Leave Me Love(9)

She wiped her hands on her apron and came to shake my hand. "Lovely to meet you, dear. We've heard so much about you. It's about time he brought you over for a proper meal. And none too soon, I can see. Did they feed you nothing at that hospital?" She had a lilt to her voice, possibly British, but subtle enough that it took a moment to notice.

I smiled at her fussing. "No one wants to eat hospital food. I look forward to dinner. It smells heavenly."

She nodded, her grey bun bouncing on her head. "As it should. Been working all day on it, I have. I hope you eat meat, my dear."

"I do, Mrs. Brown. Thank you."

Mrs. Brown pulled the man next to her forward. "This is my husband, Mr. Brown. He works here, too."

Mr. Brown didn't look like the talkative type, and I had the sense that his wife carried most of the words in their relationship. Still, he grinned and bowed his head, then went back to the food, the apron looking odd over his fancy suit.

"You must love cooking in here," I said.

Mrs. Brown put a hand on Ash's shoulder, like she was proud of him. "Indeed I do. Mr. Davenport makes sure I have everything I could want, and some things I couldn't possibly need. You like to cook?"

I nodded. "But I don't get a chance to often."

She gave a knowing look to Ash. "This one's a keeper. You mark my words, Mr. Davenport."

"Yes, ma'am." He guided me out of the kitchen.

I waved bye and faced Ash. "They treat you like a son."

"They've worked for me for many years."

"Do they live here?" I asked.

"They live in the attached brownstone. When they refused to take one of the rooms upstairs, I bought it for them."

I whistled. "Guess it's good working for you."

"I try to make it a pleasant experience."

I raised an eyebrow. "The Ashton Davenport experience?"

We both laughed as we walked down another hall decorated with large modern paintings. I thought I spied an original Picasso, but didn't get a chance to ask before he opened double doors to a wood-paneled library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a black desk in the center with two computers on it. "This is my office," he said. There was no evidence he actually worked in here, as everything had a proper place and was polished to a high sheen.

"Are you always this neat?"

"No. I can be quite a mess sometimes, especially when I'm in the middle of a project, but Mr. and Mrs. Brown keep everything looking pristine."

The sun was just beginning to set when he took me to the patio. It was a whole other paradise, with lush plants, a romantic table set for two with candles and white lights strewn in the trees and vines through the latticework. Soft music played from invisible speakers.

"La Belle et La Bete," I said, remembering our talk about Philip Glass, back when Cat had been a different person.

He reached out for me and I went to him willingly. "You are the beauty to my beast," he said. "I know I'm rough around the edges, but I'm falling in love with you, Miss Travis."

My throat choked with tears. I tried to giggle them away. "Kind of forward for a first date."

"Only if you think so." He kissed me, stroking my long hair, holding me tight against him. "I want more of this."

"I think that can be arranged."

He pulled my seat out and sat across from me, then poured us each a glass of wine. "To us," he said, holding his glass out.

"To us."

I sipped my wine, enjoying the view of Boston from his porch. Mr. Brown brought out a sampling of cheeses, fruits and olives "to take the edge off".

At dinner, I ate more than my body weight of the finest food, and still managed to find room for the seven-layer chocolate cake Mrs. Brown served us afterward. "You're going to have to roll me around after this meal," I mumbled, taking another bite of the cake that would be my death if I didn't stop eating.

When nothing but crumbs remained on my plate, we moved to one of the outdoor couches and enjoyed the fire pit that glowed blue like magic, as Mr. and Mrs. Brown cleaned up and said goodnight, letting themselves out with a reminder that leftovers were in the fridge and a You should really eat a second serving, dear to me.

Ash handed me two gifts he pulled from under the couch. "Open this one first," he said, handing me the bigger one.

"What's this for?" I unwrapped quickly, and then stared at the open box.

"For your protection." He picked up the gun and cocked it. "This is a Springfield XDS 9 millimeter. It's small enough to be a useful concealed weapon but still packs enough of a punch to do some damage."

"Ash, I've never shot a gun before." But I wanted to, I realized. I wanted to a lot.