Permanent (Indelibly Marked) (Volume 1) (15 page)

What he stepped into brought a sting of bile in the back of his throat. Not only did Lindsay’s smile dissipate at the sight of him, but she and Dillon looked perfect together. She was Shane’s and he’d continue his quest, big brother or not.

“I was just telling your business manager about how instrumental I was in the concept for the tattoo shop.” Dillon faced his brother and put his hand on Lindsay’s shoulder.

“Oh, so you were telling her fairy tales.” He tried to catch Lindsay’s eyes, but she turned to her books.

“I have to say, she is one of your better connections, much better than that guy who gives you free toilet paper.”

In two steps he crossed the room and took hold of Lindsay’s arm, managing to move her enough to get Dillon’s hand from her. “Lindsay and I have to get going, Carson borrowed my car.”

“Then if Lindsay doesn’t mind, I’ll bum a ride with the two of you … since we’re going to the same place.” Dillon headed toward the door.

“There’s only enough room in her car for me, Linds and our stuff.”

Dillon tilted his head. “Well if you’re so busy with the shop and the media, why don’t I accompany Lindsay home? I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way when you have work.”

Shane balled his fist. Why did he bother kicking walls when the real object of his anger stood less than three feet away?

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” Lindsay’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“You’re not.” He pulled her closer to him and narrowed his eyes at Dillon. “She’s never any trouble and she’s not driving home alone or with a stranger.”

“I’m hardly a stranger.”

“Carson will pick you up when he gets back.” Shane lifted his chin as if he’d cocked a weapon. “Why don’t you give Emily a call?”

Silence dropped on the room and finally Dillon nodded. “I’ll wait for Carson.” He turned to Lindsay. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you, I’m sure I’ll see you back at home.”

She waved.

Shane ground his teeth and resisted the urge to physically drag his brother out of his shop. He couldn’t believe he had to sleep under the same roof with him that night, but those problems paled against what was most important.

“Let’s go.” He gave Lindsay a tug. For the first time in their history she resisted, and he turned to find her big blue eyes staring at him. Ivan’s words echoed in his mind. He’d better soften up. “Lindsay?”

She continued to stare.

“Come on.” He attempted a cute yet charming smile.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” All of a sudden his mouth felt stuffed full of gauze and he kicked the door closed.

“Why do you do these things?” She looked down at the floor.

“What?”

“Everything.”

“Like?” Heated anger rose, starting at his toes and working its way up.

“I can drive myself home. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Something in him snapped. “Absolutely not! I take care of you.”

She raised her head, mouth wide open.

“Me!” He jerked his thumb toward his chest. “No one else. Not Carson, not Ivan, not Emily, not Dillon, not some jackass at your work or anyone else. I do it!”

Lindsay’s purse dropped to the floor as she covered her face with both hands.

“Wait.” He’d made her cry, not at all how he thought things would go. He managed to get her into his arms.  “I’m sorry. Please look at me.”

She tilted her head up.

Shane tenderly dried her tears with his fingers and tried again. “I feel very strongly that I’m the one to take care of you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Never say that.” Out of nowhere his window of opportunity opened and he slid his arm down to the small of her back. “In fact, before we firmly established that you will call me for any of your needs, I actually came in here to ask you if I could take you out Saturday night.”

She bit her lip like she was trying to hold back her answer as well as the tears glazing her eyes.

“Just you and me, outside of this tattoo shop.” He braced for her to either start hugging him or scream yes. Instead she remained silent and he broke out into a sweat. In reality the pause might have only been a few seconds, but it felt six hours long.

“May I think about it?”

“What?” Wasn’t he supposed to be telling her what time he’d be picking her up?

She took a breath. “May I think about it?”

He’d just asked her out, explained that he cared about her, and she needed to think about it? What kind of crap was that? He gritted his teeth. Was the guy with the Mohawk good enough to run to for help, but not good enough to go out with? “Sure.”

Chapter Eleven

Lindsay bent over her cup of coffee, praying the steam would infuse the caffeine directly into her pores and wake her up. She calculated that in the last two days she’d slept approximately forty-two minutes. Yes, she lay in bed, but sleep eluded her.

Shane asked her out.

On a real live date.

Not only did he ask her out, but he did it early in the week and for Saturday night.

She wanted this.

She dreamt about it.

She was terrified of it.

How could he go from yelling about who drove her where, to asking her out? She still wasn’t sure, but it kept her awake all night trying to figure it out.

It didn’t add up. Nothing made sense. Something was off if she couldn’t just accept his invitation.

She pried herself up and dressed in a black skirt suit with a burgundy top and assessed her appearance. It took only one glance in the mirror to know why she wasn’t accepting his date. She threw on her sunglasses to cover her red-rimmed eyes and left her apartment.

“You truly give this place some class.” Dillon stood outside her door and tilted his Styrofoam coffee cup in her direction.

She hadn’t seen Dillon since that night at the shop. Actually, she hadn’t seen much of anyone since then. Shane was busy with a celebrity piece and filming, and her job had kept her late. He would text or call, but it wasn’t the same as before. The question stood between them, widening the gap instead of bringing them closer.

She studied Shane’s unique brother. He wore a designer grey suit tailored to perfection, a crisp white shirt, and red tie. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you.” He looked her up and down. “You seem ready for another day in the corporate jungle.”

“More like corporate landfill.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I better get going.” It was still early, but she couldn’t sit in her apartment thinking about Shane.

He chuckled. “I was hoping you might give this weary traveler a ride down the sewage canal with you.” He ran his hands down his lapels. “I start my own set of corporate waste today and my car is stuck in purgatory.”

A flash of the exchange between Shane and Dillon went through her mind. It was strange and crazy, but Shane wasn’t himself then.

“It’s still early, I’ll buy you breakfast.” He graced her with another smile.

Unwilling to be the cause of another clash between the Elliott men, she nodded. After all, he was Shane’s brother. “I know a great muffin place.” One of those heavenly muffins called to her. Thanks to Shane, the owner knew her and made sure she got her favorite flavors.

“Let’s not slum at one of my brother’s haunts. I know a place on Beverly Drive.” He motioned for her to go down the stairs.

 While she’d longed to go to one of those fancy Beverly Hills restaurants, she’d never call any activity with Shane slumming. “All right.”

They drove to a small French-style café. He told her about how he managed to transfer from his real estate development firm in Los Angeles to New York and then back to Los Angeles where they welcomed him back with open arms.

“Did Shane know you were coming home?”

Dillon took a bite of his omelet and shook his head. “Not until I showed up at the shop needing a set of keys to our apartment.”

“Oh.” She tasted the quiche Dillon had suggested and did a double-take to make sure she didn’t dream that bite. Full of pancetta, gruyere cheese, just the right amount of onion, and a crust that melted in her mouth, it was perfect.

“So we like the quiche?” Dillon laughed.

“It’s amazing, but …” She filled up her fork again and studied the dish.

“But?”

“Traditional Quiche Lorraine doesn’t have the cheese or the onion.”

“What?”

Obviously he didn’t ask because he hadn’t heard her. Since he didn’t seem amused with her tidbits of knowledge like Shane, she diverted him with another question. “Why did you transfer back?”

He strummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Sometimes you are just not appreciated and you know it’s time to go.”

She stared at him, his words sinking in. “Like time to reinvent yourself?”

“Yeah, that’s why I came back.”

For the first time since moving to California, someone other than Shane made the blood flow through her veins faster. “Don’t you think it’ll be hard to come back?”

He answered with a shrug. “I’m sort of hoping to just blend in.”

“I understand.” Blonde hair, designer clothes, teeth whitening and high heels were supposed to help her blend too.

“How are you fitting in?” He laughed.

“I’m an accountant, we’re all the same.” She forced a laugh at her own joke.

He took a gentle hold of her wrist. “Not when you’re with my brother and his brood.”

Dillon saw it. He knew she didn’t belong there. She knew too, but how could she tell him that Permanent was the only place she really felt like she fit in? She loved the shop and everyone there. “I sort of just fell into it.”

“Don’t take me wrong, I think you would fit in anywhere.” He kept hold of her. “You stand out, but in a good way.”

“I better get to work.” She reached for her purse and Dillon let go.

“Absolutely not, you saved me from having to take a cab today.” He retrieved his wallet and tossed cash on the table. “I was also hoping I could sucker you into chauffeuring me home tonight.” He pulled out her chair for her. “Considering you liked the quiche so much, maybe we should try some real French food for dinner.”

Her heart lurched.  Did Dillon just ask her out? She wasn’t sure and didn’t know if she wanted to be sure. “I have to go to the shop tonight, but I am happy to be your taxi service.” Steadying herself, she walked out of the restaurant.

After dropping him off, her stomach churned as she performed her mental tally. It would have been easier to say yes to Dillon than Shane.

*~*~*

“We just finished the June returns.” Lindsay’s father announced over the phone. “It felt like something was missing this year.”

She winced.

“Oh, I know what it was,” he grunted, “you.”

“We just finished our returns as well.”

“Well, when you have corporate assistants and all, I’m sure it’s much easier.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

His voice softened. “Do you miss it here at all?”

“Of course.”

“Your sister found a box of your clothes in the basement. Did you want us to send it?”

“No, those don’t fit anymore.” She gripped the edge of her desk. Why did her sister have to go snooping in the basement, she’d hidden that box pretty well. “Please don’t send them.”

Her call waiting went off. “Daddy, I have to go.”

“All right, I hope you’re finding something that fits out there.”

“Bye.” She almost dropped the phone trying to get to the other line. “Hello, this is Lindsay.”

“Are you in business mode?”

She trembled at Shane’s voice. “I have a meeting in a minute.” Since the day he’d asked her on the date, she trembled every time they talked. He wanted an answer and she wanted to give him one, but couldn’t. She was stuck, as if her heart was in escrow.

“I won’t keep you. I wanted to remind you about Ivan’s party tonight.”

“I remember.” She shifted in her chair and Rick stopped outside her door.

“You’re coming, right?”

“Of course.” She turned away from Rick. “Is there a reason you thought I forgot?”

“No, it’s just that this is a very important party.”

“Ivan’s turning twenty-nine, not thirty.” All she got him was a cake.

“It’s not that,” he paused. “I just thought maybe before the party we could talk.”

She pursed her lips. The hourglass had run out of sand. “Okay.”

Rick entered and sat down.

“I have to go.”

“Text me later.”

When Rick leaned over her desk she knew she needed to get off the call. “I will.” Without saying goodbye she hung up and put her phone on the desk, glaring at the intruder.

He tapped his watch. “Personal calls at work?”

Not dignifying his remark with a response, she grabbed her files, sliding her pencils and everything else on top of the desk inside. “Don’t we have a meeting?” She walked past him into the conference room.

“There she is.” Her boss, Mr. Sebastian, stood at the head of the long gleaming oak table and held his hand out.

Rick came up behind her as she shook her boss’ hand.

“Excellent work in finding those errors.” Mr. Sebastian guided her to a large buffet table set up in the back.

“They weren’t errors.” Rick followed them. “They were estimates.”

Mr. Sebastian motioned for Rick to come over and then looked between him and Lindsay. “Here’s the deal.” He lowered his voice. “Estimates are fine, creativity is fine, making the account happy is doubly fine, but we need to back it up …anyway we have to.” He smiled.

From the corner of her eye Lindsay watched that odd crooked grin cross Rick’s face.

Her boss pointed at Rick. “You get to be the creative one.” Then pointed at her. “Lindsay gets to be the technical one.”

A sickening shiver shot down her spine. “Technical?” As in doctor the books?

Mr. Sebastian and Rick chuckled. “Let’s get some lunch before we start. Also, we’ll be taking a trip to San Francisco next week to do some expert closing. We leave Sunday so give any flight preferences to my secretary.” With that, he took a plate.

She pulled on her lower lip and stared at the black marble floor, wishing it were maroon and black squares.