But at least she got there in time. Her furniture-rattling romp with Daniel hadn’t made her late for work.
She walked from the parking lot to the building, an umbrella overhead. Naturally, she closed it before she went inside.
Allie knew all sorts of superstitions about umbrellas. Never open one indoors. Never give one as a gift. Never place one on your table or bed. Never pick up an umbrella you dropped. Instead, ask someone to do it for you. And finally, if a single woman dropped an umbrella, she would never get married.
The last superstition gave her pause. Allie wanted to get married. She’d always believed in love, in happily ever after, in the white-picket-fence ideal.
She hadn’t been tainted, even with a suicide-stricken father and a serial killer mother. Somehow, she’d come out of it with her dreams intact.
Or maybe she was idyllic because of it. Maybe that was the reason she painted fairy tales.
Still gripping her umbrella, she unlocked the art room door and prepared for her students.
As they began to arrive and welcome her back to the classroom, she slipped into her teacher role, grateful for her job.
She taught a variety of classes throughout the day, including drawing, painting, ceramics and pottery.
By lunchtime the rain stopped, and Allie ate in the break room with one of the music teachers.
Later in the day, she analyzed the students in her final and most advanced class. Some were fussy old souls, and others were bright and happy and bursting with life.
Her most recent enrollee, a widow named Louise Archer, had joined the class a little over a month ago. Louise was one of the most talented artists in the bunch. But she was shy and insecure, too. She rarely met your gaze and ducked her head when you praised her work.
Still, she seemed genuinely nice. She wore thick glasses and thrift store-type clothes. This afternoon, her salt-and-pepper hair was stringy from the rain. Obviously she’d been out in the weather earlier.
Mostly, Louise enjoyed working from live models. But that wasn’t today’s agenda. Today, they were learning to use color to express mood and emotion. Allie called the lesson, “Painting with Attitude.”
Louise appeared to be struggling. Expressing attitude wasn’t her thing. But Allie was trying to bring her around, to boost her confidence. She did her best to bond with all of her students.
At the end of the day, Allie was exhausted, but still glad that she’d returned to work.
Later, on her way to the car, she glanced up at the sky. The dark clouds had cleared and there was no need for an umbrella. But Allie held hers tightly, rather than risk dropping it.
Foolish superstitions, she thought. But she couldn’t seem to help it.
She approached her vehicle, and her pulse pounded at her throat. A piece of paper fluttered from beneath the windshield wipers.
Another ghoulish drawing? A threatening note? Had the stalker been here while Allie was in class?
As she got closer, her palms began to sweat.
Then someone called her name.
She spun around and almost dropped her umbrella. Louise was walking toward her. The older woman seemed to come out of nowhere.
Allie just stared at her. A moment later, she caught sight of other cars in the parking lot and realized they had papers beneath their wipers, too. Handbills, she thought. Advertisements. She’d panicked for nothing.
“I have something for you,” Louise said.
Allie blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”
“A belated Christmas gift. I didn’t want to give it to you in class. Not in front of everyone else.” Louise removed a decorative tin from a canvas satchel. “Fruitcake.”
Allie smiled. She hated fruitcake, but it was a sweet, old lady thing for Louise to do, so she thanked her kindly. “Did you make it?”
“Yes, I did.” Louise spoke softly. “It’s a traditional recipe with candied cherries.”
Allie accepted the tin. “If you’re as good a cook as you are an artist, I’m sure this will be wonderful.”
Louise squinted through her glasses. Even now, she wasn’t making direct eye contact. She also had a powdery complexion and wore a bit too much rouge. The old-fashioned fruitcake fit her grandma style.
Not that Allie was an authority on grandmas. Her maternal grandmother had been spawned by a long line of witches.
“The class was worried about you while you were gone,” Louise said suddenly. “I hope everything is all right.”
Allie glanced at the handbills fluttering in the wind. “Everything is fine. I just needed some time off.”
“Well, okay, then. I better get going.”
“Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
Louise walked in the direction of the bus stop, and Allie approached her car and removed the paper from the windshield. Sure enough, it was an advertisement.
The stalker hadn’t been there.
“Fruitcake,” Daniel said when Allie showed him the gift she’d received.
She nodded, trying to appear more relaxed than she felt. She was still debating whether she should tell Daniel that she loved him. But for now, they were sitting on the small patio in his backyard, having a casual conversation.
“Louise seems like a sweet lady,” she said. “But I hate fruitcake.”
“Really? I like it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He opened the tin, unwrapped the plastic and broke off a piece.
She watched him pop the icky stuff into his mouth.
“It’s good.” He took another helping. “Way better than the packaged stuff.”
“At least I don’t have to lie to Louise now. I can say that my boyfriend enjoyed it.”
“Boyfriend?”
Was he amused by the high schoolish tag? She couldn’t quite tell. He was eyeing her in a way that seemed to require an explanation.
She said, “I don’t think Louise would understand if I called you my friend with benefits. And calling you my lover sounds too sexy to say to one of my students.”
“I suppose it does.” He closed the fruitcake tin. “I’m so glad your day went well. I was nervous about it.”
She decided not to mention the handbills. She didn’t want to admit that she’d panicked. Daniel was worried enough. “I like being back at the job.”
“I don’t. I went stir-crazy today, thinking about you while I was at work.”
She wondered if this would be a good time to bring up her secret. If he already suspected that she loved him, then he wouldn’t be shocked. He would be ready to discuss it.
Before she could steer the conversation in that direction, he said, “I called Rex earlier and asked him to stop by the senior center tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“To talk to the administration and show them a picture of Ann.”
Allie scooted forward in her chair. “I don’t want my students to know that I’m being stalked. They’ll worry.” She considered what Louise had told her. “They were already worried about me. They hadn’t expected me to take a hasty vacation.”
“No one is going to tell them. But I think it’s important for the administration to be aware of what’s going on.”
He was right. How were they going to find Ann if they didn’t continue the investigation? She was still the most likely suspect. They hadn’t forgotten about Glynis or Susan’s sister, but nothing had been pulling them in that direction. Glynis was busy with her chic L.A. life, and Linda was busy with her kids. Lord onl
y knew what Ann was doing.
In the silence, a light breeze blew, stirring leaves on a nearby tree. Daniel used to have a tire swing in the front yard, but he’d taken it down after he’d been released from the hospital, saying it was stupid. Allie used to think it was goofy, too, but now she missed it. Because it was part of the old Daniel, the man with whom she’d first fallen in love.
“Want to go out and get some dinner?” he asked.
“Sure.” She drew a quick, shaky breath. “But there’s something I think we should discuss.”
“Over dinner?”
“No. Now.” If she waited, she feared she would lose her nerve. “It’s about my secret.”
He snared her gaze. “So you do have one?”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
The intensity in his eyes gave her a quick shiver. Was this a mistake? Had she spoken too soon? “I assumed you suspected what it was.”
He shook his head. “I don’t. I just saw something, felt something when we were together this morning, and—” He stalled, and the tension increased. “What is it? What’s going on?”
She wanted to say, “Nothing. Never mind,” but it was too late for that. Bracing him, she said, “I haven’t been totally honest with you.”
He frowned, but he didn’t respond, making her more nervous.
Finally, she revealed her secret, as steadily as she could. “You’re more than a friend to me, Daniel. I’m in love with you, and I have been since you were shot.”
He flinched as if he’d just gotten shot all over again. Only this time it was Allie who’d fired the near-fatal bullet.
Chapter 14
Daniel didn’t know what to do, what to say. He panicked, all the way to his bones.
But why? What was wrong with being loved by Allie?
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She looked into his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you said you’ve loved me since I’d gotten shot. Maybe it’s sympathy or guilt or something.”
“I know the difference, Daniel. When I was with Raven, I started thinking about you, the way he’d been thinking about his dead wife. We were both confused about our feelings. And then, when you got shot, when you were lying on the museum floor with your shirt stained in blood, I knew that I loved you.” She continued to look right at him. “I was so afraid you were going to die.”
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