“It can’t be too difficult,” Deirdre said. “People have been performing it for five hundred years.”
“It’s brilliant,” Drew said, brave enough to risk the evil eye in defense of the Bard. “I love listening to it, reading it, seeing it performed. I just feel a little dorky doing it alone. My kid brother and I share a room, and he’s a real pain in the a—neck when I try to practice lines. You know how brothers are.”
“No, I don’t,” Emma said. Was that wistfulness Stone detected in her voice? “It’s just Mom and me at home.”
Drew almost looked envious. “Wow. That must be awesome when you’re trying to practice.”
Maybe it was great at times like that, Stone mused, the hint of loneliness in Emma’s dark eyes echoing memories of his own childhood. It was the rest of the time that stunk.
“Well, I’d better head out and get busy humiliating myself in front of my brother,” Drew tried damned hard to get Emma to smile. “I’m not as good at memorizing lines as you are.” Drew turned to Stone. “You should see Emma. She’s a shoo-in for the drama department Hall of Fame. She’s got like this photographic memory. No one learns lines as well as she does.”
“Actually,” Emma said, “I just came out to breakfast with Mom and Mr. Stone because Mom made me. You know, that whole quality family time deal.”
Deirdre made a strangled sound in her throat, but, to her credit, didn’t say what she was thinking. Stone figured she didn’t have to. Emma already knew.
Emma gave her mother her most irresistible smile. “I know I said I’d come with you, but running lines is more important than breakfast. And it’s not like you don’t have company.”
Deirdre’s eyes widened, and Stone knew just what she thought about the company Emma had tricked her into keeping.
Emma turned back to Drew. “Mr. Stone is helping with the restoration of March Winds’ ballroom.”
“That’s great. You know, people used to say the house was haunted.” Drew looked as if he found the possibility fascinating.
“March Winds haunted?” Emma echoed. “Really?” But there was something just off-key in her astonishment that made Stone sense some hidden joke. Didn’t these McDaniels ever just say what they meant, straight-out?
“Mom, you don’t mind if I go off with Drew, do you?”
Bad question, Stone thought, watching Deirdre grind her tooth enamel to dust.
“To work on the play,” Emma added, as if she’d read his thoughts. “You know how seriously I take my work. I want to be rehearsing off-script as soon as possible, and working with Drew, I’ll pick up my cues a lot faster.”
“I should make you sit right here and eat pancakes with the rest of us,” Deirdre threatened.
“I know you should.” Emma’s grin blazed as she slid gracefully out of the booth. “But you won’t.”
If the boy hadn’t been standing there, Stone would bet Emma would’ve dropped a kiss on her mom’s head. She leaned close to Deirdre, and Stone had to strain to decipher her whisper.
“I was planning to ditch you somehow, anyway,” Emma said, devilment lighting her animated features. “So you and Mr. Stone could be alone. Have fun. You can kill me later.”
Emma flipped them both a wave and breezed out of the diner, Drew Lawson a few steps behind her.
Deirdre all but dove off the end of the bench, and slid into the one Emma had vacated. Hell, she didn’t have to look so relieved about it. It wasn’t as if he was planning to bite her. At least not in any way that hurt. Now, making her moan because she liked it so damned much, that was another possibility altogether. Heat stole through him as he imagined skimming her lightly with his teeth, wondered where she’d like it best.
“I’m going to have to ground her for the rest of her life. Maybe the witch had the right idea with Rapunzel. Lock her in a tower and be done with it.”
Stone chuckled. “It’s not funny!” Deirdre objected, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “She did this on purpose. Tried to…well…”
“Set us up?” He let his voice drop low, husky. He knew damned well the effect it had on most women. “I had that figured out in the first five minutes.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come along in the first place!”
He glanced at the curve of her throat, wondering if teething that spot would make her scream.
She looked all the more flustered, and she didn’t even know his virtual lovemaking had dropped a few inches lower to where he could just make out the top edge of her bra through her white shirt. “What were you thinking?” she demanded.
Stone’s gaze dropped to the full curves of her lips. What would she say if he told her the truth? That he’d wanted her from the moment he’d met her. Tried to convince himself he’d just played right into that undeniable male pitfall of wanting what he couldn’t have. But seeing her again, he’d had to face the truth: that purely physical hunger hadn’t abated.
It bit deeper than ever, setting his nerves on edge, making his body harden and his logic desert him. What he wanted was a hellaciously sexy one-night stand so he could get Deirdre McDaniel out of his system. But one night wouldn’t be nearly enough for what he wanted to do to her.
He crossed one leg over the other, trying to mask a reaction that would embarrass a green kid like Drew Lawson, let alone a grown man who should be able to control his reaction to a woman, hot as she might be.
What the hell was the matter with him? Deirdre McDaniel was just another woman. And this was just another case, Stone tried to tell himself. Yeah, and the Titanic was just another boat.
The woman and everyone around her were dangerous as all get-out. Because she made him cross lines he’d sworn never to cross again. Feel things like guilt, responsibility. Hell, he got paid for digging up secrets, exploding bombs in people’s lives. He’d gotten used to it, cynical as it sounded, mastered a cool detachment that meant survival. But something about the McDaniel family stripped all that away.
They’d forced him to see they were different. Paying back not only stolen money that had been left as a supposed legacy by Finn O’Grady’s father, but a hundred thousand dollars her old man had gambled away, money they’d never seen.
What was he doing here? Stone could barely admit it even to himself: he was trying to make things right.
He stiffened, feeling Deirdre’s angry gaze boring into him, knowing she was waiting for an answer. Damned if he could tell her the truth. He groped for something that would give him cover.
“Actually, watching you in action here has been a big relief,” he drawled. “I thought it was just something about me that got your Irish up, but it looks like you hate the whole male race. You could have given that poor kid a break. From what I could see, he was a mom’s dream come true.”
“Not this mom’s.” Bitterness curled Deirdre’s lips. “In my experience I’ve found out that if something looks perfect, it’s usually too good to be true.”
Stone watched old pain flicker in Deirdre’s eyes, found himself wondering if a man had put it there.
“God, you make me so furious!” she snapped. “What were you thinking, coming here in the first place?”
“How much fun it would be to tick you off.”
“Next time don’t bother to go to so much effort. You pretty much tick me off every time you open your mouth.”
“Yeah, well, I have problems with your mouth, too.” Every time I see it I want to put my tongue in it.
He groped for some way to defuse the heat Deirdre McDaniel had stirred up in him without even trying. Hell, what would happen if the woman ever gave him the green light? Spontaneous combustion?
Never happen, buddy, a voice inside him echoed. Not in a million years. But she was here right now, trapped in this booth with him. A week ago he wouldn’t have thought that possible, either, would he? Still, he sensed if he let her know what she did to him, she’d ditch him faster than Emma had ditched breakfast for Drew Lawson.
Think, Stone, think. Don
’t let the woman know she makes you sweat….
He should have fired off some edgy quip, something to irritate or distract, or make her laugh.
Instead he said the thing he least expected—the truth.
“You know, you’ve got a great kid. Even if she is anything but subtle.”
Deirdre’s chin bumped up. “Yeah. Emma’s terrific. You’ll forgive me for being honest. But you’re not exactly the kind of company I want her around.”
“Because I have a Y chromosome?”
“Because you apparently killed someone.”
Stone went still. “Did I?”
“That convict said you did, and—and you admitted yourself that you lost your badge. You must have done something terrible enough to deserve it.”
“Just ask my ex-wife.”
“As for the—the details—”
“Oh, it’s all there. A matter of public record. Check at the library in the old newspapers, March 11, eight years ago.” Anger, frustration from another lifetime surged through Stone. Hell, he’d thought he was done with all that burning up inside over things he could never change. But Deirdre’s condemnation ate at him as if the whole thing had happened yesterday—the stifling courtroom, reporters thronging the courthouse steps, the death of the man he’d resolved to be when Tony had taken a rebellious punk and turned him into the son he’d never had. For an instant he hated Deirdre for dragging all that garbage through his memory again. As if he could ever really forget. He took aim at her most vulnerable spot, fighting dirty, the only way he knew now.
“You want all the gory details, sweet thing, have Emma help you do a search at the library. What she turns up ought to scare the kid shitless of me. But then, wait. That won’t work. Emma thinks I’m some kind of fancy home repair guy, doesn’t she?”
Deirdre swallowed hard. “Don’t try to turn this around on me.”
“There’s no trying involved when it comes to hitting such an easy target. You want to judge me, lady? Just remember, you’re no straight shooter yourself.”
“Emma…the situation is complicated.”
“When I mentioned her dad, Emma made it crystal clear how she feels about this search of yours. Cases like this can get messy. Result in collateral damage you never expect. You may not think it’s fair, but the truth is, this isn’t just about you, Deirdre, just like the case I got hung for wasn’t just about me. Other people might get hurt. Like Emma.”
For an instant he glimpsed a vulnerability in Deirdre he’d never seen before, was glad he’d gotten back some of his own. But her face hardened, leaving her more determined than ever. “You let me worry about my daughter,” she said. “You worry about what I’m paying you for.”
Whatever you’re paying, lady, Stone thought, it won’t be enough.
“So let’s get on with it. What’s your next move?”
“Finding the woman your brother told me about—this friend of your mother’s who watched Cade while your mother went out to meet her lover.”
Why didn’t he just say meet “your father” and be done with it? Stone wondered. That was obviously the way Deirdre was determined to think of this total stranger. But Jake couldn’t do it, because even six years later he could still picture Martin McDaniel, that craggy old man with eyes like a hawk and a “take no prisoners” scowl when his family was threatened.
And Stone had threatened the McDaniel family’s happiness before, set loose a disaster that had almost cost Cade McDaniel his wife.
“I’m going with you,” Deirdre insisted.
“You just had a major meltdown because I came to eat a few pancakes in your presence. Now you want to tie yourself around my neck like a damned millstone while I do my job? That’s the most idiotic idea I’ve ever heard of.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your opinion.”
He wanted to stay angry, wanted to blast the woman for cutting him to the quick. With a weapon she didn’t even know she had? a voice whispered inside him. Be fair, Stone. Hell, if you had a daughter like Emma, you wouldn’t want her hanging around a bad cop, either.
The fight seemed to have gone out of Deirdre, as well, but not that tough-as-nails determination. “This is about me, Stone. Me,” she said, her beautiful, brave eyes revealing for just a heartbeat that haunting pain he hadn’t been able to forget. “I’ve heard nothing but lies my whole life. Now, I intend to hear the truth.”
But whose truth? Stone wondered. Her mother’s? Her father’s? Did she have any idea how different from each other they could be? Hell, all she had to do was look at the mess Finn’s father had made—not only tearing up the life of the woman he’d stolen from, but his own daughter’s life and the life of the man who loved her.
He’d left them with a fight that wasn’t theirs, guilt they didn’t deserve, while they made choices so tough Stone had hardly believed honor like that still existed. Or love…
Hell, if he’d known the whole truth, Stone wondered if he would have just turned and walked away. Never told them…
But hadn’t he learned the hard way that sometimes the truth doesn’t matter? In the O’Grady case he’d done what he’d been paid to do. And Cade McDaniel and his pretty wife had suffered the consequences.
This case would be different, Stone promised himself. He’d make damned sure Deirdre McDaniel’s story had a better ending.
One that wouldn’t stalk him on nights he couldn’t sleep.
CHAPTER 6
MAYBE A WEEK hadn’t done anything to improve Jake Stone’s attitude, Deirdre thought as she glanced across his pick-up truck’s interior at the sexy-as-all-get-out P.I., but then, she hadn’t hired him for his charming personality. It was results she’d wanted, and her instincts about his skill had been dead-on.
He’d found her mother’s friend four days after what Emma called “The Great Lagomarcinos Caper,” and, miracle of miracles, the woman now lived three hours away from Whitewater. Driving distance, Stone had said on the phone, but still six hours in a car and God knew how long for the interview itself. There was no sense in Deirdre throwing away her whole day, especially since she’d been so all-fired mad when Emma had trapped her into spending half an hour with him at the diner.
Deirdre still ground her teeth when she thought of how skillfully Stone had tried to play her: the P.I. attempting to convince her he was doing her a favor by trying to keep her away from the one person who might be able to throw some light on the questions that had been tearing Deirdre up inside.
She’d told him where he could put his “favor” in no uncertain terms. There was no way she was going to learn about her birth father secondhand. She had questions of her own to ask. And there were others Norma Davenport wouldn’t be able to answer in words. Deirdre would only learn some truths by looking into the woman’s eyes. If being trapped in a car with Stone for six hours was the price she had to pay, so be it.
There was only one glitch in that line of reasoning, Deirdre thought wryly. It was a whole lot easier to say being this close to Stone was worth it than to actually do it.
From the moment she’d slid into the passenger seat, she’d felt claustrophobic, as if Stone’s attitude took up even more room than his six-foot-four body.
He’d looked like Mr. Professional for the first hour of the drive, his white dress shirt starched, his long, sleek hair caught back with some sort of fastener with a silver Celtic design. And as for coming up with conversation, that was one problem she didn’t have to worry about at all. Stone was so preoccupied with his cell phone from the moment they pulled away from March Winds that he might as well have been alone.
Deirdre used the hours to focus on the meeting ahead, writing down in a spiral notebook every question she might have for this woman so she wouldn’t forget. And yet, as the landscape whizzed by, her own agitation built along with Stone’s, the truck’s cab seeming to shrink around them until there wasn’t enough oxygen for either.
She slanted a glance at Stone, the deep stress lines
carved into his rugged face making him look even more ruthless, his hard tone making her wonder just how far he’d go if someone crossed him. Or had he already proved that eight years ago with his gun? Stone left yet another terse message, demanding someone call him, then turned his head to glare at Deirdre.
“What did you tell Emma?”
The question jolted Deirdre like a live wire, coming out of the blue. Damn the man, it was none of his business. “I didn’t tell her anything. She’ll be at school while we’re gone.”
Stone grimaced. “She’s a smart kid. Sooner or later she’s going to suspect something is up.”
Stone’s warning only fed Deirdre’s growing dread. If Emma’s keen instincts where her mother was concerned weren’t enough to put the fear of discovery in Deirdre, there was the distinct possibility that Cade or Finn would spill the truth, however inadvertently. What was that World War II maxim Deirdre could remember her mother saying to the Captain when she wanted to stop something explosive from falling out of the old man’s mouth? “Loose lips sink ships.” But McDaniel mouths were experts at tripping up and landing people in trouble, and Cade and Finn were no exception.
Deirdre pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to push back the feeling of impending doom that had never quite left her since the moment she’d lied to her daughter. She couldn’t let that change the course she’d set. Much as she loved Emma, and loath as she was to hurt or disappoint her, Deirdre wouldn’t knuckle under to guilt.
“People pay me to give them the hard truth,” Stone said, big hands flexing on the steering wheel. “Every day you let pass without leveling with the kid, you’re digging yourself a deeper hole.”
As if Deirdre hadn’t figured that out for herself. She winced, remembering when Stone called last night. Of course Emma had dived for the phone, the delighted sixteen-year-old chattering to Stone for five minutes before she handed the receiver over to Deirdre.
And the girl who would bemoan her lack of privacy whenever Deirdre stayed in the room during Emma’s phone calls hung over Deirdre’s shoulder as if Stone were reading off the numbers of a winning lottery ticket.
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