Digitalis (5 page)

Turning away had never been so hard. His boots felt like cement had filled them, weighting him with each step. He circled the play area, found a spot, and planted himself on the stone bench with strict orders to keep his eyes to himself.

Disobeying orders, his gaze drifted to her long, graceful form as she cleared the restaurant. When she turned toward him, he averted his gaze, feeling as silly as a schoolboy with his first crush. He removed his hat and brushed the rim. Straightened the band. Anything to keep his disloyal thoughts and eyes out of trouble.

“Mr. Neeley?”

When he glanced up, a thrill rushed through him at the sight of Piper standing beside him. He shoved to his feet, his heart tripping over itself. “Colton. Call me Colton.”

Rosiness filled her face. “Colton.” The silky softness of the way she said his name tied his mind in knots. She held out the little striped bag she’d given Mickey at Hastings. “I found this on McKenna’s chair.”

“Thank you. There’d be crocodile tears once she figured out it was missing.”

“Well …” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I should get back to work.” As she walked away, he was riveted to the bounce of her sandy blond hair. Why hadn’t he asked her out? What if God had given him that opportunity right there to open the doors to …

The idea was all he needed. “Hey, what if …” he called after her. When she spun toward him, expectation in her beautiful eyes, he realized he’d lost his mind. But how did he recover from the hope he saw in her expression? “Maybe we could catch dinner or a movie sometime.”

What are you doing, Cowboy?

Did she have to smile like that? His legs went weak.

“I would like that. Here—” She drew a card out of her purse and scribbled on the back, before handing it to him. “If you can’t reach me at home, well … you know where to find me. Or if you need more towels.”

Surprise jabbed him at the obvious taunt. He paused as a slow grin plowed into his face. Had she figured him out, that he’d been shopping in that fancy store just to see her? “I think we’re stocked good on towels now.”

She chuckled. “You should be.” She
was
teasing him.

“We got a lot of bathrooms back at the ranch.”

“Probably goes well with the luggage set.”

His chest puffed up. “We travel.”

This time, she laughed full out. And so did he. His cover had been blown.

“Daddy, watch!” McKenna shouted from the playground.

“I’d better go.” She turned but kept her gaze over her shoulder. “Bye, Colton.”

Mouth dry and brain dead, he gave a curt nod.
What have I done?
What was he thinking, stepping over his self-imposed line?

Too many things. What woman wanted a damaged Marine like him? And then there was the niggling feeling he had, things that snagged his instincts—instincts that had been dulled as his attraction took over.

He narrowed his eyes.

She was intelligent and spoke with proper English. Almost
too
proper—look at the way she ate pizza for pity’s sake!

“Daddy!”

He pulled himself around and caught sight of McKenna as she slid down the tall slide, then leapt to her feet as if she’d dismounted the thing.

“Ta-da!”

He applauded her, then motioned her over. “Mickey, let’s go, darlin’.”

In his dualie, he buckled her into the booster seat and climbed behind the wheel. With one last glance at Hastings, he began the forty-minute trip home. Mickey quickly dropped off to sleep, affording him time to organize his thoughts and responses to his mother. Between her and Mickey, he had enough estrogen streaming through his life to know she’d demand an explanation. No matter how much he tried to convince himself he shouldn’t call Piper for a date, that he should dismiss her from his life, his mind lingered on the beautiful woman.

Piper Blum.

Why was she sad? He’d seen the look when he and Mickey left the store before lunch. He’d almost swear there were tears in her eyes. She carried herself with poise that spoke of prominence and privilege. Then again, the clothes she wore didn’t bear witness to a wealthy upbringing.

Hiding something. Keeping secrets buried tightly beneath the lid of composure.

Just like me
.

Blum. A German-Jewish name. Of course, her conservative nature that he admired could be because she was Jewish—that might explain the veggie pizza because she couldn’t eat pork sausage. Was his mind reaching too far with that one?

He blinked. Ten minutes out from the house, and he’d done nothing but think about Piper Blum. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Rein it in, Cowboy!”

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

He glanced in the rearview mirror and found his sleepy daughter looking out the window, rubbing her eyes. “Nothing.” He steered onto the dirt road to the house. Almost as soon as the crunching under the tires pervaded the interior, Mickey squealed, spotting his parents on the front porch.

His father met him as Colton stepped from the truck and shut the door. “Did you get the table for your mother?”

“Yessir.” Colton let down the tailgate and dragged the large box from the bed while his mother retrieved Mickey from the backseat of his dualie. “Ya know, I have no idea why she wants an assembly-required table when you can make one twice as nice for her.”

“Because I can’t wait until I’m dead and buried to get it!” His mother laughed as she held her granddaughter close.

“Look, Nana. I got this at the mall from Piper.”

Dawg, she starts fast
. He hoisted the box up and corrected his daughter. “Miss Blum.”

His mother’s eyebrow arched. “Miss Blum?”

“She was a really pretty lady, even Daddy said so. She helped me when Daddy was lost. Then she had lunch with us. But she gave me this bag.” Mickey took a breath, then rushed on.

Seizing the chance during his daughter’s ramblings, Colton escaped into the house with the box. His mother and Mickey had more in common than any granddaughter and grandmother should. Inquisitive nature, incessant chatter, and relentless nagging.

He left the box by the living-room entrance, where his father would spend the next day or two assembling it, and strode into the kitchen. Not that Colton minded helping, but his dad enjoyed doing things like this. Made him feel useful, he said. After pouring a glass of iced tea, Colton grabbed a roll from a bread basket and stuffed several pieces of ham into it.

“Who is this Piper Blum, and why is she giving McKenna gifts?” His mother’s folded arms and deep-brow scowl reeked of jealousy.

Colton almost laughed. “Your granddaughter was lost at Hastings. Miss Blum found her, and Mickey was upset, so she gave her a gift.”

Her expression didn’t change. She moved to the counter and began wiping down the mess he’d made with his sandwich. Towel tossed down, she planted a hand on her hip and shifted to him. “Why’d you have lunch with her?”

Colton nearly choked. Pounding a fist against his chest, he coughed to clear his throat. “It wasn’t what you think. Mickey insisted that—”

Brr. Brr. Brrr
.

He yanked his phone from the holster. When he saw the coded message, he planted a kiss on his mom’s head. “Don’t get any ideas. Lunch was merely a thank-you gesture. She’s not a love interest or any other type of interest.” He stomped down the side hall to his bedroom at the back of the house.

His mother called after him, “It wouldn’t hurt you to take
some
kind of interest in a woman.”

With a smile, he swung his door shut, then dragged his rucksack from the top shelf in the closet, his mind already on the new mission. Adrenaline surged through his veins. Where would they head this time? What adversary had popped his head up and proved too volatile for traditional military tactics? He lived for the missions, for Nightshade.

God, protect me and mine
.

Getting caught meant death.

But she had no choice. Piper hit S
END
and sat back against the hard chair in the law library. Hand on a textbook, she stared at the words in the pretense of reading and turned a page. Her gaze skittered between the text in the book and the glare of the monitor, waiting.

Minutes passed. Nothing.

Piper glanced at her watch. Checked the aisle to the right where mammoth oak bookcases stretched until they seemed to bleed into one another. To the left. She barely saw the edge of the main door. She shouldn’t have sat this close. Too exposed. Someone could see her.

The Web site sat, staring back at her, lifeless, as if expecting her to do what a normal person would do—click on a link. Maybe she’d misread the note. She dug it out of her jeans pocket and smoothed the crumpled paper. Scanning the message, she read through the obvious to the code. Nonsensical code that demanded another level of deciphering to reach the intended message.

Today was the twenty-sixth of January, wasn’t it? She flipped open her phone and checked the calendar. Yes. The twenty-sixth.

Another minute vanished. The Web page remained unchanged. Her heart worked a little faster. What if something had happened? Her mind galloped through scenarios. Had he been caught or arrested—or worse?

No. She had to keep hope alive.

She stared at the screen. An online pizza shop in SoHo. The site the griefer had given her. She double-checked the URL. Yes, it was correct. So, what was wrong? Why wasn’t it—

A large spaceship suddenly slid across the lead banner. Lights around the top dome flickered, sending out distressing strobes of light. She blinked quickly. Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d held, Piper smiled. She clicked on the pepperoni slice and logged in, using the provided code. If it all worked right …

Her heart jolted at the simple greeting waiting as soon as the black page loaded. She typed back:

Relief flooded her at the response. Quickly, she pecked on the keys.

Her pulse raced. How could he promise that?

Piper sat staring at the dialogue as it faded from the screen along with dozens of green Martians, handiwork of a griefer named Shu Tup. In the world of griefers, little truth existed except the fact that their kind thrilled on causing angst to Web site owners and gamers. Getting paid to set up the rendezvous sites with her father was just an added bonus to her cyber friend.

But the conversation had been entirely too short. As she X-ed out of the browser, the ache to be with her father, to hug him, to hear his gruff but kind voice overtook her. Tears streamed down her face. She despised having to speak to him in code. Anger chipped at her courage. She wanted his warm arms around her. To feel his beard against her cheek.

“Excuse me?” The masculine voice stabbed her alert.

Spine rigid, Piper pushed herself up in the chair and swiped at her tears, keeping her face down. “Yes?” She slapped her books closed and grabbed pens and pencils, using her hair to shield her wet face from the man standing beside her.

“Are you using the terminal? I need to do research.”

“Sure. Okay.” Books gathered, she nudged back the chair and rushed from the hall. She had to be more careful. Sitting there pining over things she couldn’t change left her vulnerable and brainless.

Out in the warm night, she hugged the books to her chest, still riding the high of knowing that, at this very moment, her father was still alive! Giddiness wove a sickening concoction in her belly. The last few weeks had taken their toll as reports of unrest in their homeland consumed the news. Unable to talk to him on a regular basis, she had to settle for nights like this. Nights when thirty seconds of conversation would have to hold her for months.

A block from her apartment, she stopped at a convenience store and grabbed an energy drink and a fruit bar. Anything to help her stay up studying. With finals in a month, she didn’t have time to lose. The adrenaline from the online rendezvous was bottoming out, and exhaustion gripped her in a tight vise. If she went home and tried to study without a sugar rush, she’d be face down in her books within minutes.

As she waited in line, she noticed a keychain with a small pink poodle on it. A little girl’s round blue eyes filtered into her mind. Piper tugged it from the rack, smiling as she remembered McKenna … and her father. Handsome Colton Neeley. She’d had to feign ignorance on his name, but she’d watched intently each time he’d scribbled his name over the credit card slip. Strong hands. Callused. Hard working. He fit the tall, dark, and handsome bill to a T. What would it be like to be in
his
arms? Fire raced through her cheeks. Her father would surely send her to the scriptures again for that thought.