When Love Calls (7 page)

“Do what?”

Slowly she raised her hand over his desk blotter. First one coin and then the other fell with a ping, rolled in a circle, and came to a rest.

Lightning fast, he snatched up the coins and rounded his desk. “I am not accepting these.” He grabbed her wrist and shoved the coins back in her hand.

“Yes you are!”

Laughter from his officemate tickled his ears, and his face heated. The pulse in his jaw thrummed. He leaned closer to her and forced the words to come out calm. “Let’s talk about this in private.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, I am. You can stand here all day if you want.” With that, he headed out of the office and toward the elevator, praying she’d follow. What if she stayed in the office and made a scene?

After reaching the elevator, he punched the button and forced himself not to turn around to see if Hannah was behind him. His patience was rewarded when he heard the telltale click of her
pounding heels on the hardwood floor, and from the speed of the clicks, he guessed her anger still ran red-hot.

The elevator rumbled to a stop, and Mr. Welch, the white-haired elevator operator, pulled open the wire-cage door. Lincoln motioned toward the entrance, and Hannah marched inside. He followed.

“Where can I take you, Mr. Cole?” Mr. Welch asked.

“First floor, please. We’re going for a walk.”

Hannah shot him a fiery glare.

Mr. Welch chuckled and shoved the brass lever to the side. “Pardon my saying, but the lady doesn’t look like she cares for your idea.”

Hannah crossed her arms over her chest as if to punctuate her agreement with Mr. Welch’s observation. Lincoln grinned and counted the floors of the office building as they descended.

Nine, eight, seven. Ramrod straight, Hannah pressed her back against the wall. What was she thinking? As an attorney, he’d been trained to anticipate the enemy’s next move, but she wasn’t an easy woman to read.

Five, four. He chuckled. Even as clearly irate as she was, he found it hard to think of her as the enemy. Still, he was willing to bet a week’s worth of paperwork that she was preparing to deliver an earful of ugliness at her earliest convenience. Well, if she wanted a fight . . .

Three, two. The elevator jolted and came to a halt. Caught off balance, Hannah stumbled into him. Lincoln caught her, and her cheeks filled with color.

“Hmm.” Mr. Welch rubbed his beard. “Looks like she’s warming up to you already, Mr. Cole.”

 9 

Despite Hannah’s best efforts to break free without causing a scene, Lincoln Cole kept hold of her elbow and directed her out of the building. He didn’t slow at the sidewalk but led her across the paved brick street to the green space of Court House Square.

“Unhand me.”

He yanked his hand away as if he didn’t realize he’d still been holding on to her. “I apologize.”

“Now, if you’ll kindly take this”—she held out the money again—“I can be on my way.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you I’m not accepting that. Those groceries were a gift.”

“It’s not appropriate for me to accept a gift from you.” Even though she’d planned this moment for days, it was not going the way she wanted.

He hiked a shoulder. “Well, they weren’t for you. They were for Tessa. Is it wrong to give a gift to a starving orphan?”

“I would never let my sister starve!”

“That’s not how she makes it sound.” He straightened his tie.

Had Tessa truly told him that? She was going to give her sister a thorough tongue-lashing for her tall tales as soon as she got this infuriating man to accept her payment. “Tessa is melodramatic. She makes everything sound like it’s the end of the world.”

“That may be, but I was doing my Christian duty. The Scriptures say taking care of widows and orphans is pure and undefiled religion. So if you have a problem with it, you’ll have to take it up with God.”

Oh, he knew he had her, and it irked her to the very soles of her feet. Why couldn’t he understand she didn’t want anyone’s help, but especially his?

She took a deep, cleansing breath and glanced around the open area. Some businesses closed early on Fridays, so the streets already bustled with activity.

The streetcar jingled its bell as it approached. It stopped at the corner, and the passengers hurried off. Mrs. Reuff, the supervisor of the operators’ school, stepped from the streetcar bearing a package. Hannah’s breath caught. What was the instructor doing here? Apparently, mailing a package, as the post office was in the Federal Building. But what if she spotted Hannah?

“Hannah, is something wrong?”

She turned away from the streetcar. “I can’t be seen with you.”

“Why not?”

“See that woman over there in the big peach hat? It’s Mrs. Reuff, one of the instructors at my operators’ school.” Hannah glanced back at Mrs. Reuff.

“And?”

“The operators’ school has rules about gentleman acquaintances.” She held out her hand. “Please, take this so I can go home. I can’t afford to jeopardize my position.”

“Mrs. Reuff can’t say anything if you’re consulting your attorney.”

“But you’re not my—”

He inclined his head toward the approaching instructor. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

A few minutes later, Mr. Cole had secured a table near the window at one of the small restaurants on Mulberry Street. He signaled the waitress and ordered them each a cup of coffee.

“I shouldn’t be here, Mr. Cole.” She sipped from her porcelain cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air, and she
wondered if a pie had recently come out of the oven. Her mouth watered at the thought.

Two businessmen at the window table behind them must have had the same idea and called the waitress over to add to their order. Mr. Cole did likewise.

“I don’t need any pie, Mr. Cole.”

“Please call me Lincoln.” He peeked over his own cup. “Remember, that’s my name.”

“If Mrs. Reuff sees us—”

He set the cup down. “Then you’ll explain we were dealing with matters of your parents’ estate.”

“But we aren’t.”

“Did your parents have any life insurance?”

“You know they didn’t.” She pressed her cold hands to the sides of the warm cup.

“See? We’ve already addressed one facet of the estate.” His blue-gray eyes flickered as though he were pleased with his own subterfuge.

“Does lying always come so easily to you?”

His scowl made her regret the sharpness in her words. “No. In fact, honesty is a trait I greatly admire. And as long as we’re on the subject, why don’t we start with you telling me the truth about why you came to see me today?”

“I came to pay you back for the groceries.”

“But that’s not why
you
personally came when you could have easily mailed me the money and saved yourself the trip.”

“But . . . I . . . It didn’t seem proper to mail it.”

His brows peaked. “You know what I think? I think you wanted to see me again.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Her face and neck grew warm, and she gathered her handbag and stood. “This is strictly business, Mr. Cole. I apologize for entering your office in such a—”

“A huff?”

“No, I was going to say for entering your office in such a way
that I drew attention to your nap.” She slapped her napkin beside her plate. “Next week, I can assure you I’ll mail the money.”

Lincoln heard glass shatter behind him, and Hannah screamed. He grabbed her waist, pulled her to the floor, and covered her body with his own. A second window splintered, and shards rained around them.

“Hannah?” He rolled off her and reached for her arm. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

She sat up and brushed herself off. “No. I’m fine. What about the others?”

He looked around. The two businessmen were being aided by the waitress but seemed mostly unharmed. He carefully drew Hannah to her feet and studied her.

“Lincoln, you’re bleeding.”

“So are you.” A long, thin scratch marred her pale cheek. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the blood. He’d deal with his own wound later.

“What happened?” Hannah looked around the scene.

Lincoln pointed to two bricks lying on the floor with notes tied to them. “I think someone threw those and broke the windows, and apparently, they were sending a message.”

“To whom?”

He picked up one of the bricks and removed the note. He turned to the other restaurant patrons. “Are any of you with the telegraph company?”

The two men who’d been at the other window nodded.

“Then this special delivery is for you.” He offered them the notes.

“Lincoln, what are you talking about?”

He led her toward the door, glass crunching under their feet. “Apparently, this whole mess is due to a union problem.”

“Someone from the telegraph company smashed the windows?”

“According to that note, yes.”

All color seemed to wash from her face, and she swayed.

He steadied her. “Are you all right?”

“I need to get home.”

“As soon as we speak to the police, I’ll get a hansom cab and take you home.” They stepped outside onto the sidewalk, and he watched her scan the crowd.

Who was she looking for? Her instructor? A prickly feeling inched up his spine. Or was it someone else?

Hannah’s sisters would be worried sick by now. She sat in a hansom cab beside Lincoln with the sunlight rapidly fading. She should’ve been home over two hours ago, but by the time they’d bandaged Lincoln’s arm and spoken to the police, her hopes of getting home early had shattered like the restaurant’s windows.

“You sure you’re not hurt? I tackled you pretty hard.” Lincoln touched her arm.

“I’m fine.” But she’d be sore tomorrow. “I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“You make it sound so painful.” His blue eyes teased her.

“Every time I’m sure I want nothing to do with you, you do something nice and almost convince me otherwise.”

“Almost?”

She didn’t answer. Kindness oozed from Lincoln, but he had taken their farm. Did he expect her to forget that? “Can you ask the cab to stop here?”

“But we’re nearly three blocks away.”

“Getting out now is for the best. I can’t risk being seen with you escorting me home.”

He informed the driver, and she adjusted her hat. “Any more glass shards?”

Gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head to one side and then the other. “You look perfect.” He brushed over the scratch with the pad of his thumb. “Except for this.”

The cab stopped, and Lincoln helped her out. “I’d feel better walking you all the way home.”

She held up her hand. “Thank you for the offer, but you can’t.” She dipped her head in a brief nod and began to walk away.

“Hannah,” Lincoln called, “if you need anything, anything at all—”

“Thanks, but I won’t.” She flipped up her hand without turning around. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”