Owen waited until he heard the shower stop in Amy’s room. He killed a few more minutes pacing his room and then strode to the connecting door. He knocked peremptorily.
“Come in, I’m decent,” Amy called.
That was unfortunate, Owen thought wistfully. He yanked open the door. “I want to talk to you.”
“Yes?” Amy met his gaze in the mirror. She was dressed in a pair of blue silk trousers and a matching silk tunic that turned her eyes into jewels.
For a few seconds Owen just stood there, transfixed by the sight of her putting a gold earring on one delicate ear. Desire swept through him, hot, unexpected, and laced with longing. Damn. This was getting bad, he thought. Very, very bad.
“Is something wrong?” Amy prompted.
Owen took refuge in righteous irritation. He braced one hand against the doorframe. “Mind telling me what happened in Crabshaw’s living room this afternoon?”
“What do you mean?” She finished attaching the earring and turned to face him. “We’re going to help Arthur. What’s so complicated about that?”
“Amy, you told me you wanted to prove he was concealing something. Okay, I proved it. Case closed.”
Her eyes widened. “For heaven’s sake, Owen, we can’t stop there. Bernice loves him, and this afternoon I finally concluded that he loves her. We have to help him.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that. What the hell made you decide that Arthur is a good guy after all?”
“Intuition. And the fact that he’s trying to play the gentleman for Madeline’s and Bernice’s sake.”
“The gentleman?”
“A man who cares about a lady’s reputation and who doesn’t want to see anyone hurt, even thirty years after the affair, must have a strong sense of honor. A man like that will do right by my aunt.”
“Sometimes I forget that you write romance novels in addition to selling real estate,” Owen muttered.
She smiled. “Ready to go down to dinner?”
• • •
Two hours later Owen stood with Amy on the veranda that ran the length of the Villantry Inn and contemplated night-shrouded Villantry Park. The summer evening was cool but not cold. The tang of the sea was in the air. Bernice and Arthur had left the Inn after dinner. Owen finally had Amy to himself.
Amy and her case, he amended silently.
“Want to take a walk?” he asked.
Amy nodded. “Sounds lovely.”
He took her arm, and together they went down the steps and strolled into the park. The globes of the tall, old-fashioned lamps that lit the paths cast a warm glow. The Friday night band concert had just concluded its performance. People streamed out of the park.
By the time Owen had gotten Amy as far as the pond, the crowd had dwindled to a handful. Owen studied the library through the trees and rhododendron bushes. It was closed for the day, but the lights were on inside.
Everything about this case seemed to center on the library.
“Looks like someone’s working late tonight,” he said, indicating the building on the far side of the park.
“Maybe some of the people in charge of the dedication ceremonies are holding a last-minute meeting.”
“Let’s see what’s going on.” Drawn by the force of his curiosity, Owen steered Amy along the path that meandered toward the library.
Amy glanced at him speculatively. “Are we going to look for clues?”
“Have I ever told you that you have an overactive imagination?”
“I believe you’ve mentioned it once or twice. So, what are we going to do?”
“I’m not sure. I just want to have a look around. It occurs to me that even though the public library restroom is not a bad choice on the part of the blackmailer, it is a little unusual. Whoever he is, he must feel quite comfortable there.”
“A librarian?”
“Maybe.”
The path that led to the library was deserted. The trees and shrubs that grew in this portion of the grounds were among the oldest in Villantry Park. They blocked the light from the tall lamps and deepened the already thick shadows on the graveled walk.
Owen and Amy had almost reached the library when the front door opened. Voices floated out into the night. Several people appeared in the entrance. Owen brought Amy to a halt in the shadows.
“You were right,” he said softly. “Looks like a committee meeting breaking up.”
They watched the small group cluster for a few minutes on the broad steps in front of the building, exchanging pleasantries. Madeline Villantry appeared in the doorway. Raymond Junior was with her. Raymond appeared terminally bored, as usual.
“Is everything taken care of inside, Betty?” Madeline asked.
“Yes, I think so, Madeline.” A silver-haired matron paused on the steps. “Eugene will turn off the lights and lock up.”
“I’ll see you all tomorrow evening at the ceremony, then,” Madeline said. “Good night, everyone. And thank you once again for your time and effort.”
The committee members moved off in various directions. Most headed toward the small parking lot on the far side of the park.
Madeline and Raymond started along the path that would take them past Owen and Amy.
Owen automatically started to pull Amy into the bushes, then realized belatedly that the rhododendrons were impenetrable and opted for another means of concealment.
He drew Amy into a passionate embrace in the shadows.
“What are you doing?” Amy hissed, startled.
“Don’t want ’em to see us,” Owen muttered. “Kiss me. Make it look good.”
She hesitated only briefly, more out of surprise than anything else, Owen realized. And then she was kissing him back. Her arms locked around his neck. Her mouth opened for him.
Owen’s priorities shifted in a heartbeat. The problem of Madeline and Raymond suddenly dwindled dramatically in importance. All that mattered was the taste and feel of Amy.
He folded her close, hungry for the essence of her, frustrated by clothing, location, and a possible audience. Amy’s mouth was warm and moist and inviting. The gentle curves of her br**sts were crushed against his chest. Her soft, muffled whimper of excitement threatened to make him lose control.
The scrape of shoes on gravel, a mildly disapproving murmur, and a soft masculine chuckle brought Owen back to reality. Madeline and Raymond were passing directly behind him now. They had obviously seen the couple in the shadows. Owen hoped that the darkness and the manner in which he was enveloping Amy combined to provide effective concealment.