The Art of Love and Murder (34 page)

“We’ll talk.” She winked at Lacy and headed down the stairs.

Her face still flamed hot when Chance sat down in the chair Phoebe vacated. She wanted to pinch herself. Seeing him here in the Lacy Latte, here in Scottsdale, didn’t feel real. She didn’t think she’d ever see him again. Perhaps this was a follow up professional visit?

His eyes smiled, but he glanced away when she stared back.

“Thank you for the photos.” Her stomach churned. She grasped her teacup with both hands.

“I hope you don’t mind too much that I came here.” His eyes changed to serious cinnamon, dousing her with memories that seemed ages ago.

“I’m open to the public.” It came out snide, and she frowned at herself.

“I hoped—”

“That was rude. I’m sorry.”

A few moments of awkward silence filled the space between them. She sipped her tea and kept him in her peripheral vision. He stirred her every bit as much as the visions that filled her dreams. In between the nightmares.

“You have a nice place here. Comfortable.” He looked directly at her, so deep she averted her eyes. “Classy like you.”

“Thank you.” He shouldn’t do that. She couldn’t stand the warmth. She ached.

The sounds of customers ordering drifted into their space. “Would you like something?”

“Will you let me have it here, or do I have to get it to go?”

She couldn’t help laughing. God that felt good. “Let’s see if I remember. Sumatra?”

“Actually, I’ll try the chai. I hear it’s the best in Arizona.”

“It is.” Surprising herself, she managed to walk to the banister without her knees buckling. He didn’t come all this way to have a chai at her café. She stood at the railing waiting to catch Hazel’s eye. If here on official business, she wished he’d say so and get on with it. Although, she hadn’t exactly urged him to get to the point and leave. When her chief barista turned in her direction, she waved and mouthed her order. Hazel beamed and Lacy sighed. The woman was incorrigible.

She wanted to go down and get his tea, not stand at the railing with his eyes on her back. And she didn’t want to sit across from him, those same damned eyes melting her when it would only lead to renewed disappointment. She couldn’t trust her legs or her shaky hands to complete the task, and she couldn’t tear herself away from the torture of his presence either.

“How are you doing, Lacy?”

The simple question, spoken with his deeply passionate voice, encouraged her to let down her guard. She took a deep breath, pivoted on her heel and faced him.

“Like I just awoke from a bad nightmare.”

“It’s over, honey.”

His words slipped out easily, naturally. She must have flinched because he fidgeted and looked away. Too late. The butterflies had taken flight.

“I have your sketches and chest in my truck.”

That’s why he came. The impersonal statement made her want to cry, to tell him thanks and please leave now.

“Is that part of the Coconino County sheriff’s duty? Returning Flagstaff Police evidence?” Her sharp tone couldn’t undo the twinge of pain his official visit caused.

Something close to pain furrowed his brow, but when he opened his mouth to respond, Hazel’s footsteps on the wooden stairs stopped him. He continued to study her face; a sorrow of his own reflected in his eyes that she couldn’t understand. Then his mouth tightened, and the man disappeared behind the sheriff.

“One nice hot chai in our best mug.” Hazel beamed as she set it on the table in front of him.

“Thank you.” He didn’t smile, yet his words were friendly enough. “You must be Hazel.”

Her grin turned into what Lacy figured was her flirtatious smile. She wondered how Chance remembered her chief barista. She couldn’t have mentioned her more than once. Had he been that attentive...ages ago?

“Nice to meet you...” Hazel wiped her hand on her apron and offered it.

“Chance Meadowlark.”

Her employee lingered.

“Thanks, Hazel.” Lacy tried to sound cheerful, dismissing her without sounding dismissive.

She couldn’t drag out this surprise meeting any longer than necessary. She’d reached a sorrowful mood she’d hoped would lessen. This torture only promised prolonging her pain.

From the smirk on Hazel’s face, she interpreted the words correctly, but for all the wrong reasons. Bringing the sketches and the chest, seeing him again—he didn’t play fair. The barista nodded and made her way back down the stairs.

He blew across his tea, glanced at her and blew again. His brow furrowed as he stared back into the spicy liquid.

“Why are you here, Chance?”

Without warning, he scooted his chair from the table and stood. “I guess I made a mistake coming here.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Her heart had risen in her chest as he’d stood to his full, sumptuous height.

She needed him to leave.

She needed him to stay.

He raked a hand through his gold-streaked hair, loose around his neck. Her hands twitched to do the same, remembering the night she did.

“I didn’t have to come. I’m the sheriff of Coconino County. I don’t do the Flagstaff Police Department’s bidding.” He circled around the table. “I offered.”

In two strides, he reached her. When he stood so close his warm, damp breath touched her forehead and his hearty, mountain scent took the air from her lungs, her knees sagged.

“I pulled a few strings.” He took an envelope from his pocket. “Your birth certificate.”

She glanced at the paper, peered into his face and looked back at the envelope.

“And results from a DNA test.”

Turmoil bubbled just below the surface. She’d convinced herself she didn’t need to know. And now? “You had my DNA analyzed?”

“He wasn’t your father, Lacy. Hartmut Luschin is named on your birth certificate, and the professor’s DNA is
not
a match with yours.”

It was as if someone had stamped “the end” on a book she’d not been able to finish. At once relieved and unsatisfied, she felt the weight of not knowing lifted, yet not gone. “Is this standard...did you do this because...” She couldn’t focus. Tears blurred her eyes and astonishment muddled her head.

What he presented meant nothing without knowing the reason for his actions. If only his actions spoke more to his feelings. She should thank him, turn away and ask him to leave. But she couldn’t.

She swayed with the effort, and his arms went around her waist.

“I couldn’t let the last time I saw you—be the last time I saw you, Lacy. You said you never wanted to see me again, in so many words, and I should respect that, but I can’t. I’ve been miserable.”

Her knees buckled, but his quickness tightened the hold.

“What about Kitty?”

He brushed the hair from her forehead, wiped the tears from her cheeks and let go of the proof of her heritage as his arms encircled her.

“Kitty’s just a friend. But I had to let her down easy. She was so upset over Clark. If only I’d not been an idiot and had told you sooner how I felt about you the morning after, hell, how I’d felt days before.” His voice grew husky. “I want you, Lacy.” Sultry lips kissed away the tears on her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. So sorry for all of it.”

The kiss on her lips, a peace offering, lightened her heart and stilled the trembling. Her eyes opened to his serious, sorrowful expression.

She clung to him, desire firing every inch of her. “I want you, too, Chance.” She tilted her head, brought her lips to his as he lowered his head and kissed her lightly.

“Will you come back with me?”

“Now?”

“You haven’t met Jenny. And my house seems empty without you.”

She smiled. “I only spent one night.”

“What a night.” He caressed her waist.

His fingers were electric. Her neck tingled with kisses he spread from her collarbone to her chin and another light kiss.

“I want you back in Flagstaff. For good.”

“I...don’t know. I can’t just walk away from the Lacy Latte. From my life... Can I?”

“Your life could be in Flagstaff, with me. We can figure it out.” His kiss, this time deep, breathtaking, made all things seem possible. “I need you. I want you with me.”

Her hands cupped his face. “Oh, Chance, I feel the same. In fact, I...not only want and need you, I—”

“No.” He pulled her closer until not even air could pass between them.

His mouth came hard on hers, and she let him in, at first welcoming then responding until the kiss became so much more. The ache of desire tangled with joy and when he broke the kiss, she couldn’t let him go easily.

“Let me say it first.” He smiled. His copper gaze caressed her face, and settled on a soul-deep stare. “I love you.”

A word about the author...

Brenda spends most of her time writing stories of discovery and love. The rest of her time is spent tending vegetables on the small family farm she shares with her husband, son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. Together, they’ve embraced an age-old lifestyle that has been mostly lost in the United States—multiple generations living under one roof, who share the workload, follow their individual dreams, and reap the benefits of combined talents.

Although she didn’t start out to write romance, she’s found all good stories involve complicated human relationships. She’s also found no matter a person’s age, a new discovery is right around every corner. Whether humorous or serious, straight contemporary or mystery, all her books revolve around those two facts.

Visit Brenda at:

www.brendawhiteside.com

Or on Facebook:

www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9th and 24th of every month at:

http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about writing and prairie life at:

http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.