Chapter Eleven
Raquelle had to admit that she was a little giddy, like a teenager on a first date, going to Landon’s condo for dinner.
It had been years since they ate a dinnertime meal together.
But the time apart and reflection—along with them having a common purpose in finding Eddie—had softened the strained nature of their relationship.
She had no idea if their chemistry and kissing meant there was more to come or if it was just a mutual pause in the status quo for old times’ sake.
After driving into the underground parking garage, Raquelle parked in a guest spot and headed for the elevator. With her hair down, she wore a rose-colored midi shirtdress and brown slingback sandals. Hope I’m not over- or underdressed, she thought when riding up to the condo.
When Landon opened the door, he beamed at her. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Raquelle smiled back. “I might be a little early.”
He countered, “In fact, you’re right on time. The food’s ready. Come in.”
“Thank you.” She stepped inside the condo, her nostrils immediately picking up the appealing scent of dinner.
Landon closed the door and said, giving her a once-over, “You look great.”
“Thanks, again.” Raquelle blushed. She took him in, noting that he was freshly shaven and wearing a lilac-colored herringbone shirt, dark blue pants, and black loafers. “You clean up nicely yourself,” she had to say truthfully.
“I try my best when a good opportunity to get out of work attire presents itself.” He flashed his teeth. “So, this is it—the place I’ve been renting for half a year now.”
Raquelle scanned the condo’s layout and furnishings before stating, “It’s wonderful, Landon. Suits you, actually.”
“You think?”
“Yes, for a single man on the go.” Did I really just give a stamp of approval for my ex-husband’s bachelor life as a divorcé? Raquelle asked herself. “It’s just a nice, charming condo,” she tried to correct.
“Glad you approve.” Landon laughed. “I was lucky to land it. That being said, it doesn’t really compare to the house we bought and its charms. I’m happy that you agreed to keep it and watch the value grow over time.”
“Thanks to you,” Raquelle said, giving credit to where it was due. Even if she felt a little guilty in getting the better of the deal in their divorce settlement.
Landon told her, “In all fairness, it was the least I could do to try and end things between us on a good note and make sure you were left with something wholly deserving.”
She colored, feeling almost speechless in his selflessness at a time when the legality of their romance had come to a crashing halt. “I appreciate it,” she managed to say before zeroing in on the familiar acoustic guitar on a wooden guitar stand. “I see you’re still playing the guitar.”
“Yeah, a bit.” Landon gazed at it. “I’m afraid that more often than not it just collects dust these days. My bad.”
“I agree—as you’re a good guitarist,” she stressed.
“Thanks,” he said. “But I’d take your piano playing over my guitar any day of the week, if I could.”
“Hmm…” She met his eyes thoughtfully. “Maybe we’ll get to play together again one of these days.”
“I would definitely be on board with that.” He grinned. “Well, feel free to freshen up—there’s a half bath just off the kitchen—and I’ll serve dinner.”
“Smells wonderful.”
“Hope you like it just as much.”
After washing her hands, Raquelle joined Landon in the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”
“Anything you want,” he said half-jokingly. “Plates are in there—” he pointed at the two-toned upper cabinets “—and glasses in that one. Silverware’s already out.”
She smiled. “Setting the table coming right up.”
He nodded. “As for the meal itself, I decided to go with braised chicken thighs, pasta salad, dinner rolls, and white wine to wash it down.”
“Spoken like a true chef,” Raquelle said with a chuckle. “Who would’ve thought?” Since she’d done much of the cooking during their marriage, this was a new and exciting side to him that she would need to get used to.
“Not me.” Landon laughed. “I’m not quite ready to give up my day job just yet, but I’ve gotten used to having to cook for myself every now and then—when not taking the easy way out.”
“Since when have you ever taken the easy way out of anything?” she challenged him, knowing that he rarely did anything without giving thought to it beforehand. For better or worse.
“Good point.” He chuckled and grabbed the plate with the chicken thighs. “Let’s go eat.”
They sat on rustic reclaimed curved-back cowhide chairs at the barnwood pedestal dining table.
Raquelle proclaimed, “Mmm, this is delicious!”
Landon laughed. “Glad you’re enjoying the food. I’m still kind of a work in progress as a chef but will happily take the compliment.”
“You should,” she told him, shamelessly forking more pasta salad. “It’s really good.”
“Thanks.” He sliced his knife into a chicken thigh. “Yeah, it’s tasty—but I’m enjoying the company even more, to be honest about it.”
“Is that so?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.
“Yes,” he told her flatly. “It’s nice having you around again.”
“I feel the same,” she admitted, even if unsure what it meant in the evolution of their involvement with one another.
Landon grinned, sipping wine. “Good.”
They were more than halfway through with the meal when Raquelle asked curiously, “What will happen to your case if Eddie isn’t able to fulfill his part of the bargain as your CI?”
“We have more than enough to get a conviction of the main players in our investigation of Native American art forgery and theft,” Landon told her.
“When we have all our ducks lined up, we’ll push forward.
” He angled his face. “Eddie still remains an integral part of the case,” he stressed.
“He can fill in some blanks that only someone with real inside intel can accomplish.”
Raquelle gazed across the table contemplatively. “Assuming they haven’t already finished off my brother…” I hate to go there with such a relaxing meal, but ignoring the real possibilities won’t make them disappear, she told herself, biting into a dinner roll.
“It’s an assumption I’m not ready to make—and neither should you,” Landon argued. “We’ll continue to search for Eddie with the belief that until his body shows up, he’s still with us—”
She nodded, grateful for his support and hopefulness that her brother was alive and well. “Thank you.”
“There is one thing you might need to consider,” he told her, a break in his voice. “If we do find Eddie and he’s able to testify, he may need to go into the Witness Security Program for his own safety.”
Raquelle flinched, having gotten some basic knowledge on the federal WITSEC as the former wife of an FBI special agent.
The idea of finding Eddie only to lose him again as her only living relative was heartbreaking.
But needing to look over his shoulder twenty-four seven would be even worse for him—and her.
“I understand,” she said, tasting her wine. “Convincing Eddie may not be so easy. But I’m sure he would prefer to set up shop elsewhere and live a normal life, rather than continually put himself at risk.”
“I think so too,” Landon told her, lifting his own wineglass. “Anyway, I just wanted to throw that out there as something to consider down the line.”
“I’ll do that,” Raquelle promised while knowing that they weren’t quite at the point for looking too far ahead on this front.
Not with Eddie still missing—his whereabouts unknown.
But where it concerned their own relationship, she was beginning to believe that looking ahead wasn’t a bad thing.
Especially when she could see herself being with Landon again.
Or was that not where things were headed?
* * *
“NOW IT’S MY turn to ask you to play music—on your guitar,” Raquelle said after they had cleared the table.
Landon smiled. “Okay, sure.”
They walked over to the guitar, and he grabbed it, wondering if this would be a good time to serenade her with a song like the old days. Maybe not just yet. He wasn’t quite ready to push the envelope, preferring that she took the lead for what might happen.
Landon started playing the guitar, keeping the rock song lighthearted and fun. Raquelle laughed, clearly enjoying it.
“That was nice,” she told him when he finished.
It will be nicer when we can combine my guitar and your piano playing in perfect harmony, he thought, but he said smoothly, “Thanks.”
Raquelle eyed him and asked boldly, “So, do you want to show me where you sleep?”
“I’d be happy to.” Landon kept his voice on an even keel, though his heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “This way.”
He led her down a short hall to the primary bedroom that had its own en suite and watched as she scanned the spacious room with its farmhouse furnishings and large windows. Her gaze fell on the rustic king bed and its dark orange duvet cover.
“Nice,” Raquelle marveled.
Not half as nice as it was sharing a primary suite with you what seems like ages ago but is still very fresh in my memories, Landon told himself. He responded, “Thanks. It gets the job done for the intended purpose.”
She eyed him desirously. “Think it can do the same for unintended—or impulsive—purposes…?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” he assured her without hesitation.
“Hmm… Let’s see about that…” Raquelle lifted her chin and waited for him to kiss her lips. “Go for it!”
Landon grinned. He was more than happy to oblige as he took her cheeks in his hands and brought their mouths together in a stirring, passionate kiss. It’s such a turn-on kissing you, he thought, fully aware of the contours of their bodies pressed close together.
She pulled back and, gazing into his eyes, asked, “Is going down this road really a good idea?”
He held the gaze and answered, “Yes—one that I’d say has been years in the making. I want you, Raquelle.”
“I want you too,” she stressed, pausing. “I’m not on the pill.”