A fragment floated by, and he grabbed it, turning to Deegan. “Your parents gave you the green light to intern with Mollie because of her relationship with Leonardo Pascarelli, didn’t they?”
Deegan seemed surprised at his insight, and admitted grudgingly, “That’s right. It allowed them to save face. They let me intern with Mollie or they’d have had to start talking cutting off the trust fund, and they don’t want to do that. Too complicated and time-consuming, too messy. So, the Leonardo connection gave them an out.” He poured himself a margarita, shrugging, distancing himself from his own emotions about his parents. He was twenty-one, the legal drinking age. What did he care? “It allowed them to postpone our day of reckoning another few months.”
“I see. Does Mollie know or does she actually think she’s getting to teach you something?”
He went momentarily sullen as he replaced the pitcher and sat back with his margarita glass. “She’s doing right by me. I’m trying to do right by her.”
“You learning anything?”
“I do my job.”
In other words, up yours, Tabak. Deegan Tiernay not only was spoiled, Jeremiah decided, but an arrogant little shit. Of course, the kid was twenty-one. He was trying to sort out his identity and responsibilities and probably had no idea, really, how goddamned good he had it. He was rich, he was Michael and Bobbi Tiernay’s only son, Diantha Atwood’s only grandson, and he had a pretty, older, successful girlfriend. Why not be full of himself?
“I don’t think Mollie realizes the extent her relationship with Leonardo colors how people around here think about her,” Deegan went on. “She doesn’t flaunt it or use it to her advantage-she doesn’t think that way-but other people do. Other people,” he said, sipping his margarita, “meaning most everyone around here.”
“Her clients?”
He shook his head. “The Leonardo connection might get them at first, but it wouldn’t keep them-and once they get to know her, they forget about him. It’s just going to be hard for her to figure out who her real friends are and who’s just pretending because of her godfather.” Deegan studied Jeremiah a moment, his damp skin drying quickly in the last of the day’s sun. “I know you think I’m a jerk. No, no, it’s okay, you’re not the first. I just…well, I do respect Mollie.”
“That’s good,” Jeremiah said.
Griffen scrambled out of the pool and snatched a towel out from under Deegan, tossing it over her shoulders as she pulled up another lounge chair and poured herself a margarita. “Are you two talking about Mollie while she’s up trying to figure out what to wear? Shame on you.” She smiled, sliding onto her chair. “Men.”
Mollie emerged from the brick walk and joined them on the terrace. She wore a little black dinner dress with a jacket that hid her bruised neck. Simple earrings, no rings, no bracelets, no necklace. Hair brushed out, pale and shimmery in the fading light. She was, Jeremiah thought as she gave him a curt nod, more stunning than she realized.
Also not sure about having him behind her gates. “As you can see, I’m running late.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned to Deegan. “Stay as long as you like. You remember how to lock up?”
“Yep. Have a good time. Griffen and I will make sure the silver stays safe.”
Mollie gave a mock shudder. “I’m beginning to understand why my parents don’t own anything. It’s too complicated.”
“What’s so complicated about locking the door and turning on the alarm system?” Deegan was highly amused. “Ah, the different worlds we live in. See you in the morning, Mollie.”
“Thanks for letting us hang out here,” Griffen said.
“No problem.”
“If the phone rings, do you want us to answer it?”
Mollie hesitated, then shook her head. “Let voice mail take it.”
Griffen nodded, and from the seriousness of her expression, Jeremiah assumed Mollie had told her about the threatening call earlier that afternoon. But she started out briskly on the walk, and he followed. “They’re madly curious about us.”
“I didn’t expect them to be here when you arrived.”
“I’ll bet. They’re going to grill you tomorrow. They might even stick around until you come home tonight. Doesn’t help that you look as if you’re going off with the devil himself.”
She cocked her head at him. “Who knows? Maybe I am.”
“Ah,” he said, “this must mean I’m not getting dinner.”
“Explaining you to my intern and my best friend is one thing.” The garage door was already open, and she unlocked the passenger door to the Jag. “Explaining you to Leonardo’s friends is quite another. And I don’t want to be duplicitous and let them believe you’re someone you’re not.”
Presumably that would be someone she’d kiss on the hood of a car in a Miami parking garage. “Then why am I going?”
“Because the dinner party is in a large house with extensive grounds. I can drop you off at the end of the driveway, and you can skulk.” She smiled at him, coolly, and Jeremiah realized on some level she was enjoying herself. “I imagine you’re good at skulking.”
He climbed into the passenger seat. “Save me a doggy bag?”
The smile wanted to become genuine, but she’d had a hard day. “I’ll slip an éclair in my handbag.” She went around and climbed in behind the wheel. “Shall we?”
“I’m game.”
She turned the key in the ignition and backed out, reshutting and locking the gates with a flick of a button. She sighed, her grip visibly loosening on the wheel. “This is crazy. You and I both know the thief isn’t going to strike tonight, not at a small dinner party in a private home, even if I am the common denominator. It’s not as if he’s struck every time I’ve gone anywhere.”
“True.” Jeremiah watched her gnaw on a corner of her lower lip, imagined himself doing much the same. It could be a long night.
“Which means you’re here on my account.” She glanced over at him, her eyes clear and focused. “You don’t want me out alone. Am I right?”
“You’re right.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Aren’t you going to elaborate?”
“Elaborating,” he said, “would only make you nervous, and I don’t want to ruin your dinner.”
Her eyes, lightly made up in a way that emphasized their blueness, narrowed on him as she slowed for a stop sign. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jeremiah settled back in the comfortable, expensive seat. “It means I think you wanted me here tonight because you don’t want to be out alone, and I happen to agree.”
“Oh. You’re still being protective.”
He bit back his amusement. “And you, Mollie, are being deliberately dense. If I were just being protective, you wouldn’t give a damn. You’d dismiss it as Tabak-the-SOB-reporter. What gets you is that I care.”
“About your work,” she said stubbornly.
“About you.” At her flush and abrupt pull-out from the stop, Jeremiah laughed outright. “You see? Bad enough you’ll have to eat dinner with me hovering in the bushes. Now you’ll have to fret about someone caring enough about you to risk Dobermans and electric fences.”
She frowned. “I have a lot of friends who care about me.”
“Trust me, darlin’,” he said, laying on the accent, “I’m different.”
Leonardo’s friends lived in a pale coral stucco house on the water. Mollie dropped Jeremiah off at the end of their winding, narrow driveway, where the grounds were thick with palms, vines, banyans, and live oaks. The property was unfenced. He could go unnoticed for days, never mind an evening.