13

Dovie must have been waiting for us to get home. No sooner had Sean shut off the car than Rufus was dragging her across the lawn toward us.

I unlocked the door to my cottage while Sean let Thoreau and Rufus get to know each other. Rufus looked as though he could eat the Yorkie in one bite.

I turned off the alarm system and detached Grendel from my slacks. I lifted him up, murmured sweet nothings until he purred his contentment.

My Maine coon had a bit of separation anxiety, but he was easily appeased. He’d be even happier now that Thoreau was here. The two had an interesting relationship.

“I’m afraid to take Rufus off the leash outside,” Dovie was saying as she came in. “He might go racing and fall off the bluff.”

As soon as Grendel spotted Rufus, he clawed his way up my chest and onto my shoulder. His back arched; his fur stood up. Hissing, he dug his claws in deeper.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

Sean helped pull him off and set him on the floor. Grendel took off on his three legs toward my bedroom. Rufus chased him, obviously thinking he was a furry rubber chicken.

“Huh,” Dovie said.

“Either he’s jealous that Thoreau has a new friend or he doesn’t like dogs bigger than him,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. I checked for blood. Only a few drops.

Grendel dove under my bed. Hissing ensued.

I was pretty sure he’d stay under there until mollified that the big scary dog was gone. Cheese would go a long way in earning Grendel’s forgiveness. He loved cheese.

Sean turned on the gas fireplace, caught my eye, and waggled his eyebrows.

My blood pressure ratcheted up a notch. I hadn’t forgotten what he’d said earlier about him and me, me and him, in front of the flames.

Feeling myself flush, I said, “Tea, anyone?” Anything to distract from the lust in my eyes. No need to scandalize Dovie.

Who was I kidding? Dovie could probably teach me a thing or two, though I’d certainly never ask. Some things a granddaughter should never know.

“Lovely,” Dovie said, settling in a leather chair. “I’m worried about the pup. He’s not eating. I’ve tried everything.”

“Did you call Marisol?” Sean asked.

“She’s coming by tomorrow to take a look at him. Poor thing. He probably misses home.”

I glanced at Sean. Unfortunately for us, Dovie looked like she was staying for the long haul. Damn it. I had plans that included Sean being naked and me having my way with him.

“You want tea?” I asked him, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

He gave me a look, half regret, half promise. “No.” He went to the fridge, pulled out a Sam Adams, and popped the top.

I put the kettle on, then checked on Grendel. He’d stopped hissing but was refusing to look at me. Rufus sat on his haunches, his tail wagging as he waited for Grendel to come out and play. Fat chance.

Thoreau paid no attention. He’d curled up in front of the fireplace. Apparently he’d had enough excitement tonight, being dognapped and all, and had worn his little doggy self out.

“Anything on Mac?” Dovie asked.

Sean sat on the sofa, dragged a hand over his face. He looked tired. “Not yet. We were trying to figure out if the theft of some of his prints a few years ago had anything to do with his disappearance now.”

Dovie’s eyes widened. If I tried hard enough, I could picture her aura. A golden glow that pulsed with energy. A pang of remorse hit me hard. Sometimes I really missed my ability to see the colors of the people I loved.

She said, “There’s a connection?”

The kettle started a slow whistle. I pulled it from the flame. “It’s not looking like it.”

While I poured, Sean explained about Meaghan Archibald and Tristan Rourke.

“How gothic,” Dovie enthused. “A wanted man, the woman who loves him.”

I poured hot water into the mugs. “Sounds more like a Lifetime movie.”

Sean smiled. “Or a disaster waiting to happen. Now that the FBI is involved.”

Dovie gasped. “How do I miss all the good stuff?”

By the time we explained, my tea was cool enough to drink. I settled on the couch next to Sean, my legs curled under me, my thigh pressed against his. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I pressed against him a little harder.

Dovie set her mug on the table. “So we’re back to square one with Mac?”

“Essentially,” Sean said.

She stood up. “Then you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you, young man.”

Sean looked at me. “Did she just ‘young man’ me?”

“ ’Fraid so.”

“Should I be worried?” he asked.

“I’m standing right here!” She stomped her foot in case we weren’t paying attention.

“Definitely,” I answered him.

Wagging a finger at us, she said, “This other case can surely wait, LucyD?”

It was as much of an order as she was going to issue. “We can do both.”

She arched an elegant eyebrow. “You think so?”

Fighting a yawn, I said, “I know.”

“And just how can you be so sure?”

“I’m psychic?” I said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug.

A smile split her face. “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

Dovie was forever moaning about marrying into a psychic family instead of being psychic herself. But I wasn’t so sure. Dovie seemed to have some pretty special powers.

“Rufus, come! Come on. Let’s go.”

Case in point. Rufus bounded over, sat at Dovie’s heel, and gazed up at her adoringly. Animals loved her.

Dovie clipped his leash, straightened the pink bandanna still tied around his neck. It reminded me to check on Christa to see if she wanted to visit the dog. I stood, kissed Dovie’s cheeks. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Promise.”

She clucked my chin, motioned for me to follow her to the door. Outside, she said, “Have you asked him yet?”

I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. “Asked him what?”

“To move in, of course!”

For a second there, I thought she was going to stamp her foot again, but she only leveled me with a stare I couldn’t look away from.

“It’s too soon.” How many times was I going to have to say it?

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Dovie.”

Her green gaze softened and filled with compassion that twisted my heart. “I may not be psychic,” she said, “but I know love when I see it, LucyD. And I know you’re no fool. So do what needs to be done. I’m too old to be worrying about your love life.”

“Em’s is up for grabs.”

Dovie swatted me. “Sass! I’m leaving. See me leaving?”

“I see.”

“Don’t beg me to stay. I won’t.”

I laughed as Rufus pulled her down the walkway. “Rufus wouldn’t let you anyway.”

“And don’t think I’ve forgiven you for dumping him on me!” she called, her voice rising above the crashing waves.

She wasn’t fooling me for a second. She already adored that dog. I went back inside, my teeth chattering.

I walked over to the hearth, held my hands out to the flames. My palms warmed. Sean came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled my hair aside so he could have free access to my neck. He kissed and nuzzled.

In between he said, “Did that conversation outside have anything to do with what you saw earlier when you held my hand?”

I stiffened, pulled away. “No.”

“What did you see, Lucy?”

I fluffed a pillow and decided now might be a good time to check for loose change in between the cushions. “I saw Thoreau with Rourke.”

“What else did you see?”

Shit. Only one quarter and lots of crumbs. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re a lousy liar.”

Huh. Twice I’d heard that today. I gave up looking for loose change—and made a mental note to vacuum in between those cushions more. “Lying? Me? Ha!”

He dared to smile. As if that dimple of his could distract me enough to tell him the truth.

He knew me too well.

“All right,” I said, about to spill my guts. “It was you and me and we were … and well—” Damn, this was harder than I thought.

“And?”

My cell phone rang.

“Let it go,” he said.

I jumped for it. “It may be important! Really important. Life-or-death important.”

He rolled his eyes as I answered.

“Talk me off the ledge,” Mum said.

“What ledge?” To Sean I whispered, “See? Life or death.”

“The cheesecake ledge.”

Or maybe not. “Is this about the diet?”

Sean went into the bedroom, lay flat on the floor, and lifted the bed skirt. A loud hiss filled the air.

“Try cheese,” I told Sean.

“Are you talking about cheese to me?” Mum said. “I’m dying!”

“Not of the cake variety. The cheese is for Grendel.”

“Oh. Okay. Like that makes it all right.”

“You’re cranky.”

“I’m starving.”

“You don’t need to diet. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Yes, I do. You’ve seen those girls your father usually goes for. All size minus zeros, jutting cheek- and hip bones. I couldn’t find my hip bone if I had a map with a big X on it and a shovel.”

“Mum.” I dropped into my favorite chair.

“Lucy.”

“Eat the cheesecake.”

“What kind of help are you?”

“Dad obviously likes you as is.”

“As is? Like I’m a used car without a warranty?”

My call-waiting beeped. Thank God. “Gotta go, Mum.”

“Wait! What about the cheesecake?”

“One little tiny bite won’t hurt. Just do some extra cardio tomorrow.”

“Extra cardio? Brilliant! Smooches.”

I clicked over to the other call. “Lucy Valentine.”

“It’s Meaghan,” she said. “I just got your message. I can’t believe Tristan is wanted by the FBI! What do they think he did?”

Interesting wording. She wasn’t ready to believe the worst of him. Yet. “Technically not wanted. Just a person of interest at this point.” I explained about the theft ring.

“Wow.”

“What I need to know from you is how you want us to proceed. Or if you want us to at all.”

The fridge opened, closed. I heard the crinkle of a cellophane wrapper. There was a long stretch of silence over the phone line. I didn’t want to tell Meaghan we had met with Tristan, spoken with him. Not yet. Not until she knew whether she wanted to continue with the case. “Meaghan?”

“It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know. Why don’t you sleep on it? It’s a big decision.”

“I’ll call you in the morning,” she said softly.

I hung up. Sean was rinsing his hand. “Grendel took the cheese, and gave me a nice thank-you.” A long scratch stretched across his wrist.

I grabbed a paper towel, wadded it up, and dampened it. Carefully I lifted Sean’s wrist and dabbed at the wound.

“And he still won’t come out from under the bed. Was that Meaghan?”

“She’s going to call with a decision in the morning.”

I lifted his arm to my mouth, kissed it. “Better?”

His eyes sparkled. “I’m not sure. Try again.”

I gently kissed his forearm again, working my way up to the tender spot on the underside of his elbow. “Now?”

“My arm’s okay, but I have this other ache.…”

“Oh? I’m feeling a bit achy myself.”

“We’ll just have to see what we can do about that.” He pulled in, kissed me hungrily as his hands slipped under my shirt, skimmed my skin. The heat from his palms seeped in, infusing my blood with a heat so blistering I wanted to strip off my clothes.

Sean must have read my mind. He unbuttoned my blazer, let it slide to the floor. His fingers grabbed the hem of my sweater, pulled it over my head.

My hands threaded through his hair as I kissed him with blind passion. It was always like this with us—a desperate desire, as though we were never going to let each other go. As though we knew that at any moment what we had could be gone.

His hands went to the buttons of my shirt. “Just how many layers do you have on, Ms. Valentine?”

“Only two more. Well, three if you count the bra.”

He groaned. “You’re killing me.”

I smiled against his lips. “It’s winter. It’s cold. I need layers.”

The buttons were finally free and he slid my shirt down my arms. “Funny,” he said as he lifted my camisole. “You don’t feel cold.”

I tugged his shirt over his head, ran my hands down his chest until they stopped on the button of his jeans. With a twist, I had it undone. “Imagine that.”

He was reaching for the hook on my bra when my phone rang my tinny version of the Hawaii Five-O theme song.

Sean’s hand stilled. “It’s late.”

I glanced at the ringing phone. “Only bad news comes this late.”

I thought of all the cases I’d helped Aiden with. The late-night calls usually meant a fresh case, someone recently reported missing. Time was of the essence. There was a three-hour window crucial to an abduction.

“Go on,” Sean said, handing me the phone.

I let out a breath, stared longingly at my hand, still on the zipper of his pants. I reached for the phone.

“Sorry, Lucy,” Aiden said when I answered. “I know it’s late.”

“A new case?” I was suddenly chilled, though it had nothing to do with my lack of clothing.

“In a way. I just got a call from Agent Thomas.”

An icy finger of dread slid down my spine. I shivered. “And?”

“He wanted to let us know … I’m sorry to tell you this, but Anthony Spero is dead.… And there’s a massive manhunt on for Tristan Rourke.”