Forbidden With Me - Leigh Lennon Page 0,64

many watching her every move.

Chapter 22

Malia

Art History has always been a fascination of mine, and here I sit, in my first college-level class, listening about my favorite piece of art, David. I’m a sponge, absorbing everything as my mind focuses on Michelangelo and more of his paintings and sculptures. A familiar aroma overtakes my nose, and when I twist my head to the right, Wells occupies a seat in the huge auditorium lecture hall.

“What the hell?” I whisper. Not only are two plainclothes policemen flanking the entrance of the lecture hall but I also have Kenzie, the female cop, standing as if she’ll hurt anyone who gets within five feet of me.

I’d been met before my class by the dean of students, my advisor, and this particular instructor. They assured me all my professors were aware of my entourage, and they were doing everything to ensure my safety. Not only did I have some of Seattle’s finest but several campus security were also hanging around me. I wager to guess they’ll be everywhere I go.

Now, after one day of showering with this man, I have his aftershave burned into my memory as a scowl forms on his handsome face. The subject of the murders, like I had avoided like the talk about the birds and bees by my aunt Mally, must be the reason he’s back in my presence after not only two hours apart.

“We’ll talk later. Just pay attention,” he demands.

He can’t be real right now. He’s technically put a large flashing sign reading, Don’t look. And you know you can’t help but look.

I twist my watch around on my wrist. Five more minutes of lecture, and although I love Michelangelo, I won’t be able to concentrate, not anymore.

I pack up my binder, push it into my backpack, and scoot out of the back seat of the chair as everyone cranes their necks back to watch.

In the bright sun of a late summer day, I stand close to Wells on one of the many pathways leading from building to building.

“Please be straight with me?” I beg. The plain clothed officers are still watching every move I make though all I want is his comforting arms around me.

“Shit. This is going to be hard. But I really need you to think.”

I’m lost in his bright aquamarine eyes. “As long as I’m here with you, I’ll be okay,” I whisper for only him to hear.

“Your perfume, how long have you used it?” His question is out of left field, and I’m caught off guard.

“I don’t wear perfume. But I use body butter, then an after shower spray. I guess, that would make it seem like I wear it, but why are you asking?”

“What are the scents of your body butter and after shower spray?”

This line of questioning is odd, but I answer him anyway. “I’ve been using a coconut body butter and a vanilla cinnamon spray.”

His eyes flash in an anger I’ve never seen, not like this. “How long have you worn it?” He almost barks the question at me.

“Let’s see.” I think, counting back. “The spray of vanilla cinnamon, probably for five or six years. It’s all I’ve ever used. But I found this coconut butter at a health store before leaving Oregon. It’s thicker than lotion, and as a matter of fact, I started wearing it the first day back in Seattle. But surely, you smelled that this morning, right?”

“Yes, I have. It was the first thing that swirled through my senses, the day I picked you up as you cried into Jules’s body.”

This causes me to smile, but as soon as I have the urge to throw my arms around him, the doors from the various buildings fly open, and my mind clears. “So why did you want to know about my perfume?” I ask.

I’m expecting so many different replies. But when he says, “The murderer has been close enough to you that he described how you smelled.” This is not what I’m expecting.

Am I being selfish? These thoughts rattle through my mind while my English professor drones on about the syllabus. Wells has not left my side, watching everyone with the utmost scrutiny when they come within ten feet of me. I bet, like myself, he’s watching everyone’s nostrils to see if they are taking in my aroma.

I haven’t been on high alert, not since being here, but also, my interaction with people has been so limited. I try to think, beyond Greenlyn, who’s been around me,