Carefully, she slipped out of the dress and veil, returning them to the closet, safely stored in the garment bag.
Then she grabbed her suitcase and started packing. Now that she had a plan in mind, she knew what she had to do. It was dramatic and daring…and if it didn’t work, she would be crushed. But the pain of her plan failing couldn’t be any worse than what she’d gone through over the past several days.
With trembling fingers, she typed the address into her GPS, made sure that she had a full tank of gas, checked the passenger seat to make sure she had her purse and her cell phone and…!
Kinsley was doing it! She drove out of her apartment parking lot and headed for Lincoln’s place. She had a note already written and, when she arrived, she didn’t even bother to try the door. She simply taped the note to the door, glanced up at the camera, then drove off again.
Five minutes later, she was on the highway, heading out of Seattle.
Chapter 18
Lincoln watched as Kinsley’s sensible Prius taillights faded off in the distance. Watching her had become some sort of weird, voyeuristic pleasure. Since he wouldn’t allow himself the pleasure of being with her, he survived off glimpses of her in the security cameras.
That last glance, her eyes…what did it mean?
What had she left on the door to the warehouse?
Unable to resist finding out, he set down the beer he hadn’t been drinking and hurried down the pathway to the front door of the warehouse. Sure enough, the piece of paper was there.
And on it was just a time and…not an address. Coordinates? Yes, that made sense.
Crushing the paper in his fist, he walked back up to the house, determined to ignore the note. It wasn’t even a proper note. Just a bunch of numbers!
He was able to ignore it for thirty minutes. After that, he couldn’t stop himself from fishing it from the trash and smoothing it out. Taking his phone, he looked up the coordinates. But when he saw where they led, he still didn’t understand. Maybe she’d made a mistake?
No, Kinsley didn’t make mistakes!
She was meticulous!
“What the hell are you doing, Kinsley?”
The following morning, after another sleepless night, he grabbed the paper and his truck keys. He didn’t bother to pack anything. He wasn’t going to stay. He just…Lincoln needed to make sure that she was okay.
He called ahead to the airport and arranged for a flight. So by the time he pulled into the parking lot at the airport, a private plane was gassed up and waiting for him.
“Good morning, Mr. Meyers,” the pilot called out, tipping his hat as Lincoln climbed the short flight of stairs to the interior of the jet.
“Good morning. Are we ready to go?”
The flight attendant smiled politely. “We’re ready when you are, sir,” she replied. “Do you have any luggage?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m ready,” he flung himself into one of the large, leather seats, and secured his seat belt.
The pilot took off his hat, saying, “We should be in the air in five minutes, sir. It’s only a two hour flight after that.”
“Thank you,” Lincoln said, but he really needed everyone to shut up and leave him alone. Worry was eating at him, making him conjure images of Kinsley alone in a strange city. In her sensible Prius. Alone! Damn it, what the hell was she doing?!
Was Carl with her? Was that what this was about?
He almost told the pilot to turn around. The idea of seeing that ass, watching him touch Kinsley, was just too nauseating.
But in the off chance that she wasn’t with him, he needed to make sure that she was safe.
He picked up his cell phone and texted her. No response.
“Damn it! What are you doing?!”
Two hours later, he stepped off of the plane. “Which way to the taxi stand?” he asked of the pilot, wishing that he’d paused long enough to grab his sunglasses.
“Why don’t you use my car?” the pilot said, pointing out a town car sitting on the tarmac.
Lincoln didn’t hesitate. He dove into the back of the black town car and gave the driver the coordinates, then leaned back against the soft leather seat, still trying to figure out what Kinsley was doing.
Kinsley paced along the hallway, her heels clicking against the marble and her hands sweating so badly, she was ruining the ribbon.
“Please, please come!” she muttered, then turned and paced the other way.
Glancing at the time, she knew that he was already five minutes late. Was he going to come? Or had she just made a monumental, very expensive mistake?
She’d just turned to pace the other way when she spotted a tall, handsome, broad shouldered man heading towards her. He wore worn jeans and a tee shirt from a Motley Crew concert from the eighties. But goodness, he looked magnificent! He hadn’t even shaved! Her heart swelled with love and hope.
“What the hell is going on, Kinsley?” Lincoln demanded. “Are you getting married? Is Carl here? Did you decide you needed to rub my face in your wedding day?”
She smiled up at him, although she suspected that the smile was a bit tremulous. “Yes. No. And no.”
He blinked, sighed heavily, then ran a hand over his scruffy chin. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in about a week!
“What the hell is this about?” he demanded.
Kinsley pulled her hand away and fumbled inside the small
