She was facing the wall, her back to him. She dropped a T-shirt into the bag. “You scared me,” she said softly.
He had one last chance to make his escape.
He let go of the doorknob and walked up behind her. He very gently put his arms around her. Any anger left inside him was gone, drained out of him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I . . . I was upset. Those guys, they—”
“What is with them, anyway, walking around in those stupid costumes?” She turned in his arms, looking up at him with those big, dark, innocent eyes of hers. “The Blues Brothers didn’t have plastic fangs.”
He almost laughed aloud. With relief, as much as amusement. She still didn’t realize the fangs were real. Thank God. Because how was he going to explain that one? If she became too suspicious of the Hildegard brothers, of Kaleigh, of him, or of anyone in Clare Point, he’d have no choice but to take her blood. The Kahills had a way of erasing a human’s short-term memory when they partook. It was a safety mechanism for both humans and vampires.
“I guess they just like Halloween,” Liam said lamely.
She frowned. “Nut jobs is what they are.”
He looked down at her, closing his arms around her. “Will you come tonight? To my room?” He kissed her very gently. “To me, and let me make love to you?”
She groaned, letting her eyes drift shut. “This is getting weird, Liam. Maybe I should just go home.”
“No, no, you can’t go home. You’re still in danger.”
She opened her eyes. “Really? Do you really think there could be any truth to this diamond thing?” She exhaled. “With every day that passes, I wonder more if I just . . . I don’t know, imagined the whole thing. What if it really was just a burglary that Uncle Donato got caught up in?”
He stroked her back. “That doesn’t explain the phone calls.”
She pressed her cheek to his chest. “Not just prank calls, were they?”
“Not just prank calls. And having your house tossed wasn’t a prank, either.”
She was quiet for a second and Liam took the opportunity to enjoy the feel of her in his arms. However this played out, he knew she’d be gone soon. He knew their time together was going to be brief and he wanted desperately to hold on to this feeling as long as possible.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I swear I am,” he told her.
“Soon,” she insisted. “Otherwise . . . otherwise I’m going to, I don’t know. Go to the police?”
“If you didn’t go before, if you didn’t answer their questions completely honestly before, they’re going to be suspicious now, Mai.”
“I know.” She smoothed his T-shirt under her hand.
“Just give me a few more days, a week.” He stroked her long hair, liking the feel of its silkiness in his fingers. “A week. Two, tops. Come on, it’s not so bad staying here with me, is it?”
She smiled and looked up at him. “Not so bad.” She patted his chest and pulled away. “You want some dessert? I made pumpkin pie.”
“Pie would be good.” He still held on to her hand, even as she moved toward the door. “Will you come tonight?”
She cut her dark eyes at him, a playful smile on her lips. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
“So, exactly what are we looking for?” Mai asked, standing in the middle of the mess that had been Donato’s bedroom. They’d spent some time in her shop, but they both thought it less likely her uncle would have hidden the diamonds there. He was rarely in there, and where could he have put them that he wouldn’t have had to worry about her selling the item, with the diamonds in it?
Just looking at her uncle’s room made her want to cry. The entire house was trashed like this. It would take days to clean up.
They had left her dad with Kaleigh, watching TV. Unfortunately, it was raining, so a walk on the beach was out of the question. But Kaleigh had taken a checkerboard, and the two had big plans to watch Oprah.
Liam had decided that Donato’s bedroom was the place to start looking for clues as to the mystery of the pink diamonds. They’d pretty much ruled out her shop for various reasons and would concentrate on the house. Mai didn’t have high hopes of finding anything, but it was nice to be in her own house again, even for a couple of hours. Staying with Liam wasn’t bad, but she missed her home; she missed the life she’d had before Uncle Donato was murdered in her store.
Mai gathered sheets that had been thrown on the floor when the intruder or intruders had searched under her uncle’s mattress. The room was small with pale cream walls; Mai had picked the color out, thinking her uncle would find it soothing. She’d painted the room herself, making the trim a crisp white. The furniture was all treasures she had accumulated over the years, sturdy but comfortable pieces. There was a double bed with a maple headboard, a dresser and nightstand in pine, and a painted bookshelf. Turned upside down on the floor was an oak rocking chair with a seat that had been re-caned. Her uncle had seemed pleased when she’d shown him the bedroom the day he arrived. It was small but neat, he said. Everything an old man needed.
It didn’t look so neat now. The closet door was open, shoes and clothing tossed on the floor in front of it. The whole floor was covered in her uncle’s meager belongings: mostly clothing, but some books, magazines, and what appeared to have been a picture album before the pages were yanked out and strewn across the carpet. When Mai inhaled, she could faintly smell her uncle. It wasn’t a bad smell, but a familiar one—a mixture of old-fashioned shaving soap and old age, she supposed. And lemon drops. He had loved lemon drops, and the evidence of that was on the floor under the bed. Someone had ripped open a bag and thrown the pieces all over the floor.
“We’re not looking for the diamonds, are we?” Mai asked, adding the quilt to the growing pile on the bed.
Liam picked up books, flipped through them, and set them on the bookshelf near the door. “You can certainly let me know if you find any, but no, we’re not really looking for diamonds. I was thinking more like bank statements, some sort of paperwork. Do you have his will?”
“I hadn’t even thought about a will. He never said anything to me about one. I can ask Babbo, but who knows what kind of answer I’ll get there? His wife and parents are dead. He had no children.” She tossed the bedding onto the bed. “My aunt Francisca, his sister, died a few years ago and she and her husband had no children, either, so I guess I’m his closest relative. After my dad. If there is a will, I need to find it.”
Liam slid another book onto the shelf. “He bring these with him?”
She glanced at the books he was cleaning up. “Yup. He didn’t bring much, but he was very particular about his books.” She smiled sadly. His books had been one subject he had been able to converse on. They often talked about what they had read. “As you can see, he liked the classics.”
“Some good ones here: Treasure Island, Oliver Twist, Gulliver’s Travels.”
She righted a lamp on the nightstand. “Any treasures in Treasure Island? You know, like a hole cut in the pages and diamonds stuffed in them?”
“That’s actually what I’m checking for, but I think the guys who got here ahead of us did the same thing.”
She righted the rocking chair.
“Hey, it looks like he also liked Amish romances.” He held up a handful of paperback books. “Beverly Lewis, Emma Miller, Wanda Brunstetter?”
She grinned. “I know, weird. We used to go to the bookstore regularly to see if there were any in he hadn’t read yet. I think Emma Miller lives around here somewhere. He was hoping she’d have a book signing in Rehoboth Beach and he could meet her. He had me check her Web site.” She began to gather shoes, pairing them up with their partners and neatly lining the floor of the closet, just the way her uncle had done. “Hey, you think it would be okay if I took my laptop back with us? I must have a ton of e-mail.” She held a shoe in each hand. They were the same worn leather shoes, just different colors. “I mean, he can’t track me by the
Internet, right?” She lowered the shoes. “But you don’t have wireless Internet, do you?”
He gave a look that needed no further explanation.
“I bet your library does, or one of the shops in town.”
“I can probably have Internet added to the cable package.” He was still working on the books.
She turned to him after she set the shoes in the closet. “You don’t have to do that. We’ll be gone in another week or so.” She looked down at the row of shoes she’d just made on the closet floor. “What am I thinking? I shouldn’t be putting all this stuff in the closet. I should be bagging it up to donate to charity.” She was surprised by the emotion in her voice. She hadn’t been that close to Uncle Donato; over the years, much of their contact had been about birthday gifts and stilted greetings at Thanksgiving dinner. Then, of course, he’d been in prison all those years. She didn’t know why his death was affecting her this way. But it wasn’t just Uncle Donato and this nonsense about diamonds, or even the death threats; it was about Liam. It was about the fact that she had finally met a man she could love and yet she knew, in her heart of hearts, it was not meant to be.
Liam glanced in her direction. “Hey. You okay?”
She felt stupid. There might be mafia thugs after her and her father and she was getting teary over an old man’s shoes? An old man who could very possibly have gotten her into this predicament, fully knowing he was putting her and his brother at risk.
She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to cry in front of Liam. She faced the closet, trying to give herself a second. “I’m fine.”
She heard him push another book onto the shelf and then he walked over to her. “Yeah?” He wrapped his arms around her from the back and kissed the nape of her neck, directly under her ponytail.
“Yeah.” His kiss felt delicious. But then, every kiss they shared was delicious. Never in her life had she known such a generous, virile lover. She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned against Liam, letting him nibble her earlobe.
Even with the overhead light, the room was dim and in shadows. Rain pattered on windows that faced south.
“Think maybe it’s time to take a break?” Liam whispered huskily in her ear.
She smiled, closing her eyes again. “A break? We haven’t been here an hour yet,” she teased.
“But it’s hard work, shelving books.”
He nipped at her ear, then touched it with the tip of his tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure right to the tips of her toes.
“Hard work?” She turned in his arms so she could face him and tilted her chin up to invite another kiss. “Poor thing.”
His kiss was long and painfully sweet. He always tasted so good, never like food or toothpaste, but like . . . Liam. The scent of his skin, his hair, the taste of him on her mouth—she would never forget it. It had been plain from the start that he didn’t want a relationship. And somehow, that was okay with her. But knowing that made her want to savor every moment they had together.
Liam slid his hand under the band of her Bethany Beach sweatshirt, under her cami, then under her bra. She groaned as he covered her breast with his warm hand and squeezed gently.
Suddenly, despite the fact that she had turned back the thermostat the day she left, she felt hot. Beads of moisture gathered above her lip. She grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, caught the hem of the cami, and tugged them both over her head. She tossed them on the floor onto a pile of Uncle Donato’s pajamas. Liam assisted her with her bra. She arched her back, giving him easier access to her breasts, now tingling with anticipation.
He caressed each of her small breasts as if they were treasures, then stroked her nipples with his tongue until they were hard points. She looped her arms around his neck, no longer feeling completely stable on her feet. “You think we’d be more comfortable on the bed?” she whispered.
He raised an eyebrow. “Your uncle’s bed?”
“It was mine first.” She turned toward it, but then Liam surprised her by lifting her in his arms. She had never had a man carry her to bed. Liam McCathal was full of surprises.
He laid her down gently on the tangles of sheets and then stood up. His gaze locked with hers; he pulled his black T-shirt off. Then his fingers found the button of his jeans.
It was like her own personal male strip show. A surprising turn-on.
Mai lay back on the bed and watched him. Without taking his gaze from hers, he kicked out of his shoes and slowly pushed down his jeans. Standing in front of her in black boxer briefs, he pulled off his socks.
Still watching him, she took a moment to kick off her sneakers.
He looped his thumb into the waistband of his boxer briefs. She could already see the evidence of his desire for her, but she liked watching him spring forth from the fabric. She licked her dry lips and he grinned.
She was embarrassed. A little. But she laughed. “Come on,” she called, opening her arms to him. “We already know you’re hot, my mystery man.”
Before crawling onto the bed, he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off, adding them to the pile of strewn clothing on the floor. As he leaned over her, his fingers found the strings of her bikini underwear. He looked at her questioningly. She lifted her hips to let him peel them away. Then, feeling silly to be wearing nothing but white shorty socks, she pulled them off as she scooted back on the bed to make room for him.
He didn’t lie on top of her, though. Instead, he stood over her, his hands on her thighs. He stroked them lightly and then lowered his head. First he kissed her knees, then one inner thigh, then the other. By the time he reached the object of both their desires, she was practically writhing beneath him.
The guy was good. The best.
Mai came twice before she opened her arms, begging him to join her on the bed, begging him to push inside her. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, crying out with amazing pleasure as he took her. He felt so good. He made her feel so safe. So . . . maybe not loved, but cared for. Treasured.
They rocked the old maple bed hard. Mai managed to come twice more before Liam’s cell phone rang somewhere on the floor. They both laughed, ignoring it. But the spell of the moment was broken and he came fast and hard, both of them panting, gasping for breath.
The phone stopped ringing and Liam eased himself onto the bed beside her. She was thinking to herself that she’d have to wash the sheets for sure now, when the phone began to ring again.
He looked at her. He was still panting, his bare chest rising and falling.
She smiled and lifted up on her elbows to kiss him. “Answer it. It might be Kaleigh.”
Chapter 17
Standing naked in the middle of the bedroom, Liam fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. He checked the screen before answering it. The name that came up surprised him. He had been half afraid he’d never hear from him again.
“Anthony.” He pointed to the doorway to let Mai know he was going to step into the hall to take the call.
“Mr. McCathal.”
Liam stepped into the hall and walked toward Mai’s bedroom, putting some distance between him and her. “Anthony, you don’t need to call me Mr. McCathal. I apologize again for my behavior the other night. You just took me by surprise.”
“Wanted to let you know I’ve made contact with the rat in question.”
Liam frowned. He assumed the bookie was referring to the Weasel; he hadn’t asked the old man to talk with him, only to try to find out where he was living, maybe what he was up to. “I see,” he said slowly.
“Living with a nephew in Brooklyn. Nice coffee shop around the corner from the place. I bought him a cannoli.”
“You weren’t supposed to talk to him,” Liam said, not liking this turn of events. He wasn’t in the habit of getting old men into trouble, not even an old bookie who had probably created plenty of his own trouble once upon a time.
“No need to worry. I’ve been dealing with his kind longer than you been alive, sonny.” He chuckled. �
�He’s a pretty old guy.”
“How . . . how did you end up having cannolis with him?” Liam walked into Mai’s bedroom. It looked as if it had been tossed as thoroughly as Donato’s. The only difference was that there were girly things on the floor: panties and bras, makeup, some jewelry, and a black lacquered jewelry box, its contents strewn.
“Easy. Asked him if he was interested in a piece of my action . . . if I was to go into semiretirement. Which reminds me, Eagles beat the Saints. I owe you a buck twenty.”
He was referring to the bet Liam had made on the Eagles as a joke to tell Fia. “Keep it. Part of your fee.” Almost stepping on the jewelry box, he picked it up and set it on Mai’s dresser. “Now tell me what Machhione had to say.”
“Not much. We talked about the business and then about stuff.”
“Stuff?” Liam questioned. He pulled back the edge of the lace curtain and looked down on the backyard. Mai’s minivan was parked in the driveway but he saw no sign of anyone else, suspicious or otherwise.
“You know, about old times.”
“You said you never knew him,” Liam said into the phone. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t enlisted Anthony’s help. The guy seemed to think this was some kind of game. Maybe he didn’t like getting old and losing the identity he’d made for himself, being the tough-guy bookie. Liam wasn’t sure; he just knew he didn’t like it. Anthony made him nervous.
“I didn’t know him. But we have acquaintances that go way back. You know, he once owned blocks of this borough. Everywhere he went, Machhione got respect. We were in the same business, he and I.”
Not exactly, Liam thought. While you were beating up trash collectors to get what they owed you on a losing bet, the Weasel was stealing rare diamonds and ordering hits on his enemies. But Liam didn’t go there. What was the point? “So . . . what did you find out? Is he . . . working?”
“Didn’t get a lot of personal information. I was trying to make him comfortable. Keep him from getting suspicious. It worked. I’m just a lonely old guy like him, met at the coffee shop. We’re having dinner Thursday night. A little trattoria down the street from his nephew’s place. Clam linguine to die for, he says.”
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