Authors: Yvonne Harriott
Three minutes and ten seconds.
Her heart raced in her chest. She loved the thrill.
One minute and three seconds.
Her heart pounded with the excitement of the chase as she watched the screen biting her bottom lip. Her eyes narrowed on the screen.
Jamie was getting closer. He can’t be that good. Can he? Sweat broke out on her forehead.
One minute ten second.
One minute.
Then the smile slid from her face. He was right on her heels and then…
“Oh no!”
“I
still have to make you dinner.”
Markie smiled when she answered the phone and heard Beck’s cheerful voice.
“Hang on.”
She pressed the hold button and got up to close the sliding door of her office. There hadn’t been much to smile about. Day six and still no word from Sydney.
Jamie had managed to locate the computer
Shadoe
used to break into Beck Security Systems. As it turned out, the computer belonged to a sweet little old lady in New Jersey, who had received the computer from her son.
Shadoe
hacked into Beck Security Systems via her computer.
Then the superintendent at Sydney’s building had called after
Shadoe
have had broken in to Beck’s computer. A tenant had turned in Sydney’s wallet to the management office. It had led to a second canvassing of Sydney’s neighborhood that had turned up nothing.
The man found the wallet behind the dumpster when he had tossed his trash and it landed behind the bin instead of in it. He said he’d tried to return the wallet but was unsuccessful.
As much as she’d pushed Beck to the back of her mind, he was never more than a phone call away. He had called to ensure she was okay before and after the search. Nothing more. No pressure. All she had to do was go to him but she didn’t.
“I thought you’d forgotten about dinner,” she said knowing very well he hadn’t.
She’d woken up this morning thinking about him after a restless night. As the morning went on she’d buried herself in work trying to identify the mystery woman in the photo but came up empty. Sydney consumed her thoughts pushing Beck out, but not for long.
“You know me better than that. Shall we try again for tonight? Hold on for a moment.”
She heard him talking in the background and he returned a few minutes later. “That was Jamie at the door. He’s monitoring the network and ordered Malcolm and I to take the night off.”
“You always follow orders?” She felt like flirting.
“Only when it’s in my best interest…and I’m rewarded for my efforts,” he replied, jumping right along on the flirting train.
“What sort of reward are you looking for?” She held her breath waiting for his response. Her heart was beating so loud she thought for sure he could hear it.
“What are you offering?”
Time stood still. Seconds ticked by. Then she said, “We can start with dinner.” She checked her watch. “It’s almost six. I should be home in an hour pending traffic.”
“See you soon,” Beck said and hung up.
Chicken. He’d called her bluff and she choked. She knew what he wanted to hear and she clammed up.
Marklynn looked at the phone in her hand for a long while before a loud beeping noise jarred her out of her trance and back to reality. She hung up.
Beck had kept his promise. He’d called and offered words of comfort when the search of Sydney’s neighborhood turned up empty. When he asked if she wanted to be alone after the search she had said yes and he respected her wishes.
No pressure.
With all that was going on at his company, he’d taken the time to ensure that she was okay. He was kind and giving and…when she thought about the last time they were together her heart did a little summersault. Something was happening between them and she was afraid to name it. Didn’t want to name it.
Why? She wasn’t looking for love, but it may have found her. With all the craziness that had crashed into her life in the last few days, she’d found stability in Beck. Not only in his arms but also in his strength.
For all her talk about not going down that road again, she was already half way down and scared to death.
What if he walked away like Jared?
• • •
At 7:00 p.m., Beck arrived in Quincy, the “City of Presidents.” Markie lived in the neighborhood of Wallaston a dense grid of residential streets and apartments.
This was his second trip to the city that had an amazing history and miles of shoreline that took your breath away. He never thought that he could give up his
Trump Tower,
as Marklynn has called his place, but found he liked the “Birthplace of the American Dream.”
Beck pulled into Marklynn’s driveway and grabbed the three paper bags of groceries from the back seat of his SUV. He balanced them in his arms as he made his way up the steps to Marklynn’s front door.
He had gone a little overboard with the grocery shopping. It couldn’t be helped. The woman had no food in her fridge just stacks of plastic containers in her freezer.
When they had made plans to have dinner together yesterday an invitation had followed for breakfast in the morning. She hadn’t mentioned it when they had spoken earlier and once again he would step back and let her lead.
It tore at his heart every time he heard the disappointment in her voice over Sydney and even more so that Monika might have something to do with it. He’d wanted to be with Marklynn when Jamie had mentioned about someone finding Sydney’s wallet, but she’d kept him at arms length lost in her grief.
She’d dropped her guard, if only for a moment. She wanted to see him and he was as happy as a kid in a candy store.
Beck juggled the bags in his arms freeing a finger to ring the doorbell.
“Oh my gosh!” Marklynn said when she opened the door and stood staring at him. “Did you buy out the grocery store?”
“A little assistance please or at least let me in.”
“Sorry.” Markie took one of the bags from him and stepped back from the door. “Come in.”
He followed her to the kitchen and dropped the bags on the counter. She stood holding the bag as if not sure what to do with it. He took it from her, dropped it on the counter as well, pulled her into his arms and held her.
“I’m sorry you didn’t find Sydney.” He released her with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll get started on the food, and you unpack the groceries.”
One of the bags contained all the ingredients for the stir fry which he laid out on the counter. She started emptying the other two bags staring at the groceries as if she wasn’t sure where to put them and he couldn’t resist.
“The can goods you put in there,” he pointed to the cupboards along the wall, “and the dairy products in the refrigerator,” he pointed towards the fridge.
She laughed and said, “I was wondering what I was going to do with all this food. I have to tell you…I don’t really cook. You see, Nan, my grandmother makes dinner every Sunday. I usually get a care package to take home and it lasts for the entire week. I still have containers of food in the freezer.”
“Ahhh a Nana’s girl.”
“This coming from a mama’s boy or should I say a step mama’s boy.”
“Either way I’m proud of it,” he added with a teasing grin. “Now, finish putting away the rest of the groceries and I’ll start the prep work for the stir fry.”
He watched as she put away tins of soup, crackers and all the other items he guessed at hoping she would like. Some of the foods he liked so he had an ulterior motive as well, to be invited back.
When she came to the box of chocolate almonds she looked over at him and her lips curved in a slow sexy smile. The chocolate was left out on the counter.
• • •
Marklynn was beautiful and she smelled pretty too, a floral scent. Beck didn’t know what it was, but he liked it.
He watched as she moved around the kitchen. Her hair was in a ponytail tied back with a pink ribbon showing off her face. Only a faint dark shadow was left of the black eye. Her lips covered in a light pink gloss.
The black summer dress hugged her hips stopping just above her knees. Her feet were bare with her toenails painted pink. It was the sexiest thing he’d seen all day.
“Where do you want me?”
That question sent his eyebrows rising right along with his body heat.
How about naked and horizontal on the counter
he thought and she saw right through him.
“I meant—what do you want me to do.” She blushed when she met his bold gaze and further clarified. “To help you prep, wash or chop? What?”
At least he wasn’t the only one in over-drive. The moment he’d stepped through the door and laid eyes on her, instant replay. The last time they were together was the only thought that filled his mind. Every thing about her…the way she felt in his arms, the way she moved against him, and, oh yeah, she was a screamer.
“Alright if we must have food,” he said with a lazy smile. “Start chopping the green onions.”
The L-shaped kitchen was too small for two people to work comfortably without bumping into each other, but he didn’t mind. A yellow stove was in the corner, a small table next to it, counter space then the sink, another tiny counter space, then a yellow fridge.
• • •
The cutting board was leaning against the wall by the sink and there were several knives in a chopping block on the counter. He retrieved a knife and the cutting board then placed them in front of her with the green onions.
“I don’t have a wok,” she said and turned on the tap to wash the green onions.
“A large skillet is fine.”
“Here. Under the sink.”
Marklynn stepped aside so he could retrieve the skillet. His hand brushed against her leg and he felt her shiver. The air was suddenly charged with sexual tension. She didn’t look at him, but he knew she felt it too. He also knew she wasn’t ready for what he had in mind at that moment. There was something shy and reserved about her tonight as if she was testing the waters between them and that was just fine by him. He would let her come to him.
Beck placed the skillet on the large burner and turned on the stove. The secret to great stir-fried rice is to use Basmati Rice, his father’s recipe. By the time he had scrambled the eggs needed, peeled the cooked shrimp the rice was just about ready to come off the stove.
She finished chopping the green onion and stood quietly watching him. He found he liked having her to himself, standing there watching him. He wanted to know what she was thinking but didn’t want to intrude. Recalling their last conversation to take it slow, he focused on preparing the meal.
“It smells wonderful,” she said, looking hungrily at the plate of shrimp he added to the rice in the large skillet watching the steam rise up into the air.
“You wanted fried rice; your wish is my command.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the pan.
“Don’t tell me, your stepmother moonlighted as a chef before she made it big in interior design.”
Using a fork he speared a shrimp from the pan. “Have a taste.” He brought the fork to her lips and she reached to take it. He shook his head. “Open your mouth.”
Her mouth opened and closed around the shrimp. Then her tongue slipped out licking her lips. He had to summon every ounce of will power not to push the food aside, lay her on the counter and have his way with her.
“Mmmm. That’s good.”
“My father is the chef,” he said bringing his mind back to the conversation. “It was a second career he found after my mother died from bone cancer. Somewhere in the midst of his grieving, he lost his passion as an architect and turned to cooking. Some of it rubbed off on me.”
“I’d say. When did he marry your stepmother, Anika?”
“About eight years ago. Funny thing is she wouldn’t know what a stove is if she bumped into it in a kitchen and dad wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“She sounds interesting.”
“She is. I would love for you to meet her and my father.”
That was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop and he wanted to take it back. Marklynn wasn’t ready for a relationship with him let alone meeting his parents. She turned towards the sink and started washing the knife. It wasn’t his intention to make her feel uncomfortable, but that was the result of his comment. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He used the flat edge of the knife to gather up the chopped green onions from the chopping board she’d placed beside the stove and added it to the skillet.
“What else do you want me to do?”
“You can sit and talk to me if you like. Tell me about your meeting in Jamaica Plains.”
• • •
Markie watched Beck as he added the green onions mixing it together with the other ingredients in the skillet. He had the dishtowel thrown over his right shoulder watching her. She focused on the spot on his jean shirt just above the breast pocket where he’d spilled the soya sauce when he opened the bottle. Of course, if she owned an apron his shirt wouldn’t be soiled.
She didn’t see his scars when she looked at him and she did, while he whisked around her kitchen like the Galloping Gourmet. He looked so comfortable like he belonged in her kitchen, in her bed and in her life.
“If you don’t want to tell me about Jamaica Plains, that’s fine.”
It was her way out and she decided to take it. However, her brain hadn’t discussed it with her mouth and she opened up to him like it was perfectly natural as if they had known each other for years.
“It’s difficult for me to talk about it. I found out my sister had a life I knew nothing about.” She told Beck what Macy had said about Sydney and Derrick. “Sydney is a photographer. She had a boyfriend, Derrick. He wanted to marry her, but he died.”
“Are you hurt because Sydney didn’t tell you about him?”
“She told Nan.” She was hurt but she couldn’t explain why. “I don’t even know why that bothers me. It’s not like I confided in Sydney. We argued all the time. If I said white she said black. When I left the police force, I didn’t even tell…”