One More Kiss (Forsaken Sons Book 1)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  Frankie smiled. “I understand. I have to maintain client confidentiality in my line of work,” she said, but then grinned. “But I swear to you, one day, I’m going to write a memoir, changing the names, of course. If the world knew some of the things that I’ve been hired to find or do, it would make people…well, laugh and cry and,” she grinned, “probably call the police.”

  “Really?” Kinsley asked, laughing despite herself. Frankie was just that kind of woman. She made people feel good just by being around her. “Can you tell me some of the stories? Without revealing anyone’s identity?”

  Frankie leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling with what could only be described as mischief. “Well, there are the normal cases. Such as the guy who wanted to find his high school sweetheart. He was recently divorced, but was convinced that the woman he’d been in love with back in high school was the love of his life. But when I finally located her, he had to accept that she was madly in love with her husband and was happily raising two kids.”

  “Oh, how tragic.”

  Frankie shrugged. “Not really. When they finally connected, he asked if she would have lunch with him. When they finally sat down and started talking, he remembered why they’d broken up. She wasn’t the woman he’d created in his mind and, when he figured that out, he went to therapy. Wanting to find this other woman was more about the poor guy trying to get over his divorce than it was about trying to reconnect with a past love.”

  Kinsley smiled with understanding. “I remember my high school boyfriend.”

  Frankie laughed, her mouth twisting with the memories. “Me too. But I also remember why it didn’t work out.”

  Kinsley wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Me too. Never go back,” she muttered, taking a long, delicious sip of her coffee. For the next hour, the two of them chatted about anything and everything. And for a long time, Kinsley forgot that Frankie was one of the most stunning women she’d ever met. Frankie was down to earth and friendly. Plus, despite some of the more outrageous things that people had tried to hire her to do over the years, she still maintained that humanity was basically good and wonderful. Such optimism was delightful.

  As Kinsley drove away later, she remembered that Frankie had asked Kinsley if she could set up a meeting with Lincoln to discuss his father. And that reminded her that Lincoln owed her a story about that same father.

  Kinsley sat in her car for a long moment, wondering what she might do next. It was still Saturday morning and she didn’t really want to crochet anymore. Her apartment was clean, her laundry done, and she didn’t feel like cooking, so that was out.

  She could swing by work and finish that report on expenses, she thought. And maybe Lincoln would be there. She could talk to him and …!

  Kinsley blinked, paused at a red light as the realization for why she was in such a bad mood hit her.

  Oh good grief! She missed him! Kinsley looked around, stunned that the reason she was so melancholy this morning was because she hadn’t seen Lincoln! She missed the man and…she hadn’t thought about Carl all day.

  What did that say about her? What did that mean?

  But she loved Carl. Didn’t she?

  If she loved Carl so much, why was she constantly thinking about Lincoln? Why was she dreaming about doing naughty things with Lincoln and not Carl? She’d never had a sexual fantasy about Carl. And yet, she’d dreamed about Lincoln almost every night since she’d started this job!

  Kinsley wasn’t even aware of where she was going until she pulled up to the gate outside the work area.

  Stepping out of her car, she walked into the building and, instead of going to her office, she pushed through the door that separated Lincoln’s work space. Sure enough, he was at one of his worktables, tinkering away.

  But as soon as she stepped through the door, he turned and smiled at her. “What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

  Kinsley shrugged. “I’m not sure.” She paused and looked at him. He appeared just as tired as she felt. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

  He shrugged and picked up a screwdriver, putting it back on the shelf. “Not really. Just…thinking about things.”

  “Dinner last night was nice,” she lied.

  Lincoln laughed. “No, it wasn’t. Your boyfriend was pissed at me. And rightly so.”

  “Why was he right to be upset?”

  Lincoln didn’t answer. Instead, he sighed and turned to face her, a stubborn look in his silver-and-yellow eyes. “Why are you here?’ he asked again.

  Kinsley wasn’t sure, other than she really wanted to see him today. He was…addictive. Their conversations were always so interesting and challenging and…and she loved talking with him! But there was no way she could tell him that! Instead, she changed the subject. “You owe me a story.”

  “I do?” he asked, picking though several different sized pliers. “What story?”

  “The story about your father.”

  He turned back to his worktable, but he didn’t start tinkering again. Instead, he simply placed the tools on the wooden table and looked up at her. “There isn’t much to tell. My mother never really talked about my father. She used to tell me that he was wealthy. Not just well off or financially secure, but really wealthy. As soon as my mother mentioned that she was pregnant with me, he kicked her out of the apartment he’d bought for her, told her to abort me, and never spoke to her again. He gave her money for the abortion, of course.”

  “That’s horrible!” she gasped, coming closer, leaning against the worktable nearest to him. “Do you know who he is?” she asked, thinking of Frankie and her request to introduce Lincoln to his father.

  “Yeah. She told me his name.” He sighed, toying with the screwdriver. “Edward Meyers. He’s some sort of shipping guy.”

  Kinsley recognized the name, maybe from a news article or perhaps the man had attended some society function.

  She eyed him carefully, trying to understand Lincoln’s strange mood. “What did you do when you realized who he was?”

  Those big, broad, amazing shoulders shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. The man didn’t want to know me growing up. Hell, he wanted to get rid of me. So I don’t want to have anything to do with the man now.”

  Kinsley bit her lip, thinking back to the conversation with Frankie.

  Lincoln caught the look in her eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

  Kinsley cringed. “I might have done something really stupid, Linc,” she admitted grimly.

  His eyes narrowed and his whole body became very still. “Did you talk about what I’m doing here?” he asked, his voice low and almost frightening.

  Kinsley gasped, immediately shaking her head. “No! Absolutely not! Never!”

  He seemed to relax a little, his hands braced against the wooden workbench. “Okay, so what did you do?”

  She licked her dry lips, shifting nervously. “A private investigator contacted me. She knew I worked for you and….”

  The tension was back in his shoulders. “Did she ask you what I did here?”

  Kinsley rolled her eyes. “No!” she huffed with impatience. “I understand the need for secrecy here. And besides, I don’t really know what you’re doing here. So there’s no way I could tell anyone.” She looked over at the other worktables. “For all I know, you’re putting screws and lug nuts into odd shapes and calling it a project. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to result in anything.”

  He laughed, leaning against the table, but his eyes were still alert. “Okay, so what did this private investigator say?”

  “She said your father is looking for you and wants to meet with you. She’s not even sure if he’s your father. She asked me if you would be willing to submit a DNA sample.”

  “No!” he replied forcefully, shaking his head with vehemence. “Not a chance.”

  “But…what if Edward Meyers really is your father?”

  Lincoln tossed the screwdriver onto the table. “I don’t care if he is my father. I don’t wa
nt to get to know him.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Kinsley, he told my mother to abort me. He kicked her onto the street. Thankfully, she never quit her job, so when he kicked her out, she was still able to support us. But the guy is an absolute ass and I don’t want to have anything to do with him.”

  She let his words hang in the air for a brief moment. But Kinsley was nothing if not stubborn. “What if he regrets pushing you away?”

  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kinsley, he didn’t push me away. He ordered my mother to get rid of me. He gave her money to accomplish that task and then he brushed her aside, as if she were yesterday’s trash.”

  She visibly cringed, but soldiered on. “Okay, that sounds really bad, but….”

  He shook his head, putting a hand up in the air, stopping whatever argument she might offer next. “No, Kinsley. I know that you’re one of those softhearted people who think that the world should all sing a happy song together. But that’s simply not going to happen between me and my father.”

  She lifted her hands in the air, pleading with him. “You don’t even know what he wants. Maybe he has a lot of money he wants to give you.”

  He laughed harshly. “Kinsley, look around. Do I look like I’m hurting for money?”

  She thought about his beautiful house perched high up on the hill. She thought of the stunning views that he could see from just about every angle of his house. “No. No, you definitely are not hurting for money. But….”

  “No,” interrupted, slicing his hand through the air. “I’m sorry. But there’s nothing Edward Meyers can say or do to make up for decades of neglect.”

  “What if he didn’t know that you existed?” she asked, thinking it was a brilliant argument.

  Lincoln stared back at her, his dragon eyes clearly conveying that he didn’t believe that for a moment. “He knew. My mother told him. In fact, I found several letters she’d tried to mail him over the years. They were all returned, unopened.”

  Okay, that was bad. Kinsley couldn’t come up with any other arguments. “Right,” she sighed, defeated for the moment. “Fine. I’ll let Frankie know that you’re not interested in anything your father has to say.”

  “Good. And tell this Frankie guy not to even tell my father where I live. I don’t want him showing up on my doorstep.”

  “That’s a good point,” she replied with a grin. “I’ll pass on the information.”

  He smiled back at her, still shaking his head. “You do that.” He inhaled deeply, rubbing his hands together. “Just so you know, we’re not working today.”

  She blinked up at him, startled by the abrupt change in his demeanor. “We’re not?”

  “Nope. It’s cloudy, but it’s always cloudy here. Seattle isn’t known for sunny days.”

  “True.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “You,” he emphasized with a mischievous glint to those dragon eyes, “are going to learn to ride a motorcycle.”

  Kinsley blinked, startled by the words which were so far beyond what she anticipated, she couldn’t even process them for a long moment.

  When she realized what he’d said, Kinsley laughed, shaking her head. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

  “Why not?” he asked, moving closer.

  “Because,” she gasped, sputtering as she scrambled for a legitimate reason. “Because…!”

  He moved closer, enjoying how flustered she was. Her cheeks were pink and her big, blue eyes wide with terror. “Don’t you trust me?”

  She took a deep breath, and Lincoln moved even closer. He could smell her hair again. Damn, he was becoming attuned to her scent!

  “No!” she laughed. “I don’t trust anyone who thinks it is a good idea to get on a motorcycle.”

  He laughed again. “You’re going to love it. And you don’t need to go as fast as I drove. We’ll take it easy.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not doing it,” Kinsley replied stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. As if that might reinforce her position.

  It didn’t. Lincoln only grinned at her tenacity. “I’ll make a deal with you.” With those words, he could see her interest.

  “What kind of a deal?”

  Closer still. There was less than a foot of space between them now. “I have to figure out my next project. I need a new idea.” He took her hand and turned, leading her out the side door. “If you’ll let me teach you how to ride a motorcycle, then we’ll take a trip, anywhere you want to go. That will be where I’ll contemplate my next idea.”

  “Anywhere?” she echoed. What was he saying? And why was she letting him lead her out of the workroom? Was she nuts?!

  “Travel,” he clarified with a nod. “Anywhere you want to go. I told you during the interview that I travel a lot. And I’m getting antsy now. I need to go someplace new. Some place that will allow my mind to relax so that I can figure out what I want to work on next.”

  They were outside now, but she peered back through the door that was slowly closing. “But…Lincoln, you have several other projects that you’ve still working on. They are just sitting on those tables, waiting for you to finish them and make them wonderful.”

  He shrugged. “They’ll wait. And besides, they aren’t really interesting me at the moment. I need a new challenge. Something more appealing and different.”

  Despite herself, Kinsley was fascinated. Did she want to learn to drive a motorcycle? Not really. But she couldn’t deny that there was a certain…curiosity. Plus, the idea of traveling to some place new, some place different had appeal. Going some place outside of Seattle was more alluring than she wanted to admit. She so desperately wanted to travel and explore places that weren’t part of this dreary, rainy, cloudy city! She remembered begging her parents to take her some place new for vacation. But their idea of a vacation was a cabin up in the mountains. They’d gone there every year for a week during the summer months. She’d hated that cabin. She’d hated listening to her friends talk about the faraway places that they’d traveled during their summer vacations, leaving her behind all alone with only her books for company.

  “I get to choose the place?” she repeated, not sure she should believe him.

  He nodded, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Anywhere you want to go.”

  He pressed a button and the garage door at the back of the warehouse opened up, revealing the Ducati and several other vehicles. Was that a golf cart? Why in the world would Lincoln need a golf cart? No, it wasn’t a golf cart. It was more of a utility vehicle with a trailer on the back.

  He walked in and brought the motorcycle out of the garage. “Should we do this here? Or down at the track?”

  Kinsley looked off in the distance, then behind her at the relatively short driveway. If she chose the driveway, would this lesson be over more quickly? She certainly hoped so!

  “Here,” she said, nodding her head for emphasis.

  “Good enough.” He leaned the bike against the stand, then went back into the garage, returning with two helmets. “Here, see if this one fits you.”

  She peered at the interior of the helmet, then shrugged, sliding it onto her head. “Its fine,” she told him, thinking that she wouldn’t need it to be on for very long.

  “It needs to fit snuggly,” he explained, adjusting the strap carefully. “If it isn’t snug and secure, then it could come off in an accident.”

  She pulled back, staring up at him. “But there isn’t going to be an accident, is there?” she asked.

  He chuckled again. “We’ll just be driving around here. So, you’ll be relatively safe.”

  She didn’t reply, being fully aware that “relatively safe” wasn’t the same as “Yes, you’ll be perfectly safe!”

  “What if I can’t do this?”

  He took her hand and led her to the bike. “Just trust me, okay?”

  Kinsley sighed, but wasn’t sure she trusted him enough to agree. “I don’t think I trust you that much,�
�� she admitted quietly. His only response was a gentle chuckle.

  “I won’t let you get hurt, okay?”

  She only glared up at him. For the next several minutes, he showed her the various parts of the bike, explaining the brake, the accelerator, the gearshift, and pedals.

  “Okay, hop on,” he told her.

  Kinsley figured that there was no danger in just sitting on the bike. It was easy enough to do. Since she was wearing jeans and a blue sweater today, her hair pulled up into a simple ponytail on the top of her head, there wasn’t any real harm.

  So she swung her leg over the bike and carefully sat down on the bike. A moment later, Lincoln threw his leg over the bike as well, startling her. He settled behind her. She stiffened as he put his hands on her waist.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, glancing over her shoulder at him. But because of the thickness of the helmet, she couldn’t see him, although she could certainly feel the warmth of his legs surrounding her.

  “You’re shorter than me,” he explained softly.

  Goodness, he felt good! “I know that, but…?”

  “This bike is designed for my height, Kinsley. A rider needs to have their feet flat on the ground. You can’t do that.”

  Made sense, but at the moment, she was thinking more about him than the bike. “So, I shouldn’t be driving your bike!”

  He rubbed his thumb along her waist, just a subtle move, but she felt it throughout her whole body. “I’m just here to steady the bike. And trust me, if you start to lose control, I’ll take over and get you back on track.”

  For some reason, that seemed to calm her. Yes, there was the delicious feeling of him pressed against her back and hips. That was distracting. But at the same time, feeling him behind her, knowing that he was right there, ready to take over…that made her feel better. Safer and…okay, more fun.

  “Right. So, what do I do?”

  He pointed to the button to start the engine. “Press that button and,” he put her hands on the handles, “turn this slightly.”

  He went through the steps to start the bike and a moment later, it roared to life underneath her. It was an amazing sensation to feel the power of the bike between her legs. It was…oddly stimulating. Lincoln showed her how to increase the acceleration, put the bike into gear, and…they were off! She was driving the motorcycle! Granted, he was right behind her, his hands on the gears as well, but she was doing it!