Inside the Lines: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (24 page)

“You wouldn’t think. Since most places are closed…”

“Who’re ye looking for? I’ve lived here nearly ten years; I can probably help ye.”

I take a sip of my coffee. “The MacKenzies who own the cleaners.”

She eyes me curiously. “Aye, what do you want them for, then?”

What to say? I decide the truth is the way to go. “I’m actually trying to find Fin MacKenzie. He and I…well, we used to date. A while ago. And I made a bit of a mess of things, so I’m trying to find him and make it right. Or try to, at least.” Nothing like sharing one of your biggest blunders with a complete stranger, but the admission lightens the heaviness in my chest.

She pats my hand, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “I’ve buggered things up a time or two myself, so I ken the feeling. Let’s see, MacKenzie’s a common enough name around here, and I canna say I know the folks who own the cleaners, but Fin MacKenzie I know well. He’s a local footballer, ye ken?”

I nod. “Yes, he is. Does he live around here?”

“Canna say…” She thinks for a moment. “Och, I’m an ol’ fool! The local team, they always play a holiday game, unofficial, of course, down on the Douglas’s field. Been doing it since my own Samuel was a tyke. Ye should go out there. Ye might find him there, if he’s in town for the holiday.”

I feel a thrill of hope, but even though I do my best to follow her directions, I lose my way within minutes. So I follow the street I’m on in hopes that it will eventually lead to one of the streets she mentioned. Besides, it’s Christmas, and this might be a fool’s journey. I should enjoy the day and its brisk air, right? Embrace what comes, as my therapist encourages me to say.

The homes around me are decorated for Christmas, and while there are few people outside, the one or two I see wave and wish me a “Happy Christmas.”

Up ahead, there’s a wide field, and I hear the unmistakable shouts of men playing a sport. When I round the last house, I discover a horde of them, or so it seems, kicking a black and white ball out in the middle of the empty field. I lose count of how many are on the field, but at least a dozen and a half, playing with focus and abandon, wearing a mishmash of t-shirts, shorts, sweatpants, and even jeans. A few onlookers cheer and coach from the sidelines.

While I’ve never been much of a sports fan, watching their impressive footwork holds me in place. It’s impossible to guess at ages from this distance, but they are agile and quick. I scan the teams, but no one looks familiar. My heart sinks, but then one of them calls out in victory. I would know that voice anywhere. His dark copper hair’s long, nearly touching his shoulders, and he’s wearing a beanie, so it was easy to miss him. But his height sets him apart, and when he turns, making a play for the ball, I get a clear view of his face. My breath catches in my throat.

He looks, of course, the same, but there’s something different about him. I can’t place just what. Maybe it’s the time apart. I settle against a small shed just off the road, and I can’t take my eyes away from the tall baller who’s having the time of his life, picking good-naturedly on another player and diving after a ball when he takes over the goalie position. After a half hour or so, I’m frozen to the bone, and I nearly collapse with gratitude when they disperse, collecting shed clothing, and head off en masse towards parked cars. I lose my nerve. I’ve waited too long to do this. The man I just watched is happy, content, and probably has a girl waiting for him back home. But the fear that I might have made a huge mistake by coming here wars with my need to talk to him, to be in the same space with him.

A last minute decision, I run after them, my Doc Martens not much of a match for their long strides. As they pile in cars to leave, I’m too far away to reach them.

I’m bent over in the middle of the field, trying to catch my breath.

“Lux?”

I hear his shout and glance up. Fin steps out of one of the cars. Unsure what to do, I wave, feeling like a fool.

He says something to his friends, then starts towards me. He’s in basketball shorts, and he’s pulled his leather jacket on over his long-sleeve t-shirt. His face wears a mask of confusion and, thankfully, a slight smile when he finally reaches me. “Lux, what are ye doing here?” His voice holds a bit of wonderment, which gives me hope.

This is the part I didn’t plan out very well. “Merry Christmas?” I sound like an idiot.

“Aye, well, yeah, Merry Christmas to ye too.” He grins, and shyness rises up between us. “Are ye here for the holiday?”

“Yes. No.” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I’m here for you.” I bite my lip. “To find you, I mean.”

“Ye found me. Not particularly hard to do in this place.” His aquamarine eyes capture mine as they always have, and he steps back. “Ye’re going to freeze out here.” He shrugs out of his coat, then lifts it over me to tuck around my shoulders.

He smells clean, a little sweaty, and the fragrance I remember tortures my senses. “I don’t want to interrupt your time with your friends. I can come back later.” Two cars have pulled out, but the others are still there, engines running.

He seems to sense my hesitance, and perhaps even the reason. So he waves to them, shouts something about catching up with them later, and then turns to me. “Let’s walk to the diner, then. We can warm up.”

We fall into step, and he guides our way. We’re silent on the walk, as though we’re both a little afraid to break the precious space with words.

Inside the toasty diner, we take a table, and the waitress smiles heartily and winks at me. “I’ll get ye some coffee, then.”

After she leaves, he eyes me, and I look away. I don’t know how to start, even though I rehearsed what I wanted to say on the plane ride.

“Were ye looking to join the football league? Or were ye going to say something?” He chides me lightly, but there’s a bit of frustration behind the words.

I glance over at him, then return my gaze to the fork in front of me, twisting it between my fingers. “Sorry. I keep trying to figure out what to say, actually, but everything sounds a bit…ridiculous.”

“Why don’t ye start with why ye’re here?”

“Because I’m an idiot? Because I’ve missed you every day since I acted like an asshole? Because I should have been honest with you instead of hiding behind my fear?”

He pauses, and when I look up, I’m surprised to find a bit of awe on his face.

“Damn, woman, when ye jump in, ye go all the way.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, I was a Dominatrix for a reason.”

“Was? Are ye retired, then?” A shadow of his crooked smile appears.

“Something like that.” I sigh, then continue. “Kinked—the dating service I was working on—it’s doing really well, so it takes up all my time.”

“Well then. That’s good. Congratulations,” he says quietly.

My earlier statement hangs over us, and now it’s his turn to fidget, tearing the edge of a napkin.

“Ye said ye dinna love me.”

The anguish behind his simple statement hits me like a blow to the stomach. “I know. I’m sorry. I have no excuses for the way I acted. I was fighting you as much as I was fighting myself.”

“What changed for ye? If ye couldna love me then, as I loved ye, why is it different now?”

I’ve struggled with how to respond to this question for the last few weeks, and I’ve never had a satisfactory answer. Not because I haven’t changed my way of thinking, but more because I don’t know how to put it into words. And for the first time, I have to do it for more than just myself—I owe it to Fin. “Because I lied to you, Fin. I loved you even then. So much, it scared me. I’ve never felt that way. I mean, I’ve been ‘in love.’ With all the lust and excitement that it entails, sure. But I’ve never felt for anyone what I felt—feel—for you, and it took my world apart. Who was I if I wasn’t independent and a loner? What kind of career could I have and still have a relationship? And so I fought it. I fought you.”

“But I never asked ye to change anything.”

If I thought I had caused him pain before, the look on his face now…it occurs to me how monstrous I truly was to him. And I’m ashamed. “I know you didn’t. This is not your fault. None of it. I had a lot of shit to deal with from when I was a teenager, and honestly, I didn’t even know how deep it went. But I’m taking care of it now. I found a therapist, and I’m working through all the crap in my head.” I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold in the tiny amount of heat left as my body chills at the realization that too much damage has been done. I can’t repair this. “You didn’t deserve any of the crap I put you through. I’m sorry.”

He looks at me, his emotions deepening the brackets around his mouth and the wounds in his eyes. “I know ye are. And I appreciate ye coming all this way to tell me that. But I dinna ken what to say. Ye broke me, Lux Trace. And it hurt. I’ve spent the last year trying to get over ye.”

I nod, the tears needling my eyes as I blink quickly, determined not to cry in front of him. “I know. And it’s okay. I needed to at least apologize. I realize that it’s been a really long time, and you’re probably already seeing someone else.”

He looks down guiltily.

Damn. I had no idea what it would feel like to have my heart ripped in two, but the pain is magnificent. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—” I wipe at the tears viciously. “No, I should have. I needed to apologize to you. You deserve to be happy, and I hope you are.” I reach out, unable to resist touching him one last time, and squeeze his hand, his fingers hot against the ice of mine. Then I shrug out of his coat, leaving it on the back of the chair. With one last look at him, his handsome face a mask I can’t quite decipher, I leave the restaurant.

Chapter 30

If At First You Don’t Succeed

February

The New Year brings with it a sense of renewal, and while I can’t say I’m feeling particularly hopeful about my love life, I’m determined to make a fresh start.

Kinked has exploded, and I have a huge staff—well, to me, it’s huge. Divine, Inc. has even contacted me about investing, but I’ve been putting them off. Noah’s back to his womanizing ways, and though I’ve asked a few questions, he clams up, so I let him go. Far be it from me to be telling someone how they should live.

I live part-time in the city, actually. Zi and I have been testing out being roommates, and so far, it’s going pretty well. It’s nice to see her more. But I’ve been a city girl for too long to give it up entirely. Noah says he’s sharing custody of me.

I’ve tried dating. Twice. With less than stunning results. Running a dating service certainly makes it convenient, but my luck at love’s as fickle as the next person’s, I guess. As I told my therapist, I’m trying to trust that when the time is right, I’ll meet the right person. In the meantime, I have vibrators.

Oh, and Noah got a puppy. I’m not sure if it’s something to do with women being attracted to men with dogs—though, given that Noah’s a hottie, he needn’t worry—but it’s a little rescue pup named Tag, so when I’m home, we take turns letting him out.

It’s Valentine’s Day, but I’m trying not to think about it. I’ve got plenty of spreadsheets that need attention, web design drafts that need to be reviewed, and Tag is determined to ruin my concentration with his dark little eyes and determination to step all over my keyboard.

Noah peeks his head into the living room. “Hey, can you hang around the place for a little bit? Tag hasn’t pooped yet, and I don’t trust him, do I, little man?” Noah addresses the dog with a singsong voice.

Tag glances up at him from his resting place on my lap, where he’s batting at my hands as I type. I ruffle his ears, then stroke his silky head. “I got Tag-watch for this afternoon. What time will you be back?”

“An hour? Maybe two?”

“Lunchtime fuck, or an actual date?”

Noah’s mouth presses into a flat line of mock indignation. “Just for that, I will give you no details, you evil wench.” He flounces out the door dramatically, making me laugh.

Tag watches me curiously but is easily satisfied with a tummy rub, and I return to reading emails. Within minutes, though, there’s a knock at the door. Tag hasn’t quite got the hang of barking yet, so instead, he whimpers and looks up at me.

“I know, killer. I’ll take care of the big bad visitor.” I deposit him in the kitchen, which is gated off to prevent against messes on the living room carpet, then head to the door.

I nearly swallow my tongue when I see who it is.

He’s cut his hair. It’s not short, but gone are the long curls that I saw in December. He’s freshly shaven, and he wears a blue sweater and trendy jeans, with leather sneakers, a backpack hanging from one shoulder. It’s such a different look for him, but I couldn’t care less as I meet his gaze.

“Hello,” he says softly.

“Hi.” I memorize his face while my heart pounds in my ears.

“Do ye happen to know where a tourist can get a coffee nearby? I seem to have lost my way.”

I’m not sure how to answer that. “Um…”

He chuckles, taking a step back self-consciously. “Aye, now that it’s my turn to start the conversation, I seem to have the same problem ye did.” But when his eyes meet mine, the questions there need no words.

I’m fresh-faced, still in last night’s pajama pants, and I’m not even sure that I brushed my teeth this morning. That doesn’t stop me from pulling his mouth to mine. When his arm encircles me, I lean into him, exploring him hungrily. He holds me against him, stepping inside so he can close the door behind us.