Running From Fate (55 page)

James stood quietly in the doorway and watched the absolute concentration on Mira’s face as she carefully filled in details, bringing the image on the paper to life.
He wondered fleetingly what it would be like to be the object of such intense regard
from her
and felt a ridiculous spurt of envy for the inanimate figures that she drew.

He walked softly into the room, being careful
not to
disturb the puppy as he lay sleeping by Mira’s feet, and studied the sketch from a few feet away.
Something about the picture called to him in the same way that the one on the wall had earlier.
She may not have been willing to part with that one, but perhaps he could persua
de her to let go of this one
.

“Have you ever considered sell
ing your work professionally?” h
e asked.

Mira jumped slightly, but didn’t turn around.
“I did when I was
very
young,” she admitted softly.
“I had some insane idea about becoming a famous artist, but it was just a child’s fantasy.
That kind of thing rarely happens in the real world.
Besides, who would buy them?
People want blotches on paper and old portraits and landscapes that bring
great sums of money at auction
.
They’re not interested in fantasy pieces.
Particularly when the art is drawn and not painted.”

“Who filled your head with such nonsense
?
”
He walked forward and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“You have a wonderful talent and I can guaran
tee you that people would be interested
.”

The praise made Mira’s heart soar and her cheeks flush, but it didn’t change her mind.
Her art was a part of her and, even though it made her feel like a coward, she couldn’t share it with the world
.
If she was rejected or
,
worse
,
ridiculed it would be too painful.

“Thank you for that,” she finally said, “but I already have a job that I enjoy.
My drawing is just a silly hobby.”

“Hobby or not, would you at least consider selling the one you
’
r
e
working on to me?
I’ll pay whatever you think
it’s
worth.”

She
smiled softly, secretly pleased that he liked it so much.
“I’m sorry, but it’s not for sale.”

“I’ll give you
five hundred for it
. 
No, make that a thousand.”  He
wasn’t sure why it was so important, but he had to have the picture.
She shook her head and he started to pace, trying to think of another approach.
“Wait a second,” he continued as inspiration struck.
“What if you gave it to me?”

She turned around and caught the look of veiled desperation in his eyes.
Whether he realized it or not, he was asking for something much greater tha
n
just a picture.
She had to tread carefully or risk leaving herself much more vulnerable than she wished to be.
She was still
way
too unsure of h
is feelings to do that.
“Do you want me to give it to you?”

He stopped in front of her and stared squarely into her eyes.
“Do you want me to have it?”
He waited, breath held, for her answer, suddenly feeling that he stood on the very edge of a great chasm.

This was getting ridiculous, Mira thought, and it was time she ended it.
All it would take was a little courage.
“The truth is James…”
She could drown in the depths of his eyes.

The doorbell rung imperiously, but they both ignored it.

“What,” he asked quietly.
He was aware that his heart was pounding in a furious beat and his blood was already racing.
He needed to hear it, just once.

The doorbell sounded again.
This time one, long sustained note.
James swore
ripely
.

“I can tell that you’re in there,” an irritated voice sounded outside.
“If you don’t answer the door James I’m coming in whether you’re dressed or not.”

James ran his hand through his hair in an irritated gesture and stalked from the room, Zeus at his heels.
“We will finish this,”
he called back
.

As soon as he was gone, Mira walked over to the
papasan
chair sitting in the corner and sank down.
She wasn’t sure if she had dodged a proverbial bullet or missed out on a wonderful opportunity, but either way her legs were still shaky.
She had barely caught her breath when he came back in, followed by Detective Moore.
James immediately crossed over to her and laid his hand on her shoulder
in either a proprietary or comforting gesture, she wasn’t sure which.

After casting an amused glance at his friend, Devon leaned against the drafting table and crossed his ankles.
“Sorry to bu
r
st in lik
e th
is
,” he said to Mira, “but I‘ve
a few questions to ask you that will hopefully clear some things up.”

“Have you learned something new?
Is that why you’re here?”
She lifted her legs up and curled her arms around her knees.

“We haven’t caught the man yet,” he answered.
“However, we have discovered who he is.”

“I just need a name.”
James lifted his hand off Mira’s shoulder and curled both
hands
into fists.
“And I’ll be able to find him.”

“The police will handle it.”
  Devon’s voice was as hard as rock.  He obviously knew James very well.

The two men stared stonily at each other, neither one willing to give ground.
Not only were they completely ignoring the fact that she was the injured party, but they were both acting like adolescents.
Mira was about to step in when the detective sighed and relaxed.

“Look,” he said.
“I understand some of what you’re feeling, but we have to handle this properly or the bastard could walk.”

“Fine,” James conceded, unclenching his jaw, “but when you catch him I want to be in on the questioning.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excuse me,” Mira interrupted, heartily sick of being ignored.
“Don’t I have some say in this?”
Both men stared at her blankly as if they had forgotten that she was even there.
She sighed, j
ust ready to get this over with
so she could forget about the whole situation.
“In any case,” she directed at the detective.
“Didn’t you have some questions that you needed to ask me?”

He shook his head as if to clear it.
“
Do you have any more enemies?” h
e blurted out.

“What!
Do you think I go around just t
rying to find people to annoy?”

“
Sorry, that came out wrong,”
he said in a conciliatory tone.  “
Please
just
answer the question.
”

She thought hard about it, but came up with nothing, at least nothing that made sense.
She shook her head and found herself curious.
“Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m not sure if it’s anything,
but we found a blond hair when w
e re-examined the evidence from the break-in.”

Mira frowned, not sure if she understood.
“I’m
certain
you’re aware that Kimberly Roberts has blond hair.
So what seems to be the problem?”

His forehead creased.
“The thing is,” he said carefully.
“I’m not fully convinced that she was the perpetrator.
She doesn’t fit the M.O.”

“What is it with you men!?” Mira seethed.
“Can’t y
ou see past a pretty face and
big
boobs
?”

“Well,” Devon backed toward the door.
“If you remember anything else, give me a call.
”
He turned and walked swiftly from the room.

“I’ll show you out.”
James rounded the chair and hurried after him, aware that a speedy retreat was in order.
He carefully shut the door behind him.

Mira sniffed in indignation and got up to put away her drawing things.
Right now she didn’t feel like working on a present for James.

“I don’t understand what you’re still doing here.”  Mira finished chopping carrots for the soup she was making and sat the knife down so that she could properly glare at the sofa where James was stretched out watching some gruesome crime show on TV.  It had been over two weeks since Detective Moore had
come
over and neither Kim nor the man who had attacked her had been caught.  In fact, besides an almost fender bender caused by some idiot texting while he drove, nothing remotely dangerous or threatening had happened.

The fear had faded and she just wanted to forget the whole thing.  James, however, seemed to have other ideas because he was still hovering, refusing to let her run alone, and performing a security check every night.  If she really thought he could be falling in love with her, she might assume his overprotective behavior was an excuse for hiding the fact that he didn’t want to leave her company.  Unfortunately, she didn’t buy it as they hadn’t even continued their earlier conversation.  For now, it could just as easily be that he was sick of Winston’s cooking or that he really was extremely paranoid.

Her gaze must be burning a hole in his skull by now, but he didn’t even turn around.  She picked up the knife again and contemplated throwing it just to get his attention, but opted to work on the celery instead.  “Why did you insist on a security system when you obviously don’t think it can protect me?” she continued.  “And for that matter why not bring your things here instead of driving home all the time or getting your poor, overworked butler to come over?”

James muted the TV and turned to grin at her over the back of the sofa.  “Are you asking me to move in because that’s a pretty big step?  I mean you’d have to completely rearrange you
r wardrobe.  But,” he added.
“
If
you’re sure about it I’ll give it some thought.”