Page 17 of Edge of Whispers

Chapter Five

Nancy

I took a bracing gulp of coffee, finished typing the latest edits into Peter’s CD liner notes in my laptop, and closed the program. Moxie flung herself at my feet and writhed.

I picked up Moxie and buried my face in her long fur. She’d been feeling neglected. And now she had to spend yet another day alone while I went to clear the stuff out of Lucia’s kitchen.

I had not gathered up the strength to go back there and clean up the mess in the kitchen, not after my spine-tingling encounter with Liam Knightly, so I had my work cut out for me today.

I hadn’t asked my sisters to help, either. Not that they could’ve, despite all their brave words. Nell was working, as always, teaching classes all morning and waitressing all afternoon, and Vivi was working a craft show upstate. I had a million things of my own I had to cancel.

But the rock-bottom truth was, I preferred to see Liam Knightly alone.

Nothing got past Vivi and Nell’s sharp eyes. I didn’t want my curious sisters intercepting any smoldering glances or catching stray waves of throbbing sexual heat. They’d draw their conclusions and start to tease. Or worse, start to worry.

First order of business: what to wear? The jeans and T-shirt I’d thrown on this morning after my shower were perfect for cleaning, mopping and packing kitchenware, but they were utterly inadequate for being seen by Liam Knightly.

Moxie sprawled, purring and stretching, on a growing heap of rejects on the futon couch as I yanked item after item out of my closet.

I finally settled on a pair of snug, faded jeans and a tailored, dark blue cotton blouse, primly buttoned up, with just the last button undone, so that the luscious sapphire pendant at my throat showed, ever so slightly. A glint of color, a flash of light. Crisp, businesslike, no-nonsense, but subtly feminine.

I fixed my hair twelve different ways. In a paroxysm of disgust, I fell back on my old emergency standby: slicked back with gel into a wet-looking braid. I spritzed on hairspray to underscore the no-nonsense message of the tough hair. Some cover-up under my eyes, a dash of brown mascara, and a dab of sandalwood oil to infuse the look with an air of sensual mystery. There. That should do it.

I stared into the mirror, wishing I could make the anxious crease between my brows disappear. What was I even trying to accomplish? A come-on, or a back-off?

Aw, hell with it. It was 8:20, and I was wasting the guy’s time with my crushed-out primping. I perched my glasses on my nose, stuck my chest out, and gave myself a hard smile in the mirror. Ta-da. I scooped Moxie into my arms and pressed my face into her soft fur. “Time to scram,” I told her apologetically. “Sorry, sweetie. I’ll make it up to you.”

My phone buzzed. I almost ignored it, late as I was, but ingrained professionalism prevailed. Or obsessive paranoia, depending on how you looked at it.

I saw the display. Liam Knightly. Moxie plopped to the ground with a yowl as my arm went limp. I hit “talk.” “Hello?”

“Nancy? This is Liam Knightly.”

“Ah. Um, hi,” I stammered. “Are you already at the house?”

“Yes, and I?—”

“Oh, no. We must have crossed wires about the meeting time. I’m so sorry. I’m running a little late because of some?—”

“Nancy.” He cut her off, his voice grim. “There’s a problem.”

“A problem?” A creeping sense of icy cold began to spread its tendrils out to my belly and limbs. “What do you mean, a problem?”

“There’s been another break-in.”

Another break-in? “No,” I said, my voice high. “That’s not possible.”

“I was driving by on my way to breakfast to see if your car was there yet. I wanted to pass a broom through the place before you saw it, since Eoin and I tracked in a lot of mud yesterday. I saw that the door was open, so I thought maybe you drove a different car up. Then I looked inside.”

His eloquent pause chilled my blood. I was starting to shake. “And?”

“It’s been trashed,” he said. “Badly. I’m so sorry to tell you this.”

I was crumpling—on my knees, hands braced against the floor like it was trying to rise up and smack me in the face. My phone lay next to Moxie’s bowl of kitty crunchies. Fish-shaped pellets were scattered on the little black-and-white tiles.

The floor was cold against my hands. Liam Knightly’s urgent voice came through the phone. I let my butt drop to the floor so that I could support myself on one hand and picked up the phone again.

“Here I am,” I gasped out. “Sorry. Dropped the phone.”

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