She looked at him, studied him, but he had already dismissed her and she knew he wouldn’t waver. She turned and proceeded to follow him up the stairs, then continued to climb to the third story.
* * * *
Wyatt didn’t think he could feel as protective of someone he just met but he felt like he had known Isabella all his life. He knew her tells when she was frightened, sincere, or overwhelmed. He wanted to spend more time with her and looked forward to going to his mountain retreat. He sighed, bowed his head, and rubbed his eyes. He had a lot of work to do, not a lot of time to do it in, and needed some peace and quiet.
He wished he could share everything with her, tell her his innermost concerns, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But not yet.
Chapter 31
Isabella walked into a bright and beautiful bedroom decorated in soft, light pastels with matching print valances and comforter on a king-size bed. A night table sat on each side of the bed, a sitting bench at the foot of the bed, and a beautiful wood dresser on the side wall under a row of long and narrow windows.
She paused when she noticed the window, then slowly walked to it and looked out. Good, it faced the street, not the woods. She loved the woods and all the trees around, much like her childhood home in Colorado.
Her mother, she thought, must be frantic. She wondered if she had filed a missing persons report for her or if she had realized she was missing yet? She hoped the police would find her mother safe and that she hadn’t missed her at all. If she could, she would do anything to spare her any agony.
She walked to the bedside table, picked up the phone, started to dial, then quickly hung up. What if her mother’s phone had been tapped? What if they were holding her mother captive waiting for her to call or were threatening her mother for information? What if they were monitoring Wyatt’s phones? And they found out where she was, then what? She decided she had to wait, talk to Wyatt about her mother. She would have to trust him for now.
She sat down on the bed and closed her eyes. Wyatt’s face came before her eyes, and she inhaled deeply, butterflies jumped in her stomach whenever he came near her. She lost all her reasoning while her other senses became enhanced. She could recognize his scent, the feel of running her hand though his hair, the sight of his deep blue eyes. She especially enjoyed his kisses. She could almost feel his arms around her and his hands moving up and down her back.
She was so entranced by her attraction to him that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and could hear his deep even breathing. It seemed so real, his breath so hot.
What? She opened her eyes. He was sitting beside her on the bed.
“Are you okay? You looked so far away, as if in a daydream.”
She pulled a pillow from the bed in front of her chest. “Y-yes, yes, I’m just, just thinking about my mother and how upset she must be.”
“Really? Do you always have a flushed face and a dreamy look on your face when you think about your mother?”
She gave him an incredulous look. What now? Could he read her thoughts? She quickly stood. “Where is the closet?”
When he pointed to the door on the wall behind her, she walked around the bed into an enormous walk-in closet. When she turned around to look back at him, she nearly bumped into him. He had followed her into the closet and stood behind her.
“This closet is huge!” she blabbered to cover her embarrassment. “It’s about the size of my bedroom in my apartment at home. Did your sister decorate this room too? It’s beautiful and very light and airy.”
“No, I did this room myself for Amy when she visits, but she left her handiwork in the closet.”
She turned back to the closet, which contained an entire wardrobe with any type of clothing for any activity, fancy party or cocktail dresses, jeans, sweats, skirts, sweaters, silks, satins, so many belts and bags, and too many shoes to count.
“There are so many things in here. Does Amy have any clothes at her place in New York?”
Wyatt threw his head back and laughed—a deep, loud rumble that echoed off the high ceilings. She looked at him and smiled. It comforted her to hear him laugh, his face lighting up—similar to the picture on his desk—revealing beautiful dimples on both his cheeks.
“What’s so funny?”
“She rarely ever wears anything twice, especially the things here. My sister wouldn’t miss these clothes if you took every single piece and never returned them.” He handed her a lightweight duffle bag. “Go ahead, help yourself.”
She stared at him, disbelieving, turned back to the closet dumbstruck.
“Wait, don’t get the wrong impression. She’s a very successful businesswoman. She’s probably a lot like you. When she finds a pair of jeans she likes and they fit good, she buys two or three pairs. Then she leaves one pair here so she can ‘travel light’ when she comes for the day or for any length of time.
“She travels all over the world on buying trips and sometimes she’ll leave from Norfolk. She always leaves extra clothes here in case she decides to stay here longer.”
She looked back at the clothes neatly hanging or folded on shelves in the cedar-lined closet. “But, Wyatt, your sister might need these when she comes to visit. I really don’t want to impose on either you or your sister. No, no, I couldn’t really. I’ll wash the clothes I wore here and wear them. Where did you put them?”
Wyatt, a little insolent, replied, “Sorry, I burned them.”
She was shocked at his audacity. “Why? Why would you do that to them?”
“They were rags, that’s why. Especially after all the rips and holes you got in them while running here.”
Isabella looked around the closet, beginning to acquiesce.
“This is going to be hard. Clothes have never really been important to me,” she mumbled to herself.
* * * *
Wyatt hadn’t heard what she said. He had gotten lost standing so close to her. She smelled fresh and sweet. He remembered how her lips felt when he kissed them, and the sound of her soft moans.
He couldn’t understand what happened to him when he got near her. He couldn’t think clearly, he could barely remember the name of his hometown. The vision he saw when he walked in to the bedroom a few moments ago flashed before him. Beautiful, sitting on the bed, eyes closed, her face softened in the light, looked as if in a fairytale daydream. What? What am I thinking?
He came to his senses when he heard her saying his name but didn’t know if it was in his daydream or real. She stood with her hands on her hips, a smirk on her face, looking at him waiting for an answer.
“As I said, help yourself, but pack light. I’m sure Amy won’t mind. In fact, she’d be flattered someone of your character has her same great taste in fashion. I’ll go get dinner started in the meantime.” He turned and walked out the door.
* * * *
She heard him say from a distance, “Take your time.”
Isabella went through the closet, overwhelmed with so many choices, but finally chose a pair of slacks, a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt-like top, and a two-piece sweater set. She tried on a pair of shoes and voila, they fit. She looked around for undergarments, but saw none.
I hope, I hope I can find a bra. She put the clothes from the closet in the duffle bag and threw it on the bed on her way to the dresser.
She opened the top dresser drawer filled with fancy silky, satiny, lacy panties. She picked out a couple pair she found not too revealing and looked comfortable.
Another dresser drawer held bras but all were two sizes too small. Damn these big boobs.
The third drawer held socks. She picked out a pair in case of a cold night or if the weather changed like it often did at home.
In the fourth drawer, she found nightgowns. Not the cotton, simple t-shirt ones she usually wore either, but soft satiny and lacy ones with thin straps. She felt their softness, settled on one with wide straps and a matching full coverage robe. She folded them with care, put everything neatly bac
k in the drawers, and put her final choices in the duffle bag.
Thinking she should help Wyatt with dinner, Isabella picked up the bag and headed down the stairs. She could hear him working and whistling in the kitchen. Her dad had been a whistler when he puttered around the house, and the sound reminded her of him, of home and security, some of which she felt now.
Thinking about Wyatt made her face flush and her blood run hot. She stumbled over her words, about to say that no one ever made her feel the way he did when he was close to her or just looked at her.
She hadn’t said that out loud, had she? She looked at Wyatt, who was studying her face and her lips.
Chapter 32
Wyatt reviewed all the information they had gathered. They had missed something, he knew it, and it continued to haunt him. He had reviewed everything again for the third time, researched all relevant and available databases, and printed applicable reports from prior activities and abductions. He now had a better idea of Spike and his operation and he knew what he had to do. Why? That was the unknown question.
Wyatt had put the lasagna in the oven to reheat, had some bread ready to go in shortly, and had started putting a salad together when he heard her coming down the stairs. He looked at the bay window and the open view to the woods and realized that it would be dark soon, which would enable all eyes to see into the eating area in the kitchen. He picked up their salad plates, headed to the dining room to meet her, and closed the swinging door behind him.
Wyatt came in from the kitchen as Isabella reached the doorway of the dining room. He put down the salads on the table and held out a chair for her.
“Thank you,” she muttered, smiling, awed by his chivalry.
While he poured the wine, he smiled at her. “You just bring out the best in me.” He sat down to her right at the head of the table.
“It’s very good. My compliments to the chef,” she said.
They both ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Wyatt became overcome with curiosity.
“Tell me about your home in Colorado, where you were born, how your parents met.”
“Well, let’s see. I’ve told you most of it already. I was born in a very small town outside Denver, called Cameron Lakes. My parents didn’t think they could have any children, so I was a big surprise. My parents were high school sweethearts, had been married about thirty-five years when my father died. Since I was an only child, I was very close to both my parents but my mom and I became even closer after Dad’s death, until I started seeing Michael. When we became serious and yet…” He looked into her eyes. Wyatt became mesmerized by her, while time stood still, unable to hear the seconds ticking by on the grandfather clock, struck with emotion.
Wyatt cleared his throat, looking down at his almost-empty salad plate. “I—I guess…I guess I should check on the lasagna.”
He stood, and strode into the kitchen. He berated himself, becoming just plain angry. He had to get control of his feelings instead of acting like a high school kid with his first crush. He wouldn’t be worth anything or be able help her if he didn’t, like he couldn’t help Rachael.
Although Dave had argued with him many times about Rachael knowing ahead of time what she had gotten herself into, that she had her eyes wide open when she trained as a cop. She knew the risks. She knew the odds when she decided to go undercover. She knew her chances of being killed just like every other cop.
He still blamed himself. If he had been able to see the true Rachael he maybe could have saved her from herself.
Beeeeeeeep! The blessed oven timer blared interrupting his inner-directed tirade. He shook his head to clear the clouding, unwanted thoughts and grabbed the oven mitts. In a matter of minutes, he and Isabella were enjoying the great smell and taste of Lean Cuisine lasagna.
“What do you think? Do you like it?” After he sprinkled cheese on top, he waited a minute or two for it to cool.
“It’s very tasty and one of my all-time favorites. I’ve never had it quite like this before though. I usually don’t put the extra cheese on top.” She giggled.
She glanced at him, his look, that of a little boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. They both laughed.
“You caught me. I’m not much of a cook, but I hate to eat out all the time.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and settled it back on his lap. “This frozen dinner and a salad is about all I can do.”
“Well, you did a great job. Thank you very much, Wyatt, for everything.” Isabella blabbered. “For taking me in, believing in me and feeding me. I don’t know how to repay you!”
He watched her soft, warm lips move while she talked, remembered how hot and wet they’d felt on his. She talked, saying something about repayment for something. He could think of a couple ways of collecting—one of them in bed. He looked at her face. She had stopped talking, waiting for an answer to an unheard question. He tried to remember her last words. Wyatt regained his composure.
“Let’s wait and see how everything works out. We can talk about repayment later. Tell me about your father.”
“I really don’t like to talk about him. The memory alone upsets me. I still miss him, I always will. But his death was so totally unnecessary, and unjust. It makes me so angry.”
Wyatt heard defiance in her voice. “What did he do for a living?”
“He and my mother owned an insurance agency, Donnelly Insurance. They worked together most of their married lives. After my father d-d-died, my mother sold the agency and the house. She moved into a small but comfortable two-bedroom condo, and I went off to college.”
“What made you decide to become a teacher?”
“I’ve always loved children, their inquisitive minds, watching them learn new things. I babysat a lot as a young teenager, and I’m so glad I did, because I gained so much experience to put to use in my everyday job. Oh my God!”
“What is it?”
“What about my job? What will the children think when I don’t show up? And when they hear about what happened to me?”
Wyatt comfortingly calmed her down. “This will be just a little more experience to put to use in everyday life. Later, when you can put everything in perspective, not right now, of course, but you can use this experience to help kids become aware of strangers, or of getting mixed up with the wrong crowd, or going to the home of a stranger. There are all kinds of ways to use this experience to your advantage, as well as theirs, and good for everyone.”
“I just hope and pray you’re right. What about Mom?” Her lips quivered. “Have you heard anything about her? She’s really all I have left now.”
Wyatt rubbed the top of her hand resting on the table and gently squeezed her fingers. “You have me now too.”
She quickly removed her hand from under his and stared down at her almost-empty plate. She wanted to believe Wyatt, that he would take care of her, but after her most recent experiences she found it hard to trust anyone, anyone at all. “It’s so easy to say ‘I’ll take care of you,’ but can you really?”
“I will take care of you, keep you safe. You can trust me, I promise.”
He picked up the half-empty wine bottle. “Would you like a little more wine? It’ll help you relax so you can get a couple hours of sleep before we leave.”
“Yes, but just a little.”
He topped off her glass and he watched her settle back with her glass of wine in her hand. “I hardly know anything about you except that you grew up with Dave and used to be a cop. What about your family, your business?”
“Hmmm, let’s see. My parents were also high school sweethearts but more like Romeo and Juliet. Neither of their parents approved of them together, especially of their marriage. They came from different backgrounds, and their parents disliked each other. They both went to different colleges but they kept in touch with each other. After graduation, they ran off; eloped, if you will, and got married. It took a couple years for my grandparents to accept their marriage. They did, but not un
til after I was born. Then about two years later my sister Amy came along.
“She and I grew up together with just each other for friends, along with Dave and Dan since we all lived out of town. My dad was an engineer, started the family business, making a small part for airplanes. That small part resulted in substantial government contracts that, in turn, resulted in plants located all over the country.
“The company grew. Dad bought a large parcel of property and started the land development end of the business. And that’s how Bowman Industries & Land Development got started.”
“Do your parents still live here in the area?”
Wyatt hesitated, swirled the wine in his glass, watching it cling to the sides. He took a long deep swallow to wet his suddenly dry mouth.
“No, unfortunately, they were both killed in a car accident about three years ago while on vacation in Florida. So I do know what it’s like to lose a parent, to feel the grief and loneliness. My parents were both only children, so all I have is Amy, and of course good friends like Dave.”
“I’m sorry Wyatt, I had no idea.”
“It’s okay. I had three or four really good years working with Dad before he died. He always said he wanted me to run the company. That’s why he sent me to college. But I wanted to be a cop. He didn’t stop me from doing what I wanted to do, but I’m glad I had those years with him. He taught me so much in a short period of time. I really got to know him as a man, an honest, hard-working, shrewd businessman, not just my dad.”
A short time later, Wyatt got up and started stacking and carrying dishes to the kitchen. Isabella got up, a little unsteady on her feet, thanks to the wine, to help him with the dishes, but he stopped her by putting his hand on her arm.
“No curtains at the big window in the kitchen, remember. Anyway, I’m just going to stack these in the sink for Hannah, my housekeeper. She’ll take care of them in the morning. I’m not sure what I’d do without her. Sit down and relax. Drink the rest of your wine.”
Confer, Lorelei - Deadly Deception (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 13
