Page 68 of Untouchable
She couldn’t do anything but weep until she finally cried herself to sleep like a child.
Through it all, Caleb didn’t say anything, and she never looked up at his face. She had no way to read him, no way to understand what he was thinking, why he was doing this. Whether it was a random flicker of his humanity or he was putting clues together in a way that would ultimately find her out.
He was gone when she woke up the next morning.
And, staring at his rumpled side of the bed with bleary, aching eyes, Kelly wondered if she could have dreamed the whole thing.
15
The next day,Kelly went to meet with a new client. It was the first client she’d seen in almost a month.
She felt like her entire life was on hold until she finished this thing with Caleb, but she’d told him that she wanted to start getting her life back in order and he would expect her to follow through.
One part of that would be to get her business going again, so she’d touched base with the two clients she’d had in progress, and she’d even managed to line up this new one.
The meeting went well. The retired woman seemed to like her and the sketches she’d made of her treasured pet Pekingese. They went over a schedule, plan, and budget for getting the portrait done, and Kelly headed back to Caleb’s place, relieved the meeting was over so she could focus again on Caleb… and what she needed to do.
During a break, she called up Jack Martin to get an update. He told her he’d planted a few clues about her possible connection to Russians in Brighton Beach, just so Caleb would believe he was on the right track. She’d told him about the filesshe’d copied and sent them to him so he could have someone go through them. He ended by telling her to be careful.
She would have liked to talk to Jack more often, but she was worried about Caleb finding out. She’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d appeared out of nowhere in that dressing room. She didn’t want to risk anything like that happening again.
There was no way she was going to risk revealing herself. Not after she’d gotten so far.
When she arrived back at Caleb’s place, it was after seven in the evening, and he was already home.
She found him in his office, where he was predictably working on his computer.
“How did it go?” he asked, turning away from the email he was writing at her knock on the door.
“Good. She likes my ideas.”
“Did it feel good to get back into working?” His eyes were thoughtful and observant.
“I guess so. It was a little weird, to tell you the truth. It feels like so much has happened since I last painted a portrait. Like I’m almost a different person.”
The words were true. She could hardly remember the person she’d been before she’d met Caleb in the park.
“I’m sure it will feel more familiar once you get back into it. Were you nervous about being out?”
“A little. It felt like someone might be watching around every corner.”
“That’s why the bodyguard is there. He won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Yeah, but it’s weird to go around with a bodyguard too.”
He frowned deeply. “I don’t care if it’s weird. This guy sent thugs after you once. What’s going to stop him from doing it again? You need protection.”
“I know. I appreciate it. It just feels strange.” As they’d talked, she’d been drifting toward his desk, and now she leaned back against the edge. “Is everything okay with work?” She nodded toward the computer.
“Yeah. The emails just never end.” He sighed and smiled at her tiredly, rubbing his neck. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
She saw the expression change on his face as he scanned her from head to toe. “You have your work clothes on, I see.”
She wore another long, flowing skirt with a lacy, bohemian top. Her hair was pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. She smiled at his expression. “Got to give the clients what they want.”
“Are your clients the only ones you give what they want?”
