Honor (35 page)

“I am so not dressed for this!” she hissed at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted. “They serve by candlelight.”

Kenzie groaned under her breath. She searched in her bag for a pair of flats and changed out of her sneakers. That was about as posh as she could get. Fortunately, her clothes were dark.

She found a comb and tossed it at him. Linc didn’t seem to care in the least what he was wearing. If he had the nerve to walk in to the one and only Greenwood, she would too. Besides, she really was starving.

The maitre d’ welcomed them with smooth aplomb, not looking at their clothes. It wasn’t as if Linc knew him or anyone else there. It was just that the place was too discreet to notice minor indiscretions.

Kenzie peeked into the main dining room while the maitre d’ looked over the seating chart. Linc was right about the candles. Waiters came and went quietly over wide-planked, shining floors, serving the customers in near silence. She could swear she saw a senator or two. There were other faces she recognized, people who weren’t exactly celebrities, but who were definitely powerful or renowned in some other way.

“Could we have a table in there?” she asked, pointing to a smaller room that seemed to be a bar, though with a few tables set for dinner. A cheerful fire blazed inside a vast fireplace, brightening stones blackened with age.

“Of course,” the maitre d’ said after a confirming look at Linc, who nodded. “Please follow me.”

Kenzie slid into a chair, hiding her jeans-clad legs immediately under the white damask cloth. Linc sat down next, smiling at her. “You look gorgeous,” he said softly.

“Thanks.” Her irritation vanished, replaced by interest in her surroundings. Massive beams overhead and the warmth of wood everywhere made the room cozy but not stifling. The Greenwood Inn really was authentic, right down to the draft from the old windows.

Linc was examining a wine list as if he did it all the time. She wasn’t familiar with the vintage he eventually ordered from a sommelier, but the man seemed to respect his choice and withdrew, taking the list.

Linc began to study the menu. “Are you hungry enough for an appetizer?”

“Sure. You pick. I’m heading for the powder room.”

When she returned, there were two wineglasses on the table and the business with the cork and first taste seemed to be over with. Kenzie sat down and sipped from the glass poured for her. The white wine was delicate, almost tingly.

“Nice,” she said, pleased.

“Glad you like it.”

A waiter appeared with a cut-crystal bowl of crushed ice topped with six tiny oysters and thin slices of lemon. He set it in the middle of the table.

Kenzie looked at them nervously. The presentation was dazzling, but ... the oysters were raw.

“What’s the matter?” Linc asked.

She ventured a smile. “Are they dead?”

“Far as I know.” He laughed. “Sorry. I should have asked. Not everybody likes raw oysters.”

“I just think they look better cooked,” she assured him. “With bread crumbs. A lot of bread crumbs.”

“Not a problem. What the lady wants, the lady gets. And I can easily eat those by myself.” He was about to summon the waiter when she put a hand on his arm.

“Really, it’s okay. I’ll look at the menu while you eat the oysters.” She studied hers carefully. It seemed to be classic American cuisine—she chose roast chicken and Linc ordered fish.

“Well,” she said, putting her napkin over her lap. “The Greenwood lives up to its reputation. See anyone you recognize?”

He glanced into the main dining room. “I do. Wish I could table-hop and make a few powerful friends. We could use some on this case.”

“But you’re not wearing the magic suit,” she teased him.

“Nope. Guess we’ll have to come back.”

Kenzie moved her knife a sixteenth of an inch to the left, closer to the spoon. “Is this dinner part of a plan to distract me?”

“Kenzie—”

“It’s working. I can’t think about—that man—all the time. So thanks.” She swallowed the word
stalker
, not wanting to say it.

“We may have something more to go on there. Mike Warren keeps the brakes on, though. He’s a slow and steady kind of guy.”

Kenzie looked up at him. “So is Harry—the police sketch artist,” she clarified, when Linc drew a blank on the name for a second. “We’re making progress.”

They set the discussion of the case aside when the salad course arrived. It was a lot easier to talk about the merits of blue cheese dressing—hers—versus herb vinaigrette—his.

Both entrees proved to be excellent.

She had more of the wine than he did, because he was doing the driving. In fact, she was pleasantly tipsy by the time the bill arrived, presented and taken away as quietly as everything else.

Kenzie rose when Linc had signed the final slip of paper. Her face was glowing from the fire and the sparkling wine—she could feel it.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“My pleasure.”

He escorted her to the outer room, and stopped off on the way. Kenzie made a beeline for a comfortable-looking armchair and plopped down to wait.

A glossy folded card on the small table beside it caught her eye. Idly, Kenzie opened it.

A photo of a lavish four-poster bed made her sigh. Below it, discreet small print advertised the room rates. The Greenwood really was an inn.

What an incredible bed. The canopy was trimmed with hand-knotted lace and the coverlet looked soft as a cloud, with a deep ruffle that brushed the carpeting.

It was easy to imagine herself in a bed like that. With Linc.

Kenzie thought back to the time she’d put a blanket over him, sleeping as best he could on her couch. When he’d lugged the new mattress upstairs to her room at Hamill’s, she’d almost given in to temptation.

It would be heaven to spend the night with him here.

She heard him coming and hastily closed the card and put it back.

Linc walked over to her. Kenzie got up a little unsteadily and allowed him to take her elbow. The night air was cold and refreshing when they went out the front door, stirred by a brisk wind that rattled the branches.

They walked the few steps to his car and Kenzie rested a hand on it, glancing up at the midnight sky and then at him.

“I don’t want to go just yet,” she whispered.

He turned her around to face him, holding her close. The dark gleam in his eyes held a tantalizing promise. “All right. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The vibration of his deep voice made her more giddy than the wine. Without hesitation, Kenzie slipped her arms around his waist and lifted her lips to his.

Linc didn’t wait to kiss her hard and deeply, his hands running over her pliant body as if she wore no clothes at all.

The wind whirled around them. The carriage lamps swayed on their mountings, casting flickering light that didn’t reach them in the shadows.

She wanted to stay in his arms forever. It was the only place where she felt truly safe.

The storm came and it stayed. By the second day, Kenzie was convinced it would never stop raining. The remembered sensation of Linc’s kisses warmed her for a while, but frustration got in the way eventually.

She wanted him. The desire was mutual—and intense. But there was just too damn much going on for that to be anything more than a highly sensual fantasy.

She helped out in the shop at the shooting range, but there weren’t very many customers. Norm told her she might as well skedaddle back upstairs. She was happy when Mrs. Corelli called to chat and even happier when the older woman accepted her offer to be with Christine for the rest of the day.

The other alternative was returning Harry Cowles’s call, which she wasn’t ready to do. None of his sketches so far resembled the man she’d seen. She was frustrated by her inability to remember him—and angry at herself.

Christine still didn’t know about the stalker. Kenzie’s instincts told her that he was concentrating on her at the moment. Maybe she was more fun to hunt. He didn’t seem to be as interested in wounded prey.

Kenzie could defend herself. And she intended to protect Christine.

She shook the thoughts away.

Christine would be glad to see her. Kenzie got ready to go and made a mad dash to her car.

Peach was curled up on Christine’s pillow, the picture of contentment.

“Ginny stopped by at the end of her rounds,” Christine explained. “She had errands to run, and she didn’t want to take Peach in the rain.”

The dog gave a sleepy sigh.

“Tough life, Peach Pie.” Kenzie laughed.

“I like having extra time with her.” Christine stroked her ears. “She’s one popular dog.”

They chatted for a little while about nothing in particular; then Christine asked an unexpected question. “Don’t you miss the dogs at the kennels?”

“Ah—yes,” she replied. “But I know they’re going away. So I try not to get too attached.”

“Oh.”

Kenzie wondered something. “Would you like to visit the kennels with me? We could, you know. Any time.”

Christine shook her head. Her face was turned slightly away from Kenzie, who couldn’t read her expression.

“Is something the matter?” Kenzie asked gently.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to go anywhere just yet.”

“Didn’t your mom and dad take you out?” Mrs. Corelli had mentioned something about it.

“We went for a drive. And I—I just got so scared.”

Kenzie came over to sit on the bed by Christine.

“You don’t have to tell me why if you don’t want to.”

Christine hesitated. “I don’t even know what road it was. We didn’t go far from here, though, I’m sure of that.”

Then they hadn’t been anywhere near the site of the accident. That made sense. Kenzie couldn’t imagine the Corellis taking her there.

“I was up front and my mom was in the back. My dad was driving.”

“Was there a lot of traffic or honking?”

She’d noticed Christine’s sensitivity to loud noise and how much she disliked feeling crowded. Chalk both up to brain trauma.

“No. The road was clear and it was sunny. But the signs went by so fast. I got disoriented.”

“Was that your first time outside the center?”

“No,” Christine said, then amended her answer. “I mean, yes, if you mean in a car. I went walking with my parents and the physical therapist lots of times. Just not with you.”

Kenzie nodded. “Go on.”

“I couldn’t help thinking that something bad was going to happen.”

Agitated, Christine shifted position, twisting her hands in her lap.

Peach picked up on it. She raised her head and then got all the way up off the pillow, moving to Christine’s side and settling down again.

Absently, Christine began to pat the dog’s rounded side, and her agitation seemed to lessen.

Peach Pie was pure, warm comfort. Better than anything Kenzie could think of to say.

“I asked them if we could go back, but I didn’t say why. We weren’t out for very long. When I got back here, I felt okay again.”

“Your mom and dad didn’t know how you’d react,” Kenzie began.

“Sometimes I wonder if they’re sick of taking care of me,” she blurted out. “Or if you are.”

“Christine, you know that’s not true.”

Kenzie was concerned, but that was beside the point. The important thing was that Christine had to be able to say what was on her mind.

She patted the dog, lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” Christine replied after a while. “Maybe it’s just that I don’t like having other people take care of me.”

Kenzie smiled. “Me neither. I totally understand why that would bother you.”

“And I wish that I could do something besides walk around the center and back to my room. And I want my words to connect with what I think. They don’t always. I get so mad when I make mistakes.”

“Patience is beautiful.”

“Stuff it,” Christine said with spirit. “I’m tired of being patient too.”

Kenzie had to laugh. “Sounds to me like you’re getting better, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“Am I? Do you think I’ll ever be able to go back to work?”

Another unexpected question. “Of course you will.”

“You know something? I miss it. I never thought I’d say that in a million years. Not about SKC.”

“Oh. Um, they are keeping your job open,” Kenzie said tentatively. There was no way she was going to explain about the defective SKC vests anytime soon.

“They’d better. The outdoor company must have hired someone else by now.”

So Christine remembered that detail. Good sign.

“They probably did,” Kenzie said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Christine looked out the window at the rain. “What? Like how cranky I am?”

“No. Don’t be silly.”

“Well, books then. Except I can’t read for longer than five minutes. There’s always movies. Seen any good ones?”

“I stopped on the way and got a couple of comedies.”

Christine made a funny face. “Are you trying to distract me?”

The dog at her side woke up and stretched, then yawned.

“Yes, I am.” Kenzie turned when she saw Christine look toward the door.

Ginny had come back. Peach jumped down to the floor and trotted over to her mistress.

“Hi, you two,” Ginny said. “Did Peach behave herself?”

“She lived up to her name,” Christine said affectionately. The dog wagged her tail in agreement. “Yes, I’m talking about you.”

“Glad to hear it. Take care, Kenzie. And you too, Christine—thanks so much for watching her.”

The three exchanged good-byes and the handler left with her dog. Kenzie took the two DVDs out of her purse and handed them to Christine.

“You pick. I don’t care which one.”

Christine looked absently at both. Then she made her choice and took out a DVD from the case, getting her laptop from the bedside table.

She opened it and stopped.

“Kenzie,” she said, “I just remembered—there was an SKC laptop at my apartment. Did they ever ask for it back?”

Reported stolen.
Kenzie didn’t say the words. She wasn’t inclined to do SKC any favors, for that reason and a few others she wasn’t going to tell Christine.