Abby Road (28 page)

After brushing my teeth in the ladies room, I returned to the lobby to grab Todd and hit the road. He was standing by the elevator, chatting with Max. They were both smiling, and Max had his hand on Todd’s shoulder. The relief and happiness I felt from simply looking at them made me smile in turn. All my worrying that Max would have something against Todd, just because of his existence, was all for nothing.

Max, who apparently just said something extremely hilarious, started howling with laughter, but Todd only stared at him, wearing a befuddled, polite smile.

As I neared them, one of the engineers nabbed me, prattling on about vacation spots in Florida. I didn’t want to be all diva-rude, so I “hmm’ed” and nodded while eavesdropping on the other conversation across from me.

“What do you think it is about her?” Max asked Todd once he stopped laughing at his own joke, which probably had something to do with a girl from Nantucket.

Todd was holding a few business cards while entering something in his phone. “I can’t put my finger on it,” he answered, “but—”

“But,”
Max interrupted, “I bet you
did
put your finger on it. Didn’t ya, kid?”

Todd’s eyes slowly moved up to Max.

Uh-oh. I knew that expression . . . just like that day back in Florida when we’d nearly stumbled into a pack of teenagers. Seeing Todd like that made my neck break out in a sweat. I was about to spring from my one-sided conversation and place myself between the two men, when Max shook Todd’s shoulder.

“Heh-heh. I’m just messing with ya, sport.” He chuckled and looked away.

“To answer your question,” my insightful boyfriend amended, pulling back Max’s attention, “from the little I’ve learned, I believe it’s something you have or you don’t have.” Todd’s gaze left Max, and he noticed me watching. His tense expression melted. “And Abby has it.” He shot me a tiny smile.

“In spades,” Max tagged on, turning to look at me. “She sure is a long, cool drink of water.”

Todd’s eyes didn’t waver from me, but his brows pulled together, jaw clenched. He was about to say something. Or worse,
do
something.

Oh, crap.

I needed to excuse myself—right now—before their little pow-wow had Todd losing his temper and going Rocky Balboa all over my manager’s face.

Max chuckled again, giving Todd another shake of the shoulder. “I’ll see you kids tomorrow, bright and early.”

Molly came up behind me. “Are my cars at home?” I asked her, relieved that the tension was broken.

“The Mercedes is usually kept here in the underground lot,” she said, pulling a pen out of her hair, “but it’s being detailed. The Porsche and convertible are in your garage. I’m still driving the Mini Coop, if that’s okay.” She waited for my approval. I didn’t know why she bothered asking; she had been driving the Mini since the day I bought it. I didn’t care. She loved it. I should’ve just given it to her. “None of your others are here,” she added.

“Fine.” Max sighed. “Our car will drive you home.” He turned toward his office. “Grand to meet ya, fella,” he threw in Todd’s general direction.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Todd replied. But Max was already gone.

{chapter 19}

“OH! DARLING”

“W
hat food do you have here?” I asked.

“None,” Todd responded.

“What? Why?”

“Because I walked through the front door for the first time an hour ago. I haven’t shopped, have you?”

I groaned dramatically and rolled to the other side of the couch.

After the forty-two-mile drive to Malibu, I’d given Todd a lightning-fast tour of my house—there wasn’t much to see, of course. I stripped off my jewelry and heels, and we hiked a quarter mile up the beach to Todd’s new digs.

I liked his house. It was smaller than mine, but had a more open floor plan. My six-bedroom, seven-bath Mediterranean-inspired whatever was ridiculously huge. His living room featured wall-to-wall windows, facing west. The view out the French glass doors was fantastic, miles of blue water and blue sky. Beach, beach, beach.

The sofa I was flopped across sat in the middle of the room. Its design was interesting and modern. It sat low, with two spongy black cushions, white arms and base, and an array of gray and blue pillows that had lined the back before I kicked them to the floor.

My unpolished toes curled around the wool Berber carpeting that ran the length of the room, mixed tufts of brown, tan, and green that matched everything in the room.

On the walls that were not made of glass, there was an eclectic variety of hangings: bamboo runners, brightly colored abstracts, and more than one clock.

I propped my feet on the large, rectangular leather ottoman in the same espresso shade that marbled through the carpet. With my eyes closed, I listened to Todd unpacking in the other room. I tried to trick my brain into thinking we were at his house back in Seaside.

“Are you hungry?” Todd asked. He made his way from the master bedroom to the kitchen. “I’ll run out to the store later. I noticed one a few miles down the highway.”

My eyes flew open. “No!” I said as my stomach muscles tightened.

Not that store! That’s where . . .
I shut out the thought, forcing my attention up to the gorgeous crown molding. Luckily the sick feeling passed a few moments later.

“I mean, didn’t Molly stock the fridge?” I asked, turning around to rest my chin on the top of the couch. “She didn’t have to, but I was hoping.”

Todd opened the refrigerator. “She did.” He knelt down to explore the inventory. “Excellent. Barbeque pulled pork from Rib and Loin.” He removed a bag from the shelf. “How did it get here?”

“I may have mentioned to her that it’s your favorite.”

“No doubt you did.” He turned to flash his teeth at me. “But what I mean is, how did she get it here all the way from Tennessee in one day?”

“She probably had it flown in by special delivery.”

Todd nodded at my explanation.

“I’m looking forward to it after how much you raved about it all summer,” I added.

He lifted the lid of one Styrofoam container, inhaled its contents—sighing in ecstasy—then replaced the lid and returned the bag to the shelf.

“We’re not eating it tonight?”

“Patience,” he said. “It’ll taste even better tomorrow.”

“Mmm, can’t wait.”

His smile twisted into something roguish. “There’s nothing like a good-looking woman who smells like ribs. Er—wait a second.” The edge to his voice made me sit up. “What is
your
putrescent soy milk doing in
my
refrigerator?” He slammed the door closed and turned to me, green eyes squinting in mock disgust.

I rolled off the couch and walked to the kitchen “Oh. Hmm.” I scratched my chin. “I guess Molly
assumes
I’ll be over here a lot, although she might’ve asked you for a food list. What kind of assistant is she? She probably bought what she thinks all men—
Todd
!”

I found myself being yanked forward into a hug.

“Has anyone told you that you talk too much?” he whispered against my cheek.

“Really, Lieutenant Camford . . .” I moaned breathlessly. “You’re supposed to be an officer and a gentleman.”

Methodically he swept the hair off my shoulder and ran his mouth down the side of my neck. My body shuddered as I breathed him in. He pulled back, but only to move up the other side. His hands slid down my ribs and his thumbs hooked through my belt loops, pulling me closer. My back arched automatically when his mouth stopped on the hollow behind my ear.

“Thank you for inviting me here.”

“Sure,” I managed to say while I exhaled, gripping the back of his head.

“This is the best it’s ever been for me, Abby,” he murmured into my hair. “The best.” He kissed my ear. Slowly. “This.” He kissed it again. “I hope you understand that.”

“Yes,” I whispered, not really understanding anything.

Todd pulled back, leveling our faces. “Do you?” he asked intently.

Then we crashed together, like two dehydrated hikers finding an oasis in each other’s mouths. He tasted sweet and clean like Juicy Fruit gum at first. Then he tasted like Todd, like everything I loved.

“The best,” he repeated softly, his nose skimming the length of my cheek. I grabbed his face—
he
was talking too much now.

We free-fell for a while.

The pressure of his lips changed, went firm for just a second, and then intentionally weaker. After a lovely sigh, he bent his head over my shoulder, breathing hard and fast. Once again we had successfully rendered each other breathless.

“By the way,” he said, stepping back and twirling me out of his arms with a sexy little dance, “who chose all this? The furniture and everything.”

I reached out for him, comically grabbing the empty air in front of me.

“Yes, I agree, probably Molly,” he suggested, answering his own question.

“I wasn’t finished with you yet,” I complained, clutching the counter to steady my wobbly legs.

Todd’s lips twisted; he probably noticed I was incapacitated. He didn’t know the half of it.

I pressed both hands against my racing heart, shooting him an accusatory glare. “You know I can’t
handle
when you do that.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned steadily. It did something to the base of my stomach.

“This is a warning, Todd Camford. That shirt of yours
can
be torn off.”

“Relax, Abby, you’ll survive. Have some ice.” He chuckled good-naturedly, strolling past me toward the living room. “You wish,” he added with a wink, tucking in his shirt.

Exhaling long and slowly, I stared after him.
The silly boy, he has no idea
.

I leaned over the sink, sipping a glass of cold water, contemplating gnawing on a chunk of glacier to cool myself down, or maybe standing inside an industrial freezer. A few minutes later, I found Todd at the open French doors, gazing out at the Pacific.

“Sometimes in the morning the water is so blue it almost matches the sky,” I said. “It’s like watching a moving picture of sapphires.”

“You love it here,” he surmised as a cool breeze off the ocean blew into the room. Turning to me, he added, “And I love—” He cut off. My heart pounded as we gazed at each other, that unspoken phrase hanging in the air.

“Me, too,” I whispered. Even my hand holding the glass of ice water started to feel hot.

Todd’s eyelids drooped as he released a slow sigh that ended in a growl. “
Bella
mio
,” he purred in an exaggerated Italian accent, eyeing me like a jaguar about to pounce.

“Stop.” I pressed one hand out. “Back away.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” He rubbed an index finger up my arm. “I just want to kiss you again. Come here.”

“Kiss?” I pulled my hand away, with probably just a bit of dramatic flair. “You call that thing you do a
kiss
? Ha!” I pointed at the area in front of the fridge where he’d attacked me only a few minutes ago.

He tilted his head and frowned in confusion.

“Todd Camford.” I pressed the cool glass against my cheek. “I swear to you, I will lose all rational control if we keep kissing like
that
. Are you prepared for that eventuality?”

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Lightweight.” He turned from me to face the room, while I felt a tiny bead of sweat trickle down my neck.

“So, back to the subject.” He waved his hand around. “Who did all this? I’m leasing the house, but I know it didn’t come furnished.” He pointed to a framed picture of a sunset. Too much turquoise. “It’s all a bit girly, not really me.”

“Save whatever you like; we’ll return the rest,” I suggested. “I’m pretty sure Molly organized the decorating, so she’ll see about the returns.” I finished my water and set the glass down. “I know what you mean. You saw my house earlier. It’s so empty you’d never know I’ve lived there for so long. The place was crammed full of stuff when Christian was alive.”

I had no idea why I just said that. I hadn’t meant to; it just popped in my head then popped out of my mouth. And suddenly, the room started to spin.

My flashbacks had become more frequent lately. They’d started in hardcore about a week ago; being back in California was obviously an additional trigger. Panicked at being discovered, I darted my eyes to Todd, but he didn’t seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Which was a relief. I didn’t want him to know how derailed I’d been feeling lately.

I cleared my throat, trying to swallow the lump that was always there when I thought about my brother.

“All his things are gone now,” I pressed on conversationally, needing to make myself busy. I moved to the mantel, straightening the already straight mahogany clock. I attempted to swallow the lump again, but it was still there, bigger now. Was it growing? I tried to distract myself by speaking, but the subject wouldn’t leave my mind.