by Lynsay Sands
Chapter Thirteen
Leigh rifled through the clothes on the rack, but her mind wasn't on what she was doing. She was terribly aware of Lucian standing a couple of feet behind her, patiently waiting. She hadn't considered that he might actually come into the stores with her. He was a man, and men were notorious for hating to shop.
"You'd look good in that. "
She glanced at the shirt she'd been blankly sliding along the rod, her eyes narrowing with doubt. A pale pink jersey, it had a cowl neck and flared sleeves. The cowl neck wasn't a style that looked good on her. She was too busty, and it seemed to emphasize that.
"Try it on," Lucian suggested.
She shook her head. "I don't look good in cowl necks. "
The next top was a plain, V-necked jersey in off-white. Leigh looked for her size, found it, and took it off the rack, then froze as Lucian reached over her and quickly slid aside several of the pale pink cowl tops until he found one in the same size as the blouse she'd just pulled.
"Try it on," he said firmly, and she was feeling rebellion well up within her when he added, "Please. If it doesn't look good, I won't suggest another thing. "
Leigh considered him briefly, then took the top and turned away to head to the dressing room. "Okay. But it won't look good. "
"We'll see," he said, following her.
The blonde in charge of the changing room glanced up from where she bent over a note she was making in a book, and smiled widely as Leigh and Lucian stopped at the counter. "Did you want to try that on?"
When Leigh made a face that spoke of her lack of enthusiasm, Lucian answered for her, "Yes, she does. "
"Okay. " The blonde straightened and stepped around the counter, and Leigh found herself looking up. The girl was an Amazon, almost as tall as Lucian and willowy to boot. Some days Leigh hated being short and rounded. This was one of them.
"If you and your husband would follow me. " The girl smiled again and started to lead the way up the row of changing rooms.
"He's not my husband," Leigh said quickly, and felt the flare of embarrassment flushing her cheeks.
"I'll just wait out here," Lucian announced at almost the same moment, and the changing room girl smiled at him with interest over Leigh's head. She felt like the child between two adults.
Grimacing to herself, she followed the girl to the very last of several empty changing rooms and waited as she stepped in to hang the top on the hook.
"There you are," she said cheerfully, stepping back out. "Take your time. "
Leigh's eyebrows flew up, but the woman didn't notice; she was moving back up the way they'd come. . . toward Lucian. Leigh couldn't help noticing she walked with a hip-rolling animal grace that spoke of a predator approaching its prey.
Wondering why it bothered her, Leigh slid into the changing room and closed the door. She was out of her borrowed t-shirt and into the cowl-necked jersey in no time, then stood frowning at herself with disgust. As she'd known, she didn't wear cowls well.
Sighing, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Lucian stood by the counter at the entrance, his expression bored as he listened to something the changing room girl was saying. He straightened and looked more alive the moment he spotted Leigh.
"See?" she said triumphantly as he moved down the hall to meet her. "I told you I don't -- "
She snapped her mouth closed with surprise as he stepped toward her, reached out to catch the wide cowl neck and tug it down off her shoulders. He fussed with it a bit, then turned her to face the full-length mirror on the wall at the end of the aisle. Leigh blinked at herself in amazement. He'd turned the cowl neck into an off-the-shoulder top that showed off her slender neck while showing her figure to good effect.
She touched the collar with amazement. "But it's not supposed to be worn like this, is it?"
"Oh yes. These can be worn either way, though this looks much better on you. " The changing room girl was suddenly reflected in the mirror beside them, then she turned to Lucian and said, "You have an eye for fashion. "
"I know what I like," he said with a shrug, and turned to head up the aisle. "I'll bring more tops. "
Leigh watched him go, the blonde hurrying after him, then she stepped back into her changing room, closed the door, and stared at herself in the mirror. She never would have thought to wear it like this. She hadn't known you could wear it like this. It looked good, though.
She had barely slid the top off and reached for her own t-shirt when the blonde knocked on the door, then slid it open to hand three more tops in to her.
"Lucian said to bring you these. He's finding more for you. "
"Oh. " Leigh stared at them with surprise, then took the tops and hung them on the hook where she'd just placed the cowl. She supposed she should be surprised at the speed he'd shown in hunting them up, but she wasn't. I know what I like, he'd said, and she was now willing to see if what he liked looked good on her.
Leigh spent the next hour trying on clothes Lucian chose. Tops, blouses, sweaters, pants. . . he sent them in, in groups of three. There were colors she never would have thought to try, even styles she'd always assumed wouldn't look good, but every single thing looked good on her. None of them made her taller or less curvy, but they made the height and figure she did have look their best. The man really did have an eye for fashion.
By the time she finished, her problem was one she wasn't used to. She generally couldn't find things she liked, but now she liked everything and couldn't decide what to choose.
"How are we doing?" the blonde asked as Leigh staggered up the aisle with her arms full of the clothes she'd tried on.
"Good. Too good. I can't decide what to take and what not to take," she admitted wryly as Lucian and the blonde moved to help unburden her.
"Why not take them all?" Lucian asked.
"Oh, I couldn't," Leigh said, glancing at him askance. When her grandfather took her in, he'd been on a pension and refused to touch her inheritance from her parents, insisting it was for college. She'd gone through her teens with little money and always had to be cautious and sparing in her clothing purchases. It was a habit she hadn't broken in the years since then.
"Why?" Lucian asked, seeming truly bewildered. "If it's money, I could -- "
"No, it's not money," Leigh said quickly, and blinked as she realized it was true. She could afford to buy everything here if she liked. Coco's was successful. It did a booming business. She also had investments. She was far from poor and could easily afford the clothes. It was just her conscience and natural caution holding her back.
Raising her chin, she nodded and opened her purse to grab her credit card. "Fine. I want it all. "
"How are you feeling?" Lucian asked later, as he led her out of the store, both of them laden with bags.
"Er. . . " She shook her head, trembly and faint as she considered what she'd spent, but she wasn't going to tell him that. It was silly, really.
"You've gone pale," Lucian announced with a frown, then glanced around. "Here, sit down. "
Leigh let him lead her to a table in the food court and settled in one of the chairs with a sigh.
"I put a cooler in the car earlier," Lucian announced abruptly as he set her purchases on the empty chairs of the four chair table, then settled in the seat across from her. "After you've rested for a minute, I think we should go out and have a nip. "
Leigh was slow to catch on to what he was talking about, and once she did, gave a little laugh. "That isn't the problem. I'm just feeling a little light-headed over spending so much in one shot. I've never done that before. "
"Hmm," Lucian said slowly, but asked, "How's your stomach? Are you experiencing any kind of cramping, or almost an acidic biting sensation?"
Leigh blinked. "Well, yes. . . but. . . "
He nodded as if it was what he'd expected. "We'll make a quick nip out. It will only take a minute. Besides, this way we can put
the bags in the car so we don't have to carry them around. "
"But I only fed just before we left," she protested. "That was only an hour or so ago. "
"More than two hours ago," Lucian corrected with a glance at his watch. "And it's a sunny day, you were exposed to the sun for about twenty minutes in the car on the way here, then on the walk across the parking lot. And, as I told you, for the next little while you'll need to feed often. "
Leigh frowned, then asked, "Do all new turns have to feed this often?"
Lucian shrugged. "It's different for different people. It just depends on the individual. "
Her frown deepened. "How often will I have to feed once the turning is done?"
He considered the question, then shrugged again. "That differs between people, too. Some need to feed every four hours or so, some can have two or three bags when they wake up and not need to feed again until just before they retire for the night. "Of course, those who work jobs where they have to be up and about in the daylight tend to need to feed more. "
Leigh smiled faintly. "Then I guess I should be glad I've always been a night owl and like to work the night shift. "
Lucian peered at her curiously. "How did you end up owning a bar?"
She smiled faintly at his expression. Most men were surprised she owned it. For some reason, people expected a bar owner to be male. . . or a crusty old broad with pink hair. She had no idea why.
"Leigh?"
"Oh, sorry," she murmured, cleared her throat, opened her mouth to answer his question, then hesitated, unsure where to start. "It's kind of a long story. "
"In that case. . . " He stood up and collected his half of the bags again. "Let's go put these in the car, grab a bag, then go to a restaurant for some lunch. "
"Lunch?" she asked with surprise as she stood to gather half of the purchases. "It's too early for lunch. "
"Brunch, then," Lucian said with a shrug. "I'm hungry. "
"I thought you didn't eat," she said with amusement as she walked with him out of the mall.
Lucian shrugged and said, "Things change. "
"I guess they do," she agreed wryly, thinking how much her own life had changed in the last few days.
Lucian carried the tray carefully, his nose twitching as he inhaled the scent of the cappuccinos and hot cinnamon buns Leigh had assured him were good. They'd put her purchases in the trunk, sat in the car while Leigh had two bags of blood, then returned to the mall.
Lucian had tried to steer her to a restaurant, but she convinced him they could go to one for a late lunch later if they had a cappuccino and sticky bun now. She'd assured him they were yummy, and he had to admit the bun smelled good, but the cappuccino smelled just like coffee to him, though it was topped with some foamy substance.
"How's this?"
Lucian glanced up to see Leigh had chosen a table amidst a selection of empty ones. They could talk there without anyone overhearing them. He nodded. "Fine. "
"Good?" Leigh asked after he'd taken his first bite of the bun.
Lucian nodded. "You were right. "
She beamed at the compliment, small though it had been, and he decided that she mustn't have heard many in her life to be so pleased. But then, she'd been in an abusive relationship, Lucian reminded himself. Compliments would have been sparse in her marriage. He'd have to be sure to give her lots of compliments.
Swallowing the bite of bun, he prodded, "So? The bar?"
Leigh nearly choked on her own bun, then swallowed and chuckled. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. "
"Why?"
"To explain it I have to touch on. . . " She paused and frowned, then simply said, "When I left Kenny, my husband, I had to hide. "
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"I -- Kenny had always said that if I ran away he'd find me and kill me. " Leigh shrugged. "Looking back, I don't know if he really would have or not, but I believed it at the time. It's why I stayed in the marriage as long as I did. . . or maybe I just wasn't ready to be on my own. "
Lucian opened his mouth to speak, but she waved him to silence.
"Don't. Let me just tell it. You can speak after. "
When he nodded, she relaxed and continued, "Anyway, it took three years to finally make me leave. I woke up in the hospital that last time with a broken arm, several cracked ribs, and a concussion. Kenny was there, going on about how he was sorry, he loved me, and if I just wouldn't make him so angry he wouldn't have to hurt me. " She grimaced. "Then the police walked in and asked him to leave so they could talk to me.
"Kenny leaned over to hug me and whispered in my ear that I'd tripped over a shoe and fallen down the stairs, and it was all I remembered. . . or else. "
"Bastard," Lucian muttered.
"That's pretty much what I was thinking at the time," Leigh said with a shrug, then continued, "Before he straightened, I slipped a hand in his suit coat pocket and took his wallet. I slid it under the blankets as he turned away. Then I told the police exactly what he told me to say. "
"Surely, they didn't believe it," he protested.
"No," Leigh admitted. "I don't think they did, but what could they do?"
Lucian frowned, thinking he'd have taken the man out and beaten the truth out of him.
"I pretended to go to sleep to make them leave, continued pretending when Kenny came back in so he'd go, too, then the minute I heard the door close behind him, I got up, got dressed, and walked out. There was an ATM in the lobby, and I withdrew the limit, then handed the wallet in at the information desk and said I'd found it in the elevator. Then I walked out the front doors and got into one of the row of taxis waiting in front of the hospital. I took it to the bus station. " She paused to take a drink of her coffee, then said, "There were three buses leaving within fifteen minutes when I got there. I caught the one to Kansas City. "
"Why Kansas City?" Lucian asked.
Leigh shrugged. "Kenny always scorned anything to do with Kansas, for some reason. I don't know why. I don't think he'd ever even been there, but he considered it the hayseed capital of the world, so that's where I went. "
Lucian nodded. It was as good a reason as any.
"I lived under an alias, working under the table to avoid having to give details, always afraid Kenny would find me and make good on his threat. I spent two years looking over my shoulder. "
"Would he have really followed you?" Lucian asked. "Surely he had a job?"
"Oh yes, Kenny landed an excellent job right out of college. He was an investment banker. As for his following me. . . He was a sick man, possessive, controlling, jealous. He once told me if I ever left him, he'd hire a private investigator to hunt me down, then I'd hear a knock on the door one night and open it to find him there. . . "
Leigh grimaced. "Actually, I probably would have worried less if I'd thought he'd try to hunt me down himself. With the threat of a P. I. possibly being on my tail, I was worried that they'd be able to track me by my Social Security number, so I was afraid to use it. I was restricted to working jobs under the table for low pay and no benefits. "
"It must have been a struggle," Lucian said quietly, wondering where she'd found the strength to live like that.
Leigh just shrugged. "I got by. It got easier when I landed a job at Coco's. Earl -- the owner then," she explained, "he was an ex-cop with a heart of gold. "
She smiled. "I swear, he seemed to hire only the walking wounded of the world. A lot of his employees were men starting over and women fresh from abusive relationships. He didn't bat an eye when I said I'd rather work under the table. I think he took one look at me and knew I was running from something. Life got a little easier after I started working there, and I relaxed a little.
"I'd been working there for a little less than a year when Kenny's private investigator finally caught up to me. "
Lucian stiffened, and she smiled. "It's okay. I was terrified at first when he told me who he was
, but then he said I was safe. Kenny was dead. It seems without me around to use as a punching bag, he'd had to find another outlet for his temper. He'd finally chosen the wrong person to punch. He died when his head bounced off the corner of a table in a bar during a brawl. "
Lucian thought it served the man right, but Leigh paused and shook her head. "I didn't know what to say. I never wished Kenny dead, I just wanted him to leave me alone. "
"If your husband was dead, why was the private detective there?" Lucian asked.
"That's what I asked," Leigh said wryly. "It seems it was a recent death. The private detective had finally traced me to Kansas City the day before. I was living under an assumed name, though, so he apparently took pictures of me and e-mailed them back to Massachusetts to be shown to Kenny, but when he called that morning to find out if Kenny had verified it was me, his partner said Kenny hadn't got the chance to see the photos. He was dead. "
"So you were a widow. "
"A rich widow," Leigh said dryly. "That was the detective's next bit of news. Kenny had done really well while I was gone, both in investments and business. He was made a junior partner in his company. His father had also died the year before and left him a hefty inheritance. "
"And that's how you bought Coco's," Lucian said with a smile.
Leigh nodded, but glanced down. "Coco's is the only reason I took the money. "
Lucian frowned. "I don't understand. "
Leigh shrugged. "I liked my life. I liked working at the restaurant, liked the people. . . There was nothing for me to go back to Massachusetts for. . . except the money. And the very fact that it was Kenny's tainted it for me whether it was legally mine or not. But after the private investigator left, Earl came around the bar, took my arm and led me to his office. He'd heard every word the detective had said and he could tell I didn't want the money. " She grinned. "Earl was really good at reading people. "
"He convinced you to take the money," Lucian murmured.
"Yes. Earl wanted to retire to California to be closer to his daughter, but he didn't want to sell unless he was sure whoever bought it would keep on everyone already working there. He was as loyal to us as we all were to him, you see. "
Leigh shrugged. "I was on a train back to Massachusetts the next day. Six months after that I was the proud owner of Coco' s. " She grinned. "And I've lived happily ever after since then. . . until Donny stopped me on the street the other night. "
Lucian stared silently, myriad emotions flowing through him. She'd lost so much in her short life, struggled to be free from abuse and gain independence, probably half-starved during those two years she'd been on the run, but she'd survived and even flourished. However, Leigh had also cut herself off from people, much as he'd done after the death of his wife and children.
He had his work cut out for him, Lucian realized, and felt his heart sink. He'd never been a very patient person. All he wanted to do right then was take her home and make love to her, and coddle and protect her, make sure she never had another hard moment in her life. Leigh wouldn't take to that well, he knew. She'd fought too hard for her independence to give it up easily. And she wouldn't give her trust easily, he was sure.
"That's it," Leigh said lightly. "Now you know everything about me. "
Not everything, Lucian thought. Not what she tasted like, not how she would fit in his arms, not how her hair would feel in his hands, or her skin sliding against his. . .
"I guess our next stop should be a drugstore. "
Lucian blinked his thoughts away to see that Leigh had her list out and was going over it.
"I need shampoo, toothpaste, stuff like that, and you need razors," Leigh reminded him.
"Yes," he agreed. Glancing down, he saw that he'd finished his cappuccino and eaten his cinnamon bun without realizing it while she'd talked. He forced himself to his feet. "I wouldn't mind hitting a bookstore either. "
Leigh looked surprised. "With all those books in Marguerite's library?"
"I've read most of them," he said with a shrug as she stood, too.
Leigh hesitated, then offered, "If you tell me what razor blades you need, I can pick them up for you. That way you can go to the bookstore while I go to the drugstore. "
"Actually," Lucian said, "I think I'll just stop at home on the way back to Marguerite's and pick up my own razor. Some clothing, too. " He grimaced. "Like you, I've been borrowing clothes, and it would be nice to wear some of my own stuff. "
Leigh blinked in surprise. "You live around here, too?"
Lucian nodded.
"Then why are we at Marguerite's?"
"The IV was there," he said, rather than admit he'd originally intended on dumping her on his sister-in-law. "And now Julius needs looking after. "
"Oh. Yes. " She nodded. "Well, why don't you hit the bookstore while I do the drugstore, then we can meet up here again afterward. "
Lucian hesitated. He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone if it was possible Morgan had reached the city. On the other hand, Morgan could hardly know they were at the mall. Besides, if everything had gone as planned, Mortimer and Bricker would have been at the airport to meet Morgan's plane.
"I'd really rather shop at the drugstore on my own," Leigh said quietly when he still hesitated. "There are some personal items I'd like to get. "
Lucian forced himself to relax and nodded in acquiescence. "Okay, but go straight there and straight back and don't leave the mall without me. "
Leigh grinned and sprang to her feet. "Meet here in half an hour, okay?"
She didn't wait for an answer, but swept off. Lucian felt a twinge of anxiety as she disappeared into the crowd, but tried to ignore it. Morgan and Donny couldn't be here at this mall. She would be fine, he assured himself. Still, he decided he'd get his business done quickly to be sure to be back before the half hour was up.
Turning away from the table, he set off at a quick clip. The bookstore was, of course, at the opposite end of the mall, but he covered the area quickly. He had nearly reached the store when he thought of calling Bastien. He'd feel better if he could find out for sure that Mortimer and Bricker had managed to get to the airport before Morgan's flight landed. Unfortunately, he didn't have his cell phone to make the call. It was back at the house, on the dresser with a dead battery. He looked for pay phones then, but didn't pass any before reaching the bookstore.
Anxious and impatient to be done with the task and get to a phone, Lucian decided he needed help and enlisted the aid of the first worker he came across -- a tall, skinny kid who couldn't have been more than twenty and who bore a tag stating his name was Carl.
"Yes, sir?" Carl asked when he stopped him. "Can I help you?"
"Yes," Lucian said tersely. "I need books. "
Carl's mouth tipped with amusement. "That's what we sell. What kind?"
Lucian hesitated, suddenly embarrassed, then recalled his boast to Rachel that he'd lived too long to be afraid of anyone or anything. Time to prove that. Straightening his shoulders, he said, "Books on how to get girls. "
Carl's eyebrows flew up.
Lucian shifted uncomfortably under the kid's suddenly sharp inspection, feeling like an idiot, but this seemed the smartest route to him. If he didn't know something, he bought a book on it. He didn't know how to make Leigh fall in love with him, so he'd get a book on it. A primer on how to get the girl of your dreams. It made perfect sense to him and he thought it was a good idea. . . until he saw the excitement suddenly enter Carl's face and the wide grin that split his lips. A twinge of concern suddenly bloomed in him.
"Oh man! Have I got some books for you. Follow me. "
It was as the young man turned away that Lucian spotted the cell phone clipped to his belt. He promptly opened his mouth to ask to use the phone, then caught back the question and simply slipped into the clerk's mind to take control, making Carl give him the phone and then go hunt up the books for him while he made his call.
>
Without Marguerite's handy speed dial or his own list of contacts, he wasn't able to call Bastien. But he knew the number to Mortimer's cell phone by heart after working with the man for decades, so he called him. Relief coursed through him when the other man answered on the second ring.
"Did you get Morgan?" he asked abruptly, not bothering with a greeting.
"Hello to you, too, Lucian," Mortimer chuckled, then answered the question. "No. I'm afraid not. We got to the airport half an hour before the plane arrived and watched every single person leave the plane, but neither Morgan nor Donny were on it. We think the tickets might have been a red herring to throw us off the track. "
Lucian let his breath out slowly as he concentrated on the tone of Mortimer's voice. "You don't sound too sure about that. What's happened?"
"There were a couple of large withdrawals of cash on Stobie's bank account," Mortimer admitted.
Lucian growled under his breath. With cash, Morgan would be harder to track. There might not be recorded transactions at gas stations or restaurants, and tickets could be bought for cash. Morgan could give them the slip. . . or could sneak up on them without warning. Lucian's instincts were still telling him that the man had some interest in Leigh, and Rachel's comments that Morgan hadn't been able to fully control Leigh strengthened his belief that the man might come after her. Lucian found Leigh fascinating himself, but knew even if she weren't his life mate, he would have been fascinated by anyone he couldn't control.
"Where are you?" he finally asked.
"Watching your house," Mortimer answered. "If he is headed here, we'll be ready for him. Otherwise, we have to wait until he charges something again, and this is as good a place to wait as any. "
Lucian nodded and was about to speak again when he saw the clerk, Carl, staggering toward him carrying a stack of books. His eyes widened incredulously at the sheer volume of titles the lad had found.
"Lucian? Are you still there?" Mortimer asked, and he was recalled to the phone.
"Yes, yes," he muttered with distraction. "I'll be at the house soon. "
He snapped the phone closed without saying good-bye and turned his attention to the books Carl had brought him.
