“That’s him?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“He looks wormy.”
Preston was growing on me.
People seemed to disperse, leaving a path for Aiden. He had that look about him, bloodshot eyes or no. The cop look. It was coming in handy as two men vacated stools at the bar.
“I’m going over,” Preston yelled, slipping off her coat.
She’d dressed the role of hussy in a shiny halter top and microminiskirt. Though she was short, her legs were long, especially in the four-inch heels she wore. She was just the right amount of trashy to get any man’s attention.
She gyrated over to Joseph’s table, sidled in right next to him. The look on his face was priceless.
I noticed Aiden pull his pager from his hip. He frowned at the readout. “I have to make a call,” he shouted.
I nodded. It was easier than yelling.
I watched him head for the door, the crowd parting. I turned my attention back to Preston. She was having an in-depth conversation with the man sitting with Joseph.
Great.
I felt a buzzing on my lap and realized my phone was ringing inside my purse. I pulled it out and saw that I had eight missed calls, all from Marisol. I headed for the door to call her back.
Outside, I found Aiden leaning against a lamppost, talking on his cell. Snow was falling more steadily as I dialed Marisol’s number.
Marisol picked up on the second ring. “Lucy! Thank goodness.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Em. She’s lost it.”
“Lost what?”
“It!” Marisol cried. “We were at the dress shop for her fitting and next thing I know, she’s running out of the store leaving me behind in a cloud of satin and tulle.”
“She ran out in her dress?”
“Drove off in a cab, her dress caught in the door, dragging down the street.”
I gasped.
“I know! A twenty-thousand-dollar Reem Acra mopping up Comm Ave. She’s lost it. Completely and totally lost it. But I hope this means she’s having second thoughts about marrying him. It has to be a good sign, right?”
I was too worried about Em to agree.
“How’re things there?”
“The bait’s been planted. So far, no biting.”
“Shit. Well, I’m sure Em’s on her way to you. Just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
Em had a habit of turning to me in times of stress. Not long ago I found her camped out at my house after taking a hiatus from her life.
I hung up just as Preston came out, looking around. “There you are!”
“How’d it go?” I asked Preston.
“It didn’t. He certainly wasn’t interested in me. Or anyone but the man he’s with.”
My eyes widened.
“No, no! Not like that! The man—”
Aiden walked over. “I have to get back, Lucy. There’s been a break in a case.”
“Sarah’s?” I asked.
“No,” he said, glancing at Preston. “A different case; someone’s been receiving threatening letters and we might finally be able to nail the guy who’s been sending them.”
“Some people are just sick,” Preston said.
My blood ran cold as I stared at Aiden. He nodded.
He was talking about the Handmaiden letters. They had a lead. I wanted to cry.
Aiden and I started walking toward the car.
“Hey!” said Preston.
We turned back and looked at her. “First,” she said, “I have the keys. Second, the man who was with Joseph?”
“Yeah?” I asked, hesitant. There was something in her tone.
“He’s a lawyer.”
“So?” Aiden asked. “I’m sure he does lots of business with attorneys.”
Preston shook her finger at him. “This one was his attorney. They were going over the prenup Joseph had asked to be drawn up.”
18
As I stuck my key in the lock of my front door, I thought I heard the sound of the TV over the crashing waves.
As the door swung open, I blinked.
Em sat in a cloud of creamy white that swallowed my sofa. Layers and layers of silk were being weighted down by Grendel. It was completely dark inside except for the glow of the TV set.
Em pulled her sky-blue eyes from the screen. “I’ve got to get one of those! Blankets with arms! What a great invention.”
Glancing at the TV, I set my things down by the door. “Why do you need a blanket with arms?”
“I get cold. Where’s my cell phone?” she said, patting all around her dress. “Oh! That’s right.” She pulled it from her cleavage beneath a beautiful sweetheart neckline.
I strode over to her, snatched her phone out of her hand.
“Lucy!”
“Em! As your best friend, it’s my duty to stop you. Unless you want to wear a giant long-sleeved fleece muumuu. Because that’s what it looks like.”
“It looks cozy!” she argued, reaching for her phone.
Grendel had had enough. He rrrreowed and hopped off the couch, landing on his three legs without a wobble. Tail high, he stalked into the kitchen, sat by his bowl.
“No,” I said, tucking the phone into my pocket.
“Lucy!” she whined.
I turned on some lights, plugged in the tree. “No. And why are you watching infomercials?”
“I’m not—this is just a commercial. I’m watching a rerun of What Not to Wear. Do you think I’m frumpy?”
“Frumpy? Never!”
“I think I might be. I mean, this lady on the show wears sweatpants and track jackets all the time and they’re calling her frumpy.”
“You never wear sweatpants.”
“Sometimes I do. When no one’s around. And didn’t I almost just buy a fleece muumuu?”
I sat in my club chair that rocked and swiveled. “Em.”
“What?”
“Have you been drinking?”
She shook her head. Her red hair had been twisted into a severe bun that looked nothing short of painful. “Not yet. But I’m thinking it’s a good idea.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “What’s going on?”
She stared at the TV screen.
“Em?”
Her fair complexion colored to a splotchy red. Against the dress, her face looked like a cherry on top of vanilla ice cream. “There was this couple. Outside the dress shop. I was watching them. They were barely touching, but you could tell …”
“Tell what?”
“Their love just kind of surrounded them, wrapped them in this glow. A little lovely cocoon.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “It’s the way you and Sean are too.”
A painful lump wedged in my throat. I prodded her. “It’s not how you and Joseph are?”
I knew it wasn’t, but I wanted to hear it from her. Make her acknowledge it. I couldn’t wrap my head around that prenup. Em was going to flip out when he presented it to her.
And it seemed vaguely ridiculous. After all, Em was the heir to millions and millions. Sure, she and her parents were on the outs right now, but eventually the rift would be mended. The Baumbachs were too close-knit to let anything come between them for long.
“No. And I think it should be, shouldn’t it? If we’re going to be married? Shouldn’t there be that kind of, I don’t know, silent passion? Is that too much to—”
A car door slammed, cutting her off.
I rose, peeked out the window. My heart thrummed. “It’s Sean.”
I cringed as Em wiped her eyes with a silk ruffle. The bottom of her dress was a mess, covered in dirt and grime.
“I can send him away,” I offered.
“No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
I pulled open the door. Thoreau raced up the front steps, zipped into the house, yipping and yapping. Grendel tore himself away from his food dish to pounce on the dog.
The two tumbled across the dining room. Em laughed. “They’re adorab
le together.”
Sean came up the walk carrying an overnight bag. Just one look into his eyes and my knees went all wobbly and little firecrackers of heat shot through my stomach.
“I hope you don’t mind me coming over this late,” he said, pulling me into his arms before I could say a word.
His fingers threaded through my hair as he lowered his lips to mine. He tasted of cinnamon and smelled like … Sean. The scent wasn’t something I could identify by name, but my body, my heart, would know it anywhere.
It was like Em said. As if love surrounded us, wrapping us in a warm glow that kept out all the bad stuff. Cara, Cupid’s Curse, Sean’s health.
Even now, as his heart beat strongly against mine, I worried about it stopping. That the defibrillator implanted in Sean’s chest might misfire and just like that he’d be gone … No good-byes, no I-love-yous, no forever after.
The thought alone made me tighten my arms around him, lean into the kiss. Our tongues caught, tangled, teased. The promise of more hung in the air.
We tumbled backward into the house. Sean kicked the door closed. As he lifted the hem of my sweater, the sound of the TV penetrated my happy fog.
I jumped back.
“What?” Sean said.
I glanced at the couch.
With folded arms, Em said, “That. That’s what I want.”
Sean looked at Em, then back at me, then at her again as though he thought he was seeing things.
I went over to the sofa, sat on the arm. “You can have it, Em.”
“But not with Joseph.”
It was hard, so hard, to keep from cheering. Maybe she’d break up with him on her own and Marisol and I would never have to say a word. “No?”
She stood up, layers of silk falling around her. With a yank, she pulled her hair loose. It fell in luxurious waves around her face, down her shoulders. Put a wand in her hand and she could almost be Glinda the Good Witch, but Em was so much prettier. Standing there, in that amazing dress, with that hair, and the pink in her cheeks, she took my breath away she was so lovely.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just need some time to think. Can I stay here tonight?” She looked between Sean and me and said, “I’ll take the couch.”
My gaze shot to Sean. I didn’t think I wanted my first time with him to be while Em was snoozing on my sofa. Yet, if we shared a bed, I didn’t know if I could keep my hands to myself.
He looked like he knew exactly what I was thinking. His eyes danced.
“Wine,” Em said. “I need alcohol.”
I couldn’t agree more.
It was late.
I’d given in to Em’s adamant wish to wear a pair of my sweatpants as pajamas. She threw on my old Bridgewater State sweatshirt and a pair of gym socks to complete the outfit. Wine glass in hand, she was stretched out on the couch under a down comforter, watching another episode of What Not to Wear (it was a marathon), the sound blaring as if she were trying to block out the voices in her head.
The steady thump, thump, thump of Odysseus running on his wheel reverberated through the wall of my bedroom. I grabbed a strawberry from the fridge, popped half in my mouth and brought the other to him. I lifted the door of the cage, held out the remainder of the strawberry. Immediately he stopped running. His little hamster nose sniffed the air. He looked at me with his one and only eye and seemed to be waging a war within himself if I could be trusted. Slowly, he ventured to the door, took the strawberry from me with his teeth. He sat on his haunches, nibbling contentedly until I tried to pat his gray and white fur. At that, he shoved the strawberry into his cheek and ran to the far corner of the cage.
So much for trust.
Odysseus and Grendel had been “gifts” from Marisol. As a vet, she often tried to place strays with loving families. And strays with issues, like a one-eyed hamster and a three-legged cat, were harder than most to find a home. I’ve been known to complain when Marisol left a pet with me (usually while I wasn’t home), but was secretly glad to have both my critters.
Back in the kitchen, I rinsed dishes, put them in the dishwasher, suddenly thinking of Faye Dodd. Sean and I had plans to return to Portsmouth in the morning to see if we could track down Jimmy, Shannon’s boyfriend. We had to find out where he’d bought that bracelet.
I finished cleaning up, shoving the pizza box into the recycling bin. The L-shaped granite breakfast bar overlooked both the dining room and living room. I glanced at Sean as he moved about my bedroom, getting ready for bed. He’d showered and his bare chest glistened with wetness. I couldn’t help but stare. And want.
Grendel and Thoreau had claimed the end of my bed and were wrapped together like Yin and Yang.
Sean crossed in front of the door again and caught my eye. He smiled. My heart crashed into my rib cage as heat slowly built inside me. I tore my gaze away before I self-combusted.
In the living room, Em refilled her wine glass, refocused on the TV. She glanced up, caught me staring. “I’m okay, really. I’ll figure everything out.”
Raising her glass to me in a silent toast, she turned back to the TV. I recognized the need to watch TV as an escape. Mindless filler to calm the thoughts racing through her head.
“Long day?” Sean asked, padding into the kitchen in bare feet and an old pair of gym shorts.
His pearl-gray eyes looked nearly opaque in the dim light. Stubble covered his superhero jaw, and the slightest hint of darkness caressed the skin under his concerned eyes.
“Pretty long,” I said, leaning against the counter, my hands behind me so I’d keep them off him.
With the pad of his thumb, Sean traced my jawline. I pressed my cheek into his palm, let my eyes close.
His touch soothed the rough edges of my day. “But there were some good parts.” I told him about Leo.
“And where were you tonight?” he asked.
I glanced at Em. “I’ll tell you later.”
He leaned in, pressed his forehead against mine. His hands slid down my arms and pulled them out from behind me. Skimming along my skin, he stopped just above my hands. I turned my palms over so they hovered just under his touch.
My fingers tingled with the electricity.
I couldn’t explain the how or the why. I could just feel. The electricity. The magic.
We rarely allowed ourselves to touch hands. The experience was too powerful, and honestly, I was scared. Scared of what I might possibly see. I didn’t want to risk seeing something I wouldn’t like.
Slowly, I drew my hand away. “I think I’m ready for bed.”
His eyes twinkled. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Great minds,” I teased.
I went over to Em, glanced at the TV. “I suggest staying away from QVC.”
“Don’t worry. The fleece muumuu was temporary insanity.”
We said good night and ten minutes later I’d brushed my teeth, washed my face, and had stalled long enough. I stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a tank top and lounge pants—my normal PJs.
I had bought something silky and sexy in hopes that someday I’d wear it for Sean, but tonight didn’t feel right.
In the living room, the TV blared. I closed the door tight, listening for the click of the latch.
Sean had stripped to his boxer briefs and was standing in front of Odysseus’ cage, letting the hamster sniff his fingers.
“He likes you,” I said, sitting on the bed. “He doesn’t trust easily.”
“Few do.” He closed the door on the cage, turned around.
“I’m surprised to see you here tonight,” I said.
He sat down next to me and made a little twirl motion with his finger. I twisted, turning away from him. My breath hitched as his warm strong hands splayed against the small of my back, the heels pressing into my muscles.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“No.” I tried not to moan as he massaged away aches and worries and inhibitions. “Just surprised. Is Cara okay?”
&nbs
p; “She was discharged, and I took her home.”
His right hand went under my shirt. His roughened palm slid up my spine.
Goose bumps rose on my arms while a fiery hot pool of desire spread in my stomach, lower.
“She asked me to stay the night with her, that she was scared.”
I tensed.
“Now, now,” he soothed, his left hand joining his right, under my shirt, working magic with my muscles, my skin, my longing.
“And although I had reservations, I was going to.” His hands pressed, kneaded.
“Reservations?”
“She was so upset after fainting the doctor in the ER gave her a sedative, to calm her down. It made her chatty.”
His fingers spread as his hands swooped up and down my back. His fingertips grazed the sides of my breasts. His hands slid away, to my lower back. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
“What … did … she … say?” I managed to sputter.
“She talked a lot about us getting back together. That she didn’t like living alone. That if she was sick I couldn’t walk away from her.”
I tensed again.
“Ah, ah,” he admonished, pushing harder, leaning into the pressure. “When she asked me to stay the night, this little seed of doubt was planted.”
“Oh?”
“Every test has come back negative. All her symptoms could be for diseases not easily proven, like MS. She’s a nurse, she’d know how to get away with it.”
“But,” I said, melting under his touch, “what if she’s not faking?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
“So why didn’t you stay tonight, with her? You know, to watch over her?”
“I was going to, just because there is still that possibility she’s not faking, but I had a savior.”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “A savior?”
“Sam’s wife, Lizzie. She showed up on Cara’s doorstep and said she’d stay the night with Cara. It wasn’t an offer I was going to refuse.”
Sam had to be behind this turn of events. I loved that Sam. “And how did Cara take it?”
He curled his hands into fists, massaged in delicious circles. “She didn’t look too pleased, but she didn’t argue.”
“And you came here.”
“And I came here.”