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“God, she has the most gorgeous legs.” Purring loudly, the squire brushed against her.

  Shifting the box, Molly tipped her chin at the feline. “Still as chatty as ever, I see.”

  “He won’t be a rascal like he was yesterday, though.” Lucian shot the squire a meaningful glare.

  “You know, I think yesterday was just one of those days for cats and mischief,” Molly said.

  Every day was a mischief day for Galahad. Indulging his curiosity, Lucian asked, “Why do you say that?”

  “One of my mother’s kitties ran outside last night when I put out the trash. She’s a housecat, and I spent a good half-hour in a panic, searching for her.”

  “I hope you found her?”

  “She wandered onto the front porch just before dark, perfectly fine and wanting a snack.”

  Could that have been the cat Galahad had spoken to last night? Possibly, but they’d seen several other felines during their drive around that neighborhood.

  “I’m glad she returned home safely,” Lucian said.

  “Thanks. So am I.”

  “That makes three of us,” Galahad meowed.

  Molly smiled. “You know, I could swear your cat is trying to take part in our conversation; like he’s responding to what we say.”

  Yep. Exactly right. “He’s been a talker ever since he was a kitten,” Lucian said with a wry chuckle. “I hope he won’t scare you away?”

  She laughed. “Nah.”

  Lucian liked the sound of her laughter. He ached to reach out and brush his fingertips down her cheek, to touch her. But, even as he acknowledged the longing, part of him shut it down. The events of the past few months had taught him he should avoid meaningful relationships. His gut had already warned him that if he got involved with Molly, their affair wouldn’t be a brief, casual fling.

  He’d end up hurting her. There was no alternative, when he couldn’t tell her about his work for The Experts. He didn’t want to have to keep secrets from her, or to see anguish and disappointment in her eyes when she asked for the truth and he couldn’t give it. For all of those reasons, he’d ignore his attraction to her and keep their interactions strictly businesslike.

  He gestured to the box. “What have you got for me today?”

  “A few vases and some costume jewelry.” She tilted her head. “I forgot to ask last time, but you do appraise vintage costume jewelry, right?”

  Either his imagination was teasing him, or her tone held a hint of flirtation.

  He forced himself to release the breath lodged in the center of his chest. He could well be misreading her. But, she did seem a little different today. More confident.

  Sexier.

  She was waiting for him to answer her question. What was it, again? Something about costume jewelry. “I must admit, jewelry isn’t my specialty,” he said. “I do, however, have plenty of contacts in the antique business.” If Julius and his underlings couldn’t help Lucian out, The Expert would know someone who could. “I can take pictures of what you’ve brought and send them on for an evaluation.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Good.” Now he sounded like a damned parrot. “May I take the box?”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  As she shifted it into his arms, he noticed perspiration glistening on her forehead and nose. Yesterday, she’d mentioned she had a hard time tolerating the high temperatures. Even early in the morning, as he’d discovered from his jogs along the beach, the heat and humidity were stifling. “How about a cold drink?” he asked. “Water?”

  Her expression softened with gratitude. “That would be wonderful. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Lucian set her box on the counter then walked to the storage room, took a bottle of spring water from the fridge, and headed back into the store, to find her dabbing her forehead with a tissue.

  “I’m sorry to be such a mess.” She laughed, the sound tinged with embarrassment. “I am just so hot.”

  “Don’t we all know it,” Galahad rumbled, sitting at her feet and gazing up at her.

  Lucian handed her the water. “I promise, you don’t look a mess.”

  “Liar.” When his eyes widened in surprise, she grinned. “I’m pretty sure I do.”

  Whoa. She’d definitely flirted that time.

  As Lucian mulled how to respond, Molly twisted off the cap of her bottle, tipped up her chin, and took a long drink. Lucian tried not to stare at her mouth, pressed to the top of the bottle. Her slender throat moved with a swallow, drawing his attention down to her cleavage—

  Refocus, idiot. Now.

  Lucian turned on his heel, went to the desk, and pulled over the box she’d brought.

  Molly sighed. “The water was just what I needed.”

  “I’m glad.” Would she sigh like that after she’d been kissed? Frowning, he pulled an item out of the box and noisily crinkled the paper while he unwrapped it. Still, he couldn’t help imagining his mouth settling over hers, the warmth and softness of her lips—

  “Is it okay if I sit here?” She pointed to an Edwardian chair his grandfather had gotten back from the restorer last week. “If it’s not okay, I will completely understand.”

  “It’s fine. A chair is a chair,” Lucian added, “and meant for sitting.”

  “Yes, but not all chairs are refinished antiques.” Even as he registered her coy tone, she sat, leaned back against the upholstery, and crossed one shapely leg over the other.

  The throne-like chair suited her. She could have just been crowned Queen of Cat’s Paw Cove.

  She brushed her hand over the velvet-covered seat. “The chair’s comfortable. An oldie, but a goodie.”

  “Just like you, Lucian,” Galahad piped up.

  After scowling at the cat, Lucian looked back at Molly. Determined to keep the conversation business-related, he asked: “So, how are things going at your mother’s house?”

  “Fine.”

  “You made progress yesterday?”

  “Not really.” She sipped more water then grimaced. “I ended up with two bags of trash, but there’s still a lot to sort through. I’m afraid of throwing out something important, so of course, I’m going through every box, drawer, and file.”

  He set down the glass vase he’d unwrapped. “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job. And, of course, my offer to come to the house and look at items still stands.” He pulled the protective paper from another item: an etched bowl.

  “It’s strange,” she murmured.

  “Mmm?”

  “I thought I knew my mother. I mean, she was my mom. But, going through her things….”

  Lucian lifted out a lacquered box that rattled when he set it on the counter. It must hold the jewelry she’d mentioned. “You found a few surprises?”

  She nodded. “Quite a few, actually.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Why?” Her eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “You don’t write for the local paper, do you?”

  He chuckled. “No, but I’m definitely intrigued now. The Mrs. Hendrickson I remember was fairly…well, conservative.”

  “She was,” Molly said. Galahad had ambled over to the chair, and she leaned down to scratch his back. “I remember when I called and told her I was moving in with my boyfriend.”

  Just about to open the lacquered box, Lucian stilled. Dismay settled like a stone in his gut, but he should have known she would be taken.

  “Nooooooo! She can’t have a boyfriend,” the squire wailed.

  “Is Galahad okay?” Worry in her gaze, Molly added: “Did I pet him the wrong way?”

  “He probably wants you to scratch behind his ear,” Lucian said. “That’s his favorite.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Her fingers shifted to the feline’s right ear. “My boyfriend…. Well, actually, my fiancé, since we got engaged and almost married last fall.”

  Almost married. That meant—

  “Howard and I split up six weeks before our wedding date,” she quickly added. “Just in case
you were wondering, or curious, or…whatever.” Her cheeks turned pink.

  Lucian fought not to smile.

  “Anyhow, Mom went quiet on the line after I broke the news about moving in with him. Even though he and I had been together for more than a year, she obviously didn’t approve.” Molly moved her hand to scratch the back of Galahad’s neck. “I thought she was going to try and talk me out of it, to insist Howard and I should be married before we lived together, but instead, she said, ‘If that’s what you want to do.’ I think she knew he wasn’t right for me, but she chose to let me find out on my own.”

  “She probably realized you’d do whatever you wanted anyway, regardless of what she said.”

  “Yes. I was twenty-five, after all. I can be pretty stubborn.”

  According to his grandfather, so could Lucian.

  His attention once again on the lacquered box, Lucian opened the lid. Gold and silver-toned necklaces, beaded brooches, and rhinestone bracelets sparkled—

  The faintest chill skimmed his nape, as though someone had trailed the tip of an icicle across his skin: A warning of dark magic.

  His phone hadn’t sounded an alert, and the devices in the back room hadn’t gone off. As he’d realized in a split-second, the energy wasn’t very strong. Still….

  What wickedness had Molly brought him?

  “Anyhow, the secrets I mentioned? I discovered my mom was interested in genealogy. She’d been tracking down our ancestors….”

  Blocking out Molly’s voice, Lucian set his right hand, palm down, upon the glittering jewels. He shut his eyes, focused on the steady rhythm of his own breathing to clear his mind, and sank into the mental quietude that allowed him to tap into the magic connected to the jewelry.

  Multi-colored lights glimmered in his mind. He found vibrant imprints of good memories: dinner parties; bridal showers; lively meetings and afternoon teas. But skirting the edges of those happy remembrances was a wisp of darkness.

  Sharpening his focus, he sifted through the ephemeral layers of magic and memories. There. He mentally grabbed for the inkiness, but it eluded him. He pursued. As soon as his mind attempted to hone in again, the magic vanished and reappeared as a shadow behind another recollection.

  Frustration gnawed, and reluctantly, he began to surface from his trance. He wouldn’t catch the murkiness, no matter how hard he tried. The object possessing it wasn’t in the box of jewelry. The item hadn’t come into direct contact with the other baubles, either.

  What did hold the corrupt magic? Even more worrying: to leave such a resonance, the energy had to be highly potent—

  “Lucian,” Galahad urged.

  Lucian opened his eyes.

  Now standing in front of the Edwardian chair, Molly stared at him, her eyes wide. “What just happened? Are you all right?”

  While telling Lucian about her mother’s genealogy project, Molly had sensed he was only half-listening. She hadn’t wanted to bore him, so she’d stolen a quick glance, to gauge whether she should change the subject…and her words had unraveled in her throat.

  He stood very still. Too still. He wasn’t intently analyzing an item in front of him, but appeared frozen, as though he’d been paralyzed from head to toe. Or, as she’d seen in TV shows and movies she’d watched with Howard, caught in a spell.

  Not possible. Spells only existed in fictional worlds, not real life.

  Was Lucian having some kind of medical crisis?

  “Lucian,” she said, pushing Galahad aside and rising to her feet.

  Lucian didn’t blink, exhale, or otherwise stir to acknowledge he’d heard her. He remained at the counter, eyes closed, his features set in an expression of intense concentration.

  Could he be asleep? He might have an undiagnosed sleep disorder. Whatever was going on, she’d take a picture of him to show him once he was awake again. Then she’d call 911.

  She reached for her cell phone.

  Galahad yowled. She startled, because she hadn’t touched or stepped on the feline. Why, then, had he cried out?

  She glanced back at Lucian, and his eyelids flickered. A sound between a sigh and a growl broke from him.

  Oh, thank God.

  As Lucian’s gaze sharpened on her, a tremor raced through her. She’d never known a man with such a piercing stare.

  “What just happened? Are you all right?” How she wished her voice hadn’t wobbled.

  “I’m fine.” He didn’t look fine. His dark brows had knitted together in a frown, and she sensed his thoughts had been far from the appraisal of her items.

  Maybe he was too proud to admit he’d just experienced a health issue in front of her. Howard, too, had never wanted to be seen as vulnerable or weak. But, the last thing she wanted was for Lucian to collapse and get hurt while falling to the floor.

  Molly crossed to the counter. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

  The barest smile curved his lips. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You blanked out.”

  “I what?”

  “You….” Struggling to find the right words, she waved her hand. “You weren’t here for a while.”

  Amusement touched his expression. “Did I leave the store?”

  “Not physically, no. But mentally, yes.”

  Lucian glanced over at Galahad, who meowed again. “He says I seem fine to him.”

  Annoyance warred with her concern. “Don’t try and bring your poor cat into this conversation. He can’t tell you what happened. I know what I saw.”

  “Molly—”

  “I still think you should sit down, at least until we’re both sure you’re okay.”

  Lucian exhaled a deep breath. “Look, it’s sweet of you to be concerned—”

  “Maybe I should call 911 and ask what to do.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” She turned to get her phone.

  “No.”

  Howard had spoken to her that way before; the tone of a commander giving orders to his subordinates. Her spine stiffened.

  “Hey.” Regret softened Lucian’s voice.

  She glanced back at him, her jaw tight.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but I don’t need medical attention.”

  She crossed her arms. Why did she get the feeling a lot more was going on than he was telling her? “Explain to me what happened, then.”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek. “What you saw…. It’s part of my process when doing appraisals.”

  She drummed her fingers on her arm while considering his words. She shook her head. “I need more detail than that.”

  “Why? With respect, how I go about my work isn’t really your concern.”

  Refusing to back down, she held his gaze. “With respect, I don’t think you’ve been honest with me yet. I’d like the truth.”

  Galahad meowed several times, and Lucian’s attention shifted to the cat. Lucian brushed his thumb over his bearded chin, as though struggling with an inner debate, then said: “Very well. I didn’t ‘blank out,’ as you called it. I was….meditating.”

  “Meditating?” she echoed, unable to hold back disbelief.

  Lucian nodded once. “Meditation is an excellent way for me to focus my mind.”

  Had he told her the truth this time? She didn’t know much about appraising antiques. She didn’t know much about meditation, either, except what she’d read in women’s magazines. The articles had usually been accompanied by photos of people sitting cross-legged on the floor, not standing. “Why didn’t you tell me about the meditation before?”

  “It’s a little…personal.”

  “I would rather have been forewarned.” When he shook his head, she added, “Seeing you frozen like you’d been turned to stone was creepy.”

  Mirroring her defiant posture, he folded his arms. With the movement, hewn muscles rippled under his shirt, teasing her with imaginings of how he’d look bare-chested. Deliciously tempting thoughts, but she would not be distracted fro
m the discussion.

  “If I’d told you the truth earlier,” he said quietly, “would you have believed me?”

  Ha. Fair point. Even now, she wasn’t convinced what she’d seen was meditation.

  Lucian’s brows rose. “Well?”

  She shrugged. “I might have.”

  A rough laugh broke from him. “You don’t believe me now, do you? Even after I just divulged one of my deepest, darkest secrets.”

  “The fact that you meditate is a deep, dark secret?”

  His lips formed a roguish smile. “If other antique dealers heard about my process, everyone would start doing it. I’ll no longer be special.”

  She rolled her eyes and fought a smile. “Now you’re teasing me.”

  “Yep.” He chuckled, uncrossed his arms, and flattened his hands on hands on the counter. “Now that we’ve got that matter straightened out, I have a few questions about this jewelry.”

  He spoke mildly enough, but she sensed a note of concern in his voice.

  “Did you say these pieces belonged to your mother?”

  “Yes,” Molly said. “She inherited some of them from her mom.”

  “Is this all of the jewelry? Are there any other items?”

  She thought of the gold necklace she’d put in her suitcase. A warm glow rippled through her, swiftly followed by a pang of caution. She didn’t want to tell him about her wonderful find. There was no reason to, since she wasn’t going to sell it.

  “I kept a couple of pieces I liked. Why do you ask?”

  “Some of this jewelry looks like it belongs in sets.” He picked up a dangling pearl earring and a necklace with a similar pearl-drop pendant. “These, for example. Also, these.” He held up a sparkling bracelet and matching necklace. “I suspect there are earrings to match.”

  “The items I kept aren’t from either of those sets,” Molly said. “I didn’t finish going through my mother’s dresser yet. I might find the missing pieces you pointed out.”

  He nodded, but his expression hardened a fraction, as though she hadn’t told him what he’d wanted to hear. “Did you find any old boxes? Even empty ones?”

  I’m not telling you about the special one I found. “Boxes are important?”

  “Vintage jewelry is often worth more if it’s presented in its original box. More still if it belonged to someone famous and there’s proof of that ownership.”