Heart 2 Heart Page 3

  “Thank you,” she managed to croak out.

  Travis spoke up. “Can you join us for a minute?.”

  Lane looked to Kyle. “I won’t be disturbing you?” You’ll definitely be disturbing me. “I mean if you were going to talk about cop stuff?”

  Travis answered before Kyle had a chance. “We don’t talk about cop stuff before breakfast. Please sit down.”

  Kyle pulled it together enough to stand and hold the chair as Lane sat to her left. Her action was not missed by her partner.

  “Are you going to eat that or can I have it?” Travis asked reaching across the table, his fork leading the way to the fluffy mound of whipped cream.

  “You get any closer and you’ll draw back a nub.” Kyle teased her partner. She didn’t know what Lane had brought her, but it smelled wonderful and she absolutely loved whipped cream.

  “Aren’t you going to try it and tell me what you think?” Lane asked nodding toward the glass sitting in front of Kyle.

  The double entendre hung in the air, and Kyle answered the challenge with a tentative sip. She licked the residual traces of the white cream from her lips and placed the glass back on the table. “Just as I suspected. The perfect combination of sweet and spicy all in one taste.”

  “I’m glad you like it. It’s raspberry-mocha frappuccino. You’ll have to ask for it the next time you come in.” Okay, I’m getting in deep here, and if that didn’t make my interest clear then I’ll have to spill it on you next time.

  “I’ll do that.” Kyle let her gaze travel quickly over Lane’s body as she sipped. She couldn’t quite believe the stunning woman was flirting with her. She feared this was just a dream, and when she woke Lane would be gone.

  New customers arrived, and Kyle lingered over her frappuccino so she could watch Lane smile, and walk, and angle her head the way she did when she took breakfast orders. Occasionally Lane glanced her way and made eye contact. Each time she did, Kyle’s heart jumped so hard she almost gasped out loud.

  “You done?” Travis asked with a quizzical grin.

  Not even close. “Sure.” Kyle dropped some cash on the table and stood. With a parting nod in Lane’s direction, she left the restaurant with Travis and they walked through the parking lot toward their cars

  “Jesus H. Christ, Bain! I don’t know about you, but I need to go home and take a cold shower,” her partner remarked.

  I need more than a cold shower!

  When she didn’t reply he kept talking. “Holy shit, she’s hot.”

  “Shut up Travis.”

  “What’s wrong? I’m telling you she is H-O-T.”

  Kyle held her control by a thread. “I said shut up Travis. Your mouth is running faster than your hormones.” Kyle unlocked her car door. Travis started to say something else and she quickly shut him down with a menacing, “Travis…”

  “I know, I know, you’re not in the market for a relationship. You know, you could probably use a good f—” He stopped in mid-sentence, realizing he’d gone far enough.

  She knew he was a smart guy when he said he’d follow her to the station.

  *

  The day dragged by, and it seemed like forever before Kyle was back in her car after the end of her shift. The pink message slip the station operator had handed her after lunch lay quietly in her lap giving no indication of the turmoil it caused her. Thankfully Travis was pre-occupied with dramas of his own and didn’t see her step falter when she read the simple message: I’d like to speak with you. Lane Connor.

  Kyle’s hands were sweating as she pulled into the parking lot of The SandPiper. She had imagined several different scenarios for why Lane wanted to talk to her, but as she approached the front door, she had no more of a clue than when she got behind the wheel.

  The interior was quiet without the morning hustle and bustle of silverware clinking on dishes bearing bacon and eggs. The aroma of coffee still permeated the air, and light jazz music was playing soft and low. Kyle had never been in The SandPiper at this time of the day, and she liked the quiet coziness. She looked around, not quite sure what she was doing here, when a soft velvety voice drifted over her shoulder.

  “Detective?”

  Her heart jumped for joy in hearing the familiar voice behind her. Kyle turned to face the woman she was there to see. “Hi,” she said almost shyly. “I got your message.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lane apologized. “I didn’t mean you had to come here.”

  Kyle knew she didn’t, but she wanted to see Lane again, if not to make sure she wasn’t a dream then because she had missed her. “I know, it’s on my way home, so I just thought I’d take a chance you were still here.”

  “Thanks for coming.” Lane was suddenly tongue-tied.

  “Is this an official visit?” Please say yes. Kyle’s eyes were fixed on blue ones the color of the morning sky.

  “No.” Lane answered simply.

  Oh shit.

  Lane was concerned at the expression on Kyle’s face. She expected her to turn and run any moment. “Would you like to sit down? You don’t look well.”

  Kyle cursed her loss of control. As soon as she read the message, she knew this was a social call. She should have been better prepared.

  “I’m fine. Really,” Kyle added seeing the disbelief in Lane’s eyes.

  Lane searched the face in front of her looking for confirmation. “Will you have dinner with me?”

  Kyle’s heart skipped a beat. This was what she was afraid of. She wanted to have dinner with Lane and, if she were honest with herself, she was interested in more than that. But she had Hollie to think about. Either by design or sheer avoidance, Kyle had not yet found herself in this position. She wanted to say yes and she had to say no.

  “I’d love to.” She was immediately overwhelmed by guilt. So much for parental responsibility.

  “Saturday night?”

  Kyle’s mind raced for an excuse, but she knew there was none. She would do dinner and nothing else. “Saturday’s perfect.”

  Lane’s smile lit up her face and her eyes sparkled.

  “Seven o’clock? Do you like steak? We could go to The Stockyards.”

  “That’ll be fine.” Kyle was bumped by a customer coming into the darkened room, making her move closer to Lane than she’d ever been.

  Their breasts brushed and Kyle’s nipples tensed. Uncharacteristically unnerved, she shuffled her feet and put her hands in her pockets instead of where they wanted to be, untying the ribbon that held Lane’s hair. Lane reached for a business card and pen lying on the hostess podium. Her hand shook slightly as she handed them to Kyle.

  “Your address?”

  “Right.” Kyle chuckled, breaking some of the tension between them. “Look, can I meet you at the restaurant? My pager might go off, so I…” She let the comment die.

  It wasn’t a lie, her pager might go off but it would in all likelihood be Gretchen with some problem with Hollie. And Kyle didn’t want to bring Hollie into the picture, at least not right now. Kyle was very protective of her daughter, and she swore that if and when she resumed dating, women would not be parading in and out of Hollie’s life. Kyle wanted to get to know the woman before she introduced her little girl into the mix.

  Lane frowned slightly in puzzlement. She wondered if she’d read too much into Kyle’s responses when they flirted. She didn’t seem especially eager to have dinner, in fact Lane had the impression she was looking for a way out. She decided to offer one but didn’t get the chance.

  Kyle forced a smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta run. See you Saturday.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Lane said.

  All she got as Kyle strode off was a distracted smile and a mumbled, “Me too.”

  Chapter Three

  Lane finished examining herself in the mirror and buttoned the blouse that effectively hid the ugly reminder on her chest. The scar was becoming less and less noticeable as the months passed, but it seemed like only yesterday that she was sitting on
a paper sheet in a paper gown in an examination room far too cold for her state of undress.

  “Jesus Christ, Evelyn,” she’d complained. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here. How do you expect your patients to get well if they’re freezing their nipples off?”

  “It’s good to see you too, Lane.” Dr. Evelyn Harris was a new, upstart physician when Lane came to see her for the first time seventeen years earlier. Over time, she’d administered antibiotics, antihistamines, stitches and an occasional cast for Lane and claimed she was her favorite patient.

  “Other than bitching about my utilities, what brings you in today?” Evelyn reviewed Lane’s symptoms collected by her nurse but preferred to hear it from her patients themselves.

  “Cutting right to the chase today I see. What’s got your goat?” This ritual bantering was a standard practice between them, and they enjoyed pushing each other’s buttons to see who broke first.

  “Nothing that a good romp in the sack won’t cure. But that discussion is for another time. What’s up? You look terrible.”

  “And I’m paying you how much for that official diagnosis?”

  Evelyn grasped Lane’s wrist and felt her pulse as she placed the stethoscope in her ears. Her face was a picture of concentration.

  Lane sighed and leaned back on her hands. “I feel crummy Evelyn. I have no energy, a cough that won’t go away and the chills. At first I thought it was a cold or allergies but I just can’t shake it.”

  Evelyn launched into a series of questions about Lane’s activities leading up to the onset of her symptoms. Forty five minutes and one complete physical later Lane was dressed and awaiting a verdict.

  “They’ll read your chest x-ray today and the blood work should come back in a day or two and we’ll know more then. Your lungs sound a little scratchy and this script for an inhaler should clear that up. You probably caught a bug that’s enjoying you as its host too much to leave.” Evelyn winked at her. “Either way, I want you to pump up on the multi-vitamins and take it easy for a few days until we know exactly what’s going on.”

  Lane felt no better after a few days, and several weeks later she’d collapsed at The SandPiper and was taken to the hospital by ambulance. She had been subjected to a battery of tests and could have sworn they’d taken half of her blood by the time Evelyn entered her room with a somber expression.

  “Good God, Evelyn you look like you’re about to tell me I’m dying.” Her stomach plummeted when there was no smile in response to her joke. “Evelyn?”

  “We’ve finally found out why you’re not getting better. It’s called endocarditis. That’s an inflammation of the inside lining of the heart chambers and the heart valves.”

  “Okay.” Lane had been sick before, and a shot or some pills always took care of it. She had no reason to believe that would not be the case now.

  Evelyn seemed to pick up on Lane’s cavalier attitude, and her face grew sad. “No, Lane, it’s not okay. You’re very sick, and you might even get sicker.”

  Lane was not sure she had heard correctly. A fog began to infiltrate her head, and she had a hard time following the conversation. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  Evelyn took her hand. “If you don’t respond to treatment within the next forty-eight hours,” she hesitated then continued, “you may not get better.”

  Lane didn’t get any better, and eight days after entering the hospital she received a new heart. Now, more than a year later, all she had to show for her incredible ordeal was a scar and a bathroom cabinet full of immunosuppressant drugs.

  Shaking off the melancholy that accompanied thoughts of her surgery, Lane brushed her hair, stepped into her shoes, and turned off the light in her bedroom. Walking into the kitchen, Lane exhaled deeply as she gathered her purse and searched for her keys. She hadn’t been this nervous to be in the company of a woman in a long time. It had been years since she’d been out on a date, and she hoped she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself because the rules had changed and no one had told her. What if Kyle wanted to sleep with her? Her doctor cleared her for sex months ago, but it was very different to have permission and to actually do it. She wasn’t afraid of having a heart attack, but she hadn’t told Kyle specifically about her surgery, and it wasn’t as if she could hide her scar from a lover.

  “Get a grip Lane. It’s only dinner.” Lane told her reflection in the mirror before she stepped into her garage.

  *

  Kyle was sure she looked as ridiculous as she felt. Single women hanging out in the bar of a posh restaurant were typically looking for something other than their date to arrive. For at least the fifth time this evening, Kyle chastised herself for not having the guts to simply go to dinner with Lane like a grown up. She should have let Lane pick her up or at least volunteered to drive. It wasn’t as if one meal together would signal a lifetime commitment, a white picket fence, and a minivan, for crying out loud. God forbid. She may have a child, but she’d rather walk than be seen in a soccer-mom mobile. A dinner was just that and nothing more. Normally, she fixed a light dinner and ate alone after Hollie had gone to bed. Why not enjoy a decent steak in conversation with a beautiful woman for a change?

  Kyle frowned when she looked at her watch and saw that it was only four minutes since the last time the diamond encrusted dial winked back at her. Taking a deep breath, she glanced toward the front entrance and what she saw took her breath away.

  Lane stood there in a dark green suit looking like she just stepped out of the latest issue of Vogue. Her hair was swept back off her face, earrings dangled from her ears, and her face was a mask of beauty. My God, you’re gorgeous, and I’m in big trouble here. The thought had barely registered when Lane looked right at her and glided across the lobby to stop in front of her.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Kyle was incapable of any coherent thought. Lane’s eyes sparkled, but even in the dim lighting of the restaurant Kyle could see a wariness beneath the surface. She suspected Lane had picked up on her own trepidation of this evening and was being cautious. Jesus, Kyle. The woman has been through hell and went out on a potentially embarrassing limb when she asked you out, and you treat her like a pending root canal. Your mother would be ashamed.

  Feeling like a real cad, as well as a fool, Kyle stepped away from the bar and said, “I’ve been looking forward to tonight.”

  She took in the skin exposed by Lane’s open collar before lifting her eyes to Lane’s face once more. The polite thing to do now was to pay a compliment, but Kyle didn’t want to sound like she was saying what just anyone would say. She wanted Lane to know just how attractive she found her.

  “You look beautiful,” she said. “And not just because what you’re wearing is stunning.” Lane was totally unprepared for such a personal compliment, and she knew enough about women to know that it was not contrived flattery. Despite Lane’s heels, Kyle was taller than her, and Lane had to look up to meet her gaze.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  Kyle was wearing charcoal trousers, a light gray silk shirt with a contrasting black jacket. Her dark hair was combed back from her face accentuating her green eyes which at that moment were focused totally on her. She looked polished, rugged and sophisticated all in one very attractive package. Anyone looking at her would assume she was a corporate executive and in Lane’s mind she was every bit as successful.

  “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “No, not at all,” Kyle said. “I got here right before you did,”

  Lane filed that polite lie away for future reference. She knew Kyle had been waiting longer than she implied because she’d sat in her car for at least fifteen minutes in plain view of the door as she racked her brain for an excuse to cancel the entire evening. If giving such short notice wasn’t incredibly rude, she would have backed out. But taking a long look at the dashing detective standing tall in front of her made her glad she hadn’t.

  Their dr
inks had barely been served when the hostess arrived to show them to their table. After the waiter had taken their order, Lane twirled her wineglass in her fingers, suddenly nervous. “I guess this is the time when I’m supposed to ask you why you wanted to be a cop?”

  “You could. But you could ask me something totally different too.” Kyle sipped her drink. The bartender had made her a Grey Goose gimlet, and the two olives skewered on the toothpick was the crowning touch.

  “All right, why did you accept my dinner invitation?”

  “Jeez, and I thought I was a tough interrogator. You take no prisoners.”

  “I’ve come to realize that life’s too short to pull any punches,” Lane said matter-of-factly.

  Kyle studied the woman seated across from her. The lighting in the dining room highlighted Lane’s hair and softened her features. Her earrings danced when she spoke, and Kyle suddenly wanted to nibble on her perfectly shaped ears. “I will admit I was a bit surprised, but I guess I accepted because it sounded interesting. Why did you ask?”

  “Ah, the leading question after the evasive answer.” Lane laughed. “I guess I need to remember that you’re a detective who spends every day getting people to confess.”

  Kyle enjoyed the tease. She had started to relax and simply enjoy her evening with Lane. She was surprised at how quickly her sense of humor surfaced, and she was not as tongue tied as she had been the last time they talked. She was beginning to feel like her old self again; the person she’d been before her life was upended by the death of her sister.

  “I’m off duty, which means I left my rubber hose at home. Unless you want me to run back and get it.” She set her drink down and started to rise from the chair as if she were going to do just that.

  Oh this is going to be interesting. “Because I find you attractive and I’d like to get to know you a little better—without the clinking of orange juice glasses and the smell of coffee,” Lane replied, alluding to the fact that the only times she and Kyle had ever talked were at The SandPiper.