Lethal Journey by Kim Cresswell Page B

interested
in marriage or children. Only a companion.
    In other words,
just sex. She slammed the cup down on the office desk, tea splashed
across the Yankees sweatshirt she wore.
    The chime of
the grandfather clock from the living room forced her back to
reality. She closed the laptop lid, and ran to the bathroom to
prepare for dinner at the Four Season’s with her father.
    With ease, she
twisted and tucked her long chestnut colored hair to create an
elegant up-do. Rays of light reflected down from the Pueblo design
fixture high above the oval mirror. Hidden within the antique
makeup tray, she found her lip pencil and lined her lips. Next, she
added her favorite shade of hot pink lipstick to enhance her fair
skin. Midnight black mascara over her lashes, and her makeup was
complete.
    After hunting
through the walk-in closet, she pulled out a classic black dress
she’d bought last week. Perched on the edge of the canopy bed she
dressed, and then slipped on three-inch black heels, careful not to
snag her stockings.
    Six long chimes
from the clock blared through the house.
    Her gaze darted
to the dresser. Dozens of perfume bottles, atomizers and Victorian
powder boxes covered the cherry wood top. She chose a fragrance,
dabbed a little behind her ears, down her neck and inside both
wrists. A rich bouquet of roses, sweet powder, and lily of the
valley surrounded her.
    Lucy
barked.
    Lauren smoothed
her dress over her hips and quickly checked herself in the mirror
before heading into the hallway.
    “It’s okay,
Lucy.” At Lauren’s words the chubby dog stopped barking and
sat.
    Through the
living room bay window, Lauren watched the black Jaguar pull in the
driveway and park. Before her father had a chance to knock, she
flung the door open and smiled at him. He was dressed in a charcoal
gray suit and crisp white shirt. He carried a bouquet of long stem
yellow roses.
    “For me?”
Lauren asked.
    His eyes lit
and he handed her the flowers. “Happy birthday, babygirl.” He
patted Lucy on the top of the head.
    The dog wagged
her tail and bounced up and down, determined to play.
    “My favorite.
Thanks.” Lauren kissed his cheek. “Come on. I’ll put these in some
water.”
    As she leaned
against the kitchen counter and unwrapped the flowers, her father
stood in front of the oak French doors that led to the cobblestone
patio. She left the roses on the counter and pushed open the patio
doors.
    Her gaze
wandered over the lavish green lawns with gardens scattered
throughout. “My pride and joy.” Parasol lights lit the huge lawn,
abundant spotlights illuminated the multi-hued gardens.
    “Incredible.
Did you add more roses? Those huge yellow ones over there?” He
pointed to the oval garden on the left of the patio.
    “Yeah. Sun
Flares. They smell like licorice.”
    A grin crossed
his lips. “Hey, remember your tenth birthday?”
    Of course she
did. Every birthday since her brother Jamie died, her father made
each birthday count. Grown up fancy dinners at ritzy restaurants,
extravagant gala parties and trips around the world.
    “How could I
forget England? Stately homes, castles and abbeys, wandering
through the lush countryside and those impeccable gardens. That’s
where I got my inspiration. I’d love to go again.”
    Her father
smiled. “Ever thought about getting into the landscaping
business?”
    Lauren laughed.
“No thanks. I’ll stick to being a prosecutor like you.”
    A gust of hot
humid air brushed against her face. To the west, dark storm clouds
built over the city as muffled thunder rumbled through the thick
night air.
    “We’re in for a
good storm by the looks of it.”
    “I think you’re
right,” her father said.
    She patted him
on the shoulder and walked back to the counter to cut the roses.
“Take a look at the living room. I finally finished redecorating
last weekend.”
    From the open
concept kitchen she watched him look around the room. Honey faux
finished walls warmed the room, cherry wood floors