One More Taste (33 page)

“My God, I can't wait to hear where you've been and what you've been up to.”

Not so fast, buddy.
If he wanted to catch up for old time's sake, then he was going to be sorely disappointed because Emily had too much on her mind to make small talk, not that she was any good at it anyway. “Could we talk in your office?”

If he was startled by her abruptness, he showed no sign of it. “Of course. After you. Sheri, hold my calls, please.”

Welk's office afforded the same stunning view of the lake, but Emily forced herself to sit in one of the chairs facing his ornate French Provincial desk rather than distract herself with the view.

“I was told by Louis, the doorman at my parents' apartment, that they'd passed away. He gave me your card.”

“Louis always did have your family's best interests at heart. He's a fine man.”

Oh, the urge to take Charles Welk by the lapels, give him a good shake, and command him to stop dancing around with small talk and spit it out about why he'd wanted to talk to her. “He said you wanted to speak to me, that you had something for me.”

Welk took a long, studying look at her, clearly deliberating whether to keep pursuing a chatty conversation or indulge her by getting straight to the matter at hand. “You father died shortly after you left home,” he said. “I'm not saying that so you'll blame yourself. He and I were friends and colleagues, but he was a hard man and he never did right by you or your mother. Everything that happened to him, he brought on himself.”

Truer words had never been spoken, though the news left her surprisingly angry all over again. Not at her father, but at herself, for expending so much energy and thought evading her parents only to find out it was an imagined threat. Nothing but a ghost. “And my mother?”

For the first time, Welk's expression shifted away from cheery professionalism. “Breast cancer took her from the world, from me, too soon. Two years ago.” He fiddled with a wedding band on his left ring finger.

Had her mother remarried her father's best friend? Charles Welk had always seemed like a decent guy. It felt nice, imagining her mother finding companionship and enjoying a few happy years after her father died. “You two were … close?”

“In the years after Bernard died, we took solace in each other. We were a good match. Married for four years.”

“Then I'm sorry for your loss.” What an ironic world she lived in, to comfort a virtual stranger about the loss of her own mother.

Welk nodded. “Thank you. And to you. I like to think I made her happy. I did my best to help her achieve that goal every day, even after the diagnosis. Life really is so short. Happiness is the only thing that makes the brevity bearable. But she never got over losing you. She'd want me to tell you that we never stopped looking for you.”

“That's … I don't know what to say.” Emily dropped her chin, not sure how to feel about that. The safest thing seemed to be to put that kernel of truth in a locked box in her mind to deal with later.

“You don't have to say anything. I'm sure this is all quite overwhelming. We finally concluded that you'd changed your identity because there were no Rebeccas in the country, living or deceased, who matched your age or description.”

“I did change it, yes,” Emily said.

“Then may I congratulate you for a job well done because we searched long and hard for you, using the best experts in the country, for any possible aliases. And always came up completely empty.” He punctuated the words with a genuine smile of respect.

“Thank you.” She'd always known that the pricey forger she'd hired had been well worth his fee. She'd poured the vast majority of the money she'd stolen from her parents and withdrawn from her savings account into that forged identity. She hadn't merely wanted to hide, but to recast herself as someone entirely new and sustainable. Emily Ford was a tax-paying, social security contributing, upstanding member of society.

“Is there anything you want to know before we get down to business?”

“No, thank you.”

“Fair enough.” He perched a pair of reading glasses on his nose. “Your mother left a substantial sum of money for you. From the sale of properties, both your parents' retirement funds, and their investments. She trusted me to hold on to it for you and to issue payment if you ever emerged from hiding.”

The words made her skin tingle. She really had been hiding all these years. Not only from her parents but also from herself and the world. It had taken Knox and her feelings for him to push her out of her safe little nest.

Welk flipped through the leather-bound pages of an old-fashioned address book. “Her instruction was to transfer the money to you under whatever alias you now identified with, not as an inheritance, which we both felt you might have trouble accessing under your new identity without attracting the attention of the government, but rather through an offshore account. All I have to do is make you a signer on the account and the money is yours, I've been investing the inheritance to great results. I think you'll be pleased.”

Pleased
wasn't the right word. How could she be pleased about receiving a gift from the people who'd made her life hell? After all this time, she was finally on the verge of being free of them. The money felt like yet another shackle.

“If it's all right with you, I'd like to clear my afternoon schedule so that we may pay a visit to my lawyer today,” Welk said, tapping an entry in the address book. “He'll handle adding your name to the account with the necessary discretion. I assure you that you can trust him, as you can me.”

Maybe she would donate it all to a shelter for battered women and children. Maybe she would pass it to Haylie so she could escape. All Emily knew was that she wanted to keep her options open so she could decide what to do with the money in her own time instead of being forced to make a decision while her emotions were running so high. No more flights of chaotic passion. “That sounds good. Thank you.”

Welk removed his glasses again and sat back in his chair, studying her. “May I ask what your name is now?”

She drew a tremulous breath. Speaking it aloud in the presence of her parents' closest friend felt like leaping over a great divide. It was time to trust herself not to fall. It was time to trust that no matter what happened next, she was going to be all right. “Emily Ford.”

With a smile, he stood and walked around the desk. He extended his hand to her, his eyes welling with unshed tears. “Well, Emily, it's wonderful to meet you. It is my profound pleasure to fulfill your mother's final wish. Thank you.”

*   *   *

Emily returned to Texas on a cold, rainy night two weeks after she'd left. Like a beacon, the ever-shining lights of Murph's called to her as she stepped out of her car and stretched. Chicago had looked closer to Dulcet on paper. The drive had been a real slog, but she'd needed the time and the open road to think.

She pulled her suitcase from the back seat, then stood for a moment staring down at the two manila envelopes Charles had given her. One for her future, containing the offshore account information and recent bank statements, the other containing the final remnants of her past. Rebecca Youngston's driver's license, her birth certificate, her social security card, an expired passport, and photographs her parents had used in their search for her.

There was something volatile about that envelope and the information therein. A secret she no longer needed to protect, an identity she never wanted to use again. She didn't even want the envelope crossing the threshold of her apartment. She shoved it under the driver's seat as far as it would go, where it would have to stay until she decided on the best way to dispose of it. Then she tucked the envelope with the bank information into the front pocket of her suitcase. As soon as she was locked behind her apartment door, she'd have the solitude to process that particular grenade, and she didn't plan on making any hasty choices. That was what old Emily might have done. New, self-composed, thinking-with-her-brain-and-not-her-heart Emily was going to take her time and consider her options.

Murph was in his usual spot behind the front desk, playing a game on his phone. A handful of regulars were sweating through their grueling workouts to the sound of a classic rock tune playing over the gym's speakers. She pulled her suitcase behind her, smiling. It was good to be home.

Action in the boxing ring caught her eye and she gasped at the familiar face—the last person she could handle seeing tonight. Knox, who'd evidently taken up mixed martial arts. His shirt was off and his skin and hair were slick with sweat. His hands were protected by wraps, and his lips puffed out around a mouth guard. And he was circling his opponent, none other than Big Tommy. Emily's eyebrows shot up at that. Big Tommy was often described as the toughest guy at the gym. He kicked ass and took names from anyone foolish enough to take him on.

Slack-jawed, she ground to a halt just outside the door and watched them spar.

Knox was good. Fast on his feet. Tough. His eyes gleamed, sharp and dangerous. Every ripple or flex of muscle drew her attention to his lean, hard body. She'd made love to this man. She knew how he moved, how he kissed. She knew what all those bulky muscles felt like against her skin. A slow burn of desire settled low in her belly.

Yeah, Knox was definitely the worst person she could've encountered tonight.

“Hey, Em. You're back,” Murph called. “You need help with your suitcase?”

She shook herself out of her daze and sidled up to the counter, where she stole a peppermint from the tin Murph hid behind the pen holder. “I'm back. And, nah, I've got it. It's just the one.”

Murph nodded to the ring. “Your stalker's here.”

Her gaze found Knox again. “I can see that.”

“He's not so bad.”

Emily's heart squeezed, painfully. “That's the problem.”

“You probably need to know he's been here twice a day, every day, waiting for you, going on more than a week now. Letting anyone who will get in the ring with him kick his ass. I will say one thing about him—he can take a beating. ‘Course, that's not happening as much anymore. He's getting better.”

Every day?
Another surprise.

That now familiar longing for connection with him reached out from every cell of her being. As drained and raw as she was from her trip to Chicago, nothing sounded better than taking Knox in her arms and clinging to him tightly enough to block the world out, along with the pain, the heartache, and the impossible choices. But she was determined to make a clear-headed decision about her future, not return from discovering that her parents were dead only to fall right back into her old pattern of letting passion and desire rule her choices.

When Knox noticed Emily, he turned and took a step in her direction. His eyes swept over her from head to toe, but his inspection didn't last long. Taking advantage of his distraction, Big Tommy clocked his chin with a right hook. Knox staggered into the ropes. He shook his head as if trying to dislodge a stubborn mosquito, though he was probably trying to clear the stars from his vision.

“Get your head back in the match,” Big Tommy bellowed, knocking his fists together. “You're better than this. I don't care who just walked in. You've got to see your commitment through. And right now, that's in the ring with me. Let's go.”

Knox's focus swung back to the sparring match. He and Tommy squared up again. In a flurry of movement, they punched and blocked and kicked. Tommy attacked with a left jab that Knox evaded by spinning into a round kick that connected with Tommy's gut. This time, Tommy was the one staggering back.

Knox seized on the opportunity to pounce. He swept his leg under Tommy's feet and knocked him to the ground. Tommy didn't stay neutralized long. With a scissor kick, he brought Knox down to the floor with him. And in a few short moves, he had Knox pinned in a chokehold.

When Knox tapped out, Murph snorted. “Not bad, but the guy still has a lot to learn. We've got to work on his floor game. Lucky for him, he sprang for a lifetime membership.”

Emily flinched at that. “Lifetime membership?”

“I guess he really is sweet on you. I only sold it to him with the understanding that I'd revoke it if you had a problem with that.”

It was yet another decision she needed to postpone until her head was clear. “I'm not sure yet.”

“You keep me posted, sweetheart.” Murph nodded toward the ring. “Heads up. He's headed over. I'm going to go stand by the phone and pretend that I'm not listening to your conversation.”

Emily watched Knox push the ring's ropes down and vault over them to the floor, then tore her attention away to smile at Murph. “You're a doll, Murph.”

He winked at her. “Don't I know it.”

Knox stopped in front of her, breathing hard, a towel slung around his neck. Sweat dripped off his nose and beaded on his chest. “Hey. Hi.” He opened and closed his mouth, and she could see the wheels turning in his head, as though he couldn't decide on the next thing to say.

“You looked good up there,” she said by way of breaking the ice.

“Yeah? Felt like I got my ass kicked.” He glanced at her suitcase. “I'm glad you're back. I'm glad you're safe. I was worried.”

Before she realized what she was doing, she hugged herself. She'd wanted to present herself as strong and self-composed to him, to prove to herself how she was evolving, but the way he looked at her, it was as though he could already see past her bravado. “Safe, yes. But tired. And confused. And scared.”

He mopped his face with the towel. “What are you afraid of?”

“You. Well, you and me.” She'd already made herself vulnerable to him, so there was no sense in holding back now.

He released a heavy sigh, his eyes on hers. “That works both ways. But there's something you should know.”