Seducing the Moon

by Sherrill Quinn

  Sully glanced toward the stairs again. The door at the top of the stairs opened and Brenna stepped out. He ducked into the drawing room and brought his mobile phone to his ear. “Wait a sec.”

  “Sully!” Declan muttered something too indistinct for Sully to catch. “What about the other guy—Andrew What’s-His-Name?”

  “Haven’t seen him yet.” Sully glanced up as Brenna stopped in the doorway. He gave her a smile and a small wave. “Hold on,” he said to Declan. He raised his eyebrows. “Is there something I can do for you?” He fought back a grimace at the opening he’d just handed her.

  She grinned. “No, luv. I’m good. For now.” She gave a waggle of her fingers and walked away, heading down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  Sully exhaled and brought the phone back to his ear. “All right. I’m back.”

  “What the hell is going on over there?”

  Sully shook his head. “Never mind. Look, I’ll let you know as soon as she gets home, all right? And in the meantime, I’ll see what else I can find out about her two other guests. Especially Andrew, since he seems to be something of a phantom.”

  “All right. Good.” Declan paused then said, “The second she gets back—”

  “I’ll call you.” Sully said good-bye and disconnected the call, replacing the phone back in its holder. He poked his head through the drawing room doorway, looking toward the kitchen, and saw Brenna bustling back and forth, towel tucked into her waistband in the front. Looked like she was busy. Time to go snooping.

  Pelicia sat at a corner table in one of her favorite restaurants on High Street and idly sipped her coffee. She’d placed one call to Brenna and had been assured that the Nola was still standing and the guests were happy. And, no, Declan hadn’t been by.

  Which struck her as odd. That was one of the reasons she’d gone ahead with this shopping trip she couldn’t afford—she hadn’t wanted to deal with Declan today. But now it seemed she wouldn’t have had to anyway.

  She shook her head. That seemed to be the way her luck had run the last couple of years—things she braced herself for never materialized, and things she’d never expected to happen smacked her in the face.

  “Pelicia?”

  She looked up to see her dinner date, a friend and former coworker from the hotel. “Hallo, Lizzie.” She put down her cup and stood.

  The tall brunette leaned down a bit and enfolded her in a hug. “It’s so good to see you,” Liz said with a smile as she pulled back. From behind small oval-shaped glasses, her hazel eyes were alight with pleasure. “I’m glad you called me this morning.”

  “I’m glad you were able to meet me on such short notice.” Pelicia sat back down and stared at her friend. Liz had been the one person who’d kept in touch with her after she’d been made redundant, had been the only one willing to put her up if she’d had the space. But she lived in a tiny one-bedroom flat that she already shared with a roommate, and it just hadn’t been feasible.

  The two of them had kept in touch for about six months after Pelicia had returned to the islands, but then life had gotten in the way and they’d stopped corresponding. Pelicia felt badly about that, which was the main reason she’d contacted Liz this morning. Catching up with her friend—and staying caught up—was something she was determined to do.

  Life was too short and sometimes friendships too fleeting to let one go without a fight.

  “So, what brings you to town?” Liz looked up as the server approached the table. After ordering a coffee, she turned her attention back to Pelicia. “Looking for work here?”

  Pelicia raised her eyebrows. “God, no.” Just a little respite from a very determined Irishman. “Anyway, I doubt anyone would hire me. Remember my…troubles?” she asked in a dryly sarcastic tone.

  Liz dismissed that with an airy wave. “People forget. Management changes. You might be surprised what kind of offers you could get now.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Pelicia picked up her cup and took a sip of tepid coffee. “There toward the end, I couldn’t even get people to take my phone call, let alone schedule interviews.”

  “No, I’m not joking.” Liz leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. Slender fingers gripped her cup. “You were the best sous chef we had, Pel. Howard was an idiot to make you redundant.” She grinned. “Now that he’s been made redundant, there just may be a place for you back at the Cardiff.”

  Pelicia turned that over in her mind. Was it really possible that she could come back to London and pick up where she left off?

  The bigger question was—did she want to?

  She had made a home for herself on St. Mary’s, and the B-and-B could be salvageable if this season turned out well. But there—as here in London—the specter of her grandfather’s crime shadowed her. There were people who would believe she was involved regardless of what the final outcome had proved.

  She still had the feeling deep inside that she wanted to start over somewhere new, some place where people didn’t know anything about her background.

  But the idea of sliding back into familiarity and the anonymity a large city like London afforded was equally appealing.

  “I’m in a better position to help you now, and even have a spare room I can put you up in whilst you look for your own place. And you are spending the night with me tonight. We have a lot to catch up on.” Liz sat back and took another sip of coffee. “But think about coming back to the hotel, all right?”

  Pelicia started to respond but stopped at the approach of the waiter. She and Liz both ordered a Caesar salad. Waiting until the waiter moved off, Pelicia looked at her friend. “I can’t help but think about it, Liz.”

  The other woman smiled. “That’s all I ask.” She picked up her water glass and stroked a finger through the condensation. “So, have you seen Declan since…Well, you know.”

  “Funny you should ask.” Pelicia leaned back in her chair. “He came to the islands about four months ago. He’s been staying with Ryder—you remember I’ve mentioned him?”

  Liz nodded. “He’s your father’s employer, right?”

  “Mmm. And friend.” Pelicia shook her head. “I’m not quite sure why Declan’s stayed so long. Well—” She gave a snort. “Except to torment me.”

  “And did you enjoy the, ah, torment?” Liz waggled her eyebrows. When Pelicia sat there and stared at her, she went on in a seemingly casual tone, “I can always tell when someone’s been laid, m’dear. The residual glow is good for up to seventy-two hours.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “Uh-uh.” Liz paused, one finger tapping against the side of her nose. “I know these things.”

  Pelicia briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. When she looked at Liz again, the other woman was grinning. “You are making it up.”

  “Maybe, but you answered the question without having to give me an actual ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” She laughed, drawing the attention of nearby diners. Leaning forward, she clasped her hands around her water glass.

  Pelicia sighed. “I suppose so.”

  “You don’t seem happy about it, though.” Liz reached over and put her hand over Pelicia’s, giving her fingers a squeeze. “You still haven’t forgiven him, have you?”

  “You think I should have?” Pelicia sat back and crossed her arms. “He used me.”

  “He loved you.” Liz tapped on the table. “He didn’t use the best judgment in starting up a relationship with you during an investigation, but that just means he’s human.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, sweetie.” Liz sat back so the waiter could place her salad in front of her. “He made a mistake,” she went on as the young man served Pelicia. “Granted, it was a big one. Huge.” As the waiter left, she stabbed into her meal. “Can you really tell me you don’t want to give him a chance to make it right?”

  No, she couldn’t. But she was scared to and she said as much to her friend.

  Liz’s eyebrows went up. “Since when have you be
en afraid of a challenge?”

  “It’s one thing to take risks with my career. I can always start over,” Pelicia responded. “I risked my heart once with Declan, and he tore it apart. I don’t want to go through that again.”

  “Who says you will?” Liz put down her fork. She was as serious as Pelicia had ever seen her. “Listen, Pel. If you don’t at least try to work things out with Declan—because I know how much you love him—you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

  She was right.

  And that scared Pelicia, too.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, Pelicia waited on the side of the road in front of the Nola while the cabbie fetched her packages from the boot of the car. The flight from London with the layover in Newquay, Cornwall, had been uneventful. The trip had given her plenty of time to think about life—in the general sense as well as on a much more mi-crolevel.

  She’d not thought about returning to London to live and work before now—she’d really believed that too many people would remember her humiliation. Would hold it against her.

  But if what Liz said was true…Her stomach leapt with excitement. She could go back to her old life. Go back to where she’d been happy.

  B.D.O. Before Declan O’Connell.

  She smoothed the flowered skirt of her sundress over her hips. Liz had insisted on giving the dress to her, saying that she hadn’t worn it in a year and it was time for it to go. The bright yellow had cheered Pelicia, and it hadn’t taken too much persuading to get her to put it on.

  She gazed around her. Regardless of the hope she tried to mute at the thought of going back to London, coming back to the Isles of Scilly—those fortunate isles—had filled her with a sense of familiarity, a sense of returning that had surprised her. And as the taxi made its way from the airport across the island to Hugh Town, she wondered if, after all, she had made a home for herself on St. Mary’s.

  The cabbie handed over her packages and took payment of her fare with a crooked grin. “I thought maybe you were heading back to London for good.”

  Now there was a thought. One she’d had rolling around in her head ever since dinner with Liz last night. For now, though, she smiled and shook her head. “No, Fred, I have a B-and-B to run here, didn’t you know?”

  His grin widened. “Well, it’s good to have you back on the island, Pelicia. You were missed.”

  She warmed at that. Fred was a kind man, and she appreciated that quality now more than ever. He got into the cab. Pelicia waved good-bye with the couple of fingers she could spare. He pulled away and headed toward the center of town.

  She turned toward the bed and breakfast. Struck anew by the realization that she was glad to be back, she stared a moment at the Nola. The granite house had been repaired, the damage whisked away as if it had never happened. The flowers in the front garden gave the bed and breakfast a bright, welcoming aspect.

  But as happy as she was to be back, she realized that this was merely the place where she worked, the place that enabled her to earn a living. It wasn’t home.

  Nor was London. But London at least could be a place where she could be productive and feel satisfaction in her career.

  She could make it feel like home again.

  She sighed and trudged forward. She was being pitiful, whining to herself that she didn’t have a home—she had a roof over her head, enough food to eat, friends, and a father who was small in stature but mighty in spirit.

  As always, thoughts of her dad made her grin. She should get over to the Keep to see him more often, but lately, since Declan had been staying there, she’d kept her distance. She knew her dad understood, but she shouldn’t have let her feelings of discomfort mean that she couldn’t visit with her father. Besides, Phelan’s Keep was where she’d spent her childhood—if anywhere was home, that was it.

  Pausing at the front door, she chewed on her lower lip and admitted that the only other place she’d felt at home was when she’d been with Declan. As trite as it might sound, she’d found her home in his arms.

  If she could admit that, perhaps it was time to give Declan another chance. To give herself another chance.

  “Pel!”

  She turned and saw Brenna walking toward her from the side of the house. Pelicia smiled and asked, “How’d things go while I was gone?”

  “Oh, fine. We had an American stop by wanting to check in without a reservation, and of course I had to turn her away. Which is a nice change—means the business is going well.” Brenna brushed a kiss in the air near Pelicia’s right cheek. “And I’m happy to say that all your boys behaved themselves.” She drew back, grinning, and brushed her fringe of blond bangs out of her eyes. “Especially Neal. Talk about fiiiiine.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Pelicia rolled her eyes. Trust Brenna to take advantage of an opportunity when one presented itself. She and Neal had become lovers after Neal’s second stay at the Nola, and Brenna always made sure she was nearby whenever he came to visit. “And Sully and Andrew?”

  Brenna shrugged. “Sully pretty much stayed in the drawing room, though he did sit on the stoop and get some sun for a bit yesterday afternoon.” She shook her head. “Always with his nose in a book.”

  Pelicia frowned. “He didn’t go see any of the sights? The Garrison or Old Town? Or what about the museum or the Heritage Center?”

  “No.” Brenna held her hands out, palms up, in an I-don’t-get-it pose. “He stayed here the entire day.”

  “And Andrew?”

  Another shrug. “Haven’t seen him. But his bed’s been slept in, so I know he came in at some point last night.” She patted Pelicia’s shoulder. “Look, since you’re back, I’m going to head out. I might be able to catch up with Neal.” Her grin was unrepentant.

  “Wait.” Pel dug around in one of the bags and pulled out a small box. “I got these for you.”

  At the sight of the picture of Belgian chocolates on the lid, Brenna gave a little squeal of delight and hugged Pelicia. “You’re such a darling. Thank you!” She wiggled the box. “I know just what—or should I say who—these will go with. Bye.”

  Pelicia watched her go and then twisted the knob and pushed open the door. She was just about to put her packages down when she heard Sully’s voice coming from the drawing room.

  “Would you stop already? You sound like an old woman.”

  That certainly piqued her interest. Not feeling guilty at all for eavesdropping, Pelicia quietly set the paper bags on the floor and straightened, tipping her head to listen as Sully went on with his conversation.

  “She’s outside talking to Brenna right now. My man in London said her day was without incident. As far as he could tell, he was the only one tailing her.”

  She frowned. It sounded like he was talking about her. But why would he be? And to whom?

  And just what did he mean, he was the only one tailing her?

  “Just sit tight, Dec. She’s fine.”

  Dec? He was talking to Declan?

  What the bloody hell!

  “I know you’re worried, mate.” Sully’s sigh was loud. “But she’s fine,” he repeated. “She obviously needed this trip, so give her some time.” There was a short pause then he snorted. “Well, maybe you should listen to her, then.”

  Pelicia waited until he ended the call then she walked over and stood in the open doorway. He looked up at the movement, his eyes widening slightly when he saw her standing there. She folded her arms over her breasts and tried to contain the anger roiling in her gut. “Just how long have you and Declan known each other?” The words came from between clenched teeth.

  To his credit, he didn’t bother to continue the fabrication, though he did let out a sigh and slumped back in the armchair. “Since university.”

  “This was his idea, I assume? Whatever this is.”

  Sully tucked his mobile into its holder on his belt. He stood and walked closer to her. “He’s worried about you. About the shooter.”

  She pursed her lips. �
��Knowing Declan as you do, don’t you think it much more likely someone was shooting at him, not me?”

  He raised his brows. “And they just happened to shoot at him—twice, I might add—when he was with you? Don’t you think that’s unlikely?”

  She decided to ignore his question and asked one of her own. “And I suppose your family’s not in investments, is it?”

  “Actually, we are.” He grimaced. “But I’m also a DCI at the Yard.”

  He was a detective at Scotland Yard. Declan had gone against her wishes—and behind her back, big surprise there—and involved the police. Never mind that Sully had no jurisdiction here. A cop was a cop was a cop.

  A muscle at the outer corner of her left eye twitched. She brought her hand up to press a finger against the tic. “Is your name really Sullivan O’Rourke?”

  He at least had the grace to look shamefaced. “Rory Sullivan. But my friends do call me Sully.” He gave a grin that faded when she didn’t return it.

  Her stomach was churning and her heart was breaking. Declan hadn’t changed. She’d been an idiot to think he would. “And you’re here to…what, Detective Chief Inspector Sullivan? Protect me? Or spy on me?”

  His jaw tightened. “Now, Pel, I understand why you’re upset, but this was done with you in mind. Dec’s trying to keep you safe.”

  “He just couldn’t tell me about it, right? Because I’d get upset or go into histrionics?” She clenched her teeth, hard. Damn that O’Connell. She’d been thinking about opening up and trusting him again, and the whole time he’d conspired to plant a mole in her house. Going behind her back once again. Nothing had changed. “That does it.” She whirled around toward the front door.

  She brushed off Sully’s attempts to appease her and yanked open the front door. It was a ten-minute walk to the wharf—less than that if she power walked—and she was just by-damn angry enough to cover the distance in half that time.

  Declan O’Connell was going to get a piece of her mind. A bloody big piece. And maybe a foot up his arse while she was at it.