10

Mollie had spread over her kitchen table everything that had ever been said about Chet Farnsworth from his first interview on joining NASA to a review in the Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel of his Sunday performance. She felt sane, professional, able to concentrate on her work. Last night’s lunacy was behind her.

But when her phone rang, she jumped and stared at it, heart racing, as if it were possessed by evil spirits. Yesterday’s threatening call still reverberated. Her job, however, required her to be on the phone. She couldn’t let one cretin deter her.

She took a breath, picked it up, and said her name.

“Can’t you screen your calls?” Jeremiah asked without preamble.

“Not if I expect to stay in business.” She thought she sounded remarkably steady given the rush of stress chemicals pouring through her bloodstream. “What’s up?”

“I’m calling to check in.”

“Where are you?”

He didn’t answer at once. “Worth Avenue. I’m parked in front of a fancy children’s clothing store. There’s a mannequin in the window of a girl in a frilly dress. She looks like Little Bo Peep.”

Mollie smiled. “I know the shop.” Worth Avenue was Palm Beach’s answer to Rodeo Drive. “Is your friend Croc with you?”

“Croc isn’t my friend, and I don’t know where he is. I never know, which is one of the hazards of my association with him. After last night, I’m afraid he’s become a loose cannon. But it wouldn’t be easy reining him in.”

“That must be unnerving for you.” Not to mention for her.

“Aggravating is more like it. Tell me about your day, Mollie. What do you have going?”

“I need to run an errand this morning-on Worth Avenue, as a matter of fact.”

“We could meet for coffee.”

She settled back in her chair at the kitchen table, calmer. “Don’t you have a real story you should be working on?”

“I’ve got a few leads I could chase down, but right now I’m still officially between stories. I can focus on you.” His voice was low, the twangy drawl not too obvious. “Don’t you feel lucky?”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Since you waltzed back into my life, I’ve been attacked, threatened, suspected of being a thief, and driven to letting you and your mysterious friend Croc sneak around while I ate dinner.”

“You’ve also been kissed quite thoroughly.”

“Jeremiah, you are incorrigible.”

“So people keep telling me, although not because I find myself kissing just anyone in a parking garage.” He paused. “We should have gone upstairs last night.”

She inhaled sharply, a hot jolt of awareness coursing through her. “You’re in an awfully cheeky mood this morning.”

“Comes from lack of sleep. What’re you doing after Worth Avenue?”

He would not be distracted from the point of his call, which was to keep tabs on her. “I have a luncheon at the Paulette Mansion. A security expert is speaking to one of the local women’s societies-”

“George Marcotte. How fortuitous. I’ll be there myself.”

“You will?” She frowned. “Why?”

“Gut instinct. Plus I’ve lined up a quick interview with Marcotte. I want to hear his take on our cat burglar.”

“You just made that up.”

He laughed. “For a publicist, you have a suspicious mind.”

“That’s because I know you.”

“You’re getting there.” The sexy undertone was unmistakable. “Reconsider coffee.”

He started to hang up, but Mollie said, “I talked to Leonardo this morning. I asked him if he had any enemies who might be targeting me to get to him. You know, that’s what this could be about. Someone setting me up for the robberies or just capitalizing on them as a way of getting at Leonardo.”

“What did he say?” Jeremiah asked, serious now. She could almost feel his mind opening, taking in a new scenario.

“He has enemies-the usual jealousies and lost loves and whatnot-but he can’t think of anyone who would take their animosity toward him out on me, and certainly not in such a byzantine approach.”

“Did he say byzantine?”

“Yes, why not?”

“I don’t think my father and I have ever used byzantine with each other, even when I studied Constantinople in the sixth grade. Okay. Never mind. Go on.”

She sighed. “His enemies, he said, were more likely to take a direct approach or just sue him.” She suddenly felt self-conscious, especially when Jeremiah went quiet on her. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. Consider every angle, right?”

“Yes. Thanks for telling me. I’ll give it some thought and see you at the luncheon.”

She hung up feeling prickly-skinned, as if she’d said something wrong, something that had spooked Jeremiah or sent him spinning off in a whole new direction. She could imagine him sitting in his truck, frowning, his reporter’s mind at work. When she finally headed off to Worth Avenue, she found herself looking for him. All the parking spots in front of the children’s store were taken, none with a beat-up brown truck. She ended up taking one farther down the street. She fed the meter, wondering if Jeremiah was watching her from a shop window.

Her errand took her to a small, eclectic music shop on one of the famous Worth Avenue vias-the shaded alleyways and patios Addison Mizner had set behind the buildings that fronted the street. Vines of fuchsia bougainvillea and ivy cascaded from the wrought-iron balconies of pastel-colored buildings, and there were window boxes and urns of bright flowers, decorative trees, stone fountains, and benches. Mollie breathed in the heavenly scents and sights, only half-pretending she wasn’t keeping an eye out for Jeremiah or his skinny cohort.

“You can relax,” she told herself. “It’s just another day on the job.”

She returned to her car without incident. Perhaps Jeremiah had already gone to the luncheon, she thought with a palpable sense of anticipation. Don’t analyze it, she told herself. Just go with it.

The luncheon was being held in a 1920s mansion that had been purchased and restored by a group of south Florida women executives. They’d turned it into an exclusive retreat, with elegant rooms available for public functions, especially those of particular interest to women. Mollie made her way back to the spacious, airy screened porch, where she immediately recognized Griffen’s touch in the mango-colored tablecloths and napkins in an array of vibrant colors. Each of the tables had its own small, perfect orchid in the center. Griffen herself was whirling around getting lunch pulled together, but caught Mollie’s eye long enough to give her a cautionary look. Which could only mean Jeremiah had arrived.

Mollie turned, and there he was, casually dressed, a contrast to most of the women drifting in, a mix of professionals and volunteers. Mollie herself had opted for a navy suit, not particularly creative, but it made her feel more brass-tacks and in control.

Jeremiah was studying her with a seriousness that, given the tone of their earlier conversation, she didn’t expect. “Is something wrong? Don’t tell me the thief’s already struck-”

He shook his head. His slate blue shirt brought out all the colors in his eyes, but emphasized the grays. “Your call to Leonardo got me thinking. It hadn’t even occurred to me before-” He inhaled, glancing around them for eavesdroppers. “Mollie, it’s possible I’m the one who’s brought all this down on you. You weren’t even aware of a jewel thief until after you saw me at the Greenaway.”

“But I was already the common denominator-”

“There are two ways of looking at that. One, it’s a coincidence that the thief is capitalizing on after the fact. Two, he deliberately chose events you attended. Either way, he could be using you to get to me.” His intensity charged the air between them. “It’s no more farfetched than considering Leonardo’s enemies.”

“Then the thief would have to know about our past relationship,” Mollie said, trying to get her brain around the complexities of what he was suggesting.