Love Songs (50 page)

“
Smaller
matter?” Serena miraculously came to life. “What about my money, Tom? Have I lost it all? What about the satisfaction of seeing André pay for the agony he put me through? Where’s the justice there?”

Turning, Tom put a forefinger against her lips. “Shhh.” Then, glancing above her toward the detective, he snapped his head toward the door. Within a minute they were alone. “Listen, Serena, I’d like to go downtown with them. Just to make sure our interests are protected.”

“When will you explain all this to me?” she asked, still bewildered and unable to accept that it was, in all probability, over.

“I’ll be done later. You go to work. I’ll stop by there on my way from the police station.”

“Work? How can I think of work today … after this?”

“There’s
Sweet Serenity
,” he reminded her with a teasing smile. “It’s your baby.”

“But, Tom—”

“Shhh.” Again he quieted her. This time, however, he reached for a folder that lay atop the recording equipment. “Here, take this with you. If you get a minute look at it. OK?” Before she was able to examine its contents Tom had kissed her and left.

10

This particular morning Serena’s heart was no more in
Sweet Serenity
than her mind was on it. She opened the shop as usual, tending to the early dribble of customers only until Nancy arrived, when she took refuge in the back and opened the folder Tom had given her.

Anticipation of its contents made them no easier to examine. Even after sixteen years the pain of her father’s downfall was intense. Yet what lay before her was no rehash of the newspaper clippings that had cut her so sharply once. Rather, Tom had offered his own file, his notes, his comments, his strategy, his raw data, and his personal log for her study.

For the first time Serena looked at the case from the standpoint of a less partial observer. For the first time she saw it through Tom’s eyes. And, in the period of time it took her to go over each bit of information he’d gathered, each personal notation that had gone into the presentation of
his
case, she came to the conclusion that what he had maintained from the start of their reacquaintance had been true. She might fault him for overenthusiasm, for making headlines of something that, given other circumstances, might have been buried on page forty-eight, but he had not been wrong in his indictment any more than the court had been wrong in its conviction. Her father had been guilty of embezzlement. For the first time she could truly accept that.

Closing the file at last, she came to a realization that had even more relevance to the present. Not only had Tom’s findings been correct, but he had gone about reaching them in a faultless manner. His investigation had been a painstaking one, much slower and more cautious than she had previously imagined. His personal jottings revealed his own hesitation to print a word without what he felt was sufficient corroboration. Through it all came a very clear sense of conscience. With dawning respect for his commitment she wiped away the last of her doubts.

Suddenly it became imperative to speak with him. Her watch read eleven-thirty. The bustle of the lunch hour was approaching, but she couldn’t wait. For everything that
Sweet Serenity
meant to her, Tom meant more. Leaving Nancy at the helm, she charged from the shop and took a cab to the police station.

The sergeant on duty was less than sympathetic. “Look, miss,” he cajoled her, “
all
our business is urgent. Relax. Take it easy. We’ll find him for you.” With an indolence that made Serena want to scream the officer picked up the phone and made several calls before directing her down one corridor, up a set of stairs, to the left, then the right, then straight on ahead.

The miracle was that she found her way without a hitch. It helped that, on the last straightaway, Tom came running out to meet her. “What is it, Serena?” he cried in alarm, his hazel eyes as wide in fright as hers were in determination. “They said it was urgent. Is something wrong?”

“Can we talk somewhere?” she gasped, panting from the exertion of racing to find him. “Some office, a closet—somewhere?”

Relieved to find her neither crying nor in the throes of a monumental headache Tom calmed down a bit. “Here, let’s see.” One by one he opened doors along the corridor, excusing his intrusion until at last he found a small cubicle with a table, two chairs, and total privacy. “This should do,” he declared, following her in and closing the door behind them. “Now, what’s this all about? What’s happened?” He leaned back against the door, braced for a complication that was never to come.

For Serena faced him, smiled brightly, and rushed to wind her arms about his neck. “I love you. I just wanted to tell you that.”

Incredulous, Tom studied the upturned face just inches below his. “What?”

“I love you.”

The corners of his lips twitched in delight. “You ran all the way down here to tell me?”

“Yes. I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I love you.”

His arms grazed her hips as he raised them to lock about her waist. “No more doubts?”

“No.”

“Go on.” He waited for the chorus.

“I love you.”

With a moan, he tightened his embrace, crushing her against him for a moment before lowering his head to kiss her. His lips parted hers; his tongue touched hers. And they both gasped at the shock that sent a burst of fire through them.

“Ahh … why here? Why here?” he rasped, trailing his fingers down her spine to the small of her back. His subsequent pressing of her hips to his spoke of his instant arousal.

Serena’s eyes held a hint of mischief. “Because I couldn’t wait any longer. To tell you that.
And
to find out what’s happening. Tell me about André’s scheme.”

He grinned. “You’re a witch. Do you know that?”

She backed away from him and led him to the table, leaning against him when he perched on its edge. Her arms were still around his neck. She had no intention of letting go. “Tell me,” she ordered in an urgent whisper.

Tom sighed. “André’s theft of your money is only the tip of the iceberg. In the company of Alderpersons Carruthers and Grant the plan was to use municipal funds, supposedly invested in bonds, for reinvestment in the speculative deals he mentioned to you. In exchange for his use of the money André was giving healthy kickbacks to the other two, over and above his own killing.”

“But he got nothing, or so he said.”

“That was the catch. Had his speculation panned out he would easily have been able to replace not only your money, but the city’s, without anyone being the wiser. Unfortunately, he’s lost almost everything.”

Serena had somehow been prepared for that. Her more immediate concern was elsewhere. “You knew about this before he talked, didn’t you?” She eyed him askance.

“Yes, Serena. I did.”

“That meeting that upset you so?”

“That was part of it, yes. I guess you want the whole story?”

“Well…?”

“The Mayor contacted me shortly after I arrived in this area. He knew of my reputation as an investigative reporter and asked if I would keep an eye on something. He already suspected what was going on, but he needed evidence. This was one of those situations I mentioned hypothetically, where people in politics were involved and there was a question as to how deep the corruption ran. I was an outsider, a newcomer. It seemed a logical move.”

“Have you gotten much?”

“Dribs and drabs. He was shrewd, for the most part. He slipped up when it came to you. He totally underestimated you.” Tom smiled. “
He
didn’t know about the fire in you.”

“But he suspected you.” She ignored his bait to rush on.

“I’m afraid my reputation preceded me, even though I retired from most investigative reporting several years ago. He was wary of me based on that reputation, but
our
relationship certainly didn’t add to his peace of mind. And my knowing of your business involvement with him did nothing for
my
peace of mind. I feared you’d be put right in the middle and you were. Fortunately it’s turned out for the best.”

Serena nuzzled the firm skin of his neck. “You know, I was appalled at the insane desire for vengeance I felt before. That was an awakening! You were right about that, too—the sense of being victimized and having no faith that justice will be done. What will happen to André?”

“That’s for the judge to decide. He’s in the process of confessing everything, at his lawyer’s recommendation, no less. The case against him is strong enough that, considering the public furor there will be when it all gets out, he’ll be lucky to get away without serving hard time.”

“He’s ruined. It’s a shame.”

“It always is.”

Their thoughts converged not on André, but on Serena’s father. At last they were in agreement and the matter was closed. With its closing, however, came the opening of a new, more immediate, yet far-reaching consideration.

“You’ll marry me, won’t you?” Tom asked softly.

“Is that what you want?” Her eyes glowed even through her concern.

“More than anything.”

“But you’ve been through this once.”

“No. It was totally different then. We were too young. We were totally ill-equipped to understand each other’s needs, to fulfill them, and then, when it started to fall apart, to do anything about it.”

“You said once that you feared involvement,” she reminded him gently, wanting no stone left unturned.

“I was wrong then as you were wrong to let the ghost of the past haunt you, though I’m sure as hell glad it did. Otherwise you would have been long since snatched up before
I
arrived on the scene. I need you, Serena. I want you with me always.” As she basked in the aura of his love he paused, waiting. “Well … will you…?”

Her acceptance was whispered against his parted lips and was sealed with a kiss that stirred their depths to fan the smoldering fires. At that moment Serena knew that their love would conquer any obstacle that might fall in the path of their happiness. With Tom by her side she would find the strength to convince even her mother of its rightness. Once she was Tom’s wife one
Sweet Serenity
would be more than enough to occupy any idle time he might leave her. And, when the time was right, her “new baby” would be a human one, with the promise of hazel eyes, good health and a smile that radiated from ear to ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growled, echoing her sentiments exactly. Totally wrapped up in each other, they headed home.

*   *   *

Her loose auburn waves brushed against his thigh as she made her way slowly over his body, savoring the taste of his flesh, exploring every last inch.

“Serena … Serena!” Reaching down Tom grasped her upper arms and hauled her abruptly along his length until she lay on top of him, eye to eye. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked half in fun, half in frustration. In truth he was driven nearly as wild now by the crush of her full breasts as he’d been by the sweet torment of her lips.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she announced pertly.

“You’ve
what?
”

“Changed my mind.”

Her smile and the sensuous way she slithered over him precluded true alarm. “About what?”

“You. You’re no Apricot Brandy Cordial.” She touched the tip of her tongue to his lips, then traced their manly line.

“Then what
am
I?” he murmured with the mingling of their breath.

She sighed happily. “A pure chocolate heart. Solid. Rich. Sweet. And endless.”

Like our love
, she thought, and nibbled some more.

Read on for an excerpt from Barbara Delinsky’s upcoming book

sweet salt air

Coming in Summer 2013 in hardcover from St. Martin’s Press

Leo Cole was doing something different. The sound Charlotte heard as she approached was a sporadic clattering, like he was hurling something against metal. She couldn’t tell what it was until she rounded the Cole curve and saw the floodlit slope of his roof. Two ladders stood there; near the top, a board stretched between them. Boots on the board, Leo was prying up shingles, tossing one after another into the Dumpster below.

She looked for the dog, didn’t see it, walked slowly forward. When she was close enough, she linked her hands behind her and watched for a while. Oh yeah, she had told him that his shingles were lifting. Watching him, though, she guessed he had known it. The way he went at the task spoke of experience. His movements were methodical and sure. From time to time, he grunted with the effort of removing a stubborn piece, but for the most part, he seemed untaxed.

In time, he stopped, pushed a forearm up his brow, hitched the claw tool to the next shingle in line, and reached for a bottle of water. That was when he spotted Charlotte, though if she hadn’t been looking closely, she wouldn’t have known. He didn’t jump, didn’t even fully turn, simply looked sideways as he drank. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.