"Oh. Well. Oh." The last word came out on a sigh, and it didn't take a mother's intuition to see Landon was more than simply smitten with his attractive detective.
"You like her."
"Yeah, I do, Mom. I like her a lot."
"What's she like?"
"You mean aside from the fact she's gorgeous and sexy and could probably kick my ass from twenty paces?"
"That paints quite a picture, but why don't you keep on so my feminine heart can flutter wildly."
"She's smart and sort of fierce. But she's kind, too. And she sees things. More than I'm comfortable with, but she doesn't lord it over you, or it doesn't seem like she's got a leg up. She's-" He broke off and she saw it all over him, as plainly as if he'd said the words.
He was in love. Or well on his way.
"She sounds like a wonderful woman."
"She is."
The hesitation was there, along with a well of misery she'd erase if she could. "So why do I hear a 'but' in there?"
"I have to get comfortable with her digging into my past."
"Has she said she's going to do that?"
"The break-in has churned up a few ideas. She ran me before she even arrived at the office the other morning. It's not a secret I'm adopted. With the right access, I'm sure it's also not a secret I'm named in juvenile records that are sealed, too."
Panic welled in her breast, whip-quick and as sharp as a snakebite. "You didn't do anything."
"I did enough."
The argument was an old one, and it still stung more than she'd thought possible. "You did nothing. You're not responsible."
"It doesn't change the fact there's a record of my actions and a cop who's trying to find answers."
The panic slithered away but didn't vanish, huddled in a corner as she took calming breaths. He hadn't been responsible then, and there was no reason to churn that time up. "So drop the case and replace the servers yourself. You don't need the insurance money, which means you don't need a police report to file a claim."
"Doesn't change the fact that she knows."
Louisa debated her next words-which was more evidence of just how bad the rift between them had been-before she pushed back on the impulse. This was her son and she spoke her mind freely. "If you feel so strongly about her, doesn't she have a right to know?"
The demons he'd managed to knock back through years of hard work and the therapy she'd required of all her sons seemed to rise up and take seats at the table. "How do I tell her something like that?"
"In your own words. In your own time. There's no shame, Landon."
There never should have been any, but the truth was no match for the scars that never fully healed or the memories that never fully faded.
He glanced away for the briefest moment but it was all she needed. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
"What else is it?"
"In addition to my background, I think she's moved on to a fresh lead."
She saw his discomfort in the stiff lines of his body and heard the steady brush of his leg where it nervously went up and down against his chair. What she couldn't understand was what else could possibly have happened in his case. "Where did she get another lead?"
"Gretchen Reynolds."
If his past was a coiled snake waiting to strike, the subject of Gretchen Reynolds was a stampede, waiting to trample the grasses of her well-ordered life. She knew the woman was entitled to her anger and her grief, all angled in Louisa's direction. Gretchen was even entitled to share that opinion with others.
But to go after her son?
"What makes her think Gretchen is responsible?"
"It's just a lead, but when I brought it up, Daphne seemed to feel it was a big enough connection to follow through on it."
"She's contacting her?"
"Best I can tell, yes."
The news settled, turning the delicious breakfast over in her stomach. She'd nearly let Gretchen Reynolds's spite and hate keep her from running for borough president. Once her boys had encouraged her to see past it, she'd pushed forward with her candidacy. But that didn't mean the woman wouldn't make trouble.
Gretchen had been quiet for the past few weeks, but if a cop went poking her business, there was every chance she would come back with a vengeance.
Of course, if Daphne's instincts were right and there was a connection, the woman's hatred and vitriol ran far deeper than Louisa could have imagined.
And the wheels were already in motion.
With a resigned sign, she picked up her fork and took another bite of the delicious French toast.
Whatever Gretchen Reynolds wanted to throw at her, nothing compared to her relationship with her son. She'd give up a million borough presidencies for his happiness, and she knew they'd get through this.
After all, he had a beautiful, capable woman helping him out.
"Mom? You know what this means. It's one more thing that gives the spiteful bitch a reason to come out at you swinging. Only this time it's about me."
"Sadly, I don't think this is really about either of us any longer. It's about her and the anger and pain she can't escape."
"It doesn't mean she can't do a helluva lot of damage."
"Then we'll handle what comes."
The message played for the third time, the words still a blur in her mind even as the numbers on the message matched what she'd hastily scratched down.
Again, this is Detective Daphne Rossi. Please call me when you can, Mrs. Reynolds. I'm available any time.
She'd hired the investigator under the solemn expectation of absolute discretion and privacy. Hell, the word private investigator was on his card. Yet now she had the police calling her from Brooklyn.
Grubby people with their squalid little lives. Over the bridge, living and working day in and day out surrounded by the rest of the rats scurrying to make a living. She'd lived in New York her entire life. Had seen the changes-the swings, really-from the boom times to the busts and back again.
And she'd lived blessedly above it all.
That didn't mean she was ignorant to what went on. Or to the social climbers who wanted better lives than they had.
She'd handpicked Kincade. He was a good man-or so she'd believed. Malleable, amiable, and fundamentally able to travel her circles as a partner. The dalliances she'd expected. No one in her acquaintance had fidelity as a basis for their marriage, and she hadn't gone into hers with any anticipation she'd be different.
But the day he'd come home and told her he was in love with the conniving, ladder-climbing Louisa Mills, she'd come unglued.
She'd set her connections well, and it had been the work of a phone call to get a full employment file on Louisa Mills. And as she'd flipped page by page through the dossier, she'd grown angrier and angrier.
With a lower-middle-class upbringing and a city college degree, Louisa Mills had somehow found her way into the hallowed halls of Reynolds Investments. The shortsightedness of Gretchen's father-in-law, no doubt. The old man loved a pretty young face and a long pair of legs. Damn twat was probably smart enough to use them, too.
"Mother!" The urgent summons penetrated her thoughts. "I've been calling you." Harlow breezed in, her tennis attire already in place for their early morning match. A long braid flowed down her back, all her auburn locks neatly wrapped up in preparation for their game. "I thought you were going with me this morning. You're not dressed. Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine. Just finishing up a few things."
"What few things? Come on. We have a game."
"Melly Bitterman and her daughter will wait for us."
Harlow's eyes, so like Kincade's narrowed as she crossed through the peacock-blue sitting area. "What's the matter with you? You know I hate tennis with the Bittermans."
"I thought you liked Sandra?"
"I did like Sandra. But since she becomes a bitter woman every June wedding season since we passed the age of twenty-two, I've changed my mind."
Unwilling to share the real details of why she wasn't ready, Gretchen leaped on the wedding comment. "You'd think you would follow suit. At least Sandra is trying to find a husband."
Harlow stared at the ceiling, also a gesture she'd inherited from her father. "I can't believe I passed up a weekend at the Glen in deference to keeping up the friendship with Melly and keeping you company."
"You know how I feel about that horrid sport."
"And you know how I feel about it, too. So hop to it or call Melly to cancel. Either way, I'm not sitting around."
"Fine. Let me call Melly and push us back by a half hour." Gretchen reached for her phone, her hand brushing the papers on her desk. She scrambled for them, but Harlow beat her to the small stack on the floor.
"Private investigator? Detective Rossi? Mother, what is this?"
"From steak to beer. I gotta hand it to you, McGee. You know how to entertain a woman." Daphne glanced down over the suit she wore, the thick rubber material like a space suit. It wasn't how she'd expected to spend her Saturday night, but now that she was here she couldn't be happier.
"I do think I'm breaking one of Cosmo's ten sacred rules, though, by wearing this ever-so-attractive suit on a second date."
His answer was deadpan straight as he zipped up his own yellow monstrosity. "I thought it was our third."
"You really are counting the hot dogs?"
"You claimed it was a date the moment I whipped out my wallet."
"So I did." She gauged the moment-and the relatively few people milling around-and went for broke. "Which also means you've passed the third-date barrier. Sex is now officially on the table."
"I wasn't aware it was off."
He leaned in, that big body moving close to hers, and Daphne had to admit to herself that sex had never been off the table. Not from the very first moment. His lips brushed her ear and an eruption of shivers ran the length of her spine and straight back up in the span of a breath.
"I won't attempt to excuse my caveman genes and tell you sex has been on the table for me since about twenty years before we met. Sex is always on the table. But I will say, in the hierarchy of hopefulness and seeming sure things, bringing you to an event hosted by my future sister-in-law does smack of a degree of confidence about future carnal activities."
In that moment, whether it was the silly words, or the sexy undertones, or the fact that he still looked at her like she was a piece of cheesecake despite the tubby suit, Daphne fell just a little bit more for Landon McGee.
She also knew the banter had just moved way past her abilities.
Detective, 0. Sexy computer geek, 1.
His head bent toward hers, their lips close enough to touch, Daphne wanted so much more than to simply kiss him. She wanted to forget the date and the room and all that still stood between them and just wrap herself up inside of this man.
It felt right. Real. And completely wonderful, no matter how many ways she ran it through her mind or told herself she should walk away.
He was a good man. And while he may have a dismal past, he'd used that to shape himself into a fine person with a good life. She'd worked in law enforcement long enough to know how few were able to do the same.
It was yet another facet drawing her to him and making her want to know more. Understand more. Share more. Even as it was the very same facet that made what she did-delving into a past he'd worked so hard to overcome-intrusive. He ran a finger over the back of her hand before he stepped back. Could he read her thoughts? There were moments she felt as transparent as glass, and others where it seemed she'd closed off a part of herself to keep her professional side at bay.
Granted the reprieve, she quieted the mental clamor of questions and gathered herself instead. She and Landon were here to have a good time. It was high time she left the angst and the questions outside.
A glance around the space gave Daphne a sense of the historic building that housed the Unity Brewery. Old pictures and paintings covered the walls, a showcase of Brooklyn's history and the brewery that had been in the middle of it all. They'd already passed through the bottling room and a viewing area that overlooked large copper holding tanks. Now they were in a dressing area, zipped into suits required for spending time with the beer.
The suit was horrifically unattractive-the very epitome of large, bulky, and unsexy-but there was something funny about it, too. If Landon could look at her in this and still consider kissing her, perhaps the two of them had a shot. Tubby suits and beer tasting were a far cry from the way she'd spent her day, and a bit of funny would go a long way toward washing away the muck.
Her partner's vacation hadn't reduced the workload-or the two new cases she'd caught on Friday-and she'd spent her afternoon making calls and updating a few of her reports in an effort to get ahead of the Fourth of July holiday week. The end of her week had produced another break-in and an identity theft that had possible links to a larger case she'd been working the past few months. All in all a crummy way to spend a summer Saturday afternoon, but all the more reason to shake the day off and focus on having a good time.
"Landon!" The excitement echoed across the room as an attractive blonde made her way over, a suit half-zipped at her waist. When Daphne saw Nick Kelley in tow, she knew this was Landon's future sister-in-law, Emma Vandenburg.
After a round of hugs and introductions, Emma pulled Daphne aside. "I'm so glad you're here. Nick mentioned he met you the other night, and we both know your brother Cade. He really helped out a few weeks ago when Nick was having issues with a patron."
"Cade mentioned it around the time he filed the case. Have you had any problems since?"
"None." Emma's excitement faded. "The guy had some serious issues, though. Do you know if Cade managed to get him into rehab?"
Daphne debated the answer, well aware the truth painted a glum picture on an evening meant for fun and revelry. A sad truism of her job. "Not yet."
Before she could follow the change in mood, Emma reached out and pulled her close for a tight hug. "I'm glad you're here."
"Landon said you're revamping your brewery tours. Are we one of your first guests?"
"Guinea pigs is more like it," Emma said with an easy laugh, "but I promise it will be fun."
"I was pretty much in when Landon mentioned free beer."
"Our saving grace." Emma gestured to the room, increasingly filling with people. "All part of the revitalization of the Unity. Nick and I went to battle over ownership and once we realized we could both own it quite successfully together, we put our stubborn egos toward fixing the place up and making something of it."