He grunted and crumpled up the wrapper from his sandwich. “So, what else?”
She shrugged and wrapped up the second half of her sandwich, saving it for dinner. “I have it all planned out. I’ve even told Carl how he should propose.”
Lincoln had bent over to pick up the rest of their trash, but froze with those words. “You…told…your soon-to-be fiancé how to propose to you?” he asked, his words coming out a bit choked.
She shifted in her chair, her chin lifting slightly. “Yes. Why?”
There was a long silence as Lincoln stared at her. “And he agreed?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Because men don’t like to be bossed around?”
She humphed. “Well, Carl is different,” she said, smiling. “He’s…nice.”
Lincoln stared silently at her.
“It’s true!” she defended. “Carl is a very nice man. He listens to me. He cares about what I want.”
“Right down to how he proposes, I guess,” he chuckled. Standing up, he tossed the apple core into the long grass along the edge of his property, giving it to the birds.
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” she countered.
He picked up both chairs with one hand, carrying them back into the building. “Kinsley, if you want a man who obeys your every command, then more power to you.”
Lincoln heard her make a sound that indicated that she disagreed. A moment later, she rushed in front of him. “I get it. You’re a control freak. But don’t denigrate other men when they are willing to follow a woman’s guidance. Especially a man who is in love with a woman.”
He rolled his eyes. “Kinsley, you aren’t dating a man. You’re dating a lap dog.”
She gasped. “You don’t even know him!”
He shrugged and put his hand on the door for a moment before pulling the door open. “You’re right. I don’t know him.”
“Exactly!” she replied, feeling vindicated, although she had no idea why. Lincoln made Carl sound like a wimp. But Kinsley preferred that kind of a man; someone who was considerate of her feelings and was willing to follow her lead and guidance.
If there was a part of her that wished that Carl would be a bit more assertive in some instances, well, she just considered that aspect of his personality to be part of the tradeoff that she’d have to endure in her life. Marriage was all about compromise. And Carl might be less assertive in some areas, but he was very kind and generous in other aspects of their relationship.
“I’ll bring lunch tomorrow,” he called after her as she headed for her office.
She hesitated for a moment and, was that joy on her features? Lincoln wasn’t sure, but the idea of sharing lunch with her again tomorrow seemed disproportionately…exciting.
“Fine!” She replied, her features transforming into a smile. And then she was gone.
Chapter 5
“So, do you have the menu picked out?” Lincoln asked the following day as he carried the chairs out to the spot where they’d eaten the day before. He put the chairs down while she held the bag of food.
“Of course I do!” she laughed. “I even know where we’re having the wedding.”
She said that as if he was an idiot for asking. “And does Carl know about this plan?”
She sat down in the chair, handing him back the bag. He pulled out two wax paper wrapped sandwiches, handing one to her, and a jug of lemonade.
“Well, sure! Why wouldn’t he know?”
He poured her a glass of the lemonade. “So, let me get this straight. You have the wedding all planned, and yet, you won’t allow Carl,” he said the name with distaste, “to propose to you until June.”
“Exactly,” she replied, a cute little frown on her pretty features. “I want to be married in April,” she explained patiently, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a bite. He paused while she closed her eyes, savoring the flavors. “Oh my! This is delicious. What is it?”
“I made roast beef last night,” he explained, relaxing now that he knew she liked it. He’d contemplated lunch options all evening, finally settling on roast beef. As soon as he’d come up with the idea, he’d marinated the beef, then slow cooked the meat with a sous vide. Because of the thickness of the roast, it had taken almost four hours to cook, but the results had definitely been worthwhile. Also, seeing the happiness on her face made his efforts worth every moment.
“Don’t change the subject,” he replied. “If you have everything planned, why is it going to take you ten months to plan this fateful event?”
“Because that’s how long it takes. There are dress fittings and…”
“You haven’t picked out your wedding dress?”
She took another bite, closing her eyes and groaning with appreciation of the tender meat and the spicy sauce he’d made. “This really is amazing!”
“Answer the question. It’s hanging in your closet, isn’t it?”
She nodded, shifting so that she was more comfortable in her chair. “Of course I bought my dress.”
“But you haven’t gotten it hemmed and…whatever else a fitting might require?”
She took a long sip of the lemonade and smiled. “I hemmed it last year. It’s the perfect length for the shoes I bought.”
He paused, frowning at her as if she’d just said something crazy. Which, in his mind, she had. “Okay, so you have the dress, you have the shoes and the dress is hemmed. What dress fittings might be required?”
“I don’t know, Lincoln” she sighed with irritation. There was more color to her cheeks now, a rosy glow that hadn’t been there before. “But I’m not taking any chances. I don’t like to be rushed. So if there are any alterations needed, I want to have enough time to wear the dress perfect.”
He took another bite of his sandwich, then handed her a fork. “Isn’t the dress already perfect?”
She rolled her eyes. “Men!”
“What am I missing?” He pulled out a container of potato salad, the kind with chives and vinegar.
“A woman dreams about her wedding all her life!” she huffed, as if he should already know this.
“Not every woman, but go ahead.”
She tilted her head, conceding her point. “Maybe not all women. But I have. And I just want things to be perfect.”
“And having a dress that doesn’t fit would make the whole event imperfect?”
“Of course it would. A dress that doesn’t fit means that I’m focusing on how uncomfortable my dress is. I’d much rather focus on having a good time with the wedding guests.”
“And Carl,” he pointed out.
She blinked. “What?”
“And Carl,” he repeated. “You’ll want to focus on Carl on your wedding day too. Not just your wedding guests, right?”
“Oh!” she shrugged dismissively. “Yes. Of course. That goes without saying.”
That was a very revealing comment, Lincoln thought, relaxing now that he understood more about her relationship with her almost-fiance…and his muscles tightened again at the realization that the lovely and heretofore unattainable Kinsley wasn’t quite so unattainable. “How many people will attend your wedding?”
She sighed. “I think that it shouldn’t go over two hundred and fifty guests. Anything larger and I wouldn’t be able to greet everyone.”
“And greeting all of the wedding guests is important?”
She shot him an odd look. “Of course. Many of my relatives will have come from a long way away. I can’t have a party and not greet them properly.”
He downed the last of his lemonade, then refilled his glass, topping hers off as well.
“What would happen if you didn’t greet everyone?”
She gave him another curious look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because maybe Carl,” he said the name as if it disgusted him, “would like a bit of your attention.”
Kinsley waved that aside. “Carl will understand. I’ll let him know before the
wedding what the appropriate etiquette is at a wedding reception.”
“What if he disagrees?”
Kinsley laughed. “Carl is a very easy going man. He doesn’t disagree with me.”
“I would,” Lincoln commented, then pulled out a box of chocolates. “Here. Dessert.”
“You bought chocolates for dessert?” she gasped, obviously delighted. “I don’t let chocolate into my house,” she told him.
“Why not?” he asked, waiting patiently while she selected one of the dark chocolates.
“Because I’d eat them all in one night,” Kinsley admitted. “Chocolates are my Achilles heel.” She paused to gaze lovingly at the chocolate, nibbling on the beautifully decorated treat. “Oh my! This is delicious!” She closed her eyes, savoring the confection. A moment later, she opened her eyes and looked at him. “What would you disagree with?”
He shrugged and leaned back, popping another chocolate into his mouth, eating it whole without savoring it, or even appearing to appreciate the artistry of the piece.
“Seems to me that you have everything ass-backwards.”
“Don’t be crude.” She selected another. “Explain.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You think that ‘ass-backward’ is crude?”
She sighed heavily, waving her hand. “Fine. It’s just normal, everyday language. What about my plans would you disagree with?”
“All of it. The wedding dress, for one.”
“What’s wrong with my wedding dress?” she demanded, sitting up straighter.
Lincoln lifted an eyebrow, then nudged the chocolates closer. She selected another, nibbling on it to make it last longer. “Well, first of all, I wouldn’t want to see the wedding dress until my wife-to-be is walking down the aisle towards me.”
“Really?” she stared at him.
He shrugged and nodded. “Sure. It’s sort of a thing with men. We want a bit of surprise.”
“Surprise?”
“It’s just like lingerie.”
She made a sort of squeaking sound that Lincoln thought was cute. Sort of sexy too, in an odd way. “Sure. Men love naked women. But when we’re taking off her clothes, we really love the surprise of lingerie.”
“But…the lingerie just comes off. Fast. There’s no point in wearing pretty lingerie when the man doesn’t even pause to enjoy the effort.”
He looked at her with an interested expression as he tamped down on the lust. Just the thought of seeing Kinsley in something soft and lacy made his body burn! “I suppose that the lovers in your past haven’t paused to appreciate you in sexy lingerie?”
“That’s…” she squirmed, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “Well, go on. I’m more interested in your point.”
He was more interested in her perspectives on lingerie, but he’d hold off on that for another day. “It’s just a surprise. A woman can be wearing a plain old sweatshirt and baggy jeans. But if a man is looking at her, he’s wondering what’s underneath.” He looked out at the view of the mountains, ensuring that he never glanced her way. Even though he’d often wondered what she wore underneath her prim slacks or skirts. She was always so neatly dressed, he was certain that she wore something sexy underneath. Hell, he’d even like it if she wore those cotton panties! Over the past few weeks of working with Kinsley, he’d come to the realization that he was completely fascinated by everything she did. He loved watching her walk and he loved talking with her. But there was more. He loved wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Would she be prim and delicate? Or voracious?
Either way, he’d like it. Too much, probably.
“So you’re saying that a groom cares about the first glimpse of his bride in her wedding dress?”
“Hell yes!”
She blinked at his adamant response. “But…Carl wouldn’t care.”
“Then he can’t be that interested in marrying you.” He firmly believed it, but suddenly worried that he’d hurt her feelings.
Thankfully, she wasn’t hurt. His abrupt comment only caused her to smile and lean back in her chair, sipping the lemonade as they appreciated the clear view of Mount Rainier. “Carl cares,” she asserted with absolute confidence.
“If he’s already seen the dress, then I guess he must not mind. I mean, if the dress is in your closet, then he’s definitely seen it.”
That assumption pulled her eyes away from the majestic view of the mountain. “Why would he run into my dress all the time?”
He frowned at her in confusion. “Do you have separate closets then? I thought you lived in an apartment.”
“I do,” she confirmed with a nod.
“Then how is he not seeing your wedding dress all the time?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “He doesn’t live with me, of course.”
Lincoln paused, still staring at her. “He…doesn’t?” That seemed…off. “But…when he spends the night, wouldn’t he…”
She shook her head, her dark, silky hair wafting around her neck. “He doesn’t spend the night.”
He grunted, popping another chocolate into his mouth. “I’m not sure I understand your relationship.”
Unfortunately, his cell phone rang. Not many people had this phone number, so if his cell phone rang, it was important. “I’ve got to get this. But this conversation isn’t over,” he told her and stepped away to take the call.
Kinsley collected the remnants of their lunch, smiling as she packed everything away. Conversations were always exciting with Lincoln Meyers, she thought as she closed the lid on the potato salad. It took a great deal of effort to keep up with him, but Kinsley was discovering that she really enjoyed the challenge.
She paused as she closed the lid to the chocolates, admiring the beautiful truffles. They were all carefully crafted, small works of art. But…why had Lincoln brought these to their lunch? They looked special. And expensive! Surely he’d just packed up a lunch with supplies that he kept in his house. He hadn’t gone out and bought these chocolates.
The idea that Lincoln had bought the chocolates for another woman came to mind, and the idea actually hurt. The stab of pain was like an ice pick to her chest and she paused in her clean up, trying to figure out why she would be so upset at the idea of Lincoln with another woman. Surely he was dating someone. She looked over at him. The man was still talking on the phone, but she could see his strong profile. He really was a shockingly attractive man. Rugged, muscular and…still with those silver, gold-flecked eyes that never ceased to fascinate her.
But that was too complicated and Lincoln sounded as if he were about to finish his phone call. The confusing feelings meant that she needed to retreat. She needed to work through the reasons as to why she was so hurt before she could talk to him again.
So, Kinsley stuffed everything back into the paper bag, then grabbed both chairs with her other hand. It was awkward, but he’d done this yesterday, so surely she could do it today.
“Kinsley, I’ll get the chairs. Just leave them.”
Kinsley glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m fine,” she assured him, then carried everything towards the building.
Chapter 6
The gruff old man stood by the window, drink in hand, and blinked in shock as Francesa Winward stepped through the ornate doors of his office.
“You’re Frankie Winward?” he demanded, the drink sloshing slightly as he gestured. His rheumy eyes taking in her red-copper curls, pale skin and a figure a Victoria’s Secret model would kill for…except she didn’t have the height. But the lush breasts, tiny waist and long, slender legs? Check, check, check! She also had an attitude that warned the world that she didn’t put up with stupidity…and that only added to her appeal.
Edward Meyers stared at the woman, unconsciously licking his lips. Five years ago…well, maybe twenty years ago…this woman would have been his! He would have made this woman his mistress! Damn, he hated being old! He hated the cancer that was eating away at his brain! He hated the fact that this beauti
ful, redheaded goddess was a private investigator, and not his personal assistant to control and manipulate!
Setting the glass down on his desk, he ignored the stabbing pain in his head and moved to sit behind his desk. At least if he had his desk in front of him, he’d look important and dignified, he thought.
“So, you’re the private investigator that my acquaintances have been raving about, hmm?” he commented, shifting his slight body in the massive leather chair. He let his eyes move up and down her figure. Damn, twenty years!
Frankie smiled, enjoying his reaction even if she was a bit stunned by the sight of the frail man sitting behind the huge, scratched wooden desk. At one point, that desk might have been a symbol of power. But over the years, it had been beaten down by…whatever had caused those deep gouges. Now, it was like the man; worn and ragged with age and bitterness.
Still, the man was obviously sick. Plus, he was an elderly man, well into his eighties now. She’d always loved talking to senior citizens. They had so much to offer, so many stories to tell. They were fascinating, and she respected anyone who had made it in this world so long.
“At your service, Mr. Meyers,” she said and moved further into the elegant office. The furniture was expensive, but old fashioned. Everything was made from heavy wood, polished and…ritzy. No, that wasn’t the right word, she thought as she moved towards the man. It might have been ritzy back in the seventies. Now it just looked…old.
The man sputtered. Surprise? Outrage? Possibly. Frankie knew that most people in her profession were male. Being a female private investigator threw people initially.
“But…you’re a girl!”
Frankie smirked, shrugging her shoulders in the leather jacket that was her normal uniform these days. Tee shirt, jeans, and her leather jacket. Normally, she pulled her wild, red curls into a ponytail, but she hadn’t bothered today, feeling a bit more…carefree.
“Can you tell me why you need a private investigator, Mr. Meyers?” She asked, trying to keep the sarcasm from her tone. As much as she liked the surprise, there was something about the way his eyes kept sliding over her figure that bothered her. She tried to be polite and respectful, but that had to be a two way street.
One More Kiss (Forsaken Sons Book 1) Page 4
