by Brenda Novak
“No, but…” Her heart rate still hadn’t returned to normal. “That’s so strange. You don’t have any idea who it was?”
“None.”
“When was this?”
He rubbed a hand over the razor stubble on his chin. “Twenty minutes ago. Just long enough for me to drive over here. Everything looked so peaceful when I arrived, I thought it had to be somebody’s idea of a joke to scare me like that. So I was checking things out, trying to see if there was any reason to worry.”
Claire had been so exhausted she hadn’t even taken off her makeup, but she was too uneasy to be sleepy now. “Why would anyone crank-call you about me?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? It could’ve been someone who heard about what happened at your mother’s studio and thought it would be funny to send me on a fool’s errand.”
Or someone who’d heard they were seeing each other and wanted to determine whether he cared enough to come to her rescue. She wouldn’t put that past a couple of the women who talked about him incessantly.
That was the extent of it, she told herself, but then she remembered the call she’d received from the person who’d asked if she’d hired a P.I. She’d forgotten to tell Isaac about that. Life had been such a whirlwind since then she’d scarcely thought of it herself.
“That call must have come from Les,” Isaac agreed when Claire had described the brief conversation. “Besides you and me, no one else knows I told him I was a P.I.”
Had he called Isaac, too?
Either way, the idea of a raspy-voiced caller foretelling her doom sent chills down her spine, especially after that incident on the Fourth of July. “Sorry someone put you to so much trouble,” she said. “That’s a long drive in the middle of the night, especially for nothing.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad it was for nothing.” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he leaned against the door frame. “So…did you have fun with your date tonight?”
She hadn’t expected him to confront her about Owen. She’d thought the fact that she was dating other men would be one of those things they wouldn’t talk about, even if they did continue to see each other. He didn’t want to commit to a relationship, but he didn’t want to lose her, either. That pretty much left ignoring the other men in her life as his only option. “It was okay.”
His gaze shifted toward her bedroom. “Is he gone?”
“What difference would it make to you even if he wasn’t?” she countered.
He studied her carefully. “I’m not very good at sharing.”
“We’re just friends, remember?”
“I remember, but that doesn’t seem to help.”
“Fine, he’s gone.”
“Good.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “So what happened after I left?”
“We danced.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”
He scowled as if he didn’t want to ask his next question but couldn’t resist. “Did he kiss you?”
Scowling right back at him, she said, “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know.”
One eyebrow shot up. “A simple ‘no’ would be nice. Then maybe I could stop the damn reel of the two of you together that keeps playing in my head.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Okay, if you want to talk about bad images—have you ever been with my sister?”
Even without the lights on, she could see the curl of his lip. “What?”
The answer he had yet to give frightened her so much she had to take a deep breath. “Leanne. Have you ever slept with her?”
“Hell, no! I’ve never even looked at her. God, what do you think I am?”
“I think that’s clear.”
“No, it’s not. You don’t know me if you believe I’d sleep with your sister. Why would you even ask me that?”
Relief finally eased the fear that’d kept her on edge ever since Leanne had shown up in her salon, pretending to have more intimate knowledge of Isaac than she did. “For the same reason you asked me about Owen.”
He glared at her. “You’re jealous.”
“Of course I’m jealous! I’ve loved you for ten years!” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She hadn’t even realized she was going to say them.
Her confession hung in the air like the scent of gunpowder. She’d probably just shot to hell any chance she had of being with him. She’d gone so far she couldn’t even salvage her pride. This was how she’d ruined their relationship the last time—by letting him mean too much.
Maybe it was for the best. Maybe this would put a decisive end to whatever was starting between them again. He’d make sure of it. Then she wouldn’t have to fight her natural inclinations any longer.
She held her breath, expecting him to walk out without another word, or to explain, as he’d explained before, that he didn’t reciprocate those feelings.
Instead, he stepped close and lifted her chin with one finger. “I thought you were still in love with David.”
Of course he’d call her on that. But there was no gloating in his voice. It was an earnest question. “I am,” she whispered. “Don’t listen to me.”
When he tilted his head to study her, she knew she’d given herself away. “I mean nothing to you?” he asked.
“You’re good in bed. That’s all. Now get out of here.” She tried to shove him toward the door, but he resisted.
“You could be pregnant with my baby.” Considering the time of the month, it wasn’t likely, but it was possible. They hadn’t used any birth control that first time. She’d thought of the chance she might be carrying his child often throughout the day, let her heart curl around it almost as a secret wish. But his remark came out of nowhere, as if it had escaped from him just like what she’d said a moment earlier.
Her hand automatically went to her stomach. “Does that scare the hell out of you or what?” She gave an awkward laugh. In one way, being a single mother frightened her. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that it would only complicate and strengthen what she felt for Isaac. But she was ready for the next stage of life, ready to love and cherish again, and nothing was more lovable than a baby. Especially Isaac’s baby. Somehow it seemed…right.
He stared down at her. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
She braced herself in case he mentioned abortion. She wouldn’t do it. She’d take the baby and run away if she had to, but she wouldn’t terminate the pregnancy. “And…”
“It scares the hell out of me.”
“No surprise there.”
Lowering his head, he kissed her tenderly. “But I kind of like the idea.”
A languid, warm feeling began to overcome the butterflies in her stomach as she melted into him. “You’re saying you want a baby?”
Raising his head, he cupped her face. “I’m saying I want you. Do you think we could make it—be happy together—if we tried?”
It wasn’t “I love you,” but it was close. In any event, he was the one who had to believe they could survive the demons of his past; he was the one who had to make the commitment to conquer those doubts and fears. “Maybe we should just take it one day at a time,” she said.
“That sounds good. But I don’t want you seeing anyone else.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Then you can’t see anyone else, either.”
“As long as you give me what I want whenever I want it, I won’t have to,” he teased, and swept her into his arms.
He was about to carry her to the bedroom, but she stopped him. “Let’s go to your place.”
He hesitated. “Any particular reason?”
“The phone call you got would be one. If there’s any danger here, we wouldn’t be in harm’s way. Leanne living so close would be another. And I have two days off…?.”
“I like the third reason.” He reversed direction. But there was one thing Claire had left out. This was still David’s house. There was no question that she loved Isaac—as she’d never loved anyone else—but she’d loved Davi
d in a unique way, too. And Isaac hadn’t proven he could take the place of her husband. Not quite yet.
Isaac was cooking breakfast again. Claire could smell it.
“You’re not going to feed me every time I stay over, are you?” she called out, but she wasn’t serious. Oddly enough, she was hungry—perhaps because it was past noon.
“That’s the price of my stud services,” he called back.
“So now you think you’re good enough to charge?”
“I didn’t hear any complaints last night.”
Smiling at the thought that only a crazy woman would complain about the kind of pleasure he’d given her, she buried her face in his pillow.
“Ready for breakfast?” he called a moment later.
Claire was so hopeful and happy she could hardly stand it. And that frightened her. Could she count on Isaac, when the entire town would tell her no? When he had such scars from his childhood? When he’d hurt her once already?
It could be that she was setting herself up for another fall.
“Yeah, just a sec.” She crawled out of bed and pulled on the T-shirt he’d taken off last night. Before she could reach the kitchen, however, the phone rang, and Isaac answered. He sounded congenial at first, but then his voice went hard.
“Who is it?” she asked, coming up behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Your sister.”
Anxiety bit deep. Was it all going bad so soon? “Why is she calling?”
“We’ll be right there,” he said into the phone, and hung up.
“Isaac?”
When he turned to face her, he put his hands on her shoulders as if what he had to say wouldn’t be easy to hear. “Someone broke into your house last night, Claire.”
“What?” She couldn’t even imagine such a thing. She’d been in her bedroom as late as two—Isaac had been with her the last few minutes—which meant it could have happened shortly after they left. Once the sun came up would be far riskier and therefore unlikely.
“They kicked in the back door and tossed the place.”
Claire had experienced a little foreboding but only because she felt guilty for finding happiness in Isaac’s arms. She’d never expected this. “Leanne found it that way, or someone called her or—”
“She said she went over to see how you were doing. When she couldn’t rouse you at the front door, she went around to the back and saw the damage.”
Claire made a mental list of the kinds of possessions typically stolen from residences. She had a computer, a flat-screen TV and one painting of her mother’s that she wouldn’t want to lose, but other than her furniture, there wasn’t much someone would want. She certainly didn’t have any drugs or cash or jewelry. “What’d they take?”
He set the pans he’d been using to one side and turned off the stove. “That’s what we’re going over to find out.”
When Isaac parked in Claire’s drive, he glanced over at her, saw how rigidly she was sitting and wished he could take the blow for her. But there was nothing he could do. She got out of the car before he could even say anything.
Sheriff King had beaten them to the house and, apparently, already viewed the damage. He was standing on the porch, using his radio. His nostrils flared when he saw them together. No doubt he’d have a word with Claire later, warning her about the company she was keeping, but he was too preoccupied, and too sensitive to what Claire was about to see, to make a fuss at this point. He greeted her with a hug but ignored Isaac.
“If you want to wait a minute, I’ll walk through it with you,” Myles told her, but the person he was talking to had just come back on the radio, and she motioned for him to go ahead.
Isaac followed her inside—and instantly wanted to find the man who’d done this and teach him a lesson. There was so much damage. Whoever it was hadn’t stolen her TV, they’d busted it, along with her computer and almost everything else she owned, whether it had value or not. The mirrors were cracked, her bedding and much of her clothing had been slashed, the pictures torn from the walls. Even her wedding album and her mother’s painting had been destroyed. Whoever had done this had paid special attention to the things that would matter most to her.
Why? The destruction was such a senseless waste. Isaac couldn’t understand risking prison for the sake of vandalism. As he peered into room after room, he also wondered how she’d replace all this stuff on a hairdresser’s salary. He hoped she had insurance because he knew the money she’d inherited from her grandparents had all been spent on cosmetology school, building her house and starting her own business.
Some of the things she’d lost couldn’t be replaced. She mumbled that Tug and Roni and David’s parents had some of her wedding pictures, but there were many they wouldn’t have, that no one would have, and that had to hurt.
He watched her dash a hand across her cheeks when she spotted several photographs floating in the tub. That someone had wanted to hurt her to this degree, for no apparent reason, created such rage he could hardly stay inside, looking at it all.
Other than wiping away silent tears, she didn’t react. She seemed stunned as she went from one wrecked item to the next.
Leanne watched the proceedings from her wheelchair in the living room. She couldn’t follow. Too much broken glass, electronic components, picture frames and other decorations littered the floor.
“Who would do something like this?” Claire asked as they left her bedroom and went back to the living room.
Isaac didn’t have an answer. As far as he knew, no one disliked her or had any reason to be angry with her, except maybe Rusty. Rusty wasn’t happy she’d spurned him. But would he go this far? Would he take that kind of risk?
In the background, Isaac could hear Myles’s clipped voice as he spoke with some forensic techs. He wanted them to come over and help out with fingerprinting. He sounded almost as upset as Isaac was.
Leanne had murmured a few words of sympathy when they first walked in. “I’m so sorry, Claire…?. I can’t believe this…?. I’m just glad you weren’t here and that you’re okay.” But she’d been silent ever since. When Isaac glanced over at her, their eyes met and for the briefest second, he saw a strange look on her face.
It was gone as quickly as it had appeared—so fast he wasn’t sure he’d seen it at all. But he got the uncomfortable impression she was taking some sort of pleasure in her sister’s pain, and that made him even angrier.
He’d known from when he and Claire were together years before that Leanne had problems. Claire always made excuses for her, tried to keep the peace and help her be happy, but Leanne wasn’t easy to get along with. In Isaac’s mind there was no question that jealousy played a part in their relationship. He wondered just how big a part.
Was Leanne jealous enough to do this?
He hoped not. He didn’t want that nasty surprise waiting for Claire when they reached the truth—because they would reach the truth. Whoever did this would be exposed and punished if Isaac had to spend every dime he owned to see it happen.
“I mean…this is so…destructive.” Claire’s voice cracked as she spoke but, for the most part, she retained a tight hold on her emotions. “Whoever did this has to hate me.”
Not necessarily. Was something else at play? Something that had been at play for fifteen years but only cropped up whenever a certain person felt threatened? “Where’d you put the files?” he asked.
She’d been so shocked by this seemingly random attack, she hadn’t connected it to her mother’s case files. When she did, her eyes widened. “You don’t think—”
“The timing is certainly suspect,” he said.
“Of course. Oh, God…” She hurried to the kitchen and gestured at the kitchen table, which was lying on its side. “They were here.”
And now they were gone. Every last interview, every last sheet of paper. “Someone doesn’t like the fact that you’re looking into your mother’s disappearance.”
“But I’ve already read everyth
ing. What could this person—or persons—hope to gain by taking the files now?”
“Maybe they didn’t know where they were before or they would’ve taken them sooner. They’re not worth as much anymore, but at least they know what you know, whether or not you’re a threat.”
“What are you saying?” Leanne had managed to roll over various objects in order to reach the kitchen. “You think this has something to do with our mother?”
Isaac turned to face her. “Don’t you?”
That strange look entered her eyes again. “Not really. Why does everything have to relate to that? She went missing fifteen years ago, for crying out loud. For all we know, this could’ve been done by one of your many lovers. Or some other woman who’s had her eye on you for a long time and is envious that you’re sleeping with my sister.”
“You mean someone who calls me night and day even though I don’t respond?” he retorted.
Claire whirled around to see what was going on between them, but his words had already had the intended effect. Leanne seemed to think better of whatever attack she’d been planning to launch. Clamping her mouth shut, she rolled out of the house.
A moment later, they could see her through the kitchen window crossing the road.
“What happened?” Claire asked, her normally smooth forehead furrowed.
Since Leanne had seen him bringing Claire home on Wednesday morning, she’d called him probably ten times. Over the years, she’d made other overtures. But Isaac didn’t want to tell Claire, not after she’d asked him earlier whether or not he’d ever been with her sister.
“She’s conflicted when it comes to you. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
He could tell Claire didn’t want to think about it. “She’s her own worst enemy, but…she’s not as bad as she seems.”
Could they be sure about that? No. Especially now. “Just know that you can’t trust her,” he said, and left it at that because Myles had come into the house.
“Do you have any idea who might’ve done this?” he asked.
Claire shook her head. “None.”
“Is anything missing?”
