Room service was awaiting them when they returned to the hotel, and they ate wrapped in the sumptuous bed linens, with the lights off and the drapes open so they could watch the city being blanketed with snow. As the city noises abated outside, they comfortably melded together enjoying the sweet sound of each other’s slow, contented breathing as they drifted off to sleep.
Now as she watched him, Lacey felt him twitch every once in a while, and wondered what he was dreaming about. Was he here, dreaming of yesterday’s carriage ride, or of making love with her? Or was he on the battlefield, dreaming scenes she could never even imagine? She stroked his arm that was outstretched on the bed and traced the outline of the scar on his shoulder.
Worry furrowed her brow as she imagined the things that this man had seen and done in his life. She wondered where his career would take him next, and prayed silently he would be kept out of harm’s way.
Not long from now, the Navy would move him far away again. Far away from her. Far away from the safe, simple life they were leading in Annapolis.
The last twenty-four hours had been something of a fantasy for her, a magical moment in time that she hoped would comfort her when he left.
And he would leave.
What if she were to follow?
Looking again at the scar and imagining the mission he was on when he was injured, suddenly her flailing real estate career didn’t seem nearly as important.
She would follow him anywhere, she realized with a start. Give up her career, start fresh in a new town, maybe on the other side of the country. Other women did it. Why couldn’t she?
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to imagine what Vi would tell her right now. But the only thing she envision was Mick a year from now. Two years. Ten. Forever. She wanted to be the one waiting home for him every time he deployed. She wanted to watch his grey hairs come in and that hard six-pack slowly dissolve into a softer, decidedly average belly after he left the SEALs. Smiling at the thought, she tried to picture a few more wrinkles defining his face, and knew that she wanted to see them slowly appear over the years. If he wanted her to, that is.
If only he wanted her to.
They both jumped when they heard Lacey’s cell phone ring. She cursed softly, running across the room to dig it out of her purse before Mick completely awakened.
Too late. Mick’s eyes were wide open, and a smile spread across his face as he looked at Lacey in the nude, frantically fidgeting with her phone.
Lacey saw Maeve’s number on the caller ID. “Maeve?”
“No, it’s Bess, Lacey. I’m so sorry to call. I held off as long as I could.”
“It’s okay. Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”
Bess’s voice was tight on the other end. “We’re fine. But, well—your car was broken into.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Swallowing a groan, Mick adjusted his position in the soft sofa, feeling the ache in his lower back shoot ripples of pain up his spine and across his ribs.
He couldn’t believe he was this sore from just shoveling two driveways. It was almost embarrassing, and he’d be damned if he’d ever admit to it.
Maeve’s had been a simple, short span from the garage to the street. He had the mission completed well in time for Lacey to race out the driveway to her Saturday meeting with a new client.
When he volunteered to do Mrs. B’s, he really should have considered its size. The massive driveway seemed to stretch from her three-car garage to Buffalo, New York.
Why not just offer to shovel Highway 50 while he was at it?
Still, it needed to be done. He certainly wouldn’t have let her call a professional when he had two perfectly good arms to shovel snow. And the exercise would do him good. While he worked out regularly at the Academy gym, he missed the raw, genuine ache that came from hauling a ninety-pound pack across a sandy desert.
Or shoveling a driveway.
Besides, he was getting paid with the best hot cocoa he had tasted in his life, he thought contentedly, as Mrs. B brought him a second steaming cup of liquid indulgence from the kitchen.
“Had she left her car unlocked?” Edith continued their conversation.
“No, it was definitely locked. The window was broken. All the doors were opened; the trunk was popped. But then, that’s it. They didn’t take anything. Not even her GPS.”
Edith shuddered. “It can’t be a coincidence. It is so similar to what happened to Maeve’s house. I hope the police are taking that into consideration.”
“They are. And they said they’d send a patrol car over regularly to keep an eye on the place. But they have no leads.”
“Any footprints in the snow?”
“It kept snowing after the break-in, so they’re hard to make out. And any car tracks were plowed over.”