She was in love with him. Why had it taken her so long to admit it to herself? She’d known she’d cared for him, but she’d never let herself think about love. For so long she hadn’t even thought love was possible. Her views on the male gender had been tinged with cynicism, with pessimism, tainted by the memory of all the men who’d traipsed through her childhood home. Men didn’t want love. They wanted sex.
But not Travis. He’d proven to her that he wanted more from her than her body, that he respected her, and that he valued her mind as well as the physical pleasure she could offer him. He’d held her as she cried, reprimanded her when she allowed self-pity to consume her. He’d shown her that relationships were about giving as well as taking, and she knew, no matter how he felt about her in return, she’d always be grateful for that.
“Rachel? Why are you so quiet?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his husky voice. What was she supposed to answer? I’m quiet because I realized I love you? Could she really tell him how she felt? Could she risk the rejection that might follow?
“I’m just thinking about work,” she lied.
“Oh? Concocting some new designs in that pretty head of yours?” he teased.
Designs. Oh, no. She’d been so focused on this investigation, on Travis, that she’d forgotten she had a show next week. Though all of her designs were done, there were dozens of other arrangements that needed to be made. She had to decide on a final lineup for her models, speak to the coordinator in New York about the changes she’d made to the sleepwear line, contact Darin Mortensen to find out if he had received the early sketches she’d sent him.
“Damn, I can’t believe I forgot,” she said with a groan, fiddling with the seatbelt strap. “I have a show next week. There’s still so much that needs to be done.”
“Where’s the show?”
“New York.”
Travis gave her a sideways glance. “Maybe I’ll come with you. I have some personal time coming up.”
Her throat went dry. He wanted to go to New York with her? She had to wonder what that meant. In a few short minutes, their mystery might be solved, which meant he had no reason to see her next week. Unless he wanted to continue their relationship. Unless he…loved her?
“That sounds nice,” she said, her voice coming out in a squeak.
Travis slowed the car as he neared the address the hospital had given them. As he pulled into the driveway of the two-story redbrick home, he looked at her again.
“Rachel, when this is over…” His voice halted.
She watched him with imploring eyes. “Yes?”
“I want us to…I think we should…” He raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Damn it, I don’t even know where to start.”
Rachel resisted a smile. She’d never seen Travis struggle for words, and the vulnerability she saw in his eyes was endearing. “How about starting from the beginning?”
He took a breath. “I want us to…have a talk later.”
Disappointment welled up in her chest, but she simply nodded. Right now wasn’t the time to talk about their relationship, not when they were sitting in the driveway of the woman who might have the answers to Carrie’s death. The woman who was their last hope.
“Okay. We’ll talk later,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
She and Travis got out of the car, and began walking up the flowery front walk to the Forrester house. She took a moment to admire the colorful tulips and roses lining the cobblestone path, and wondered if she’d ever get the chance to live in such a wholesome place. Since she’d begun spending time with Travis, she’d started believing things like this were possible—a big house with a colorful yard, a little son or daughter running around, a husband. Would she ever have any of it? With Travis?
She kept her thoughts to herself as they stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell. A nervous feeling crept up her spine as they waited. Would Virginia Forrester know who Rachel was? Would she send her away?
Her questions were answered the second the heavy oak door swung open and the white-haired woman behind it gasped.
Taken off guard by Virginia’s odd reaction, Rachel cleared her throat. “Uh, Virginia Forrester? I’m—”
“Rachel.”
She swallowed back the nervous lump in her throat. “You know who I am?”
The older woman’s eyes softened, and Rachel saw regret in them. With a sad smile that caused the wrinkles around her mouth to deepen, Virginia held open the door. “Of course I know who you are. Come in, please.”
Rachel exchanged a glance with Travis before the two of them followed Virginia into the house. She led them into a spacious but cozy-looking living room, and gestured for them to sit on the blue and white flower-patterned sofa.
As she and Travis sat, Rachel said, “This is Travis Gage. He’s a…friend of mine.”
Virginia barely glanced at Travis as she replied, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Gage.” Her eyes remained focused on Rachel. “You look wonderful.”
Rachel wrinkled her forehead. The woman was acting as if they knew each other, but she’d never laid eyes on Virginia Forrester in her life. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?”