The Shelter of His Arms (Harlequin Heartwarming) (15 page)

“You said you’ve been thinking about what I suggested,” he continued.

“Yes, I have.”

“We had a lot of good times together, Celeste.”

“We did,” she agreed, although “a lot” was a decided exaggeration.

“And I’ve learned my lesson. I really have.”

“Well, I guess that’s one of my biggest problems with your proposition,” she said slowly.

“The way I moved out and Donna moved right in made me realize you didn’t really care that I’d left. And if you’d reached the stage of having so little feeling for me, I don’t see how—”

“Celeste, that wasn’t it. I hadn’t stopped loving you—I just made a stupid mistake. I know that now. I realized it almost immediately. But she gave me an ultimatum. Said that either she moved in with me or we were through. And I was so upset because
you
were gone...

“There’s no point in dwelling on that, though. As I said, I made a mistake—both by getting involved with Donna in the first place and by giving in to what she wanted. And I know I can’t apologize enough for being such an idiot. But she’s completely out of the picture now.”

“You’re sure about that? She’s turned up and you’ve talked to her?”

“Well...no, I haven’t heard from her. And I can’t say that makes me unhappy. Celeste, she’s a crazy woman. So crazy I can’t believe I didn’t realize that when I first met her.

“But the important thing is she’s out of my life now. And I don’t want her back in it. I want
you
back.”

When he covered her hand with his, she resisted the urge to pull hers away.

“No matter what Donna might say or do in the future,” he continued, “I—”

“Small world, isn’t it.”

Celeste’s startled glance flashed to Evan Reese. He’d materialized beside their table and was staring at Bryce’s hand on hers.

“You here again, me here again,” he said, his gaze shifting to her face. “Must be a function of our cosmic connection.”

She simply removed her hand from Bryce’s and said nothing, but she knew it was far more likely a function of her having told him she came here all the time.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a couple at a nearby table looking her way—and realized they must be the detectives Hank had promised.

All right, then. She could relax. If things got out of hand, they’d step in. But surely she could deal with Evan Reese. She’d had enough practice over the past little while.

When she turned toward him once more, he smiled as if they were best buddies. Then he glanced curiously at Bryce and she had to introduce them.

“I saw you yesterday,” Reese said as Bryce rose to shake hands. “After the service. You seemed to be having such an intense conversation with Celeste that I wondered who you were.”

“I’m her husband,” Bryce told him, sitting down again.

Reese’s expression went cold. Celeste stopped breathing. She didn’t know what he’d say next, but she was certain it wouldn’t make her happy.

“Your husband,” he said slowly, staring at her. “I thought you were divorced.”

“You thought wrong,” Bryce said, smiling to show he was merely clearing up the misconception—in a friendly way.

Reese icily said, “Really,” and didn’t smile back.

Bryce caught her gaze and silently asked her to explain what was going on.

She only wished she knew. Reese was the proverbial loose cannon.

“Well, you
are
a busy woman, aren’t you,” Reese said. “I’m starting to wonder if there’s room for me in your life. I mean, between a husband and a boyfriend...”

She didn’t say a word when he paused, and she knew Bryce wasn’t about to, either. As curious as he had to be, he was too smart to let Reese manipulate him into any sort of scene.

Finally, Reese turned to him and said, “You
do
know about the boyfriend, don’t you? The police detective?”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Detective Ballantyne. You probably saw me talking to
him
after the service, too.”

“Detective
Ballantyne?
” Reese’s voice jumped an octave on Hank’s name.

“You’re even busier than I thought,” he told Celeste.

Then he looked at Bryce again. “No, I meant Detective Travis Quinn.
He’s
the one she’s practically living with. Or maybe I should leave out the
practically.
”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sunday, October 10, 1:41 p.m.

C
ELESTE
STOPPED
BREATHING
once more. How did Reese know she was staying with Travis? Should she ask him or not? And if he knew, who else did?

Both he and Bryce were staring at her now, and she simply couldn’t decide what to do.

“You’re wondering how I found out what you and Quinn are up to, aren’t you,” Reese said at last.

She gave him the most casual shrug she could manage.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you Friday night. I felt uncomfortable about the way we’d left things between us. We were here for lunch,” he explained to Bryce. “And we had a bit of a...disagreement.

“At any rate,” he said, turning back to Celeste, “I figured if I phoned I’d only get your machine, so I decided to pay you a visit. And when you weren’t home, I waited. Only, you never showed.”

“Are you saying you waited all night?” Bryce asked.

“My car has a good heater. It was comfortable enough. But the whole time,” he continued to Celeste, “I was wondering where you could be. Then yesterday, at the service, I realized where.

“Quinn was there, pretending he wasn’t paying the slightest attention to you but actually keeping an eye on you the whole time.

“I found that pretty strange, until I figured out that the two of you just didn’t want people to realize you were...close. Then it struck me that maybe you’d gotten
really
close.

“So this morning, when you weren’t home again, I went down to West Twenty-eighth—his address is in the book. And after I sat watching from my car for a while, what do you think I saw? You and him coming out of his place, acting all lovey-dovey before you got into that cab.”

Reese had clearly finished his explanation, but Celeste just didn’t know what she should say.

There was a long moment of silence, then Bryce said, “Well, it sounds as if you should be a detective yourself, Mr. Reese. And it was nice meeting you. But before you arrived, Celeste and I were in the middle of discussing something important, so...”

“So you’d like me to leave.”

When neither she nor Bryce corrected his conclusion, Reese said, “Well. Enjoy your lunch.”

Without even looking at her again, he turned away.

As he walked out of the restaurant, she murmured, “Thank you,” to Bryce.

“You handled that really well,” she added—thinking that right this instant she was feeling far more kindly toward him than she had in a long time.

Then she remembered the contract and went cold inside.

“Who
is
he?” Bryce said, his voice quiet, but his tone telling her he was angry.

“He was a patient of Steve’s. And for some reason he’s convinced that we should be friends.”

“I see. And what about this Detective Travis Quinn?”

She tried merely shrugging, although she knew it would only buy her a few seconds.

“
Are
you living with him?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all afternoon.”

He waited, glaring at her, while she racked her brain for something to say.

She didn’t intend to tell him she was staying with Travis because of the contract on her. Not after Hank had said that knowing about it when the Ice Man wasn’t aware they knew was a big advantage.

Finally, Bryce drained his wineglass, then said, “Well, I hope you enjoyed your revenge—even if it did get cut short.”

“My revenge?”

“How long were you going to keep it up? Pretending you were actually considering a reconciliation with me, when you’re living with some cop?”

She nervously licked her lips, thinking that keeping quiet had to be her best move.

“You know, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got a serious problem when it comes to women,” he muttered. “I totally misread Donna. And I lived with you for three years without realizing you’d ever do anything as calculatedly cruel as this. So, as I said, I hope you enjoyed it.”

With that, Bryce rose, tossed a couple of twenties onto the table, then strode out to the street.

* * *

T
RAVIS
WAS
STILL
SITTING
in the restaurant across from Zia’s, his breathing pretty well back to normal.

His body had gone onto red alert when Evan Reese had shown up. And it had stayed that way while he’d watched the pantomime that ensued between Celeste, Reese and Wayland.

The entire time, he’d been wishing he could hear as well as see. But at least he knew that nothing awful had happened. And he’d managed to more or less relax once Reese left.

Now, with Wayland marching angrily down the sidewalk, both men were gone.

After paying his bill, he gazed over at Celeste again. He wanted to be with her right this second, but he’d be smarter to stay where he was for a few more minutes, in case Reese or Wayland reappeared.

Finally, he pushed back his chair and started for the door. Outside, there was no sign of either man—although that didn’t guarantee they were both really gone.

Celeste spotted him when he was halfway across the street, and her relief was apparent. It made him wonder if there’d
ever
come a time when she’d simply look glad to see him, when she wouldn’t be living in fear.

Several people in Zia’s glanced at him as he walked in. Two of them, a couple sitting near Celeste, he made as detectives.

He gave them a subtle nod, thinking they’d probably overheard at least some of what had been said, which put them ahead of him.

“Am I glad to see
you,
” Celeste murmured as he reached her.

He was dying to wrap his arms around her and hug her half to death. Instead, he merely said, “After the company you’ve been keeping, I’m not surprised. But come on, let’s get out of here.”

He led the way to the back door and into the alley, speaking briefly to the uniform posted there, then taking Celeste’s hand and starting rapidly in the direction of his car.

“So what happened?” he asked as they walked.

By the time they reached the Mustang, she’d finished telling him.

Before he started the engine, he gave her that hug, and holding her felt so good it required a major effort to stop. But he wanted to get away from here.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he pulled out of the parking garage.

Good question. His apartment was obviously no longer an option. Now that Wayland knew where she’d been staying, the Ice Man would, as well. So where
did
they go?

After considering and rejecting a few possibilities, he settled on one he liked. That decision made, he figured he’d better tell her about Hank’s father.

“Oh, Travis,” she murmured after he had. “Hank must be feeling...”

He glanced at her and she shook her head. “I know exactly how he’s feeling. My father died of a sudden heart attack. Then my mother...well, I’m only too aware of how losing a parent hits people.

“You never really think about what an important part of your life your parents are, a part that’s always been there. Then, suddenly, poof, there’s a big void. And you wouldn’t believe how often you find yourself thinking about him. Or her.”

He reached for her hand, trying to imagine how it would be to walk into his parents’ place and not have his mother hurry to hug him. Or his father make some corny remark about hoping he’d try to not eat them out of house and home this time.

“What about his little boy?” Celeste asked.

“He’ll be okay. Their housekeeper is like a grandmother to him.”

Turning his attention back to his driving, he cut over to Ninth, where the traffic was lighter. After that, it didn’t take long to reach the unpretentious little Shantyre Hotel.

When they got there he parked in the lot beside it, choosing a space at the rear and snugging the Mustang up close to the car facing it so his plates couldn’t be seen without effort.

For half a second, he debated asking Celeste to wait in the car while he made sure Al Catucci was still the manager. But he didn’t really want her out of his sight, so he took her inside with him.

“This way,” he said, starting across the modest lobby.

He ignored the desk clerk, who looked as though he couldn’t care less about them, anyway, and headed directly to the manager’s office—offering up a silent prayer of thanks when he saw that Al’s name was still on the door.

It was half-open, so he just gave a single knock and stuck his head in.

“Detective Quinn,” Al said, grinning at him. “Good to see you. What can I do for you?” he added as they stepped inside.

“We need a safe place to lay low for a night or two.”

Al didn’t say another word. He simply rose from his desk and walked out of the office. A minute later he was back with a room key.

“Stay for as long as you need to,” he said, handing it over. “And nobody will know who you are except me.”

“Thanks. I appreciate this a lot.”

“No problem. October’s a low-occupancy month.”

Celeste murmured a thank-you. Then, once they’d started for the room, quietly said, “A good friend?”

“Actually, just an acquaintance. But this place is in the two-four precinct, which is where I worked before I joined Homicide. And my partner and I defused a situation here a few years ago. Something that might have cost Al his job. I was hoping he hadn’t forgotten.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, and once they were inside their room Travis reached for Celeste and kissed her.

They had a lot of thinking to do, but it could wait for a while. At the moment, reminding her how much he cared was more important.

* * *

“I
’
LL
BE
THERE
,” the Ice Man said into his cellular.

“You’re clear on exactly where it is.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“And you understand you have to be right on time. That’s crucial.”

“Of course I understand,” he muttered, his annoyance growing with every stupid instruction.

“Good, then I’ll see you.”

“Yeah.” He clicked off and tossed the phone onto his bed, telling himself not to worry. He’d been waiting so long for the go-ahead call that he should just be glad it had finally come. Problem was, this job kept bothering him more and more.

He didn’t mind too much being told when. Not usually. But the “when” had never been this specific before. That really bugged him. Like he was a kid being reminded to get to school on time or something.

And he didn’t like being told where. Didn’t like that at all.

He’d scoped out Celeste Langley’s street. Then Travis Quinn’s. Had figured out how he could get in and out of the areas fast. Possible escape routes if there was any problem.

But now, to walk into a strange place, cold...

Cold.
He was the Ice Man, why should he be concerned about walking into a place cold?

His little joke didn’t make him smile. Maybe his client figured this was the perfect place for a hit, but his client wasn’t the pro.

Still, it sounded all right. Sounded pretty good, actually. No one anywhere around except him, the client and his target. But things weren’t always as good as people made them out to be.

Shaking his head, he wished once again that he’d never taken the money for this job. Or that he’d asked for double his regular fee.

Because what he didn’t like most of all was surprises. In this case, being hit with a major change at the last moment.

Tomorrow, he decided, he’d pay that little creep Giovanni a visit. And make it real clear he didn’t want the guy sending him any more clients with marbles where their brains should be.

* * *

T
RAVIS
HAD
SHOWERED
FIRST
, and when he came out of the bathroom Celeste was sitting on the bed with the pillows propped up against the headboard and the top sheet tucked modestly around her.

She was apparently lost in thought, so he wandered over to the window and just stood gazing out.

After a while, he turned from the window and said, “What are you thinking?”

She gave him a wan smile. “About how I told Evan Reese that Zia’s was one of my favorite restaurants. And how I’m glad it really isn’t. Because I’ll never be able to show my face in there again.

“I mean, twice now, the man I was supposed to have lunch with stormed out on me. Without ordering any food. If they saw me coming again they’d lock the door.”

Travis gave her major points for even
trying
to see humor in what had happened, then said, “You know what?”

“What?”

“That’s the absolute least of our worries. There are a zillion restaurants where you’ll still be welcome.”

“You’re right. And having to leave Snoops on his own tonight isn’t a serious problem, either. There’s lots of food down. He’ll be fine.”

He nodded, aware they were making small talk to avoid getting into a discussion about where they should go from here.

Maybe that was because they were both feeling as if they didn’t have many options, although he
did
have an idea. He was just reluctant to tell her about it because it involved her. And, ideally, she shouldn’t leave this room until he’d gotten to the bottom of things.

But considering how little progress he’d made thus far, that might take forever. And he doubted she’d go for the idea of being cooped up indefinitely.

“What would you think about staying here for longer than a night or two?” he asked, deciding to test the waters.

She held his gaze for a moment, then said, “I could live with that. As long as you’re here with me.”

“Well, I’d be gone some of the time.”

“Travis...I don’t want to be alone in a strange place. Sitting here, jumping at every sound. We considered my going to a hotel in the first place, remember? Before we decided I’d stay with you. And...I’d just be too nervous.”

“Then maybe you should leave town. And I’m not talking about a fictional friend in Connecticut. I’m thinking far away. San Francisco or someplace.”