“You could stay with me,” he said.
She gaped at him, speechless. “I…what?”
He shrugged, looking vaguely abashed. “It’s a solution.”
“But I…but what about your own work?” she demanded.
“I cleared my schedule for three weeks for Lucia’s house,” he said. “I’m overdue a vacation. I’d take some time for this. Just say the word.”
“But your assistant—”
“I can find Eoin work on someone else’s crew in five minutes,” he said brusquely. “Don’t worry about Eoin. He’s covered.”
That finished all the obvious objections to the outrageous proposal. Now, she had to get down to the truth. “Liam. We don’t have the kind of relationship where I could move in with you. Not even close.”
“You need protection,” he repeated. “Something bad’s happening.”
She shivered. “Well, maybe so, but that’s not the point. I just met you yesterday. All we have is…well, I don’t even know what we have.”
“We had breakfast,” he offered.
“Do not make fun of me,” she flared. “This is not a joke.” She groped for something else to say, but she was lost. The silence was fraught with exquisite tension.
“It wouldn’t be much of a leap,” he said.
“What leap? What are you talking about?” she asked crabbily.
“From where we are to the kind of relationship where I could offer for you to stay with me. There’s a gap of”—he held up his thumb and forefinger with barely any space between them—“about that much.”
Oh. Whoa. Shivery tingles chased themselves across the entire surface of her body. “I’ve known you for one day.”
“Time is an illusion,” he said.
“Don’t give me that lofty metaphysical crap. It just pisses me off.”
“Okay. Just the facts, ma’am.”
She grunted, unwilling to be cajoled. “So is this an exchange of goods and services? I shack up with you, in return for what?”
“No! Do I strike you as such an opportunistic pig, then?”
“Whoa!” His anger gave her something to push against. “Excuse me! Maybe it’s just me, but I couldn’t help noticing a certain wave of hurricane-force sexual energy coming off you, Liam!”
He wiped rain off his face, frowning. “Sorry. It’s been a strange day.”
“Tell me about it,” she agreed fervently.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Big arms. A lot of chest.
She hadn’t touched his body yet. And he was being so careful with her. Like she was made of glass. Which was exactly how she felt. Fragile, brittle. On the edge of disaster, poised to fall. No need to go take a running leap for it. “Things are strange right now, and it’s a bad—”
“Strange times call for bold gestures. Brave risks.”
She snorted. “I’m actually not that brave.”
“Bullshit. You have stainless steel for a spine. Like your mother.”
The mention of Lucia made her grope for her box of tissues.
He waited for a moment. “I’m not a cop or an investigator, Nancy. I’m just a carpenter. I can’t promise to help you solve this. But I can make damn sure that nobody messes with you. That, I can commit to.”
Her eyes dropped, heat infusing her face.
“Let me help,” he urged. “At least think about it.”
Oh, yeah. Think about it she would. Every waking second. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
He crouched until his face was level with hers. “And stay with your sisters. Do not stay in your apartment alone.”
“Liam, you cannot imagine how tiny our living spaces are—”
“Please, Nancy. Please. For me.”
The low intensity of his voice moved her. He really cared. He wasn’t just throwing his weight around. “Okay,” she heard herself say.
“Swear it,” he said. “On your mother’s grave.”
She flinched. “Oh, for God’s sake—”
“For Lucia’s sake. She would want you to be safe.”
She sighed. “I swear, on my mother’s grave, that I will stay with my sisters tonight,” she said, through gritted teeth.
“Indefinitely. Until we know exactly what the fuck is going on.”
“You aren’t shy about bringing out the big guns, are you?”
“Not in the least,” he said flatly. “Not when it’s this important.”
“Fine,” she snapped. She shut the car door. Manipulator.
He knocked on her window. She rolled it down. “Now what?”
“Is an Irish pub in Queens neutral ground?” he asked.
Nancy blinked. “Huh?”
“You said a date had to be on neutral ground,” he said. “I’ll be at Malloy’s, on Queen’s Boulevard, tomorrow night. Ever been to a seisiun?” He waited for her nod, and went on. “Malloy’s is a good one. The Guinness is good, the players are good, the food’s good. Irish stew, burgers. The seisiun’s from ten until two. I’d like to see you there.”
“Huh. This is backward,” she told him. “First you invite me to live with you. Then you ask me out.”
He shrugged. “I try to be original.” He sank down onto one knee, his face level with hers at the open window. “You’re over the limit.”
She gave him a jerky nod. A grin flashed over his face, and he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. The burst of delight made her body clench and thrum.
“I’ve never felt anything like that,” she whispered.
“Me neither.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re cold. Turn the car on, and get the heat going,” he said. “You’re going to wait for the investigating officer?”
“Yeah, might as well,” she said. “Since the evidence techs don’t want me in the house till they’re done.”
“Okay. Tomorrow night, then.” He smiled at her as he backed slowly away. Then he climbed into his truck and drove away.
She touched the tip of her tongue to her lips, still tasting him.
Chapter
5
“Once more, from the top.” Vivi stretched out on Nell’s battered sofa, propping up her slender legs. Her gilded toenails gleamed in the flickering candlelight. She peered at her photocopy of Liam’s transcription of Lucia’s letter with a frown of intense concentration. “So something bad happened to her marriage, and to her father. But what? When did she come to America, anyway?”
Nancy pondered that as she petted the wildly purring cat curled in her lap. “Nineteen sixty-five or before, I think. She taught art history at Beardsley for thirty-five years before she retired. And that was over eight years ago.”
“What was the name of the town she came from?” Vivi asked.
“Castiglione Sant’Angelo,” Nell replied. “In Tuscany.” She turned the Fabergé picture frame that held the old photograph of Lucia’s father. “Maybe that’s why she changed her name, from de Luca to D’Onofrio. Because of what happened to her father,” she mused. “I asked her once why she changed it, but she didn’t want to talk about it. You know, I asked her to go to Italy with me once, to do an art and architecture tour, back when I was an undergrad. And she snapped my head off. I was so taken aback, I never mentioned it again. To anyone.”
“Huh. So let’s run it down again,” Vivi said. “The things we did not know about and still don’t.” She totted them off on her fingers. “Her father. Her marriage. The mysterious object. The system of checks and balances designed to protect our sisterly love. Whatever the necklaces are the key to. Then, to make things even more interesting, we have the mysteries of the purloined letter, the murdered jeweller, and the pissed-off burglar. That’s a lot of mysteries. Makes a girl hungry.” She rolled up onto her side and reached for a slice of the pizza on the coffee table.