Page 55 of Singing For His Kiss

Moments passed, interminably long. “I’ll make sure Maria makes some food for you.”

“That would be great, thanks,” she said, disappearing into the office and closing the door.

She let out the breath she’d been holding, then looked at the phone, her mouth dry. She thought about just hanging up, but he’d only get angry and probably turn up on the doorstep, which would be so much worse. She took a shaky breath, knowing David would only get angrier by the moment if she wasn’t on soon.

“How did you find me?” She worked hard to get the words out.

The laugh at the other end of the phone sent a chill right up her spine. “You’re as easy to read as a book, sweetheart. Never shut up about never seeing the ocean. And that postcard you blue-tacked to your bathroom mirror. All I needed to do was speak to Jayne at the bus depot and act all brokenhearted and ask what bus you’d taken. Left without even sayin’ goodbye to me. Now, why would you go and do something like that?”

Elizabeth licked her lips, “David…I.”

“Looks like you fell right on your feet, though. Doesn’t it? Living in a big house like that. Getting cozy with the owner and the girl. Right on the money.”

Her knees gave out, and she sat in one of the office chairs. “Leave them out of this.”

“Well, that all depends on you now, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

“What do you want, David?” Hell, she just wanted to be rid of him. The man left nothing but misery wherever he went. And following her here. That was just insane. She wasn’t just dealing with a horrible person; she was dealing with a madman.

“Café opposite Louttit Bay. Half an hour.”

The phone went dead. She wasn’t left with an option. She brought the phone down from her ear, the disconnect sound erupting through the earpiece like a siren.

There was no running from a man like David Logan. You went when he wanted you gone, and now she really did have everything to lose.

The next lie she told James sat like a stone in her gut. She needed to get into town. More stomach troubles, an old prescription she had, and a trip to the chemist that could only settle it.

She didn’t even notice the rugged winter beauty of the ocean as she stood looking inside the café. The huge blackboard on the back wall was scribbled with the menu. The delicious smells of lunch only served to turn her stomach even more.

There was a crowd around the counter, but she saw the man she was looking for immediately. Crouched in a corner over a cup of coffee right at the end of the long communal table.

He had a knack of blending in, becoming background noise. That was, unless he decided to pour on the charm. Today he was dressed in a black windcheater, the hoodie tugged over his head, just as he’d worn when she’d seen him on the beach. Elizabeth knew he didn’t cover his face because of the chilled wind. He didn’t want to be remembered.

The sweatshirt failed to hide his large, muscular form. His shoulders were huge and filled the top to capacity. Meaty. Biceps bulged, even as he picked up the mug. She saw the black lines of his tattoo on the back of his hand, partly hidden beneath the sleeve.

At the homestead, he’d only worn a tank top or no shirt at all. Because of the heat, he’d said, but looking back it was more to show off his build. Hard physical work and a fitness regime had him rugged, strong, built like a brick wall. He knew it, and he used it to his advantage.

Swallowing down the bile that stung her throat, she pushed past the lunch crowd. Her body screamed to turn and run the other way, and she had to will her feet to walk towards him.

As she reached his side, he turned to face her. His black eyes registered power and triumph. The hint of a smile touched his mouth; that too was conquest because he’d scared her enough to come here. She shuddered. She’d taken off in the middle of the night those handful of days ago not to see his face or that look again, and now here she was, up close and uncomfortable with him again.

No woman should be mistreated. You…should never be mistreated.

That was what James had told her, and she’d believed him. If only all men were like him. What a wonderful world that would be. Unfortunately, she knew better.

David tugged out a chair he’d coveted so no one else could sit next to him. “Sit.”

“I’d rather stand.”

His eyes hardened. A ripple of fear ran though her. “I said sit.”

She wilted into the seat, clutching her stomach, her mouth dry. She watched him take another casual sip of his coffee, too scared to say or do anything that might anger him.

He faced her, putting one arm on the back of his chair and the other on the bench. All she was aware of was a huge wall of solid chest. Power radiated towards her. She fought not to cringe.

“James Rhyder. That house he lives in is worth a few mill.”

“Keep him out of this!” Her voice trembled like mad.

---