It had been their Friday night thing.
No matter how much work they had. No matter how poor they had been, how exhausted, or how much reading was stacked against the next day. On Fridays, they had gone there. Sometimes dressed properly, sometimes looking like two sleep-deprived students trying to pretend they had their lives under control. Always together.
Even when exams loomed. Even when one of them had been in a foul mood, and the other had dragged them out anyway. Friday nights had belonged to that little restaurant, a cheap bottle of wine, and the illusion that the rest of the world could wait until Saturday.
“It even smells the same,” Holt said.
“It really does.” June glanced around. “But I think most good Italian restaurants have the same aroma.” She gave a soft laugh. “In fact, it’s how I judge a good Italian restaurant.”
“You’re right,” Holt said, and there was that slow, sexy smile that had always done mad things to her pulse.
Their menus arrived, and with them came just enough distraction to let June get her breathing under control again. They ordered easily, almost without discussion. A dish for him, a different one for her, and a glass of wine each. It shouldn’t have startled her how natural that felt. But it did.
Once the server had gone, they sat for a moment in companionable silence, sipping their wine.
June had to bring her traitorous emotions under control and center on the meeting. She thought about what she’d noticed back at the inn when Margo asked Holt about the bracelet. And wondered again about his careful answer.
“That meeting was a good start,” June told him, watching him as his eyes lifted to hers.
“It was,” Holt agreed and took a sip of wine.
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing.
“What weren’t you telling Margo back at the inn?” June asked him. “About the bracelet?”
His gaze sharpened at once. June leaned back slightly, though she kept her tone even. “And why didn’t you mention you’d gone to speak to your mother about the bracelet and the jewelry set?”
For a second, he said nothing.
Then he set down his glass.
“I did ask her.” Holt leaned back, turning his glass.
June waited.
“I told my mother that the bracelet had shown up,” Holt said. “She was shocked. Truly shocked. My mother said she thought it was long gone and that she’d all but forgotten about it.”
“Did you tell her it had turned up at a crime scene?” June took another sip of wine, not really tasting it as she concentrated on their conversation.
“Yes.” Holt nodded.
“And?” June set the glass on the table and leaned forward on her elbows.
“My mother said she couldn’t tell me why it would end up at a crime scene. So I asked her why she and Uncle Abe never reported the set missing.” Holt pushed his glass aside and also leaned on his elbows, drawing closer.
June breathed in and caught the familiar scent of his cologne, which only made her already fluttery tummy a little more ticklish.
“What did Mina say to that?” June’s eyes widened curiously as she fought to control her senses that were being affected by how close they were.
“She went quiet. Then she asked if the whole set had turned up.” Holt’s voice dipped and was slightly rough as his pupils dilated slightly.
“What did you tell her?” June swallowed, trying to keep her mind focused on the conversation.
“That it was only the bracelet.” Holt’s eyes held hers, and she felt like she was being pulled into the void.
“Did she answer the insurance question?” June asked.
“She told me that back then there had been a run of jewel thefts in the surrounding towns and at the Grand Sandpiper Hotel. One set belonged to a visiting royal family and was considered priceless.” Holt lifted his glass without moving back.
