Lying Eyes Page 16

  She pulled on jogging clothes, tied her shoe strings, and drank a glass of orange juice, her thoughts on the way she used to get upset when someone from LA referred to San Diego as the "sleepy little town by the Bay".

  She now knew what they meant. San Diegans were still sleeping when the worst crimes occurred in Los Angeles. Here, most local residents hit the freeway an hour before San Diegans woke to turn off their alarms.

  Outside the condo, traffic was beginning to build as Allison hurried across Fox Drive and glanced back at her complex.

  Not my complex, Rachael's.

  She'd be returning from Italy in mid-September. Allison had never expected to take this long to find a place to move.

  I was wrong. So wrong.

  She was no nearer deciding where to live than she had been on her first day at work. LA sprawled in every direction, and this was definitely not the area she wanted to make her home.

  Too ritzy for me, too many limos, and fancy breeds of dogs.

  She did enjoy the nearness of Century City Park, however, and as she stepped into the park and jogged off at her usual pace, Allison let the peaceful surroundings lull her restless mind.

  Five miles later her steps slowed as she jogged back to her temporary home.

  Once inside, she glanced at her bedroom clock, stripped, and turned on the shower.

  Carlo would love this showerhead.

  Thoughts of him invaded her mind at the most inopportune times.

  Like yesterday. She'd foolishly hoped to run into him at the bank robbery. Robbery isn't his specialty.

  Wonder if he has trouble sleeping, too?

  *****

  At lunch on Thursday Hanson told Carlo about seeing Allison on Cable News.

  Carlo's throat went dry.

  If just hearing her name makes me heartsick, watching her on a television will likely kill me.

  To satisfy his curiosity, he raced home after his shift and turned on the Six O'clock News.

  His heart was thumping by the time Allison was introduced. She was standing in front of a burned-out church in East LA, scene of a hate crime, he supposed. The Crime Unit agreed, but two church employees Allison interviewed reported smelling overheated wiring in a back room earlier in the day.

  Sadly, no one reported it, Allison told the viewers, looking as confident before the camera as she had when describing alpha males to her conference audience.

  Am I as mule-headed as she said?

  Internal Affairs thinks so. The Captain, too.

  And today Hanson joined the growing list of people insisting I change.

  How hard would it be for him to admit he'd been wrong?

  Is it a question of genes?

  Is it possible to learn from my mistakes? To abandon my misbeliefs, accept my shortcomings, and get on with my life at this late date?

  I have to try.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  "Allison? It's Carlo."

  "I know, I recognized you voice."

  Don't let my excitement show.

  An almost impossible task, when every nerve in her devious body was responding to Carlo's unexpected phone call.

  "How've you been?" she whispered to break the silence.

  "Good. I'm good. Finally back on duty. Light duty."

  "It must be driving you crazy."

  He chuckled. "You've got that right. I caught your report on the church fire last night. How long have you been here?"

  "Long enough for LA to start romancing me, almost three weeks." Three weeks I could have been spending with you. "What... do you want, Carlo?"

  "To see you. We have some unfinished business I'd like to resolve."

  "You did that the last time I saw you, and quite eloquently, I might add. There's nothing more to be said."

  "This is not like you, Allison. Please don't let my thoughtless words harden your heart. Remember the immigrant woman from Turkey? And the cancer survivor you befriended on the train? You had time to listen to their stories. Give me a chance to explain."

  Allison weighed the possibility for a telling moment and murmured, "When?"

  "How about Saturday night? We could drive up to Malibu and—"

  "No. I don't want to air our problems in some fancy restaurant. I may want to shout at you."

  "I'm sorry I hurt you. I want to apologize."

  "Why don't you come here? If you still want to eat when I've had my say, we can order in."

  "I can... do that. Where is here?"

  "Century City."

  She gave him directions, all the while thinking:

  This is the stupidest thing I've ever done, agreeing to revisit healed wounds.

  She ended the call.

  What am I doing?

  Giving Carlo a chance to right a wrong?

  Or to break my heart again?

  *****

  Friday turned out to be a slow news day, so Allison aired the human interest story she'd just finished editing about a young boy on a mission. She'd first noticed Jonathan selling lemons on a street corner in East LA. She bought a few and learned he was trying to raise enough money to get his father out of jail.

  The day after Jonathan's father lost his job he had accidentally backed into the neighbor's fence, knocking over three sections of the hundred-foot-long fence held up by rotted posts.

  When the neighbor discovered the father was not able to pay for the damages, he sued him in small claims court and he was ordered to pay the homeowner three-thousand-dollars, the cost of replacing the fence along the damaged side. Since he had no money to pay the debt Jonathan's father went to jail.

  Enamored by the determined boy with what she thought an impossible goal, Allison had enlisted the help of her cameraman and returned to film Jonathan's story. In her last news segment of the day she'd aired the erudite boy's story and by the time the report ended the Station's switchboard had been inundated with calls offering help from contractors all over Los Angeles.

  She drove home smiling to herself, convinced she'd done the right thing.

  Have I also done the right thing, agreeing to see Carlo?

  Or have I just opened myself up to more hurt?

  Solving her problem with Carlo would not be as easy as getting a damaged fence replaced. The appeal of Jonathan's story had been his childish openness, his willingness to air his father's problems in public in hopes of reaching his altruistic goal.

  Carlo had never fully opened up to her.

  Why did he ask to see me?

  *****

  Most Fridays, Carlo's mother cooked dinner for him and this week was no exception.

  He'd no sooner kissed her cheek than she began firing her usual questions at him. "Have you talked to Allison? Has she—"

  "I have, and she will, tomorrow night."

  "You're taking her someplace special, aren't you?"

  "No. I tried, but Allison wants to stay in so she can rake me over the coals."

  Angela's face lit. "I told you she's smart. You deserve a good dressing down."

  "Mom—"

  "I know, and I'm proud of you. Enough said."

  "What's for dinner? It sure smells good."

  "One of your favorites. Pasta Rizzoli and that crusty bread you like from Sampson's Bakery. Want to open the wine?"

  Carlo was on his second helping of soup when Angela said, "I hope you've learned your lesson and don't plan to start ordering Allison around again. Independent, intelligent women don't require as much help as you think."

  "I plan to apologize to her as soon as she lets me in and let her dump on me for as long as she wants. When she finally runs out of names to call me I'm going to tell her how much I love her and invite her to move in with me."

  "Slow down, son. You mustn't take Allison's feelings for you for granted. Once you have her ear, take your time. There's no fire. You don't want to frighten her off, and you sure don't want to come across as being bossy when it comes to matters of the heart."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

&
nbsp; Before she ate lunch on Saturday Allison browned a cut-up chicken and started it fricasseeing in the crock pot. Cooking for Carlo would give her hands something to do and keep her from biting her nails.

  By the time she'd scrubbed and oiled two man-sized potatoes for baking and tore greens for a tossed salad, she was wishing she'd planned a more elegant meal.

  An entree that required more preparation would have diverted my mind from the coming confrontation with Carlo.

  Why had he asked to see her?

  To beat a dead horse again is one possibility.

  Some men can't leave well enough along.

  No, Carlo is not one of those.

  Over the phone he'd sounded different. Unsure of himself even, and more reserved.

  Had facing the possibility of immortality changed him? Made him feel less manly? Less alpha?

  She hoped not. She wouldn't want to change a single hair on his curly head.

  It would be mindboggling if he'd decided to make room in his life for her.

  Don't get your hopes up. Expecting too much from this encounter could be a disaster.

  She started the potatoes baking at five. She'd told Carlo to come at six, but now wished she'd told him to come earlier. She didn't want to wait another moment to find out what was on his mind.

  A long, hot shower eased her tension and as she dressed in her favorite jeans—Carlo's too, for that matter—and a sequined top sporting a sexy plunging neckline, butterflies took flight in her stomach.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  Would she be sorry for opening this sealed door?

  If I am, I can always slam it shut again.

  The doorbell rang while she was brushing her hair into a golden halo around her shoulders. She forced herself to stroll to the door and let Carlo in when she really wanted to skip.

  Without a word he handed her a bottle of white wine, strode to the center of the room and glanced around before saying, "Nice digs."

  "It's not mine. I'm just camping out here while the friend who owns this condo tours Italy. I intend to find a place of my own as soon as I have time to search."

  "The new job keeping you busy?"

  "Busier than I expected. Learning my way around this sprawling metropolis is time consuming. Thankfully my cameraman was raised here and has been a lot of help. How are you, Carlo? You look tired."

  He flinched. "Unnerved might be a better word. Now that I'm here, I don't know where to begin."

  "Why did you want to see me?"

  He plowed his fingers through his thick hair. "This could take a while. Do you mind if we sit?"

  "Of course not. How thoughtless of me. Please, sit. Would you like something to drink?

  "A glass of water would be great. I had a long drive."

  "The reason I decided not to settle in this neighborhood, although I dearly love to jog in Century City Park. Excuse me a minute while I get your water."

  She let the glass fill slowly, giving her time to settle her thoughts.

  Carlo has changed. He's no longer the take-charge man I knew and loved. It's as if getting shot shook him to his core.

  "Here you go," she said, placing a tall crystal goblet on the glass-topped lamp table beside his chair.

  "Thanks."

  "Looks like your rehab was successful. How did it go?"

  "I no longer walk with a limp. That's something, but leg cramps keep waking me up at night."

  "Eating bananas helps. What does your doctor say?"

  "To be patient. The cramps will eventually go away."

  "Patience. Sounds familiar."

  "I didn't come to talk about my rehab."

  "Then why did you come?"

  "To apologize in person. In the hospital, those things I said, I never meant to hurt you. Sending you away was the hardest thing I ever did, and the last thing I wanted to do. When you walked out of my room I tried so hard to go after you I nearly broke my leg. A resident passing my room restrained me."

  Carlo inhaled a ragged breath. "Can you ever forgive me?"

  "I may, if you tell me what was going through your head that day."

  "I'd convinced myself I'd failed you and decided I was incapable of keeping you or anyone safe. The psychologist that Internal Affairs insisted I see told me getting shot is a life changing moment. For a while I tried to shift my guilt at not shooting the perp to you, but he saw right through that, too."

  "To me?"

  "We'd become close, something I never should have let happen. The victim of a crime and the cop responsible for her safety—the Department has rules about—"

  "Intimacy. You told me, but your warning came too late. There was no escape. I had—"

  "—already crawled into my bed." He suppressed a guilty grin. "In just a matter of days, we were deeply involved."

  "We couldn't help ourselves—"

  "I agree, but our emotional attachment nearly cost both our lives."

  "How?"

  "I should have shot Ram as soon as I realized he was holding a gun on you. I had the drop on him, but I announced my presence instead—another LAPD rule—in hopes the perp would surrender while he had the chance. I held my fire a second too long, fearing for your life. Then the perp started shooting and—"

  Carlo noisily inhaled. "You know the rest."

  He swallowed half a glass of water and set the glass down. "For hours on end I lay in the hospital reliving the shooting from every angle. I convinced myself it was your fault, that I never would have been shot if you hadn't climbed into my bed."

  "My—"

  He held up his hand, effectively halting her objection, but not her anger.

  "I was wrong. I can admit it, now. My counselor helped me see I had a hero complex. I mistakenly believed I could save the world but failed to, and that knowledge has been eating me alive. It probably started with the death of my little brother."

  He cleared his throat. "The counselor convinced me that if it had been any other woman standing on the landing with Ram I'd have felt the same way about not being able to save her. Loving you had nothing to do with my guilt feelings about being unable to keep you safe, but my love for you had everything to do with my wanting to see you again."

  Allison's anger vanished and she joyfully smiled. "I knew you loved me. I'd seen it in your eyes, eyes that never lie, and knew the hurtful words you spouted from your hospital bed were all lies. As I gazed into your eyes, trying to absorb the meaning of your words, your eyes told a different story. Their depths revealed your heart was breaking, too. I decided not to hang around and try to change your mind. The things I wanted to say would have hurt you more."

  "So you walked right out of my life."

  "Only because you asked me to," she achingly whispered and opened her arms to him. "Have you come to make me part of your life again?"

  Tugging her to her feet, Carlo tenderly enclosed her in his loving arms.

  This is what I missed most.

  Sighing deeply, she snuggled against his firm chest.

  Long moments passed while his tongue explored the recesses of her welcoming mouth and she clung to her uptight detective, content.

  The ding of the oven timer broke the silence.

  With a quiet chuckle, Carlo loosened his hold on her. "Sounds like dinner is ready. I'm glad you decided to cook. These delicious smells are killing me. What can I do to help?"

  "Want to open the wine?" she asked, then gave him a puzzled look. "Why are you grinning at me?"

  "Mom asked me the same question last night."

  "How is Angela?"

  "Relieved she no longer has me underfoot."

  "Then you did move in with her for a while? During your surgery, she told me she hoped you would."

  "I did, and for several weeks she was in seventh heaven seeing to my needs again."

  "I admire Angela and hope I'm as happy and content as she is when I'm her age."

  Carlo grinned. "Mom thinks the world of you, too."

  "She does?"r />
  "Yes, she made me swear not to rush you into sharing my house."

  "You're inviting me to move in with you?"

  "Only if you love me and want to spend the rest of your life with me. You never gave up on me and you've finally convinced me I'll be better off loving you than trying to go it alone."

  "I do. Love you, I mean. And yes, I can't wait to move in with you. Is tomorrow soon enough?"

  Carlo's grin became a full-fledged smile and he opened his arms to her.

  "I love a decisive woman."

  The End

  About Toni Noel

  Toni Noel spent her child-rearing years working to secure a library for her community and presenting puppet shows created to open the minds and eyes of underprivileged children to the joy of the written word. She's spending her golden years in Southern California with her husband and looking forward to the day her local library shelves her books.

  Watch for more of Toni's novels about safe havens for the heart at http://www.DesertBreezePublishing.com, and visit Toni's website at http://www.toninoelauthor.com.