If We Never Met by Barbara Freethy
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dante wokeup Tuesday morning to an unsettling quiet and a very cool other side of the bed. He abruptly sat up. There was no sign of Keira in the adjoining bathroom, and her clothes were gone. He fell back against the pillows with a frustrated groan. He knew he shouldn't have closed his eyes last night. He'd stayed up longer than Keira, but the long day had eventually caught up to him, and he'd drifted off, hoping that they could talk more in the morning, because the second time they'd made love had felt like goodbye, and that had bothered him more than he could put into words.
But there was no conversation to have now. Keira had left, and he didn't know when he would see her again. He hoped she hadn't decided to call it quits because he was leaving earlier than expected, because they still had five days to be together—to talk, to laugh, to have incredible, mind-blowing sex. Who would want to give up five days of that kind of pleasure?
He knew the answer. Keira probably thought it would be easier if it were just over now. He'd seen that thought float through her eyes last night, right after he'd told her his news. He'd managed to persuade her to stay, to keep enjoying the moment they were in, but he had a feeling that moment was over.
He blew out a breath as he stared up at the ceiling. It wasn't going to be easy to leave her. That was a new feeling for him. He'd never had a problem leaving a woman, a relationship, a city, his family... He'd always looked ahead instead of back. That probably wasn't a trait to brag about, but it was the truth. He'd always put his dream ahead of everything else, and it had paid off. Every move he'd made had been a good one, a step closer to ultimate success. But this time felt different.
The past two months had come with a lot of self-analysis and fear for the future. He'd had to face the possibility his career might be over, and even though the injury was now just going to be a blip on his record, a short time away from the big stage of his life, he had changed because of it.
He had been forced to think about a life without the game he loved, and it had been terrifying. He loved being a pitcher. He loved baseball. He loved the guys on his team and the fans who came out to cheer them on. He'd been forced to imagine a life where he didn't get to go out and pitch, where he didn't hear the roar of a crowd or feel the pressure of a game on the line, and his future had seemed bleak until he met Keira. She had wrapped him up in her smiles and her arms and her body. She'd brought him back to life, made him realize that what he did for a living wasn't all that he was.
He could talk to Keira in a way he'd never talked to anyone else. They'd gotten deep so fast and so easily. He knew her, and she knew him. It hadn't all been serious. They'd laughed a lot. In fact, being with Keira had brought simple joys back into his life. She'd opened up a new world to him, one where he was just one of a gang of fun, friendly people, who lived and loved without being on a stage, without running from the tabloids, without needing to be better all the time. It had been an incredible break.
But that's all it had been—a break. His life was in Miami, and Keira's life was here. They couldn't be together. Unless…
Could he find a way?But what way?Could they do long distance? Could he come back to Whisper Lake in the off-season? Would that be enough?
The baseball season was March to the end of October. That didn't leave many months for any other kind of life. And he wasn't close to retirement, not if his arm was truly back to normal. He could play another six to eight years.
And what about Keira's dreams?
Even if she were willing to follow him to Miami, how could he let her do that?She needed to think about putting herself first. If she was going to move anywhere, she should go to New York. She was too good not to do what she was meant to do. But she put other people before herself.
They really were opposites. He'd always put himself first, and she never had. Maybe they needed to rub off on each other. He needed to think more about other people, and she needed to think less.
He sighed once more as his brain grappled with unsolvable problems. Finally, he got out of bed and hit the shower. He needed to get to rehab and keep working on his recovery. At least it looked like his arm could be fixed. He didn't know about anything else. But he did know that he wasn't ready to end it with Keira; he just needed to convince her that five more happy days were worth whatever else might be coming.
Keira started getting texts from Dante shortly after lunchtime, but she didn't reply. She didn't know what she wanted to say. He wanted to get together for dinner. He wanted to take her out. And yesterday she would have said yes in a heartbeat, but now…she was torn. She liked him way too much, and she sensed a world of hurt coming her way. Why make everything worse by drawing out their goodbye? And it would be worse, because every day she fell a little more in love with him.
It was crazy. They hadn't known each other very long, but she couldn't deny her feelings. She'd dated enough men in her life to know what she wanted, and Dante checked off a lot of boxes, except the big one. He didn't live in Whisper Lake. He didn't have a life in this town. He'd asked her before if that was a deal breaker. She hadn't said it was, but maybe she hadn't been honest with herself.
She looked up as the door opened and two teenagers walked in. She gave them a smile as they asked where the sale rack was. She waved them toward the back corner of the store.
A woman came in next, wearing a very stylish dress with stiletto heels and dark sunglasses. The jewelry around her neck was stunning and eye-catching. She was definitely not a local.
She came up to the counter and removed her glasses. "Keira Blake?"
"Yes. Can I help you?"
"I'm Margot Devane. I've emailed you several times. My client, Jessica Stillman, is very interested in your work."
"Of course. I'm sorry. It's been a busy week. Ms. Stillman wants a dress for an awards show in October. Is that right?"
"She does. But now she's doing a movie festival in Rome in September where she'll have several events that need very special outfits. She'd like to discuss everything with you as soon as possible. She loved Chelsea Cole's dress. She feels that you're someone who will give her something original."
"I'm so happy to hear that."
"Good. Because this is an incredible opportunity. I'll be honest with you. I've tried to have her work with designers in LA where I'm located, and she has turned everyone down. She wants you, and she sent me here to tell you that she won't take no for an answer. She'd like you to come to LA as soon as possible for a meeting."
"Uh." She was a little overwhelmed by Margot's words. "I have a lot going on this week. I have a wedding on Saturday, and I have my businesses to run."
"Are you saying you don't want to meet her?"
She licked her lips. What the hell was she thinking? "No, I'm not saying that. I would love to meet her, but it would have to be next week at the earliest. If she wants to talk before then, we could do a video chat."
"No, she wants to get to know you in person. Why don't we try for next Monday?"
"Next Monday?" she echoed. "That might be a little soon."
"Working with Jessica will be incredibly lucrative for you. I really don't understand your hesitation. She's one of the hottest actresses in Hollywood right now."
"I know, and I am very honored—really. I just have some family issues."
"All right, but I'll need an answer by Friday." Margot handed her a card. "I look forward to setting up your trip. It's my job to get Jessica what she wants, and she wants you. Let's make this work for both of us."
She picked up the card. "I'll let you know by Friday. Thanks for the offer."
"You can thank me when you get to LA."
She let out a breath as Margot left and stared at the card in her hand. She felt like she'd just been handed a ticket to something amazing. The other people who had emailed her after the awards show had either not responded back to her email or had dropped out after all the bad press she'd received, but Jessica either hadn't seen that press or didn't care. Dressing her for several events could be huge. But this ticket to something amazing would require her to make some tough decisions about her future.
She'd been feeling overwhelmed for the past year. She couldn't add one more thing to her plate without getting rid of something. But what?
A wave of panic ran through her. Her gut was churning. It was just too much. She was already feeling emotional about losing Dante. Now, she had to make a life-changing decision about her career. She didn't want to do that. She wanted to dive into bed and pull the covers over her head.
There was also no guarantee Jessica would hire her even if she did fly to Los Angeles and talk to her. She could be put through a series of test designs and in the end, Jessica might decide not to use her and then all that time would be wasted. It was a risk. But wasn't it just the risk she wanted? This could be the beginning of her own design business, one that went beyond her friends.
As the teenage girls brought clothes up to the counter, she put down the card and focused on what she had to do right now. It was actually a relief. She knew how to sell clothes in her boutique and make customers happy. The rest she still had to figure out.
Dante was annoyed that Keira hadn't texted him back by the end of the day. She was clearly avoiding him, and he didn't know what to do about it. Should he give her space? Or should he try to force her into talking to him? If he gave her space, he might never see her again. On the other hand, if he pushed too hard, he might reach the same result. She might just tell him to his face that she was done.
He paced in front of the window as the clock struck five. He definitely needed to get out of his room at the inn, because the bed just reminded him of Keira and the night they'd spent together.
Restless, he decided to go downstairs and check out Lizzie's daily happy hour.
As he stepped into the hall, he saw someone coming out of Mark Langley's room. To his shock, it was the red-haired woman. She froze when she saw him, a guilty look flashing across her face.
"Hello," he said.
She gave him a nod and then hurried toward the stairs. He realized as she disappeared that she hadn't shut Mark's door. He moved down the hall and knocked on the door. With no answer, he pushed it open, about to say hello when he realized that Mark wasn't there, and the room looked like it had been ransacked.
There was writing on the wall—three words: YOU WILL PAY.
Damn!He backed out of the room, careful not to touch anything, and jogged down the stairs to the lobby. He saw Lizzie in the dining room, talking to one of the other guests. He walked in and hovered nearby until she gave him a questioning look.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "I need to speak to you right away."
"Okay. Is something wrong?"
"Yes." He motioned for her to follow him.
"I'll talk to you later, Susan," Lizzie said to the woman, then followed him back to the lobby. "What's going on, Dante?"
"You need to see this." He headed up the stairs with her right on his heels.
"Is there something wrong with your room?" she asked.
"Not my room. Mark Langley's room." When they got to the third floor, he led her to the open door. "I saw a woman come out of this room a few minutes ago. She left the door ajar. I was going to shut it or let Mark know it was open, and then I saw this."
Lizzie stepped into the room and gasped, her gaze darting from the upturned drawers to the ripped pillows on the bed, the slashed fabric on the recliner, and the threatening words on the wall. "Oh, my God," she murmured, putting a hand to her mouth in shock. "Who did this?"
"A woman with red hair. I saw her come out of the room. She gave me an odd look and then rushed down the stairs."
Lizzie met his gaze. "There was a woman matching that description who came by last week. She was looking for Mark. I told him she'd left him a message. I put it under his door.”
He walked over to the desk and saw a piece of paper with a few handwritten scrawled lines: You should have protected my sister and not your wife. You're going to keep paying until I tell you it's time to stop.
"Sounds like blackmail," he muttered.
Lizzie read the note over his shoulder. "It does sound like that."
"Mark must have decided to stop paying." His gaze swept the room. "She left him a bigger message."
"I have to call Adam." Lizzie pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Can you wait here while I do that? He might want to ask you what you saw."
"Of course."
She got in touch with Adam fairly quickly and after a brief conversation, she ended the call, saying, "He's five minutes away. He said not to touch anything." Lizzie looked around the scene with pain in her eyes. "She really destroyed this room. She must have taken a knife or scissors to that recliner. It was donated to me by my dad. My mom said he should give it up because he was spending too much time in it. So, he drove it up here, thinking one of my guests would like it. Everything in this room was chosen with love." She wiped her eyes. "It's silly to be so personally attached."
"It's not silly, and I'm sorry." For Lizzie, this wasn't just an inn. It was truly her home, a home that had just been ripped apart.
"I wonder how she got in. It's easy enough to get into the building but not the rooms. They're all coded to the keycard."
"Maybe you should call Mark Langley."
"Good idea." She looked through her phone, then punched in a number. "It's going to voicemail," she said a moment later. "Mr. Langley, this is Lizzie Cole. There's been an incident at the inn with your room. Please call me as soon as you can. It's urgent."
As she finished her message, he walked around, careful not to disturb anything. The woman hadn't just used a knife or scissors on the recliner; she'd cut up Mark's clothes and slashed the sheets and pillows. There was a personal vindictiveness to everything he saw, a burning hatred, and it was very unsettling.
"I should have stopped her," he muttered. "I didn't know what she'd done."
"How could you know? And why would you stop her? She could have just been visiting Mark."
"Mark's car was scratched yesterday. He said it was probably kids, but I think it was her. I know they had an argument several days ago."
"What about?"
"No idea."
"Keira has been suspicious about him from the beginning. I thought she was being overprotective of her mom. She's been taking care of her for so long, she worries about everything, but her instinct might have been right."
"I think it was." He needed to give Keira a heads-up about what had happened here. But before he could pull out his phone, Adam arrived.
Since both he and Lizzie had seen the red-haired woman, they came up with a good description between them. When he was done answering Adam's questions, he headed downstairs, jumped into his car, and went looking for Keira. He wasn't going to leave yet another text message or voicemail. He was going to find her and talk to her.
Her car wasn't at her shop, and there were no lights on in the building, so he went to her house. Adam would probably be close behind him, just in case Langley was with Ruth Blake, but he didn't want to waste another minute before he filled Keira in. He couldn't help thinking that he now had a very good reason for getting in touch with her. Unfortunately, he was bringing nothing but more bad news.