She swiveled around at him, obviously taken aback by his question. “Should there be? A woman can’t be happy and fulfilled without a man in her life?” She thrust her hands on her hips. “Why isn’t there a woman in your life?”
“Who says there isn’t?”
“You don’t have a committed relationship, a partnership, with a woman, Jeremiah. It’s not in your nature.”
He frowned. “It’s not?”
“No. Your only committed relationship is with your work.”
“Which isn’t going too well right now. I’m spending most of my time chasing a story I can’t write.”
“Because it would be unethical,” she said, with just a hint of sarcasm.
Jeremiah grinned at her. “You’re not as hard as you think you are, Mollie. You know you’ve forgiven me for ten years ago.” He moved toward her, enough of a saunter in his gait to aggravate her. He was having fun all of a sudden. And so, he was confident, was she. “It’s just killing you to admit it.”
“You changed my life. All my plans, all my expectations-everything changed after our week together.”
“Maybe it needed changing.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?” He caught up her fingers into his, drew her just a little closer. “That I hurt you?” She blinked rapidly, not answering, and he pressed her fingers to his mouth. “I never meant to hurt you, Mollie. If I could go back and unhurt you, I would.”
He could see her throat tighten, her lips part, a spark of desire in her eyes. When he curved an arm around her back and she said nothing, didn’t pull away, he knew she was going to let the kiss happen. His mouth on hers, the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed up against his. It was the stuff of his dreams for the past decade.
And yet when his mouth did find hers, he couldn’t pretend this was anything but real. Every fiber of him flared, set afire by the taste of her, the feel of her as she wrapped her arms around him, splaying both hands on his back as if to take in as much of him as she could. He heard her sharp intake of breath as their kiss deepened, restraint vanishing. He drew her fully against him, a moan of pleasure and need escaping as he fought for air, his senses running wild, soaking up everything, the chirping of the birds, the soughing of the breeze, the hum of distant traffic, the scent of grass and flowers, all of it a detailed backdrop to the play of his tongue against hers, the light, hot kisses he trailed along her jaw.
“Ah, Mollie.” He kissed her once more on the mouth, fiercely, before he pulled back, straightened. “A good thing for curious neighbors, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose.” She caught her breath, reeling. “I don’t think either of us can make a case for neutrality right now.”
“I expect not.”
“You’ll wait for me to lock the gates?”
He nodded. He wouldn’t be spending the night with her. Under the circumstances, a spine-melting kiss was as much as he could expect for tonight. “Night, Mollie.”
She smiled, the stiffness of anger and self-doubt gone, a genuine openness in their place. He liked her unguarded, relaxed, not trying to pretend she wasn’t still attracted to him. “Good night, Jeremiah.” The smile faded, just for an instant, and she said quietly, “And I have forgiven you. And myself.”
She was through the gates, and as they shut, Jeremiah wondered if a little part of her wasn’t telling herself that next time, she should hope for the pack of wild dogs instead of a man who’d already broken her heart once.
10
Mollie had spread over her kitchen table everything that had ever been said about Chet Farnsworth from his first interview on joining NASA to a review in the Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel of his Sunday performance. She felt sane, professional, able to concentrate on her work. Last night’s lunacy was behind her.
But when her phone rang, she jumped and stared at it, heart racing, as if it were possessed by evil spirits. Yesterday’s threatening call still reverberated. Her job, however, required her to be on the phone. She couldn’t let one cretin deter her.
She took a breath, picked it up, and said her name.
“Can’t you screen your calls?” Jeremiah asked without preamble.
“Not if I expect to stay in business.” She thought she sounded remarkably steady given the rush of stress chemicals pouring through her bloodstream. “What’s up?”
“I’m calling to check in.”
“Where are you?”
He didn’t answer at once. “Worth Avenue. I’m parked in front of a fancy children’s clothing store. There’s a mannequin in the window of a girl in a frilly dress. She looks like Little Bo Peep.”
Mollie smiled. “I know the shop.” Worth Avenue was Palm Beach’s answer to Rodeo Drive. “Is your friend Croc with you?”
“Croc isn’t my friend, and I don’t know where he is. I never know, which is one of the hazards of my association with him. After last night, I’m afraid he’s become a loose cannon. But it wouldn’t be easy reining him in.”
“That must be unnerving for you.” Not to mention for her.
“Aggravating is more like it. Tell me about your day, Mollie. What do you have going?”
“I need to run an errand this morning-on Worth Avenue, as a matter of fact.”
“We could meet for coffee.”
She settled back in her chair at the kitchen table, calmer. “Don’t you have a real story you should be working on?”
“I’ve got a few leads I could chase down, but right now I’m still officially between stories. I can focus on you.” His voice was low, the twangy drawl not too obvious. “Don’t you feel lucky?”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Since you waltzed back into my life, I’ve been attacked, threatened, suspected of being a thief, and driven to letting you and your mysterious friend Croc sneak around while I ate dinner.”
“You’ve also been kissed quite thoroughly.”
“Jeremiah, you are incorrigible.”
“So people keep telling me, although not because I find myself kissing just anyone in a parking garage.” He paused. “We should have gone upstairs last night.”
She inhaled sharply, a hot jolt of awareness coursing through her. “You’re in an awfully cheeky mood this morning.”
“Comes from lack of sleep. What’re you doing after Worth Avenue?”
He would not be distracted from the point of his call, which was to keep tabs on her. “I have a luncheon at the Paulette Mansion. A security expert is speaking to one of the local women’s societies-”
“George Marcotte. How fortuitous. I’ll be there myself.”
“You will?” She frowned. “Why?”
“Gut instinct. Plus I’ve lined up a quick interview with Marcotte. I want to hear his take on our cat burglar.”
“You just made that up.”
He laughed. “For a publicist, you have a suspicious mind.”
“That’s because I know you.”
“You’re getting there.” The sexy undertone was unmistakable. “Reconsider coffee.”
He started to hang up, but Mollie said, “I talked to Leonardo this morning. I asked him if he had any enemies who might be targeting me to get to him. You know, that’s what this could be about. Someone setting me up for the robberies or just capitalizing on them as a way of getting at Leonardo.”
“What did he say?” Jeremiah asked, serious now. She could almost feel his mind opening, taking in a new scenario.
“He has enemies-the usual jealousies and lost loves and whatnot-but he can’t think of anyone who would take their animosity toward him out on me, and certainly not in such a byzantine approach.”
“Did he say byzantine?”
“Yes, why not?”
“I don’t think my father and I have ever used byzantine with each other, even when I studied Constantinople in the sixth grade. Okay. Never mind. Go on.”
She sighed. “His enemies, he said, were more likely to take a direct approach or just sue him.” She suddenly felt self-conscious, especially when Jeremiah went quiet on her. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. Consider every angle, right?”