He glanced over at her, noticing how she had a hand over her mouth and was swallowing, hard, eyes closed. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
Henry slowed the car in case that was what was making her sick, because that was what she looked like, as if she was getting sick, and then pulled into the closest parking lot. He shut off the car and twisted in his seat, brushed her hair away from the side of her face.
That had been a mistake.
The smell of her perfume had been playing havoc on him, but this, touching her, was like he’d just been zapped by lightning. He’d tried not care about her, even pretended that he didn’t, pretended that he truly believed she’d somehow been involved with him being shanghaied, but it had all been a lie. The biggest lie he’d ever told himself.
He’d been so good at not caring before she came into his life. So very good. It had started at the orphanage, when other kids would talk about how their parents were going to come back for them someday. He knew his weren’t and pretended that didn’t matter to him. That he didn’t care.
Then, when he was adopted and, within months, moved into the junior college, he’d pretended he didn’t care. Didn’t care that his adoptive parents didn’t want him any more than his real parents had. Eventually, he’d gotten so good at pretending, that he had begun to truly not care.
He just couldn’t seem to reach that level with her. In fact, it appeared as if that may very well be as impossible as swimming across the ocean.
“Can I get something for you?” He glanced at the stores sharing the parking area. “There’s a grocer right over there.”
She dropped her hand away from her mouth and took a long inhale, then let it out slowly. “No, thank you, I’m fine now.”
“Did you have time to eat breakfast?” he asked. “Are you hungry?”
“No. I mean yes, I had breakfast. I’m not hungry.” She managed a tentative smile. “I’m fine now, really.”
She was still pale, but no longer looked as pasty as she had a short time ago. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. What time is your meeting with Mr. Owens?”
He glanced at his watch. “In about ten minutes, but I can go later. I’ll take you home.”
“No. I’ll go with you. I’m fine. We need to find out all we can so you can catch Elkin.”
There was color in her face again. He tucked her hair behind her ear.
She grasped his wrist and pulled his hand away from her. “Truly, Henry, I’m fine. You need to start driving so we aren’t late.”
He settled back in his seat and started the car. As he drove, he had to wonder if he’d be able to salvage any of his old self once this case was over. Caring about her was so easy, and nothing had ever come easy to him before.
“I told Mr. Owens that my name was Donald Knight and that I’m moving to Los Angeles from Virginia.”
She nodded. “Is that who you told my father you are? Donald Knight?”
“No, I told him my name was John Smith.”
She grinned. “You are going to confuse yourself using so many names.”
He’d already confused himself, not by using aliases, but by meeting her. Forgetting her would be something else that would be impossible. She was too beautiful, too special. “I’m used to being two people at the same time,” he said. “You are, too, Lacy.”
She made a little humph sound. “You are right about that.”
Out of the side of his eye, he saw her remove the burgundy cloche hat and flip her head down. She then gathered her long hair together, wrapped it tightly, and then tied a white scarf high on her forehead before putting the hat back on.
He had a hard time concentrating on driving, and barely managed to make the corner in the nick of time onto the street that would take them to the address that Blake Owens had given him.
She opened her purse and, using a small compact mirror, applied lipstick, and then other makeup as he continued to drive. She also pulled out a pair of elbow-length white gloves, and put them on, as well as a pair of earbobs and a string of pearls.
By the time he’d parked the car and got a good look at her, he was amazed by how much she’d changed her appearance while he’d been driving. She’d looked pretty before, in her white-and-burgundy-striped dress, but now, with a few small changes, looked as if she could be in a fashion magazine.
Taking a second look, he shook his head. “Is that some kind of a magical purse?”
Smoothing the gloves over her wrists, up her arms, she giggled. “No.”
He nodded. If there was a chance that Blake Owens knew her, the man wouldn’t recognize her. If Henry hadn’t witnessed the transformation, he might not have recognized her himself. She looked older, more sophisticated, and, as much as he didn’t want to think about it, sexier, than she had earlier.
“Let’s go.” He opened his door. “We are already a few minutes late.”
“My name is Lucy,” she said as she grabbed the door handle. “Lucy Knight.”
“Sit tight, Lucy Knight,” he said. “I’ll get your door for you.”
While walking around the car, he took a moment to focus on his undercover role, Donald Knight, whose wife was Lucy. An amazingly beautiful woman.
He placed a hand on the small of her back as they walked into the office of Owens Construction Company, and took great pride in introducing his undercover wife, Lucy Knight.
Once settled in a chair inside Blake’s office, Henry explained that he and his wife would be moving to California within a few months
