by Maggie Way
Worry disrupted her cousin’s blue eyes. “Let me get a beer in Noah first, and then I’ll explain.”
Emily scooped up the bottle of wine and followed Mina to the living room where they rejoined the guys in the middle of a conversation.
“Are you and Mina staying for a while then?” Luke asked.
“We’re staying indefinitely.” Noah sent Emily a kind smile as she reclaimed her spot in the armchair. “Emily’s nice enough to let us freeload until we find something more permanent.”
Mina shoved the beer into Noah’s hand and sank onto the sofa beside him. “Actually, Em, we wanted to talk to you about possibly extending our stay.”
Noah grew instantly alert. His smile vanished. “We do?”
Mina pushed a puff of air between her lips and shifted to face Noah. “So here’s the thing.”
“Oh, boy,” Noah muttered.
“I bought a house.”
“Excuse me?”
Words poured out of Mina in a rush. “The city was going to demolish it in favor of green space and I couldn’t let them do it. It’s so pretty and old—it needs a little work, of course—but once we fix the foundation and repair the plumbing, and the electrical, and probably get a new roof, it’ll be beautiful and we can move in. It’s on the south side of the island and has an amazing view of the harbor.”
Noah eased back on the couch. “So let me get this straight. You bought a house that we can’t live in, can’t resell, and can’t rent out?”
Mina lifted her shoulders. “It only cost a dollar.”
“A bargain.” Noah’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “How’d you pull that off?”
“It was going to cost them $15,000 to demo it, so…”
“So you saved them the expense.” Noah gave his head a soft shake. “Did it occur to you there might be a reason they’d be willing to drop that kind of money just to get rid of the place?”
A frown turned down the corners of her mouth. “They have no imagination.”
“That may be true,” he said easily. “But where are we going to live?”
“I thought we could live in the carriage house until the renovations are done.” Her large eyes shimmered. “You’re happy there, aren’t you?”
Noah softened. “I’m happy anywhere you are.” He reached for her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “But can’t you just take in stray kittens or something?”
Luke’s soft chuckle reached Emily from across the coffee table and Mina’s soft smile when she leaned into Noah warmed the room. They sat snuggled on the couch and the conversation turned to other topics.
Noah and Luke talked about their niece and nephews, and schemed a way to force Shea, their eldest brother, to talk to his wife, a woman named Isobel whom Emily didn’t know.
Emily found herself waiting for Luke to speak, curious to hear what he might say. She wondered about him and his life, and why Noah had a distinct Irish accent but Luke, at best, had a faint lilt.
Their conversation took twists and turns, and by the time Emily finished her second glass of wine, she’d answered a few questions about Arizona and about her guest upstairs. At one point, she realized she’d never experienced anything like this before. Visiting with friends, in no hurry to get away from each other, and in fact, finding inconsequential things to say and ask one another for seemingly no other reason than to extend their time together.
How it hurt to realize what a sad, lonely life she’d lived. The closest she’d ever come was with her roommate in college, Haven. An outgoing, friendly girl, she’d had a knack for bringing Emily out of her shell.
Sometime later, Noah and Mina retreated to the carriage house. The setting sun tilted soft light across the room.
From across the table, Luke watched her with hooded eyes.
She made a motion with her hand to include the front window. “Thank you.”
A smile pulled up one corner of his mouth and she braced herself for a flippant reply.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
He stood, and so did she, prepared to walk him to the door. Except he didn’t go to the door.
Instead, he lowered himself onto the sofa, flicked open a notepad, and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of him.
His cop face slammed into place. “Have a minute?”
Gooseflesh chased up her arms. “A minute for what?”
“If you don’t want me asking questions around town, maybe I can ask you a few?”
Chapter Nine
“Wh-what kind of questions?”
Luke shifted to the edge of the sofa and propped his elbows on his knees. “We need a list.”
“A list of wh-what?”
“Suspects.”
“Suspects?”
“People or persons who might wish you unwell. Nemeses, rivals, foes. Enemies.”
“Enemies?”
A beat of silence followed while he blinked at her. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Repeating everything I say.”
Her throat tightened and she swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t think I’ll be m-much help to you.”
“Shall we find out?” he asked, his voice calm and his gaze steady.
“Wh-what do you want to know?”
“Any husbands, current or former?”
She shook her head.
“Boyfriends?”
He’d poked a sore spot. Insecurity over her lack of sophistication, or of any lasting meaningful sexual relationship, chafed like a shoe on a fresh blister.
She tossed up a flimsy smile. “So we’re officially abandoning the misguided ten-year-old theory?”
“Best to be thorough, don’t you think?” His eyes glittered in the dim light. “So, about those ex-boyfriends…?”
She’d met Joshua, her one and only boyfriend, her junior year in college. For the first time, her crippling shyness didn’t prove too large an obstacle to overcome and they’d begun dating. They’d even had sex a few times before Emily left school, but the fragile newness of their relationship combined with Emily’s phobia of the phone and stress of Audrey’s illness conspired against them.
Five years after she’d dropped out of college, Emily ran into Joshua at the hospital where Audrey had been admitted and where he apparently worked. He was with a woman, whom he introduced as Becca, his fiancée.
Emily hadn’t been aware they’d broken up. So caught up in the hell of watching her mom die, she was shocked to realize years had passed, and that Joshua had moved on.
Without her.
Green eyes watched her intently.
She shook her head. “None that are carrying a grudge.”
“How about a current boyfriend?”
Growing annoyed with his persistent questioning, she snorted. “If I had a boyfriend, I w-wouldn’t need BOB, would I?”
“Who the hell is Bob?”
Heat rushed into her face. “The vibrator.”
One dark eyebrow inched upward. “You named him Bob?”
“I didn’t name him. That’s wh-what they’re called—Battery Operated Boyfriend. BOB”
His laugh was low, throaty, and melted her insides to warm butter.
She tipped her chin toward the table. “Who’s made your list?”
He drove a hand through his hair. “Nothing earth-shattering. Just a couple of delinquents and a competing business owner.”
“Wh-what business owner? The motel downtown?”
“Hal doesn’t pull in a lot of business. He’s a known hothead, and from what I can tell, a slacker. I doubt he’s ambitious enough to drive out here and terrorize you.” His voice lowered. “Which leads me back to you, and any enemies that may have followed you to the island.”
“I don’t have any enemies. Sorry to disappoint.”
Cradling his chin in his palm, he tapped the pen against the notepad. “Have you pissed anyone off since you arrived?”
“You mean other than the Thief Island Poli
ce Department?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Yes, other than them.”
“No one that I’m aware of, no.”
His brows knitted together. “I imagine you haven’t had a lot of interaction yet. Maybe someone thinks you’re stuck-up.”
A soft gasp slipped through her lips at the accusation, one she’d heard a number of times in her life. “Or m-maybe one of your groupies saw y-you kissing m-me in a bar parking lot and is mad.”
His heavily lashed lids slipped down over his eyes. “I did more than kiss you.”
Her breathing hitched higher. “So you do remember.”
She found herself ensnared by his green gaze. “Of course, I remember.”
With gleeful abandon, her pulse throbbed.
As she watched, his focus shifted to some far off point and he dragged the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip. “It’s not likely I’ll ever forget that kiss.”
Those words, spoken by him, wove a silken cocoon around her, and in an instant, the doubts and insecurities she’d collected over the years about her lack of a love life dissolved like cotton candy on her tongue.
The clock on the mantel chimed nine times. Each strike of the drum served to pull them further away from that warm space in between them.
Leaning back, he propped his feet on the coffee table and crossed his legs at the ankles.
His quick smile coaxed the dimples into his cheeks. “You sure you don’t have a mortal enemy from childhood who I could charge with vandalism and wrap this case up tonight?”
“W-Well… there might be someone w-with reason to… resent me.”
His smile vanished.
“But it isn’t likely,” she rushed to add.
“I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”
She let out a slow, shaky breath. “Wh-when my dad died, a large part of his estate was willed to my mom.”
He sat forward. “Your dad? What was his name?”
“Harrison Cole.”
He scribbled down the name in his notepad.
“His wife fought the will, claiming he meant to change it before he died, but the court ruled in my mom’s favor.”
Luke’s head remained bent while his hand moved across the paper.
“But by the time the ruling came down, my m-m-mom had died, too.”
His head came up. “When did your mom pass?”
“Last September.” She took a sip of wine to dislodge the lump that formed in her throat.
“And your dad?”
“In the spring of that year.”
“You lost both of your parents last year?” An unbearable tenderness came into his voice. “Em, I’m so sorry.”
His gentleness surprised and moved her, but some of his pity was misplaced. “Harrison wasn’t a nice man.”
“What do you mean?” Any gentleness evaporated.
She lifted one shoulder. “He was a corporate businessman and didn’t tolerate imperfection.”
The pen poised between his fingertips as if he might break it in half. “Imperfection?”
She gave him a look.
His expression cleared. “You mean your stutter?”
“Not just the way I talk, but all of it.”
“All of what?”
Furious heat rushed into her cheeks. “Never mind.”
He sighed and looked down at the notepad. “So your parents divorced. How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“When did Harrison remarry?”
“When I was nine, or m-maybe ten.”
“Any idea what went wrong?”
“I assume there were a lot of things.” Her fingers toyed with the stem of her wineglass. “Harrison was twenty-three years older than my mom, and he worked and traveled a lot.”
In the silence, memories crowded forward. She recalled one of the days she’d run home from school, tears streaming down her face after Angie Lawson humiliated her in front of the entire class again. She’d flung herself into Audrey’s lap and soaked up her mom’s comforting words and caresses.
“You coddle her,” Harrison had snapped. “Why don’t you ever give me that kind of attention?”
“Because you’re not a child.” The bite in Audrey’s tone had troubled Emily. “But a grown man who should know how to take care of himself by now.”
Harrison glowered down at them. “She’s a dolt.”
Emily hadn’t known what that word meant. Not then, but she’d figured it out soon enough.
“I’ve always wondered if I was the cause of their strife,” she confessed to Luke now. “I think they disagreed on how to handle me.”
The pen landed on the table with a clatter. “What does that mean? Handle you?”
“My dad thought I needed to be p-pushed. That I could correct my speech and become more outgoing if I only tried harder.” A humorless smile worked its way to her face. “I sure proved him w-w-wrong.”
In the darkening room, she struggled to read Luke’s expression.
“What about the will?” he asked. “Do you think he meant to leave your mom the money?”
She stared into her empty wineglass. “It’s possible. He would’ve heard about her illness, and he probably knew we were drowning in bills. Maybe he meant the money to be used for her care? But I think his wife was right that he wouldn’t have w-wanted it to come to me.”
“How much are we talking?”
“A million.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
It was a lot of money, and Emily hated every stupid penny of it, not only for the stress it’d caused her mom, but for the constant, daily reminder it served that her mom was gone. Emily would’ve happily given all the money back for the chance to spend just one more day with Audrey.
She’d been doing her best to get rid of the money and so far had spent well over half of it buying Mina’s house and donating to researchers working to find a cure to the disease that’d killed her mom.
“So it’s possible your stepmom has motive enough to make you uneasy?” The low timbre of Luke’s voice intruded upon her thoughts.
Emily shrugged. “Or her kids might.”
The heavy lashes shadowing his cheeks flew up. “You have siblings?”
“Two.” The callused-over notch on her heart gave a little wrench. “I’ve never m-met them. It’s possible they don’t even know I exist. Or didn’t, until Harrison’s will was read.”
“You’ve never met your siblings?” Disbelief tinged his tone. “Any idea where they are now?”
“One goes to school in California. UCLA, I think. The other is married and lives in Denver.”
“What are their names?” He wrote down the names she gave him.
“I seriously doubt any of this is relevant. If I wanted a million dollars, I wouldn’t think throwing a rock through a window might help me get it.”
A hard edge crept into his voice when he said, “You never know what motivates desperate people.”
In the silence, he gazed at her, and a delicate thread of sensuous light seemed to knit between them.
A disarming warmth came over his expression. “Thank you for telling me all this.” The tender murmur suggested he referred to more than the rock or investigation.
Then he flipped his notepad shut and lifted it off the table. When he pushed to his feet, she stood with him. He brushed past her and the heat from his body arched through her with the barest contact. At the front door, she held it open and he stepped out into the balmy night.
Shadows cut across his face when he turned back. “Goodnight, Emily.”
She was easing the door shut when his voice reached out from the darkness.
“See you tomorrow.”
She yanked open the door. “Wait, what?”
But he’d disappeared into the night.
The pounding inside Emily’s skull began as the first fingers of daylight peeked around the edge of her curtains. She drew the covers up over her head.
Get up.
Shut up.
She lifted her head, listening. The pounding resumed, louder this time, and she realized it originated from her back door. She squinted at the clock on her nightstand and groaned. It wasn’t yet six thirty in the morning.
Her head dropped onto her pillow. It must be Mina. Who else would come around to the back of the house—?
She bolted upright. Slipping from the warm nest of her bed, she dragged the quilt with her and wrapped it around her shoulders. When she reached the mudroom, the obnoxious thumping rattled the glass-paned door. Through the frosted window, she made out the figure of a man.
Her heart wedged in her throat, she yanked open the door and blinked into the morning light.
Luke stood in a stream of golden sunlight, his dark hair shining and his bright eyes sparkling like precious jewels. His light blue T-shirt molded to his broad shoulders and lean, well-muscled torso. She grew a little light-headed.
A frown marred his features. “Why aren’t you up?”
Her scowl matched his. “Wh-why are you here?”
“I’m reporting for duty.”
Confused, she gave a small shake of her head.
“I’m here to cook breakfast. Unless…?” He cut her with a look. “You weren’t teasing me with that crack about me being your chef, were you?”
She gaped at him. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was doing.”
He shook his head. “We need to work on your delivery.”
Then he pushed past her.
With a huff, she scrambled into the kitchen after him. “You don’t have to do this. I’m perfectly capable of m-making breakfast.”
“I’ve seen what you can do to a cookie.” He plunked a grocery tote onto the countertop. “I shudder to think what might happen to a poor, defenseless omelet.”
“I can cook.”
“That’s debatable.”
Well, she could learn. Any skill she might have had, had been geared toward preparing food her mom could swallow without choking.
“Oh, but I should warn you.” He pulled open a cupboard door and then closed it. “I’m not cheap.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this about what Max said?”
He ignored her to draw open the next cupboard door, and close it, too.
“Because I don’t think he was serious wh-when he made that remark.”