Page 46 of A Treasure Worth Seeking

He grinned that open, friendly, teasing smile that was so rare, but so captivating. “Not a chance. Besides, I know a couple of places that could stand some plumping out.” His eyes dropped meaningfully to her breasts.

“I—” she opened her mouth to rebuke his audacity, but the back door swung open and his men trooped in. She recognized only Mike and Clark, but there were three others. She was certain they had seen her and knew that they had overheard her conversation with Bart. She blushed as Lance introduced them.

They were all uptight, overly polite, and far too quiet. Erin finally figured out that their obsequious manner was in deference to her. There had been a funeral today and each of them was all too aware of the circumstances. For her own sake as well as theirs, she set about to alleviate the gloom.

She began asking them polite questions and before long they were responding to her openly without first darting a permission-seeking look at Lance. Then they began to contribute to the dialogue, and by the time they left, there had even been some spontaneous laughter.

Erin gathered up the used paper plates and disposable utensils and stuffed them in a plastic trash bag. Lance insisted on helping her wash out the containers of food. After his crew was finished, not too much had been wasted.

“I guess I’ll have to take these dishes over to the neighbor in the morning. She can return them to their owners.”

“I guess so,” Erin said as she wiped off the counter top with a damp sponge. She didn’t want to ask, but had to. “When will you be leaving?”

Lance didn’t answer for a while. He was inordinately busy twisting a tie around the top of the garbage bag and placing it near the back door to be taken out in the morning. “We’re shaking down all our stuff tonight. I have a few loose ends to tie up. If not tomorrow, probably the next day. You?”

Erin looked away. She took off the apron she had put around her waist and hung it on a peg in the pantry. “I don’t know. I was planning to stay a few days with Melanie, but now…” Her voice trailed off to nothing.

When she turned around, he was standing close to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged the tense cords of her neck. “You’re exhausted,” he whispered solicitously. “I’ve got to gather up some papers in the living room. I’ll lock up when I leave. You go on upstairs.”

It was a dismissal. She hadn’t really known what to expect from him, but she thought it would have been more than a good night one would have given a kid sister.

Just as she reached the door going into the hallway, he said, “Erin?” Her heart thudded with joy, and she whirled around to face him. He wasn’t even looking at her. Instead he was staring out the window. “Yes?” Lance, turn around! her heart screamed.

“If you need anything during the night, pick up the red telephone. We won’t disconnect it until the morning.”

That was it? That was all he had to say?

“Okay,” she responded despondently and trudged up the stairs.

She got ready for bed mechanically, taking no interest in what she was doing. When she climbed between the sheets, the bed, the room, the house felt as cold and empty as her heart.

It all makes sense, Erin, she chided herself. After all, what had she expected? He was on a job. Tomorrow that job would be completed. He would go back to Washington and await his next assignment. Erin O’Shea would probably be mentioned in the dossier he would turn in, and sometimes in the future he might fondly recall her, but he would soon forget their shared passion. His memory of her face would wane.

He had found her mildly amusing during a difficult case. She provided a diversion from the pressures that went with his job.

But how could he dismiss her so summarily? Didn’t he even remember what had happened in this room? This bed? The very walls of the small room seemed to echo the garbled, frantic words he had rasped in her ear. To her they had sounded like a love song.

Foolish! Stupid!

she berated herself.

Yet she could still hear him. “Oh, sweet… You’re ready… Perfect, perfect… You feel… Erin, I’ll wait… Erin… Erin… Erin…”

* * *

It was very late when she woke up, probably after midnight. The house was still and quiet, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. After straightening the covers, using the bathroom, and tossing her head on the pillow for a few restless minutes, she decided that she needed a drink of cold water.

Getting out of bed once again, she slipped on a robe, but didn’t bother with slippers. Without turning on any lights, she crept down the stairs. At the bottom, she gasped.

The house was on fire!

For a panic-stricken moment, her hand clasped the top of her robe at her throat. Her heart was racing. But as the seconds ticked by, she realized that she was wrong. She didn’t smell any smoke and the fire was localized in the paneled study.

On trembling knees, she walked down the dark hallway and looked in the room. There were no lights on, but a fire was burning brightly in the grate of the fireplace, unused until now.

Puzzled, she stepped across the threshold and then came to an abrupt halt. Lance was sprawled in the chair he had slept in once before. An empty glass was held in his dangling hand. A bottle of brandy was on the table at his elbow.

Cautiously she moved farther into the room. He was sleeping soundly. She smiled tenderly to see his eyeglasses resting on the top of his head. His tousled hair shone golden in the firelight.

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