Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(86)
“Was it good for you, Love?” he asked, his eyes tender in spite of that smile.
I wanted to cry for some strange reason. I didn’t want to analyze the urge at all, but I couldn’t help but worry about how much I was coming to depend on James. I felt an addictive need to be near him. “It was good. I loved watching you touch yourself, but it all just made me want you with me even more.”
His face changed so drastically that I blinked. There was a calculation there now, and a resolve that made me tense. “We don’t ever have to be apart. You could work from home, and have a career with your paintings. I won’t rush you, but it’s something I’d like you to start thinking about.”
I tensed up even more, and he held up a conciliatory hand. “I’ll drop it, love. Paterson tells me that you offered to let Blake sleep in your spare room. Are you really okay with that? For security purposes it would be ideal, but I want you to be comfortable in your own home.”
I shrugged, and his eyes moved down to my br**sts. He began to tuck himself back into his slacks, making a visible effort to tear his eyes back up to my face. I wasn’t totally comfortable with it, but I thought that with all of the other bizarre things I would need to grow accustomed to, it was a very little thing in the scheme of it all.
He gave me an almost grateful smile. It looked a little off on his too perfect face. “Thank you. That will help me to sleep better when you have to be away from me.” I shifted as he spoke, sitting cross-legged and pulling a corner of my bedspread over my lap. His smile changed to a smirk. “Take the blanket off your lap. I love the one stocking, by the way. You really passed out, huh?”
We chatted for a long time, both of us in a lighter mood by the time he finally had to get back to work. I wondered how my heart could be both light with happiness and heavy with love at the same time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I was heading from my bedroom to the kitchen, clad only in a robe, when I heard a commotion at my front door. I moved to see what it was before I could think better of it. I blinked at the unexpected sight that greeted me.
A strange, middle-aged woman stood just in the front doorway, Paterson behind her, Blake in front. She had hair dyed a garish red, with overdone makeup that couldn’t disguise the drawn look of her too thin face. She looked how I thought a retired showgirl might look, with a thin body and too large br**sts that seemed to hurt her posture.
Her spine stiffened when she caught sight of me. Her eyes were neither friendly nor hostile, but held a desperate sort of appeal that I couldn’t understand showing to a complete stranger.
She addressed me right away. “I’m not here to hurt you, as these people seem to think.” She held up a plain white envelope. “I just wanted to give you this. There are some things you need to know. I would have told you before, but your father wouldn’t let me contact you. Now that he’s disappeared, I saw no reason to delay. Please, just read this. I can see why you wouldn’t want to talk to me, but this isn’t about me.” Her speech was a little desperate, and I recognized the nervous fear that seemed to sit on her shoulders, a fear that she had to live with every second of her life, living with my father. I remembered it well.
“Sharon Karlsson,” I said, my mouth stiff around the words. The name felt so wrong to me.
She nodded, her arm shaking badly as she held the envelope towards me. I moved forward to take it.
Blake moved to block me. “She hasn’t let us search her, Ms. Karlsson.”
I studied Sharon. She wore a thin shift of a dress, flowers faded from many washes. I didn’t see how she could hide anything in the dress, but I wasn’t the expert. “Will you hand me the envelope then?” I asked Blake, trying to be practical.
Blake took the envelope from Sharon, and the red-headed woman began backing immediately out the door. I remembered that I had something to tell her but she was retreating swiftly. I had to shoulder past my bodyguards to catch a last view of her getting into an old clunker of a sedan that was parked on the curb.
“Wait, Sharon,” I called out. She cast me a panicky look, but didn’t pause. I moved closer. “I need to tell you something important,” I shouted, but she was already peeling away from my house like a madwoman.
“Please, Ms. Karlsson. Step back inside. It could be some kind of a trap,” Paterson said, scanning the street with focused thoroughness.
I cooperated, walking back inside with a sigh. Now I would have to call her. I had so just wanted to get it over with. I had an almost overpoweringly strong aversion to speaking to that woman. I held my hand out to Blake as I passed her. “May I have that letter?”
She looked hesitant but handed it to me.
Paterson cleared his throat. “May I inspect it first, Ms. Karlsson?”
I already had the thing open, and I could see that it contained nothing more than a thin scrap of paper. I showed him.
He grimaced, holding out his hand. “I’m asking to read it first.”
I shook my head. I would cooperate with them for the sake of my safety, but I had no intention of sharing my personal business with them. “No. I’m sorry, but this is private.” I went into my bedroom without another word.
I could hear Paterson’s voice through the door. “I’m going to have to tell Mr. Cavendish about this, Ms. Karlsson.”
“You do that,” I said, opening the letter. It was short and to the point.