Past Sins. Debra Webb
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no one had lasted beyond date number three until Jeffrey. She tossed her double-breasted suit jacket onto the king-size bed in their room and strode into the walk-in closet to find something more comfortable.
It wasn’t that she’d fallen in love with Jeffrey. He’d simply fit nicely into the life she’d created for herself. He was reliable, kind and always considerate. He made no complicated demands. Simple was her new motto, after all.
Pink silk lounge pants and a matching camisole replaced her skirt and button-up blouse. The tile of the en suite bath felt cool beneath her bare feet, a welcome respite after wearing stilettos all day.
Once she had taken the pins from her French twist, she brushed through her long dark hair until it glistened around her shoulders. If she really took the time to consider her reflection, she would have to admit that she looked the same as before. Her hair was longer and darker, but otherwise she’d changed very little. Same green eyes. No additional wrinkles to speak of for a woman closer to forty than thirty. It was everything else in her life that had altered.
She hissed a breath of impatience. Why couldn’t she stop this? She hadn’t had this much trouble focusing since…since the beginning.
She grabbed her empty glass and headed back to join Jeffrey.
He’d set the dining table. Flowers, candles and the lovely white bone china they used every day. He placed the salad bowl in the middle of the table next to the linguini and white-wine sauce before he looked up.
“You need another drink.”
He moved to her side to remedy that situation without her having to say a word. That was another thing she enjoyed about Jeffrey. Making her happy appeared to be his single goal when they were together. She should be grateful.
She was.
“Smells heavenly.” She thanked Jeffrey for the refill and settled into the chair he pulled out.
He took his own seat directly across from her and lifted his glass. “To us.” He smiled as their glasses clinked. “And a lovely evening.”
She returned the smile and drank deeply from her wine.
Now was all that mattered.
Her new life…this moment.
The unmistakable sound of her cell phone chimed from the hall. She groaned.
“Don’t answer it,” Jeffrey suggested, looking mildly annoyed at the intrusion.
Olivia sat her glass down. “I shouldn’t.” She took a deep breath and rose from her chair. “But one of my patients is having a crisis. If he needs me…”
Jeffrey rolled his eyes but said nothing as she left the table without finishing the statement. He understood her dedication to her work even if he didn’t like it at times. He was every bit as dedicated as she was.
She walked to the hall table and fished her phone from her bag. Jeffrey was right. She shouldn’t answer. If it was one of her patients, he could leave a message.
The display flashed an icon she didn’t remember seeing before. She frowned as she attempted to remember what it meant.
Then she knew.
Never count on anything to last.
Chapter 2
For ten seconds Olivia couldn’t breathe.
This was impossible.
She told herself to inhale. Instinctively she reached up and fingered the necklace that served as a constant reminder of all she wanted to forget.
“Is everything all right, Olivia?”
Her gaze shot to the dining room where Jeffrey stared at her, concern marring the smooth features of his intelligent face.
She swallowed. “I have to take this.”
Before he could give her a disappointed look for allowing the intrusion during dinner—during their time—she escaped out the front door.
This was not a call forwarded from her office number or her home number or any other number represented by some part of her present life.
This was the past calling. An old cell number she’d once used as a lifeline…a number she’d tried for three years to forget but could never bring herself to let go.
By the fifth ring she had reached the edge of her driveway. She flipped open the phone, her heart pounding. “Yes.” It was a miracle her voice didn’t quaver.
“Sheara?”
The earth shook beneath her, or maybe it was her rigid frame doing the shaking. She tried to steady herself but the name reverberated through her like the aftershocks of a major quake.
This wasn’t possible.
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“I have a problem that requires your kind of special attention. You were highly recommended.” He cleared his throat. “I would like to arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”
Olivia blinked, glanced around the neighborhood to ensure she hadn’t attracted any unnecessary attention. It wasn’t dark yet but the temperature had dropped significantly, making her shiver.
Or maybe it was the call sending that bone-cold chill rushing through her veins.
Sheara didn’t exist any more. How the hell had this guy gotten her old number? This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d kept that number for one reason only…
“Sheara? Are you there?” The caller cleared his throat again. “Maybe I have the wrong number.”
“No.” She said the word more sharply than she’d intended. “You have the right number.” What the hell did she do now? She was a psychologist, for Christ’s sake. She didn’t do this anymore.
Sheara was dead.
She’d been dead for three years.
She bit back the need to ask how he’d gotten her number. “Where would you like to meet?”
There was only one way to find out who this guy was and how he’d gotten her number. Meet him. Right now. Tonight. This couldn’t wait. Her heart rate climbed with each new realization.
“The location is your choice…right? That’s what I was told.”
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take another breath. He was right. She had to focus. “What’s your location? And I’ll need a name.” She tried to block the sound of her heart thundering, pumping blood so fast it roared in her ears. What was she doing? This could be a trap. But why? She’d been out of the business for three damn years. The woman she used to be was dead.
His hesitation told her he wasn’t too keen on the idea of giving his name or his location. “Ned…Soderbaum. Chicago.”
It was seven-thirty now. Approximately a three-hour flight. Assuming he could get one in the next hour, midnight would be the earliest meeting time.
“If you can get a flight—”
“My company has…I own a jet.”
Well, okay then. Flight scheduling wouldn’t be a problem. Where to meet? It wouldn’t be a good idea to have him come to Hollywood. Wait. What was she worried about? This was Los Angeles County, including Los Angeles, Beverly Hills and dozens of other mass-population centers. There was an endless supply of anonymous places to meet and far too many people to make her easy to single out.
“The pier at Santa Monica. Midnight.”
More hesitation. “How will I know you?”
“What will you be wearing?” she countered.
“Business suit…ah…navy.”
And you’ll stand out like