Shadow of a Doubt (Tangled Ivy Book 2) (35 page)

Turning away, he drank the entire glass of wine. After setting the glass back on the counter, he rubbed a hand over his face.

“You’re not, though,” he said. “You’re really, really not.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

His gaze met mine. “How many close calls were there this time, Ivy?” he asked. “How many wounds have healed? How many scars will he leave on you before you decide enough is enough?”

I looked away from his penetrating gaze. “Devon has a dangerous job,” I said. “He’s never hidden that from me. But it doesn’t matter anyway because . . . we broke up.”

Scott seemed utterly taken aback. “You broke up?”

I nodded. “He said it was too dangerous, us being together.”

“You sound like you don’t agree.”

I shrugged. “He could’ve quit his job, just lived a normal life.” My gaze lifted to Scott’s. “But he didn’t.”

I could tell he’d understood what I couldn’t say. “Aw, Ivy. Damn. I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh. He wrapped an arm around my neck and drew me toward him for a hug.

“It’s okay,” I said. And it would be. Eventually.

Scott didn’t stay much longer after that. Having assured himself that I was okay, and realizing that I needed time, he left after a while.

“Can I call you?” he asked as I walked him to the door. “Maybe we can get together. Have lunch or something.”

I smiled, but hesitated.

“Just as friends,” he assured me.

My smile widened and I relaxed. Friends were good. I needed them. And Scott had proven already to be a good friend, the kind even Devon would have given the appellation to.

“I’d like that,” I said.

He’d nodded, given me one last hug, and disappeared down the hallway. For once, Beau didn’t pop out of his apartment to check things out.

The days settled into the same routine after that, but my perspective had changed. What once I viewed as safe and normal now seemed tedious and dull. Whereas I’d been able to look forward to Devon’s unexpected reappearances into my life—and my bed—now nothing loomed but day after day of unending sameness.

When I’d been unpacking, I’d come across the suit of his I’d stashed away what seemed like forever ago. I hadn’t removed it from my luggage when we’d been in Amsterdam or on Maui, and now it was the sole reminder I had of Devon’s presence. For a while, it smelled of his cologne, but the scent had faded to almost nothing now. It made me sad, so I no longer tried to smell the soft fabric.

I’d come across the phone Devon had given me, too. His number was still programmed in, but I didn’t dial it. What was there to say that hadn’t already been said? But I longed to hear his voice, hear him say my name, call me
sweet Ivy
again.

Perhaps he had already found another woman to “warm his bed,” as he’d called it.

Tears dripped down my cheeks as I stared out the window at the dark sky. It was the middle of the night and I couldn’t sleep. Insomnia had plagued me in the weeks since I’d been back, Levin invading my dreams with knives carving me to pieces until I woke up, screaming for Devon.

Beau had mentioned it once in passing, and I’d been mortified that I’d screamed loud enough for him to hear.

“Oh, just some nightmares,” I’d said, blowing it off with a forced laugh. “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

But he hadn’t laughed. In fact, he’d looked downright serious when he’d said, “I know the name of a great psychiatrist. Talking about it can help.”

I hadn’t taken him up on it, but I had begun drinking more in the evenings. Wine helped me get to sleep and stay asleep.

I watched the news avidly, looking for any story that might give a clue as to Devon’s whereabouts. But it was impossible to tell.

My friends had been wonderful, keeping me busy and trying to make sure I didn’t dwell. Things had gone back to normal with Logan and me, which had been a relief. He hadn’t been tomcatting like usual, but I didn’t consider that a bad thing.

Scott and I had been spending a lot of time together, too, just as friends. I thought he might be interested in more, but I wasn’t ready for that. So we just hung out. We went to a few ball games,
had dinner, saw a couple of movies, but he hadn’t tried to take things further.

It was the Friday before the Fourth of July and he’d convinced me to go to some play at the local university. It had been so awful, we’d left at intermission.

“I don’t know what you thought was so bad,” he teased as we’d strolled toward his car. “I find naked actors completely normal.”

“Well, it was entertaining,” I allowed, chuckling. “Just not exactly . . . my taste.”

Scott laughed, too. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I should’ve done more research on this one before bringing you here.”

We’d reached his car and he opened the passenger door for me, as he always did. “It’s not a problem,” I said. “Certainly something I won’t forget anytime soon. Unfortunately.”

We shared a laugh and I turned to get in the car, then stopped, glancing behind Scott into the shadows that edged the lot.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to look as well.

I stared hard, but the movement I thought I’d seen didn’t come again. I shook my head. “Nothing. Probably just a squirrel or something.” I slid into the car.

“The evening is still early,” he said. “Want to grab a bite to eat?”

“Yeah, sure.”

We ended up at a cozy little restaurant that had outdoor seating, which was perfect for the weather. Summer was in full swing but the evenings could still have a chill to them. The light wrap I had was enough to keep my bare arms warm. I’d worn a cute little dress with strappy heels. Dressing up made me more cheerful, and I’d taken care with my hair and makeup.

Scott seemed to appreciate it, his gaze roving over me as we ate dinner. He kept refilling my glass of wine, telling me tales of when he’d gone into the FBI Academy after college. Some of his mishaps had me laughing until my stomach hurt.

“I can’t believe they still let you be an agent,” I teased him.

“Well, my aim has gotten a lot better since then,” he said with a smile.

It was nice, being with him. Relaxing and easy. No drama, no angst, no bad guys wanting to use me as a punching bag.

It was something to think about.

I passed on dessert, though Scott ordered tiramisu. He insisted I have some.

“There’s no way I can eat all this,” he said. “C’mon, have a bite.”

He scooped a bite and held it out to me. I eyed it, then gave in, leaning forward and letting him feed it to me.

“Mmmm.” It was very good and he teased me as he scooped up a few more bites for me.

“I told you it was amazing,” he said. His gaze dropped to my lips and a warning bell went off inside my head.

“No more, I’m so full!” I begged off, sitting back in my chair.

As I usually paid my share when we went out, I picked up my purse when the check came, but Scott waved me off.

“I got it,” he said.

“Don’t be silly. We always go Dutch.”

“Not tonight,” he said.

Something about the way he said that made me look more closely at him. “Why?” I asked. “Why not tonight?”

“I’m a cop, Ivy,” he said with a grin. “Did you think I wouldn’t know it’s your birthday?”

My cheeks grew warm. “I didn’t really tell anyone,” I said. Logan was out of town on business and had made me promise I’d go to dinner with him when he got back.

“So you’re going to let me buy you dinner,” he said. “It’s kind of a present for myself as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I pay, then it’s a date. And I’d really like to think of tonight as a date.” He shrugged, looking somewhat abashed.

It was sweet, and unexpected, and it caught me off guard. I suddenly realized Scott had dressed nicer than usual. Not that he didn’t always look good, but tonight he’d worn a sport coat with jeans, his shoes gleaming from a fresh shine, and he’d shaved, his jaw bereft of any five-o’clock shadow.

“I really appreciate it, thank you,” I said as the server retrieved the check and money Scott had put down.

He stood, setting aside his linen napkin and taking my hand as I got to my feet. “I’ve had a good time tonight,” he said. “And I’m really glad I got to spend your birthday with you. So I’ll buy, and you can sing instead of me.”

I laughed. “Oh no. I promise that you do
not
want to hear me sing.”

He grimaced. “That bad?”

“I make yowling cats sound like a symphony of angels.”

Scott laughed, slotting our fingers together as we walked to the car. “Well, you couldn’t be perfect,” he said. “There had to be something wrong with you.”

I shook my head. “I’m far from perfect, but even I know that singing is not a talent I possess.”

We’d reached the car and he paused in front of me, his expression turning serious. “I think you’re about as perfect as it gets,” he said.

He was so sincere, my smile faded, too. I was touched that he’d think that of me. I certainly wasn’t worthy of being put on a pedestal, but the way he was looking at me made me feel like I was.

As he stepped closer, Scott’s hands moved to settle on my waist and it felt like the most natural thing to rest my hands on his shoulders.

“Thanks for my birthday dinner,” I said.

“I didn’t get you a gift,” he said. “Except maybe . . .” He gave me plenty of time to move away, but I didn’t. Lowering his head, he kissed me.

It was a good kiss. I was attracted to Scott and we’d become good friends the past few months. His tongue lightly brushed mine, tentative at first, then more sure when I didn’t pull away. He moved closer, his hands tightening as his body pressed mine against the car.

Unbidden, Devon flitted through my mind, and a shaft of bitter sorrow hit my gut. And I couldn’t be in the moment with Scott when all I was thinking about was Devon.

I pushed gently and Scott lifted his head, breaking off the kiss. He lifted his hand to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek.

“Sorry,” I said.

Scott laughed lightly. “You apologize too much,” he said.

“I don’t want you to think—”

“Shh,” he said. “Don’t overthink it. I know it’s soon. That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere, and there’s no rush.”

His eyes were warm in the darkness, his touch soft, and I felt safe. I wondered if he still saw me as the damsel in distress, though now there was nothing to save me from. I hoped not. I hoped what he saw when he looked at me was just a normal girl who’d had it rough for a while but was living her life like anybody else.

Scott drove me home and walked me to my door. He didn’t try to kiss me again and I told him I’d make him a cake for dessert after our next dinner out.

“It’ll be out of a box and the icing from a jar, but hey, it’s cake,” I said.

“I’d like that,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze.

He pressed a kiss to my cheek and was the perfect gentleman. I lingered outside my door and watched him head down the hallway.
He glanced back when he got to the stairs, giving me a crooked smile, then he was gone.

Beau had his door open in a flash.

“So I see we’ve moved the FBI agent out of the Friend Zone,” he said with a knowing smile, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb.

I laughed. “Beau, do you mind everyone else’s business but your own?”

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you,” he said.

“I bet.”

“You don’t want him around anymore for any reason, just let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

I gave him a weird look. That seemed a strange thing for him to say. “Really, it’s okay. But I’ll keep that in mind.” I stepped back into my apartment. “Good night, Beau.”

“’Night, Ivy.”

I closed and locked the door behind me, setting aside my purse. The phone with Devon’s number sat inside and my fingers itched to touch it.

I hesitated, then grabbed my purse, digging the phone out. I kept it charged at all times, but it had never rung. It just sat there, a constant reminder that Devon
wasn’t
calling me, and that I shouldn’t call him.

But it was my birthday, so . . .

Before I could change my mind, I punched the buttons to dial the one pre-programmed number. Barely breathing, I waited, wondering if the number still worked and if it did, if Devon would answer.

It rang in my ear . . . then it rang in my apartment.

I nearly screamed, flinging myself backward against the door in a panic and dropping the phone.

Devon stepped out of the shadows.

“You rang?” he asked.

I stared in stunned amazement, speechless.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” I stammered, unable to believe my eyes.

“I’m afraid I left something behind,” he said, walking toward me.

My heart had leapt when I’d seen him. Now, it sank.

“You’re here because you
left
something? Are you kidding me?”

The half-smile on his face faded away at my furious words.

The sound of my palm striking his face made a loud
crack
in the silent apartment.

I’d hit him as hard as I could, without even thinking about it first. It had just been my immediate reaction. My hand stung something fierce.

Neither of us spoke and he was slow to turn back to me, his icy blue eyes meeting mine.