Still, she found herself agreeing. “Okay, Reed, just for a little while.”
She walked around to the opposite side of the bed, and slipped under the covers feeling all the jitters of a nervous virgin bride. This wasn’t sexual, she reminded herself, and she held out her arms to him. This was healing.
He slipped into her warm, open embrace. Her lips found his forehead, and lingered there while her finger tips stroked his chin, and imparted all the healing power she had within her to him.
“I don’t understand how it is possible, Sara-Kate?”
“What is that?”
“That we only met a short time ago, but I feel like I know you. That we’re somehow connected.”
This wasn’t some put on, she knew. He wasn’t trying to win her over for a quick romp under the blankets. He truly was puzzled.
Somehow, his lips managed to find hers. Momentarily, she allowed herself to indulge in their kiss, the feeling of his lips on hers, before gently, reluctantly, pulling away.
“Sleep now, Reed, “she implored. “Sleep.”
CHAPTER TWO
Sara-Kate awoke to a completely new feeling. To be in the arms of a man. The soft curves of her body, hugged the strong, muscled body of Reed. In sleep, his hand tenderly held hers against the dark hairs on his chest.
For an all too brief few moments, she savored the feeling, and let herself pretend that everything was as it should be. But all too soon, the events of the a few hours earlier, and the reality of the situation at hand, flooded back. Reed did not belong to her. He was a soul who lost his way, a situation she would most likely be forced to fix, and the outcome was uncertain.
Gently, she eased herself out of bed in an attempt not to disturb him. She tip-toed from the bedroom, and quietly closed the door behind her. As she walked to the stairs with thoughts of a cup of coffee on her mind, the doorbell sounded.
She hurried down the stairs, still dressed in her silk chemise nightwear. Through the peephole on the front door, she recognized the face of the Overnight Force courier, with her deliveries for the day.
“Good morning,” she said brightly, after opening the door.
“I’m glad your home. I was concerned when you didn’t open the door yesterday. I mean, you’re always home.” There was a certain relief in the tone of his voice.
Sara-Kate’s eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “Excuse me?”
“I stacked all your deliveries in your greenhouse out back. There was nothing for me to pick up.” He paused and laughed lightly. “And you always have a lot of packages to pick up.”
Sara-Kate absorbed his words, and tried to make sense of them. It was Monday. Why would the courier come to her house on a Sunday? Something was definitely off. Had Reed’s arrival triggered some kind of time issue?
“What day is it?” she asked, even though she knew how her question was going to come across to the courier.
“Day? Ah...it’s Tuesday.” He checked his watch. “Ten in the morning. Listen...are you okay?”
She barely heard him. Instead, she stood with arms folded demurely over her exposed cleavage. She lost an entire day. Perhaps the answer was so simple. She expelled so much healing and comfort to Reed, she had flattened herself physically and mentally, and spent the extra day recovering from the trauma of it all.
“Sara...are you okay?”
The courier’s voice brought her back to reality. “Yes. I had a bit of a personal issue to attend to yesterday. Thank you for making sure the deliveries arrived.”
“No problem. I already left today’s deliveries in the back, and I’ll be on my way with your outgoing packages.” He gestured toward the neatly stacked packages in the foyer.
“Great, thank you so much,” Sara-Kate said with a smile, and waited for him to collect the stack of packages before closing and locking the door.
An entire day gone, she thought to herself as she started a pot of coffee. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She had more pressing things to look into. A little detective work needed to be done.
She retrieved her laptop computer, placed it on the kitchen table, and hit the power switch. While it took its time powering up, she went to the living room where Reed’s suitcase sat. She placed it on a table, and opened it. It wasn’t snooping, she told herself. Reed asked her to find his wallet, and make a few phone calls for him. Of course, she doubted anyone waited for her call.
Nothing looked out of place or odd in the suitcase. A few shirts, a pair of jeans neatly folded. A toiletry bag filled with ordinary items. A few blank notebooks and pens, and finally a black leather wallet.
She opened the wallet and examined its contents. A few credit cards, a stack of neatly folded money, a few business cards. She looked at the driver’s license that bore his name and address. Reed Thayer, with an address in a city called Lockwood.
Since she never left her home, she didn’t have a driver’s license. But she did know what one looked like. This license, although very authentic looking, was nothing like what she remembered.
She closed the suitcase, and walked to the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the butcher block table. She tapped in the name “Reed Thayer” into the internet search engine, hit go, and waited.
There was a Reid Thayer, with the name Reed spelled differently, but she quickly dismissed it when she saw it was a man in his sixties. The Reed Thayer upstairs was clearly in his thirties. There was a
