"By keeping out of it. Glynnis can be too wide-eyed for her own good sometimes—heck, we got to talking in the first place because she was torn up from discovering the very charming young man currently sweeping her off her feet had his eye firmly on her bank account.
But the fact is, she's of age. If she'd wanted her brother to know her plans, she would have left him a note or called by now, so it's sure as sugar not up to me to fill in the blanks. Plus, I really like David, and I genuinely think he'll be good for her." She took a sip of wine. "If the commando king learns David dared whisk her away, though… Well, I shudder to think what he'll do. Frothing at the mouth would just be the beginning." She looked across the table at her friend. "Boy, I'm starting to think maybe I should've just bought the darn apartment when it went condo. At least then I wouldn't be smack in the middle of this opera."
"No, you'd be thirty grand short of your goal, instead. And for what? Not your dream digs, that's for sure. Your place was a nice enough, but they wanted way too much for a piece of real estate that's not even seven hundred square feet. Hell, I usually equate an asking price like that with something that provides at least a partial view, even if it's one you have to hang out a window to see."
It cheered Lily to hear her decision validated. "You're right. Bless you for reminding me I wasn't particularly attached to it—not enough, at least, to dig into my savings for the down payment and closing costs."
Brilliant sunshine poured through the window. And glancing out at the palm trees rustling their green fronds in the gentle breeze, she let her long-held dream of finally settling in one place to open her own restaurant give her a moment's peace before turning back to the problem at hand. "One thing's for sure," she told her friend. "I'm gonna have to step up my search for somewhere else to live. I was hoping to hold off until I got back from my next gig aboard the Argosy , but the writing's on the wall. Much as I detest letting him get away with driving me off, there's just no living with the guy."
"Now that's not necessarily so." A long skein of artfully streaked butterscotch-colored hair slipped over Mimi's shoulder and she scooped it back behind her. "I'm telling you, sweetie, tell the man the truth. He'll probably be so mortified by how badly he misjudged you that he'll offer you room and board for free." She flashed a cheeky grin. "Then your restaurant kitty will be that much closer to a grand opening."
Lily's laugh was short and skeptical. "I doubt Zach Taylor's spent an embarrassed moment in his life. Besides, I think we're way beyond the kiss-and-make-up stage." A fleeting image of that mouth of his with its thin white scar reminded her libido it still possessed a few red corpuscles capable of generating heat, and she shifted in her seat. "No," she said with extra firmness to make up for it. "My dream will simply have to wait a month or two."
"Well, okay," Mimi said, "but I think you're making a mistake."
Lily gave her a lopsided smile. "Like that would be a first." Then she picked up the menu. "So. Do you know what you're going to have for dessert? I keep hearing great things about the tiramisu here. I have really got to check it out."
Zach opened the front door in response to an authoritative knock and froze in surprise when he saw who stood on the other side. Of all the people he might have expected to land on his porch, John Miglionni wouldn't have even made the top twenty.
But there stood his former Marine buddy all the same, one muscular shoulder propped against the stucco arch, his hands shoved in his slacks pockets as he proffered a lazy smile, teeth startlingly white against his olive-skinned complexion. "Midnight, you ugly son of a bitch," he said easily. "Long time, no see."
"Rocket!" A surge of genuine pleasure shattered Zach's paralysis. Breaking into a huge smile, he stepped forward, and the two men pounded each other on the back in greeting. As they stepped back, Zach's hand whipped out to grasp the other man's sleek black pony-tail and give it a tug. "What's this? I may be ugly, but at least I'm a clean-cut American guy. When did you turn into a pinko radical chick?"
"Screw you, Taylor."
"I don't think so, pal. Some of us still go for the ladies."
They grinned at each other, satisfied to be exchanging insults once again, and for the first time since arriving home, Zach felt like his old self. He waved his friend through the doorway. "Haul your ass in here," he commanded. "God, what's it been, nearly two years? What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
"I had a case that ended up inL.A." John followed Zach into the kitchen, where Zach retrieved a couple of beers from the refrigerator. "Once it was wrapped up, I figured I could hardly be this close and not drop by to say hello."
"You got that right, buddy." He passed the other man a beer and they twisted off the caps, snapped their fingers to send the tops zinging toward the sink, then moved to the kitchen table. "Damn. It's good to see you, John." Gesturing to his friend to take a seat, he pulled out a chair for himself. "How've you been—still getting a big charge out of doing the Sam Spade thing?"
"Yeah, I really like it." Rocket lounged back, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his beer bottle cradled against his flat stomach. "Most of the time, anyhow. Can't say I was crazy about it when it prevented me from making Coop's wedding, but I was right in the middle of a couple of cases that paid the overhead, and I couldn't afford to leave them dangling. Sure hated to miss out on the big event, though. I was dying to meet the bride, since I'm having a hard time picturing the woman capable of getting Ice to the altar."
"You'd like Veronica. She looks a lot like Snow White would've if she'd been getting any."
"You mean she wasn't ?" Rocket stared at him as if he'd just been told Santa Claus was dead. "You can't tell me she wasn't messing around with the dwarves, man. Why the hell you think Dopey had that goofy grin?"
"Lack of oxygen at birth, maybe?" Zach laughed. "You gotta admit she was pretty damn good at keeping up the virginal facade. Or maybe it was just the high, trilly voice that had me fooled. As for Veronica, think our girl Snow with hot blood, and that would be her. She's cute, she's fun, and she's talented. And she's just wild about Coop."
"Sweet. Still, the only way she'll ever get the Miglionni stamp of approval is if I meet her for myself." He took a drink of his beer, then smiled. "Which I actually finally get to do. The case I just finished put me between jobs for the first time in over a year and a half, and I'm taking a little vacation to go up to Fogey, Washington, and spend a few days with them."
"Fossil, you moron," Zach corrected automatically. Then he realized what John's vacation meant for his own plans and swore. When Rocket's jet-black eyes leveled on him and his dark eyebrows raised in easygoing inquiry, however, he merely shrugged. "Sorry," he said. "That'll be good for you. It's just not so great for me. I was about to call you about running a cheek on someone."
"Hey, I can run checks any time, anywhere. Have laptop, will travel—I'm never far from my trusty titanium. Who do you want investigated?"
"A woman by the name of Lily Morrisette." He explained the situation.
"And you're absolutely sure she's pulling a con?" Rocket asked when he finished.
"About as sure as I can be without your background check. I gave her a chance to prove otherwise and she put me off." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know, John, maybe this is my fault."
"How do you figure that?"
"Look at this place. I wanted to give Glynnie what she gave up when she came to live with me at Lejeune. But I might as well have taken out an advertisement that read, 'Naive rich girl, left on her own a lot. Come and get it.'"
Rocket shook his head. "I'd tell you to cut yourself some slack here, bud, but I know you when it comes to your sister. So give me everything you know about Morrisette."