"Cocky and charming—a dangerous combination."
"Not as dangerous as sweet and sexy," he said, covering her mouth with his.
Jeremy led her to bed and took her to pleasurable heights she'd only dreamed about. When Mia fell asleep in his arms, she thought life was pretty much perfect. She just hoped the sun wouldn't bring that perfection to an end.
Fifteen
Mia woke up in Jeremy's bed alone, but the delicious ache in her body reminded her of the night they'd shared.
Rolling on to her side, she saw it was after eight. She didn't usually sleep this late.
Scrambling out of bed, she hopped in the shower, dressed and then headed downstairs.
Jeremy and Ashlyn were at the kitchen table. Ashlyn was eating cereal and watching the small television on the wall, and Jeremy was reading the paper and eating oatmeal. It was a cozy family scene, and she both wanted to be a part of it and wanted to run far away, because she really couldn't let herself start thinking that she belonged at that table, in this family.
Jeremy lifted his gaze and saw her hovering in the doorway. His intimate smile made her shiver, and for a long silent minute, they both relived the pleasure they'd found in each other's arms.
"What can I make you for breakfast?" Jeremy asked.
"Nothing. I'm going to go home. I'll get something there."
Disappointment filled his eyes. "Are you sure? You don't have to leave so soon."
"I need to really focus on the cleanup today."
"We can help you later. Ashlyn has an appointment with Dr. Westcott this morning, so we're tied up for a while."
"I want to go to Mia's house," Ashlyn protested.
Mia could see a storm brewing in Ashlyn's eyes. She had a feeling that yesterday's breakthrough might be both a good and a bad thing for Jeremy because now that Ashlyn was talking, she might have a lot to say that Jeremy didn't want to hear.
"You can come by later," Mia told her. "I need to take care of some stuff this morning. But we'll get together this afternoon, okay?"
Ashlyn didn't look happy, but she nodded and went back to her cereal and her television program.
"Thanks," Jeremy said, getting up to walk her out. "I think you just averted a tantrum."
"Ashlyn is going to test you," she warned. "She's trying to figure out where the boundaries are and what might push you away from her."
"Nothing will push me away, and, frankly, anything is better than the silence."
"I might have to remind you that you said that."
He smiled and took her hand in his. "I'm glad you stayed, Mia."
"Me, too." She felt an overwhelming wave of affection for him. He looked so ridiculously attractive even before a shower, his hair still mussed from her fingers, his cheeks with morning beard, his lips so perfect for kissing.
"You should not be looking at me like that," he warned her. "Not if you actually want to go home alone."
"The last thing I want to do is go home alone, but I can't keep getting into bed with you."
"Why not? It's working out pretty well so far."
"You know why not. We're both leaving…"
"Sometime. Not today or tomorrow. Let's not look any further ahead."
"Okay."
"Call me if you have any problems at the house, and Ashlyn and I will come over later to help you."
"Sounds good. And I'm sure I'll be fine."
He pulled her up against his chest. "One for the road."
His kiss was so long and so good she really wanted to take him with her, but somehow she managed to get herself out of the house and back home.
* * *
Her cell phone rang as she walked into the kitchen. It was her mom. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she said, "Hi, Mom. How are you feeling? How's the foot?"
"Much better, thanks. How are you doing?"
"Well, I'm making a little progress, but it's not fast. Aunt Carly had a lot of stuff."
Her mom laughed. "I know. I was actually a little relieved when you volunteered to go instead of me. I loved my sister, but she could be quite the pack rat. She hated to throw anything away. It all had sentiment attached to it."
"That's what makes it difficult. I feel guilty when I throw anything into a trash bag. I've started putting things together to donate to charity, which makes me feel better, but anything that's stained or torn or broken or chipped, I feel like I should toss."
"Of course you should. I know that you'll do everything with respect to your aunt, so don't make yourself crazy, Mia. And I should be able to get down there in a few weeks. I can finish up whatever you don't get to."
She sensed her mother was working the conversation toward a new point—a point that had to do with her future. She wasn't wrong.
"I know you're going to need to start looking for another job soon," her mom said. "I don't want you to feel like you have to stay in Angel's Bay for me or for Carly."
"I can send resumes out from here," she said, even though she had done absolutely nothing in that regard.
"That's true. Everything is online now. Are you applying to other museums?"
"I'm thinking about all my options. I didn't love the museum work the way I thought I would."
"Well, no job is ever going to be fun one hundred percent of the time."
"I know, but it should be fun more than ten percent of the time, shouldn't it?"
Her mother's sigh was quite distinct. "I just feel like your generation sets its expectations too high. Work is work."
"But you love being a nurse. And Dad loved being a firefighter."
"You're right. We both did choose careers that we loved. I thought you loved art. I just don't want to see you set back in your career because of a man."
"It's not about Grayson."
"Isn't it? You've been very close-mouthed about that relationship, but I know that he lied to you about being divorced and that you were the one who ended up leaving the museum when his wife found out, which I think is totally unfair. They should have fired him."
"It doesn't matter anymore. I made a mistake. I trusted the wrong person. But I can't change what happened. What I need to do now is figure out where I want to work that will pay me a living and make me happy. I have time to look. I have money in the bank. I'm a good saver, you know that."
Her mom laughed. "That's true. You've never been one to overspend."
"And it's not costing me anything to be here, so it's all good. I really like Angel's Bay, Mom. I can see why Aunt Carly wanted to live here. The people are wonderful. Kara Murray Lynch threw me a party so I could meet all of Aunt Carly's friends. They said the most wonderful things about her. When you come down, you'll have to meet them, too."
"I'd love to."
"By the way, did Aunt Carly talk to you about publishing a coloring book for adults?"
"She did mention that, but I thought it sounded a little crazy."
"It's all the rage. It's fun, easy, and you can drink a lot of wine while you're doing it," she added with a laugh. "The pictures she drew are really well done. I'm going to see if I can publish the books in her name."
"That sounds like another project that will take you away from your own life," her mother said gently. "What's really going on, Mia?"
She sighed, knowing her mother deserved more of the truth. "I feel like I spent a lot of years in school to end up doing something I didn't like that much. Since I came here, my world has opened up again. There's so much I can do with art. Maybe being in a museum is the wrong place for me."
"What are your other options?"
"I could work in a gallery or teach art. Maybe I could paint."
"You're going to be a painter now?"
She heard the doubt in her mother's voice. "I'm not that bad."
"I'm sure you're not, honey. I just don't know that it's practical."
"Well, I've been practical my entire life, so it's time for a little impractical. I just feel so inspired since I got here, like I have options I
haven't ever considered. I can't really explain it. Maybe it's Carly's spirit guiding me in some way."
"Are you sure this inspiration doesn't have something to do with the attractive man next door?"
"You talked to Kate."
"She mentioned something about your neighbor. What's he like? Is he single?"
"He's a single dad, and he's very attractive. He's a soldier, although I'm not sure what he's going to do next. He was injured a few months ago, and he's still recovering."
"That's terrible."
"He's going to be all right. He can live a normal life; he's just not sure he can pass the extreme physical tests for his unit. Plus, his daughter needs a father. Her mother recently passed away."
"That sounds very sad and complicated. Are you sure you want to get in the middle of that?"
It was a good question. Unfortunately, it had come a little late. "I'm already involved, but Jeremy isn't the reason I'm reevaluating my career plans."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes. He's a great guy and I like him, but we aren't making serious plans. We both have things to figure out. It's fine. You're going to have to trust me to run my own life."
"I know. You're not the first of my six children to tell me that, but you are my baby, and I've always felt a little more protective of you. You gave us such a scare when you were little. I've always worried more about you."
"I'm the picture of good health now, and I'm actually having a great time here, so don't worry, okay?"
"All right. I'll let you go. Love you, Mia, take care of yourself."
"I will. Love you, too."
She ended the call and set down her phone. She didn't usually keep things from her family, and she felt a little guilty about not telling her mother about the vandalism in the studio, but there was nothing her mother could do about it. Plus, she would have wanted Mia to come home, and she wasn't ready to leave.
She could handle things here. Whoever had broken in had had plenty of time to take what they wanted. There was no reason to think they'd come back.
She needed to move on with her plans, clean up the house, set up the paintings for the exhibit, and even though she'd lost some pieces, she still had others she could use, including the ones upstairs.
As she thought about her aunt's paintings, she decided to take a closer look. She got up from the table and went upstairs. She pulled the paintings out of the closet one by one and stood them up around the bed so she could see what she was looking at. As she reached for the last painting, the ragged edge of the frame cut her finger. She winced and sucked the blood off her finger as she glanced down at the frame.
It was pulling apart at the corner. When she tried to pull the two edges into place, she just made things worse, and the corner of the painting came loose from the frame.
Carrying it over to the bed, she set it down so she could take a better look at it. This particular painting didn't really look like the others. It wasn't a scene or a portrait. It was just a mass of brushstrokes in bold colors. It didn't look like something her aunt would have painted.
As she tried to tuck the edge of the canvas under the frame, her eye caught on the frayed edges of something underneath.
Frowning, she pulled the corner of the canvas up, stunned to see what appeared to be another painting underneath.
Her pulse began to race and after a few seconds of trying to gently remove the broken frame, she just gave it a ruthless pull until it came away from the canvas. Then it was easy to pull up the top picture to reveal the hidden painting.
Her breath caught in her chest. This painting was not the work of an amateur. The exquisite brushstrokes, the attention to detail and light, the subject matter—Moulin Rouge and Paris nightlife in the nineteenth century—reminded her of the French painter Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. He was one of the most talented painters in the Post-Impressionism period.
Her pulse jumped and blood raced through her veins as she studied the painting, turning it one way, then the other, knowing without a doubt that she was holding art in her hands that was very old and probably very valuable. She'd studied the works of the masters for years. If this painting wasn't by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, then it had to have been done by someone who had studied under him.
Or—it could be a forgery, a copy. She didn't remember this particular scene. She knew it was different than the painting entitled At the Moulin Rouge by Toulouse-Lautrec, but there were quite a few similarities.
She sat down on the bed, her legs feeling suddenly weak. She'd been hoping to find a treasure in her aunt's house, but what if the treasure had been stolen? If the painting had not been hidden away, her mind wouldn't go to that possibility. She would have thought that her aunt bought it somewhere or that it was a copy, not worth anything more than the pleasure it gave from studying it.
But someone had carefully put another really terrible piece of art in front of it. If the frame hadn't broken, she never would have discovered it.
And the painting had been hidden away in her aunt's closet, where she kept her personal paintings, which led her to believe that it hadn't been left behind by one of the visiting artists, although she couldn't be sure.
In truth, she didn't really know what her aunt had painted and what she'd gotten from others.
Her stomach began to churn. She felt a little sick. Her aunt couldn't have been an art thief, could she?
Her gaze drifted to the other paintings she'd pulled from the closet. What if there were other masterpieces hidden by what appeared to be amateur art?
Another thought occurred to her…
Had the paintings she'd found slashed in the yard been ripped apart to see if they held this treasure?
Her heart was beating so fast, she felt dizzy. She needed to talk to Jeremy. She needed him to calmly tell her that her imagination was running away from her. But he wasn't home. He had things to do this morning. Still, she had to reach out.
Picking up her phone, she punched in his number. It went to voicemail. "Call me or come by when you get back," she said. "I've found something in my aunt's house that's a little…odd."
* * *
Jeremy dropped Ashlyn off for her therapy appointment and then drove down to the harbor to meet Barton at the Java Hut. He knew Barton wanted to talk to him more about working for Kinsey Private Security, but it didn't really hold any interest for him at the moment. Everything about his previous life seemed suddenly very far away.
When he'd woken up in the hospital two months ago, all he could think about was how soon he could get back to his team, but now there were other things and people in his life that mattered more—Ashlyn and Mia.
Mia kept telling him they were just having a summer fling. She wanted to define it so she'd be okay when it ended, and he understood her self-protective instincts. It was easier for him to think of their relationship that way, too. But the idea of summer turning into fall without her living next door was not something he wanted to contemplate. However, he'd told her not to think too far ahead; he needed to take his own advice.
He arrived at the Java Hut before Barton, which wasn't surprising. After getting a coffee from the barista at the counter, he sat down at a table by the window. From his vantage point, he could see the boats bobbing in the harbor and the sign for Buddy's Bait and Tackle. His father was probably out on his boat this morning.
He'd hated fishing, every single thing about it: the waiting, the gutting of the fish, and the stink that never left your clothes. He didn't know what his father loved about it, but then his father had always been better with fish than with people.
The door opened and he saw Barton walk in with Hal Conroy, one of his father's fishing buddies and longtime friends.
Barton tipped his head and went up to the counter to order while Hal walked over to the table.
"Hello, Jeremy," he said. "Mind if I sit for a minute?"
"Go ahead," he said, bracing himself for what he was sure would be a conversation about his dad.<
br />
"How are you enjoying being back in Angel's Bay?"
"It's better than I expected."
Hal nodded approvingly. "Cameron said you have a daughter, that cute little girl you were with at the café."
"Yes. Ashlyn is eight years old."
Hal stared back at him and drew in a breath, then let it out.
"Say whatever you want to say," Jeremy told him. "I can see you have something on your mind."
"I know you and your dad haven't gotten along in the past, but don't you think it's time to mend fences? Now that you're a father, don't you have a better sense of how difficult it is to be a parent, especially a single parent?"
"It is difficult to be a single father, but I try. My father gave up after my mother died. His relationship with her was over, so our relationship was over. I was eleven years old. My friends' parents were the ones who showed up for me at baseball games and school events. They looked out for me. They helped me with my homework. My father was drunk or asleep or gone."
"I know it was bad," Hal acknowledged. "Your father was so guilty about your mom's death that he could barely breathe."
"Guilty?" he asked, surprised by the choice of word. "She got cancer. He didn't cause that."
"No, but he was gone the first two months she was sick, remember?"
"Vaguely. He was always coming and going."
"He'd joined a crew in Alaska to earn some extra money. She didn't tell him she was sick right away, because she didn't want him to come home. By the time he got back, she had only a couple weeks left to live. I don't think he ever forgave himself for not having more time with her, for not being there with her when she first heard the news."
Jeremy didn't know what to say. If someone had told him this before, he had no recollection of it, but then the time around his mother's death had passed in a hazy blur.
"Your dad drank to ease the pain," Hal continued. "He wasn't the father you needed. He knows that down deep. He just doesn't know how to get past it. He thinks you hate him."
"I can't say he's wrong."
"Can't you?"
"No, I can't. I went to see him when I first got back. When I told him I had a kid I'd just found out about, he ranted about how irresponsible I was. He didn't ask about her at all. He didn't ask how I felt about things. He just shouted. Does that sound like a man who's worried about whether or not I like him?"
If I Didn't Know Better Page 18
