Light from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 3)

by Becki Willis

  When she caught Travis glancing at his watch, Kenzie groaned in dread. “Our hour is almost up, isn’t it?”

  “Almost, but it’s not like a swarm of people are going to suddenly converge upon us,” he assured her.

  “Still, there was something special about knowing we were the only two people out here,” she sighed wistfully, a dreamy expression on her face. “And it was definitely romantic.”

  “Remember this moment in years to come, when you complain I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”

  “You took me to my first carnival and won me a cheap stuffed animal. I know exactly how romantic you can be.”

  “Oddly enough, I think you’re serious,” he muttered, but his eyes glowed with satisfaction.

  “Oh, I’m very serious, Ranger.” Her green eyes had the shimmer to prove it.

  As the air charged around them, Travis reached for her hand. “I have to be honest with you. I had an ulterior motive for luring you out here for a romantic breakfast.”

  Her heart quickened, but she tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh?”

  “Kenzie, I know your father’s supposed death has given you a sense of freedom. We’ve dropped the security detail and you can come and go without an escort.”

  “And it’s been very nice. But what does that have to do with this?”

  “I know how you feel about WITSEC. I know you’ve already changed your name over a dozen times and lived in just as many places. I know you swore you’d never do it again.”

  Kenzie snatched her hand from his. “And I won’t,” she insisted sharply. “I have no idea what you’re up to, why you think I still need to go into the witness protection program, but my answer is the same as always. No. Absolutely not. I refuse to change my name again. I refuse to move. I can’t believe you would even ask me that, knowing how I feel about the subject!” She huffed the last out indignantly, crossing her arms beneath her heaving breasts and staring at him with a cold glare.

  “I was hoping I could change your mind,” he admitted, pushing back his chair. He made his way back around the table, crowding beside her in the limited space.

  Tears pricked her eyelids. He was cheating on such a grand scale, but she was more than merely disappointed in his tactics; she felt betrayed. He knew how important her independence was to her, he knew exactly how she felt about changing identities again. It hurt that he would even ask again, especially now that the danger was at a minimum.

  “How could you?” she said in a hurt voice, refusing to meet his eyes, even when he dropped to his knee in front of her.

  “I know how you feel about changing your name.” His voice was gentle, and oddly thick. Kenzie turned her gaze to meet his eyes. She was surprised to see the tender light shining in their dark depths as he reached out to brush the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “That’s why I thought maybe- maybe we would only change your last name this time.”

  “Last name?” she asked in confusion.

  “Yes. I think Kenzie Merka has a nice ring to it, don’t you?” His voice was deep and rich, like warm chocolate. She suddenly realized that he knelt down on one knee. His brown eyes held a glow she had never seen before. The air caught and held in her chest, as her heart began to clamor.

  “Kenzie Merka?” she chirped. Rational thought was impossible. Speech was no more promising. She was reduced to nothing more than repeating his words back to him.

  Travis chuckled, the sound filling even the tiniest crevices of her soul. “I know you say you’ll never move away from Austin. But I can’t get a transfer for at least a year, and I really don’t think I can live without you that long. So would you consider just staying in Nacogdoches?” He saw the frown crease her brow and went on quickly, “We could keep your apartment and go back for holidays and vacations. Technically you would still live there, even if you spent most of your time with me in Nacogdoches.”

  “Ch-Cheating,” she managed to whisper.

  Travis sighed. “I know. I know I’m cheating. But I thought I might could sway you with this grand romantic gesture. That, and with my biker outfit. You seemed to like it so much. But if those aren’t working, I have one final trick up my sleeve. One last attempt at cheating my way into your life.”

  She raised questioning eyes to his, still too overwhelmed to speak.

  Travis reached into the pocket of his leather vest and pulled out a simple diamond ring that dangled from a pink ribbon. “I have my Gannie’s wedding ring. I have no idea if it will fit, or if you would even want to wear it. It’s been used, after all. But it was used for over forty years of love and faithfulness, and I think it’s got another sixty or so years left in it. I want you to wear it, Kenzie. I want you to be my wife. I told you before, you are my heart and my soul.”

  When she made no protest, he slipped the ribbon over her neck. His hands trembled slightly as he cupped her face in his big, strong palms and looked into her eyes. “What I didn’t say before, but what I’m saying now, is that I love you, Kenzie Reese. I want to spend my life with you. So I’m asking you one more time. Would you consider changing your name, one final time? I want you to be Mrs. Travis Merka.”

  Tears slipped from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. Still speechless, she could only nod. She threw her arms around him and sobbed against his neck.

  “Why are you crying, darlin’?” he asked softly, but his own eyes were less than dry.

  “Yes!” In delayed reaction, the word burst from her mouth at last. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

  Travis chuckled again. She marveled at the thought that registered somewhere on her deliriously happy mind; twice now he had chuckled, and in such a short amount of time. He crushed her close against him, feeling her tears wet the side of his face and neck. “Don’t cry, darlin’. You’re supposed to be happy. This is supposed to be the first happiest day of our life.”

  “It is! I am! I’m happy, happy, happy!” she insisted. She pulled back so he could see her beaming face. “I love you, Travis! I love you so much and I’m going to make you a terrific wife!” She made her promise with a quick peck on his lips, then pulled away to keep talking. “And I don’t care where we live.” Another peck. “I’ll move.” Still another. “I know now how foolish I was to say I’d never leave Austin.” She kissed him again quickly. “I’ll follow you wherever you go.” Another kiss before she said, “I’ll even change-”

  Before she could finish her thought, Travis was pulling her close. “This is the first time I’ve told a woman I loved her since I was seventeen and too foolish to know any better,” he grumbled against her mouth. “I sure never proposed before. Somehow I thought there would be more kissin’ and less talkin’.”

  “I’m no expert at this either, you know.”

  “Well, I liked it better when you were too shocked to speak. It was easier to kiss you that way.”

  “Then by all means, Ranger, let me shut up so you can kiss me.” Kenzie wound her arms around his waist and pushed herself snugly against his chest. As she lifted her face to his, the morning sun glinted through the trees and temporarily blinded her with its brilliance. She felt the warmth on her face, felt the warmth within her soul.

  For the briefest of moments, before she lost herself to the wonder of Travis’s kiss, she imagined that her mother was smiling down upon her, offering her blessing.

  “The light,” Kenzie breathed into Travis’s mouth.

  “What light?” he mumbled. “I’m seeing fireworks about now.” His kiss deepened. “Definitely stars.”

  “Mmm.” It took a moment for a coherent thought to form when he kissed her like that. “The light,” she murmured. “The light from my mirror.”

  “You’re still talking,” he complained against her lips.

  “Just one more thing,” she whispered, kissing the side of his mouth. “I love you, Travis.”

  “I love you, too. Heart and soul, darlin’. Heart and soul.” He drew a deep breath and pulled her impossibly closer. His tone was decided
ly more impatient. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

  “I just kissed you,” she argued. “It’s your turn. And stop growling like that. You sound like… oh, my.” She barely managed the words before his mouth came down on hers. After a long while, she murmured, “Okay, definitely shutting up now… Mmm.”

  Author’s Note

  I hope you have enjoyed this book and the entire Mirrors Don’t Lie series. Please take a moment to leave a quick review. Your thoughts are invaluable to me and to other readers, as well!

  Special thanks goes to Piret Mand for incorporating my personal photos of the Guadalupe River State Park into another wonderful cover.

  For behind-the-scene details and information about other books I have written, please visit my website, www.beckiwillis.com. You can also find me at www.facebook/beckiwillis.ccp or email me at beckiwillis.ccp@gmail.com.

  Thanks for letting me entertain you through the pages of my imagination. Happy reading!

  Other Books by Becki Willis

  He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GUNU45W

  The Girl from Her Mirror, Book 1 of Mirrors Don’t Lie

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JS4KQIK

  Mirror, Mirror on Her Wall, Book 2 of Mirrors Don’t Lie

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NOC0YKW

  Chicken Scratch, Book 1 of The Sisters, Texas Series

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TYV10GY

  When the Stars Fall, Book 2 of The Sisters, Texas Series

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BGDBKG

  Sample: He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

  CHAPTER ONE

  “These all night stake outs are going to be the death of me yet,” Lange Sterling groaned, shoulder-opening the door to his downtown Richmond office and staggering inside. Muttering a reminder to himself about getting the doorjamb fixed, he threw his crumpled jacket near the vicinity of the coat rack and started for the sofa.

  A persistent red light flashed from his answering machine, determined to catch his attention before he crashed for an early morning nap. Lange hit the play-back button as he plunked himself down on the sofa, marveling at how soft the worn leather felt after a night spent in his pickup truck. At thirty-one, his body was beginning to protest the erratic lifestyle he had led over the past five years.

  Hell, who was he kidding? He had been existing with psychotic sleeping patterns for half his life. As a half-wild teenager, sleep was something done primarily in class. After graduation and that fateful summer he turned nineteen, his life changed forever, but not his sleeping habits. Lack of sleep was all a part of his newfound career with the sheriff department. And now, as an ex-cop turned private investigator, the hours were even worse. There was no one to relieve him when his shift was over, no one to wake him when the bell rang. Everything was left up to him, and he had so few hours in a day to do it all.

  Lost in self-pity, he almost missed the first message on the machine. It was Diane, reminding him of their dinner arrangements with one of her clients. Lange winced as he belatedly remembered to call off their date. The second message was from her, as well, as she realized he had forgotten to cancel their date. She told him what she thought of him in no uncertain terms, bringing a sigh of resignation from the prone body sprawled across the couch. She had some painful suggestions about what he could do with the cell phone he refused to answer while on a stake-out. Eyes drooping in fatigue, he listened to the next message, a pre-recorded message assuring him there was nothing wrong with his credit now, but by enrolling in their latest program...

  Diane called a third time, apparently after returning from her dinner and having cooled off. She regretted her earlier outburst and wanted to make it up to him. Known for her mercurial mood swings, the auburn-haired attorney obviously had some bi-polar issues. Lange snuggled down deeper into the cushions, thankful to have missed the brute force of her latest swing.

  The final message was from the same woman who had called earlier in the week, the one with the soft, breathless voice. With his eyes shut, it was easy to imagine screen legend Doris Day on the other end of the line. But he had never heard his favorite movie star from the silver screen speak with a quiver of fear in her voice, as this woman did.

  “Mr. Sterling, I-I need your help. I’ve called before but seem to keep missing you. I prefer to speak with you in person, so I’ll come by your office in the morning, about a quarter till nine. I hope you’ll be there, this matter is urgent. Thank you.”

  Lange moaned in protest and opened his eyes just wide enough to consult his wrist watch. She would be here in thirty minutes. He fished his cell phone from his pocket and set the alarm, hoping to see the tiny numbers correctly through his sleep depraved eyes. Then he settled back to claim twenty glorious minutes of sleep before the mysterious woman arrived.

  ***

  He was dreaming of daisies. Doris Day was running through a field of them, warning him not to eat the daisies. He could hear her soft, gentle voice, he could even feel the petals of a flower brushing against his face. They tickled.

  He awoke with a start, realizing he was not alone. A woman stood over him, her face bent close as she peered hesitantly at his inert form. Her white blonde hair fell forward, tickling his cheek, and he felt the warmth of a summer breeze flood his senses. It was something in her scent, something in her sky blue eyes. Something in the brilliant smile that was beginning to spread across her gorgeous face.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake,” she said.

  It was her, alright; Doris.

  “Uh.... yeah,” Lange muttered. Was he really awake, or was this a dream? He reached out a hand and touched her. She pulled away from his touch with a small gasp, her big blue eyes widening.

  Lange didn’t know which hit him first – the realization that he wasn’t dreaming, or the feel of her skin. It was softer than anything he could possibly dream up. Somewhere in his befuddled mind he knew he should be fully alert now and moving, but all he could do was lay there and stare.

  “Are- Are you sure you’re alright?” the woman asked in genuine concern.

  Snapping out of his trance, Lange swung up from the couch in one easy, fluid motion. As he pulled himself to his full six feet, three inches, the woman straightened with him, until she had to tilt her head backwards to peer into his face. Lange stared down at her, fascinated by her strawberry red lips, still wondering if she was anything more than a figment of his imagination. Before he reached for her a second time, he controlled the impulse to touch her by running both hands through his hair.

  “I came at a bad time,” she said with sudden realization.

  “No, no, you’re fine,” Lange insisted, smoothing his dark hair down. “All-night stake out,” he said by way of explanation, stretching away some of the fatigue.

  Her eyes followed the rippling muscles along his shoulders, traced the denim shirt which strained under the expansion of his chest. A flash of appreciation sparked in her eyes before she hastily lowered them.

  In spite of himself, Lange grinned. So, the little daisy wasn’t quite as innocent as she first appeared. Remembering his manners and, more importantly, his career, he extended his hand and made a formal introduction. “Excuse my manners; Lange Sterling.”

  She placed her small hand into his and met his gaze as she smiled and said, “Ashli Wilson.”

  A thought vaguely registered on his mind, how he never knew until now that sunshine had a given name. Her hand was small and soft and smooth; his was big and rough and callused. Somehow the feel of her crept up his arm, across the general area of his heart, and down to regions known only to man.

  All this from a handshake? Hell, he was more exhausted than he thought.

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Wilson?”

  “I’m in need of your services.”

  “So I gathered. Exactly what did you need?”

  Ashli glanced around the room and spied the desk and chairs behind him. “Could we sit down, please, to discuss it?”


  “Certainly.” He waved toward the chair absently, his hand still warm from holding hers. When she simply stood beside the seat, waiting, he realized she expected him to get the chair. Masking his irritation, Lange pulled the chair out for her while murmuring an apology about his lack of manners.

  Shoving papers aside to prop one lean hip on the edge of the desk, Lange returned to business. “So what is it I can do for you, Ms. Wilson?”

  “It’s Miss,” she corrected him in that whisper-soft voice. “And I need to hire you to protect me.”

  “Protect you?” He went on full alert. “Are you in some sort of danger?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not. I don’t intend to be, if you’ll help me.”

  Trying to digest her three answers to his one question, he finally came up with another. “Who do you want me to protect you from?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t know.”

  For all her beauty, she seemed to be a bit shy on brains. Slowly, as if speaking to a dull witted child, he asked, “Then why do you need my protection?”

  She reached up to push an errant lock of hair from her forehead. “I think someone is watching me,” she replied.

  His eyes - and his mind - were still tangled in the blond strands she pushed away. Damn right someone was watching her; every red blooded male in Richmond, including himself.

  Seeing her tiny frown, he wondered if he had voiced his thoughts out loud. “What makes you think that, Miss Wilson?”

  “Well, it’s more a feeling than anything else,” she admitted.

  “A feeling.” Oh, hell, she was worse than he thought!

  “You know that funny little feeling you get when someone is watching you? The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you can just feel their gaze on you.” She used her hands to illustrate her words. “Well, someone is definitely watching me.”