Liam cleared his throat. “Maybe she was—”

“And what did it do to her father? And who the hell knew she was ever married? I mean, married? What kind of mom just sort of forgets to mention that little detail to her daughters, even if they are adopted?”

Liam waited patiently. People were starting to peek. She was making a scene. She hunched down over her coffee cup. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Flipping out on you in public. The breakfast date from hell.”

“You’re a great breakfast date,” Liam said. “We’re talking constant entertainment. I’m in no danger of boredom when I hang out with you. It’s just one humdinger after another. I can’t wait for the car chase.”

She exploded in shaky, snorting giggles that splattered coffee over the table, and to her horror, over her blouse as well. But when she peeked up from sponging her collar, he looked pleased with himself.

“You know what freaks me out the most?” She tried to keep her voice down. “It’s the responsibility”. I have nothing to help the cops. Just hints about a secret, and some mysterious, sinister ‘thing’ that I’ve never heard of. I don’t know what or where it is, just that somebody appears to want it. And that somebody might have…might have killed my mother.”

There it was. She let out a long, shaky breath. She’d said the unsayable, and Liam just accepted her words calmly, without reacting to them or negating them. She hid her face with hands that shook. “If somebody hurt Lucia, I have to do something about it. I can’t just lie down, let it go. But what? And to whom?”

He was quiet for a long time before he spoke again. “What’s with the necklaces?” he asked. “Do you know what she’s referring to?”

Nancy held up the pendant that glittered at her throat. “I assume she’s referring to these. They came the day before yesterday. Special hand delivery from the jeweler’s shop. Evidently she’d commissioned them for us before she…before it happened. Mine’s an N, for Nancy. Nell has an A, for Antonella, and Vivi has a V, of course.”

He leaned forward, peering at the pendant, and she unclasped it and handed it to him. He examined it from every angle and passed it back to her. “Very pretty,” he commented.

“Thank you,” she said, reclasping it. “That’s what I thought. It’s just pretty. No mysterious keys that I can see. And it was probably expensive, but not outrageously so. Several hundred dollars, maybe.”

He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table. “It might be worth a try to talk to the jeweler,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes. I most certainly will. Today.”

“I’ll take you,” he said.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” she said quickly. “I have my car, and you must have all kinds of things to do, so—”

“Nope. Nothing. I was going to work on Lucia’s house today. I can’t, so I’m just kicking my heels. And I wouldn’t miss it. So really. Don’t fight me on this. Trust me. You’ll lose.”

Whew. There it was, a naked challenge. Right out there in the open. She blinked as she looked at his set jaw, his narrowed eyes. Ahem. There he was, Mr. Alpha Dog. Woof. This was the part in the script where she crisply gave him to understand that he was not the boss here, and that he was not dealing with a fluttery pushover, and that her decisions were entirely her own, thank you very much. Buh-bye.

The words just didn’t come out. A strangled silence took their place. Having company today would be so very nice. Having big, tough, hard-muscled, keen-eyed protective company would be even better.

So. Maybe…just maybe she would let him have this one. A chunk of meat for a hungry wolf. Just this once, mind. Never again.

“Um. Let’s…let’s talk about something else,” she said.

He lifted his teacup, eyes smiling at her over the rim. Pleased with himself. “Whatever you like,” he said magnanimously. “Be my guest.”

His expression made her squirm on the plastic cushion.

“So what do we talk about, then?” she demanded.

His lips twitched. “Anything you like. You were the one who wanted to change the subject. I was fine with the subject.”

“Don’t start with me,” she warned.

“I’m not,” he said. “Try to relax.” He reached out, pausing as she flinched, and touched her forehead with the tip of his finger, massaging the anxious crease between her brows as if trying to erase it.

“Oh, that. That’s always there. That’s just part of my face,” she said with a shaky laugh. His boldness made her feel…naked.

Weird. She hadn’t known there was a good side to that feeling.

“So, Liam,” she said briskly. “Tell me about yourself. Lucia told you all about me, and that puts me at a disadvantage.”

His smile vanished. She felt a flash of regret for killing the moment. She hardened herself. She had to be tough, and careful.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Whatever is relevant. You’re not married, engaged, or seriously involved. Lucia wouldn’t have thrown me at your head if you were.”

“True enough,” he agreed.

“So what’s wrong with you?” she demanded.

“What do you mean?” He looked mildly curious, not annoyed.

Nancy shrugged. “You’d think a guy like you would’ve been taken by now. You must be, what, thirty-seven? Thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-seven,” he said.

“Thirty-seven,” she repeated, in a wondering tone. “How have you escaped the noose for so long?”

“I don’t see it as a noose. But I haven’t met the ideal woman yet.”

Her cell phone rang as the waitress arrived with their food. The manager of the venue in Indianapolis where Peter was performing in three weeks, calling to postpone the date. Nancy made a note and promised to get back to him as soon as she had checked the artist’s availability. She hung up and gave Liam a thin smile. “So, back to this ideal woman of yours. What’s she like?”

“You really want to know?”

“Hell, yes,” she assured him. “I’m fascinated. I’m all agog.”

Liam swallowed a mouthful of omelet and washed it down with tea. “Okay,” he said. “My ideal woman is a great cook. She likes to bake bread. She wants lots of children. Would consider being a stay-at-home mom. She’s relaxed. Likes flowers. Loves to hike and garden.”

Nancy’s heart sank. Cut it out, loser. She had no designs on the guy, so why should it matter if she was the opposite of his ideal woman? She couldn’t tell a pumpkin from a hollyhock. Lots of children? What a concept. Although she hadn’t completely given up hopes of maybe at least one, someday. And cooking? Bread? Hah.

Liam went relentlessly on. “She puts home and family first. She’s content with simplicity. She’s sincere, and genuine.”

Nancy tried for a breezy tone. “I get her vibe. Earth mother. Dips her own candles. Makes her own soap. Carves her own toothpicks.”

His lips twitched. “Uh, that’s the general idea, I guess.”

She forced out a brittle laugh. “Well, good luck. I didn’t know they were even still making that brand of female. I bet you’d have more luck shopping for used and vintage models.” Her cell rang again. A presenter of a concert series in Portland, Oregon, wanted Mandrake’s promo packet. She took down his data in her organizer.

“You know, that thing has an off button,” Liam informed her.

Nancy gazed at him blankly. “What’s your point?”

He sighed. “Never mind. You haven’t touched your sandwich.”

Nancy looked down at her turkey club. “I’m not really hungry.”

Liam examined her face with a frown. “Try to calm down a little,” he said. “See if you can get down at least half of your sandwich.”

“I don’t want to argue about my sandwich. I want to know more about this ideal—”

“You’re not going to find out a damn thing worth knowing if you come at me with that attitude.”

She set down her coffee, taken aback. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended. I’m pissed off. There’s a difference.”