“It’s been fifteen years, Duke. You didn’t have a problem with my nature before.”
He returned my phone. “I was stupid and didn’t know what I was falling in love with.”
“Yes, you were. I told you exactly what I was looking for and what I wasn’t. I never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”
I could have. I wasn’t as strong as my mother, but I had power enough to bend most men and a fair number of women. My mother had made damn sure I understood and respected that power. I’d learned the difference between seduction and rape before I learned my ABCs.
“I wanted more,” said Duke.
“I didn’t.” His proposal had come at the worst time. Morgan had just been born, and I’d been winding down my PI gig so I’d have more time to focus on Blake and my new grandson. I’d thought I could make up for old mistakes by doing better as a grandmother than I’d done as a mother. Then there was the amount of time and work I’d been putting into Second Life Books.
“I spent four days making that rock,” he said.
“It was a gorgeous black diamond, but I told you I was through with marriage. Four strikes and I’m out.”
“I thought maybe you’d change your mind for me.”
Enough bullshit. I stepped toward him. “Marmaduke Stone, are you mad because I broke your heart? Or is it because I bruised your ego when I had the gall to tell you no?”
Chunk waddled over to stand between me and Duke. She bared her teeth and growled.
“Take it easy, you daft lump of marble,” said Duke. “Nobody’s threatening anyone.”
The stone cat blinked, cocked her head, and made a ridiculous chirrup sound.
It was enough to break the tension. I chuckled, and Duke’s lips tugged into a rueful grin.
“I won’t apologize for my choices,” I said. “But I do wish things hadn’t ended so badly. I never meant to hurt you.”
He turned away and rubbed his scalp. “What else can you tell me about the kid in the picture?”
“He’s either from the South or he spent time down there. He called himself Ronnie. No way of knowing if it’s his real name.”
Duke pulled his personal phone from his back pocket. It was an older model with a heavy-duty case inlaid with curved lines of what was probably real gold. The screen unlocked and began popping up browser windows. “Five hundred bucks.”
“Does that include the demon tax?”
He grimaced. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was crude. Hell, I’ve had demon tenants. None right now, but there was a lovely sloth demon couple who stayed in apartment three for most of last year. There’s a pukwudgie family there now. They’ve got the cutest little toddler, but those quills—”
“You’re rambling, hon.” I smiled to soften the words.
“The point is, it was a stupid thing to say. Forgive me?”
“Find that kid, and we’ll call it even.” I opened my purse. “Though I can’t imagine why a man who can make his own gemstones needs money from anyone else.”
“My stones might be pretty, but they aren’t natural.”
My mouth quirked. “They seemed perfectly normal to me.”
He blushed harder this time, all the way to the top of his scalp. “A good jeweler would flag mygemstonesas fakes. They’re a little too dense and too heavy and too perfect.”
“Modest as ever.”
He waved off my words. “Real gems have inclusions and imperfections. Synthetics don’t, but mine have more depth and luster than any lab-made rock.”
While he worked, I scratched Chunk behind the ears. She seemed to enjoy it, and it had the added bonus of filing and smoothing my nails.
“Found him.” His phone went dark. He tucked it back into his pocket. “Margaret Wentworth Kensington.”
