"The way I understand it, when she was ten she was hit by lightning. It was after that the sensations started to come to her. She's a caring person. She loves her husband and son, and Nathan's daughters accept her as a second mom."
"And she teamed up with a former cop."
"Jake had heard about her, looked into her success rate and then recommended her to Nathan. After she found Nathan's daughters, Jake was a believer."
"Are you sure there's no fee, Linc? I can make a donation, but I don't know how much."
"They don't charge."
"But you've donated to this foundation," she guessed.
"I have. I believe in the work they do."
Emma stared at the sun beginning to set, the sky shot through with pink and orange. She thought about Paige and the empty car and dark nights when she couldn't sleep wondering where her sister was, crying because she was afraid Paige had been hurt, crying because she was afraid she was dead.
"Let's walk back," she said, needing to think about all of this.
Linc didn't initiate conversation as they walked, as gulls screeched, as waves pounded the shore. The tide was coming in, creating puddles in the sand that she was barely aware of as she sloshed through them. Linc stayed by her side, walked where she walked, a force to be reckoned with himself.
She would have kept walking, but Linc tapped her shoulder and pointed to his house across the expanse of loose sand and grass. When they reached the steps, she wiped the sand from her feet and slipped them into her shoes. He let her precede him.
Once they were standing on the deck, she made a decision. The ocean wasn't as loud up here but it still carried a resonant voice, a pounding that was a backdrop.
When she turned to face Linc, for a few moments the sound of the ocean faded away. The brush of the breeze on her face hardly registered because she got lost in his green eyes. But then she remembered why she was here, at his house on the beach.
Her voice was loud and clear above the sound of the surf. "I'd like to meet Gillian."
Chapter Two
When Linc pulled up in front of Emma's bungalow, pretty much the same as every bungalow on the street except for the orange poppies and Redbuds around the foundation, the pretty wreath on the door, he was feeling disconcerted to say the least. He didn't like his attraction to Emma Henderson.
Plain and simple, he didn’t trust most women. His parents' divorce had been brutal. His mother had only wanted custody of him to win the war. She made up garbage about his dad, how he lost his temper, how he was never home, how he went to the bar with his buddies to drink. But Linc knew his dad only lost his temper when his mother ran up their credit card bill or when she forgot about Linc's track meet or when she had too many drinks at a party they attended. And as far as working late? He'd had to pay for their debt. A drink with his buddies at a nearby sports bar on Friday afternoons was as far as that went.
Linc had been old enough to know the truth. By twelve he'd learned to distrust his mother's motives about everything. She'd wanted a huge divorce settlement and she'd gotten it.
Emma hadn't been able to find personal information on him because he was careful not to put it out there. And if it got out, Nathan's internet skills managed to block it or make it disappear.
Once he'd thought he'd risk getting married. Colleen had seemed not to care about his money or his name or his success. But he'd been bamboozled by her and had learned the truth the hard way. She'd had an abortion and hadn't told him. He'd found out by accident when she'd been in another room and he'd picked up her cell phone, thinking he was doing her a favor. He'd answered a call from a clinic confirming a follow-up appointment. When he'd looked into that clinic and then confronted Colleen, he'd learned the truth. She didn't want children. She wasn't about to lose her figure to a baby or be chained down caring for one.
How had he been so blind? Maybe he'd just wanted a family too badly.
He loved spending time with Nathan and Gillian, enjoying their kids, and with Jake and Sara and their little boy. Over the past few months he'd been seriously considering adopting kids of his own. Why not? There were plenty of kids out there who needed a home.
As Linc stared at the front door of the bungalow, he somehow knew in his gut that this was a home.
Linc hadn't been able to reach Gillian on her cell. Sometimes she went hiking with Nathan where there wasn't any cell phone reception. Sometimes she and Jake had to make a trip to search for missing persons. If she was flying, her cell would be turned off.
"Why don't you come in for a cup of coffee? Then we can try Gillian again," Emma said. "I'd really like to set up an appointment as soon as we can. If I can't be in my shop, I have to juggle my salesclerks."
Should he go into Emma's house for a cup of coffee? There was a car in the carport and he assumed that was hers. "Is your daughter at your neighbor's?"
"No. Maris watches her here. If we didn't do it that way, Becky would want to take everything but the kitchen sink over there."
Linc shook his head. "Kids and their toys. I bought Nathan's little boy, Matthew, a monster truck for Christmas. All he wanted to do was play with the box."
Emma's smile as she thought about children and maybe her daughter was devoid of the confusion and turmoil that had been there when she'd talked about her sister. "Becky's into crafts right now. She likes pasting cotton balls on a piece of paper to make a lamb or pasting popcorn kernels on a drawing to decorate a tree."
"An artist in the making," Linc suggested.
"Maybe. But I think she just likes the mess it makes."
Linc laughed. He enjoyed Emma's down-to-earth way of looking at life. A cup of coffee with a four-year-old chaperone didn't seem like a bad idea. But as Linc followed Emma to the side door, he watched the natural sway of her hips in her heels. He also glimpsed her long, creamy neck as she pushed her hair over her shoulder. When he again caught the scent of the flowery perfume she was wearing, his body told him coffee, even with a chaperone, could be an ordeal.
She wasn't asking him inside for a rendezvous, he told himself. She was asking him inside because she wanted to find her sister.
Linc had guessed this door would lead into a kitchen and he was right. He stepped inside behind Emma, into a charming blue-and-yellow flowered country charm ambience.
As soon as the little girl sitting at the kitchen table saw Emma, she scrambled off her chair and came running toward her. "Mommy. Mommy. You're home!"
Emma stooped and hugged her daughter, gathering her close. "I've missed you, honey," Emma said, hugging her, tickling her and blowing a kiss in her ear.
Her daughter giggled. "I'm making cereal houses."
"Cereal houses?" Emma stood and her gaze met an older woman's. Her baby sitter was sitting at the table with a crayon in her hand. "We've been making a whole village."
Emma released her daughter and stood and introduced Linc. "Maris Stambaugh, this is Linc Granger. He produced the interview I told you about. It will air in a few days."
Maris came forward and shook his hand. "It's good to meet you. I hope the interview helps bring Paige home."
"I do, too. We'll be doing plenty of promo for it, including on the social networks."
Emma's arm was around her daughter's shoulders. "Becky, I'd like you to meet a new friend of mine. This is Mr. Granger."
He crouched down to Becky's eye level. "You can call me Linc."
Becky ducked behind her mom's sundress skirt and peeked out at him, only her little face—a very much younger version of Emma's—visible.
"She's often shy around new people," Emma explained.
"That's understandable," Linc said, still crouched down. "Becky, can you call me Linc?"
She screwed up her little face. "Linc?"
He laughed. "Success! How many houses do you have in your village?"
She seemed torn between her shyness and wanting to tell him. He waited, knowing that's what you had to do with kids.
Finally, Becky loo
ked up at her mom. Emma nodded, as if it was okay to reveal such important information to him.
Suddenly Becky's arm appeared from behind her mom's skirt and she held up two fingers. But then she added, "We're makin' more."
"Maybe you can paint a few of those cereal pieces silver and make a car, too."
"Don't give her any ideas," Emma chided. "Have you been around paint and four-year-olds?"
He chuckled. "I usually don't have to handle the cleanup." Then he addressed Becky again. "Do you want to show me your pictures?"
This time she forgot about being shy. She ran over to the table, grabbed one and brought it to him. "It's dry!" she proclaimed proudly.
"Good thing, too," Emma said wryly, noting the pieces of circular cereal all over the table and a few scattered on the floor.
Linc gave the picture the proper attention it deserved, then he rose to his feet. "Would you like to show me the ones that aren't dry?"
Nodding vigorously, Becky led him over to the table.
He caught Emma studying him curiously. Then she was in motion. "I'll make that coffee."
#
As the coffee pot gurgled and spit, Emma watched Linc with her daughter. He really did seem to like kids. His talk about spending time with his friends' children must have been the truth.
Why wouldn't she expect the truth? Because Barrett had lied to her on occasion—nothing big, just a little white lie here and there. He'd tell her he was working late. He was an accountant with his own office. But then she'd find out he was really playing poker with friends. Why he hadn't just told her that in the first place, she could never figure out. He'd tell her he'd be home for supper at 5:00, but not actually come home until around 7:00. It was as if he wanted to keep her off balance. Maybe it had just been a control issue.
After Maris left, Emma noted that Linc was still talking to her daughter, helping her arrange cereal on another house. Every once in a while they'd each snitch a piece and eat it. Barrett hadn't played with Becky, hadn't cooed to her, rocked her, or fed her. That had been Emma's responsibility, and she'd loved doing it. But she'd felt so alone, like the things that really mattered to her hadn't mattered to Barrett. Having a little girl to raise was something he put up with and didn't enjoy. When they were dating and first married, he'd been charming and considerate. But after Becky was born, their marriage had changed. He had changed and she hadn't known what to do about it.
Becky's voice suddenly pierced her musings. "Can Linc read a book with us?"
"Oh, I don't know, honey. Linc's a busy man. He might not have time."
Linc looked down at her daughter and then up at her. When their gazes met, she felt the room shake a little. It was an entirely disturbing feeling and one she wasn't used to. She tried not to let anyone rock her world, but this man was succeeding in more ways than one.
He said, "I have to make a phone call. But I do have time. It's up to your mom, though. Reading a book before bed is pretty special. You don't just share that with anyone."
He was telling her it was okay if she didn't want him farther into her house, okay if she didn't want him to move farther into her life. Confused by her attraction to him, but recognizing the way he was making her daughter feel special, she agreed to Becky's request. "Okay, honey. Do you think you can get cleaned up there?"
"Can you help?" she asked Linc, who definitely seemed to be her new friend.
"I can if your mom has a dustpan. Somehow the cereal seemed to jump all over the floor."
Becky giggled.
Emma knew the cleanup wouldn't take long. But when she took the dustpan off the hook in the closet and handed it to Linc, they seemed to be standing very close together. He took up all the space in her kitchen. He was so tall, so broad-shouldered, so slim-hipped, so…sexy. Her mind went places it hadn't been for a very long time.
As he took the dustpan from her, he gave her a crooked smile, as if he seemed to know what she was thinking. She felt flustered all over again. She wished he could reach Gillian Bradley and reach her quickly.
Linc took out his phone while she readied Becky for bed. She was picking out a book from the shelf when he entered the purple-and-yellow flouncy bedroom. It was pure little girl with its white dresser, bookshelves, desk and single bed, its lilac curtains and purple comforter. Becky's favorite color was purple, so Emma had given in to her daughter's desire to have the color everywhere. But Linc seemed like a giant in the room and Emma realized it wasn't just his tall, fit build—it was his presence. He emanated confidence and power.
He answered her question without her having to ask. "Still not answering. Nathan isn't either, which makes me think—" He gave a shrug. "They don't have many evenings alone, so they might be taking advantage of this one."
Emma knew she and Barrett hadn't done that often enough. Maybe if they had, they would have grown together in their marriage instead of apart.
Linc reassured her, "I've left messages. Gillian will get back to me as soon as she can."
In the same small room, Emma couldn't ignore the electricity that was zipping back and forth between her and Linc. Totally impossible, she told herself again. Impossible.
But when Linc hunkered down beside Becky and asked, "Which are your favorite books?" and helped her pick out one they both liked, Emma sighed with an almost resigned acceptance of what she was feeling. She wanted to touch his broad back. She wanted to run her fingers through his thick brown hair. She wanted to—
Nope, she didn't. Not here, not now. Not anywhere, not anytime. Since Becky's bed was a single, Linc sat on one side of her daughter on the side of the bed and Emma sat on the other.
"Can you read?" Becky asked Linc.
Surprised, Emma glanced at him. He seemed unfazed by her daughter's request. "Sure." He pointed up at the ceiling where silver stars were painted in a variety of constellations. "What are those?"
Becky giggled. "My stars. We count them before I go to sleep."
"What a great idea," Linc said, glancing over at Emma as if she were a very smart mom. His admiration felt good.
Even with Becky between them, Emma was aware of his bare hair-roughened legs in the cutoffs, his muscled forearms as he held Becky's book, the deep timbre of his voice as he read. He seemed so comfortable, she wondered how many times he'd read to his friends' children.
After the story was finished, Becky looked up at Linc as if she expected something from him. How easily she could get attached. She saw her friends' daddies pushing them on swings, helping them on jungle gyms. She knew her daddy had gone away somewhere and was never coming back. Like Emma herself when she was a child, did Becky long for a father who would give her hugs and kisses and was always there when she needed him?
Linc didn't seem to want to overextend any boundaries. He flipped up the end of one of Becky's pigtails. "It was nice meeting you, Becky. Thanks for inviting me to read one of your books." He stood. "You have lots of sweet dreams."
Then he walked out of her daughter's bedroom briskly, saying over his shoulder to Emma, "I'll make that call again." His words seemed a bit terse and Emma wondered what had happened.
After she tucked Becky in, counted stars, kissed her goodnight and turned on the night light, she closed her daughter's door part way and went to the living room. The house she and Barrett had bought had fit their income level. Barrett had always told her it was just temporary, until they could afford something bigger. But Emma had always been happy here. Her living room was comfortable, decorated in tan, russet and navy. Some of Becky's dolls lay scattered across the sofa, plastic animals littered the coffee table.
Linc was standing by the picture window talking on his phone, staring out into the dark night. He ended his call as she crossed to him, hopeful now that he'd reached Gillian Bradley.
"Gillian and Nathan had gone to dinner. They'd switched off their phone for a while. She'd been about to call me. She said she'd be glad to meet with you, but that you shouldn't expect too much. She never knows what will happ
en."
"When?" Emma asked, thinking only of her sister now. For a short time tonight, she'd been able to set aside stress and worry, probably because her attraction to Linc had given her something else to think about.
"If we meet with her tomorrow morning, she said Nathan can watch Matthew. Does that work for you?"
"Becky has preschool tomorrow. I drive her there around 8:30. It's a few blocks from here."
"Around 9:30 should work, then," Linc decided. "I can give you directions to Gillian's or I can pick you up."
"I can drive myself," she responded quickly. She was used to standing on her own two feet and didn't want to depend on anyone, certainly not this man who was out of her league.
"All right. Do you want me to meet you there, or do you want me to stay out of it altogether? I do want you to keep in mind that Gillian and I will be discussing this even though any tips the hotline receives will be routed to the detective in charge. I never know what else might develop from airing the interview."
Work with a psychic. Just what did that entail? Linc was saying he probably had connections she'd need, so her answer was obvious. "I'd like you to be involved, but I know how busy you must be."
"Everyone is busy with what they make themselves busy with. I can clear my schedule in the morning."
"Then I really would like you there." For moral support, as well as his connections, she realized. "Would you like that coffee?"
He checked his watch. "I'd better go. I have other calls to make tonight. I'll let Gillian know we're on for the morning. She suggested you bring a picture of your sister and something personal of hers if you have it. A piece of clothing is always good...jewelry, too."
"Her clothes are here. With the close of the semester at school, she'd emptied her dorm room."
"So she lived with you when school wasn't in session?"
"Yes. And babysat for me. She's great with Becky..." Emma's voice trailed off. Then she swallowed and went on, "As I told Tessa, she'd just finished earning an associate degree and was looking for work."
Linc looked as if he wanted to console her...or something. But instead, he walked through the living room into the kitchen and then to the carport door.
Always Devoted Page 2
