“Does he always keep such close tabs on your stories?”
“No, never. I wouldn’t allow it. He knows I’m not officially on this thing, and he feels some ownership of it because he brought it to me.”
“I see.” She drank more of her lemonade, her eyes not on him. “Tell me about this Croc character. How does he know I’ve been present at all the incidents? Be straight with me, Jeremiah.”
He took another swallow of lemonade. “I don’t know how he made you as a common denominator. He won’t tell me.”
She remained calm. “Then he’s unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable, yes, but I suspect he’s just playing James Bond. I told him to stay away from you. Now. Tell me about Leonardo. What are you going to do when your year at his place is up?”
“What does that have to do—”
“Indulge me, Mollie.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do. I hope I’ll have enough saved for a condo, maybe a little house. I don’t think I want to stay in Palm Beach. I’d like to move a bit farther south, to Boca or even Fort Lauderdale.”
“As far south as Miami?”
“There’d have to be a good reason.”
Jeremiah glanced at his bare-bones furnishings, his reptile cages in the next room. Dangerous thinking. Very dangerous. He shifted back to the subject at hand. Work. It had always pushed back the dangerous thoughts. “You won’t miss Leonardo’s place? All that space, the pool, the hired help.”
She sat back, relaxing slightly. “I’ve been living in the lap of luxury. It’s been fun. But I can always pop in for a visit. Leonardo’s one of the most generous people I’ve ever known. My parents have a standing invitation to come down, but they’re always so busy and involved with their work—and they’d probably barely notice their surroundings if they did come. That kind of stuff’s wasted on them.”
“They don’t swim?”
“Mother does laps for exercise. Swimming’s purely utilitarian for her. She’d love to see Leonardo, of course.” Mollie paused, narrowed her eyes on Jeremiah, suddenly suspicious. “You don’t think I’d start stealing because I’m worried about having to give up my Leonardo Pascarelli lifestyle, do you? You know, I’m not so different from my parents that I even want that much opulence. It wouldn’t occur—”
“Mollie, I don’t suspect you.”
She inhaled, the blue of her clear eyes deepening with irritation. “But you’re neutral,” she said stiffly. “You won’t say categorically that I couldn’t possibly be the thief. You won’t take my side. You’re incapable of taking anyone’s side. That’s why you’re a reporter. You can remain apart, aloof, uninvolved.”
“I strive for balance and objectivity, yes.” His tone was steady, but he was already on his feet, already moving toward her. “It’s a goal, not necessarily something that comes easily or is even always possible. In this case, it’s not.”
And he removed her lemonade glass from her stiff fingers, set it on the floor, and drew her up to her feet. A flush of color, of anticipation, had risen in her pale cheeks. He touched her mouth. “Mollie, Mollie.” He tasted her lips. “Do you think I can be neutral where you’re concerned?” He tasted them again, felt the spark of her response. “Objective? Balanced?”
“I don’t know.”
“Really?”
And he kissed her, long and hard and deep. If she’d drawn back, if she’d even hesitated, he would have come to his senses. But she didn’t, and he let his hands drift down her back, the curve of her hips. He let himself experience the full impact of their kiss on him, on her. She tucked her arms tentatively around him, and he could see she’d shut her eyes, probably trying to convince herself this was a memory of a past encounter, not a real moment in the present.
“Open your eyes, Mollie,” he whispered, “don’t try to pretend this is a memory.”
She looked at him, her mouth close to his, her eyes half-opened. She raised one hand and brushed it along his jaw. “It’ll be a memory soon enough, won’t it?”
“It’s not one now.”
“I have to be realistic. As much as I want this…” She kissed him lightly, her hand drifting down his shoulder, and it was all he could do to stand there and listen to her. She drew back slightly. “I know it won’t last.”
“Because it didn’t last time?”
“You went into it last time wanting a weeklong diversion. I went into it…” She breathed, maintaining her calm. “I went into it not knowing what I wanted. Now, I’m not so inexperienced. I know myself better. And I know you.”