REMEMBER ME (Secrets of Spirit Creek Book 1)

by Linda Style

  They stood there for a moment. Linc in his T-shirt and boxer shorts and Tori in a black tank top and red-and-black plaid pajama pants. He wondered if she could possibly be thinking the same thing he was—if she felt the heat, the electricity that seemed to crackle between them.

  Riveted to the spot, he watched her moisten her bottom lip with her tongue, saw her pulse beating in the soft hollow at the base of her throat.

  He couldn’t have moved if he tried.

  ~~~

  She should move away, but Tori couldn’t move a muscle. The very air seemed to hum with expectation. Every place Linc’s skin had touched hers felt on fire. Raw desire ratcheted through her.

  She’d never had such a visceral reaction to a man before. Not even when she and Dylan were first dating. Blood pumped like molten lava through her veins, and if he tried to kiss her, she knew she could no more resist him than she could a box of dark chocolate.

  “I-I like your work,” Linc said, gesturing toward the painting she’d titled Field of Dreams. It had been her first painting after moving to Spirit Creek—a move that put her on her own for the first time since college. She should’ve titled it Free at Last.

  “It’s my favorite.” As she said the words, Linc eased away. Thank heaven. She was beginning to think she didn’t have the sense she was born with. Getting involved with Linc would absolutely be the worst thing she could do. Any kind of relationship would be impossible. No matter how much she might want it.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier,” Linc said.

  “You didn’t,” she shot back. And she didn’t want him to say any more about it. His sensitivity chipped away at her resolve. “You told me how you feel about doing things yourself, and I’m sorry I didn’t respect that.”

  He took her hand. “I know you’ve been through some tough times, too. I just need to cultivate a thicker skin.”

  She pulled back a little, frowned. Tough times? What did he know? How would he—

  “I might be wrong,” he said. “But I felt it in your paintings. As I looked at that last one, I saw something more than just a garden scene. Sort of like coming out of the darkness and into the light.” He took a deep breath. “I felt like it could be me there in the flowers and the light.”

  Tori glanced away. It was almost as if he’d seen into her soul. “I wasn’t thinking about that at the time, but it could’ve been an unconscious thing.”

  “It seems symbolic,” Linc said. “Maybe I saw what I wanted to see and I’m hoping my life is going to be like that.”

  “Art does that. Or it’s supposed to. Each person sees what’s important to them. And I hope your life is going to be like that painting,” she said. With all her heart she did.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You know what?” he added. “You’re amazing.”

  Time suspended. Amazing. No man had ever told her she was amazing. No one had seen into her so completely.

  And that was her cross to bear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  THE NEXT MORNING, Linc popped awake, his head filled with things he wanted to accomplish. Tori had rushed away and left him standing at her studio door last night, but he’d seen a different side of her than before. The real side. The woman she presented to the world and the woman she expressed in her paintings were very different. But he was no art expert or psychologist. All he had to go by was his gut.

  He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He could usually smell coffee by this time. But there was no scent today. He dressed in his usual sweatpants and a T-shirt since Mac was coming later and the exercises were easier to do if his clothes were loose. And he sweated a lot doing them.

  Going to the kitchen, he noticed how quiet it was. Every day since he’d been there, when he awoke Tori was always up and the dogs were usually wandering about outside or snoozing nearby. This morning, the place was quieter than a morgue and it looked like he was alone.

  Glancing around, he saw a post-it note on the island. “Working at the Bean today. See you tonight. Tori. P.S. I’ve got the dogs.”

  Okay, that gave him a half day to do some more research before Mac arrived. The therapy sessions with Mac were intense and always left him in pain, much like the sessions with the shrink, except that was a mental pain. Though he put on a good front for Tori, it was tough to do much afterward.

  After breakfast, he punched in the phone number for a name he’d found yesterday. Tori had given him her ASU online ID so he could look at alumni listings for the years he’d been at ASU. It was a longshot, but he went through the lists anyway on the off chance he might remember one of the names. None looked the least bit familiar, so he finally decided to call every person in his year. Yesterday he’d done the A and B list and most everyone he’d called hadn’t a clue who he was. A couple people said they sort of remembered him, but he could tell they really didn’t since they couldn’t remember anything specific. He’d left his number on several answering machines for people to call him back, but, so far, that was a bust, too.

  Now on the Cs, he listened as the phone rang six times and another answering machine kicked in. He left a message for Brett Cramer, then called the next person on the list. A woman answered. “Hello,” he said. “I’m calling for Zack Crane.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “An old friend from ASU. I’ve been gone for a few years and I’m trying to get in touch with some of the guys. Is Zack around?”

  “No, but he’ll be here this evening. If you’ll give me your name and number, I’ll tell him you called.”

  “Sure. Who is this?” He’d decided he wouldn’t give his real name in case the people he called remembered the trial and might not want to talk to him.

  “This is his wife, Jessica. Jess.”

  “Hi, Jess. Just tell him Mike called. He’ll remember me, I’m sure.” He gave Tori’s number and hoped the woman didn’t ask any more questions.

  He repeated the process with each person he called, giving the same spiel if someone else answered, and leaving a message if an answering machine kicked in. He’d talked to four more alumni, two women and three men. Ready to quit, he decided to call one more person. He scrolled down to the W section and picked a name at random. Jonathan Wilinski. On the third ring, a man said, “Hello.”

  Linc jolted to attention. The voice sounded familiar. When he caught his breath, he said, “Is this Jonathan?”

  “It is. Who’s calling?”

  “Jonathan,” he said, quickly deciding to test his intuition and use his real name. “It’s Linc. Lincoln Crusoe. How are you?”

  The long silence on the other end told Linc the guy might know him, or at least know of him. Finally, he said, “Linc. It’s been a long time.”

  His breath hitched. He forgot what he’d planned to say. “Yeah, it has. So…I guess we have a lot to catch up on. Maybe we could get together to do that?”

  Jonathan cleared his throat. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  The sharpness in Wilinski’s voice could mean one of two things. He knew where Linc had been and didn’t want anything to do with him…or there was bad blood between them. Either way, the guy had knowledge about Linc’s past that he didn’t have. “No. I really need to talk to you about some things.”

  Another long silence. “Not possible. I’m going out of town on business.”

  “If you could just give me a few minutes before—”

  “Why call me?” Wilinski snapped. “Call Zack. He was the one who screwed you over.”

  “Zack.” Did he mean Zack Crane? “Crane is…still around?” Linc asked, hoping he sounded as if he knew who Zack was.

  “Yeah, he’s still around. Call him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear from you. And…don’t call here again.”

  Linc heard a thunk and then the dial tone droned in his ear.

  He dropped the phone into the cradle. Jonathan Wilinski and Zack Crane. Two people who actually knew him—apparently well enough for one not
to want to talk to him.

  Dumbstruck, he simply sat there, letting the reality sink in. Someone knew him, actually remembered him. And he obviously knew about the trial. Zack screwed him over, Wilinski had said. What was that about? Was it about his trial…or something entirely different?

  He got back on the computer and surfed the Internet for every shred of information he could find on both men.

  There was little on Wilinski except an address in the online White Pages. Crane, though, was listed in several links on the Internet. Assuming it was the Zack Crane who’d gone to ASU with Linc and Wilinski, the guy had made a name for himself in business. He appeared in several interviews and articles in the Arizona Business Journal and the Arizona Republic newspaper.

  But if they’d been his friends, where were they when Linc was in prison?

  His head was still reeling when he heard the buzz at the outer gate. Mac. He glanced at the clock. No, it wasn’t even noon. He got up, crutched his way to the speaker and hit the outside talk button. “Who’s there?”

  “I’m here to see Tori,” a male voice said.

  She hadn’t told him she was expecting anyone. “Sorry. She’s not here. If you leave your name, I’ll tell her.”

  After a moment the voice said, “Who are you?”

  Linc didn’t know what Tori wanted to tell people about him, other than he was a friend from school, so he said, “You’ll have to come back.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I don’t,” he lied. He couldn’t give out that kind of information without asking her first. “Are you a friend?”

  “You might say that.”

  Odd that the guy wouldn’t say who he was. “Well, then I suggest you give her a call and talk to her.”

  No answer.

  “If you leave your name, I’ll tell her you were here.”

  Still no answer. Then, after a moment, Linc heard a car door slam, followed by the screech of tires. Whoever it was didn’t like the fact that Tori wasn’t home—or maybe he didn’t like it that she had a man in her house.

  Well, Linc wasn’t crazy about some guy just dropping in to see her. An old boyfriend? Her ex? Neither possibility made Linc feel like jumping for joy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  TORI PULLED into the garage, unable to stop smiling. She couldn’t wait to see Linc. If everything she’d done today went smoothly, Linc could be on a plane for Los Angeles tomorrow. She jumped from the SUV, then let Bruno and Cleo head into the yard to play while it was still light. They’d been cooped up in Serena’s small yard all day with no chance to run.

  “Hello,” she called out on her way into the kitchen from the garage. She sniffed the air, catching a delicious aroma. Roast beef? Whatever it was, her salivary glands took notice. She was starved, but food could wait. First she had to let Linc know, and she couldn’t wait to see his expression when he found out. “Linc?”

  Checking rooms, she went to the family room and saw him through the sliding doors, getting out of the pool. The railing made it easier for him to navigate the steps to get in and out, and she was glad she’d had it installed.

  Water slid off his upper body as he stood with his injured leg resting on the chaise while he dried off. His towel-dried hair jutted every which way, making him look as though he’d been to a Hollywood hair salon. He’d developed a tan in the short time he’d been working with Mac, and her gaze lingered over the slight dusting of hair in the middle of his chest…his flat, muscled stomach…narrow hips. She felt a rumble in her stomach, but starving or not, it definitely wasn’t food she was craving.

  There was no way to know what he’d been like before, but she had to think a person’s basic personality, core values and beliefs would remain no matter what. Linc had a solid sense of right and wrong, he was caring and sensitive. She had to believe those traits were intrinsic—a part of who he was.

  When he turned and saw her looking at him, he gave her a big smile. She waved and smiled back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Someone seeing them might easily think they were a happily married couple.

  She shook off the ridiculous thought. A pointless fantasy, for sure. Pulling her shoulders back, her resolve firmly in place, she stepped outside. “How’d everything go today?”

  “Good,” he said. “Actually, very good.” He sat on one of the mango-and-brown chaise lounges and patted the chair next to him for her to sit. “How about you? Did you get a lot accomplished?”

  “It went well. I’m sure I’ll have the mural done in time for the festival.” She dropped onto the chaise next to him. “Where’s Mac?”

  “He left a while ago. I just decided to continue on my own.” Then he frowned. “Did you get a phone call? Some guy came to the gate and I told him you weren’t here. I figured if it was someone you knew, he’d call you.”

  “Nobody called. Didn’t he give his name?”

  “Nope. But he asked me who I was.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t know what you wanted me to say, so I didn’t say anything. I told him to leave a name and I’d let you know. But he didn’t.”

  Odd. Anyone she knew would identify themselves. “I guess we should have discussed that, huh?”

  He shrugged. “Your place, your choice.”

  “I always say the same thing I do when you’re with me. You’re a friend from school, staying in sunny Arizona while recovering from an accident. No one knows anything else.”

  “Serena and Natalia know the truth.”

  She shrugged. “They’re my friends. They won’t say anything about who you are.”

  He shifted. Sat up straighter. “I guess if I were you I wouldn’t want people to know, either.”

  She blinked. “That doesn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t care what people think. I thought you didn’t want people to know.” She shrugged. “But you’re going to be leaving, so what’s the point?”

  “Right. You’re right.” He nodded his agreement. “I’ll be gone, so what’s the point.”

  Tori’s excitement faded. She felt safe with him there. He’d only been with her a short time, but she’d gotten used to his presence…looked forward to him being there when she came home. “So, you said you had a good day. What was good? Did you make progress on your search?”

  Nodding, he said, “I did. But let’s go inside. I’ll get dressed and we can talk over dinner.”

  “Great. I’m starving and whatever you’re making smells yummy. Tell me what it is and I’ll get a bottle of wine to go along with it.”

  “Red. Get a full-bodied red.”

  She looked at him askance. “So, now you’re a wine aficionado?”

  “Google is an amazing research tool,” he said quickly. “And I had to improvise on the recipe since there were more ingredients than I could find in your pantry.” He opened the sliding door and motioned for her to go in first. “I also used the rest of the wine in the refrigerator, since the recipe called for it.”

  “I can’t wait,” she said. “Do I have time to shower? I’m kinda painty.”

  He reached up and rubbed her cheek. “You are, aren’t you.”

  Her heart stalled.

  “Go ahead. We have plenty of time.”

  “Good,” she squeaked, then hurried from the room.

  ~~~

  After changing from his swimsuit to a pair of jeans and a black shirt, Linc gathered all the items for two place settings, including napkins and wineglasses, then transferred them from the counter to the center island, then to the kitchen table. It was easier to move things in stages rather than going back and forth. The center island also made cooking a lot easier.

  He liked cooking, but didn’t know if that was because it was the only thing he could do to help out, or if he’d been good at it in his former life. Considering he’d only been twenty-two when he’d gone to prison, the last possibility probably wasn’t it.

  He took the cover off the pot and savored the robust
flavor that wafted into the room. He hoped the dish was as good as it smelled.

  “Wow. That smells amazing.” Tori’s voice came from directly behind him. “Let me see, too.”

  He dropped the lid back on the pot. “In due time. It needs to simmer a little longer. And I have French bread warming in the oven.”

  “Are we celebrating something?” She handed him a bottle of wine.

  “Clos du Bois, Cabernet Sauvignon.” He read the label. “Is it good?”

  “It goes with beef.” Standing on the other side of the counter, she handed him the wineglasses from the table. He poured and handed one back to her.

  “To the woman who saved my life,” he said.

  Her smile tilted a little, and she hesitated before raising her glass. “I haven’t done anything, Linc. The toast should be to you. You’re a courageous man.”

  Hearing her praise, his chest expanded like a puffer fish. He hoped she was right. Maybe he really was a good guy “Okay. How about a toast to—” he lifted his glass again “—to us.”

  Another hesitation, then she said, “To friendship.”

  And with those two words, she’d neatly tucked their relationship into the friend zone. But what did that mean? Did it mean they were friends and she was open to more? Or was she letting him know that’s all they were…all they would ever be.

  Friendship certainly wasn’t all he wanted. And if he’d discovered nothing else about himself, he knew he wasn’t a quitter. “To friendship,” he said clicking his glass to hers. “And more.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  FRIENDSHIP AND MORE. If they were two different people, if they had no history, she’d be on that train in a nanosecond. But they were who they were. End of story. Done. Fini.

  “Beef Bourguignonne,” Tori said, the rich taste of wine still on her tongue. “Can I open my eyes now?”

  “That’s it.” Linc’s grin extended from ear to ear. “I’m worried, though, since I didn’t have all the right ingredients.”

  “If it tastes as good as it smells, you have nothing to worry about.” She was feeling super relaxed after sipping the wine so quickly, especially since she hadn’t had much to eat all day.