Lying Eyes (21 page)

Angela's face lit. "I told you she's smart. You deserve a good dressing down."

"Mom—"

"I know, and I'm proud of you. Enough said."

"What's for dinner? It sure smells good."

"One of your favorites.
Pasta Rizzoli
and that crusty bread you like from Sampson's Bakery. Want to open the wine?"

Carlo was on his second helping of soup when Angela said, "I hope you've learned your lesson and don't plan to start ordering Allison around again. Independent, intelligent women don't require as much help as you think."

"I plan to apologize to her as soon as she lets me in and let her dump on me for as long as she wants. When she finally runs out of names to call me I'm going to tell her how much I love her and invite her to move in with me."

"Slow down, son. You mustn't take Allison's feelings for you for granted. Once you have her ear, take your time. There's no fire. You don't want to frighten her off, and you sure don't want to come across as being bossy when it comes to matters of the heart."

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B
efore she ate lunch on Saturday Allison browned a cut-up chicken and started it fricasseeing in the crock pot. Cooking for Carlo would give her hands something to do and keep her from biting her nails.

By the time she'd scrubbed and oiled two man-sized potatoes for baking and tore greens for a tossed salad, she was wishing she'd planned a more elegant meal.

An entree that required more preparation would have diverted my mind from the coming confrontation with Carlo.

Why had he asked to see her?

To beat a dead horse again is one possibility.

Some men can't leave well enough along.

No, Carlo is not one of those.

Over the phone he'd sounded different. Unsure of himself even, and more reserved.

Had facing the possibility of immortality changed him? Made him feel less manly? Less alpha?

She hoped not. She wouldn't want to change a single hair on his curly head.

It would be mindboggling if he'd decided to make room in his life for her.

Don't get your hopes up. Expecting too much from this encounter could be a disaster.

She started the potatoes baking at five. She'd told Carlo to come at six, but now wished she'd told him to come earlier. She didn't want to wait another moment to find out what was on his mind.

A long, hot shower eased her tension and as she dressed in her favorite jeans—Carlo's too, for that matter—and a sequined top sporting a sexy plunging neckline, butterflies took flight in her stomach.

Am I doing the right thing?

Would she be sorry for opening this sealed door?

If I am, I can always slam it shut again.

The doorbell rang while she was brushing her hair into a golden halo around her shoulders. She forced herself to stroll to the door and let Carlo in when she really wanted to skip.

Without a word he handed her a bottle of white wine, strode to the center of the room and glanced around before saying, "Nice digs."

"It's not mine. I'm just camping out here while the friend who owns this condo tours Italy. I intend to find a place of my own as soon as I have time to search."

"The new job keeping you busy?"

"Busier than I expected. Learning my way around this sprawling metropolis is time consuming. Thankfully my cameraman was raised here and has been a lot of help. How are you, Carlo? You look tired."

He flinched. "Unnerved might be a better word. Now that I'm here, I don't know where to begin."

"Why did you want to see me?"

He plowed his fingers through his thick hair. "This could take a while. Do you mind if we sit?"

"Of course not. How thoughtless of me. Please, sit. Would you like something to drink?

"A glass of water would be great. I had a long drive."

"The reason I decided not to settle in this neighborhood, although I dearly love to jog in Century City Park. Excuse me a minute while I get your water."

She let the glass fill slowly, giving her time to settle her thoughts.

Carlo has changed. He's no longer the take-charge man I knew and loved. It's as if getting shot shook him to his core.

"Here you go," she said, placing a tall crystal goblet on the glass-topped lamp table beside his chair.

"Thanks."

"Looks like your rehab was successful. How did it go?"

"I no longer walk with a limp. That's something, but leg cramps keep waking me up at night."

"Eating bananas helps. What does your doctor say?"

"To be patient. The cramps will eventually go away."

"Patience. Sounds familiar."

"I didn't come to talk about my rehab."

"Then why
did
you come?"

"To apologize in person. In the hospital, those things I said, I never meant to hurt you. Sending you away was the hardest thing I ever did, and the last thing I wanted to do. When you walked out of my room I tried so hard to go after you I nearly broke my leg. A resident passing my room restrained me."

Carlo inhaled a ragged breath. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"I may, if you tell me what was going through your head that day."

"I'd convinced myself I'd failed you and decided I was incapable of keeping you or anyone safe. The psychologist that Internal Affairs insisted I see told me getting shot is a life changing moment. For a while I tried to shift my guilt at not shooting the perp to you, but he saw right through that, too."

"To me?"

"We'd become close, something I never should have let happen. The victim of a crime and the cop responsible for her safety—the Department has rules about—"

"Intimacy. You told me, but your warning came too late. There was no escape. I had—"

"—already crawled into my bed." He suppressed a guilty grin. "In just a matter of days, we were deeply involved."

"We couldn't help ourselves—"

"I agree, but our emotional attachment nearly cost both our lives."

"How?"

"I should have shot Ram as soon as I realized he was holding a gun on you. I had the drop on him, but I announced my presence instead—another LAPD rule—in hopes the perp would surrender while he had the chance. I held my fire a second too long, fearing for your life. Then the perp started shooting and—"

Carlo noisily inhaled. "You know the rest."

He swallowed half a glass of water and set the glass down. "For hours on end I lay in the hospital reliving the shooting from every angle. I convinced myself it was
your
fault, that I never would have been shot if you hadn't climbed into my bed."

"My—"

He held up his hand, effectively halting her objection, but not her anger.

"I was wrong. I can admit it, now. My counselor helped me see I had a hero complex. I mistakenly believed I could save the world but failed to, and that knowledge has been eating me alive. It probably started with the death of my little brother."

He cleared his throat. "The counselor convinced me that if it had been any other woman standing on the landing with Ram I'd have felt the same way about not being able to save her. Loving you had nothing to do with my guilt feelings about being unable to keep you safe, but my love for you had everything to do with my wanting to see you again."

Allison's anger vanished and she joyfully smiled. "I knew you loved me. I'd seen it in your eyes, eyes that never lie, and knew the hurtful words you spouted from your hospital bed were all lies. As I gazed into your eyes, trying to absorb the meaning of your words, your eyes told a different story. Their depths revealed your heart was breaking, too. I decided not to hang around and try to change your mind. The things I wanted to say would have hurt you more."

"So you walked right out of my life."

"Only because you asked me to," she achingly whispered and opened her arms to him. "Have you come to make me part of your life again?"

Tugging her to her feet, Carlo tenderly enclosed her in his loving arms.

This is what I missed most.

Sighing deeply, she snuggled against his firm chest.

Long moments passed while his tongue explored the recesses of her welcoming mouth and she clung to her uptight detective, content.

The ding of the oven timer broke the silence.

With a quiet chuckle, Carlo loosened his hold on her. "Sounds like dinner is ready. I'm glad you decided to cook. These delicious smells are killing me. What can I do to help?"

"Want to open the wine?" she asked, then gave him a puzzled look. "Why are you grinning at me?"

"Mom asked me the same question last night."

"How is Angela?"

"Relieved she no longer has me underfoot."

"Then you did move in with her for a while? During your surgery, she told me she hoped you would."

"I did, and for several weeks she was in seventh heaven seeing to my needs again."

"I admire Angela and hope I'm as happy and content as she is when I'm her age."

Carlo grinned. "Mom thinks the world of you, too."

"She does?"

"Yes, she made me swear not to rush you into sharing my house."

"You're inviting me to move in with you?"

"Only if you love me and want to spend the rest of your life with me. You
never
gave up on me and you've finally convinced me I'll be better off loving you than trying to go it alone."

"I do. Love you, I mean. And yes, I can't wait to move in with you. Is tomorrow soon enough?"

Carlo's grin became a full-fledged smile and he opened his arms to her.

"I love a decisive woman."

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The End

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T
oni Noel spent her child-rearing years working to secure a library for her community and presenting puppet shows created to open the minds and eyes of underprivileged children to the joy of the written word. She's spending her golden years in Southern California with her husband and looking forward to the day her local library shelves her books.

Watch for more of Toni's novels about safe havens for the heart at
http://www.DesertBreezePublishing.com
, and visit Toni's website at
http://www.toninoelauthor.com
.