The Gazebo. Kimberly Cates
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heavenly. Because I was afraid part of me would be weak enough to like it. Like being held, even by a jerk like you.
“Mom?” Emma’s voice dashed like cold water over Deirdre. She wheeled to see her daughter staring wide-eyed at Stone. Did she remember him? Deirdre wondered, recalling the tumultuous period when the P.I. had first charged into the McDaniels’ lives. But if Emma had any idea Stone was a private investigator she’d be doing her finest Snow Queen imitation instead of standing there grinning like a cat who’d just swallowed Tweety Bird whole.
No. Emma didn’t have a clue who Stone was, nor why he was at March Winds. The flabbergasted expression on the girl’s face was just plain astonishment because she’d never once seen her mother in a man’s arms.
For an instant Deirdre considered blurting out the whole truth. But Emma’s world had been so badly shaken in the past twenty-four hours that the thought of wiping a genuine smile off her daughter’s face was just too miserable to handle at the moment. Defying Cade and Finn and the Captain was difficult enough. Knowing Emma would take their side hurt more than Deirdre could bear. The thought of any rift between her and her daughter terrified her, carrying her back to the wall that had separated Deirdre from her own mother for so long.
Deirdre had sworn she’d never let anything get between her and Emma again. She’d come close enough to losing her daughter six years ago.
Yet, during that upheaval, Deirdre had managed to shield Emma from Jake Stone and his business with the McDaniel family. She’d do the same thing now. Until she could find a way to make Emma understand.
As if her daughter would ever be able to understand doing anything that might hurt her beloved grandpa.
“Yo, Mom, guess you took that advice I gave you last night after all. Talk about fast work!” She might as well have broken into a chorus of “It’s Raining Men, Alleluia.” Deirdre swept to the far side of the room, cheeks burning.
“This isn’t what you think,” Deirdre cautioned. “Mr. Stone is a professional…in restoration.”
Stone regarded her silently. It wasn’t a lie, Deirdre insisted to herself. The man restored things. Like sanity to lovesick idiots, and the money he’d gotten Finn and Cade to pay. He’d restored it to the person Finn’s father had stolen it from.
Whatever Stone’s thoughts on her evasion, he took his cue from her. “Your mother and I are working together on an historical project of sorts,” he said.
Emma flashed Stone her brightest smile. “So then we’ll be seeing a lot of you? I mean, if you’re working on March Winds’ ballroom. Aunt Finn has been saying for months she wants to expand something besides her waistline, Mr.—?”
“Stone. Jake Stone.” He extended his hand. Emma intentionally misunderstood and took both his hands to shake instead of the one. Deirdre died of embarrassment as her daughter none too subtly inspected the ring finger of Stone’s left hand.
Emma fluttered her lashes at him. “Awesome name. You should be an actor. And you’ve got a great face. All rugged and rough, like you’ve lived real hard. Not too pretty, know what I mean? Nothing more boring than a pretty man, right, Mom?”
Deirdre made a garbled sound that might be assent as she considered ways to throttle her daughter.
Stone ate the praise up. “Thank you,” he said. “You must be Emma. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Emma beamed. “Mom’s been talking about me again, huh? I promise she gets off the subject of how wonderful I am eventually. Then she’s a real crack-up.”
Stone raised one silky black eyebrow. “I’ll bet.”
“Hey! That is way cool!” Emma enthused. “That thing you do with your eyebrow. Can you teach me how? It would be great for character parts. Not that I intend to do many of those. I’m an actress. I just got the part of Juliet. But that’s just high school stuff. Mom sent me to camp last summer at the coolest drama school in the world. And my teachers offered me early enrollment. If everything works out right, I’ll take early graduation and be in New York by spring.”
Stone whistled. “New York is a long way from home. What’s your mom think about that?” The P.I. looked as if he really cared.
“She’s happier about it than I am!” Emma wrinkled her nose. “She doesn’t want me to get stuck in this little town. Like I would, ever!”
Deirdre wondered if her daughter had any idea how many times Deirdre herself had vowed the same thing. But life was tricky, dangerous. And what was that saying Cade quoted so often? If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.
“I know you’re loving this scintillating conversation with Mr. Stone, Emma, but he’s a busy man. I’m sure he has business to take care of.” Deirdre shot Stone a glance of dismissal impossible to misunderstand.
But Stone was regarding her with infuriating innocence. “Actually, my morning is free. And I’d love a chance to talk theater with someone who really understands quality performing. I saw a lot of it when I was growing up.”
Oh, yeah, that line of baloney fit the Stone she loved to hate. Mr. Broadway. He’d probably had front-row seats at striptease clubs and burlesque shows.
Damn the man! Couldn’t he see she was trying to get him out of here?
Deirdre wished she could demand to know what the real story of this little performance was. But she couldn’t do that without tipping her own hand—something she couldn’t risk doing in front of her daughter.
But if Deirdre could see right through Stone, Emma was blinded by his action-hero looks and lethal charm. No wonder Stone was such a successful private investigator. He could wrap women around those powerful, long fingers of his and make them want to thank him for it. A dangerous skill, and an unforgivable flaw where Deirdre was concerned. But Emma was utterly enchanted.
The teenager laughed, looking so adorable Deirdre doubted Attila the Hun could deny her anything she asked. “Mom and I have this tradition that when I get a new part,” she confided, “we go out for breakfast at this really cool place called Lagomarcino’s. It’s like an old-fashioned soda fountain from a jillion years ago.”
“More like a hundred,” Deirdre grudgingly corrected.
“Whatever,” Emma conceded breezily. “Want to come along, Mr. Stone?”
Duct tape, Deirdre thought inanely. Duct tape was the only solution. If she could just tear off a strip and plaster it across Emma’s mouth, she could put an end to this whole situation once and for all. But that would be child abuse, unless, of course, she got a jury stacked with mothers of teenage girls.
A rogue ex-cop who’d done something so bad he’d lost his badge wouldn’t be the kind of company Deirdre would want her daughter around, period. The danger of Emma discovering exactly what Deirdre had hired Stone to “restore” made the invitation even more alarming.
“Emma, Mr. Stone is a very busy man,” Deirdre began.
“Everybody has to eat. Please, Mr. Stone!” Emma didn’t bother trying to wheedle her mother into it. She turned the Big Eyes directly at Stone. “This town is the cultural armpit of the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m starving for news of the big wide world out there.” The girl all but pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, playing out her best death scene. “It would be heaven to talk to somebody who really knows theater. Besides, Mom and I never get the chance to be escorted by a dark, mysterious stranger around here. We’ll have the whole town talking. Think what fun that would be.”
“Being the subject of town gossip is highly overrated,” Deirdre said.
She felt Stone’s gaze rivet on her, knew that something in the tone of her voice had intrigued him, impelled him to try to chip away at secrets. Panic fluttered under her breastbone. She crushed it. Let him dig away. Deirdre figured before the end of this case he was bound to find out that she’d been number