up. Anyone who wanted to murder someone.” The detective looked again at the butler. “Anyone who might have been stealing the artwork and replacing them with forgeries, until Mr. March began to suspect—”
“It was
Janice’s
idea!” the butler yelled, his arm flying out and pressing Halley back into Nick’s arms.
“Welcome,” Nick murmured seductively, and Halley responded with a dreamy smile.
“Of course it was,” the detective continued. “Her uncle suspected her part in the forgeries and was about to cut her out of his will. By murdering him
and
implicating Melody, she’d have twice as much fortune to share with her lover, the butler! And that,my friends”—his round face broke into smiles—“is that!”
The guests’ loud and appreciative applause filled the night air, and Halley felt Nick’s arms encircle her, then continue to clap. She was cozily trapped, wonderfully enclosed. The smell of his after-shave blended with the night breeze, and Halley breathed it all in, savoring it, tucking it away.
Herb Harrington stepped back into the circle of guests and quieted them one final time. “And the winner of the cruise is none other than my close friend, Otto Bailey, known in real life, as most of you know, as Stan Melrose. A hand for our chief detective, please!”
Halley watched and smiled as the elderly man and his gray-haired wife walked up and hugged Herb.
“Well, good for Stan and Abbie,” Nick said, half to himself. “I’ll have to see that they make use of it.”
Halley looked up questioningly, but Nick just smiled down at her and rubbed his chin into her hair.
“And now, folks, a final feast awaits you. Please help yourselves to the buffet and spend the remainder of the evening peeling off your disguises and getting reacquainted, now that we’re back in the real world!”
Halley stiffened, and Nick pulled her away from the mingling, noisy crowd of people who were greeting each other by their familiar names.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Halley tried to smile brightly. At least nothing
should
be the matter. She was blowing this out of proportion.
“Well, then, it’s time to confess.”
Halley took a quick lungful of air. “All right. I am Halley Finnegan.”
Nick’s eyes smiled. “Halley—” He said her name slowly, letting the sounds slip off his tongue only when they were ready.
Halley laughed. “Halley. Plain, simple Halley Finnegan. And you are Nick. Nick Harrington?”
He nodded. “That’s right. Not the original, however. I’m the third.”
“Nick Harrington the third.” Halley’s heart thudded. She smiled into the space between them. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, I’m starved, Halley Finnegan. Shall we?” He ushered her to the enormous buffet table, which was filled with platters of smoked turkey, ham, rare roast beef, and croissants. Mustard sauces and vegetable salads wrapped in pockets of freshly baked dough rounded out the meal. The assortment was endless, and Halley filled her plate enthusiastically, finding food a much more manageable topic of concentration than Nick Harrington the third.
“Contessa—”
“Halley,” she said, correcting him, as they walked over to a circle of wrought-iron chairs.
“Halley, then.” Nick set his plate on the low, round table and rescued two glasses of wine from a passing waiter’s tray. “Halley, I want to see you again. Tomorrow if possible.”
She looked up, her forkful of turkey fluttering loosely in the air. She gulped. “Why?”
He drew his brows together dramatically. “Because, my Contessa, we have so many years to make up for—”
“Halley, remember? And, Nick, I don’t think—”
Before she could finish, they were joined by several other guests, who sat down and filled the charged air with lively conversation. Halley felt a wave of relief, as if she’d been rescued from some danger. She watched as they talked, half listening to them, but mostly thinking about the irony
“It was
Janice’s
idea!” the butler yelled, his arm flying out and pressing Halley back into Nick’s arms.
“Welcome,” Nick murmured seductively, and Halley responded with a dreamy smile.
“Of course it was,” the detective continued. “Her uncle suspected her part in the forgeries and was about to cut her out of his will. By murdering him
and
implicating Melody, she’d have twice as much fortune to share with her lover, the butler! And that,my friends”—his round face broke into smiles—“is that!”
The guests’ loud and appreciative applause filled the night air, and Halley felt Nick’s arms encircle her, then continue to clap. She was cozily trapped, wonderfully enclosed. The smell of his after-shave blended with the night breeze, and Halley breathed it all in, savoring it, tucking it away.
Herb Harrington stepped back into the circle of guests and quieted them one final time. “And the winner of the cruise is none other than my close friend, Otto Bailey, known in real life, as most of you know, as Stan Melrose. A hand for our chief detective, please!”
Halley watched and smiled as the elderly man and his gray-haired wife walked up and hugged Herb.
“Well, good for Stan and Abbie,” Nick said, half to himself. “I’ll have to see that they make use of it.”
Halley looked up questioningly, but Nick just smiled down at her and rubbed his chin into her hair.
“And now, folks, a final feast awaits you. Please help yourselves to the buffet and spend the remainder of the evening peeling off your disguises and getting reacquainted, now that we’re back in the real world!”
Halley stiffened, and Nick pulled her away from the mingling, noisy crowd of people who were greeting each other by their familiar names.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Halley tried to smile brightly. At least nothing
should
be the matter. She was blowing this out of proportion.
“Well, then, it’s time to confess.”
Halley took a quick lungful of air. “All right. I am Halley Finnegan.”
Nick’s eyes smiled. “Halley—” He said her name slowly, letting the sounds slip off his tongue only when they were ready.
Halley laughed. “Halley. Plain, simple Halley Finnegan. And you are Nick. Nick Harrington?”
He nodded. “That’s right. Not the original, however. I’m the third.”
“Nick Harrington the third.” Halley’s heart thudded. She smiled into the space between them. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, I’m starved, Halley Finnegan. Shall we?” He ushered her to the enormous buffet table, which was filled with platters of smoked turkey, ham, rare roast beef, and croissants. Mustard sauces and vegetable salads wrapped in pockets of freshly baked dough rounded out the meal. The assortment was endless, and Halley filled her plate enthusiastically, finding food a much more manageable topic of concentration than Nick Harrington the third.
“Contessa—”
“Halley,” she said, correcting him, as they walked over to a circle of wrought-iron chairs.
“Halley, then.” Nick set his plate on the low, round table and rescued two glasses of wine from a passing waiter’s tray. “Halley, I want to see you again. Tomorrow if possible.”
She looked up, her forkful of turkey fluttering loosely in the air. She gulped. “Why?”
He drew his brows together dramatically. “Because, my Contessa, we have so many years to make up for—”
“Halley, remember? And, Nick, I don’t think—”
Before she could finish, they were joined by several other guests, who sat down and filled the charged air with lively conversation. Halley felt a wave of relief, as if she’d been rescued from some danger. She watched as they talked, half listening to them, but mostly thinking about the irony
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