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A very worried Charlie was waiting for them at Seattle-Tacoma Airport. Logan was standing a little bit behind, talking on his phone. The moment he saw them, though, he finished his call and welcomed them with open arms. His mother and sister both rushed into his embrace.
Charlie held out her arms, and with a soft cry, Lindsay walked into her sister’s hug.
“Blake has just spoken to Logan,” Charlie said, rubbing her back. “I can’t believe what that damn Mark has tried to do! You okay?”
Sniffling, Lindsay nodded, and lifted her head to greet Logan. “I feel absolutely terrible for putting your mom and sister in danger. I just didn’t think he—”
“Let’s not think about all the what-ifs,” Logan said. “You’re here and you’re all safe. Let’s get you home.”
Lindsay ended up in the back of Logan’s car between Brooke, Connor, and Charlie.
“How are you feeling?” she asked Charlie.
Grinning, Charlie patted her still-flat tummy. “I’m twenty weeks and happy to say I’m not nauseous any longer and have my appetite back. At the moment, Baby is about the size of an apple and...” Her smile widened. “I’ve felt some wiggling and movement.”
Lindsay smiled. “Really?”
“And we’ll be able to find out the gender by next week—I can’t wait to know.”
“It’s a little girl with her mama’s blue eyes.” Logan grinned.
“Or a little boy with his daddy’s blue eyes,” Charlie teased, and touched her husband’s back from behind.
Eleanor had more questions about the pregnancy and an excited Charlie was happy to comply. Leaning back against the car seat, Lindsay touched her mouth. She couldn’t be happier for Charlie but somewhere deep inside her a sadness had settled.
Babies. She’d thought she’d come to grips with the idea of not ever getting married and having them, but ever since she’d met Blake, she kept thinking about happy-ever-after and making babies.
Her lips were still tingling from Blake’s kiss. Wow. Two kisses within the span of about an hour. Well, she had wondered what it would be like to kiss Blake. Now she knew—it wasn’t like any other kiss she’d had before.
Swallowing a groan, she closed her eyes. Within seconds, her thoughts had jumped from having babies to Blake kissing her.
“Lindsay,” Connor’s voice penetrated her thoughts, “you look sad.”
She opened her eyes and touched the little boy’s nose. “I’m fine.”
He stared at her with big eyes. “Didn’t Blake kiss it better?”
“What?” Charlie leaned forward. “What did Blake kiss better?” she asked Connor.
Connor pointed. “Lindsay.”
Charlie looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Really?”
Connor nodded solemnly and held up two fingers. “Two times.”
“He was just worried,” Lindsay said quickly. “We were all a bit rattled.”
“I didn’t get a kiss,” Eleanor said.
“Neither did I,” nodded Brooke. “And I was the one driving.”
“Lindsay?” Charlie asked. “So why is Blake kissing you?”
“It was... We both had a fright; it’s really no big deal,” Lindsay said and crossed her arms.
Logan chuckled. “Don’t tell me we’re having another wedding before Christmas?”
“Of course not!” Lindsay called out, upset. “For some or other reason, he feels he needs to protect me.”
“Wonder why?” Charlie teased.
“Something to do with his previous job, whatever that was,” Lindsay mumbled.
“I think Logan knows what he used to do for a living...” Charlie said.
“...But I’m not talking.” Logan shrugged. “He’ll tell you in his own time. Okay, gals, where shall we go for lunch. Mom?”
Lindsay stared straight ahead and the voices around her faded. What kind of job had Blake done? Whatever it had been, he seemed to be able to find out things about other people and contact police at any given time and in any town or city.
And he’d kissed her. Oh, my goodness, she was thinking of the kiss again. Aargh!
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For the rest of the day, Blake kept busy. When he’d left Bozeman that morning, he’d organized the local mechanic to tow Brooke’s car to his workshop. Hopefully, her car would be ready by the time the women returned for the weekend.
He spent the rest of the day at the dojo so that Jason could have some free time. He’d thrown himself into the classes to try and keep himself from worrying about Lindsay. The Livingston police had phoned earlier. They’d been on the lookout for Taylor’s car, but hadn’t seen the one similar to the one Blake had described.
By eight o’clock in the evening, he parked next to Lindsay’s house. He wanted to pick up his stuff and make sure the house was properly locked before he went back to his own place.
Once inside, he checked all the windows and doors and headed up the stairs to get his bag and leave, but somehow, he ended up in Lindsay’s room. Her scent still lingered in the room, instantly heating his blood.
The space was decorated in soft pink-and-grey colors, clean lines, no frills except for the lace pillows on the bed, and lace curtains in front of the windows. Feminine, alluring, beautiful—like Lindsay.
Taking out his phone, he sat down on her bed. For long minutes he stared at the small screen. He shouldn’t have kissed her that morning, but he’d been out of his mind with worry. To see her getting out of the car, seemingly unscathed, had simply wiped his usual logical mind to the side, and he’d finally given in to the urge to touch her.
It hadn’t been a conscious decision; it had just happened. And since then, he couldn’t think of anything else.
Cussing, he began typing a message. He wanted to make sure she was okay after the morning’s ordeal; that was the only reason he was texting her now.
With his phone in his hand, he lay back on the bed. Mmm, nice mattress.
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By half past nine in the evening, Lindsay closed the bedroom door behind her. Logan had taken them to lunch earlier and they’d just had a light supper. Logan, his mother, and sister were still chatting, but when Charlie had excused herself, Lindsay had also jumped up.
Since the morning, she hadn’t had a minute alone and she needed to think. She walked to the big windows overlooking the city. Damn Mark Taylor! All through the day, she’d found herself glancing over her shoulder. She hated having to live like this.
And she still felt terrible about scaring Eleanor and Brooke. Fortunately, Connor had been asleep and had no recollection of the incident.
So where was Mark at this very moment? Had he gone back to Alisson? Or had he somehow discovered they were in Seattle and followed her here? Rubbing her temple, she sat down on the bed and took out her phone. Maybe Blake would know.
Before she even opened her phone, she saw his message, sent at around eight. Quickly, she opened it.
Are you okay?
Her heart sighed and she typed a reply.
I’m fine. Have you heard anything from the police?
For minutes she sat staring at the phone before she jumped up. Blake was probably out, or busy.
She unpacked but took her phone with into the bathroom. She was going to take a long, hot bath. Hopefully, it would help her to relax.
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Disoriented, Blake woke up. He was still in Lindsay’s room—on Lindsay’s bed. Grabbing his phone, he sat up. She’d sent a message, wanted to know what the police said.
And then, he simply had to hear her voice. He phoned. She picked up after one ring.
“Blake?”
Water? Was that what he heard. So it meant she... He inhaled sharply. “Are you in the bath?”
“Uhm...yes.”
Shaking his head, he swore softly. “Do you have any idea what the image of you in a bath does to me?”
“Blake...” Her soft voice in his ear sent his blood boiling. She inhaled shakily. “Where are you?”
“On your bed.”
“My bed?”
“Yeah. Your bed. I came to get my bag but then I walked into your room, sat down on your bed and...I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“It’s a nice bed.”
“It’s a very nice bed.”
For a few moments it was silent. But he could hear her moving in the bath. Damn.
“Jim phoned,” he said, to distract himself from the noises of her splashing.
“Jim?”
“Policeman from this morning?”
“Oh, yes. Anything?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know where Mark is?”
“No.”
Again, it was quiet for a few minutes.
“You kissed me,” she said.
“I did.”
“Twice.”
“Indeed.”
“Why?”
“I...I was worried about you.”
“Do you kiss everyone you’re worried about?”
Thinking of the many weird characters he’d worried about at some time or another over the span of his life, he had to grin. “No.”
“That’s not an answer!” she called out.
“That’s my answer.” He waited a beat. “For now.”
He rubbed his face. What the hell was he doing? Flirting with Lindsay? He knew better than most that in these kind of tense situations, feelings were seldom real.
Whatever this was, it was temporary. And even if it was something deeper, he could never again allow anyone to depend on him. There were two dead bodies in his past that served to prove his point.
“I have to go,” he said, and before she could say anything else, he ended the call.
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Charlie was waiting in the room when Lindsay entered from the bathroom.
Charlie patted on the mattress. “Come and talk to me. I’m so happy you’re here. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”
Lindsay climbed into bed. “I’ve spoken to Blake...”
Charlie’s eyes widened and she interrupted her. “You’ve spoken to Blake? I thought you didn’t like him and now it’s Blake this and Blake that. He’s moved in with you and he’s kissed you—whatever is going on?”
“There is nothing going on. It’s a weird situation. He was worried. I should’ve told him I was coming here...
“Mmmm.” Charlie grinned. “All very interesting observations, but none which explain Blake kissing you, however.”
Lindsay shrugged. She had no idea how to answer Charlie—best to steer the subject in another direction. “He’s spoken to the policeman from Livingston who arrived on the scene after Mark rammed into us this morning.”
“And?”
“And nothing. Mark seems to be able to disappear every time.”
“But that’s ridiculous. First, he sent someone to do his dirty work for him, and when that didn’t work, he came himself. And nobody can catch him?”
“That seems to be the case.”
“Well, while you’re here, you don’t have to worry,” Charlie said. “We’re not leaving you alone for a minute. And as I’ve told you before, I’ve been waiting for Mark-bloody-Taylor for two years.”
But Lindsay didn’t want to talk about Mark. She had another question. “Do you know what Blake used to do?”
Charlie shook her head. “Logan isn’t talking. He says if Blake wants us to know, he’ll tell us. So, you and Blake...?”
“There is no Blake and me, I promise you.”
“And the kiss?” Charlie asked again.
Lindsay opened her mouth and closed it again. This was her sister. “He says he’s worried about me.”
“And? You like kissing Blake?”
Grinning, Lindsay sighed. “I do. But...”
Charlie leaned forward and patted her arm. “There doesn’t always have to be a ‘but.’”
Lindsay threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know if I can trust my own feelings after Mark and Blake... Well, one minute he kisses me, flirts with me, and then he just clams up.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Flirts with you? This is the first time I’ve heard about flirting. Come on, I need details.”
“He phoned just now. And we were flirting—I guess you could call it that—until he said he had to go and then he put the phone down.”
Smiling, Charlie got up and gave her a hug. “It sounds to me he’s running scared, something men tend to do before they realize they don’t want to go anywhere. Logan may be right, after all.”
“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked Charlie as her sister walked towards the door.
“We may just have another wedding before Christmas.” Charlie laughed over her shoulder before she left the room.
Lindsay’s phone bleeped. Another message from Blake.
Hope you can sleep tonight.
Worry, or something else? She stared at the message for a long time before she started typing.
Are you still on my bed?
She immediately wanted to delete the message, but the two blue marks indicated he’d already read it. She waited. Her phone bleeped.
No.
The man was driving her insane.
So where are you? Back at your place?
She waited and waited. And just before she put her phone down, it lit up again. Another message from Blake.
In your bed.
Her breath left her body in one swoosh. Oh, my. How was she supposed to sleep, knowing he was in her bed? Her message had only one word.
Why?
Minutes later, there was another message.
What do you put in the perfume you wear?
What kind of a question was that?
Lavender and ylang-ylang.
She waited. Why would he want to know that? In the next heartbeat, she had her answer.
Your pillow has the same smell
She stared at the words for a long time before she sent her message.
Miss you too
The minute she’d sent it, she wished she hadn’t. But the two blue marks appeared—he’d seen her words. No taking back what she’d said.
Three dots appeared, disappeared again. She waited. Finally.
I prefer the French version. Goodnight.
French version? Of what? What a weird message. And the “goodnight” obviously meant he was done sending messages.
She put her phone down, switched off the light, and pulled the blanket over her. Everyone else in the apartment was probably already in bed. The only sound was the throb of city life far away.
Nights in Alisson were quiet. She’d had to get used to that after she and Charlie had moved there from the bustling city of Johannesburg in South Africa.
Turning on her side, she closed her eyes. French version. French version of what? He’d sent her a message about her scent; she’d decided it meant he missed her. That was why she’d sent her message, but obviously he’d meant something different or... Thoughts collided and her heart did a double flip.
Quickly, she switched on the light and picked up her phone. Surely Google would know how to translate “I miss you” to French.
Minutes later she stared at the small screen. Tu me manques. She wouldn’t know how to pronounce the French words, but the direct translation made her heart sigh: You are missing from me.
Long after she’d switched off the light again, she found herself still smiling.