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“I’m not with you.”
Ike scooped up her money, then slowly closed the distance between them. Lindsay’s pulse took off. Then with his patient gaze pinned to hers, he folded the bills and tucked them back into her pocket. Except he didn’t remove his hand.
“Save your money for lunch,” he murmured. “Or buy Sam some French fries.”
She felt his warm hand through her Windbreaker, felt it through her slacks…felt it all the way to her skin. The full force of his sexuality hit her squarely in the libido, and suddenly Lindsay resented his easy familiarity. He knew what his touch could do.
Shoving his hand away, she snatched the bills from her pocket and tossed them back on the table. “Sam doesn’t eat French fries anymore,” she said, letting him know he wasn’t as familiar with her or her life as he thought he was. “Triple bypass last fall.” Then, still battling that nervous clutching in her stomach, she backed away. “I’ll contact you after I talk with my mother.”
Three hours later, she and Sam Cooper were disinfecting the ambulance after transporting a man with a raging fever to the hospital when the phone in the ambulance bay rang. Sam tossed his sponge into the bucket and climbed out to answer it.
“It’s for you,” her crew-cut-wearing partner said when he returned.
“Who is it?”
Sam sent her a teasing look and a waggle of black brows. “Some guy, and he’s really hot to speak to you.”
Lindsay felt a quick flush as she scurried out and brushed past him. Behind her, Sam began to chuckle.
“So that’s what’s going on this morning. Maybe this call will improve your mood a bit, Crabby.”
“I’m not crabby,” she grumbled over her shoulder, “I’m just…thoughtful.”
“Then you’re thinking about the wrong stuff,” he called back.
But the voice on the phone didn’t belong to the man whose compelling brown eyes and rugged good looks had haunted her all morning. John Fielding wanted her to have dinner with him that night.
Lindsay rubbed the tension over her eyes. She hadn’t slept well, and Sam was right. She hadn’t smiled much today.
Thanks a lot, Ike.
“I’m sorry, John, but I’ve already made plans for this evening.” Although, John would be a lot easier to deal with than her mother was going to be. “Let’s just see each other next Saturday when I come by to help out at the bookstore.”
“Sure,” he replied, sounding slightly put off. “But I believe we agreed to meet on Sunday.”
Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. “Of course we did. Forgive me. It’s been a busy morning, and I’m a little distracted. When it gets closer, let me know what time is good for you, and I’ll see you then.”
“Great. I’m looking forward to it.”
When she’d said goodbye and replaced the wall phone’s receiver, Lindsay stared bleakly into space, her surroundings blurring. Ike was ruining her life. Last week, she’d enjoyed John’s company. He was a charming man, an interesting conversationalist, and seemed well versed on a variety of subjects.
But this week he felt like an obligation.
Chapter 3
Lindsay rose to clear away their dinner plates, biting her tongue for what seemed like the hundredth time. Since her dining room still wasn’t usable, she’d cut fresh French and white lilacs from the bushes out back, then arranged them in a glass vase with some trailing ivies and centered them on her kitchen table. Combined with a lacy white tablecloth and the white china she rarely used, they lent a pretty touch of grace to her remodeled oak, peach and mint kitchen.
She’d also popped in an instrumental CD her mom liked, and prepared orange-glazed chicken, baked potatoes and steamed broccoli with her mother’s health and preferences in mind. Unfortunately, at the moment none of it seemed to impress Arlene Hollis. The temperature in Lindsay’s kitchen had dropped ten degrees the instant she’d mentioned Ike’s name.
“Unbelievable,” Arlene continued angrily. “He’s in town less than twenty-four hours, and suddenly the clock’s turned back and you’re giving him whatever he wants, no matter how I feel about it.”
“Mother,” Lindsay replied calmly, “I’m not giving him anything, and I do care how you feel. He’s concerned that there might be a connection, and he simply asked me to speak to you about—”
“—desecrating your brother’s room and his memory. I heard you the first time. And the reason that man is concerned is he’s looking for someone else to shoulder his guilt.”
Arlene tore the napkin from her lap, dropped it beside her teacup and pushed to her feet. “Ricky told him that something bad would happen if he didn’t get out of town. And what did Ike do? He ignored your brother. He was more interested in his recovery fee than the pleas of a young boy who’d made an unfortunate mista—”
Tears choked off the rest of her sentence, and jumping up, Lindsay went to her petite mother’s side. There was no point in repeating that Ike hadn’t wanted a fee, or reminding her pretty blond mom that for most of his life, Ricky had cried wolf and blown his troubles and needs enormously out of proportion. Her mother was in no mood to listen.
Smoothing a hand over the shoulder of her mother’s pale pink sweater, Lindsay looked down into her hazel eyes. Eyes like Ricky’s. “Mom, please,” she said quietly, sincerely. “Calm down. It was a request, not a demand. If you feel that strongly about it, I’ll tell Ike that it’s not going to happen.”
Arlene blinked back her tears. “But you think it’s necessary.”
“Yes, I do. If someone deliberately—”
“The answer is no,” Arlene said more forcefully. “I don’t want that man in my home—not ever again. And mark my words, Lindsay, if you let him back in your life, he’ll destroy you all over again.”
Lindsay sighed at the ceiling, unable to hold back her frustration any longer. “Mom, neither of us wants to get involved again. We have separate lives now. It’s over. We’ve both moved on. In fact, we wouldn’t even be speaking if it wasn’t for yesterday’s shooting.”
Arlene’s tight expression never changed. She glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s getting late. I should be leaving.”
“It’s only seven o’clock. Stay for dessert. I made a nice fruit salad, and I picked up a quart of frozen peach yogurt.”
“I can’t,” she said, pushing away then moving into the living room where she’d left her purse and keys. “I told you earlier that your aunt Cheryl would be calling, and I don’t want to keep her waiting. It’s long distance to Bangor.”
Which made no sense at all, but Lindsay wouldn’t point that out or press for a better excuse. Her mother was obviously determined to leave and she wouldn’t stop her.
“Are you all right?” she asked when she’d walked her to the driveway where Arlene’s blue Toyota was parked.
“I’m fine,” she replied stiffly. “Rather, I will be as soon as that man goes back to Portland and leaves us alone.” After hugging Lindsay without warmth, she slid behind the wheel and smoothed her short salon cut before starting her car.
Then, abruptly, she turned off the ignition and got back out, tears rimming her hazel eyes again and a wealth of love in her voice. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she murmured, embracing Lindsay again. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset, especially after you made such a lovely dinner. Maybe we can have some of that peach yogurt another time soon.”
“Of course we can,” Lindsay replied, returning her hug.
Easing back, Arlene looked into Lindsay’s eyes again, her gaze troubled. “In my defense, I… Well, you know how much I miss your dad and brother. I—I just don’t want to lose you, too. Not again. And I’m afraid that could happen if you let him back into your life. He’s not good for you, sweetheart.”
Lindsay felt a guilty pang, even though she recognized her mother’s maneuverings. There’d been a tug-of-war for her affections after Ricky’s death, and for a while, her emotional mother had believed she was on the losing side. She’d never understood that they’d all lost in the terrible days that followed her brother’s passing.
“You’re not going to lose me,” Lindsay said gently. “We’re family, and I love you. But will you do something for me?”
“Anything, honey.”
“Think about what we discussed. Mom, this could be so important.”
For an instant, her mother’s gaze hardened again. Then she nodded, gave Lindsay another warm hug and drove off.
Sighing, Lindsay reentered her home and headed for the telephone on her computer hutch. Ike would be disappointed, just as she was. But that’s the way it had to be—for now, at least. They just had to hope that after her mother had given the search some thought, she’d see the need for justice and change her mind.
Taking his business card from the top of the hutch, Lindsay dialed Ike’s cell phone, feeling that emptiness in her chest again. It occurred to her that if she’d told her mom how totally disinterested Ike had been when she’d mentioned dating John Fielding, her mother wouldn’t have wasted a second worrying.
In a moment, his deep, recorded baritone came on. “This is Ike. Apparently, I’m out of range right now because this thing’s always turned on. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
“Hi, it’s me,” she replied soberly. “I’m just calling to tell you that it didn’t go well with my mother. I’ll talk to her again tomorrow—Saturday—after she’s had some time to think about it, then I’ll contact you again. No need to return my call. Have a good evening.”
But as Lindsay finished clearing the table and returning her pretty cut-glass dessert cups to the cupboard, she had to admit that she didn’t want him to have a good evening. Not after making an absolute mess of hers without even being here.
And where was he tonight, anyway? What was he doing, and who was he was doing it with?
With renewed energy, she started the dishwasher, moved the lilacs from her table and yanked up her lacy tablecloth, determined not to think about it. The two of them had moved on.
Isn’t that what she’d just told her mother?
Wired, Ike strode inside the one-story, pale brick Spindrift Public Library on Saturday morning and stopped at the aging librarian’s desk for directions to the children’s section. Getting them, he moved past a row of idle computers, then past a few elderly men reading newspapers in the sunlight spilling through a wall of windows.
He spotted her the instant he rounded a corner near the rear of the building, and he experienced an unwelcome, but pleasant little ping. From her perch on a low stool surrounded by shelves crammed with books, she was reading and laughing with the dozen four-to-six-year-olds sitting Indian-style around her. Their attention was riveted on her. She held the tall book open on her lap as she paged through it so the kids could enjoy the bright illustrations.
Something brushed his leg. With a start, Ike jerked a look down at the floor. A little orange tabby cat looked up at him, then apparently decided he wasn’t worth her time and padded by him. A moment later, she’d joined the children, and a moment after that, was wending around Lindsay’s feet. Lindsay kept reading, stroked the cat, then turned the page.
A cat in a library? Her cat? He hadn’t noticed a cat when he’d visited her two nights ago. Then again, he’d barely noticed anything but her green eyes and mile-long legs.
Taking a book from a shelf, Ike hung back, mostly out of sight, flipping through it and listening to the expressive sound of her voice as she read. She looked like a young, doting mother, beautiful and engaging and slender… And he had to look away before his body betrayed his other thoughts.
Nostalgia hit as he recalled her expressing an interest in working with kids several times during their marriage—thought about getting involved with Brownies or the Big Brothers and Sisters program during her spare time. That was before he’d gotten to know and enjoy Sam and Jennie’s toddlers, and he’d asked why she’d want to do that. Grinning, she’d replied that she needed some practice for that “someday” when they’d have little ones of their own.
But someday had never come, and Ike felt the old edginess return as his mind sifted through the facts and once again assigned blame.
Disappointed whines erupted as Lindsay finished and closed the book. Then she handed each child a rainbow-colored coupon for ice cream and suddenly they were hugging her and chattering happily again. Seconds later they bolted from the room to join their parents, the little orange tabby briskly following, her flag of a tail in the air.
Ike returned the book to the shelf as Lindsay walked unerringly toward him. He hadn’t noticed her noticing him…but then, they’d always had a connection of sorts, an energy that flowed between them like honey from a hive. An exciting buzz, an intuitive realization that the other was near.
“Hi,” she murmured.
Ike took in her khaki slacks and white knit top. Today her sun-streaked blond hair fell to her shoulders and waved softly around her face. “Hi. I got your message.”
“Then you’re aware that she said no.”
“Yes.” He was disappointed, but more than that, he was frustrated. He wanted to move on this thing. He had nothing solid to base it on, but his gut told him that timing was important—and searching through Ricky’s things was the only way he could think of to… To what? Get absolution for his sins? To prove to Lindsay and her mother that if someone hadn’t gotten to Ricky the day he’d died, there would’ve been another attempt to keep him quiet?
“How can we change your mother’s mind?”
Lindsay looked around, then glanced toward the desk. “Let me get my purse from the librarian, then we can talk outside.”
“Your purse—and your cat?” he asked.
The somber look in her eyes left. “Oh, Marmalade’s not mine. She lives here. She’s one of the library cats.”
“There are more?”
“Yep, three. It’s a trendy thing that seems to be catching on—mostly in cities where the libraries are located in older buildings. The cats are invited in to keep down the rodent population.” She quirked a brow at him. “I’m surprised they don’t have them in Portland.”
Ike quirked a brow back. “When have you ever known me to spend time in libraries?”
“Never?”
“Right.”
They approached the graying librarian at the desk, and with a smile, the woman extended Lindsay’s purse.
“Thanks, Mrs. Arnett. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
“Looking forward to it,” the librarian returned cheerfully. “The youngsters enjoy you so much.”
“Not half as much as I enjoy them,” Lindsay answered warmly, and Ike could see that she was telling the truth. There’d been a glow about her as she’d interacted with the kids.
When they were out in the bright sun, she returned to their “cat” conversation. “Getting back to our kitties, they don’t work for their dinners here. They’re just furry little welcome wagons. Most people love them—think they add a homey feel to the place.”
“And those who don’t?”
She grinned. “Those who don’t, ignore them and get the same treatment from the cats.”
The municipal parking lot was several doors ahead, just past a small brick insurance office and a beauty parlor. They walked together beneath the leafy trees lining the street, the heels of Lindsay’s sandals sounding softly on the sun-dappled concrete.
She glanced up at him. “So how did you find me this time?”
“Your neighbor—the one with the R.V. parked in the driveway. She saw me at your door and called over that it was your Saturday to read to the kids.” They turned left and entered the lot, the breeze tossing her hair and giving Ike a glimpse of gold hoop earrings. “So I guess you meant what you said to the librarian, huh? You looked like you were having a good time in there.”
“I was. Kids are great. They’re interested and attentive and always eager to learn new things. That’s something I don’t always get from adults.”
“You read to adults, too?”
“No, but last year I started teaching CPR courses. Some of the businesses around here require their staff to know the basics, just in case a problem arises. Occasionally I get the feeling that one or two of them are only there because their job depends on it.”
“Got a list of their names? I’ll stay out of their stores.”
“Not a bad idea, but I doubt you’d need their help. You look to be in decent shape.” A fraction of a second later, she seemed to realize that she’d given him a compliment, and jerked her gaze from his to dig her keys from her purse.
Her red Chevy Blazer was parked just inside the perimeter of the lot. Lindsay unlocked it with the remote pod dangling from her key chain.
“You asked inside how we could change my mother’s mind. The answer to that is, I don’t know.”
He frowned. “I was hoping you’d spoken to her today with better results. God knows I didn’t get anywhere talking to your brother’s thug friends last night.”
Then he’d been working, not playing last night, Lindsay realized, feeling a little lift. He hadn’t been entertaining Brandy or some other woman who was into six-pack abs and sexy eyes. “You spoke to his friends?”
“For all the good it did me.”
“Who? And what did they say? Were they any help?”
