Wednesday, December 28
Garrett groggily glanced at his watch. It was later than he had expected. Clearly, he was just as exhausted as Angelica, who was sound asleep on his chest beneath the blanket he had pulled over her during the night. That’s exactly where he wanted her to be.
“Angelica, I have to get up,” he said in her ear.
She made a purring sound that brought a smile to his face. “Honey, you need to wake up. I have to go to work.”
Not going anywhere, she burrowed closer to him. “Garrett?” she mumbled.
With the love of his life peacefully nestled in his arms, Garrett didn’t want to play the role of a cop chasing a killer today.
This was an enjoyable habit he didn’t want to give up.
On a worldly level, life was calling—or was it the dead bodies in the morgue?
Given the choice, he wouldn’t budge. But duty and a paycheck demanded he comply.
Short of combing his fingers through her hair, Garrett gently tucked a few stray strands behind Angelica’s ear. Disobedient ones jumped ship and wandered back to her cheek. He brushed them aside.
“It’s time for me to head to work.”
“Is it morning?” Angelica whimpered, her squinty eyes similar to slits.
His lips brushed the top of her head. Garrett might need to leave, but that didn’t keep him from pulling her closer.
“Yep, it’s morning. I’m sorry for waking you, but I must go.”
Between the present and dreamland, she muttered, “Were we here all night?”
“Well, we weren’t in your bedroom.”
Garrett wouldn’t have minded that room, the one with the comfy, spacious multipurpose bed—a bed he’d gladly share if Angelica wanted a change of scenery.
“We would have been more comfortable there,” slurred off her tongue.
He’d second that idea. She must have ESP. His smile was as big as his hug. The things that came out of her mouth—was longing hidden in her subconscious? He wanted to possess hope—or was it just lust?
“I don’t think you’re awake, Angelica.”
“Hmm?”
Angelica was making this so difficult. Releasing her felt daunting. This was the closest he’d come to showing love.
Overruling his senses, he shifted her weight. “Come on, Baby Girl, let me take you back to bed,” he said.
Garrett lifted her into his arms. Two things were certain.
She was the lightest woman in the state, and like a child, Angelica was unaware of her surroundings when she slept.
As he carried her down the hallway, blanket and all, her arm instinctively wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t help but grin.
He laid her down on the comforter and tucked the blanket around her. “I’ll take the key to the kitchen door and let myself out.”
“What?”
He dropped a whisper-soft kiss on her forehead and murmured in her ear, “I’ll call you later, Angelica. Go back to sleep.”
Garrett grabbed a quick shower. Dressed better than yesterday, he gathered his scattered belongings. He shoved loose coins, his wallet, and his phone into his pockets. He returned the service revolver to its holster. He slipped on his shoes, then dropped his sneakers and charger into the gym bag.
What would it be like to live here with Angelica? He wouldn’t be stuffing his net worth into the “just-for-the-night” bag. All speculation, all daydreams.
Lost in his fantasies, he passed her desk and put her landline back on the base, the message light blinking. He wondered why Angelica had taken it off, but the thought faded.
Walking into the kitchen, he snatched the key from the counter—the very key he had hoped to possess—and exited the house through the door no one had ever used before. Whoopee!
* * *
Angelica was disoriented as she opened her eyes. Other than being in the right room, nothing else made sense—the comforter was beneath her, and the spare blanket was on top. She threw the covers aside, sat up, and examined her clothes. They were intact, a good sign.
Did she drink too much again? Her head ached enough to prove it. What’s going on with her? She must stay away from wine and men—at the same time. No, perhaps entirely.
While she was analyzing and dissecting what had occurred last night, especially any sexual activity, she heard loud banging on her front door.
She headed inside hesitantly, expecting to see Garrett, the last person she had seen, and who knew what else …
He wasn’t there, nor was his paraphernalia on the coffee table.
The banging intensified to pounding. All right, already! Angelica peeked through the front blinds. A panel van with a business name mounted on the roof was parked next to her SUV. She opened the door, and a blast of chilled air rushed in, along with a vase of red roses shoved into her hand.
Dressed in a T-shirt, ripped jeans, and dirty sneakers, the youthful-looking driver cheered, “Delivery for Angelica Whitely.”
“That’s me.” She wrapped both hands around the large vase. “Thanks. Have a good day.”
Angelica hugged the vase to her chest as she locked the door.
She placed the flowers on her desk and did a quick count.
Two dozen. Why send just one dozen when you can send two?
She wasn’t curious about the sender, only about the sentiments of her Saturday night lover.
She plucked the greeting card from the plastic holder.
“Happy Birthday to the woman of my dreams, my destiny, and future wife. Love always, Nicholas.”
She blinked. Was this a marriage proposal?
Suddenly, Nicky’s feelings of devotion seemed more appealing.
Who proposes by way of 1-800-4UROSES? No, his words couldn’t mean that; this was just his assumption.
This was her fault. Angelica sank into the chair as the desk phone rang.
Did Nicky time his call with the delivery, or was he a mind reader again?
She clutched her temple, peeked at the caller ID, and let out a relieved sigh.
The fact that the call wasn’t from her “lover” lifted her spirits. Perhaps not. Something happened last night.
“Hello, Garrett.”
“Good morning, Angelica. How are you feeling?”
Was it still morning? She turned toward the antique clock on the mantel. The two hands ticked within two inches of high noon.
“As good as I can be with a headache.”
“Do you want me to pick up something for you, honey? I’ll bring it right over.”
“No, but thank you. That’s thoughtful of you. I have something here. I’ll grab it once I get off the phone.” She squeezed her eyes shut and winced. “What happened last night, Garrett? I woke up in my bedroom. I don’t remember going there.”
“What happened? Nothing happened! I just put you on the bed while you were asleep.”
How did he manage to do that? More importantly, did they do anything afterward? Anything at all? Every second, it grew worse.
Bewildered in many ways and exhausted, she asked, “You didn’t stay with me, did you?”
“Of course not!” he protested. “I slept on the couch all night, as usual. I was a perfect gentleman.”
Angelica sighed again, reassured by his response yet feeling like a fool.
How could she do this to the detective after he’d gone above and beyond for her?
He’d been there for her every night since the robbery.
Even installed a new door on his day off and refused to accept any money from her.
He said it was a small price to pay to keep her safe.
“That you are, and I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“Aren’t I lucky!”
That was sharp. Was he being sarcastic? Garrett didn’t sound happy, and neither did she. What a pair. But they weren’t a pair—more like two ships passing in the night. Still, she appeared to be traveling through thick fog without lights, a sure path to a collision.
Not thinking clearly in many areas, she muttered, “Are you staying at my house tonight?”
“Why not?! I’m your best customer, aren’t I?” he said, clipping his words.
Yes, he’s being curt. Bunking out in her living room has grown old and tiring. One more night, and this assignment will be over. Grateful to be finished with her, Garrett can take his toothbrush home and return to his own bed. Better yet, he could make the other woman more than just a friend.
Angelica regarded the flowers, overcome by a wave of negative emotions. Nicky is suffocating her. She might be four hours away from him, but can she go any farther? Northern Canada? Homer, Alaska? She needs to clear her mind, even for an hour or two.
“Garrett, do you want to go out for dinner tonight? My treat for all you’ve done for me. You could come over earlier if you’re interested, that is,” she rambled.
“It would be my pleasure to dine with you. And the gentleman always pays. I have a question, though. Do I need to tip you later, Ms. Whitely?”
Angelica laughed. She misread him. “Tip me? You already owe me two, Sir. I’m charging double because you’re my only customer.”
Angelica heard him chuckle for the first time during their somewhat awkward, distant conversation.
“You drive a hard bargain. See you at seven, Miss.”
“Don’t forget the gold!”
She ended the call, sniffed the roses, and scowled at the smiling bouquet. Thank goodness, ten days stood between her and Nicky.
What can or should she say to him after receiving his card with marriage expectations? Or is it unofficial, or maybe an official pre-proposal sent in a tiny envelope without a stamp? Who would send a card like this? Nicky, of course.
Angelica carried the vase into the guest bedroom and set it on the dresser. Happy thirtieth birthday to me! Here, she thought she’d never receive a proposal by her birthday. Oh, heck, the day’s still young; maybe she’ll get two. Right! The possibility of getting one didn’t make her happy.
Heading to the shower, she stopped abruptly. Nicky! Drats—she needed to call Nicky to thank him. She’d do it later. No, do it now. Get it over with!
Angelica sank onto her bed and speed-dialed his office. A few tense seconds passed. She prayed he’d be away from his desk. Her prayers never reached the clouds—he answered.
“Hi, Nicky, it’s me.”
“Happy Birthday, darling. I wish I could spend the day with you rather than be hours apart.”