Page 13 of Edge of Whispers

It was an experiment doomed to fail, however, because the guy was just too big. And he exuded that aura of controlled power that made me feel vulnerable, even fully clothed and a full table-length away. I could only imagine how that vibe would feel if we were naked. Skin to skin. And oh, shit?—

I screeched to a stop at the red light, just in time. Face flushed, heart pounding.

I, Nancy D’Onofrio, hyper-efficient multitasker, couldn’t even think about that man while driving.

Chapter Three

Liam

I hung onto the sight of Nancy D’Onofrio until her car turned the corner, suppressing the mad urge to sprint to the end of the block to catch another glimpse.

I didn’t do it. I had that much self-control, at least. Which wasn’t saying a hell of a lot.

I ran down the steps through the rain and got into the truck. Eoin, a distant cousin of mine fresh from County Wicklow, gave me a questioning glance as I wiped rain off my face.

“So?” Eoin asked. “What are we doing?”

“We’re getting on with it.”

Eoin’s blue eyes widened. “Really? The daughters want to go ahead?”

I nodded, squeezing my hand around the sense memory of Nancy D’Onofrio’s cool, slender fingers. Eoin caught the vibe, sensitive, curious little bastard that he was, and shot me a keen sidelong glance. “Daughter’s a looker, eh?”

“She just put her mother in the ground yesterday,” I snarled.

Eoin mumbled something apologetic that made me feel like a hypocritical piece of shit. Like I had any right to scold the kid. What the fuck was I thinking, coming on to a woman who’d just buried her mother? She was still in her funeral dress, red-eyed from crying. She probably took me for one of those slimy opportunists who preyed on grieving women. God. My tongue had probably dangled out like a slavering hound.

Lucia D’Onofrio had been a smart old lady—funny, elegant, with a sharp sense of humor. She’d reminded me of my own mom, which had made her feel precious to me. I’d only known Lucia a few weeks, but news of her death made me feel as if something had been taken from me personally.

A burglar? Jesus. It was so stupid. So fucking offensive. It made me furious.

“Ah ... is there a plan here, Liam?” Eoin asked cautiously.

“Yes, waiting for the goddamn rain to ease off,” I retorted.

Eoin looked away without comment.

I sighed. “Shit. Sorry. It just winds me up. Mrs. D’Onofrio, getting attacked in a home invasion. She was a fine old lady, and it pisses me off. It’s not your fault.”

“I get it. Don’t give it a thought.” Eoin’s voice was long-suffering.

I felt Nancy D’Onofrio’s business card in my pocket and pulled it out. Her name was printed in bold, curvy letters that stood out sharply from the creamy paper. A name, a phone number, a QR code. Sleek, classy, minimalist. I was going to scan that code first chance I got and read everything there was to read about her.

I stuck the card in my pocket before Eoin noticed me fondling it.

I didn’t usually admire black clothing on women, but Nancy’s tailored black dress made her skin look pearly and her mahogany hair gleam. That tight bun showed off every finely molded detail of her face. Only a woman with amazing bone structure could pull off that severe style and still look good. The oppressed-but-secretly-sensual governess look. I wanted to play the horny, unscrupulous lord of the manor. Sign me up for that.

I could have looked at her face for hours, always finding something new to admire. Her high cheekbone were striking, her skin impossibly soft. Her wide-set eyes were beautiful. She seemed elegant, smart, a person to be reckoned with. Sinuous. Tough-minded. Practical. And also like the perfectly formed but dangerous girl who undulates through the opening credits of a Bond movie. A fantasy woman.

And paying a crew out of my own pocket for an undetermined interval? That was a fucking fantasy, too. That was the little head talking.

But damn. I couldn’t let a chance to see her again slip away. She was elusive, wary. Going after a girl like her would be like catching fish with my bare hands.

Christ, sometimes I scared myself. I flung the car door open. “Let’s get started.”

Eoin peered at the rain sliding down the windshield, started to say something, then thought better of it. He sighed and followed me out.

I ground through the whole internal mental lecture while we unloaded. Pursuing a woman like Nancy D’Onofrio would be a huge waste of time. I shouldn’t even start. She was a hyper-focused, a workaholic. Lucia had told me how driven she was, and I’d regretfully written her off as soon as Lucia described her. She was the polar opposite of what I wanted in my life.

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