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13
The humid summer air was thick as molasses that night, making Liam’s suit cling uncomfortably as he leaned against the lion statue across the street from Margaret’s home. The streetlamps cast warm puddles of light along the sidewalk in front of her building. Her shiny bay window overlooked the park, and a multitude of flowers spilled from clay pots leading up the front steps. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the place looked as peaceful and idyllic as a drawing room painting, but according to the angels’ cryptic message, that was all about to change.
All the lights were on in her home, which meant she had to be there. He scanned both sides of the street, hating that he had no idea what kind of danger was lying in wait. He didn’t even know when the disaster the angels foretold would take place. Every person walking along the avenue appeared to be a threat. After being subjected to television for days, Liam’s imagination was spinning with visions of house fires and drive-by shootings and serial killers. Just the idea of Margaret being attacked by a knife-wielding man in a hockey mask was enough to send him darting across the street to her front door.
He rang the doorbell, preparing to do whatever it took to get her the hell out of there.
Margaret answered, her face flushed and eyes bright. She held a glass of wine in one hand, and her mouth opened in surprise when she saw him. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” He tried to step inside, but she stood her ground and blocked the doorway. Margaret was much shorter than him, but her rigid posture and fiery expression would make even the Bricks proceed with caution.
“I think you said enough last night on the phone.” She clutched the wineglass close and lifted her chin stubbornly.
Damn.He’d seen that look on Margaret’s face before. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Will you please hear me out?”
“I’ll hear you outside.” She hiccupped, then gave a slow, owl-like blink, and he realized she was tipsy. It didn’t take much for her. Back in his time, they’d often gotten drunk on fancy wine from her cellar while her husband was away. Three glasses and she was gone. A plan unfurled in his mind. At first, he’d thought to make up a story about a dangerous gang in the neighborhood so he could convince her to leave with him. If that didn’t work, he’d planned to take her by force, but it was Saturday night and the streets were busy. There was a popular university bar right around the corner, and people would surely witness a man carrying a kicking, hollering woman to his car. Luckily, it wouldn’t be necessary. She’d given him a much better idea.
“Please, Margaret,” Liam said softly, adding the soulful look that usually did the trick when he was seeking forgiveness from feisty females. “Just for a moment.”
She took another sip of wine while he waited, then finally gave an exaggerated sigh and stepped aside. “All right, fine.”
Liam followed her through the foyer and into the living room. Like her bedroom, it was decorated with upscale furniture in rich fabrics with floral and leaf patterns. There was a potted palm tree in one corner, and a large vase of freshly cut roses on a side table. A chandelier on the vaulted ceiling cast a warm glow throughout the room, and soft music played from speakers set into the walls. Everything about Margaret’s home was tasteful, exquisite and refined, just like her.
She walked over to a bar against the wall and refilled her wineglass. “Well? What’s so important that you had to interrupt my evening?”
“I came to apologize,” Liam said quietly. “I thought about what I said to you on the phone, and I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
She tried to feign indifference, but Liam saw right through it. “If you’ve come all the way across town to tell me you’re sorry for hurting me, I assure you, I’m fine.” Except she wasn’t. Her face was paler than usual, and she looked like she’d lost sleep.
“Let me take you out tonight,” he urged. “If you’ll give me the chance, I’d like to explain things.”
She took another gulp of wine. “Why don’t you tell me the truth about this sudden roommate of yours? Go on. I can handle it.”
I doubt it.“If you come out with me, I’ll answer any questions you have.”
She set her glass on the bar and crossed her arms. “You know, I’ve never asked much of you, Liam. I’m aware you have your secrets, and I never asked you to share them, but breaking up with me on the telephone?” She gave him a disappointed-teacher look that was so effective, Liam could just imagine her university students cowering behind their books. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”
“You do,” he assured her. “If you had any idea what I’m going through—”
“That’s just it,” she interrupted. “I never know because you never share. I didn’t even know you were moving in with another woman. Think about how messed up that is, considering we’ve been sleeping together for months. You never willingly offer up any information about yourself, and I always have to find out by accident. I don’t know anything about you besides your story of moving here from Ireland and joining the police force.” She began ticking things off on her fingers. “You don’t talk about your childhood. You don’t tell me about your family. You don’t share any of your feelings unless they’re between the sheets.”
Liam arched a brow. “You never seemed to have a problem with that before.”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m talking about everything else. I don’t even know your middle name. It’s like you have another life I’ll never be a part of because you insist on keeping me at arm’s length.”
He scoffed. “If we’re going to be pointing fingers, let’s not forget that you’re married.” He shouldn’t have said it. He knew it. But he couldn’t help himself. Margaret always did know how to get him worked up. All the more reason for him to walk away from her and concentrate on Cora, who was sweet and kind and comforting as a summer breeze. And he would walk away, but not tonight.
He studied the angry woman standing in front of him. By the looks of her, she was three seconds away from tossing him out.
Tread carefully, man. When riled, Margaret can be as cold as a winter squall.
She pursed her lips.
When you’re locked outside.
Lightning flashed in her stormy gray eyes.
With no coat on.
