Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (54 page)

I blush at his words and I smile bashfully as I take a sip of my orange juice. I sit my glass down and pick up my fork, but as I do, Josh reaches over and takes my chin in his fingers, gently turning my face towards him. He leans in and kisses me sweetly and then smiles at me. He turns back to his breakfast then, still smiling, and I can’t stop the goofy grin that I know I must be wearing. I love him!

Oh, my God. I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
No, you dork! You didn’t say it out loud.
Oh, thank goodness! But what if I had said it out loud? I wonder, for the millionth time, what his reaction would be if he knew. Maybe it wouldn’t be like I imagine; maybe he would be overjoyed to hear it. Maybe he would even say it back! Maybe … he loves you too?

Or maybe he just doesn’t. Hell, for all I know, maybe he doesn’t even know how. He has spent half of his life avoiding romantic entanglements so, what makes me think he knows the first thing about love? He didn’t exactly have great role models as a child. Maybe I’m just fooling myself to think that we could actually be moving toward something lasting. With his troubled childhood, maybe Josh doesn’t even know what love is.

No. I refuse to believe that. Yes, he had a difficult, terrifyingly horrendous childhood but, he also had a very loving mother who doted on him because of it. And a loving aunt and uncle. Josh does know what love is; I’m convinced of that! If he didn’t, he would never be so tender and sweet with me all the time. It just wouldn’t be possible.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Josh’s voice startles me out of my troubled thoughts and I look at him distractedly.

“What?”

“You’ve barely touched your breakfast. What’s wrong?” he asks, looking concerned.

“Oh, nothing … I was just … thinking,” I mumble, clearly flustered, and I take a quick bite of scrambled eggs to try and throw him off the tracks. “I, um … I was thinking that I might go to Lola’s gallery today after my spa appointment,” I say softly.

A smile slowly spreads across Josh’s face. “Really?” He is grinning ear to ear at me and I know he thinks that I’ve come to a decision about showing my artwork.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet about doing a show,” I say hurriedly, “I just thought … it might help to talk to her.”

“Sam, I think it’s great that you’re finally considering it,” he says as he lightly squeezes my hand. “I know it’s a big step outside your comfort zone so, I’m proud of you for taking it, baby.” He releases my hand and reaches up to caress my face.

“You are?” My voice sounds so small.

“You know that I am,” he asserts, looking me in the eye. “Just go and see what she has to say, and keep an open mind. Will you take her some of your sketches to look at?”

“Hmm. Well, I hadn’t thought about that but, perhaps it’s not a bad idea. I do have images of a lot of my work stored on my laptop. I could burn a few of them to a CD and take it to her,” I say, brightening. “Thanks for the suggestion, Josh.”

He smiles at me as he takes a last sip of his coffee. “It was just a question, Sam, not a suggestion. But if it helps you, I’m glad.” He leans in and kisses me chastely. “I’ve got to go, baby.”

He stands and puts on his shoulder holster. Then I watch, fascinated, as he takes up his gun and checks to make sure it’s loaded, popping the magazine out and then back in again. He pulls the slide back and I think he’s checking to see that there’s a bullet in the chamber. And then he places the gun in his holster and grabs his jacket and turns to me with a serious expression on his face.

“Listen, Sam … I know that you only want Martin around when you’re working at the museum, but you really need to keep him close today too.”

I groan and roll my eyes as I gear up for an argument. “Josh…”

“No arguments, Samantha!” He’s ready for me and his voice is suddenly very stern, his eyes flashing at me like blue sparks of fury. “You know that this asshole is watching your every move; I don’t know why you’re even trying to argue about this!”

“Josh, I just don’t…”

“No!” He shouts and it surprises and startles me. I blink at him and I can see the frustration on his face. His jaw clenches and he runs a hand though his hair and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for yelling, Sam. I just want you safe, baby. And it bothers me that I can’t be with you 24/7.
Please.
For my peace of mind … promise me you will take Martin with you today.”

“Okay,” I say softly, giving in. “I promise.”

He caresses my face once more and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry I got angry,” he whispers.

I offer him a small smile. “It’s all right. I know you’re only upset because you like me, Detective.”

Josh smiles at me and chuckles softly. “Well … yesterday I think we established the fact that I am little bit crazy about you, Miss Colby.” His bright blue eyes sparkle at me. “And you’re crazy about me!”

“Yes, I am,” I reply softly, smiling sweetly at him. Then I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him swiftly on the lips. “Get out of here. Go catch some bad guys.”

He smiles and takes me into his arms, kissing me soundly before he pulls away. And as he walks toward the door he says, “Do me a favor … text me.”

“Text you?” I ask with a puzzled frown as he opens the door.

“Yeah. Throughout the day,” he shrugs, looking sheepish. “Text me when you get to the salon, let me know when you get home … that kind of thing.” I’m silent as I look at him with raised eyebrows, and he continues. “I’m not trying to keep tabs on you, Sam. I just want to know that you’re okay. And please, when you get home, let Martin come up here and have a look around, okay?”

“Okay,” I smile at him. He kisses me again, tenderly this time, and then he’s gone. I lock the door and then hurry to clear away the breakfast dishes. Then I dash off to get a shower and change.

I dress casually in a taupe gray, cotton, shirt dress with buttons down the front and a wide belt at the waist. The dress is one of my favorites. I bought it during one of my shopping sprees with Megan at Neiman Marcus. I just love the way it fits. It’s so comfortable and I can dress it up or down. Today, I pair it with my peep-toe Jimmy Choo taupe gray pumps and the same tiny gold hoop earrings that I wore to dinner yesterday. There. Casual enough for a morning at the spa with Megan but, dressy enough for an impromptu business meeting at the art gallery with Lola.

Once I’m dressed and coiffed, I open up my MacBook Pro laptop and begin poring over the digital images of my sketches and paintings that I have stored on my computer. I feel slightly nauseous at the thought of actually showing my work to Lola but, I have to push through it. Josh is right. Most artists wait a long time for a gallery to offer them a show and this is practically being handed to me. I should take advantage of the opportunity.

I smile as I think about the fact that Josh makes me brave. I would never have considered doing this before his encouragement. But he seems to believe in me so … maybe I should start to believe in myself a little.
He said he was proud of me!
He did say that, didn’t he? My smile gets bigger as I sift through my images and pull the ones that I think will capture Lola’s attention. But I’m careful to also pick the ones that I feel really define me as an artist. I want Lola to understand the type of work I do and to get a real feel for who I am as an artist now. I don’t want her to remember only the work I did in college.

It takes only moments for me to burn the images to a CD and then I am up and out the door, placing the disc into my gray ostrich Birkin as I go. When I step out of the elevator into the lobby of my building, I am startled to find Martin waiting there for me and I smile, rolling my eyes slightly as I walk toward him.

“Detective Pierce had you wait for me here?” I ask him.

“He did, ma’am,” Martin replies, all business.

“I suppose he also informed you that I have a busy morning planned and that you’re to shadow me?”

“He did.”

“Okay,” I say with a sigh, putting on a fake happy face as I turn to head out of the building.

“I’d be happy to drive you, ma’am,” Martin says as I head for my Maserati.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” I say glancing at him. “I promise, I won’t try to lose you and I’ll drive the speed limit. I can’t have you telling Detective Pierce that I was uncooperative.” It’s a joke, of course, but Martin doesn’t find it funny. Jeez, crack a smile sometime!

I get into my car and get underway, and I arrive at the spa thirty minutes early, as the receptionist suggested this morning on the phone, and I am immediately ushered to one of the private suites in the back. Before I strip down, I send Josh a quick text:

Arrived safely @ spa.

Just checking in as requested.

His response is immediate and it makes me smile:

Good girl.

Enjoy your pampered morning, Sunshine.

Sunshine. Will he ever tell me what that nickname means? I text him back quickly:

I will if u promise to be careful

out there today.

Again, his response comes almost immediately:

I’m always careful on the job, baby.

Don’t worry about me.

U keep Martin close n don’t

give him a hard time.

I roll my eyes at that last part and put my phone away and get ready. I’m comfortable with Elle, the technician who will be working on me; she’s the same girl who waxes my legs and underarms on a regular basis. But I have to admit, I’m just a little nervous about having hot wax spread on such a delicate area and then having it ripped off. I’ve heard that the pain is twice as bad as having your legs done. Good thing I remembered to take a couple of Advil before I left my apartment this morning.

“Good morning, Samantha,” Elle greets me cheerfully as she enters the private room. I am already lying on the table with a small cloth covering my private area, and a frisson of fear runs through me.

“Good morning,” reply nervously. And I think she can hear the anxiety in my voice.

“Now you’ve had your bikini area done before so, you have some idea of how this will go,” she says soothingly. “Are you ready to get started?”

“Um hm.” It’s all I can manage at the moment and Elle smiles reassuringly at me. She begins to chatter away, asking me all sorts of questions about my job at the museum and about Megan’s upcoming wedding and what my maid of honor’s dress looks like. I know that she’s trying to occupy my mind with something other than the pain and I’m grateful for the distraction.

About fifteen minutes later, the procedure is over and I’m pleasantly surprised that it really wasn’t as bad as I had been anticipating. Yes, it hurt but, not excruciatingly so. Certainly not so much that I would hesitate to do it again. I thank Elle for her time and for squeezing me in so unexpectedly, and I give her a sizable tip. It just seems like the right thing to do for someone who’s just waxed such a private part of my body.

I freshen up and get dressed, and then head back out to the plush waiting area where Martin sits trying to fade into the woodwork and Megan is already seated, mimosa in hand.

“Hey, there you are,” she says, a bit confused. “What are you doing coming out of the back?”

“I got here a little early this morning because I wanted to add a procedure,” I say nonchalantly, hoping that she won’t ask. But, of course, she does.

“What did you have done?” she says with a frown.

I take a deep breath and say quietly, “I got a … Brazilian.”
Crap. Am I blushing?

Megan says nothing for a moment but she is looking at me with wide, shocked eyes, and then a smile slowly spreads across her face. “I’m assuming this is Detective Yummy’s influence?”

I think I blush seven more shades of red as I nervously chew my bottom lip. “And what if it is?” I ask her. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No! Of course not,” she frowns. “I’m just … surprised, that’s all. I’ve never had a Brazilian before. How was it?”

I shrug. “Not too bad, actually.” Megan smiles at me but says nothing more and I wonder what she’s thinking.

“So, I take it things are still going good with you two?” she asks me.

“Things are going really great, Megan,” I tell her with a goofy grin. “I had dinner with his family yesterday.”

“Really? You’ve met his family already?” She sounds shocked. “Wow. He must really be into you, Sam. It was several months before Scott and I did the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing. So how was it?”

“It was nice! I really like his mom. She’s great. Oh, and get this,” I nudge her softly with my elbow, “his mom has a twin sister. Isn’t that funny? Our dads are twins and his mom has a twin! They’re identical though.”

“That is funny,” Megan says. “Might not be so funny if you two start having babies though.”

“What?” I look at her with a very puzzled expression. Who in the world said anything about babies?

“Well, there are twins in both of your families,” Megan says with a slight huff. “It’s kinda like stacking the deck against yourself.”

“Oh, Megan,” I roll my eyes at her. “You think of the weirdest things sometimes.”

“I’m just saying … it never hurts to do a little research!” She seems a little out of sorts this morning and I wonder what’s going on with her.

“So, how is Scott?” I ask her, trying to get a feel for what’s bothering her.

“He’s great,” she nods, offering no further details as she takes a sip of her mimosa.

“Any last minute wedding crises to worry about?” I venture.

“Nope. Everything’s all set. Church, flowers, caterers, music … everything.” She is looking directly ahead, avoiding eye contact with me, and I can’t help but think something is just not right.

“Meg…,” My thoughts are halted in their tracks as we are called to our manicurists chairs, and we spend the next twenty minutes chatting with them. But I notice that Meg is just not her usual bubbly self, and anytime one of them tries to ask her about the wedding, she skillfully changes the subject.

Once our nails are painted and we’re seated with our hands under the dryer while our toes are being worked on, I turn to her. “Megan, is everything okay?” I ask her conspiratorially.