Light from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 3) (29 page)

“You
aren’t eating,” he noticed.

“Too
excited,” she said, but she lifted the bread and nibbled its edge. “No one’s
ever surprised me with a river-raft breakfast before. And certainly not a sexy
bad-ass biker such as yourself.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows, thrilled
to see him looking embarrassed again.

“You
know if word gets out about this, it will totally destroy my tough-guy image,”
he pretended to scowl.

“Then
far be it from me to shatter the illusion! Besides, I don’t see anyone else
around here to witness the sight, so I think your secret is safe.”

“No
one’s around, because the park is closed.”

“What?
No, it’s not. It’s opened until dark.”

Travis’s
dark eyes sparkled. “By special request of a certain Ranger Lieutenant, the
park is most definitely closed for the next hour.”

“Wh-why
would you do that?” she whispered. No wonder Kate had insisted she be there
promptly at nine; she had known about Travis’s plans!

“Because
I didn’t want us to be interrupted. We hardly have any time together as it is.
I wanted at least one hour without any distractions or any phone calls or any
stray teenagers coming by.”

Kenzie
laughed at his reference to their last visit to the park. “That was rather
embarrassing, being caught by teenagers. It’s usually the other way around!”

“Not
this morning. It’s just you and me, darlin’.” The way he said it, his voice so
deep and intimate, Kenzie felt delicious shivers run along her spine and stir
low in her belly. 

They
chatted casually as they ate their breakfast, an art form they were still
learning to perfect. Since most of their conversations usually dealt with heavy
subject matter and more often than not ended in argument, mellow discussion was
still new to them. But this morning was too gloriously beautiful and bright to
tolerate any bickering, and neither of them was willing to sacrifice this
special opportunity by fighting.

When
she caught Travis glancing at his watch, Kenzie groaned in dread. “Our hour is
almost up, isn’t it?”

“Almost,
but it’s not like a swarm of people are going to suddenly converge upon us,” he
assured her.

“Still,
there was something special about knowing we were the only two people out
here,” she sighed wistfully, a dreamy expression on her face. “And it was
definitely romantic.”

“Remember
this moment in years to come, when you complain I don’t have a romantic bone in
my body.”

“You
took me to my first carnival and won me a cheap stuffed animal. I know exactly
how romantic you can be.”

“Oddly
enough, I think you’re serious,” he muttered, but his eyes glowed with
satisfaction.

“Oh,
I’m very serious, Ranger.” Her green eyes had the shimmer to prove it.

As
the air charged around them, Travis reached for her hand. “I have to be honest
with you. I had an ulterior motive for luring you out here for a romantic
breakfast.”

Her
heart quickened, but she tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh?”

“Kenzie,
I know your father’s supposed death has given you a sense of freedom. We’ve
dropped the security detail and you can come and go without an escort.”

“And
it’s been very nice. But what does that have to do with this?”

“I
know how you feel about WITSEC. I know you’ve already changed your name over a
dozen times and lived in just as many places. I know you swore you’d never do
it again.”

Kenzie
snatched her hand from his. “And I won’t,” she insisted sharply. “I have no
idea what you’re up to, why you think I still need to go into the witness
protection program, but my answer is the same as always. No. Absolutely not. I
refuse to change my name again. I refuse to move. I can’t believe you would
even ask me that, knowing how I feel about the subject!” She huffed the last
out indignantly, crossing her arms beneath her heaving breasts and staring at
him with a cold glare.

“I
was hoping I could change your mind,” he admitted, pushing back his chair. He
made his way back around the table, crowding beside her in the limited space.

Tears
pricked her eyelids. He was cheating on such a grand scale, but she was more
than merely disappointed in his tactics; she felt betrayed. He knew how
important her independence was to her, he knew exactly how she felt about
changing identities again. It hurt that he would even ask again, especially now
that the danger was at a minimum.

“How
could you?” she said in a hurt voice, refusing to meet his eyes, even when he
dropped to his knee in front of her.

“I
know how you feel about changing your name.” His voice was gentle, and oddly
thick. Kenzie turned her gaze to meet his eyes. She was surprised to see the
tender light shining in their dark depths as he reached out to brush the backs
of his fingers along her cheek. “That’s why I thought maybe- maybe we would
only change your last name this time.”

“Last
name?” she asked in confusion.

“Yes.
I think Kenzie Merka has a nice ring to it, don’t you?” His voice was deep and
rich, like warm chocolate. She suddenly realized that he knelt down on one knee.
His brown eyes held a glow she had never seen before. The air caught and held
in her chest, as her heart began to clamor.

“Kenzie
Merka?” she chirped. Rational thought was impossible. Speech was no more
promising. She was reduced to nothing more than repeating his words back to
him.

Travis
chuckled, the sound filling even the tiniest crevices of her soul. “I know you
say you’ll never move away from Austin. But I can’t get a transfer for at least
a year, and I really don’t think I can live without you that long. So would you
consider just
staying
in Nacogdoches?” He saw the frown crease her brow
and went on quickly, “We could keep your apartment and go back for holidays and
vacations. Technically you would still live there, even if you spent most of
your time with me in Nacogdoches.”

“Ch-Cheating,”
she managed to whisper.

Travis
sighed. “I know. I know I’m cheating. But I thought I might could sway you with
this grand romantic gesture. That, and with my biker outfit. You seemed to like
it so much. But if those aren’t working, I have one final trick up my sleeve.
One last attempt at cheating my way into your life.”

She
raised questioning eyes to his, still too overwhelmed to speak.

Travis
reached into the pocket of his leather vest and pulled out a simple diamond
ring that dangled from a pink ribbon. “I have my Gannie’s wedding ring. I have
no idea if it will fit, or if you would even want to wear it. It’s been used,
after all. But it was used for over forty years of love and faithfulness, and I
think it’s got another sixty or so years left in it. I want you to wear it,
Kenzie. I want you to be my wife. I told you before, you are my heart and my
soul.”

When
she made no protest, he slipped the ribbon over her neck. His hands trembled
slightly as he cupped her face in his big, strong palms and looked into her
eyes. “What I didn’t say before, but what I’m saying now, is that I love you,
Kenzie Reese. I want to spend my life with you. So I’m asking you one more
time. Would you consider changing your name, one final time? I want you to be
Mrs. Travis Merka.”

Tears
slipped from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. Still speechless, she could
only nod. She threw her arms around him and sobbed against his neck.

“Why
are you crying, darlin’?” he asked softly, but his own eyes were less than dry.

“Yes!”
In delayed reaction, the word burst from her mouth at last. “Yes, I’ll marry
you!”

Travis
chuckled again. She marveled at the thought that registered somewhere on her
deliriously happy mind; twice now he had chuckled, and in such a short amount
of time. He crushed her close against him, feeling her tears wet the side of
his face and neck. “Don’t cry, darlin’. You’re supposed to be happy. This is
supposed to be the first happiest day of our life.”

“It
is! I am! I’m happy, happy, happy!” she insisted. She pulled back so he could
see her beaming face. “I love you, Travis! I love you so much and I’m going to
make you a terrific wife!” She made her promise with a quick peck on his lips,
then pulled away to keep talking. “And I don’t care where we live.” Another
peck. “I’ll move.” Still another. “I know now how foolish I was to say I’d
never leave Austin.” She kissed him again quickly. “I’ll follow you wherever
you go.” Another kiss before she said, “I’ll even change-”

Before
she could finish her thought, Travis was pulling her close. “This is the first
time I’ve told a woman I loved her since I was seventeen and too foolish to
know any better,” he grumbled against her mouth. “I sure never proposed before.
Somehow I thought there would be more kissin’ and less talkin’.”

“I’m
no expert at this either, you know.”

“Well,
I liked it better when you were too shocked to speak. It was easier to kiss you
that way.”

“Then
by all means, Ranger, let me shut up so you can kiss me.” Kenzie wound her arms
around his waist and pushed herself snugly against his chest. As she lifted her
face to his, the morning sun glinted through the trees and temporarily blinded
her with its brilliance. She felt the warmth on her face, felt the warmth
within her soul.

For
the briefest of moments, before she lost herself to the wonder of Travis’s
kiss, she imagined that her mother was smiling down upon her, offering her
blessing.

“The light,” Kenzie breathed into Travis’s mouth.

“What
light?” he mumbled. “I’m seeing fireworks about now.” His kiss deepened. “Definitely
stars.”

“Mmm.”
It took a moment for a coherent thought to form when he kissed her like that.
“The light,” she murmured. “The light from my mirror.”

“You’re
still talking,” he complained against her lips.

“Just
one more thing,” she whispered, kissing the side of his mouth. “I love you,
Travis.”

“I
love you, too. Heart and soul, darlin’. Heart and soul.” He drew a deep breath
and pulled her impossibly closer. His tone was decidedly more impatient. “Now
shut up and kiss me.”

“I
just kissed you,” she argued. “It’s your turn. And stop growling like that. You
sound like… oh, my.” She barely managed the words before his mouth came down on
hers. After a long while, she murmured, “Okay, definitely shutting up now… Mmm.”

I
hope you have enjoyed this book and the entire Mirrors Don’t Lie series. Please
take a moment to leave a quick review. Your thoughts are invaluable to me and
to other readers, as well!

Special
thanks goes to Piret Mand for incorporating my personal photos of the Guadalupe
River State Park into another wonderful cover.

For
behind-the-scene details and information about other books I have written,
please visit my website,
www.beckiwillis.com
.
You can also find me at
www.facebook/beckiwillis.ccp
or email me at
[email protected]
.

Thanks
for letting me entertain you through the pages of my imagination. Happy
reading!

He
Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GUNU45W

The
Girl from Her Mirror, Book 1 of Mirrors Don’t Lie

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JS4KQIK

Mirror,
Mirror on Her Wall, Book 2 of Mirrors Don’t Lie

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NOC0YKW

Chicken Scratch, Book 1 of The
Sisters, Texas Series

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TYV10GY

When the Stars Fall, Book 2 of
The Sisters, Texas Series

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BGDBKG

“These all night stake outs are going to be the death of me
yet,” Lange Sterling groaned, shoulder-opening the door to his downtown
Richmond office and staggering inside. Muttering a reminder to himself about
getting the doorjamb fixed, he threw his crumpled jacket near the vicinity of
the coat rack and started for the sofa.

A persistent red light flashed from his answering machine,
determined to catch his attention before he crashed for an early morning nap.
Lange hit the play-back button as he plunked himself down on the sofa,
marveling at how soft the worn leather felt after a night spent in his pickup
truck. At thirty-one, his body was beginning to protest the erratic lifestyle
he had led over the past five years.

Hell, who was he kidding? He had been existing with
psychotic sleeping patterns for half his life. As a half-wild teenager, sleep
was something done primarily in class. After graduation and that fateful summer
he turned nineteen, his life changed forever, but not his sleeping habits. Lack
of sleep was all a part of his newfound career with the sheriff department. And
now, as an ex-cop turned private investigator, the hours were even worse. There
was no one to relieve him when his shift was over, no one to wake him when the
bell rang. Everything was left up to him, and he had so few hours in a day to
do it all.

Lost in self-pity, he almost missed the first message on the
machine. It was Diane, reminding him of their dinner arrangements with one of
her clients. Lange winced as he belatedly remembered to call off their date.
The second message was from her, as well, as
she
realized he had
forgotten to cancel their date. She told him what she thought of him in no
uncertain terms, bringing a sigh of resignation from the prone body sprawled
across the couch. She had some painful suggestions about what he could do with
the cell phone he refused to answer while on a stake-out. Eyes drooping in
fatigue, he listened to the next message, a pre-recorded message assuring him
there was nothing wrong with his credit now, but by enrolling in their latest
program...

Diane called a third time, apparently after returning from
her dinner and having cooled off. She regretted her earlier outburst and wanted
to make it up to him. Known for her mercurial mood swings, the auburn-haired
attorney obviously had some bi-polar issues. Lange snuggled down deeper into
the cushions, thankful to have missed the brute force of her latest swing.

The final message was from the same woman who had called
earlier in the week, the one with the soft, breathless voice. With his eyes
shut, it was easy to imagine screen legend Doris Day on the other end of the
line. But he had never heard his favorite movie star from the silver screen
speak with a quiver of fear in her voice, as this woman did.

“Mr. Sterling, I-I need your help. I’ve called before but
seem to keep missing you. I prefer to speak with you in person, so I’ll come by
your office in the morning, about a quarter till nine. I hope you’ll be there,
this matter is urgent. Thank you.”

Lange moaned in protest and opened his eyes just wide enough
to consult his wrist watch. She would be here in thirty minutes. He fished his
cell phone from his pocket and set the alarm, hoping to see the tiny numbers
correctly through his sleep depraved eyes. Then he settled back to claim twenty
glorious minutes of sleep before the mysterious woman arrived.

***

He was dreaming of daisies. Doris Day was running through a
field of them, warning him not to eat the daisies. He could hear her soft,
gentle voice, he could even feel the petals of a flower brushing against his
face. They tickled.

He awoke with a start, realizing he was not alone. A woman
stood over him, her face bent close as she peered hesitantly at his inert form.
Her white blonde hair fell forward, tickling his cheek, and he felt the warmth
of a summer breeze flood his senses. It was something in her scent, something
in her sky blue eyes. Something in the brilliant smile that was beginning to
spread across her gorgeous face.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” she said.

It was her, alright; Doris.

“Uh.... yeah,” Lange muttered. Was he really awake, or was
this a dream? He reached out a hand and touched her. She pulled away from his
touch with a small gasp, her big blue eyes widening.

Lange didn’t know which hit him first – the realization that
he wasn’t dreaming, or the feel of her skin. It was softer than anything he
could possibly dream up. Somewhere in his befuddled mind he knew he should be
fully alert now and moving, but all he could do was lay there and stare.

“Are- Are you sure you’re alright?” the woman asked in
genuine concern.

Snapping out of his trance, Lange swung up from the couch in
one easy, fluid motion. As he pulled himself to his full six feet, three
inches, the woman straightened with him, until she had to tilt her head
backwards to peer into his face. Lange stared down at her, fascinated by her
strawberry red lips, still wondering if she was anything more than a figment of
his imagination. Before he reached for her a second time, he controlled the
impulse to touch her by running both hands through his hair.

“I came at a bad time,” she said with sudden realization.

“No, no, you’re fine,” Lange insisted, smoothing his dark
hair down. “All-night stake out,” he said by way of explanation, stretching
away some of the fatigue.

Her eyes followed the rippling muscles along his shoulders,
traced the denim shirt which strained under the expansion of his chest. A flash
of appreciation sparked in her eyes before she hastily lowered them.

In spite of himself, Lange grinned. So, the little daisy
wasn’t quite as innocent as she first appeared. Remembering his manners and,
more importantly, his career, he extended his hand and made a formal
introduction. “Excuse my manners; Lange Sterling.”

She placed her small hand into his and met his gaze as she
smiled and said, “Ashli Wilson.”

A thought vaguely registered on his mind, how he never knew
until now that sunshine had a given name. Her hand was small and soft and
smooth; his was big and rough and callused. Somehow the feel of her crept up
his arm, across the general area of his heart, and down to regions known only
to man.

All this from a handshake? Hell, he was more exhausted than
he thought.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Wilson?”

“I’m in need of your services.”

“So I gathered. Exactly what did you need?”

Ashli glanced around the room and spied the desk and chairs
behind him. “Could we sit down, please, to discuss it?”

“Certainly.” He waved toward the chair absently, his hand
still warm from holding hers. When she simply stood beside the seat, waiting,
he realized she expected him to get the chair. Masking his irritation, Lange
pulled the chair out for her while murmuring an apology about his lack of
manners.

Shoving papers aside to prop one lean hip on the edge of the
desk, Lange returned to business. “So what is it I can do for you, Ms. Wilson?”

“It’s Miss,” she corrected him in that whisper-soft voice.
“And I need to hire you to protect me.”

“Protect you?” He went on full alert. “Are you in some sort
of danger?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. I don’t intend to be, if you’ll
help me.”

Trying to digest her three answers to his one question, he
finally came up with another. “Who do you want me to protect you from?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know.”

For all her beauty, she seemed to be a bit shy on brains.
Slowly, as if speaking to a dull witted child, he asked, “Then why do you need
my protection?”

She reached up to push an errant lock of hair from her
forehead. “I think someone is watching me,” she replied.

His eyes - and his mind - were still tangled in the blond
strands she pushed away. Damn right someone was watching her; every red blooded
male in Richmond, including himself.

Seeing her tiny frown, he wondered if he had voiced his
thoughts out loud. “What makes you think that, Miss Wilson?”

“Well, it’s more a feeling than anything else,” she
admitted.

“A feeling.” Oh, hell, she was worse than he thought!

“You know that funny little feeling you get when someone is
watching you? The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you can just
feel
their gaze on you.” She used her hands to illustrate her words. “Well,
someone is definitely watching me.”

Lange stared at her for a moment in silence. The woman
wanted him to protect her because the hairs were standing up on the back of her
neck. He interrupted his nap for this?

Trying to control his growing irritation, and generously
overlooking the fact that she answered simple questions in the most unusual
way, he took a steadying breath before speaking again. “Miss Wilson, have you
ever considered the fact that most men like to look at beautiful young women?
What you’re describing is just a part of human nature.”

“Mr. Sterling, I’m hardly a model. Men don’t look at me like
that.” She sounded completely sincere as she discredited her own beauty. “But
even if they did - which they don’t - I’m not talking about normal
oh-there’s-a-pretty-girl kind of watching. Someone is stalking me.”

“There’s a big difference in someone watching you and
someone stalking you, Miss Wilson.”

“And I hate to use the word, because it sounds so sinister.
But I don’t know how else to describe it. There’ve been a dozen little odd
instances. For one, someone went into my office, scattered the mail across on
my desk, changed the stereo to an oldies station.”

“A prank by a co-worker.”

She continued as if he had not spoken.  “Someone gifted
me a lifetime membership to the ASPCA and a magazine subscription for dog
lovers, even though I don’t have a pet.”

“Hardly a crime.”

“Someone was watching me at the grocery store, even though I
never saw them. When I went to check out, an employee brought over a bottle of
wine. Someone had purchased it and left it for me.”

In spite of himself, interest flared in his eye. “Maybe a
little odd,” he admitted. “An admirer, probably. Did you get a description?”

“The employee was an older woman, one of those retirees that
works as a greeter. She described him as a ‘delightful young man in a yellow
shirt’.”

“I don’t suppose you remember seeing anyone in a yellow
shirt?”

Blonde tendrils danced across the tops of her shoulders as
she shook her head.  “A few days later, I was followed through the mall. I
thought I might could duck inside a store and watch through the windows, see if
I recognized anyone as they passed by.”

“And did you?”

“No. After a while, I must admit I got side-tracked.” Her
sheepish grin caused his heart to tap out a crazy little pattern.  “It was
one of those great big beauty supply stores, and I’m afraid I got absorbed in
shopping. Because of my light hair color, some products give it an odd greenish
tint, so I have to use a very specific kind of shampoo and conditioner.” She
twirled a lock of purest blond around her finger. No green now, just rays of
sunshine. “When I went to check out, someone had left me a purchase.  It
was a bottle of shampoo, the exact brand that I use.”

“Could have been chance, someone with a background in beauty
products. Did the clerk give you a description?”

“The teenager at the register described him as an ‘old dude
in a yellow shirt’. I was a little rattled, so I stopped at one of the
restaurants in the mall and treated myself to dinner. My tab was picked up
anonymously.”

“Let me guess, a man in a yellow shirt?”

“I don’t know. It was shift change, and the cashier who took
the money had already left.”

Lange processed the various bits of information. “Okay, so
someone leaves you random gifts in public places and buys you dinner. Witnesses
say the man is either young or old. It could be a difference in perspective, or
it could be two different men, both who happen to own a yellow shirt.” He
released a heavy sigh. “I need more than that, Miss Wilson. Do you know what
kind of car he drives? Has he directly contacted you in any way? Have you had
any harassing phone calls, any e-mails, anything of that nature?”

“You sound as if you don’t believe me,” she frowned,
immediately put on the defensive with all his questions.

“I didn’t say that. I simply have to know the facts if I’m
to help you. You can’t very well go to the police and ask them to arrest
someone just because the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.”

“I’ve already been to the police, thank you very much. They
practically laughed in my face,” Ashli Wilson said with an indignant sniff.
Their casual handling of her complaints still smarted.

“Surely you told them more than you’ve told me, or I can
understand why they would be laughing.”

“I hardly find a Peeping Tom a laughing matter, Mr.
Sterling. The police felt it was a waste of the taxpayers’ money to help me. I
came to you because I’m willing to pay for the help they denied me.”

“Hold on, here. What Peeping Tom? Why didn’t you mention
that to begin with?”

“I told you, someone is watching me.” Now it was her turn to
speak as if to a dim-witted child.

“But you’ve never actually seen this person?”

“Not exactly. But I know he’s there.”

“Do you have a former husband or boyfriend who’s harassing
you?”

“No, I’ve never been married.”

“Any old boyfriends that may be jealous over a current
relationship?”

“No, none.”

“No jealous ex-boyfriends or no current relationship?” he
clarified.

“Neither.”

Lange rose and walked around to the other side of the desk.
He refused to acknowledge the little flash of relief he felt when she admitted
she was not currently in a relationship. He had more important things to worry
about. For instance, if she was really as batty as she seemed, or if she truly
had someone stalking her.