by Tricia Jones
She laughed, buttered a bagel and handed it to him. “How does your hip feel this morning?”
Apart from a couple of twinges late last night, he hadn’t given it much thought. “Okay. That massage you gave me seemed to do the trick.” He bit into the bagel and nearly moaned when he realized she’d put them in the microwave to warm.
“That’s good. When’s your next therapy session?”
How the hell was he supposed to think about therapy sessions when he had a warm bagel in one hand and a hot woman in the other? “End of the week.”
She nodded, thoughtfully.
“What is it?”
Mia shook her head as she cradled the coffee mug. “It’s nothing, not really.”
He tapped the area between her eyebrows. “You’ve got little lines forming. That always means trouble.”
“It’s just something else that’s been niggling at me. Probably only coincidence, but I can’t seem to let it go.”
Saul put down the bagel and slid the tray toward the end of the bed. Then he turned Mia to face him. “Hit me with it.”
She took a breath and let it out on a long sigh. “Well, the ring. It’s from the same collection my mother loved. So was the pendant I bought at the auction, the one that was stolen in the mugging. I can’t get rid of this feeling that they’re connected somehow. It’s too coincidental, don’t you think? I mean, how would this admirer know I collected that style? I don’t advertise the fact, and Dad would never mention it because he hates the very fact I do collect it. Does that make sense?”
Saul’s antenna, always on alert where this particular situation was concerned, perked up. “Your dad doesn’t like you collecting the jewelry?”
She shook her head. “Aunt Sylvia thinks it’s because it reminds him too much of my mother. That it’s just too painful for him. There’s no way he would have told people. He calls it my obsession.”
Saul thought about Armstrong and Colcannon. About the fact Colcannon was the last registered owner of the ring and other items from the Calypso line. Oh yeah. There was nothing coincidental about this whole deal.
As he mused over the facts, Mia shuffled closer. “Do you think there’s something not right about all this, or do you think I’m imagining it?”
“Hard to say.” Saul shook his head as if to clear it. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t want to worry her any further either. He couldn’t quite get the thought of how she’d looked when he’d told her she was being followed out of his mind. But there were things he needed to know if he was to help get to the bottom of all this. “As far as you know, does your father have any connection with Roger Colcannon?”
She looked at him, pursed her lips as she considered his question. “Not that I know of. They might have met somewhere along the line at some function or another, but I can’t remember Dad ever mentioning it. I’m sure he would have in the light of Colcannon’s run for party leader.”
“Yeah. That was my thinking.”
“Why do you ask?”
Again, he considered the wisdom of making her worry unduly when he didn’t yet have all the facts. He gave a non-committal shrug. “Still working on the ownership connection. Trying to establish where the links might be, and working off the top of my head.”
“So if Dad knows Colcannon, you think that might explain why I received a ring registered to the man?”
“Like I said, working off the top of my head. Trying to make connections.”
She seemed to accept that. He felt like a heel, but he wasn’t a man who sought trouble when he could avoid it. Telling Mia would serve no other purpose at this point. She thought there was no connection between the two men, but he knew otherwise.
Plus, she loved her father and Saul wasn’t about to put suspicions about him into Mia’s head without a damn good reason.
“You still think there’s something I should worry about.”
Shit. She had a damn uncanny way of reading his thoughts. “I’ve got Dan looking into the paperwork for the ring, trying to find out if Colcannon sold the ring to anyone. It could be one of his aids who knew your father, and therefore knew you. Hence the link.”
“Hmm. That’s possible, I suppose.” She tilted her head. “So if you still have Dan investigating, you still think something’s not right.”
“Couple of loose ends, that’s all.” He drew the tray back toward them.
“You think the ring and the stolen pendant are just coincidental?”
“Sometimes coincidences really do happen and they’re just that.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t believe that.”
“There are far greater things in heaven and earth, Horatio, as the saying goes.”
“I suppose there’s no use worrying about it all. The police are involved, your colleague is checking out the paperwork. Nothing else I can do anyway.”
Her sense of resignation tightened his chest. He wished he could take all this away and let it be over for her.
“I want more coffee,” she declared suddenly and picked up their cups. She was about to scramble off the bed when he pulled her back.
“You got breakfast. Let me.”
She shifted back against the headboard. “I see our conversation hasn’t done much to relieve you of your predicament.”
At the door he turned to look over his shoulder. The wicked gleam lit her eyes as she tilted her head downward and grinned at him. It felt good to see those little worry lines disappear. “You obviously need to do better if you want to distract me, Professor.”
“I’ll give it some thought while you’re getting our coffee.”
“Yeah, well don’t think too much. I’ve got my own ideas of how to relieve myself of my predicament.”
He winked, pleased when she laughed and snuggled under the duvet.
In the kitchen, he put on fresh coffee then walked across to the window. The sun had broken through and it promised to be a good day, the sort of day to walk hand-in-hand with Mia along the river. A late lunch, then maybe a trip on the London Eye or a movie. Even better was whisking her back to the apartment afterward and spending the evening together.
While the coffee percolated, he thought about trying to talk her into spending another night with him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. This thing with her was starting to become a whole different ballgame. It had implications. Unspoken assumptions. Neither of them wanted that.
He walked into the living room, picked up his cell from the side table, and checked for calls from Dan. He half-expected something, seeing as Dan was another workaholic and rarely out of the office unless on assignment. Since there were no messages, Saul went back into the kitchen and poured them both fresh coffee.
Mia shifted up against the headboard again when he entered the bedroom.
“Sun’s out. How about showing me around London today?
“What did you have in mind?”
“Let’s play it by ear. We could maybe take in an early show.”
“Hmm. My clothes aren’t really appropriate.”
“Then we’ll stay here.” He eyed her thighs where the shirt ended. “You’re dressed appropriately enough for that. If anything, I’d say you’re overdressed.”
She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. “You have a one track mind.”
“You seem to be keeping up.” He handed her the coffee then slipped into bed beside her. “I thought we could take a walk along the river. Weather’s great.”
“That’d be nice. But I still think I’d better pop home and change.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. He had a feeling that if she got home, her father would give him the evil eye again and it would spoil the mood of the day.
“You’re fine as you are.”
“I can’t exactly go dressed in your shirt, can I?”
He leaned across and kissed her. “Don’t see why not. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”
“Please. I have bed hair
, remnants of yesterday’s makeup, and I’m wearing your shirt, which is crumpled to the heavens.”
“Still beautiful to me.” A wicked thought came into his head and he hopped off the bed. “Wait here and I’ll prove it to you.”
In the living room he retrieved his camera from the coat stand and slipped it onto close-up mode.
Realizing what he’d brought in, Mia screeched and shoved her cup onto the nightstand before disappearing under the duvet. “You are not taking a photo,” came the muffled sound from beneath the cover. “I’m not joking, Saul. Put down that camera.”
“Come on. Be a sport. This is one for my private collection.”
“No.”
Since her protests weren’t exactly adamant, he played along, “Okay. The camera’s gone,” he lied, tucking it behind his back. “You can come out now.”
Minutes later, her eyes appeared over the top of the duvet and she narrowed them at him. “I know it’s behind you.”
Obediently, he did as she asked and placed it on the nightstand. He could bide his time.
Slowly, she emerged and sat back against the headboard. He joined her, but distracted her with a long, lingering kiss. When he released her, he made a grab for the camera. Before she could duck beneath the duvet again he snapped her. She squealed and tucked her knees hard into her chest and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Saul O’Donnell.” He lined up another shot. She groped for the camera. “I’m warning you.”
Hearing the laughter behind her admonishment, he held the camera away from her flailing hands. “Come on. I’ll let you take one of me.”
She came up on her knees, still grabbing for the camera. “Why would I want a photo of a naked man?”
“I could be your screensaver.” He held the camera up while she continued to bat at him. “That way you can remember our hot weekend between tutorials and lectures.”
“Oh, that would be just great. What if someone else sees it?” When he grinned, she rolled her eyes and sat back on her haunches. “You actually wouldn’t care, would you?”
“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.”
“Well, I would. Please Saul, I’m not joking.”
Because the laughter had disappeared from her tone, he lowered the camera. “Okay. If you feel that strongly, I’ll delete it.”
“Thanks.”
“On one condition.”
He laughed when she fell back against the mattress, groaned, then pulled a pillow over her head. “Allow me to guess. Would it by any chance involve me on my back and naked?”
He pulled the pillow away and touched his mouth to hers. “How well you know me. And while it doesn’t necessarily require you to be on your back, naked would be a prerequisite.”
“Of course it would.” Her sigh was heavily theatrical. “Okay, it’s a deal. Delete the photo.”
****
Mia was sure she’d put on several pounds during the weekend, and that by the time she had to squeeze back into her work skirt tomorrow morning she’d have to let out the waistband.
Not only had they enjoyed a delicious lunch but Saul had insisted she share an enormous slice of coffee cake when they later stopped for refreshments at a tea room by the riverbank. When Saul invited her to come back to the apartment, her hesitation had been so brief she amazed herself. She really didn’t want the weekend to end. When her father had text her, she’d replied that she’d be home late and not to worry.
Saul had received a couple of phone calls which he answered briefly, saying they were work related and he’d deal with them the next morning.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a man’s company this much. Saul was attentive, courteous and fun. Then there was his old-fashioned charm. Holding her hand tightly as they’d stepped onto a pleasure cruise boat for a short trip along the Thames, to ensure that she didn’t lose her footing as the boat shook a little. Holding doors open for her and helping her with her coat.
Not that he didn’t have his wicked side. Whispering naughty suggestions into her ear when they were barely out of earshot of people seemed to be his favorite, for which he’d earned more than a few nudges in the ribcage as she’d admonished him.
She really liked being with him. A fact she tried not to question too hard as she wandered around the apartment while Saul went down to call on his landlady following a message from her pinned to his door.
There was no real need to question things too deeply anyway, seeing as this wasn’t going anywhere other than being a lovely interlude. But at some stage she would have to think about the way he made her feel. Mia had let down a guard she hadn’t even been aware of having. Until Saul had told her that she kept pushing him away, she hadn’t realized she did that. Which wasn’t entirely true, but she hadn’t realized it was so obvious to anyone else.
Maybe it was time to address that part of herself. She’d already started with Saul and surprised herself how easy it was to become more intimate with him, not just in bed but also out of it. She’d told him about losing her mother, about her relationship with her father, about her job. Not just obvious stuff, but things that she’d never told another person. She talked about her feelings, which was weird, seeing as most men ran a mile when a woman started on about feelings.
Saul was different. He had a way of wheedling things out of her. Yet it wasn’t always easy to get him to open up in return. He talked about his parents, his sister, his job, but he never wanted to talk too hard about what happened to him in the Middle East. She supposed it wasn’t easy for anyone to speak freely of such trauma and she’d only gotten a hint of the sights he must have seen and the sheer brutality he’d had to witness. It couldn’t be easy for anyone to open up about that, to remember things like that.
But she wanted to share that with him. Wanted to be a sounding board for him as he had for her. Not that you could force such things, she’d had enough experience in her work life to know that. People couldn’t be forced.
She went into the kitchen to put on coffee, smiling to herself as she recalled her earlier reprimand of Saul’s addiction to caffeine. But seeing she’d largely eaten for England the last couple of days, she couldn’t in all fairness give him too much grief about his penchant for coffee.
While the machine gurgled away, she went toward the bathroom to freshen up detouring into the bedroom to collect her makeup bag. She took a moment to smooth down the sheets and fluff the duvet, although it seemed pointless since they likely would frequent that very space again.
She grabbed her makeup bag from the nightstand, and noticed Saul’s camera lying on the cabinet where he’d placed it after deleting her photo.
She narrowed her eyes. When she’d told him to delete the photo, he’d had that look in his eye. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but it never hurt to check these things. Biting her lip, and feeling a little guilty, she went around to get the camera.
Of course he’d deleted it, she assured herself as she perused the snazzy camera with all its switches and levers. It wasn’t a good idea to play around with his property, seeing it was his work equipment and she didn’t know one switch from another, but her fingers just wouldn’t stop searching for the on switch.
Maybe it’s the one with on written beside it, she thought wryly as she pressed the marked button. The screen flashed bright showing the headboard and pillows she aimed at. All she had to do now was find the photo folder. There was an arrow switch to the side and she pressed it lightly, hardly daring to breathe in case it was the wrong one and all manner of things started happening.
Again, she thought to just switch it off and put it down. She had no business touching his things. But a photo flashed up on the screen and she knew she was on the right track. She pressed the arrow again and the screen scrolled along. Fairly innocuous photos of buildings, groups of people, but the shot he’d taken of her was nowhere to be seen.
She smiled, annoyed with herself for even suspecting him of lying, then she caught her
breath as an image flashed up on screen.
Two men stood on the steps of the club where she had joined Saul on that stakeout.
Two men. Roger Colcannon...and her father.
Chapter Fourteen
Mia wasn’t sure how long she stared at the photo, but if she stared long enough the man in the photo might stop bearing a striking resemblance to her father. Why on earth was he meeting with Roger Colcannon? He’d never even mentioned the man before and there’d been enough publicity about the politician in the last few months to give every opportunity to indicate he knew the man personally.
Their meeting couldn’t be construed as a chance one either. They appeared deep in conversation and it was evident they knew each other.
As her mind whirled over the possible connection, the door to the apartment opened and then closed. Mia shut the camera down and replaced it on the cabinet where she’d found it. Inhaling a deep breath, she considered her next step. Should she confront her father? Saul? Or simply not mention she’d seen the photo? She might find out more by not mentioning it, then she could draw the conversation around and hopefully discover the connection. Saul obviously knew, or why else would he have taken the photo?
Her chest tightened. He’d had the gall to question her about it. To ask if she knew of any connection. Yet all the time he’d known there was one.
Anger and hurt accompanied her as she went into the living room. Saul was looking thoughtfully down at an envelope, which Mia assumed had been the subject of his landlady’s request to see him. When he looked up and saw her, he smiled and slid the envelope into his jacket pocket.
Mia didn’t return his smile, her irritation amplified at the speed with which he’d disposed of the envelope so she wouldn’t see it.
“Something wrong?” He came toward her.
Suddenly she wasn’t in the mood to play games, to engage in a game of cat and mouse. “Funny. That was going to be my question.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Well, now it’s mine.”
She pulled away as he reached for her. “Why would you have a photo of my father with Roger Colcannon?”
