Waking Up To Love (Lakeside Porches Book 4) (29 page)

A violent shiver shook Lyssa’s slender body and her gaze dropped in defeat.

She’s not dressed for this blasted cold wind
.

Her forehead creased with pain, but when Kyle stepped closer and touched her arm, her eyes opened wide with fear and she jerked away from him.

“Lyssa.” He moaned with regret. “I only meant to offer you warmth.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, and she brushed at them angrily. “What is this about, Kyle? I get that you don’t trust me, which frankly pisses me off. I get that you’re jealous of any time I spend with Rand, though god knows you don’t need to be. I hate every minute I have to spend with him. If you’ve got a point here, I wish you’d get to it. I’m freezing.”

He softened his voice. “Since I can’t possibly botch this any worse than I already have, my point is I went to the concert to keep an eye on you, and you were nowhere to be found.”

“You what? Why?” Lyssa yelled as she waved her arms. “Why don’t you believe me when I say I hate the whole business of going anywhere with Rand?”

“I hate it, too, and, besides being jealous, which I admit, I worry about you, which is why I went to the concert looking for you.”

Her mouth opened and closed. Her gaze shifted to the wind-tossed waves as though she might find an answer in the turmoil. “Why would you do that?”

“Is it so inconceivable?”

She shook her head. “Can you just explain it in ten words or less? I’m totally confused.”

“Remember how worried you were when Rand slashed my tires?” Her curls bobbed as she nodded. “Remember how worried I was when you came back from your soaring expedition in the back of a police cruiser with a nasty bruise on your head?”

She looked intently at her boots.

“I’m sorry that was more than ten words. Did it help?”

She nodded. “So you went looking for me?” Her voice broke, and tears splashed onto the gravel. She dragged one boot backward and tapped the toe on the gravel path until the tears abated.

“Exactly. I went looking for you.” A hollow laugh escaped him. “And in doing so, risked being found out and embarrassed within an inch of my life.”

“Thank you.”

“For . . .”

“Wanting to protect me.”

“Are you angry about that?”

She lifted her face and shook her head. He fumbled in his pockets for a handkerchief and pressed it into her hand.

She mumbled her thanks and blotted her eyes. “How was the concert?” she asked.

“Brilliant, actually.”

Her mouth twitched.
Is that a smile?

“Are those the boots Padraig cleaned for you after our last cliff walk?”

“Yes, he did an awesome job.” She lifted one foot to show off the boot. He admired her long, slender leg and wished he could do more than admire. Someplace warm.

“He always does. He’s has loads of practice with my loafers.”

Her sapphire eyes burned into his. “When you didn’t see me at the concert, what did you think?”

He licked his lips. “I thought you’d lied. I’m afraid it raised all kinds of questions about our relationship.”

She blinked against the wind that pummeled them. He wanted to bundle her into a warm hug and take her somewhere for breakfast, but she’d taken another step away from him.

“And now?” she asked him, her voice steady.

“And now, what?”

“What questions do you have about our relationship?” Her intense blue gaze fixed on his face.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure I have any more. I rather think Rand manipulated the whole thing to make sure you wouldn’t be where you said you would. That way I’d look the fool if I tried to follow you. Which I did.”

“And we would have a big row over it, if you questioned me. Which we did.”

“You implored me weeks ago to be smarter than him, and last night I failed to do that. My emotions led me right into his trap.” He looked past her shoulder to the parking lot. “Perhaps he’s sitting in his car watching at this very minute.” The lot was empty except for his own car and a Volkswagen.

Lyssa’s face softened, and a smile spread from her mouth to her eyes. Before he knew what was happening, she’d locked her arms around his shoulders and teased his mouth with her lips.

He kissed her deeply and squeezed her shapely behind with loving hands. In public.

“Thanks, Haley,” Lyssa said as their waitress delivered a steaming omelet and a buttered bagel.

“Shall I bring more coffee?”

“Yes, grand,” Kyle said.

When their omelets were half gone, he asked Lyssa, “Have you noticed in the last half hour we are communicating better?”

“I was thinking that, too, and kicking myself. Until today, I haven’t wanted to act intelligent in conversation with you, because girls are not supposed to be smart. Charming and funny, yes. Smart, no. Something about that crying jag in the park broke me out of that stupid, old . . .”

“Actually, you acted smart when we had dinner at the Manse and I asked about the Seneca Street house.”

“That was easier, because you were my client then, not my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

She looked at him with teasing, blue eyes. “You usually walk on eggshells with me. Why is that?”

“I’m afraid of making you cry.” He chuckled and set down his half-eaten bagel. “I regret that. But I don’t understand why you cried about my coming after you when I was worried about your safety.”

Lyssa set down her fork. The warm, happy feeling in her belly made her smile. “No one’s ever cared about my safety that way. It meant a lot to me. I’ve always known you were caring and decent, but I never imagined you would follow me to make sure I was okay.”

“I almost didn’t, because I was afraid you would think I was checking up on you. Which, of course, you did think. I wasn’t spying, luv.”

She laughed. “Much.” She nudged his foot and he smiled.

“So your dance performance was great, and, in fact . . . Please finish what you broke off telling me.”

Lyssa sipped her coffee and thought back to what she’d said. “In fact, afterwards, Brad suggested the four of us go together to the play on Broadway.” At Kyle’s puzzled look, she said, “Apparently Garth Fagan was the choreographer for
The Lion King
. Have you seen it?”

“Yes, in Toronto a few years back. Fantastic show.”

“Rand has committed to scoring four tickets, and I was swept up in the moment and agreed it was a great idea for the four of us to go together.”

Kyle poked at his omelet with his fork. “Do you want to go with them?”

“No, but the better question is, ‘Is there anything to be gained?’ I don’t think I learned anything new last night, except that Brad is easily manipulated by Rand.”

“Aren’t you out of the spy business, thanks to Miriam?”

She forked another bite of omelet, chewed, and swallowed. “Suppose Rand is doing something that could hurt the college?”

“Then we should find out. Justin is trying to make a go of the college, and we’re committed to supporting him in that.”

“But Justin only asked us to identify who was exploiting the network and how and why.”

Kyle sat back. “Well, I want to be included, if you’re intent on going to New York with them. Given Rand’s track record, I don’t want you to be hurt again.”

“Maybe I don’t need to go. Both Rand and Brad are behaving themselves on your network.”

“Yes, but Rand has been known to leave the odd joint on Joel’s lawn and, more important, to carry mysterious brown packages in the boot of his sports car. You thought the package was drugs, probably delivered from Tully, but we don’t know where the drugs ended up, if that’s what was in the package. “

“No, we don’t. Nor do we know what kind of drugs.”

“Exactly. Was it pot for Rand’s personal use? If so, I don’t care. Is he dealing drugs? Transporting them? Both?” Kyle asked

“He might transport something to or from New York on this trip, Kyle. He does go back and forth to Manhattan and the Hamptons fairly often, at least once a month.”

“What would you do if you caught him in a drug transaction?” Kyle asked her.

“Probably run the other way.”

“Why? Why not blow the whistle?”

“You think I should?”

“I want to know what you think, luv.”

Lyssa eased her plate aside and sat forward. “Honestly, I
am
concerned about the drugs. If Rand is a dealer of some kind, and he involves our students who are young adults, many of them minors, I can’t condone it. But is it really my job to find that out and expose him? No, it’s not. Still, it worries me.”

“You’re conflicted?”

“I’m conflicted. Having seen the brown package in the boot of his car, I want to know what he’s up to. It’s more than curiosity. It’s sort of a moral compulsion.”

“I want to know, too, out of loyalty to Justin. And I think I’ve just worked out how we can turn the tables on any intention he has of cornering you in a hotel room or involving you in something illegal.”

“I’m feeling the private jet.” Bethany waved her champagne flute and clinked it against Brad’s.

Lyssa smiled at them, though they didn’t notice. With a sigh, she turned to the pilot. “It’s a shame Rand couldn’t fly down with us. Did he say why?”

“He took the train yesterday, something about spending time with his sisters.”

“Pris and Chrissie?” Lyssa chuckled as the names rolled off her tongue.

The pilot nodded and made quick eye contact. She gave him a smile. From his erect bearing, Lyssa thought he might be retired military.

She pressed her advantage. “What’s your name?”

“Arnie. Is Lyssa short for something?”

“Nope, that’s my whole name. It’s cool that Rand’s so close to his family.”

“Well, to his sisters, yes. His parents won’t give him the time of day.”

That’s a surprise
. Where was he getting the money to live as well as he did? The loft, the expensive clothes, the car? His salary at Tompkins College couldn’t support all that.

She thought if she faked it he’d tell her more. “I know, right? It’s really awful. I never understood it.”

Arnie shrugged. “Bert and Regina want the family to stick together in their business.”

“But Rand’s so gifted as a poet and professor.” That genuinely puzzled her. Why would parents oppose a child’s true calling?

“They think that’s garbage. They educated him in communications to play a key role in their PR firm. Can’t blame them after all that tuition—private schools, college, and the Ph.D. from Yale.”

“I suppose.” She’d never guessed any of this. Rand’s cleverness and his way with words would certainly have been an asset to a public relations firm. “Then how is he able to use the corporate jet to fly us to New York?”

“Those two sisters really love their big brother. It bothers them that he’s been cut off, and they’ll do anything to make it up to him.”

Cut off, as in no share of the family fortune? He’s definitely supplementing his income somehow.

“He goes back and forth to New York a lot, I know.”

“And to the Hamptons, taking care of his own business. He’d rather not risk public transportation when he’s . . .” Arnie stopped.

His business?
Lyssa was glad Arnie couldn’t see her face.
Was
Rand transporting drugs on those trips?
Until now, Lyssa hadn’t seriously thought the package she’d seen in the Miata’s trunk at the apple orchard was anything more than pot for his own use. But she hadn’t known then that his big spending wasn’t covered by the family fortune. Panic formed in her chest.

She felt Arnie’s gaze on her. “You don’t know anything about that, do you?” he asked.

She shook her head.

The fear must have shown in her eyes, because he added, “Lyssa, you’re a nice girl, maybe too nice for Rand. You want to take care of yourself this weekend.”

A booming pop brought Lyssa to her feet.

Arnie scrutinized his instruments before they both looked behind them.

“That was a loud one.” Brad held up a freshly opened bottle of champagne that foamed over in his hand.

Chapter 10

Rand had said he’d “be with his people” all day and would meet Lyssa, Brad, and Bethany at his favorite restaurant in the theater district, two hours before the show. Lyssa had originally thought that meant he’d be spending time with Pris and Chrissie. However, after Arnie’s disclosure, she thought he might be doing business with his drug connections.

She shivered and clutched her coat and hood tight as she hustled from the bus stop, across Lincoln Center plaza, toward the Metropolitan Opera House. She’d worry about Rand when the time came. For now, she had much more pleasant things to do.

With Kyle.

His proposal was simple: he’d fly to New York the same day she did and see a client for lunch. He’d get a room at the Omni, meet Lyssa at the opera for a matinee, and be available that night, in case she needed backup. In her heart, she loved having him nearby and wished she could weasel out of the foursome and spend the night with Kyle, regardless.

But she was sharing a room with Bethany, and there was no way to gracefully get out of it. She’d been relieved when Bethany had asked no questions about her decision “to window shop all afternoon.” Apparently, Bethany and Brad had plans of their own.

Out of the wind in the lobby of the Met, Lyssa swept off her hood. She blinked in disbelief. The swirling white staircase and red-carpeted walkways of the famous opera house dazzled her. A woman passing by on the arm of a well-dressed gentleman caught her eye and smiled. “First time here?” she asked.

Lyssa nodded, glad she’d worn sharp black pants and a glittery top.

She scanned the space for Kyle but didn’t see him in the sea of people. He’d said he’d meet her near the box office. “Excuse me,” she said to a young man who seemed to be watching for someone himself, “where would I find the box office?”

He pointed across the lobby.

No Kyle. After ten minutes and a thousand glances at her phone, she took her place in line, hoping the box office would have a ticket for her. When it was her turn, she said, “Yes, I’m meeting Kyle Pennington here. Do you—”

“Your tickets, madam, and a note. Next, please.”

Lyssa thanked her and took the envelope. She sank down on a nearby bench and opened the note. Apparently dictated, as it was typed on MET notepaper and unsigned, it said, ‘Sorry, emergency at home. Will call you. Omni Berkshire Place is expecting you. Enjoy the performance. Kyle.’

Stunned, she checked her phone. No texts, no voicemails, no emails from Kyle. Was he wrapped up in conversation with his IT department? Or with Justin? Had he actually flown back to Tompkins Falls?

Chimes and dimming lights interrupted her thoughts. A black-and-white clad usher directed her to the third level. After flowing up two flights in the company of beautifully coifed women and richly dressed men, she followed another usher to her front-row seat on the aisle. She placed her coat and gloves on the empty chair next to hers.
Kyle’s seat
. She fished in her purse for a tissue to stop her tears. Probably Rand and his buddies had manufactured some network disaster to keep Kyle in Tompkins Falls.
The nerve.

She stewed through the first act, but by its end she had conjured up scenarios that went beyond devious behavior on Rand’s part. Had something happened to Justin or Gianessa or one of the twins? Kyle would certainly put their welfare ahead of his plan with her, especially since he’d already arranged a hotel for her to escape to if she needed it.

As the lights came up for intermission, she threaded through the crowd, down to the lobby, and checked her messages.

Nothing from Kyle. Nothing from the Cushmans. She called Gianessa. Kyle had not contacted her, and she’d just talked with Justin. All was quiet at the college.

In a fog, she backed into a young woman and apologized. The woman graciously asked if she was enjoying the performance. “Yes, and you?” The woman nodded and turned back to her private conversation.

In truth, Lyssa couldn’t recall anything of the performance, even the name of the opera.

She vowed to do better. As the lights came up after the final curtain call, it occurred to her the hotel might know something more about Kyle’s whereabouts or his emergency. She buttoned up and flowed with the crowd down to the lobby and out across the plaza.

The smartly-dressed man at the Omni’s reception desk told her, “Yes, madam. Your husband checked in early, shortly before noon, and left again, with his bag around one o’clock.”

Husband?
She kept her cool. At a hotel like this, he probably had to say they were a married couple if they were to stay in the same room.

“‘Bit of an emergency at home,’ was all he said. He told us he would make every effort to contact you, but that you might be here overnight, or even longer, pending travel arrangements.”

Travel arrangements?

“Your key, madam. Do you need help with your bags?” He looked down his nose at the empty space around her legs.

She’d left her carry-on bag at the hotel Rand had arranged closer to their theater. “It’s, uh, no, thanks. He didn’t say where he was going?” The envelope held only a key card.

“No, madam, but as I say he took his bag when he left.”

Lyssa stood gripping the envelope.

“You’re both British, are you?” he inquired, his gaze on her ringless left hand.

“We met in London.” The envelope said ‘723.’ “This would be on the seventh floor?”

“Yes, madam. Enjoy your stay at the Omni.”

The room welcomed her with Kyle’s cologne. Cypress and ginger and something musky. Although there was no sign of him, she stood still and let the scent wrap itself around her.

Where are you, Kyle?
She examined every surface, every drawer, for a note, but there was none.

The decor was definitely Kyle’s taste—contemporary, uncluttered, and luxurious. He probably stayed here whenever he was in New York on business. She wondered if he’d actually met the client for lunch or if that had been canceled as well.

He’d left with his bag, the receptionist had said.
He’s not coming back
. She rejected a fleeting sense of abandonment. Kyle wouldn’t leave her stranded for no reason.

Something serious had taken him away. If he hadn’t called, texted, or emailed in the four hours that had elapsed, it was because he was on a flight. A long one.

She scrolled through her contacts for Kyle’s office number in London. She gave her name to the receptionist and, immediately, Geoffrey came on the line. It surprised her to have name recognition paired with priority treatment. She asked if Kyle was on his way back for an emergency at the company.

“No, nothing shaking with the business.” He chuckled. “Kyle is known for long stretches of silence while he races to a problem and solves it in his head on the way. You’ll hear from him. Keep your phone on if you can. Jolly nice talking with you, Lyssa.” And he broke the connection.

That left Padstow.
God, help me out here
.

She pressed the number for Pennington House. There was no answer, even after twelve rings.
This isn’t good
.

She tried Kyle’s number again and got his voicemail. “Kyle, I’m at the Omni. Thank you for the room. I don’t know what’s happened to call you away, but I’m praying for you, and I’m guessing you’re en route to Padstow. I hope your mum’s okay. Please let me know what I can do to help. Be safe, be well.”

It was time to dress for dinner and the show. Reluctantly, she returned to lobby and asked for a cab.

A heater blasted in the front entrance to the upscale bistro. Lyssa stopped to remove her coat. There was no immediate sign of Rand, Brad, and Bethany. As she ventured into the maze of tables, waiters crisscrossed her path, bearing trays of sizzling entrees that made her salivate.

A woman in a vibrant green bandage dress jumped up from the far corner and waved her arms.
Bethany, you have to be freezing
. Lyssa gave her a big smile and a finger wave as she plotted her course through the packed tables.

Rand grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug and then, as he settled her in the chair between Bethany and himself, ogled the swell of her breasts in the low-cut dress. She’d packed her go-to-theater black dress, which she’d gotten in London the summer before last. It was one of the few dressy dresses she had, and she’d regarded its mid-calf length as a guarantee that Rand would not grope her bare thigh through the performance.

She answered the question about her day with a vague statement about how cold it had been walking and a comment about the glittering matinee crowd she’d spotted at Lincoln Center. Brad and Bethany both blushed when Lyssa asked about their afternoon, and Rand changed the subject when it was his turn.

Lovely that we’re all operating in secret
. To break the silence, she complimented Rand on his choice of restaurant. A waiter appeared, and she ordered a low-fat vanilla latte.

Rand and Brad struck up their own conversation about college politics. Bethany monopolized Lyssa’s attention with her plans for her upcoming bridal shower and for the wedding. “June twenty-sixth,” she informed Lyssa. “Plan on coming to New Jersey for the whole weekend.”

“Wait, how did I miss the engagement? When did all this happen?”

Bethany’s loud, merry laugh turned heads. Brad and Rand paused for ten seconds, while Brad’s gaze swept hungrily over his fiancée and then glared at any man that looked her way.

“Just last weekend,” Bethany said. “We chose the diamond and setting this afternoon at Tiffany’s. I can’t tell you how much I love it!”

“Every happiness, Bethany.” Lyssa gave her a girly hug. “And you’ve got a shower planned already? And wedding plans underway?”

“Well, you know what they say. If you and your fiancé can plan a wedding together and survive it, you’re ready for marriage. I’m not leaving anything to chance.”

“Tell me everything.”

The details blurred, but Lyssa welcomed the distraction from worry about Kyle and his emergency. She offered her opinion about four versus seven bridesmaids, flowers or tiara in her hair, candlelight silk or ivory tulle.

As Bethany talked through her checklist and how she would arrive at each decision, Lyssa fantasized about her own wedding. Someday. Not to Rand, although, judging by his ever-present hand on her bare arm, he still seemed to think so.

She had really enjoyed Manda and Joel’s wedding—a small ceremony in the rose garden at the Manse, followed by a big, sober celebration in one of the Manse function rooms. She and Kyle didn’t know many people in Tompkins Falls, so it could be a very small affair. Perhaps they should be married in Padstow so his mum could enjoy the festivities.
Wait. Have I decided to marry Kyle?

And why does my head hurt?
Her forehead had creased with pain in the last minute. She tuned out Bethany and tuned into the source of the headache.
Kyle’s mum
. Her heart hammered with certainty that Kyle’s emergency was about his mum’s health. She couldn’t bear to lose Mum, and Kyle would be devastated.

She glanced at her phone. Still nothing from Kyle. Nor from the Cushmans.
I should be with him
.

She toyed with a bite of her grilled snapper as Bethany continued her monologue about wedding details. Shouldn’t wedding decisions be mutual? There was so much she and Kyle had still not talked about, like children and where they’d live.
How can Kyle be so sure about marriage?

“Earth to Lyssa.” Bethany’s voice called her back to the present.

“What?” Lyssa felt her cheeks heat. “Sorry, what did I miss?”

The waiter gave her a patient smile, though his eye twitched. “Are you having dessert tonight, miss?”

“Coffee, please. Unless everyone else is passing.” She nodded to the waiter to take her plate and was surprised to see she’d eaten half the fish and all the vegetables.

“Are you kidding?” Brad said. “Rand and I have ordered three cheesecakes between us.”

“We might let you ladies have a piece,” Rand said with a wink.

“If we can have a piece in return.” Brad guffawed at his own cleverness.

“Of whatever you want.” Rand squeezed her thigh, and Lyssa removed his hand.

“We have our own comedy team, Bethany,” she said.

“But we love them, even when they’re sixteen, right?”

The waiter shifted on his feet, his gaze fixed on his pad. “So that’s one Turtle Cheesecake, one Cherry, and one Chocolate Decadence. Four coffees. All decaf?”

“My coffee is regular, please,” Lyssa answered.

“Three decaf, one regular. Anything else for you folks?”

“We’re good,” Rand told him.

Lyssa excused herself and made for the ladies room. In the relative quiet, she placed a call to Gianessa. “Have you and Justin heard from Kyle?”

“Nothing. He hasn’t turned up?”

“No. All I know is that he was called away on an emergency at home. He’s been out of reach for hours. Five or six now. I’m afraid something’s happened with his mum. No one’s answering at Pennington House. Rand and I are off to the show with Brad and Bethany in a few minutes, and my phone will be silent for a few hours. I really should be with Kyle. If you hear anything, Gianessa, please leave me a voicemail. I’ll check at intermission.”

“Lyssa!” Gianessa said sharply.

“What?”

“Breathe! You just set a record for the longest string of sentences without a breath.”

“I forgot about breathing. Thank you.” She exhaled a laugh.

“That’s better. But, Lyssa, you’re an alcoholic and addict, and you’re under stress.
This
is not the time to forget basics. Like breathing. And praying. They’ll save your butt.”

“I forgot praying, too.”