His calloused fingers were gentle, wrestling the little buttons, and his breath hitched at the same moment she felt cool air hit her bare back. She let the spiderweb-thin lace of the cap sleeves slide off her shoulders, then all the way off her arms, and when she faced him again, maybe just a little bit afraid this time, she saw his grey eyes darken with desire. Then, for the second time that night, he lifted her off her feet, cradling her against him. This time there were no sequins or bits of lace between them. No cotton or wool or hesitation. The warmth of his skin pressed against hers, chest to chest, his bare arms on her body, and she shivered with anticipation. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, his lips on her neck, her arms, her mouth. He moved above her, holding himself up with his arms, and his eyes searched hers.
She reached up with one hand to trace the lines of his scar, to remind him there was nothing between them.
“Don’t be afraid, Jerry,” she whispered.
PART– four –
twenty-fourCASSIE
— Present Day —
Matthew was leaning against an unpainted pillar on the front porch when Cassie drove up to the house, his arms folded, eyes on the tail lights of a receding Lexus. He smiled at her as she parked, and a part of her melted at the sight of it. Every time she saw him, she liked him a little more.
She handed him a coffee. “If you want cream or sugar, I have it in the car.”
He took one of each, and she added that to her growing list of things she knew about him.
“The porch looks brand new!” she said, admiring the new boards and walking toward the bay window. “And you fixed up the window. Looks great.” She lifted a hand, shielding her eyes from the sun, and glanced back down the road. “Who was that?”
“A developer. He just offered me half a million bucks to build a condo here.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Oh,” she said. “Are you considering it?”
“I’d be lying if I said that the money didn’t matter. The renovations are costing a small fortune.”
She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the bay window, not wanting Matthew to see how much that hurt. It was good for him, though. Half a million dollars was a great deal, she tried to convince herself. Through the glass, she could see he had finished the wide-open living room, and the walls glowed with a fresh coat of paint. Now he’d let them bulldoze it? Unless…
“You know, the bottles might be worth something.”
He eyed her. “Really? Any idea how much?”
“I called my guy today, and he’ll get back to me with an estimate soon. There are a few factors to consider for the valuation. They’re not from a major distillery, but they’re old, and there’s probably a tale to go with the bottles, so that would add to the value to a certain extent. I don’t want to guess.”
“I’d love to hear that tale. Why would they have hidden them in the wall?”
“I have no idea, but I’m working on it. When I was digging in the archives, I discovered the Baileys’ business was ruined after a police raid. They lost it all—except what you found, of course. Riches to rags overnight. After that, there was basically nothing about them in the papers. The mystery is so intriguing.” She sipped her coffee. “I did read about a few other things going on at the time, and it would be very cool if they somehow connected, but I really have no idea so far. It seems there was a big gangster around here who disappeared mysteriously in 1921 some time after the Bailey brothers had their warehouse seized. My boss, Mrs. Allen, seems to recall reading somewhere that they had a rivalry. If the bottles have anything to do with that kind of legendary gang stuff, it might increase their value. I don’t know. I’m still working on it. Luckily, Mrs. Allen is a whiz at local history. If anything can be found, she’ll probably be the one to find it.”
Matthew gave her a slow, drawn-out smile that fluttered in her chest. “Well, whether or not they are connected, I’ve found something else that makes this mystery way more interesting. It’s over here.”
He led her from the porch and past the barn, stopping at the sinkhole where she could see that he had been digging. A ladder leaned against one side, and a shovel was sticking out of the earth. The hole was quite deep. It would have taken him a few days. At the bottom he had spread out a towel.
“This area didn’t feel natural to me. In construction, we don’t usually see something like this unless there’s been a collapse of some kind. Then I remembered you saying that Jeremiah and John were tunnellers, and my mind went to all the tunnels and secret hiding spots people had back then, and I got curious.”
She peered into the deep hole again, feeling that same sense of curiosity. Like when her cat, Tom, felt something unseen in the air. “And you found something?”
“I did.” He hesitated. “Do you have a strong stomach?”
“That’s a scary question. I’m not sure.”
He led her to the ladder, then at the bottom, he lifted off the towel. Cassie stumbled backward, stunned.
“That’s a skull,” she said breathlessly.
“You’re a museum person,” he said. “You’ve seen bones before.”
“Yeah, but…” She squatted by the find. It wasn’t just a skull. She could see most of a skeleton here as well. She shuddered, wondering if the bones might belong to one of her ancestors, then her thoughts shifted to the stories she’d been reading earlier that day. She looked up at him. “What if this is that missing gangster? Dead on Bailey land?” She stared back at the bones, trying to figure it all out. “But wouldn’t my grandmother have known?”
Matthew cocked his head. “What does your grandmother have to do with anything?”
