Restore My Heart (30 page)

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’re staring at me. Do I have tea leaves on my chin?”

“No.” He chuckled. “I was admiring, not staring.”

The waitress spared him further explanation. After ordering coffee, he said, “I saw your father outside.”

Sally’s smile broadened. “He’s playing bodyguard.”

“Really?” About damn time.

“I brought him with me. He didn’t want me out by myself, after all that’s been going on.”

“He’s protective, Sally, because he loves you.”

“I want to believe that.”

Did she really see herself as unlovable? He’d like to think Justin Clay had come to his senses. Sally snatched each crumb of encouragement he dropped, like a starved puppy. Whatever their history, Sally and Justin needed to connect while they had the chance.

“What’s this?” Sally slid a large envelope from Joe’s hand.

“Mom asked me to go through Dad’s desk at home. I found that.”

Sally slipped the papers from the envelope. “It’s a report from an investigator.”

“Yeah, on a guy named Duane Anderson. Take a look.”

“I wish he’d attached a photo.” Sally read through the two page report. “There’s a juvenile offense—no details available—and an arrest for grand theft: auto. I guess the first arrest record is sealed.”

“Read on. Dad hired a thorough P.I.”

Sally turned the page. “Ah. The plot thickens.”

“You understand what all that means?”

“I understand his juvenile arrest. He was working in a chop shop.”

Joe shook his head. “A chop shop?”

Sally pursed her lips. “Think of it as a corporate raid, only illegal. Stolen vehicles are broken down into parts which are then sold off.”

“I see.” Where had she learned about corporate raids? Sally claimed to have little higher education, but she certainly had a keen mind. “Now all we need to do is find out why Dad needed this Duane Anderson investigated.”

“I guess you’ve asked your mom.”

Joe nodded. “She didn’t know, but she plans to search the files tomorrow when she goes into the office.”

“I think you should call this detective.”

“Good idea.”

“Whoever Duane Anderson is, he’s a car thief. Maybe it’s connected to the Darrin.”

He sighed. “But the Darrin wasn’t stolen. It was just faked.”

“Do we know it wasn’t stolen? A serious collector needing an engine for a Kaiser Darrin would pay through the nose for one. Our Duane Anderson could run a stolen Darrin through his chop shop, sell the engine to the collector and the body to, say, Dan Alsop.”

“Couldn’t the serial number on the stolen engine be traced?”

“On recent model cars, yes. But remember how easy it is to press out a metal engine number plate, like the one on the Darrin?” She raised her eyebrows. “Dan Alsop has what’s needed for the job.”

“You’re one smart lady.”

“Um, thank you.”

“You’re also honest, a pleasant change from a lot of women I know.”

Sally shrugged, averting her eyes, her attention drawn back to the report’s manila envelope. Rummaging through the inside, she pulled out a yellow sticky note. “This must’ve fallen off the report.”

Reaching across the table, he grasped her wrist. “I embarrassed you. Well, get used to it. I intend to pay you a lot of compliments.”

She looked up, widening her eyes. “You do?”

He smoothed his thumb along the softness of her flesh. “You have me thinking crazy thoughts, Sally, thoughts about changing my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like where I live and work. Don’t misunderstand. I’m in no position to leave my job. Louisville is a lot smaller than Atlanta. But Atlanta isn’t so far away. I could telecommute some of the time.”

“You’re talking about spending more time up here with your family.”

“I’m talking about spending more time with you.”

“As a
friend.”

“After Friday night, I think we’re beyond
friends
.”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “That was Friday night. Consenting adults, remember?”

“I know. I have no right to romance you when my life is so unsettled. But I’m putting you on notice, woman. I can’t seem to get you out of my mind. When things settle down, I’ll be back.”

“Joe, don’t kid me or yourself. You belong in the world of business and finance. I belong in a greasy garage. It’d never work. Friday night was—well, one night.” Straightening in the chair, she pulled her arm free.

“Now I’m insulted.” He grinned. “You think I’m a snob?”

“Of course not! We’re just worlds apart.” She glanced at the Post-it still clinging to her finger. “Look!”

Joe peeled the note from Sally’s outstretched hand.
Dan Alsop = Duane Anderson?
“I read somewhere that people often pick an alias with the same initials.”

“So Dan Alsop is a crook. Could he be your dad’s killer, too?”

“I don’t know. But first thing tomorrow I’m taking this to the detective in charge of Dad’s case. Maybe he’ll reopen the investigation.”

Sally leaned into Joe as he walked her to the escalator. She really shouldn’t. He’d be gone soon, despite what he’d said, and she’d have to walk unassisted. Still, she indulged herself, taking in the woodsy scent of his aftershave, the warmth of his touch, that zing of sexual attraction now stronger than ever.

Joe’s talk of a future tempted her. In a perfect world, she’d like nothing better than to be Mrs. Joseph Desalvo and have a family. But Sally’s world wasn’t perfect. She’d never measure up to Joe, no matter what he said.

“Isn’t that Roy Bishop’s wife?” Joe pointed toward Janet Bishop, who hurried past with a shopping bag decorated in storks.

“Janet, wait.” Sally reached out and grabbed the woman’s arm. “I wanted to talk to you. I’m so sorry about Roy.”

Janet shrugged off Sally’s hand, her face twisted. “You should be, you bitch.”

“W-what?” Stunned, Sally’s heart thundered against her ribs, her skin burned.

“It’s your fault Roy’s dead.”

Sally recoiled. Over and over in her mind she’d blamed herself for Roy’s murder. But hearing it from Janet only intensified her guilt.

“Now, see here, ma’am—”Joe began, but Janet cut him off.

“Sally knows what I’m talking about.” Janet pinned her with a glare. “If you hadn’t gone running to the Feds, none of this would’ve happened. You put Roy in danger just so you could play Dudley Do-right.”

Sally swallowed, unable to meet Joe’s puzzled gaze. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Janet.”

“Roy
told
me, Sally, Sunday before he left. The arson worried him plenty. I wish to hell it’d worried him enough to keep him home.”

“Surely you can’t blame Sally—”

“Don’t tell me I can’t blame her.”

“Janet, no!” A wave of dizziness crashed over Sally.

“Tell him, Sally. Tell your boyfriend how you’ve been spying on Bloom Desalvo Motors for the FBI.” Janet spun away, her angry steps echoing against the tiled floor.

Joe stared after the woman, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He turned to face Sally, narrowing his eyes. “What’s she talking about?”

“Joe, I can explain—”

“The FBI is investigating Bloom Desalvo Motors? How long have you known about that?” Dropping his hand from her elbow, Joe stepped back.

Sally flinched at his sharp tone. The moment she’d dreaded had arrived with a vengeance. If only she’d told him. If only he’d heard it first from her own lips. He’d never forgive her deceit.

“I called them the day Roy and I discovered the Darrin’s engine was a forgery.”

“And you fed information back to the FBI?”

She nodded, forcing herself to meet his damning gaze.

“You didn’t think I should know?”

“I had no choice. Special Agent Ferguson said I wasn’t to discuss it with anyone except my mechanic.” Guilt twisted her insides. She’d also told Uncle Sal, but didn’t think it was a good time to confess everything. “Roy had verified the discrepancy in the engine and knew about the FBI’s information bulletin, so I couldn’t leave him in the dark.”

“But you could me.”

“I never suspected you were involved in the fraud, Joe. I told Ferguson that from the start.”

“What else did you tell him? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I shared everything with you, every suspicion, every discovery. My family’s skeletons. The feds must be pleased with your work.”

“I told him only what I had to. Please believe me.”

“Tell me one thing. Was offering me sex part of your undercover work?” His laugh was forced, lacking humor.

“That’s a low blow.”

“No pun intended.”

Her eyes burned with angry tears. Hurt tears. Joe had never shown her this side of his temper. The man she loved had destroyed her in one sarcastic sweep. She lowered her head and battled against tears. She wouldn’t cry. She
wouldn’t
.

“I guess you’re right. We are worlds apart.” Joe’s voice grew deadly quiet. “I trusted you.”

Hurt warred with anger and pride. “So did Special Agent Ferguson. I don’t violate confidences, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s a real comfort.”

Her vision blurred, she blinked furiously. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she saw only his back as he stormed from the mall.

Joe hung up the phone. It was done. After talking to Paul, he’d made arrangements to catch the early morning flight on Friday in time to make the weekly staff meeting. He’d get his car next trip, when he returned to watch Nina compete in the mini-marathon. Atlanta would be a welcome respite from the emotional wringer of the past few weeks.

A glint of light on the floor caught his eye. Leaning over, he scooped up one of the cufflinks from his shirt. Memories of Sally in his bed crashed down on him. Her eagerness to remove his shirt, tossing the cufflinks aside. Her hot, luscious mouth over him everywhere, taking him where no woman ever had. Her unbridled passion and generosity. She couldn’t have faked all that, could she?

Their confrontation at the mall lingered, a bitter aftertaste. He’d never trusted the women he’d dated. They were all colleagues with their own agendas. Imagine thinking Sally differed from those sophisticated women in the world of finance. She’d had her own agenda, too, but a more duplicitous one. And he’d imagined himself in love with her. Ha!

He’d allowed her to penetrate his careful life. Now her betrayal stung. She’d played him for the fool, and he cooperated perfectly. Worried about her vulnerability, he’d sorely underestimated his own.

Until Friday, he’d avoid her. They had no further business together. The FBI would take over and nail Vic Bloom and Dan Alsop. Then Barbara and his mother could decide what to do with Bloom Desalvo Motors. He wanted nothing more to do with any of it. The cutthroat world of financial management didn’t look so cutthroat after all.

He gathered his dirty clothes to take to the laundry room inside the main house, trying not to think about Sally. He’d aired enough of his dirty laundry to her. Instead of smiling at his play on words, he grimaced, remembering the stricken look on Sally’s face after his last
no pun intended
. No! He had to banish her from his thoughts.

Although he hadn’t found convincing evidence that his father’s death had been murder, he’d done enough to cast doubt. The officer he’d spoken to earlier that morning agreed to take another look at the evidence in Leo Desalvo’s death. It was a start. That’s all he could do here in Louisville. While his clothes washed, he’d review his list of potential clients and start lining up appointments for next week.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Kennedy.” Sally followed Ellen Kennedy through the foyer and kitchen to the den. Tall windows faced the fairway of the golf course, offering Sally a view of a perfectly manicured green.

“Call me Ellen. You said it was personal. I’ll admit to being part curious and part lonely. I enjoy the company, frankly.”

Sally wasn’t sure how to respond, so she said nothing while Ellen moved to a silver coffee service on the glass top cocktail table. “I made coffee. Help yourself to cream and sugar.”

“Thank you, Ellen.” Sally couldn’t resist the cream—real, not a non-dairy whitener.