Wanting Hunter: Book 1 in the Cameron Family Saga

by Shirley Larson

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “I have faith in you.” At the door, she turned. “Have patience. She’ll come around.”

  “Pinkie swear?” he said, a rueful smile turning his lips up.

  “I don’t need a pinkie swear. I know just how persuasive my brother can be.”

  Chapter 15

  On Tuesday of the third week of rehearsals, when Liz was feeling tired and cranky, she made a couple of rookie mistakes in rehearsal. She muffed a line and made a mistake in her blocking. Thinking she couldn’t be any more tired, Liz entered the lobby of her building to find Marco holding a lovely bouquet of roses, carnations, and tall blue delphiniums.

  “Very pretty, aren’t they? I take good care of them for you, Miss Liz.”

  “Thank you, Marco.” She pulled one of the biggest red roses from the bouquet and handed it to him. “Take this home to your wife.”

  “Always so thoughtful. Thank you, Miss Liz. And good luck with your new show.”

  She’d moved to pick up the flowers but stopped. “How did you know I had a new show?”

  He was caught. “The gentleman who brought the flowers said he wanted to congratulate you.”

  “Mr. Cameron.”

  “No, ma’am. It was some other gentleman. I was rather surprised. He did not seem the type to be acquainted with you.”

  “I have a type?”

  “This guy was…a little rough around the edges.

  Now Marco had aroused her curiosity. She opened the card.

  Congratulations, Peter Cardwell.

  “What did this man look like?”

  “Sort of like those guys in the movies, you know? The ones that ride those motorcycles and roar around town. Not nice guys.”

  “I don’t know anybody who has a motorcycle.”

  “I didn’t think you would know him very well.”

  She took the card, crumpled it and stuffed it in her pocket. A memory niggled. “Marco, take this whole bouquet home to your wife. I’ll just forget to water them and they will die.”

  Marco looked horrified. “Oh, no, Miss Liz. I couldn’t do that. Those are your flowers.”

  “Well, since they are mine, I can do with them what I want. And I want you to give them to your wife. Now you can either take them home or leave them here on the desk to wither away, I don’t care.”

  The next day when Liz came out of the rehearsal hall, a man stepped away from the building and caught her arm.

  “Let go of me.”

  “I sent you a lovely bouquet of flowers. Is this any way to show your appreciation?”

  She shook her arm free of him. “Who are you, some kind of crazed fan stalking me?” she asked, her voice chilly.

  “I need information.”

  He was unshaven and unkempt, wearing a worn leather jacket and ragged jeans and Liz’s apprehension went up exponentially. “I can’t imagine what I could possibly know that would be of value to you.”

  “Where’s your sister?”

  A chill washed over her. It came back to Liz then. The email her mother had written her saying that Kate had got mixed up with a man who wouldn’t let her go.

  “I have no idea where my sister is.”

  “I can’t believe that. You two have always kept in touch. She told me that herself.”

  “That may have been true before she got involved with you. But once you came along, she cut off all communication with me. I can see why. She didn’t want you to come after me.”

  “Tell me where she is.”

  “When pigs fly,” Liz shot back at him.

  “I’ll make you tell me…”

  “I say, Miss Liz. Is this chap bothering you?” It was Milton. Hunter’s black limo idled at the curb. “I was just out retrieving the limo from servicing when I spotted you. You seem to be having a bit of trouble with this gentleman.”

  “He’s no gentleman,” Liz muttered.”

  “Sir, I suggest that you step away from this lady and go about your business.”

  “And I suggest you mind your own.” Peter Cardwell took a threatening step toward Milton. Without so much as a flicker of an eyelash giving away his intention, Milton planted a sweet left uppercut on Cardwell’s jaw. The man staggered back and tripped over a fire hydrant which sent him sprawling on his back in the gutter.

  “Should I summon a gendarme, Miss Farnsworth?”

  Liz felt a nervous laugh bubble up inside her. Milton was so very English. Wherever Kate was, she didn’t want Kate to know about this. It might bring her out of whatever hiding place she’d found.

  “That won’t be necessary, Milton. I believe Mr. Cardwell is exactly where he needs to be.”

  A ghost of a smile touched Milton’s lips. “Would you like me to take you to your apartment?”

  “Yes, please. But Milton, you have to promise me something.”

  “Anything, Miss.”

  “You have to promise not to say anything to Hunter about what just happened.”

  “I have an agreement with my employer. No secrets, no lying.”

  “Promise me, Milton.”

  He was silent. He didn’t promise. But maybe he’d wait a day or two before he informed Hunter about her brush with Peter Cardwell.

  She sighed. “Can you at least wait a couple of days before you tell him?’

  “It’s possible the subject might not come up right away.”

  “Thank you, Milton.”

  But later, after she’d showered, had a peanut butter sandwich and sat on her couch studying her script, her doorbell rang.

  It wasn’t like Marco to let someone up without calling her first. That meant it must be Hunter.

  She opened the door, bracing herself for a lecture from Hunter about strange men accosting her on the street.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he said.

  “Which I think might be roughly equivalent to tilting the earth on its axis.” She took his coat and hung it in the closet. Milton must have kept his word. Hunter did not have the look of a man whose lover had been grabbed by a strange man.

  “I’m not that bad.”

  It was hard to shift gears and pretend they were having a light conversation, but she was an actress, wasn’t she? “Yes, you are.”

  “Will you stop annoying me with insults to my character and listen to what I have to say?”

  “Aye, aye, sir. Annoyance stopping, listening starting.”

  Man, he’d missed her. He’d missed the way she could answer him back with that saucy little smile. He’d missed the way she treated him with complete irreverence. He’d missed the way she looked, especially like this, her hair up in a messy bun, her t-shirt nicely fitted across her breasts, her legs encased in long black leggings. This time, he was not letting her get away from him.

  Liz could smell his aftershave, see the nice cotton shirt with rolled up sleeves, a row of buttons marching down the front and know there was a wicked scar underneath, she could look at those jeans encasing those long legs and remember what that denim contained. She hadn’t seen him for nearly a month and her eyes hungered for the sight of him. He seemed unwilling to look at her, which was probably a good thing because she’d just spent the last three hours waltzing and she looked like hell.

  She’d laughed. Laughing was good. If he didn’t look at her, maybe he could get the speech he’d planned out of his mouth without dragging her into his arms and kissing the life out of her.

  “I’ve decided that if you wanted to date, we could…date. That is, if you’re still open to the idea.”

  She wondered just how far she could push him. “Nows not a good time for me, Hunter. I’m in rehearsals for a new show. I’m under a lot of pressure. I suppose we could go out for dinner occasionally, but there couldn’t be any sex involved.”

  The look of disbelief on his face nearly made her laugh. “Who made up that rule?’

  “I did,” she said. “We need time to get to know one another.”

  “I thought we already knew ea
ch other quite well.”

  “Hunter. You know what I mean.”

  “Okay.” He hadn’t planned on abstinence. But he’d had abstinence for the last three weeks without seeing her and that was worse.

  “I have to study my script tonight. I made some stupid mistakes today and that can’t happen again. I need to go over what I did wrong now while it’s fresh in my mind. So here’s the deal. Tomorrow’s Sunday and I have the day off. I’ll put myself at your disposal.” When his eyes flashed over her, she said “Not that kind of disposal. I just meant if you wanted to plan the day, say starting at one o’clock, I’ll be glad to meet you somewhere and we’ll go from there. A couple of stipulations, though. No riding around in the limo. We’re either hoofing it or we’re taking a taxi like normal people.”

  “Has anybody ever told you you’re a hard, hard woman…along with having a significant amount of crazy in your brain?”

  “Not recently. Call me around noon so I know what to wear.”

  Back in his apartment, Hunter picked up his cell phone. “Alex, I need help. I have to plan a day in the city with Liz. I can’t use the limo. We have to walk or take a taxi.”

  “You’re asking me what to do in New York City? I live in Rochester, remember?” There was silence on the line and then Alex said, “Is the weather good?”

  “It’s autumn in New York. The weather’s beautiful.”

  “How about taking her to the High Line?”

  “What the hell is the High Line?”

  “How long have you lived in the city? Never mind. It’s a section of elevated railroad line that the city has turned into a park. It’s about a mile walk. You should be able to manage that, shouldn’t you, old man? Look it up on the internet. And try taking her blindfolded up the stairs. Women love that shit.”

  Hunter laughed and hung up. A search on the internet told him that the High Line began at Gansevoort. They could take a taxi there, fulfilling one of Liz’s requirements. He sent Liz a text to wear jeans, a light jacket and sneakers. Then he made his plans.

  When his taxi pulled up in front of her apartment building, here she came dressed casually in denim pants, a sunny yellow shirt, a light khaki jacket tied around her waist and her feet in pink sneakers. With her hair in a ponytail, she looked about sixteen.

  “Hi,” she said. It was a bit awkward, seeing him again, after having been away from him for so long. She felt restless and nervous and not quite sure what lay ahead for her. Correction. What lay ahead for them. On top of that there was the instant leap of feminine awareness telling her that this man was her lover, a most expert and exciting lover. A lover she had lain awake in her bed at night missing with an ache in all the wrong places. “You haven’t told me where we’re going,” Liz said, trying for a cheerful tone.

  “Nor am I going to.” Even his voice aroused her. He brought out one of his expensive ties. She recognized it because it was gray. “Will you let me blindfold you?”

  “Blindfold me? I don’t think this was part of the bargain.” She sounded faintly anxious and put her hands up to fend off the tie he held in front of her.

  “You trust me, don’t you?” He wanted to kiss her to allay her anxiety, but he was more interested to see if, after these weeks apart, she still trusted him enough for this.

  “Yes, of course, but I…”

  Before she could say anything more, he wrapped the tie over her eyes and tied it tightly in the back. She hadn’t really given him permission to blindfold her, but he was undoubtedly clever enough to know that once the deed was done, her pride would keep her from protesting and snatching the tie off her eyes. “Comfortable?”

  “I’d be a lot more comfortable if I knew exactly what you have in mind. I’m not sure I like this, Hunter.”

  She smelled his slight scent of masculine aftershave and then felt his mouth on hers. “I have a reason for doing this.”

  When the taxi started up, she said, “You didn’t tell him where to go.”

  “He already knows.”

  “Oh, this is a conspiracy from the get go. I’m not going to end up in little pieces floating in the Hudson River, am I?”

  He leaned over to murmur in her ear, “No. I’m hoping you’ll end up shattering in little pieces in my bed.”

  While she worked to contain the rise of sexual arousal his dark words gave her, she tried to guess where they were headed. She wasn’t all that familiar with New York except the theater district. She thought she’d concealed her nervousness from Hunter, but she must not have succeeded, for Hunter covered her hands where they lay twisted in her lap with his own warm ones.

  After what she assumed was about a twenty minute ride, the taxi slowed and stopped. “Are we there? Can I take off the blindfold?”

  “Not yet.”

  How was it possible that she was nervous and blindfolded and sexually aroused all at once?

  After they exited from the taxi, she moved to take off the blindfold, but Hunter caught her hand. “Not yet.”

  “I’m beginning not to like you.”

  “That’s a temporary situation…I hope.” Hunter placed a cold rail under her right hand and kept a firm hold on her left. “We’re going up stairs now, sweets.”

  “I have to do this blindfolded?”

  “This from the woman who walked out on a high bridge wearing a hoop skirt?”

  “I could see then,” she retorted, “well, more or less.” She did trust Hunter, but at the same time, she felt a little foolish. She could hear people around her and almost feel their curiosity. “Are people looking at us?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Well, mostly looking at you because you’re so cute in your pink sneakers.” He wore jeans and a t-shirt under a light leather jacket and had dark glasses covering his eyes. He wasn’t generally recognized and Liz probably wouldn’t be either, as casually dressed as she was. “Just a few more steps, my lovely.”

  “I’d be rather panicked, and think you were leading me into a deep dark dungeon, except I can tell we’re outside.”

  “Look at you. A regular Hercule Poirot.”

  “Oh, yeah. Where’s Agatha Christie when I need her?”

  Liz could feel the sun on her face and the light breeze. Being blindfolded seemed to make her other senses come to life. She could hear the brush of leather as Hunter walked up the stairs with her. “There’s a landing here,” he said, and then, “now we’re at the stairs again.”

  The sun felt warm and glorious on this fall day. “Are we there yet?” She knew she sounded like a small child. She could feel his hands behind her head, untying his tie.

  A wonderland of trees lining a lovely path through an ancient elevated railway filled her eyes. Black-eyed Susan flowers waved their heads in a sunshiny greeting. There were tall city buildings all around this oasis of green. She understood now why he had blindfolded her. To come from darkness into the sight of this astounding woodland raised up in the middle of the city was incredible.

  “Hunter, this is absolutely beautiful. Where are we?”

  “We’re at the High Line Park, love.”

  Tall birch trees in beautiful shades of green mingled with red bud trees.

  “Hunter. Do you know how wonderful this is to be submersed in nature after being shut away in a darkened theater?” She twirled around on the path like a child. “I had no idea this oasis of plant life existed in the middle of the city. How high are we?”

  He caught her in his arms, pulling her close to his side. “What do you think I am, a walking encyclopedia?” he teased.

  Liz tightened her grip around his waist, her fingers grasping the leather. “I know you, Hunter Cameron and I know you wouldn’t have brought me here without doing your research.”

  “Okay. Here’s the short version. We’re three stories above the street. This is a defunct elevated railway that the Westside residents wanted torn down. Two guys, Joshua David and Robert Hammond, residents in the neighborhood, climbed up to take a look and discovered the abandoned railway
had been taken over by wildflowers. Funding was raised, and the railway was saved to be repurposed as a green oasis that runs from here to the old meat-packing plant in Chelsea. Since then benches have been added, and water features.”

  She couldn’t take it all in. Hunter said it had been carefully landscaped to look wild. There were purple blossoms and blue blossoms and tall prairie grasses. They walked along, hand in hand, cars passing under them on the city street below. The park was filled with people out to enjoy a sunny autumn day. A girl child with chubby legs splashed in the few inches of moisture flowing in the water feature, her face wreathed in smiles. On the upper level, in the sun garden, people lounged on chaise chairs especially designed to blend into the landscape and face the sun.

  Two boys balanced on the train tracks embedded in the concrete, pretending they were walking on a high wire.

  Liz bubbled with excitement, pointing out this tree, that flower. Hunter thought he’d have to give Alex a bonus for suggesting this.

  When Liz reached the xylophone benches, she turned to Hunter, her face alight. “We need to bring the Orff class here.”

  “With two chaperones for each kid,” Hunter said dryly.

  “That could be arranged.”

  To Liz, it was heaven to be out walking along this pathway, enjoying the sun, the breezes, the people passing by, knowing they didn’t care whether the theater used blue light or yellow light in scene ten. Best of all, it was lovely to be out in the open with Hunter. “I think this is the end of the line,” Hunter said, as they came to the 34th street entrance.

  “Can’t we walk back to where we started?”

  It delighted him to think she didn’t want their time there to end. “This is your day. We can do whatever you want to do.”

  She caught his hand and without thinking said, “I love this. It’s so wonderful. Thank you, Hunter.”

  Chapter 16

  Inside Hunter’s condo, Liz said, “What a terrific afternoon. Thank you so much for planning it, Hunter.” She climbed up on the stool behind Hunter’s kitchen bar. “I like this restaurant best of all. What’s on the menu?”