“But sleeping with yourdaughter’sboss isn’t really a problem,” Stephanie added pertly, then crunched into a nacho as if to punctuate her statement—while giving him the stink eye. Her cheeks were still dull red, but apparently food had won out overawkwardness.
Declan didn’t respond to her comment. Instead, he took refuge in the fridge, opening the door and peering inside to see if there was any sort of rescue therein. The only thing remotely close to an escape was a single bottle of a B-Cubed lager, and even that didn’t lookpromising.
When the fridge began to ding its warning that the door had been open too long, he reluctantly emerged to find Stephanie and Leslie watchinghim.
“And he complains that I keep the door open too long,” Stephanie said with an expert roll of hereyes.
“So,” Declan said, getting out glasses to pour iced tea. Because he needed to be doing something. “How was school today? Any new projects ortests?”
“And just as important—any drama?” Leslie asked with agrin.
“Brooklyn Delton says her mom is really pissed at you,” Stephanie announced, looking at Declan. “Just wait till she hears aboutthis.”
“Wait—what?” Declan nearly dropped the glass pitcher. “Now wait a second, Steph—you’re not going to be going around tellingpeople—”
He stopped when his daughter began to laugh uproariously. “Are you kidding? As if I’d be going around telling people I walked in on mydadhavingsex.”
“You didnotwalk in on your dad having sex,” he said from between clenched teeth, his thoughts exploding wildly. How did he ever think he could be the father of a teenaged girl—by himself? How did he ever think he could begin to understand them? Women were an exotic species, but teenaged girls…even moreso.
“Well, practically. And with myboss.”
Declan looked at Leslie, who seemed utterly unaffected by the whole situation. How was that evenpossible?
“I guess I should be going,” she said, sliding off her stool. Her eyes lingered on him for a minute, then moved on to Stephanie. “I’ll see you on Saturday, allright?”
“Right.” But Steph seemed a little hesitant, and that made Declan feel even guiltier. He hoped she wouldn’t quit her job because ofthis.
He walked Leslie to the door, then stepped out onto the porch where Steph couldn’t see them and closed the door. “Sorry about all that,” hesaid.
Leslie just smiled up at him, easing in so their bellies met. “It’s all right, Dec. I’m sorry it put you in a difficultposition.”
“I’m not. It was worth every awkward moment.” He bent to kiss her, with both thoroughness and regret. “This was not the way I hoped things would go—all rushing up and out of bed and scrambling into ourclothes.”
“Oh really? Does that mean you’re interested in a second round?” she teased, her hands settled on the front of his shoulders, her smiling eyes only a few inchesaway.
“More like a fifth, sixth, tenth round,” he said. “Atleast.”
“Have a good night, Dec. I knowI’llsleep well.” She winked audaciously at him, then sauntered down the steps and to hercar.
He turned and went back inside to face themusic.
* * *
Leslie was still smilingand basking as she pulled up the driveway to Shenstone House. It was just about five o’clock, which meant she had plenty of workdayleft.
And she’d be doing it all with a grin of satisfaction and a gentle soreness from the excellent activity in which she’d been engaged that afternoon. Cherry might advocate yoga for physical release, but Leslie was partial to sex. Especially the toe-curling, explosive kind she’d had withDeclan.
She let herself into the house and paused, calling for Rufus—whom she’d let out before leaving—to see if he was interested in coming in. No response, so she closed the door and dropped her keys, phone, and bag on the counter, then, smiling, walked into her suite to change into workclothes.
Ten minutes later, she was down in the speakeasy with two large work lights she’d bought that morning while out running errands. The extension cord had to be plugged in on the main floor, but at least she had full illumination for the firsttime.
“Now I can get down to business.” She knew—justknew—that Red Eye Sal’s jewelry cache was here somewhere. If it existed—which she’d already confirmed—and hadn’t been seen or known of since 1926, it had to be here in the house. And since she’d found an old newspaper in the speakeasy with that year on it, Leslie was certain that was the last time the secret room had been used—for whatever reason. Prohibition hadn’t ended for another five years, but there seemed to be no logical reason for a newspaper to be sitting on a table for that length of time in a room that was usedregularly.
Leslie found the new lights both a blessing and a curse, for what they illuminated with their bright white bulbs was often something she’d have preferred not to see. A little mold here, the skeletal remains of more than one rodent, minor cracks in the foundation, and otherdetails.
Still, she hummed and worked her way around the room, inch by inch, bringing one of the lights with her to blaze over the wall as she examined it for any sign of a hidden door orpanel.
Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to make the room comfortable and elegant, for the walls were all paneled. Beneath the solid maple paneling was cinderblock—at least as far as she could tell without removing every wall. She pried off a few random pieces, taking care to keep them intact so they could be replaced. Beneath the carpet, the concrete floor was slightly damp, and though there was no sign of past water damage, Leslie was going to have the basement waterproofed anyway. Just incase.
