Dashing Through the Snow (11 page)

She swallowed hard. “
Oui
,” she
whispered and nodded.
“Je sais.”

When she looked away again and licked her
lips, Smith balled his hands into fists in his pockets and locked
his knees to keep from going to her. She looked so vulnerable right
then that the primitive in him wanted to both protect and conquer
her. But he knew he couldn’t, and keeping his revelation about
marriage in mind, tried to ease the sexual tension he felt zinging
throughout the room. “Well, our mothers would be proud that all
those French lessons they forced us to take with Madame Le Farge
weren’t a total waste.”

Lily winced, but chuckled. “Every freaking
Monday and Wednesday: God, I hated it!”

“Same here, but Mom and Aunt Glenda were
bound and determined that we become fluent in a second
language.”

“I know. I imagine if there had been someone
in town from India offering language courses, then we’d both know
how to speak Punjabi or Urdu or something.”

Smith nodded. “Maybe even Gujarati.”

She looked at him in confusion. “Gu – what?”
And with suspicion, “Is that another word like ‘paganistic’? Are
you making shit up again?”

Genuinely amused now, Smith threw his head
back and laughed. “No, I’m not. Gujarati is a language spoken in
India.” He turned to walk out of the living room and to the closet
for his coat. Hearing her following him, he said, “The people of
the Indian state of Gujarat speak Gujarati. And don’t ask me how I
know that, because I couldn’t tell you.” He put his coat on and
turned around. She had her side flush against the wall and her arms
folded. There was a slight smile on her face that made him smile in
return.

“Are we good, Lil?”

“Yes, I think so. Now that I know what a
warped sense of duty you had, I can see where there might be some
confusion. But it wasn’t your leaving that hurt the most, Smith –
though that did hurt. It was your leaving without saying goodbye
and then staying away. I didn’t understand.”

“I know.” The words came out on a regretful
sigh and he took her in his arms. “I’m really sorry and if there
was some way I could make it up to you, I would,” he said into her
hair. He smiled when she wrapped her arms around his waist. “If
there was a way to go back and change my behavior, I would.”

Lily chortled and snuggled closer. “Too bad
you can’t change everything with a mulligan. Can you imagine? You
screw up and then go back and change things just by saying, ‘Uh,
excuse me. I’d like a do-over, please.’”

Smith tightened his arms around her “It’s
good to be back, Lily-bud,
my
Lily-bud.”

She chuckled and stepped out of his arms, but
kept her hands at his waist as she looked up at him. “Welcome back,
cowboy. I’m glad you’re here.”

The laughter in her eyes and the glow it
brought to her face were irresistible. “Thanks,” he said and gently
grasping her chin; leaned down and placed his mouth on hers. He
felt her stiffen at first, and slid his lips against hers several
times before licking around the rim of her mouth. Slowly, he
slipped his tongue inside her mouth and moaned when she tentatively
slid her own tongue against it. He sucked her tongue into his mouth
and felt her hands grip his waist tighter. When she stood on her
toes and he felt her nipples press into his chest, he knew he was
in too deep. But still, he continued, enjoying the taste of her far
too much to stop.

Finally, but still taking his time, he drank
at the moisture of her mouth and then slowly pulled from the kiss.
Panting now, he pressed his lips to her forehead, determined not to
look at her for fear he’d see the same desire he felt in her eyes.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away from her if he did. “Good
night, sweetness. Lock your door.”

Chapter Ten

Lily sat at her desk early Tuesday morning
humming tunelessly as she made a list to plot out her day. She was
feeling happy and had a sense that something big and wonderful was
going to happen soon. Part of the feeling, she knew, had something
to do with the kiss she had shared with Smith. But she cautioned
herself not to put too much stock in that. After all, the man had
admitted to not only being scared of a relationship with her, but
of feeling guilty for having slept with her. “So what the hell was
that kiss for then?” she asked herself for what must have been at
least the hundredth time.

She sighed. There were other things feeding
into her premonition, though. For one thing, she was positive she
would wrap up the Benson case that day, and had already emailed
Mrs. Benson requesting a late appointment. Her cousin had delivered
her car that morning and it looked as new as it had when she’d
bought it. Thinking of her car made her think of the renegade
Santa, and she frowned and rubbed the spot where she’d been hit on
Sunday. There was a bruise there that she hadn’t discovered until
that morning when she’d backed up against the dresser. “I wonder
what his problem is.”

Her thoughts inevitably circled back to
Smith. When he’d told her that the night they’d spent together all
those years ago had been incredible, her thighs had gone slack, and
she’d had to agree. It had been, and she wouldn’t have minded a
repeat of it. Whistling, Lily wondered how she could manage to make
that happen without him feeling any guilt and without her family
finding out. It would be hard to conduct a fling with everyone in
her business. “I’d settle for a weekend of just him, me and a bed,”
she whispered as she thought about how wonderful it had felt to
press against him. “Just the one weekend to get him out of my
system: an uninterrupted, skin on skin weekend.”

Lily almost moaned aloud as she remembered
how she’d gone from feeling bold to shy in a matter of seconds
Sunday night. Smith’s gaze had been so intense and so full of
longing as he’d looked at her that it had made her feel vulnerable
and nervous, but all in a good way. “The man’s got a talent for it,
that’s for sure,” she murmured.

She heard the outer door open and close and
then a few footsteps as they walked toward her office. The
footsteps were slow and a bit heavy, but not as heavy as Quincy’s.
She stood. “Hello?”

She was surprised when Mrs. Benson appeared
in her doorway. “Mrs. Benson! What are you doing here?” Lily’s eyes
went to her desk clock. It was 7:30. “I just sent you an email
about fifteen minutes ago.”

Mrs. Benson hesitated before stepping inside.
Lily didn’t know if she realized she was twisting the strap of her
purse in her hands. She’s going to ruin that leather, she thought
with a wince and then looked up when Mrs. Benson spoke. “You did?
Send me an email, I mean? Does that mean you’ve got news for me?”
She walked into the office and gripped the back of one of the
chairs facing Lily’s desk.

Lily felt sympathy at the quiver she heard in
the other woman’s voice and came around her desk to take her arm.
“Here, sit down,” Lily suggested and gently pushed her into a
chair. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Benson?” she asked.

“No,” Mrs. Benson said as she pulled her coat
around her knees. “I’m fine and I’m sorry for barging in like this,
but I have an appointment a block from here at eight and I thought
it would be convenient if I stopped by here first. I didn’t know if
you’d be in, of course, but it was worth trying. I just wanted to
check and see if you’d made any progress on my case.”

“Oh, I see,” Lily said and walked around her
desk to take her own seat. Mrs. Benson’s folder was on her desk.
She’d already made copies for her own files and had saved the
originals for her client. Her hand hovered over the folder. The
thrill she had gotten days before at having her first case had long
since diminished. She felt like she was helping to break up a
marriage, and she didn’t want to think about how dirty she’d felt
following Mr. Benson around and bearing witness to his
infidelity.

The folder was thin, having only photos and
the short report she’d typed up detailing the events of the night.
In the folder, she’d included her time log and the places they’d
gone. She’d debated about putting a list of the names of the people
who lived in the apartment complex, and in the end had decided
against it since most of the people in the building had nothing to
do with the case and were entitled to their privacy.

Her plan had been to go back out to the
complex that morning and sit there until the redhead came out.
She’d hoped to follow her and find out who she was that way. It was
exactly what she’d done the day before, but the woman hadn’t left
the building once. Lily had figured that she’d already missed her,
the woman hadn’t spent the night at home or she was at home for the
day.

She lifted the folder and passed it over to
Mrs. Benson. All she could think to say when Mrs. Benson took the
folder was, “I’m sorry. Would you like some time alone?”

“What?” Mrs. Benson had eyes only for the
folder. “No, no. That’s not necessary.”

Feeling both prickly and antsy, Lily
nervously started straightening things on her desk. “Uh…I don’t
have a name for the woman in the pictures yet, but I’d hoped to
find it out today.” She looked up, startled, when Mrs. Benson
started laughing.

“Oh, this is priceless!” she said with tears
streaming down his face. “The little fucker is cheating on me with
his brother’s step daughter. And guess how old she is! Twenty,
that’s it, she’s all of twenty years old. I’m going to nail him to
the wall with these photos. He won’t be so against the divorce
now!” She finally seemed to notice that Lily wasn’t as cheerful as
she. “Oh, I can see that you’re uncomfortable with this. Well,
don’t be. This divorce was a long time coming. My husband’s been
fighting it.”

“I see,” was all Lily could think to say.

“You know,” Mrs. Benson said as she began
stuffing the photographs back into the folder, “I wasn’t too sure
that you were the right person to come to -- I mean, you being so
new and all.” She gave Lily an apologetic glance.

“It’s okay. I understand.”

Mrs. Benson stood. “Well, I can see that even
with your lack of experience, you do appear to be diligent, if
nothing else. I have a friend who needs some work done and I told
her I’d let her know how my experience with you turned out.”

Surprised and pleased, Lily smiled. “Really?
Thank you.”

Mrs. Benson waved her hand dismissively.
“Don’t thank me yet. She knew I was coming here today, but she’s
still concerned about your inexperience. Her case is nothing like
mine. Her husband is missing, and the police have been no help.
They think he’s just left her.”

“Okay,” Lily said in a tone that encouraged
her to continue.

“Well, as I was saying, my friend is worried
about you being so new at this, so she’s decided to reach out to a
more experienced detective. Don’t worry,” she said when Lily looked
crestfallen. “She’s willing to talk to you based on my
recommendation. This is her information,” she said and put a piece
of paper on Lily’s desk. “It’s early yet, so wait about an hour and
call her.”

“Thank you!” Lily said and picked up the
paper.

“Don’t worry about it.” Mrs. Benson was
walking toward the door.

“Uh, you’ll get my final bill later today,”
Lily called after tearing her eyes away from the paper.

***

Lily stood in the library of the Robinson
Mansion, still a little bit amazed that she was there. She’d done
as Mrs. Benson had suggested and waited some time before calling
her potential client. The Robinson mansion was located on the south
side of town – the wealthiest area. The mansion itself was famous
for having been built off the proceeds of bootlegged liquor during
Prohibition. A poor boy from the streets of Chicago, Lyle Robinson
had moved to Sheffield-Chatham and made his fortune. When it came
to his home, he’d wanted big and he’d wanted fancy. The result was
Robinson Mansion, the largest and most ostentatious home in three
counties. He’d lost it all a few years later and the house had been
empty for decades. It had been bought in the mid-sixties by a
manufacturer and his family, but had gone empty again in the early
nineties when the manufacturer took all of his business to
Mexico.

The current residents, Mr. and Mrs. Landry
were new to Sheffield-Chatham, having only arrived in early 2001.
Not much was known about them except that they were from Chicago,
and the husband was the son of a prominent Chicago family whose
wealth had come from hotels. Lily knew that the rumor was that
they’d chosen Sheffield-Chatham to retire to, which made her shake
her head. She loved her town, but knew if she were rich; the last
place she’d retire to would be one whose average temperature in
winter was twenty-two degrees.

“I’d be in the South of France so fast,” she
mumbled as she spun around slowly to look at the room. It was a
small room with a few dozen books and a couple of small sofas.
Judging from the dust, it wasn’t used all that often. She looked at
her watch. Her appointment was supposed to have started ten minutes
before. She frowned. “I hope she hasn’t changed her mind.” Her
biggest fear was that Mrs. Landry had decided to go with the other
detective after all.

She took a sip of the bottled water a maid
had provided and sat on one of the sofas. “Guess I’ll find out
eventually.”

Lily heard footsteps approaching and looked
up. One of the most stunning women she’d ever seen entered the
room. Of average height, the woman she assumed to be her client had
almost perfectly aligned features. Her russet colored hair
contrasted well with deep green eyes. She moved fluidly and
unhurriedly into the room in an outfit that almost had Lily sighing
aloud with envy. She recognized Escada, something she could never
really justify purchasing. She’d recently salivated over the
ruffled white blouse the woman wore. It retailed for a mere six
hundred and fifty dollars.