“But you put a gun to my back,” I said in protest. “You forced me into the cab.”
“Och, I wouldna.” He pulled out a small, cylindrical cigar case and waved it for everyone to see. “I prefer to rely on my charms, but occasionally I employ my traveling humidor.”
I frowned, then grumbled, “Felt like a gun, anyway.”
Robin slapped Tommy’s knee. “You scared her half to death.”
“I’m sorry, love,” he said, his hands splayed in apology. “But all’s well that ends well, right?”
Derek gave Angus a pained look.
Angus shrugged. “The man does good work on the whole.”
It turned out that Tommy, the very man who’d snatched me off the street that afternoon, was a respected private eye who regularly worked in conjunction with the police department. In the end, Derek took the news rather philosophically, but I was still miffed that someone in law enforcement would seize me off the street and scare the crap out of me like that.
But yeah, all was well that ended well, I thought, after another two more healthy sips of Scotch. Thanks to that ride in the cab, I was pretty well convinced that Robert Burns and the English princess weren’t the secret lovers Kyle had sworn they were. If Kyle had manipulated me, I hated to admit it wouldn’t have been the first time.
As far as the unknown poems in the book were concerned, I would need to talk to an expert in that area. Not tonight, though. I was well on my way to being toasty-roasty and ready for beddie.
Uh-oh, waxing poetic again.
Robin leaned across Angus to whisper to me, “What’s with the cow bitch?” She jutted her chin in Minka’s direction.
I leaned my elbow on Angus’s convenient thigh-he didn’t seem to mind at all-and shook my finger at Robin. “Do you remember what I told you about her?”
“Yeah, she’s the beeyotch who stabbed you,” she hissed, referring to an incident in my past when Minka had tried to injure me as a means of getting me out of the way so she could move in on my boyfriend at the time. She’d been dogging me ever since.
“Yeah, and did you see how she tried to sit with us?” I said, suddenly feeling as if I’d been transported back to high school, to the times when we used to gossip and giggle with our pals.
“I saw it, my friend,” Robin said. “She’s, like, such a loser.” She grinned and added in a more hushed voice, “It’s because we’ve got the cute guys at our table.”
“You betcha.” I glanced at the three interesting men and was impressed despite myself. And maybe I had regressed to high school, because I suddenly felt like I might pass out. Whether it was from the Scotch, my aches and pains, or the men, I couldn’t say, but I had to take a few fortifying breaths to get myself back on track. Passing out would be tacky and a bad way to end a really fun day. Well, fun except for a murder attempt or two.
“Three cutie-patooties,” Robin said, slurring her words. So it wasn’t just me. She took a quick peek at the other table and rolled her eyes. “Minka keeps laughing too loud, then looking right at this table. It’s like she’s dying for attention.”
“That’s exactly what she wants,” I said. “Just don’t make eye contact.”
“Okay.” But Robin couldn’t help casting another glance Minka’s way, then flinched when the evil woman held up her claw and raked the air as she glared daggers back at Robin.
“Gah,” Robin said, staring wide-eyed at me. “Me scared.”
“I warned you,” I said, draining my glass. “Never underestimate the fearsome power of the cow bitch.”
Chapter 12
As Tommy called the waitress over for a second round of drinks, I happened to make eye contact with Derek.
Without a word, he stood, held his hand out and helped me up.
The speakers in the pub were blaring vintage U2, so I waved to everyone and said loudly to Robin, “Good night.”
She pouted. “Does this mean I have to leave, too?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. As if she would. “I’m just beat, and I have a class to teach tomorrow afternoon, so I’d better hit the sack.”
“I’ll walk you up,” Derek said, as though anyone doubted his intentions.
“Thank you,” I murmured. I weaved my way around the tables scattered throughout the dark pub and Derek followed closely, his hand touching the small of my back.
Little sparks were igniting inside me, and I was pretty sure it was due to him. I wondered what was about to happen and had to take some deep breaths as we left the pub-and ran right into Mom and Dad.
“Hey, sweets, you look pretty,” Dad said, and kissed my cheek.
“She always looks pretty,” Mom said, kissing my other cheek. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Derek?”
Oooh, boy. Exactly how much wine had they consumed during their anniversary dinner?
“She’s devastating,” Derek said, his voice so deep my toes tingled.
Mom’s eyes widened and she elbowed Derek. “Oh, woof, you sexy beast.”
I gasped.
“How was your dinner?” Derek asked, a broad grin on his face.
“Hey, that place is a gas!” Dad said. “We had a Jordan cabernet tonight that blew me away.”
“Good, I’m glad it worked out.”
“Um, how many bottles did you go through?” I asked cautiously.
“Two, but who’s counting?”
“And a groovy little after-dinner drink,” Mom added. “What’s it called, Jim-Jim?”
Jim-Jim? So not a good sign.
“Drambuie, Louie,” Dad said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
“Yumbo,” she said in as sultry a voice as anyone could muster while saying yumbo.
“Oh, my God.” This was just too much to take.
Mom laid her head on my shoulder. “I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too, Mom,” I said, frowning at Derek, who was taking way too much pleasure in my parents’ state.
Mom turned to face me and gripped my shoulders. “Now listen, sugar bean: I want you to come with us to Rosslyn Chapel tomorrow. All those ancient Templar vibes will help boost your auric field.”
Trying to get past the shock of being called sugar bean, I finally managed to stutter, “I-I’m not sure I-”
“Either that,” she continued as if I hadn’t said a word, “or we take advantage of the two-for-one irrigation special at the green spa. My treat!” She turned to Derek and confided, “I always say, an impacted colon is one bummed-out pooper shooter.” Then she turned back to me. “Whaddaya say, hmm?”
Derek sputtered with laughter.
“Rosslyn Chapel it is,” I said brightly.
“Dandy!” she said.
“Cool!” Dad said. “See you in the morning, kiddo.” Then he grabbed Mom and nudged her toward the pub. “Come on, baby, what say you and me liven up the place with a little conga line?”
“Ooh, conga!” Mom cried, and swung her arms in the air as she danced her way into the pub.
“Oh, dear God,” I whispered.
“They’re plastered,” Derek said with a laugh.
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell,” I muttered.
The next morning, I awoke feeling refreshed and happy.
And alone.
Okay, not so happy. I stared at the ceiling and thought back to the evening before. My life might’ve been notably different this morning, I suppose, if we hadn’t run into my parents.
Talk about a buzz kill. The way I saw it, one minute Derek and I were insanely hot to jump each other, and the next minute, well, he was howling with laughter and I was mortified and searching the lobby for a potted plant to hide behind.
He assured me in the elevator that my parents were the loveliest and most honest people he’d ever met, but let’s face it, my mother had uttered the phrase pooper shooter, and nothing would ever be the same again.
I understood my mother’s need to maintain regularity while she traveled, but for God’s sake, did she have to bring up the subject in front of the man I might’ve awakened next to this morning? I dare anyone to feel sexy with those two words lingering in the air.