Undeniably Yours by Heather Webber Read Free Book Online Page B

talking on the phone?” I asked.
    “One syllable at a time.”
    I sighed. “I thought Dovie confiscated your phone.”
    “I found it,” she said. “You’re not the only one with locating skills.”
    I could picture her tucked into bed, her blond hair spiked, her cheeks flushed, and a scowl on her face. “Dovie wants to watch ballroom dancing.”
    “Fun!” I said, trying to sound like I meant it.
    “I might have to fling myself into the ocean.”
    “It’s not that bad.”
    “I want to come back,” Preston said shrilly.
    “Think of the baby. You need to rest. To relax. Heal.”
    She didn’t say anything.
    “You don’t want another visit from Dr. Paul, do you?” I said, pulling out the big guns.
    Preston had nicknamed Dr. Paul McDermott, one of the Whiners, Dr. Death. She thought he might be a serial killer. Her stance hadn’t softened, even though he’d saved her and the baby’s life.
    “Fine,” she said. “But I’m not happy about it.”
    She hung up.
    I glanced at Aiden. “She’s having a great time.”
    His lip twitched—almost a smile. “Sounds like it.”
    As we blended into the foot traffic on the sidewalk, the cloying scent of smoke stubbornly clung to the humid air, even though the city’s fires had been extinguished. The warm breeze did nothing to dispel the scent, seeming only to spread it around.
    What we needed was a good soaking rain to wash away the thin layer of ash that seemed to cover the city like an unwanted smelly topcoat and replace the acrid smoke with normal summery scents around these parts. Wisteria, salty sea air, watermelon…diesel fuel. I’d gladly take even the latter right now.
    The television station’s private parking garage was only a three-minute walk, but I managed to break a sweat during the trek there, and my skirt was starting to stick to my legs. A young black man sat in a booth lodged between matching swinging gates that allowed vehicles entrance and exit from the surprisingly airy structure. He watched us warily as we approached.
    I imagined he didn’t get too many walk-up customers.
    A box fan on high speed whirred noisily behind him as he leaned out of a narrow window and said, “Can I help you? Need something?”
    Aiden flashed his badge. “Are you Danny Beckley?”
    “Nope. Over there.” He jerked his hand toward a glass-walled office off to one side, tucked neatly into a concrete wall. Fluorescent lights flooded the space, glinting off the bald head of a man staring intently at his computer screen.
    “Thanks,” Aiden said, then looked back at me as he navigated the curbs and gates to make sure I was managing the obstacle course.
    I was, but not without a couple of grunts and choice curse words beneath my breath.
    Aiden’s sharp knock on the closed steel door lifted Danny Beckley’s gaze from the computer monitor. He motioned us inside, and Aiden stepped back to allow me to go in first. Air-conditioned gusts immediately cooled my heated cheeks. It took everything in me to fight the urge to stand in front of the unit with my arms over my head.
    Beckley rose and held out his meaty hand to me. “Ms. Rodriguez called down to tell me you were coming. Danny Beckley.”
    I eyed his hand as warily as his attendant had eyed us only moments ago. Seeing no other option, I balanced my body weight to let go of my crutch. “Lucy Valentine.”
    As our palms touched, nothing flashed behind my eyes, and I thanked my lucky stars. As Aiden introduced himself, I quickly sat in a metal chair and almost yelped as my legs touched the cold steel. It had to be sixty degrees in here, and goose bumps quickly rose on my arms. My body didn’t quite know how to take the quick change in temperature.
    Aiden sat next to me, and Beckley slid back into his chair, which squeaked under his weight. About fifty, Beckley had narrow-set eyes, plump cheeks, and one of the friendliest smiles I’d ever seen.
    Beckley said, “Strangest thing with Ms. Fitzpatrick—or Ms. Fitz as