by Unknown
Chloe Applegate
Coincidences
Book One
Karen A. Nichols
Copyright 2011 by Karen A. Nichols
1st Edition
Published by Karen Nichols. Copyright, Karen Nichols. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
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Chapter One
The lights shone brightly throughout the Seattle Center. Early September rain drizzled around the massive convention center and onto the numerous panels of thick, glittering glass. A pair of deep blue clad arms crossed casually over his chest, one shoulder leaning against a thick column of the balcony.
Simon Oliver wasn’t entirely sure how he got conned into attending the charity function. His secretary had handed him a ticket and told him to have fun. His partner was here somewhere with his wife, who supported the charity. He’d rather be working on his schedules and budgets. While the costumes were interesting to watch, he wasn’t much into fantasy.
He watched the throngs of people in as many varied costumes as there were people. The constant flashing of the cameras barely registered until they began sparkling off a wayward fairy. He was positive that every inch of her glittered. The scarves of her skirt stopped just short of her knees in various points and in shimmering colors that were damn near invisible.
The top of her dress had small, round sleeves and a bodice that was bound together with a pearlescent ribbon. It definitely performed its duty of push up and separate, and even those were twinkling with glitter.
She carried one of the booklets given out at the door, very slim fingers turning the pages slowly as she walked along the wide corridors, looking up and appraising the art work with a critical tilt of her head, red hair sleek and shimmering beneath the lights. Wings half as large as she was tall, fluttered and glittered, bouncing slightly with each step she took.
While his gaze wandered to the more elaborate costumes, something in the glittering kept drawing his attention back. Part of him would rather be crunching numbers and researching but another part of him had accepted the invitation to the fund raiser from his partner’s wife. Not that he was into costumes. He’d had ignored the grimace from his secretary when he borrowed his brother’s uniform at the last minute, grateful they were the same size.
“You need to learn to relax,” Carolyn had told him with a shake of her head.
“You need to…secretary,” was his only response, ignoring her laughter while he thanked his brother and carried the uniform into his office.
Slim fingers held the booklet, absently gazing, reading and slowly walking when the oddest warmth began between her shoulder blades. Glitter sparkled in the intricate French braid she had woven earlier in the evening as she lifted her head, tilted it slightly to try and understand the feeling and then she gazed upward. A bright smile tipped her full lips as she caught the dark eyes of a man watching her from above.
Simon felt an unaccustomed fire strike his face when very slim fingers left the booklet she was reading through to wiggle an innocent hello to him from below. Like a child caught in the act of something he’d been told not to do, his shoulders straightened stiffly and his back went against the pillar beside him, his gaze immediately off the brilliant smile and on anything else he could find.
Chloe drifted along the corridors, past art that she was positive should never have been permitted into the public eye. A small frown on her face while she walked, admiring the various costumes around her. She wandered up the curving ramp to the second story, seeking out the restroom with a long sigh.
Simon Oliver watched the redhead exit the restroom about twenty five feet from him, her hands fumbling with something behind her. It was an odd maneuver that had her turning several times and looking for all the world like a puppy chasing its tail. Finally she came to a stop, hands up and on the frame of the door, her head back and breath drawn in deeply.
“Whoa,” Chloe exhaled slowly, her head swiveling to land on the man watching her. “Too much of that will surely land you wrong end up.”
It was impossible to miss the sparkle in every step she took in his direction; even more impossible to miss the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, focused and intent on her destination. He straightened up slowly, uncertain at the small scowl creasing the full pout.
“Would you help me, please?” Came the request that sounded much more like an instruction. She came to a stop less than a foot from him and turned smartly, fluttering wings barely missing slapping him in the face.
“What…?” Simon moved quickly, pulling his head up and out of the way at the last minute to avoid the heavy gossamer wings. His gaze swept the figure, very aware of the freckles and glitter dotting every inch of bare skin.
“I was never any good at things that go round in circles, makes me incredibly dizzy,” she explained, her chin tilted over her shoulder, blue eyes aimed down to her lower back. Slender fingers gestured vaguely. “There’s a snap at the bottom. It came free when I was…well, you know, in the restroom. And it feels incredibly unbalanced, like I’m losing my wings and…I had no idea they’d be this weighty when I built them…oh, perfect, thank you so very much.” There was a sweet lilt to her voice, a sing-song tone that had him staring like a teenager.
Simon straightened as she turned to face him, an amazingly brilliant smile lighting her face. For the first time, his gaze quickly swept the slender figure, from sparkling glass slippers to the small tiara nestled in the silken red hair.
“Chloe Applegate,” she announced with a flourish, her palm out politely. She liked the way a shock of dark hair fell over one of his brown eyes. Something he scarcely noticed she thought, taking in the high cheeks and light dusting of stubble over his face.
“Simon,” he responded, dragged from his inventory of the woman standing before him, his larger hand engulfing hers in a warm greeting. “My pleasure.”
“Oh…I’m so very sorry,” a small frown creased her lips. “Am I disturbing you while you’re working? I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble, but I am most grateful for your help with the wings. Sometimes it’s a little troublesome when you select a costume that takes octopus arms to makes things remain where you want them to be.”
“Working?” For a moment, Simon was lost in the rambling lilt in her voice.
“On duty,” she rephrased quietly. “Though I honestly can’t think there’s much in the way of problems at a charity auction.”
“Ahhh…no, for
the most part, it’s a fairly quiet crowd,” he agreed, deciding that being a police officer for the night would suit his mood.
“I think it’s the music,” Chloe confided with a firm nod. “It’s impossible to feel violent when you’re listening to Josh Groban singing. He has an amazing voice,” she declared with a small sigh. She set the booklet she had been carrying on the large square against the railing. “Have you been around to view the exhibits? Some of them are amazingly beautiful,” the small nose wrinkled in confidence the next minute. “Others…well, I’ve seen better art in kindergarten classes.”
“Then I guess I haven’t missed much.” He wasn’t aware of the smile tilting his lips.
Chloe turned to face the railing, leaning her arms along the chilled stainless steel. He had a nice voice, she decided as she watched the people. “You can see everything from up here. That must be why they put you here, I suppose. But it must be terribly tedious,” she stated, turning her face up to peer into a pair of dark eyes that crinkled at the corners.
“Just part of the job,” he responded vaguely, studying the slightly upturned nose and high cheeks, all tinted unerringly with glitter.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” a bright smile lit up her face, one finger raised. “Hold that thought,” she announced, turning swiftly and sweeping down the ramp at a pace that sent the wings fluttering madly behind her.
He swore he saw her feet leave the ground, a slight growl leaving his throat when he glanced down and discovered his hands now sparkled. No one below noticed the heavy thud of booted feet heading into the restroom, questioning his sanity and wondering how he was going to explain to his brother how glitter got all over his uniform.
Simon Oliver felt another sliver of his sanity slipping from his grasp when he came out of the restroom, growling for only a moment at the glitter that would not go away. Then his eyes caught on the very long legs and upturned wiggling behind of the fairy that had been flying around in his thoughts. She was in the process of tugging another of the carefully placed concrete colored squares toward the railing where they had been standing.
“There!” She announced triumphantly, spinning precariously on two-inch heels and meeting his approach with another of those mind boggling smiles.
Simon followed the dramatic thrust of her palms to the other concrete square, the top now holding a large platter of food and two frosty bottles of water.
“You can easily watch the crowd and enjoy a little of the food. They have an exceptional caterer,” she told him confidently, slim fingers lifting a puff something and popping it into her mouth. She sat easily, sliding back and lifting her feet to cross before her, sitting Indian style on the minute cube. “My, this is quite comfortable,” she announced, reaching for another morsel. “I hope you’re hungry. I really had no idea where to begin selecting a beverage, so I brought water, I hope that’s ok,” she gazed up at him patiently.
“Oh…uhh…yeah, that’s good, thank you.” Simon found himself blinking and wondering what happened to the man who had stood in front of the board that morning issuing orders with a tone that wasn’t left open to discussion.
“People have a sad tendency to forget those working during benefits like this,” Chloe gazed over the things she had selected. “Not allergic to anything, are you? Or anything you profoundly hate?”
“Not allergic and nothing I really hate,” he felt his brain shut down a little more when she bounced off the cube and held a puff pastry out, inches from his mouth. While his brain was sputtering, at least his stomach and mouth knew what to do, the taste of crab and spices filling his senses as he accepted the food. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Simon,” Chloe settled back on the cube, elbows on her knees as she gazed around the bustling floor below. “There are some very beautiful costumes here tonight.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” he said, selecting a slice of ham wrapped around some cheese, taking a hungry bite and watching her closely. “That sounded a little dismayed.”
“No…no, not really dismayed,” she replied, reaching for a piece of fruit. “I spent a long time trying to make up my mind on the costume for tonight. I never quite fit into the quietly sophisticated allure that so many of them manage to exude. Finding a niche to fit into, you know?”
He stared into the large blue eyes. “I think your choice suits you, Chloe.”
“Yes, it does. I think the problem comes from trying to fit into a niche that isn’t the same shape as me,” full lips were drawn into a crooked frown. “Rather like fitting a round peg into a square hole.”
“I’m curious about why you’d want to do that?”
“Because that’s the socially acceptable way to maneuver through life,” her sigh was soft, pale lashes blinking up at him, her chin resting in her palms. “Eons of lectures, perhaps. You need a little magnet that you can hold up to your head and pull bad things from the inside,” she announced, fingers on one hand gesturing as she spoke. “Fortunately, it never lasts very long,” she declared with a bright sparkling smile, another piece of fruit popped into her mouth. “So do you enjoy being a policeman? It must be incredibly fulfilling to help people.”
“It definitely has its moments,” he agreed blindly, recalling his long conversations with his brother about his career choice. Simon was about to ask some curious questions of his own when voices filtered above the classical music being played through the art exhibition.
“Oh-my-god! How…that’s impossible…he never…” Chloe was off the cube in a massive flutter of wings and skirt, her hands out to steady herself while her eyes darted around frantically before stopping on the large man dressed in deep navy blue.
“Chloe…”
“Shhhh!” One finger went to her lips as she moved quietly to stand behind him, her palms on his waist and whisper hoarse. “No! Don’t turn around! Act natural! And don’t say a word,” she whispered direly.
Chloe listened to the all too familiar voice, a shudder sweeping through her that didn’t go unnoticed by the man she stood stiffly behind. He got the distinct impression she was attempting to make herself invisible. Flat, small palms splayed against his back, groaning softly at the glittering hand prints she was leaving on the dark navy color of his uniform.
“Officer,” the casual greeting was offered without thought as the couple continued over the thick carpeting to the other side of the exhibition.
Chloe felt Simon tip his head in acknowledgment of the single word from the older man passing them by. Her hands had been firmly on his waist, holding him in place. “You are very solid,” she murmured, her palms moving to his shoulders. “Nice shoulders, too.”
It was at that point a very firm voice informed her that she was feeling up a cop. Burning fingers fell to her side, her cheeks a little more sparkling beneath the glitter on her face.
“Heh-heh…sorry about that…”
“Are you out after curfew?” Simon knew he wasn’t good at guessing ages of women, but he couldn’t be that damn far off.
“Curfew? Please, I’m well over thirty,” she announced with a fluttering wave of her fingers, her head up to peer cautiously around his side.
“An old boyfriend?”
“No…no…just someone I’d prefer to avoid.” She said with a slight shrug. “These little fruit cups are delicious.”
“Chloe, you were shaking. I could feel it,” Simon accepted the small tart she held out to him.
“I’m ok, Simon. Nothing to worry about.”
“Then you can come back out…I feel like I’m carrying on a conversation with myself.”
“You! Your wallet! You got any jewelry, lady?” His voice had a hard rasp to it, ripplin
g against the half mask of his costume, The Phantom of the Opera.
“Oh, good grief,” Chloe’s head went against Simon’s back with a groan. “Go away before he shoots you, idiot.”
“He ain’t got no gun, lady…get out here where I can see you,” came the gruff order.
“No gun?” Chloe’s fingers tightened on the plastic bottle of water, a soft sigh leaving her lips as her right hand very slowly pulled the baton from his utility belt.
“No gun,” Simon confirmed, dark slits narrowed on the man aiming a small gun at them from about ten feet away. Instincts long shelved were slowly wakening. He pulled himself stiffly to his full six foot two, his gaze never leaving the gun being bandied in front of them. “Chloe…step out here…very slowly.” His held his palm out to the side, waiting for hers to slide into it.
“You heard your man, lady…out here where I can see you. Gimmie your wallet…”
