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going to be my responsibility? Isn’t that what spinsters do?” She grimaced. A bit harsh, but hopefully distracting enough that neither Truitt male would have an inkling of her real motives.
“You’re not a spinster, you’re a divorcee.” David had moved towards her and gave her a playful wink.
Her heart fluttered, before sinking. Unfulfillable wish. But until the clock struck midnight...
“Same difference.” Her lip twitched and David ducked his head.
The other three men exchanged bewildered and suspicious glances.
Fiddlesticks. She was being a bit obvious, wasn’t she?
“I think your mother was hoping you’d stay on here until this business is settled and for a little while afterwards so we could discuss the future.” Her father coughed into his hand.
“Or rather your plans for my future.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Because of course they had plans for her. Plans that didn’t involve consulting her and certainly did not involve her charity and column and lots of time alone with David.
Ugh, not a battle she wanted, especially as she already needed to convince them to provide the funds despite...well...everything. Maybe the agents in Chicago would prove the threats had nothing to do with the charity after all? Wouldn’t that be something?
She sniffed a little. She never had that sort of luck.
“We’re here to help you, Amalia. To prevent disaster. Make sure you’re happy.” Her father interrupted her thoughts, his voice earnest. “We want to make certain everything goes right for you this time.”
Her heart panged. He meant well. As did her mother. And they’d both lost so much and had so many responsibilities. How did she expect them to see her and listen if they were being pulled in a million directions? How could she expect them to delve too deeply into who she was or what she wanted when she didn’t entirely know herself half the time?
She turned and gave her father a peck on the cheek. “Don’t fret, Father, things will go fine. I promise. You won’t have to worry about me anymore.” And he wouldn’t, because she had no intention of making him.
Amalia stroked a stray curl as a thought sprouted. She could steal moments with David and appear outwardly respectable too, couldn’t she? In Philadelphia? A nun to the world, but the Wife of Bath behind closed doors? He’d oblige to that sort of relationship, wouldn’t he? With neat, defined boundaries?
Until he stopped out of guilt. Or until she resented that he couldn’t give more. And they hurt each other. Again.
Another pang.
Amalia sucked in a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t think of it today. Her job today was to be happy and attend the bris. She’d win her funds tomorrow and after that...
“Anyway, why don’t we go over what will happen at least for the next few days, while we’re in Centerville, and until whomever it is, is apprehended so I can take that bath.”
The four men nodded in agreement, with Thad taking the lead to explain the plan.
* * *
David paced the guestroom, the same one he’d stayed in so long ago, twiddling his fingers. The unease, the unfinishedness still plagued at him. He was missing something. Or at least, something was not quite right. Though darned if he could figure it out, even after going through all the information they’d received from Chicago.
Well, they’d identified one person who disliked Amalia. And their motive. Her motive. Amalia’s chief critic was a rival columnist. And the team sent along a description of the woman, which he disseminated to everyone in the house so they could be on high alert. She lived over six hundred miles away and was being watched, so probably not the person actually tracking them, but better safe than sorry.
Hopefully, the questioning of the man in Pittsburgh, as well as the news from Bedford that another would-be-assailant was captured, yielded the real source of the threats. And they could apprehend whomever was behind this. And Amalia would be safe at last.
And the job would be finished. And there would be no reason for him to stay in Centerville. Or more, he’d be needed in Philadelphia and have to leave. Without Amalia. Unless he could convince her to come with him. Despite her father’s request.
David strolled to the mirror and stared at his reflection. His beard had grown back. He ran his tongue over his teeth. Should he shave it? He pulled out a razor.
“Don’t you dare,” a female voice exclaimed.
Amalia stood in the entry. Some security he was, he hadn’t even noticed that she opened the door. He should get more sleep, especially as this might be a dream since she only wore some sort of nightdress. His body’s reaction was instant. As were the erotic images that slammed through his mind, some of which might not be physically possible, but damned if they could just try.
Unfortunately, now was not the time nor place for any of it.
“Your parents are going to murder you, or more likely me, if they find you in here.” He backed towards the window and clasped his hands behind his back to stifle any urge to touch himself, or her, or both of them. He cursed to himself before gazing at the floor for a moment so he could find the frame of mind to say something remotely intelligent. “I thought you have a private bath.”
“I do, but I was stealing some soap from Ro’s old one. I wanted lavender, not gardenia for tonight.” She swished into the room, closed the door and sank onto the bed, her eyes steady and serious. “But please, David, don’t shave it. I like it.”
