Live in Person Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Praise for the LIVE series

  Also by Lynda Fitzgerald

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Praise for LIVE in Person

  “Fitzgerald is such a master at building believable characters that it makes you wish you could sit down and have a beer with them… suspense, romance, family tension, friendship and even an adorable little puppy! A must read if you enjoy diving into and losing yourself in a good book.”

  —Cindy Mommer, Editor

  “Fitzgerald’s LIVE series is so engaging and intriguing that she can’t possibly publish the next novel fast enough. I’m hooked. Give me more now.”

  —Kerry Alan Denney, author of SOULSNATCHER

  “As with the two earlier books in this series, I couldn’t put this one down! Suspenseful, funny and a love story, all wrapped in one!”

  —Chris Hebert

  Praise for the LIVE Series

  LIVE Ammo “Talented Lynda Fitzgerald provides an exciting journalistic investigative mystery that has an Ann Rule true crime feel… LIVE Ammo is an exciting thriller that deserves to be on the bestsellers lists.”

  —Harriett Klausner, Mid-West Book Review

  “A fascinating read. I could not put this one down.”

  ­—Terry South, Quality Book Reviews

  “An altogether great read. A delightful mix of romance, thriller and mystery will keep most readers riveted for hours.”

  —Olivera Baumgartner-Jackson, Reader Views

  “Lynda Fitzgerald has written another page-turning, intriguing mystery. LIVE Ringer is the kind of thriller that makes your palms sweat, your mouth dry, and makes you just a little bit afraid to read it when you’re home alone. LIVE Ringer is the best and most intriguing thriller I’ve read in a long time. I hated to put it down.”

  —Vicky DeCoster, Author of Husbands, Hot Flashes, and All That Hullabaloo! and The Wacky World of Womanhood

  “LIVE Ringer is a fascinating, nail-biting read. Allie is a wonderful character—and so is her dead aunt. Lynda Fitzgerald has told a spell-binding story, complete with good people with dark secrets, with compassion and great skill.”

  —Alice Duncan, Author of Hungry Spirits

  “Fast-paced and eerie, LIVE Ringer kept me guessing. Fitzgerald tells a fine yarn, indeed, and peoples her story with characters who are both endearing and exasperating – rather like life itself.”

  –Fran Stewart, author of the Biscuit McKee mysteries and A Slaying Song Tonight

  Allie Grainger from Lynda Fitzgerald’s LIVE series is a character I’d like to get to know in real life. She’s warm, funny, and spirited. Lynda Fitzgerald’s skill at storytelling will pull you into Allie’s world and you’ll be hooked.

  —Brittany Koren, Editor at Written Dreams

  Also by Lynda Fitzgerald

  LIVE Ringer

  LIVE Ammo

  If Truth Be Told

  Of Words & Music

  An Irreconcilable Difference

  LIVE in Person

  by Lynda Fitzgerald

  Published by Crystal Dreams Press

  6 Old Colony Dr.,Whitby, ON. Canada

  http://www.crystaldreamspress.com/

  Copyright © 2013 by Lynda Fitzgerald

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Any reference to living people or organizations is purely coincidental.

  Book Design: Carolyn Prior

  Cover Design: Nicolle Brown Designs

  Paperback

  ISBN-13: 9780971565821

  ebook

  ISBN-13: 9781591462941

  Published in Canada. Printed simultaneously in the United States of America, the United Kingdom, and Australia.

  CIP data available from the publisher.

  Acknowledgments

  A special thanks to my daughter, Nikki—you make me proud.

  And to my critique group. You keep me humble.

  And finally to Cindy Mommer for faith, friendship, and all your stellar editing work.

  I’m grateful to you all.

  The Promise

  He knew how to terrorize; it was what he did best. Some people were born to heal, some to lead. He was born to strike fear in those who crossed him. He’d studied the art in childhood and perfected it during his years as a cop. Now, he was a cop in jail, but not for long.

  Allie Grainger. The name tasted sour on his tongue, but his thoughts of revenge rendered it almost sweet. Because of her, he’d lost everything. Now, Allie Grainger would lose—everything.

  ■ ■ ■

  One

  Allie felt like a schoolgirl going to her first dance—except she was thirty years old, divorced, and she did not intend to dance with this man, at least not vertically. Her cheeks burned at the thought, but not from embarrassment. Rand Arbutten was hot.

  For months, they’d tried to get together. From that first kiss in her kitchen last August, they knew they’d end up in bed. Even Rand’s seventyyear-old grandmother Frenchie knew they’d end up in bed, but so far, it was no-go. Something or someone—his schedule, her schedule, her friends, his family—always intervened. Then, his law firm sent him to New York for eight weeks, something about multiple depositions and interviews in some big case he was working on. They’d had a number of steamy conversations during his absence, but that’s as far as it had gone.

  Rand lived and worked fifty miles west in Orlando, which didn’t make it any easier, but as he said, “What’s fifty miles of good road?” He spent two days a month as a figurehead at the newspaper where Allie worked, but that only complicated things. Everyone at the paper seemed to know what they had in mind and, intentionally or unintentionally, managed to thwart them. Even Myrna, her friend and acting editor, wasn’t cooperating this time.

  Allie had spent the past Christmas with Rand, his father Cord Arbutten, and Grandmother Frenchie, but that was in a family setting not conducive to grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to bed, tempted though she was. Although Frenchie would have applauded them. Cord, too, probably.

  She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a bath sheet. Nothing would ruin today. Rand was in town for twenty-four hours, and she planned to spend twenty-three of them with him in bed. That would give them an hour to eat so they could keep up their strength.

  Silky pink undies, a semitransparent pink peasant blouse. Deep burgundy Capris and matching toenails. No shoes. She didn’t plan to be on her feet for long. She laughed aloud. Could it really be happening? Could today be the day?

  She had it all orchestrated: a slow walk on the beach, a bottle of Chablis on ice for when they returned. Music—something sexy with plenty of saxophone. Maybe a little Sade. Fresh, scented sheets on the bed. She’d even fed and walked Spook hours early so he wouldn’t be needy once Rand arrived. Her cowardly Lhasa Apso would probably disappear to his favorite hiding spot behind the living room sofa when Rand got there and not emerge until after he left, but it didn’t pay to leave these things to chance.

  A spritz of Jo Malone 154, a splurge on her last visit home to Atlanta where her mother dragged her to Nordstrom’s. Allie had paled when she learned the price, but her mother told her it was time to ratchet up her self-esteem, and for once,
Allie agreed. Besides, with all the money her aunt had left her, she could afford it.

  Rand told her the scent made his knees weak. She smiled. All the better.

  Her best friend Sheryl probably wouldn’t barge in. Her hours were erratic as a sheriff’s deputy, and Allie hadn’t seen her in more than a week. No, today and tonight belonged to Rand and her.

  As she walked into the living room, she heard tires crunch to a stop in her oyster-shell driveway, and the breath whooshed out of her lungs. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she were a sixteen-year-old virgin, although at the moment, that’s exactly how she felt.

  She restrained herself from racing to the door and flinging it wide, but it was a near thing. When she saw Rand’s outline through the frosted jalousies, her heart hiccupped. Even though it was January, sweat broke out on various parts of her body. God, she was a mess! Frenchie was right. It was high time they got this over with so they could begin to behave like normal human beings again.

  She counted five after he knocked before opening the door. They stood, regarding each other, Rand big, dark, and tall on her puny front stoop, Allie drinking in everything about him, from his tight jeans to his narrow waist and broad chest to the stunned look on his face.

  “Jesus,” he whispered. “You look sexy as hell.”

  “So do you,” Allie managed before he stepped through the door and closed it with his foot. She heard the deadbolt click as he reached for her with the other arm. Then, it was a tangle of clothed limbs, murmured words, and pure sensation. She heard “God, I’ve wanted to…” and “waited so long…” and half-heard many other phrases, but she didn’t care what he said at the moment. It was all about the doing.

  His lips came down on hers. His hand slipped under the back of her loose blouse—the primary reason she’d worn it—and caressed her skin. She ran her hands over his face, his neck, and pulled him closer.

  After what seemed seconds or hours, he said, “Whoa. Wait.” His breathing was ragged. “Give me a minute here.”

  Allie didn’t even have enough breath to gasp. She stared up at him. He ran his hands up and down her arms and gulped in several breaths. “Not yet. Not this way.”

  Allie looked up at him in confusion. When she could form words, she said, “Then when? And how?”

  That brought a strained laugh from him. “Soon. Today, I mean, but this isn’t how I want our first time to be. Flying clothes and groping hands. I want it to be—Oh, hell, forget it.” He crushed her against him again, and his lips came down on hers.

  This time, Allie pulled back. “Wait.” She put her hands against his chest. “Wait,” she gasped. “You’re right. It should be memorable.”

  He pulled her to him again, his embrace looser. “It’ll be memorable. I can promise you that.”

  Allie felt her blood pressure soar into the stratosphere. She managed to bite back the “No, now,” that sprang to her lips, but he was right. She, too, wanted this to be the ultimate romantic experience.

  Allie averted her eyes. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. At least Spook would be a topic of conversation, but as usual, he was nowhere in sight. “Where is he?”

  “Who?” Rand seemed almost back in control.

  Allie envied him. “Spook. My dog.”

  “I saw him run behind the couch when I came in. Not much of a watchdog, is he?”

  Allie stiffened. “He was abused. He can’t help it.”

  Rand grinned. “I wasn’t criticizing your pup, Allie. Not all dogs are watchdogs. It doesn’t make them any less lovable.”

  “Do you like dogs?” It stunned her that she was ready to jump in bed with the man, but didn’t know the answer to this question. Suddenly, it was important to her that he did.

  He shrugged. “I never had one when I was growing up, of course. No pets allowed at a military academy.”

  Allie winced. Rand’s father, Sheriff Cord Arbutten, had put Rand in a military school when he was twelve and threatening to turn into a juvenile delinquent. It had almost destroyed their relationship permanently, but it turned Rand around. Witness an honest attorney. What could be more rare?

  “But we always had a few strays around campus,” he said. “We fed them and played with them. So, yeah, I like dogs—a lot.”

  Allie felt a smile split her face. “Good.” She wasn’t raised around animals, either. Her mother maintained they were filthy beasts with fleas and who knew what else crawling all over them. Allie knew that Spook was clean, and she’d never seen so much as a black speck on him. “Me too. Now.”

  After that, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Rand stood there staring at her. She began to regret that she’d worn the nearly transparent blouse.

  Finally, he spoke. “Would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”

  She couldn’t believe it. That was supposed to be her line.

  ■ ■ ■

  Rand held her hand as they descended the woo-den steps to the beach. Her backyard—the Atlantic Ocean in all its glory. He kicked off his shoes at the bottom of the stairs and draped an arm loosely across her shoulders. She put her arm around his waist as if they’d been doing this for years. The beach was almost deserted, compliments of winter and the early hour. The sun worshipers were still donning their bikinis, and the snowbirds usually slept late.

  Winter or not, the sand felt sun-hot under their bare feet, the water warmer than the air. They said little. The moment was too pure to sully it with words. The slap and hiss of the waves set their leisurely pace, and Allie knew she’d never been happier.

  When they reached the Cape Canaveral jetty, they turned and retraced their path, footprint into sandy footprint. Theirs were the only tracks, but that would change soon. The condos springing up on either side of her tiny house would soon be completed. Then, an extra few hundred or so people would share her little stretch of paradise. She didn’t know how she would bear to sell her aunt’s house, but…

  “I’ve told you before, Allie. Sell the thing.”

  Her Aunt Lou had been dead for almost a year, but they had these conversations in Allie’s head. They began when she returned to Cape Canaveral, and at first, Allie believed it was her imagination, a product of desperately wanting a little more time with Lou. But enough things had happened that she was now convinced they communicated. Their talks were infrequent and brief, but they gave Allie a measure of comfort.

  “Honey, it’s only a house.”

  “It’s not only a house; it’s your house. It’s all I have left.”

  “That’s not true. You have our memories, a lifetime of memories. I left them in trust for you. Those are what count, Allie. Not things.”

  “God, I miss you.”

  “Who?”

  Allie blinked. Had she spoken aloud? She almost didn’t answer. Rand once thought her aunt had caused the breakup of his parents. He knew better now, but was he ready to hear about Allie’s ghost? She’d mentioned these talks with her aunt once to Marc Frederick, her former boyfriend who lived in Miami. Marc had humored her and dismissed what she said. Allie never mentioned it to him or anyone else again.

  “My aunt,” she offered. Let him ask if he wanted to know more.

  He did. “Tell me about her. I know you worshipped her.”

  Allie leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’re right. I did.”

  He took her hand, and she squeezed his fingers.

  “She was so inherently kind and wise. With a family like mine, that meant a lot to me. She was honest almost to a fault. She lived her life her way and didn’t care what others thought.” Allie shook her head. “That’s not true. She did care, but she didn’t let it make her crazy.”

  He stopped. “Like you do?”

  She lifted her chin. Then, she chanced a peek at him and saw his lips twitch. She smiled.

  They continued to walk. “I talk to her sometimes.” She waited for his derision.

  “You mean have actual conversations?”

  “Yes.”


  “What do you talk about?”

  Allie looked up to see if he was humoring her, but all she saw was curiosity and decided to take a chance. “It’s never the same thing twice. Just now, we were talking about my selling the house.”

  Rand stopped in his tracks. “You mean right now? Just a second ago while we were talking?”

  Allie laughed. “Not while we were talking. While we were walking and not talking. She thinks I should sell the house.”

  “You mean the house you’re living in now?”

  Allie nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because of all the condos springing up on the beach. It’s not going to be the same.”

  He walked along for a moment in silence. “She’s right, you know.”

  “I know she’s right, but it’s hard. It’s something of hers. I don’t have much left.”

  Rand pulled her close and tightened his grip. “Of course, you do. You have the memories of all the years you spent with her. Those are what count.”

  Allie smiled. Great minds.

  Rand leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “You’re wonderful, you know?”

  Allie put her arms around his waist. “Why do you say that?”

  “A million different reasons. You’re beautiful.”

  “You think so?”

  He pulled her closer. “Stop fishing. You know damn well I think so.” He stroked her back. “You’re determined. I love that. And…” His lips came down on hers hard. Allie went lightheaded. She clutched him tightly to stay on her feet.

  Wolf whistles from above caused them to jump apart. Allie squinted up into the sun and saw workers hanging off a half-completed building. Some waved their hands or caps. Others seemed to be making gestures of some kind. Her face burned.

  Paradise, indeed. “Let’s go,” she said, taking Rand’s hand.

  Back at the house, they brushed the sand off their feet as best they could and let themselves in the back door. Allie started toward the kitchen and the wine, but Rand took her shoulder and turned her around.

  Allie caught her breath at the intensity in his eyes. He rested his hands gently on her shoulders. “I don’t quite know how to say this, but…” He stared at some spot over her head, and then looked back at her. “Allie, I’ve never known a woman who appealed to me the way you do. It’s not just your physical beauty. I mean, hell, there’s plenty of that, but you’re so much more. I don’t know how to say it.”