said goodbye and ended the call.
Linc leaned against his SUV and closed his eyes. Her voice…Lori’s voice.
His wife was alive.
Chapter Four
The house looked as bad as Mia remembered. The plaster was a real mess, more the walls than the molding. The ceilings had some bad areas, but fortunately the original wood floors were in considerably better condition. The windows and doors looked salvageable. Surprisingly, the two baths and the kitchen were in better condition than any other room, which was good considering they could suck up major bucks in a renovation.
“I can work with this,” she announced.
Reece nodded. “When can you start?”
Mia laughed. “Don’t you want to know my price first?” He’d followed her from room to room for the last half hour. He hadn’t said a word since the initial hello.
Surprise flashed across his face, but he quickly schooled the expression. “Mrs. Crist tells me your prices are fair.”
“Maybe so.” Mia didn’t know this man. She wanted no miscommunications between them. “But I’d feel more comfortable if we agreed upon a price first.”
He nodded his head. “Understandable.”
Mia chewed the inside of her cheek. Perhaps the price she’d mentally calculated was too low. No, it was fair. She wouldn’t jack up her price simply because he appeared prepared to pay whatever she named. This man was from out of town and clearly money was no issue, that was true. Still, right was right. She stated her price and prepared for his reaction.
“Sounds reasonable,” Reece said without hesitation or detectable reluctance.
“It’ll take some time,” she warned. “I have a couple of days left at the Dowe house.” Day and a half maybe. Better to give herself sufficient time than to risk not meeting a stated target date. “I’ll need at least two weeks here.”
Some aspect of her answer didn’t appear to sit well with him. A frown furrowed his brow. “Is it possible to work a couple of hours here each day while you finish up there?”
A frown of her own worried her forehead. “Are you on a deadline, Mr. Reece?”
“Linc.”
“Linc,” she echoed. His stare turned so intense that she suddenly felt uncomfortable alone with him. Knock it off, Mia. She squared her shoulders against the uneasiness. “You should call me Mia.”
“Mia.”
Silence thickened in the room as her senses absorbed the sound of her name on his lips. What was it about this man that made her feel so…restless?
“You…you have a deadline?” He hadn’t answered her question.
He crossed the parlor to the expanse of windows looking out over the well-manicured lawn. The city council required that properties in town, whether inhabited or not, be maintained on the outside. Overgrown and littered yards were bad for tourism as well as community pride.
“Time isn’t an issue,” he said, his back still turned to her. “I’m merely anxious to get started.”
That was true of most folks when they got their hearts set on a project. “I could maybe get a couple hours in tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pick up enough material to get started.”
He nodded. She noticed only because she was watching for a response. Her initial analysis of him had been right. Brooding. “Okay, then. See you tomorrow.” Tucking her notepad into her apron pocket, she started for the entry hall.
“Are you available for dinner this evening?”
Startled by the request, Mia paused. He was watching her. That was it, she realized. He didn’t really look at her. He watched her. Analyzed her. And it made her restless. “Dinner?”
“I’d like to discuss any recommendations you might have for the other work.”
She nodded. “Plumbing and electrical. And the floors.”
“Is that a yes to dinner?”
He moved closer, his posture oddly rigid. That restlessness she’d been experiencing picked up its pace, making her pulse quicken. Was he trying to intimidate her or was this just his way?
“Blossom Café?” she proposed. It was a safe choice. She knew the folks who ran the café and she would know all the patrons. Her little bungalow was only a couple of blocks away. It was perfect.
“Eight?”
He was definitely from the city, she thought. “Around here we call it supper and it’s around six.”
Why did he stare at her that way? Every response came after a considerable delay.
“Six, then.”
More of that breath-stealing silence followed.
Suppressing that danged uneasiness, she tacked a smile into place. “See you then.”
Mia turned toward her original destination. This time he didn’t stop her. She walked out the door and straight to her old truck. The safety and familiarity of it felt like a balm to her frayed nerves. More than forty years old and a little beat-up, the truck served her purposes just fine. A handy toolbox was mounted in the back and a smaller, handheld version waited in the cab. She liked her truck and she liked her life.
Feeling out of sorts wasn’t the norm for her, at least not in a really long time. Back during her recovery there had been a lot of days filled with pain and uncertainty. Feelings of loss that she hadn’t been able to fully measure or articulate. But those days were long gone.
As Mia slid behind the wheel of her trusty truck she caught a glimpse of Mr. Reece watching her from the broad parlor window.
Doubt slipped up on her. Maybe she’d made a mistake agreeing to work for him. There was something very odd about Lincoln Reece. He exhumed frailties she hadn’t suffered in years.
Mia shook her head. You’re making too much of this, girl. She laughed. This was Blossom. Bad things never happened here. That was just another reason why she loved it so very much. It was also why her uncle had brought her here after her release from those long, long months of rehabilitation.
This was home now.
Safe. Reliable. Calm.
LINC COULDN’T MOVE.
He’d made that mistake when he’d asked her about dinner. The closer he’d gotten to her the more his control had dwindled. He’d wanted to grab her and shake her. To demand that she admit that Mia Grant was not her name.
She was Lori…his wife.
Relief, elation and anticipation infused his blood with yearning. He felt it all the way to the core of his being.
The junker of a pickup eased away from the curb. When it had disappeared down the tree-lined street, Linc left the window and surveyed the parlor. There was a lot of work to be done. That would buy him some time. But there were other pressing issues to be considered.
How had Lori gotten here?
Who had rescued her after the explosion on the yacht? More importantly, how had she been rescued? Not that Linc wasn’t grateful, but this was no act of a Good Samaritan. Her rescue had sinister origins. Otherwise her identity would have been tracked down and her next of kin—her husband—contacted.
As right as finding her felt, the circumstances were wrong, way wrong.
Blossom Café, 6:00 p.m.
SHE WAITED AT A TABLE in the center of the small café. For a minute or so Linc studied her. He’d already done a lot of that. It wasn’t smart to risk her catching him yet again. He sensed she was suspicious already, but he couldn’t help himself.