Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 01 - The Day Job is Murder (6 page)

The Dream

SEAN WASN’T JUST A RICH man—he was an extremely wealthy one.

It was repayment for one kind act, hinging back to that convenience store, from over a decade ago. Talk about the ripple effect.

Quinn’s letter said to “find love.” He already knew who he needed in his life, and now, thanks to the old man, he’d make it happen.

He walked out of the lawyer’s office, with the chest tucked under an arm, his newfound wealth providing a bounce to his gait. Life had been flipped upside down. Anything that had troubled him before, he now had the means to eradicate.

He would make it so Sara couldn’t say no. It was now up to him to dig into his repressed romantic side and sway her over.

He set the chest on the passenger seat and his cell rang. He checked the caller ID and, when he saw it was Sara, sent it to voice mail. He couldn’t talk to her yet. He had to get things in order first.

He tucked the phone in the console, his attention diverting to the chest. He didn’t open it in front of the lawyers—should he now?

He resisted the urge. He was going to take care of something else first, but with each stoplight, his eyes drifted to it.

Crazy, it was probably handkerchiefs.

His mind was torn between the chest and winning Sara’s heart, but the latter gained victory.

He merged back into traffic. His thoughts centered on popular chic flicks—
When Harry Met Sally…, Sleepless in Seattle, Shall we Dance?, The Notebook, You’ve Got Mail, Pretty Woman, The Titanic
, and let’s not discount their all-time favorite,
An Affair to Remember
.

Girls loved large romantic gestures.

It might have helped if he had watched most of these movies. Of the ones he did know, they didn’t fit his circumstances. There wasn’t any secrecy. They had reciprocal feelings. While he could now carry off the role of the wealthy businessman, Edward Lewis, in
Pretty Woman
, Sara was no Vivian Ward. There would be no sinking ship, no escalator to ride up, wearing a tuxedo while clutching a single rose to his chest, and there was no Empire State Building in Albany, New York.

To sum it up, the line from
Jerry Maguire
fit best. “You had me at hello.” That was exactly how he felt about Sara.

And despite having the means to buy her anything she dreamed of, she was down to earth and found happiness in simple things—but maybe it was because she was accustomed to that?

He’d figure something out.

The clock read four fifteen when he pulled into the station parking lot.

He found Sara at her desk, slumped forward, her hand to her forehead. She looked up when she must have heard him approach.

“Where have you been?” Despite her obvious attempts at being cross, there was a hint of happiness in her eyes.

“I had that appointment. You knew about it.” He smiled at her. He was so nervous he feared his next breath wouldn’t come.

“Yes, how did it go? I tried to reach you a few times.”

He had to act now or drown in emotions. “Please, put your coat on, Sara. Trust me.”

“Sean, what are you doing? Don’t you want to know why I was trying to reach you?”

There was a tinge of rejection and hurt in her voice. He took a deep breath.

“I apologize.”

She nodded. “I believe we’ve found Mr. Cunningham’s killer.”

“Good, good.”

“Sean, don’t you want to know more?”

“Sure, yes, of course. Continue.”

“We figured it was a case of mistaken identity, and we were leaning toward an addict looking to score drugs—well, that wasn’t the case.” She filled him in on her day. “It stood to reason, he wasn’t there for that purpose because he had drugs already. It turns out he was hired by a rival drug dealer to kill Eddie. Eddie’s one street over from Cunningham, same house number.” Sara beamed. “And we’ve got the rival dealer and one of his customers in custody. The boot prints, the fake fur, all of it lines up. We even got the gun.”

He let out another breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“So, what is it Sean?”

“Put your coat on. I need to show you something.”

“Okay.”

She had just slipped her second arm in the sleeve when he walked over and snapped on handcuffs—one to her wrist, the other to his.

“Sean?”

“Not one word right now. Please. Just trust me. Come on.”

She moved in line with him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Like I said, I need you to trust me.”

His heart was pounding. He had tunnel vision and his appendages tingled with adrenaline as he led her to the parking lot and his beat-up Chevy.

“This part will be tricky.”

Sara was laughing. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve heard the saying, you sound like a parrot?” He laughed. “I’ll slip through the passenger side and over the console.” He started to put his plan into action and realized the futility of it.

“You’re crazy—”

He pressed his index finger to her lips and her eyes met his.

“I’m going to undo us. For now.”

She blinked and her forehead tightened, then she nodded.

He slid the key in and released the cuffs. “Please, get in.” Sean held the door open for her and shut it once she was inside. He ran around, as fast as he could, to the driver’s side and turned the ignition before he lost the nerve.

“It’s just a short drive.”

“Do we really have time for this? Sean, what happened at the lawyer’s this afternoon? You’re acting funny.”

He felt her eyes on his profile but didn’t look over at her. If he did, he’d lose the necessary courage. They say that with money comes confidence, but maybe he hadn’t had it long enough. He didn’t remember being this timid ever before.

“Just trust me, Sara. I will explain everything.”

The drive went in silence. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but from her energy, he read confusion and intrigue. He took that as a good sign.

He, on the other hand, was coaxing his heart rate to slow down before he knocked off with a heart attack.

He parallel parked. “All right, we’re here.”

“The capital building?”

He swallowed roughly. He figured there was one movie he could mirror. This might not be the Empire State Building, but they had waited a long time to be together, and it was a gorgeous architectural sight.

“Sean?”

He squeezed her hand and then got out of the car.

She waited until he came around to open the door for her.

Her eyes were moist as he leaned over to her level and reached for her hand. “Come with me, please.”

She wet her lips. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“No more handcuffs.” She laughed, a normally soothing sound, but this time it carried hesitation and tension.

He smiled. “Agreed.”

He led her, by the hand, trudging through the few inches of snow, to the spot under the maple tree, where they had first met. He turned to face her, holding both of her hands, summoning the ability to peer into her eyes as he spoke.

“I figured out a way we can be together.”

“Sean, you know we’ve been through this.” She averted her eyes.

He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face. “I love you, and I know you love me.”

“I can’t deny that. Please tell me what all this is about.”

“Mr. Quinn left me everything he had.”

“But you said he didn’t have much, that he’s lived in the same house all his life.”

“Turns out, by choice. Sara, he was a billionaire, a multi-billionaire.”

Her hands filtered out of his.

“Guess you won’t have any problem getting women now.” She smiled, a half-born expression. Her eyes were still wet.

“Sara, there is a problem with that.”

She looked up at him, her voice shaky as she spoke. “And what is that?”

“I told you before. I already found the woman I want, and my eyes, my soul, my heart only wants her, and that’s you.”

A stray tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away with a soft caress of his fingertip. He traced out from her cheek and up to her brow, then, as she closed her eyes, he took her mouth.

She surrendered and they melted as one and it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. They fit perfectly, as if meant to be. The search was over, his dream was about to become reality. It took everything to pull back from her embrace, her taste lingered on his lips as he bent to one knee.

The spongy, wet ground soaked through his pant leg and chilled his skin. He didn’t care.

He opened the small silver box, exposing the white-gold band that held a sparkling five-carat oval-cut diamond.

“Sara Cain, will you marry me?”

Her chin quivered and her hand snapped to cover her mouth. She dropped it an instant later. “But we’ve only had one date, and that was two years ago.”

He remained there, vulnerable, his heart fracturing in his chest. “That’s all it took, Sara. I knew then. I know now. We’re meant to be together. You know it too.”