Mary Burton - Wise Moves

“Mr. Cambia, welcome to the studio.” Her voice was soft, hesitant, no hint of an accent.

“Thanks, ma’am.”

She took a step back. “Sheridan said she gave you a tour yesterday.”

“Yeah. I missed you.” He’d been disappointed because he’d missed Kristen by seconds. In fact, he’d seen her walking down the street away from the studio. She’d been going to lunch and running errands for Sheridan.

“I usually get the middle of the day off.” She didn’t elaborate.

He smiled, projecting a relaxed appearance that was as fake as the accent. “Oh, no worries.”

Kristen glanced toward the rooms Sheridan wanted renovated. “You know what needs to be done?”

“Oh, I sure do, ma’am. Sheridan told me.”

She smiled and to his surprise his gut tightened a notch. Elena or not, this woman was a stunner. Her soft brown eyes reminded him that he’d been alone for a long time.

“Then I’ll let you get to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

He moved into the first room off the reception area. Like the one it connected to, this room was very small and unusable for anything more than storage. Sheridan wanted to knock out a wall between the rooms and turn the spaces into one large room. He flipped on the light.

Dane had done carpentry work with his foster father when he’d been a kid. The old man had made his living building houses and often took Dane and Nancy along to help.

“So have you been at the studio long?” He kept his voice even.

Kristen went behind the counter and turned on the computer. Beside the computer was a stack of blue forms that needed to be logged in. “Not that long.”

He made a point of not looking directly at her when he spoke. A direct, assessing gaze signaled a predator for most women. “How do you like Lancaster Springs so far?”

“It’s great.”

Dane hated small talk, but it was necessary. “So Sheridan is about to be an aunt?”

The mention of the baby had her relaxing more. “Her sister went into labor early this morning. She’s two weeks early. Sheridan had hoped to be here to supervise the project.”

“Ah, my brother and his wife have five kids,” he lied. “They are a wild bunch, but good kids. Every one is a joy. Does Sheridan’s sister know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

The remaining tension in her face faded. “Girl.”

“They pick a name?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Now that was odd. Women usually asked about that kind of stuff. Nancy always had. But it made sense. She didn’t want to connect with anyone in case she had to take off soon.

He moved toward the desk. His six-foot-two frame loomed over her. Immediately, he sensed his height made her nervous, so he stepped back to allow her more space. It wouldn’t do to spook her before he got a positive ID on her.

He glanced into the studio off the reception area. Soft recessed lights shone on thick carpet, a pile of rolled up mats and a stack of blankets. “So you into this yoga stuff?”

“I just started taking it from Sheridan.”

He scratched his head. “I don’t know a darn thing about yoga. But it seems a little odd to be stretching your body in every direction. For me a workout involves sweat.”

She laughed at that. “There’s more to it than you realize.”

“You look like you could be a teacher. What do you need, a license?”

“Centeredness.”

“What’s that?”

She shrugged. “The ability to push the outside world from your mind and focus on one thing.”

So she was distracted. Interesting. He shifted his gaze back to the room that would be reconstructed. “So what are Sheridan’s grand plans for this place after I’ve made it beautiful?” He knew he was supposed to be knocking down a wall, painting and building shelves.

“Sheridan wants to turn the room and the one connected to it into a tearoom slash boutique. She wants to be able to sell more yoga supplies—mats, clothes, chimes and eye pillows.”

He leaned against the doorjamb. “Sounds like a smart business lady.”

“She is.”

He pulled a notepad from his back hip pocket. “Sheridan said there are no more classes until Monday and I can get started on demolition today. She also said you’d be sticking around in case I needed anything.”

Again, the bright smile, which he sensed was genuine. “I’ll be here.”

He liked Kristen and he hoped she wasn’t Elena. Once Elena realized why he’d come, she’d despise him.

“I could use a hand with the debris removal. It’s not heavy work.” He wanted to keep her close until Lucian made the ID. “I can pay ten bucks an hour.”

Kristen’s eyes widened at the extra-high wage. For an instant she looked tempted, and then she shook her head. “Thanks, but I work for Sheridan.”

Loyal. That was very un-Elena. “So you stop and answer the phone when it rings. What else are you going to do this week?”

She glanced at the desk and the pile of unfolded flyers and empty envelopes. “I have brochures to get in the mail and registrations to enter.”

“How long is that gonna take?”

She hesitated. “Four or five hours.”

“You can do that in the evenings. Help me and earn some extra money.”

She tapped her finger on the reception desk. “Doesn’t that cut into your profits?”

Damn, but she was a cautious one. “The faster I get this job done, the better impression I make. I want Sheridan as a reference so I can build business in the area.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Your offer is very tempting—”

“I pay in cash at the end of each day,” he said quickly before she could say no.

Her eyes brightened. Ah, there was the magic word—cash. She couldn’t be pulling down much here. And if she were living on the run, she’d need all the cash she could scrape together.

“Okay.”

Dane grinned. He held out his hand. “Then it’s a deal?”

Reluctantly she took his hand. “It’s a deal.”

He held her hand an extra beat and then released it. “Great.”

She pulled her hand free. “When do you want to get started?”

He shrugged. “No time like the present.”

She nodded. “I’ll just change.”

“Perfect.”

Without a word, he watched her dash up the back staircase.

Last night he’d been watching the place. He’d caught a glimpse of her trim body on the second floor before she’d closed the shades. Her living here would make her easier to monitor tonight. Easier to contain.

Today he’d get her fingerprints and give them to Lucian.

Tomorrow Lucian would confirm her ID.

He hoped she wasn’t Elena Benito. Kristen Rodale struck him as a good person. And he didn’t want to drag her into his dark world.

But if Kristen turned out to be Elena, he’d set aside whatever warm feelings he had.

He was going to catch Benito. No matter who he had to use.

Wednesday, May 16, 1:25 p.m.

Kristen pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a white T-shirt. She neatly folded the yoga pants and top that Sheridan had given her and put both in her knapsack, which she always kept packed.

Her movements were deliberate, slow, a holdover from her days growing up with her brother. He hated disorganization and sloppiness and he’d expected her to be perfect. Her hand slid to her cheek as she remembered a time when he hit her so hard she’d have sworn her teeth had rattled in her head. He’d been angry that day because she’d left her shoes out in the middle of her bedroom. He’d tripped on them when he’d come into her room to wish her well in school. But the stinging red mark he’d left on her face had meant she couldn’t go to school that day or the next. She’d been fifteen years old.