Читать книгу Easy Loving - Sheryl Lynn - Страница 10

Easy smiled at the elderly woman who answered the door of the small brick bungalow in Arvada. This quiet neighborhood in a suburb of Denver consisted of tract homes built in the 1950s. Mature elm trees shaded the sidewalks. In this house Jeffrey Livman had grown from a boy into a man.

“Mrs. Vera Livman?” He looked up from the clipboard he carried and glanced at the metal house numbers attached to the bricks next to the door. “I’m from the utility company.” He flicked a finger against the identification badge clipped to the pocket of his coveralls. A computer publishing program, a Polaroid camera and a small laminating machine made producing identification badges and cards a snap. At the moment he was Earl Spencer, employee number 187 with the gas company.

“We’ve got a suspected gas leak in this block. May I come in to check your lines, ma’am?” The lie slipped smoothly from his mouth—he’d used it before. It rarely failed, especially with older women who lived alone. He held up a toy laser gun. Shaped like an oversize television remote, it had an impressive array of dials, switches and lights. It made a terrific “gas detector.” “It won’t take five minutes, ma’am.”

“Gas? I haven’t smelled anything.” She blinked owl-ishly from behind thick bifocals.

“With any luck, you won’t. Safety first, though. It’s nothing to mess around with.”

She unlatched the storm door and pushed it open. “Certainly.”

He walked inside. “Gas leaks are worse in the summertime. People have their windows open so they don’t smell the fumes. Gas builds up in pockets. Is your husband home, ma’am? I’d like to show you both where the—”

“I’m a widow.” She nervously rubbed her hands together.

He noticed the telltale swelling of arthritis in her knuckles. He noticed, too, the guileless trust in her eyes.

A pang of conscience tightened his chest. He preferred gathering information in a straightforward manner. Ask the questions, glean what answers he could, then split. He needed, however, to handle this operation as he did for the occasional bail jumpers he traced—carefully, without alarming friends and family with too many questions. He especially didn’t want to alarm Livman’s mother. No matter what, a mother’s love won out every single time.

He’d discovered a worrisome pattern in Livman’s life. The man apparently felt no qualms about dumping jobs, homes, cars or acquaintances. In the past twenty years, he’d worked for more than a dozen real-estate companies. He’d bought and sold dozens of homes and properties. Nobody seemed to know Livman well. A few people had been surprised to learn he’d been married and was now a widower. Easy suspected if the heat turned up too high, Livman wouldn’t have a second thought about skipping the state. Still, sneaking around, asking covert questions and hoping nobody noticed his interest, was getting on Easy’s nerves.

Mrs. Livman showed him to the basement. It had linoleum flooring, simulated wood panelling on the walls, and that funky, old-house-basement smell. It reminded him of the house where he’d grown up. While the woman hovered anxiously, he played with the laser toy, sweeping it around the gas lines, furnace and water heater. He made lights blink and a few presses of his thumb caused dial indicators to jump.

“Clean as a whistle,” he announced.

“Oh, good! You were scaring me, young man.”

“Sorry. My instrument is sensitive. But everything is operating normally. No leaks, no problems. Thank you for your time, ma’am, and sorry for bothering you.”

She protested heartily that he was no bother at all. At the top of the stairs, he noticed the knob was loose on the basement door. He pretended to lose his grip on his clipboard and while catching it, he gave the doorknob an ex-trahard shake. It rattled loudly.

“You’re about to lose your doorknob, ma’am.”

She sighed heavily. “Sometimes it just seems like this old house is falling apart. Sort of like I am.”

He pulled a Phillips head screwdriver from his work belt. “Just need to tighten the screws, ma’am. Only take a second.”

Her smile beamed pure gratitude; he lowered his head so she couldn’t see his shame. He jiggled the doorknob into place and tightened the screws. As he sensed she might, she acted as if he’d saved her from a burning building. She offered him something to drink. He made a show of checking his watch, but allowed her to coax him into accepting the offer.

In the small living room he pretended to make notes on the clipboard while she fetched him a glass of lemonade. He sipped and declared it the best he’d ever tasted. Then he nodded at a large, framed portrait hanging prominently in the middle of a montage of photographs. It pictured five girls, ranging from around ten to perhaps eighteen, all of them blue-eyed blondes with pretty faces and big smiles. Seated on the lap of the eldest girl was a toddler, a blond, blue-eyed boy.

“Your family?”

“My children.” She practically wriggled with pride. “All grown-up now and on their own. They visit whenever they can.”

“My wife and I have only one boy. He’s a handful. A real little terror.”

“Boys are like that. Always into one thing or another.” She clucked her tongue. “Mischief and pranks and being ornery. I never had a speck of trouble with the girls, but Jeff sure gave me the devil.”

“I bet it was hard,” Easy said sympathetically.

“It sure was! My husband died soon after little Jeff was born, leaving me with six kids and no money. Fortunately I was a skilled legal secretary. I managed to support us. And the girls were a great help with little Jeff.” She giggled. “He’s not so little anymore. But he’s still my baby. He would have come to fix that doorknob, but he’s a very important businessman. He owns a huge real-estate company down south in Colorado Springs.”

A creepy sensation crawled up Easy’s spine. Livman’s sisters were all blue-eyed blondes. Roberta had been a blue-eyed blonde. As was Catherine. While Mrs. Livman waxed poetic about her perfect family and how the girls all rallied to help their mother raise the baby boy, Easy began to wonder if perhaps something more than money had motivated Livman to kill his wife.

CATHERINE HOPPED onto a picnic table. She shook her ponytail and raked damp tendrils of hair off her face. Not a whiff of breeze offered a cooling touch on her hot face, but she didn’t care. She loved Fox Run Park with its winding trails and pine trees. Oscar and Bent loved it, too. Mouths wide open and tongues dragging, the greyhounds lay in a patch of shade, serenely watching the small lake below.

She watched Jeffrey stretch his hamstrings. He’d been avoiding her all week. She’d hurt his feelings during the scene at the Grape and Olive. She’d acted poorly—reacted poorly. He loved her and she had treated his proposal like a personal attack. No wonder he’d been short on the telephone and “busy” all week. It surprised her somewhat that he’d agreed to meet her for a run in the park this morning.

“For an old guy,” she said, “you run pretty good.”

“Old, huh?” He used both hands to swipe sweat off his face. He sat on the picnic table beside her.

She admired the way he looked in his shorts and sleeveless T-shirt, his body toned and fit, his smile relaxed. He worked hard, vowing he’d be a millionaire before his fortieth birthday, but he knew how to play, too.

They liked the same music and movies. Both of them loved their work. Jeffrey enjoyed the outdoors—biking, hiking, running, camping—as much as she did. Most of the time they were so comfortable together it seemed as if she’d known him all her life.

“Can we talk?” she asked. All week she’d been working toward this conversation, seeking the perfect time and place. Now alone in the park, she knew it would never get better than this.

“Uh-oh, sounds serious.”

She couldn’t face him. “It’s about…the other night.”

“Is this a good talk? Or the kiss of death?”

She rested her forearms on her knees. This was hard. She didn’t know anything about relationships. “I owe you an apology. I realize now that what you did was very special. You’re romantic and impulsive, and I do want you to know I appreciate the gesture.”

He snorted. “Didn’t look appreciative. It was a real kick in the gut when you ran out on me.”

She cringed inwardly. She’d had plenty of time to consider what he meant to her. After Easy’s visit, it struck her that she could live her life on hold, or she could really live. A man as good as Jeffrey didn’t come along every day. Considering how difficult it was for her to meet new people, she might never meet another man like him. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You’re right, we’re good together. We could make a great life.”

He lifted an eyebrow. His lips pursed. “It seems to me, that’s what I told you.”

“Please don’t be difficult, Jeffrey. I’m trying to apologize. To explain. There’s something I have to tell you, but it’s hard.”

“Sounds ominous.”

Maybe it was. She watched crows wheeling lazy circles over the pine trees. Did she love Jeffrey? If love meant respect, affection and a desire for his approval, then she did. It felt far, far different than what she’d felt for Easy. That, she reasoned, had been infatuation, not true, mature love.

“Cath—”

“Give me a minute. This is hard. I’ve never talked about it before.” She licked her lips and swiped sweat off her brow. The only way to say it was to just say it. “When I was sixteen, a junior in high school, I fell in love with a boy. I got pregnant. I gave the baby up for adoption.” She closed her eyes, waiting.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it” She made herself look at him, seeking clues to his reaction.

“You’ve never told anybody?”

Bemused by his nonreaction, she lifted a shoulder. “Nowadays, the talk shows and magazines make out-of-wedlock babies seem like no big deal. But it was a big deal to me, and still is.” She stretched out her legs and flexed her feet. “It still hurts.”

“Are you scared I’ll call you damaged goods and stomp off?”

It startled her to discover that was exactly what she feared. At hearing it said aloud, it seemed ridiculous. She forced a smile. “I don’t know: Will you?”

He laughed and picked up her hand. “I should have known it was something like this. You’re too sensitive. I’m glad you told me, Catherine. Honest. It explains a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Like why it’s so hard getting close to you.” He scowled in mock ferocity and leaned his face close to hers. “Why you ran out on me when I proposed. I felt like a jerk. Not to mention wasting a bottle of very expensive champagne.”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you.” His scowl transformed into a smile. “Does this mean you love me?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated. She’d loved Easy Martel, passionately, desperately, painfully, joyfully. One of his smiles could leave her floating on air all day long. His touch had set her on fire. She’d placed her heart at his feet and invited him, without reservations, to do with it what he would.

That was a long, long time ago.

With Jeffrey there was no pain, but no mindless joy either. She enjoyed talking to him, but the sound of his voice didn’t set her heart racing. When she imagined a life with him, her visions made practical sense. Jeffrey could do repairs on the house and maintain the cars. He could give her financial advice. She could make sure his laundry was done and he ate properly. They’d keep each other company and make babies. He seemed very safe. Very sensible.

“Yes, I love you, Jeffrey.”

His smile rivaled the sun. He caught her shoulders and planted an exuberant kiss on her lips. “You’ll marry me? Say yes, Catherine. Say yes or I’ll die right here as we speak.”

“Wait a minute! Wait!” She struggled out of his em-brace and half turned to put her back to him. From inside her damp sports bra she worked loose a chain where she carried the engagement ring. The sapphire and diamonds flashed and sparkled with cold fire. She pulled the chain over her head and unfastened the clasp, freeing the ring. For a long moment she stared at the shiny piece of jewelry. Once she committed, there was no turning back. She closed her eyes and envisioned a yard full of laughing children. She handed him the ring.

She offered him her left hand, her fingers extended.

With great solemnity, he slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. “So when are we getting married? Tomorrow?”

She hopped off the table. “No quickies.” She waved her left hand slowly, admiring the beautiful ring. “I want plenty of time to savor my status as a fiancée.” She pointed at the gazebo perched on a rock pile that jutted into the lake. “We’re doing this right. I want to get married there.”

His features tightened. “In the park? Like hippies?”

His reaction dismayed her, but she quickly recovered. He was a special guy, but still a guy, and she doubted if wedding plans interested him in the least. “It’ll be beautiful, and dignified.”

He loosed a martyred sigh. “Let’s run off to Vegas. We don’t need a dog and pony show.”

“I only intend to get married once. I’m not doing it in a cheesy chapel officiated by an Elvis impersonator. We’ll have a proper wedding. If you really object to holding it outdoors, then we’ll do it in church.”

“Whatever you want,” he grumbled.

She poked his chin playfully. “Countless men have survived weddings. You will, too.” She laughed, whirling in a dreamy circle. Oscar and Bent leaped to their feet and posed ready to run. She ruffled their floppy ears. She did love Jeffrey and this was the right decision and they’d live happily ever after—

She spotted Easy Martel.

She stopped so quickly, she stumbled and stared open-mouthed toward the other, smaller lake. Only Easy’s head was visible, his hair as black and glossy as the wings of crows flying overhead. He wore dark sunglasses, but she knew. He spied on her!

She confessed her youthful indiscretion to her fiancé, and then lo and behold, there’s the daddy. Easy’s timing couldn’t be more appalling.

“Catherine?”

“I have to get home. Oscar, Bent, come.” The dogs crowded her legs and she gathered their leashes.

Jeffrey put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

She sneaked a peek toward Easy. He’d ducked out of sight. The Front Range, encompassing Colorado Springs, stretching from Fountain to the far south and Monument to the north, covered an area more than forty miles long. In the eight months she’d been living here, she hadn’t run into a single person she knew from her childhood. That Easy Martel chose this particular day to be in Fox Run Park was not a coincidence.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said weakly. “I have a million things to do.”

He glowered at his wristwatch. “I cancelled two appointments to run with you this morning. Don’t jerk me around.”

She scuffed her running shoe through a pile of pine straw. “See what happens when I get frazzled? I turn into a flaky artist.” She fished in her fanny pack for her Blazer keys. She tossed them to him. “You drive.”

He eyed her suspiciously, but acted amiably enough as she herded him and the dogs to her Blazer parked above the lake. She began to wonder if she’d conjured Easy out of her guilty conscience.

By the time they reached the park entrance, she convinced herself she hadn’t seen Easy. When she adjusted the air-conditioner vent to blow on her hot face, she noticed in the side mirror a white car pulling out of the park behind them. She thought little of it until they reached Roller Coaster Road and turned right, and the car turned right behind them. The car continued following them south, all the way to Shoup Road where she felt certain it would continue toward the Springs, but it turned after them.

“You haven’t heard a word I said,” Jeffrey complained.

“What?” She clenched her hands on her lap, resisting the urge to turn on the seat to see better the driver behind them. She hadn’t a clue as to why Easy had appeared on her doorstep last week, as she hadn’t a clue as to why he followed her now. A sinking sensation, however, said telling him about the baby they’d made twelve years ago had been a major mistake. He’d been a quick-tempered, impulsive boy with far more energy than good sense. For all she knew, he hadn’t changed. She wouldn’t put it past him to pester her until she told him what happened to Elizabeth.

“What is the matter with you, Catherine?”

She should tell him about Easy. After all, it had been Easy’s surprise visit which had clinched her decision to marry Jeffrey. As her official fiancé, Jeffrey had a right to know about any unresolved issues from her past.

He slowed to turn into her driveway. The white car slowed behind them. Anger boiled up like bubbling soup, infusing her blood, tightening her jaw.

“Don’t talk to me then.” Jeffrey turned the wheel sharply. In the back seat, Oscar and Bent lost their balance. Jeffrey managed to hit every pothole and rut in the driveway. The dogs bounced around, unable to get their feet under them. Bent fell onto the floor.

“Quit driving like a maniac!” Catherine yelled.

He slammed on the brakes and gawked at her.

She covered her mouth with a hand. The dogs grumbled as they rearranged themselves in the back seat. She stared at the side mirror, expecting to see Easy pull in behind them. Clouds of dust hovered like haze over the driveway.

“You were happy and practically singing, then all the sudden you’re acting like a lunatic. You won’t talk to me, then you’re yelling. Is it hormones or something?”

His sexist comment earned him a dark glower.

He drove forward. “I will not have you yelling at me.”

Tell him, she urged herself, but could not find the words. “I guess my nerves are…I don’t know…I’m sorry, okay? Please forgive me.”

He pulled into the garage and shut off the Blazer’s engine.

“I’m so sorry. I desperately need a shower and a cup of coffee and a chance to pull myself together.” She pushed open the door and went around to the side door to let the dogs out. They gave Jeffrey canine equivalents of filthy looks before hopping out of the Blazer and stalking toward the house.

“You can’t treat me like this.”

For a moment he sounded so much like her father—cold and authoritarian—she froze, her mind gone blank. Ridiculous, she told herself. Jeffrey was nothing like her father.

She forced a smile and used her left hand to smooth hair off her face, exaggerating her movements so he noticed the engagement ring. With no sign of Easy or even the sound of a car engine, her agitation faded. Maybe she’d dreamed him up after all. “You’re wonderful and perfect and I do love you.”

He held out her car keys. When she opened her hand, he dropped them onto her palm. “And you’re nuts, lady. What am I going to do with you?” His voice was calm, but lines strained his brow and cheeks.

Catherine swallowed hard. His quiet fury frightened her in a way she couldn’t quite define. “I’m so sorry. Please say you forgive me and kiss me?”

He caught her shoulders in both hands and kissed her.

EASY RAN THROUGH his repertoire of dirty words—after spending four years as a military policeman, he knew plenty. None served to describe how he felt watching Catherine St. Clair kiss a killer.

He crouched at the base of a towering ponderosa pine, and peered through the thick foliage of a scrub oak. He watched Livman grasp Catherine’s shoulders and pull her close. She slid her arms around his waist and her right foot raised until only the toe of her running shoe rested on the ground. Intimate, familiar, comfortable—the sight turned Easy’s stomach.

Catherine patted Livman’s cheek and said something that caused the man to laugh. Easy tensed, wondering if they’d go inside now. Perhaps to shower together, to…

Catherine hopped lightly onto the deck. She wore satin running shorts, electric blue under the sun. Her ponytail bounced around her shoulders. Livman strode to a black BMW parked in the shade of the house. She waved and went inside.

Easy watched Livman guide the BMW carefully around potholes. Livman’s face was taut, angry-looking as he drove past. Easy waited until he was sure the man wasn’t coming back.

Catherine had spotted Easy at the park. That much he knew for certain. What he did not know was if she’d told Livman. And if she had, what she’d told him. Easy considered how she might react when he told her why he’d been tailing them. He suspected she wouldn’t clasp her hands and say, “My goodness, Jeffrey is a killer? Thank you for telling me. I’ll break up with him right away.”

He hefted the envelope he carried. The man was a creep. Other than his mother, few people seemed to like him. Some people acted afraid of him. Former employers all had the same thing to say: Livman talked a good line and had a gift for salesmanship, but he was unethical, dishonest and lazy. He didn’t get along with men, but actively cultivated relationships with women. Livman had been arrested twice, both times for beating girlfriends. Both times, the women dropped the charges.

Catherine could blow this investigation with a single phone call. Easy walked a fine line between protecting her and catching Livman.

The way they’d been kissing decided him. Livman moved fast; Easy had to move faster. He walked up to the house. Guessing she might slam the door in his face, he prepared himself for her anger. He rang the bell.

Catherine surprised him with a smile. A cold smile, true, but it beat having her yell at him. “Are you a stalker? Do I need to get a restraining order against you?”

She hadn’t lost her sense of humor. Her attitude gave him hope. “I’m not stalking you.”

“I see. You just happened to be at the park, and you just happened to follow me home. Coincidence?”

“No coincidence. I was tailing you.”

She laughed softly and swung her head side to side, so her pony tail curled like a lover’s hand around her slender neck. Her laughter pierced his heart, drumming up old emotions. Impulsively, he touched his fingertips to her cheek. He knew his mistake as soon as he felt warm silky skin and her eyes widened. She jerked her head away. She clamped her arms over her breasts, her shoulders hunched.

He crammed his hand in his back pocket “Can I have five minutes of your time? Please?” He turned on his most winning smile. “It’s important.”

Her eyes narrowed and she backed a step into the house. He seized upon what most courts would interpret as an invitation and walked inside. She huffed about his trespass, but didn’t throw him out. His hope flourished. At age sixteen she’d been different from any other girl he knew. Now a grown woman, perhaps she’d prove different than most women when presented with distressing news about a boyfriend.

The skinny dogs hopped off a sofa, ears pricked and eyes suspicious. The slightly larger brown-and-white male raised his hackles. Keeping a wary eye on the dogs, Easy paused by the door.

Catherine sized up her escape routes. Easy blocked the door, but she could reach the sliding glass doors in the adjoining wall, or make it down the stairs. She didn’t sense anything dangerous about him. While they dated he’d always been gentle with her, but a man could change in twelve years.

“I brought something for you.” He held up a white, nine-by-twelve-inch envelope.

Her mouth felt sticky. She’d seen the recent news stories about adoptions gone sour. Courts were favoring parental rights over the rights of children. She’d erred twelve years ago in not telling Easy about the child. She’d lied on the birth certificate about not knowing the father’s name. If he pressed the issue by taking her to court, he could learn what happened to Elizabeth. Or worse, he could fight for custody. Whether or not he successfully contested the adoption was moot. No matter what happened, he would destroy Elizabeth’s life.

He approached. She forced herself to stand fast. She tried not to notice his graceful, loose-hipped walk. She tried not to notice her own pounding heart. “The past is history, Easy. I did the right thing for our baby. Let it rest. Please.”

Her reference to his lost child stabbed through his heart. He clutched the envelope so tightly that paper crunched. He wanted to know what had happened to his daughter. He needed to know. He realized it with a certainty that infused his very bones and laid bare the massive hole in his life created when he lost Catherine.

“Even if you had known, it wouldn’t have made any difference.” Her eyes went soft and pleading. “We were too young to get married and too young to raise a child. I did the right thing. Please accept it.”

He pulled his attention away from her. The spacious front room had been turned into an art studio. The walls were covered with anatomical posters. Easels held partially finished paintings. Old cups, mismatched vases and cans held arrangements of dried weeds and flowers. Cork boards were covered with photographs of animals. Plastic models ranging from dinosaurs to whales perched upon shelves. Bookshelves and tables overflowed with books and magazines. The place smelled of paint and chemicals, overlaid with an odor of something spicy cooking in the small kitchen off the studio.

“You’re an artist?” A stack of children’s books caught his attention. Elizabeth probably adored books.

“I illustrate children’s books.”

“You always did draw good pictures.” He glanced at the dogs. “I thought you were going to be a veterinarian. You were always taking care of sick birds and stuff. Remember the baby magpie?”

He placed the envelope carefully on a table, making certain she noticed it. He wanted to trace the fine sheen of sweat on her flushed skin, and rub her hair between his fingers. He wanted to kiss away all traces of Livman’s kiss from her mouth. He made himself stand in place; his joints ached with the effort.

Her gaze went distant, softening the tense muscles of her face. A trace of a smile curved her lips. “You named it Bosco. That was a dumb name for a bird.”

“Mom almost had a heart attack when she found it in my room. But we saved its life.”

She fussed with a messy stack of magazines. When she finally turned to him, all traces of fear had left her face. Even if Livman weren’t a stone-cold killer, Easy didn’t want the man touching her.

“I’m sorry for how I acted the other day. I don’t usually lose my temper like that. Please forgive me.”

Humbled by her apology, he remembered vividly why he’d loved her so much. Around her, he’d always felt like a man. Even at sixteen, she’d had class. Drawn by her shining eyes, he leaned closer to her, catching a whiff of sweet womanly scent heightened by her exercise-warmed skin. He stared into her eyes, mesmerized by their sparkling azure shadowed by lush brown lashes. Her pupils swelled and her eyelids lowered, darkening her eyes into mysterious pools. He drowned gladly.

Don’t, she thought. Don’t look at him, don’t stand so close, don’t remember….

The warnings in her head proved no defense against the burning intensity of his eyes. He cupped her chin in a gentle hand, lifting her face, and she was powerless, trapped as if in a dream from which her desire to escape was as weak as wisps of fog. His hand was cool against her skin. His breath was warm.

His lips were velvet.

She sprang away, gasping. “Who do you think you are?” In her haste to escape, she struck a table with her hip. Several cans of fixative clattered to the floor. She grabbed blindly for them.

He looked dazed. He raked a hand through his hair, mussing it into spikes.

“It’s over!” She thrust out her left hand, showing him the ring. “I’m engaged. I have a life. You can’t interfere. I won’t let you.”

His mouth fell open. “You can’t marry Jeffrey Livman!”

“I can and I will—” Now she realized the danger. Easy had been doing a lot more than merely following her around. For all she knew his impulsive nature had evolved into an obsessive-compulsive disorder. “How in the world do you know about Jeffrey?”

“I’m a private investigator.” He spoke in a rush, his voice harsh. “I’m not interfering in your life, I’m trying to save it. Jeffrey Livman murdered his wife, and now he’s targeted you. I knew you wouldn’t take my word for it, so I put together some hard information. It’s in the envelope. Read it.”

She wished she knew as much about mental disorders as she did about animal anatomy. She hadn’t the faintest idea how to handle his delusions. She clamped down on the urge to shout and threaten. If she angered him, he’d eventually get around to figuring out how to destroy her in court. “Okay, I’ll read it.”

The dogs crowded her legs. Oscar growled, an ominous rumbling from deep in his chest. She rested a hand on his head.

“I have a lot to do,” she said. “Is there a number where I can reach you?”

“Don’t blow me off, Tink. This isn’t a joke. Jeffrey Livman is a stone-cold killer. He collected half a million dollars from his wife’s death. He’ll do the same thing to you.”

“I’m sure you only mean the best for me.” She nodded, hoping to impress him with a show of credulity. “I’ll read your stuff. But I do have a lot to do and I really can’t ask you to stay. I’ll call you. I promise.” After she called her attorney and found out what kind of options she’d have in a legal battle. “I promise, Easy. I will call you.”

She held her breath, waiting. The look he gave her ripped at her heart and made her mouth burn where his kiss had touched her. But he left her home.

She sprang after him and threw the dead bolt. She eyed the envelope he’d left behind. If he’d turned into a deranged stalker intent on destroying her life, she didn’t know what she’d do.