“None of it matters now,” he said, slamming the glass down on the table and raking a hand through his hair. “We can’t afford a distraction like this.”
“Will we be any less attracted to each other if we ignore it?” She frowned at the empty glass. “Or if you’re drunk?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that I need to keep all my attention on protecting you from the man who tried to take you. From here on out, we have to control whatever it is we feel for each other. We have to move forward with clear minds. And I’m not drunk.”
“Levi,” she protested, but was silenced when he kissed her again, before pulling her to her feet, taking her bag and leading her downstairs, gun at the ready.
Feeling as if her head were stuffed with fuzz, she leaned back against the headrest in his car and closed her eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he climbed behind the wheel.
“Not really.” She rolled her head to look at him.
He reached for her hand where it lay on the seat between them.
“We’ll find whoever’s behind this, Sid. Don’t worry.”
She wondered if he realized he still said “we” as if he and Teddy continued to work together and nothing had ever come between them. She didn’t mention that as she offered him a half-hearted smile.
“I know,” she assured him. She knew he would try, even if she wasn’t sure he’d be successful.
Except for her directions, they were silent on the way to her house, and she was grateful for the time to think. She had wondered a million times over the years what had driven her parents to leave her at that rest area. Now, for the first time, she wondered if there had been a reason she was there other than them not wanting her. Had they been foreigners? Was that how she knew a language she didn’t remember ever hearing? Had they escaped to America? Had they been illegal? Forced to run from the immigration authorities and leave her behind? Had they been arrested, or deported back to their homeland? Or had she really been kidnapped?
He slowed as they turned onto her road, and she pointed at the two-bedroom postwar home she’d rented three years ago. She frowned at the light in the living room window. She didn’t remember leaving it on, but she’d been in a hurry this morning, running late because she couldn’t find one of her shoes. She must have rushed out as soon as she found it behind the sofa, not even remembering to turn out the light as she scolded Coda on her way out the door.
“Nice place,” Levi said as they walked up the shrub-lined pathway to the carport. “But these shrubs need to come up. Someone could easily hide behind them.”
“Thanks. I like it. And I like the shrubs. They’re staying right where they are. I’d have to get the landlord’s approval before I pulled them up anyway.”
Coda’s whining turned to furious barking as Sidra turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. What in the world was wrong with the crazy dog? Did she know Levi was here? Did she think Teddy was nearby, too?
Sidra had barely pushed the door open when Coda flew through it, barking up a storm as she launched herself at Levi’s legs. Even in the dim glow of the porch light, Sidra saw Levi’s face pale as he dropped to his knees to pet his brother’s brown-and-white English bulldog.
“He left her with you?” he murmured.
“Mm-hmm.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak as she turned away from Levi’s anguished eyes. It was beyond her understanding how two men who loved each other so much could cause each other so much pain.
She stopped before she entered her house, a gasp escaping her as she saw the mess illuminated by the dim light in the corner.
Chapter Four
Levi was on his feet in an instant, pushing Sidra behind him as he drew his gun and stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the upended furniture, stopping at the curio cabinet lying on its side in the corner. Bits of brightly colored fabric stuck up from the broken glass and the paperbacks knocked from the nearby bookshelf.
As he moved from the living room to the kitchen and bedrooms, Sidra followed on his heels, fingers hooked through his belt loop, keeping him from getting too far ahead of her.
The kitchen cabinets hung open and the contents of the drawers had been emptied on the floor. The bedrooms weren’t nearly as bad as the living room, or even the kitchen. Although the drawers had been emptied and their contents scattered about the floor, at least the beds were still made and the furniture was still in its upright position.
The second of the two bedrooms was obviously Sidra’s. The dressing table was covered with cosmetics and perfume bottles, and the bed rumpled as if she’d sat on the side after making it up. His eyes fell on the bedside table, where a romance novel lay open beside the crystal carafe of water and the old-fashioned alarm clock beside it. As she lay in her bed all alone, did she imagine she was the heroine in a novel? Did she long for a man to sweep her off her feet, deposit her on the flowered quilt, and make love to her all night? Would she throw her head back like the cover model’s, letting his mouth close over the throbbing pulse of her throat, or the delicate white skin above the plunging neckline of her soft blue gown? Did his quiet, efficient little secretary lose her sense of propriety when a man touched her like that? Would she have that look of pleasure on her face if it was his dark head bent over her, his breath warming her flesh?
He was so caught up in his own fantasies he hardly noticed she had turned loose of him and had become a whirling dervish, stuffing clothing back into drawers before slamming them into place with angry thumps.
Tears tracked her cheeks and her breath came in short, angry sobs as she worked. She was quickly coming undone, and he wasn’t quite sure how to stop it without touching her. At the moment, however, touching her was not the best idea. He wanted to move toward her, take her in his arms, and soothe her, but he wasn’t sure he could keep from giving in to his wayward imaginings. One day soon, he just might sweep her up and carry her to bed, but it wouldn’t be tonight.
When she shoved the last drawer into place, she swung around to face him.
“Why would someone do this?” she demanded. “I have nothing to hide. Nothing anyone in the world besides me would want.”
He had no idea how to answer her. The sliver of hope that the man really had picked her randomly because she had been at the bus stop died the moment they entered her house. There was no longer any doubt Sidra was a target. The question was whose, and what did they intend to do to her once they had her. Dread became a rock-hard knot in his stomach as she continued to stare at him, questions burning in her eyes.
“I don’t know, Sid, but I promise you we’ll find whoever did this.”
“You keep saying that, Levi, but I’m pretty sure he’ll find us before we find him,” she retorted as she pushed past him. “After all, he knows who he’s looking for and exactly where to find me.”
He followed her to the living room, where she began trying to straighten the mess the intruder had created.
“Help,” she ordered, motioning to the upended bookshelf, which he lifted with ease.
She began plucking items from the broken glass of the curio cabinet while he set the sofa, easy chair, and tables upright. He turned back to find her setting a half dozen porcelain dolls, each dressed in a flowing jewel-toned gown, on the shelf, at perfect angles to the romance novels she’d already placed in neat, symmetrical rows. He shook his head in surprise. He would never have imagined Sidra as the fairytale-believing, doll-collecting type, but he couldn’t deny the proof before his eyes. Romance novels and princess dolls were a dead giveaway of a hopeless romantic.
As she set the last doll on the shelf, she lost her grip on it, bobbling the figurine a moment before catching it. The tiny gold crown fell off the doll’s head and landed on the floor at her feet. With a sigh, she bent to scoop it up, but stopped suddenly, seeming to stumble before sinking to her knees.
“Sid?” He rushed toward her as she braced her free hand against the floor and squ
eezed her eyes closed tightly.
“Wave good-bye, Princess.” The man shoved her into the back seat of the car and Sidra fell across a woman’s lap. The tiara slipped from her head and landed with a soft thud beside the sensible pumps the woman wore. The woman bent to retrieve it as Sidra scrambled up the back seat, tears streaming down her cheeks while she watched her home grow smaller and smaller in the rear window.
“Mama! Papa!” she cried, her small fists pounding on the glass.
As they rounded the corner that hid the castle completely from view, the woman spoke with the same guttural accent as the man.
“Sit down, Princess. You will never see your parents again.”
“Sidra?” Levi was kneeling beside her, his hand gentle on her back. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m fine.”
He came to his feet, his eyes searching her face as he put an arm around her and led her to the sofa. She was shaking, her heart was beating frantically, and she could feel the tears on her cheeks.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A memory, a flashback. I don’t know. Maybe just a vivid daydream.”
“And?”
“And…I think I’m a princess.”
“A what?”
“A princess. You know, a girl whose father is king and mother is queen?”
“I know what a princess is, Sid. I just don’t know what makes you think you could be one.”
“I was wearing a crown when I was kidnapped. I remember it fell off and landed by a lady’s feet.”
“Don’t a lot of little girls wear crowns when they’re playing? My niece loves to pretend she’s a princess.”
“Yes, but this one wasn’t plastic and rhinestones.”
“How can you know that?”
“I just do,” she insisted. “I saw my home, Levi, and it was a castle.”
“A castle?”
“I am not explaining to you what a castle is.”
He chuckled and touched her hair while she waited with bated breath to see if he believed her.
“I can picture you in a crown and a castle,” he admitted. “I just can’t imagine how a princess came to be alone beside an American interstate. We don’t have royalty here.”
“I know that, Levi. But the woman in the car spoke the same language as the man who accosted me. Obviously I wasn’t born here in America.”
“So there was a woman involved?”
Had he even heard what she said?
“Yes, she was waiting in the car for us.”
“What did she say?”
“She called me ‘Princess’ and told me I would never see my mother and father again.” She bit her lip to fight back the tears that threatened. “I guess she was right.”
With a comforting murmur, he pulled her against him. His breath ruffled her hair, and she slipped her arms around his waist. She nestled against him, drinking in the warm masculine scent of him and finding comfort in the way his arms wrapped protectively around her.
“Ah, Sidra,” he whispered against her hair, and she answered by lifting her face to his, breathing his name against his mouth as she stood on tiptoe to touch her lips to his.
“Levi.”
His eyes blazed and his mouth claimed hers hungrily. Desire unfurled deep within her, and she returned his kisses with equal ferocity. Her hands slipped inside his shirt, running over the smooth skin of his back as his cupped her head, holding her still for his deepening kisses.
“My God, I want you,” he groaned, his thumbs stroking her face. “But we can’t do this now.”
Embarrassment warmed her face and she stepped back, trying to regain her composure. She had worked for this man for four years, kept her attraction to him hidden, and maintained her professionalism and thus her pride. Had she always been a mere breath away from losing control and throwing herself at him like a fool? And how many times did she need him to refuse what she was offering, before she quit?
“You must be starving,” she announced, proud of the steadiness of her voice. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”
“Sid,” he said, reaching for her arm.
She sidestepped him and went to the kitchen, relieved when he didn’t follow.
She heard him move to the sofa, followed by the soft murmur of the television. With a shaky sigh, she sank into a chair and leaned her head on the table. The events of the night played through her head for the hundredth time, from the moment she’d left the office until now.
The man, the woman, the castle; it was all familiar, yet unknown. She had no idea what it meant. Was there any possible way she could be a princess? Or was she just a little girl playing dress-up like Levi suspected? Did she know the language they spoke firsthand, or was it only through her parents speaking it in the years before they abandoned her? Had she been abandoned, or had she been kidnapped? No one kidnapped a child only to leave them alone at a roadside service station. Did they?
Finally, when she accepted that she was missing too many pieces of the puzzle to solve it tonight, she stood up and moved to the stove. She started two grilled cheese sandwiches, then took out a plastic container of leftover vegetable soup and popped it into the microwave over the stove. She only cooked a few nights a week, ate leftovers a day or two, and sometimes froze a serving or two for later. The soup had been made yesterday and would probably be even better tonight than it had been then.
Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold. The old nursery rhyme, recited in a thickly accented female voice, danced through her head. She tried to grasp hold of a solid memory to go with it, anything at all that would tell her who had spoken it. She came up with nothing at all.
Forcing herself away from the problem, she ladled soup into two ceramic bowls, which she placed on matching plates along with a handful of saltines and a sandwich each.
Levi entered the room as she set the plates on the table, and they ate in near silence. She couldn’t understand why the attraction they’d felt for the last four years had suddenly become such a palpable presence between them, threatening to swallow them whole with the least provocation.
“The guest room bed is made up for you.” She carried her dishes to the sink, praying he’d just go to bed without a fuss. She was too tired to try to hash out whether they’d crossed the line between employer and employee, acquaintances to lovers or whatever they had been to each other to what they were now.
“I’ll sleep on the couch, Sid.” When she would have protested, he explained. “I need to be near the door.”
“I’ll get you a blanket and pillow, then.”
She hurried to the linen closet in the hallway. For a long moment, she stared blindly at the blankets and sheets folded neatly on the shelves. Who I am? That question had haunted her for so many years before she finally pushed it away, silencing it by creating a woman who knew who she was, or could at least pretend to know. She pressed trembling fingers to her temple. How could she be less certain of her identity now than she had been before?
“Why don’t you do what you need to do to get ready for bed? I can make up the couch.”
She nodded in agreement, then trudged to the bathroom to bathe before covering her modest flannel gown with a robe. She had never had a man sleep at her house, and it made her more nervous to have him here than she would have thought.
She entered the living room to find him sound asleep, his head leaned back against the arm of the sofa and his eyes closed. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and she bent to pull his soft leather deck shoes from his feet. She carefully lifted his legs onto the cushions and settled a soft fleece throw over him. Before moving away, she brushed a dark lock of hair from his forehead and pressed her lips where it had been.
“Good night,” she whispered.
“Night,” he murmured, settling deeper into the sofa without opening his eyes.
It was surreal to have him here, kissing her one minute and pushing her away the next, sleeping on her so
fa with Coda and the calico kitten curled up at his feet and his gun on the coffee table, so near he could snatch it up in seconds if need be.
She turned away, unwilling to think of why he might need the gun or imagine the moment he might use it to protect her or himself. He wouldn’t hesitate this time. She knew him well enough to know that. That moment when he had hesitated, when he waited to fire a shot, was what had cost him his brother, and he would be determined not to let that happen again. She prayed they never found themselves in that situation.
“Go to bed, Sidra.” The sound of his voice made her jump, and she glared at him. His eyes were mere slits, but his voice was deep and reassuring as he promised, “I’ve got this.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly, before turning toward her bedroom. Once in bed, she did her best not to imagine a stranger there, rummaging through her things, looking for God alone knew what. She worked equally hard to keep from imagining Levi joining her in bed, his shirt unbuttoned and his eyes dark with passion.
****
Levi put an arm over his eyes, trying not to remember the taste of her lips or the way she felt in his arms. Most of the women he’d dated over the years wanted nothing more than he did, a few months of monogamy, sex while they saw each other, and a fond farewell that might or might not be permanent when the fun was over. None of them had wanted anything serious, and he had been more than willing to comply with their wishes. Sidra, however, was different. Whatever happened between them would change his life forever.
He peeked under his arm at the bookshelf where the princess dolls stared down at him with serene, knowing smiles. If the romance novels weren’t enough to convince him, the benevolent smiles on their porcelain faces told him all he needed to know. He was beginning to suspect that, despite her own sad past, Sidra believed in fairytales and happy endings. He didn’t know the first thing about fairytales, and he had no idea how to even begin giving her a happy ending.
Chapter Five
“Sidra!”
Her heart stopped and she stumbled from the shower to the bathroom door, wrapping a towel around her body as she went.
Broken Ties Page 3
